PSYCLE (IC/Postponed Acceptance/PG-16)

[yui 576]

(maybe a logo here someday, if i feel like it)
OOC

JUNE 11TH, 2030, 10:42 A.M.
LOCATION: AIR FORCE ZERO, OVAL OFFICE

High above American soil hovered an airship like no other. Armed to the teeth, heavily armored, and perched atop the flying fortress, the White House provided an unmatched view of the nation below. Moreoever, gathered within the room were two bounty hunters, both assigned to one specific task. Today was the centennial anniversary of The Crisis, and while previous ceremonies simply hired your average security contractors, this time around, President Jack Roosevelt spared no expense, collecting the best bounty hunters he could find to ensure this event went off without a hitch, and entrusting his personal safety to these two in particular.

"I'd like to speak frankly for a moment," a young woman said.

"Go ahead."

"You're hiding something from us." Getting up from her seat and gazing at the festival grounds below from the window behind the President, she explained "It's unusual enough to hire bounty hunters for something like this, paid in full up-front at that, but I in particular am even more of an anomaly. I've earned my fame and fortune by being the very best at tracking down and killing a target. Monsters, criminals, terrorists, even a few politicians, I'll admit. This... is the exact opposite of my type of work, and I said as much when you contacted me. So for you to not only insist on hiring me to stand around glaring at people, but choosing to TRIPLE your initial offer when I first turned you down? It doesn't take a genius to find that strange."

"Especially when you've gone to the trouble of hiring what I can only assume is a monster that can rip people apart with its bare hands," she concluded, glancing back at the third figure in the room; an unnaturally tall man made of muscle, and currently her partner for this job. "Quite the specimen, I must say. If you were expecting some sort of assassin, you could have probably just used him as a meat shield, since there's definitely enough of him to go around. And yet here I am as well. Why is that?"

"I would appreciate you not trying to pick a fight with the rest of my security detail, Miss Harper." Removing his glasses and wiping a stray piece of dust from the lens, Roosevelt matter-of-factly answered "However, you have the right of it. I'm not proud to admit it, but I've been witholding information from both of you. Mr. Go, the door, if you'd please."

Without saying a word or getting up from his seat, Íroas B. Go reached his arm behind him. With a flick of his finger, a blast of air was sent out of the office, closing the doors in its wake.

"Alright, both of you listen up, because I'm not going to repeat any of this. And none of what I'm about to say leaves this office. A lot of good people could get killed if the people I'm preparing for know that I know any of what you're about to hear..."

---

JUNE 11TH, 2030, 1:57 P.M.
LOCATION: CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY GROUNDS, JUST OUTSIDE OF CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

Hot afternoon though it may have been, excitement and happiness was in the air today. While the first few anniversary events of The Crisis were more solemn occasions meant to reflect on a recent reality-altering catastrophe, over the last hundred years, the tone had gradually shifted as the new world it had brought became the norm for more and more people. Today, the anniversary was more of a cause for celebration, meant to remember what had happened in the past, but also to wonder what limitless possibilities the future held. Aside from the inclusion of some special official events, the event had become akin to one big festival. A change that some hardcore traditionalists weren't all too fond of, calling it "a glorified carnival."

To anyone who didn't have such objections, however, it was definitely an event worth attending.

A direct address from the President was scheduled to start in a few short minutes, but until then, as well as for a couple of hours afterward, the grounds had all the makings of an otherwise-normal festival type event. Stalls selling food and drinks, live music that was just now wrapping up for a brief break, and various other little things to keep guests entertained until the big moment. Activities such as mazes and dunk tanks, machines meant to test your strength, bb gun booths, and more, all with a few prizes to be won of course. Just outside the designated area of the event were others looking to ply their trade, but who couldn't get the permit to work in the centennial proper. Arists, fortune-tellers, and more had gathered just outside the grounds, hoping to make a quick buck from those entering or leaving this major event.

Attendance was easily within the tens of thousands, and as two o'clock got closer, some turned their eyes toward the stage of the event. Just behind it was the aerial fortress known as Air Force Zero, now landed for the time being. Men in suits were gathering on the stage, clearly security detail for the President's impending appearance. But most either didn't think about it, or only planned to pay it mind during the President's address.

With so many things to do, and people to meet, there was no shortage of ways one could spend the minutes leading up to the main event of the day. All one had to do was seek it out.

HOST NOTES

Spoiler

Due to popular vote, I've elected to take a round or two for interaction before we jump into the action. In so doing, I've outlined a few ideas of things one could do at the centennial. If you're looking to interact with others, you could also do that, and I've got a few NPCs in the back pocket as well if that's more your fancy.

 

[Chaos Sonic 443]

JUNE 11TH, 2030

It was a hot afternoon in Chicago...like it had been the last few times he was here. Then again, it was better than the absolute freezing temperatures during the winter months, so he couldn't really complain about things in the long run there. Come to think of it, when was the last time he visited Chicago? That's right! It was his trip to the Field Museum of Natural History...and he cleaned that geology exhibit, the Hall of Jade, clear of the Chinese jade artifacts. It all got sold to an unknown buyer on the black market in China, it was fitting anyway...have those artifacts returning to their homeland.

And where was Neal currently at this present moment? Well...for damn sure it wasn't at the anniversary grounds. More like...on the way TO the grounds.

---

LOCATION: HEADING TO THE ANNIVERSARY GROUNDS, JUST OUTSIDE OF CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

BGM

"STOP HIM!!!!"

The immediate sounds of police sirens and the sounds of stomping were heard as people watched and noticed a young man with maroon hair and black masquerade mask rushed by, ducking out from an alleyway. It was obvious that he was the cause of this chase. Nevertheless, this young man, with a small tube in his hand kept running.

"All this...for just a bunch of paintings??" the young man lamented, ducked into another alley as he immediately grabbed a few hanging cloths on a nearby clothesline. Once he did so, he dove towards a small area and saw a few older ladies. Normally, he probably would've been ratted out right here, but these older ladies seemed to not mind his sudden appearance and even attempt of disguise with the sheets. "Good afternoon ladies, beautiful summer day isn't it?"

They simply giggled and shook their heads. One happened to speak first, giving the young man a small smile. "Getting into trouble a bit early today, aren't you Beau?"

"Trouble? Oh no ma'am, not at all." Arsène Beau spoke, giving a small smile. These ladies he ended up helping a couple months back during his last trip here, since they got into a bad way with a bunch of ruffians. He had to make sure they were good at least, plus they were simply kind souls. "You know you're only in trouble when you get caught."

"THERE HE IS!!! YOU WON'T GET AWAY SO EASY!!!" a voice boomed, causing the young man to turn around and see...the police chief.

"...okay scratch that, I'm in trouble." he said, immediately bidding the two ladies adieu before throwing the sheets towards the police chief and rushing off again. Rushing by a nearby sewer drain, eyeing the manhole cover, he smirked. He ran by it, but not before the manhole cover immediately appeared in his hand. Once it did, he watched as a few unfortunate souls ended up falling right down in it as if it were a cartoon. Once that was done, Beau lobbed the manhole cover back in the direction of the chasing parade of cops.

He needed to think of something, considering he was running out of options at first...but the look of the festival caught his eye. Finally, something clicked. Of course, it's the anniversary of The Crisis...and that's got almost everyone and anyone there... a smirk appeared on his face, making a beeline for it. Which means I'm going to have to go incognito...let's swing by 'Swindler's Alley' first...that should be the cheap stuff I can handle...

Once he got closer to the anniversary grounds, or outside the designated area, Beau dove into a small booth and began to grab a few clothes. Before the vendor could even ask for payment, Beau placed quite a bit of cash in the man's hand and rushed past him. As the cops began to descend, Arsène Beau was already "gone"...and Neal LeBeau was just making his way with a new backpack on his back and a new style. As a few cops ran passed him, unaware of who it was, Neal could only smirk as he victoriously ate a chili dog he bought moments ago...he was in the clear...for now.

Now, for the time being...let's enjoy the festivities...once done, I can drop these paintings off and get the money for them. Neal smirked, moving further and further into the crowd.

[Mr. Hyde 204]

FESTIVAL GROUNDS

*THUMP* *THUMP* *THUMP*

His trek to Chicago had been a long one, but he had eventually made it all the way here.  Everywhere he had gone, from New Arizona to where he was now, it was as if the sound of thunder followed behind each and every one of his footsteps.  The haphazardly sprung up stands of the celebratory event shook with each step he took.  He was met with slack-jawed stares, which he met with an enormous and toothy grin.  Many people were not familiar with his kind, and he was quite used to that.  But Stalag Mightjaw was an emissary of his clan for a reason.  He found that the smooth-skins were easy to talk to and befriend.  He liked that about them.  

"Hey buddy!  Can you keep tip-toe or something?  You're wrecking all the merchandise."  Stalag looked to the fussing to see a stand worker visibly frustrated at the fact a glass of liquid had spilled on himself, probably thanks to all of Stalag's mighty strolling.  

"Ah!  It is my apologies, smooth-friend.  Stalag Mightjaw is still unsure of how to walk amongst your people!  I assure you I will keep property damage to a minimal!  You have my word."  Stalag nodded his head with his arms crossed.  "And a Mightjaw's word is his life!  HIS HONOR!  May it rest in your hands."

"Calm down bub.  Nobody's askin' about all that.  Just get on with it."  

Stalag nodded once more.  He took a deep breath.  

"On to the getting!"  The roar almost shook the whole block.  After all, this was what the smooth-skins called a "Carnival".  A perfect event for a carnivore.  It was a time for merriment and celebration.  And what a time to do so!  It was the anniversary of the Crisis, an event that brought his people back to the realm of the living.  in the Meteor-kin's villages, it was a most holy time.  The stars and sky had blessed them with a second chance on Earth.  The thought of it almost brought a tear to Stalag's eye, but he had already cried his tear-ducts dry earlier in the day from the same thoughts.  So instead, he pressed his palms together in a moment of solemn prayer.  After a minute or two, Stalag began to 'get on with it', walking with utmost care, as he strolled down to the main center of the celebration.  The smell coming from here was absolutely tantalizing.  He towered over the crowd of smooth-skins, so locating prey here would be a piece of cake.  He had never seen so many varied pieces of food in his life!  Meats, cheeses, and Ales for every man and child here!  One smell in particular caught his attention above the rest.   

Walking up to the stand, small puffs of yellow and white were being handed out in small paper bags.  The stand owner looked to Stalag in somewhat of shock.

"They make all kinds these days huh?"

"They certainly do!" Stalag replied in kind.  "What sorts of prey are you serving at this establishment.  It is like nothing from my village!"  

"Uh...this is called Popcorn..."

"Popped Corn!  Wonderful!  I will acquire one of your finest!"  Stalag pulled out a crumpled up piece of 'money', and handed it to the owner.  Trade was common in his village, but this 'money' was used to be able to trade anything.  He had learned many things while attending classes of the NAR Government to become an Ambassador of his people, and currency was one of his favorite subjects.

"Sure pal..." the owner grabbed a bag and scooped up a hefty amount of the food into it, before handing it to Stalag.

"Ah!  Thank you my smooth-friend!"  Stalag popped one of the tiny bits of popcorn into his large maw, chomping down on it as if it were a deer.  The salty flavor, and the butter mixed together superbly, followed by the light texture that almost seemed to evaporate with a flick of his tongue.  The fleeting moment of deliciousness was gone.  "This could use more meat!  And I am talking of a lot more!"  Pointing his nose to the sky, Stalag followed the scent of meat in the air, wherever it would lead him.  

[yui 576]

"Man, it really does heat up around this time of year, huh?"

Sita for one didn't mind hot summers, but it was hard for her to not think about them as they were happening. She much preferred this over a cold winter, though! More exciting things tended to happen in summer, such as these annual festivals, and more importantly, trekking across hot, dried-up dirt was MUCH easier than across the ironically hellish substances that were snow and ice. And all she had to do in exchange was be a bit more aware of hydration, and tie her jacket around her waist.

Normally, Sita would have done the mental equivalent of throwing a dart at an atlas and going to the anniversary event hosted in wherever it landed, but this time, she made a point to come to the US's festival. And just by looking around, she could tell that they were going all-out this year. A hundred years was a big deal, after all! Getting here had been quite the trek, though. Her boat from Australia got delayed, and then she still had to make the rest of the journey, most of which had to be done on foot because her scooter started having issues shortly after reaching solid land and she somehow couldn't find a mechanic. Her feet were sore, her legs were tired, and Sita just wanted to sit down for a bit. Luckily, she was here now, which meant she had plenty of chance to do just that. She could just sit down on the dirt, leaning against her scooter, and enjoy the lemonade she'd picked up on the way in. It was a refreshing drink, and while it didn't un-sore her lower half, it did make her feel better. With the drink drank, she could just relax until it was time for the President's big speech.

And so, restless type that she was, Sita proceeded to not do that.

This was a big event! She wanted to enjoy it! Sita looked around for something interesting to do. Her eyes settled on one of those dunk tanks. Looking at the sign, Sita was suddenly interested. For one buck, you got three shots to try and hit the target and send the heckler sitting atop the tank on a quick trip to the water beneath. Based on which throw you hit the target on, you could get your choice from a few different prizes, too! Based on his very dry appearance and the very full shelves nearby, nobody had gotten him yet. Which struck Sita as a bit odd.

Handing over one dollar and stepping up to the line, she picked up a tennis ball from inside the nearby basket, took aim, and threw it at the target. Perhaps one of her fingers had slipped though, because the ball veered off-course, harmlessly bouncing off the wall of the tank instead.

"Strike one! Won't hit shit like that!" the man atop the tank jeered.

"Hey, am I allowed to use psychic powers?" Sita asked.

"Course not! World's fulla people can do shit like throw things with their brains, you think I'd let 'em pull that shit here!?"

"Yeah, my bad." Sita took care to aim her shot this time. She'd done enough hunting in the wild that she was quite proud of her marksmanship, and while it didn't perfectly translate to throwing a ball, it did mean that from this distance, hitting that target should have been a piece of cake! She took careful aim, took into consideration what little weight a tennis ball had, and made what seemed to be a perfect pitch!

...only to watch in utter disbelief as it suddenly swerved away from the target, before dropping to the ground.

"Strike two! Sheesh, woman, how'd you even find your way to the pitchin' line with that sorta aim!?"

Something was definitely up. Sita picked up her third and final ball for the one dollar she was willing to pay, and took a deep breath. Two could play at this game. Sita felt around on the ball, making sure it wasn't weighted or something before confirming that no, it was perfectly normal. Awesome. Overhead, the bright summer sun shone down on Sita and the villain of the minute, and as if looking for some sort of advice, she turned her head upward to take a look at this planet's parent star.

"Say, there's an idea! Blind yerself! Not like you'd be able to aim much worse afterward!"

Inside the dark, hollow interior of the tennis ball, where nobody could see, a bright light began to shine, occupying the inside. It wasn't able to break through and cause the ball to glow or anything, but the hot light inside did leave the ball feeling a bit warmer than normal.

"Hurry up, lady, clock's tickin'!"

One last time, Sita took aim, and threw the ball, directing her orb of light straight to the target.

"STRIKE THRE--"

SPLASH!

The plank holding the heckler suddenly folded down as the ball impacted the target, sending the man straight down into the tank of water. When he grabbed the edge of the tank and resurfaced, he was met with a very smug-looking Sita, satisfied with her success. "Looks like I win," she smirked.

"Yeah, yeah, whoop-de-doo. Third shelf, get your prize then get out."

The third shelf seemed to not have anything impressive. Little toys and knick-knacks that even a light traveler like Sita would be able to keep around. Awfully convenient that this was when she got the prize, then. Sita picked out a little bag that had a sticker of a penguin and a wooden sculpture of the same creature. Now she was in the mood for ice cream. Slapping the penguin sticker on the front of her scooter and tucking the wooden penguin in one of several bags hanging from it, Sita took herself in that direction, dragging the scooter along with her.

[(o ×) 228]

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…”
 

Edited October 23, 2023 by (o ×)

[yui 576]

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.

Edited October 23, 2023 by yui

[(o ×) 228]

“Such a shame.”

Sai pointed a finger at the ground before him lightly, then twisted his arm and curled the finger upward. Up from the ground sprung tall shining grass, with feathery plumes. Pushing his full body through the veil of grass, Sai immediately found himself standing face to face with the mountain of a man, having raised himself above the ground high enough that they were at eye level with each other. “I’m not hostile” he said, holding a hand between the two as if to halt the giant.

As he spoke, he raised his right hand, making a subtle circular gesture in the air. In an instant, the failing portions of the stage structure were rebuilt and reinforced, with haphazardly strewn scaffolding holding up portions that were about to collapse, all with a decidedly Japanese style of architecture. Billowing flags depicting purple irises unfurled from the highest beam, catching each of the thrown civilians and gently rolling them down to the surface of the stage.

“Do you have any inkling as to what is occuring?”

Iroas looked over to the President. The President only gave a small nod of approval. With a nod of his own, Iroas turned back to Sai.

“We seem to be under attack by a terrorist group called MIRROR, and their target is the president.” He explained, his eyes darting to the side so he could keep an eye on said terrorists.

“I presume this group has branches around the world?”

“If I understood the debriefing correctly, yeah.”

“That explains quite a lot. Your boss seems to have an above-average level of preparation. Did you clock where the gunfire came from?”

Iroas nodded, pointing over to his left side. “It came from somewhere over there.” He began to squint, noticing something a little off. “There’s a girl making a break for it, but the way she’s running isn't like everyone else. She isn’t scared.”

“Hm…” Sai glanced over, seeing the pink-haired bounty hunter already taking pursuit, “it appears that that one is already managed. In that case…” looking out over the crowd, Sai’s attention was caught by the girl who appeared to be terrified, yet was not fleeing. Without a word, he gestured lightly with a finger, and the same grass from before sprung up from the stage. With a step, he had fully passed through the grass, and was gone as abruptly as he had arrived.

Sai reappeared in front of the frightened girl and smiled, immediately taking hold of her face in his outstretched hand. With a push, he plunged her through his veil of grass, and the pair was immediately hovering about 10 yards up in the air, directly above their previous location. Below them was a platform of cherry blossoms, not unlike what he had stood upon previously, though this time he had created ample space for the both of them. Despite his aggressive approach, he released her gently so that she could stand before him.

“Hello there. You can call me Sai. What’s your name?”

With the teleportation of the girl, and the resulting breaking of her focus, the arms threatening to tear apart the presidential stage broke away into nothing. A short-lived victory at ground-level, however, as with another command from the man commanding the arms that had just moments ago thrown civilians at the stage picked up where their ilk had left off, grabbing at the stage and pulling with a less wild, more thought-out intent of ripping the stage’s front pillars out.

Back on Sai’s platform, meanwhile, the girl’s focus was on reacquainting herself with her surroundings. And promptly realizing she was several yards in the air, and very at the mercy of whoever had whisked her away to this platform. And if he could do such things just like that…

“GET ME DOWN FROM HERE,” she shouted, scanning the crowd below, seemingly searching for something, or perhaps someone, and taking whatever steps back she could without teetering over the edge. “You're working with them aren't you?!”

The scattering wisps of mist that once formed arms threatening the stage - along with a new outpouring of the stuff from the girl’s own body - coalesced on the ground beneath the platform, gathering and building, shaping and towering. Behind the girl, the mist had re-shaped into what - aside from its size - could be considered a bear, though its form was gnarled and twisted into the territory of something that wasn't “a bear” so much as “what might be left of a bear after meeting a much bigger, very angry bear.”

Paying no mind to the entity that was forming beneath the pair, Sai extended the cherry blossoms under the girl's feet as she stepped backward, careful not to let her fall. “I’m not working with anyone, aside from doing my best to keep people from getting hurt.” He took a half step forward, gently raising both of his hands and lowering his center of gravity as one would when approaching a frightened animal, “I don’t want you to get hurt either. I saw you looked scared, so I took you up here, away from all that violence.”

For the first time since the sound of gunfire, the panicked, fearful expression left the girl’s face, and with it, the bear that would have otherwise brought its titanic weight to bear upon Sai’s platform disappeared into nothing. “...and maybe I was down there to cause all that violence,” she said, with a stern expression that looked as if her facial muscles had never made such a face before and weren't sure how to do it right.

“I know you were. That’s why I am so concerned about you.” Sai sat down, crossing his legs as his hair billowed past the edges of the platform. “Though, you haven’t answered my question yet.”

“Official MIR--... ahem, official group protocol is to not give our names to anyone. Our boss said that goes double for me. So my lips are sealed.” With a resigned huff, the girl sat down as well, not looking at the chaos below, but still scanning the outer edges of the crowd.

“Don’t worry, I know about MIRROR. You’ve all been busy this centennial, haven't you?” Sai paused, as if thinking for a moment, “do you enjoy tea?”

A look of genuine surprise struck the girl’s face, though she waves off the offer for tea, seeming uninterested in the drink. 

“It sounds like you know a lot more about us than anyone else should right now. We have had suspicions that there’s a mole in the ranks…”

“Oh I assure you that I know nothing of that, I only heard the name of your friends a few seconds before we met. It does make sense though. I’ve just been in attendance of more crashed parties than I’d prefer.” With a shrug, Sai twirled a finger, and a steaming teapot appeared in his hand. He tilted the pot to pour, and before the tea could splash onto the cherry blossoms, a small plate with a pair of cups appeared to catch the liquid. “I figured I would pour you a cup just in case you change your mind.”

“Well, since you seem to have somehow attended most of our attacks, I do want closure on this and don’t want to wait until I’m back at base if I can get the answer now. The Russian attack. Is the man in charge…”

The girl made a cutting motion across her neck with her thumb.

“I propose an exchange of information. I tell you how things went, if you first tell me what I should call you.” Sai smiled warmly, taking a sip from his cup and pushing the plate forward so she could reach her own. “I know it’s against the rules for you to tell me your true name, but I would at least like something to call you, for my own internal perspective. Is there a name you fancy?”

[Chaos Sonic 443]

What was a simple speech from the President turned into an assassination attempt. Needless to say, Neal wasn't too thrilled about seeing this turn of events occur. A gunman... someone using spectral hands to throw those in the crowd on the stage like they were rocks... thorns and roots appearing from the ground to trip up many in the crowd... oh and the skeletal arms that appeared by the stage trying to murderlize the President there and those around him. Neal wanted to curse himself for deciding to come to this festival just for this to happen.

Probably should've just taken my chances with the cops... he thought, before overhearing something nearby.

"This way, this way! I know a shortcut out of here, so let's not waste any time and get the escorting over with, okay~?"

Oh that sounds reassuring... Neal thought, a sigh escaping his lips. Just his luck with this. He knew he shouldn't have attended this speech, let alone the festivities. Regardless, he followed the crowd that followed the green eyed girl. Though all the while, he was wary...something just wasn't sitting right with him.

The woman led her entourage of followers away from the action, as promised, to a small shed, ushering everybody inside before following suit. Once she was indoors, however, the woman locked the door behind her.

"Okay~! Now, Miss Babette here has a job to do, and part of that means giving you all a quick check. To make sure nobody's carrying any weapons or anything. Surely you understand, in these circumstances. Just step on up, and with a touch my hand, I'll make sure nobody here is a dirty, no-good President-killer wannabe! Now, you may feel a little woozy afterward, but don't worry about that~!"

Neal wasn't buying this...she seemed too eager. Not only that, a small shed? This was hardly a spot for safety, this wasn't even a full on escape. No...this was more like... ...this is a straight up con. She's one of them...isn't she? The young man kept himself just in the crowd, waiting to figure out what the next move from her would be.

The first pair of volunteers, however, were clearly buying it. As they stepped up to Babette, she placed four fingers on each of their necks. A few seconds passed, and they collapsed to the floor, albeit still breathing. "A bit woozy, like I said. But, good news! Neither of you are a threat! Next, please~!"

"Would you simply like us to just put our valuables in a box for you instead?" Neal spoke up, trying not to be noticed by Babette. He hoped she was dumb enough to simply respond to that outburst.

"Only if you think knives and guns are valuable," Babette smiled, taking on the next pair of volunteers. Those that followed her here were few in number, so the crowd was dwindling fast. "After all, I'm a security detail, not some mugger or bank robber."

"Funny, cause a security detail...delivering a group of people to a small shed...not even fully evacuating?" Neal continued, knowing eventually he'd be found out as the crowd dwindled down. "Either security is doing something new nowadays here in Illinois, or you just think everyone here is as gullible as they look."

At that accusation, Babette raised an eyebrow. "And you, young man, are a lot smarter than the rest of our little gathering." As the last pair of volunteers dropped to the floor, leaving just her and Neal in the room, she took measured, but confident steps forward. Holding up her right hand, with those same four fingers raised, she continued "I do like a guy with a bit of critical thinking skills. Hearing one person asking questions anyone who stopped to think for a second could come up with, making everyone else look like total idiots by comparison, is just hilarious! And yet, you also followed me! So, are you gonna arrest me or something?"

"Arrest you? Hardly. I don't think I could honestly be caught wearing that uniform. It would simply clash with my personality and line of work." Neal snickered, moving slightly as he too sized up Babette. "As for the critical thinking...it's more of...common sense. After all, without that...and it would ruin a whole heist, now wouldn't it? But, alas I digress, my dear." He shifted the back on his shoulder slightly, beginning to snicker again. "Truth be told, was simply taking a gamble here when I followed. The moment you led us into a shed, I knew something was up. Though it seems that you...from the looks of it...knocked out all the people here. Quite the Psychic Ability if I do say so myself. Let me guess...hostage scenario? Potential leverage against your primary target of the President? Would be ingenious..." He paused, before holding up a single wallet, flipping it open to show the ID of the first 'volunteer', tossing it at Babette's feet. "IF most of these were actually of a higher class. The payout you'd get from the upper class folk would be much better than these middle to low class people. Basic stuff if I'm honest."

"Hostages? Oh, no, nothing so barbaric! I was going to take them back with me is all. To do a bit of this."

Babette kneeled down, resting two fingers from her other hand on the leg of one of the incapacitated volunteers. Although they were paralyzed, a look at their expression was all it took to tell that whatever Babette was doing, it was causing them pain.

"Well... maybe not a bit of this. More like a lot of it."

"Ahhhhh, so rather than hostages...you went for torture." Neal nodded, glancing at the situation at hand. "Seems like this little situation has escalated, but I suppose that's to be expected with terroristic threats, now isn't it?" He adjusted the bag on his shoulder again, before simply looking directly at Babette. "I don't suppose there's a chance you'd let me go, seeing as I'm not a cop or bounty hunter."

"Of course not! And the only way out is locked, and you'll have to get past me to reach it anyway. You're just all out of options, aren't you? Now, hold still. This will hurt, but at least you won't scream your head off over it... this time." Babette reached forward with her hand, its four unfurled fingers fully prepared to grab Neal as they had everyone else in the room.

He sighed a bit, immediately slinging the bag off his shoulder and slung it at Babette. "I have to say, if that painting in there gets damaged and I don't get my full payout...I'm going to be quite upset." he said, moving away from the assailant, moving to his left. "Then again, at this point, I'm fairly certain the buyer will understand at this point...I'd rather not be tossed into a world of pain like that, if I could help it."

Babette caught the bag, almost falling over from it being heavier than she expected, before tossing it aside without much care. "Ohhhh, now you're in for it." With that and that alone as warning, she disregarded her previous, slower approach, lunging to her side in an attempt to catch Neal.

Neal at this point, was just in a moment of keep away from Babette. "My dear, while I'm flattered at the desire to want to throw yourself at me..." he said, his eyes scanning around the room to see if there was anything he could snatch. "...I must decline. I'm a gentleman above all else!"

[Mr. Hyde 204]

An announcement had rung out through the entire Fairgrounds, as Stalag had chomped into a large turkey leg.  The President of the United States was landing, and his speech would begin at any moment.  He ripped his mouth away from the leg, taking out a chunk of the succulent meat as he did so.  He had finally found a good meal at one of these stands and now he was being interrupted.  He now recalled his classes on human culture, where he learned that the President of the United States was much akin to that of his own village's chief.  The chief was the best Specimen the village could produce, one who could take on all comers!  However, Stalag's first impression of the President was rather poor.  The Chief of the Mightjaw clan was enormous in stature, and quite boisterous.  Stalag admired people like that!  His opinion turned a complete one-eighty when the President had thrown away the magical voice boomer to instead speak naturally to the crowd.   

"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."

"If you would be so kind!  I was in the middle of snacking, and I wish to return to devouring this Tur-key!"  He shouted, presumably trying to talk to the President as an equal among the crowd.

The speech continued on, and so did Stalag's snack time.  His ears perked up at the mention of the wars against the New Aztec Republic, where he slightly shrinked.  That was the Tribe that was sponsoring this mission of his.  His people were a neutral faction, but they resided within the borders of the NAR.  Would he be seen as an enemy by Americans?  He pushed the thought out of his head.  His mission was to make sure it was the opposite!  His people were here to learn and be merry!

"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--"

It sounded like thunder had roamed across the sky overhead, but he had seen no flash.  It sounded like the battle cry of a weapon his people had unfortunately become familiar with, a gun.  Had someone brought one of those tools of war here to a joyous occasion?  It was enough to make him grimace.  One thing he hadn't noticed until now is that he had not picked up the scent of gunpowder, a necessity to fire a gun.  Was it an attempt on the President's life?  He didn't have time to think, as the soft-skin's around him began to swell in a panic.

"Calm yourselves my friends!"  Stalag tried to reassure the masses, "Bullets do not even hurt!  If anything, they itch very deep scratches!  What are you all worried about?"  However, the words coming from a walking tower of fangs and flesh didn't seem to be doing what they wanted him to do.  There were shouts from all directions.  Some shouts he could here were ushering people away from the commotion, but what was the fun in that.  If that wasn't enough, fights were breaking out seemingly everywhere.  It wouldn't look good if Stalag were to immediately jumped into the fray.  That's when the he saw someone running away from the rest of the masses, away from the President.  The flash of steel, and dodgy eyesight, was all he needed to begin pursuit.  His predator instincts had taken ahold of him for a brief second before he realized he was chasing a frail, female smooth-skin.  He called out ahead of him, keeping up in pace rather easily.  

"The excusing of me, but was it you who did the gun fire?!"  He shouted.  

The girl turned when confronted, about to speak her piece. Until, that is, she noticed just what she was being pursued by. Magpie Harper, one of the greatest bounty hunters in the world... and a Meteor-Kin! As much as she'd always wanted to meet one, all this living fossil got out of her was an "Oh, shit," before she redoubled her escape efforts, moving herself away from the action while trying to stay parallel with the imposing walls of the nearby Air Force Zero.

Seeing him must have really spooked her beyond belief.  Stalag could only nod, it was the only acceptable response to seeing a specimen of his stature!  But nevertheless, he needed to figure out why this soft-skin with a gun was running away!  Maybe if he captured her, the reputation of the Meteor-Kin would improve!  The thought made him put some effort into his stride, as the girl did the same. 

"I do not wish harm upon you!  But I must do the asking of why you are doing the running away!"

"Because she just tried to kill the President," Magpie interjected. "Very unsuccessfully, I might add!" With a flick of her wrist, a small knife appeared from out of her sleeve, which Magpie caught and promptly threw in the girl's direction. Her target, however, proved to be lighter on her feet than Magpie anticipated, as she sidestepped the flying blade quite effortlessly, before making a sudden turn in her escape route, now running directly for the nearby airship, where an open window was visible, albeit rather high up. "And if she gets in there, we're not catching her!"

Stalag looked behind him to see that another woman was in pursuit with him.  

"Ah!  I see we have the same goal!  Then assist me in my doing of the interrogation!"  He turned his head forward to follow the girl along the turn.  He noticed that she was making a break for the flying machine ahead.  "I cannot allow this!  We must speak!"  He turned back to Magpie.  "Please, no more throwing!  I shall intercept her!"  Stalag grit his teeth, and dug his heel into the ground, before he launched himself into a full out sprint.  He thrust his arms forward to try and latch onto a limb, trying his best not to use his jaws instead, making sure to gingerly grab the girl.  

As Stalag made his charge, the girl jumped up onto the near-vertical walls of Air Force Zero, and against reasonable expectations, was able to climb up it a short distance, just enough to get her fingers around the window frame. As she was pulling herself up to make her getaway, however, Stalag's hand was able to graze across her foot, the timing and weight of it being enough to make her slip, sliding her way back down the wall and landing on the dirt.

"Well, well, well," Magpie whistled, strolling up to meet the would-be assassin and her newfound captor. "Start talking."

"I'm not saying a thing." The girl's stance was defiant at first, but before long, her circumstances sunk in. The only reason she was able to make that climb was her running start, and these two were too close to make another escape. Shoulders slumped, she let out a long, resignated sigh, before putting her hands up.

"...alright, fine, you got me. You can question me all you want, but I'm still not saying anything."

"You did not shoot at the President.  I know this.  You carry a gun, yet I did not smell gunpowder in the crowd."  The ridge of his left eye raised itself.  "Then why run away?"  

She blinked a few times, surprised that Stalag was able to tell. Keeping one hand raised, she unholstered the gun with the other hand. She didn't point it at Stalag or Magpie however, and instead tossed it to the latter's feet.

"Seems Meteor-Kin have pretty sharp snouts. It's a starter pistol, like they use at racetracks. My job was to shoot that and then run, and I can say that because I'm sure Miss Bounty Hunter over there already pieced that much together."

"So you wished to start a commotion?  A distraction?"  The girl was not an assassin...yet she seemed to be in some shady dealings.  "It does not matter.  Why did you do this?  I must know the reasoning.  I was enjoying my meal, and wished to speak with the President!  Yet you ruin this for me and my people."  A large gust of air spouted from his nostrils.  "I will forgive you this once, but I must know answers."  He looked to Magpie.  "Bounty Hunter will get hers too.  I am assuring no harm will come against you while I am present."    

The spout of air from Stalag's nostrils seemed to take the spirit of defiance out of the girl.

"You Meteor-Kin sure are intimidating up close, haha..."  The compliment got a couple of wags out of his tail.  Looking back over toward the scene of the crime, the girl considered just not answering, for a good while. After a long moment of nothing, however, she finally caved. "I'm here with a team meant to kill the President. That's the short of it. My job was to give the signal to get the show on the road."

He closed his eyes in disappointment.

"Kill the president?  I cannot fathom such reason!  Truly!"  He literally couldn't.  Politics were not his strong suit.  He looked back to Magpie.  "So what are your intentions with this frail thing?  She did not commit crime, this I am sure of."  Was she really not guilty?  After all, she admitted association with a group of assassins.

"She's definitely committed a crime," Magpie retorted. "She just confessed to working with a team of assassins here to kill the President. In fact, his orders are the only reason she's still breathing right now."

"But the President is still alive?  She just runs away..."  He scratched his brow, but he could see how she was guilty after some thinking.  "So what will you do, Miss Bounty Hunter?  I, Stalag Mightjaw, will help in your endeavors!  Will we save the President of United States!?  Or shall we guard this perpetrator and make sure she does not do the escaping?"  

"I'll watch her. I have a lot of questions for our little wannabe assassin. You should go help the others."

Stalag nodded.  He looked back to the girl, this 'wannabee'.  

"What is your name?"

"It's our policy to not namedrop ourselves on the job. But, it doesn't say anything against using our file names. So, you can call me Friend."

"Your policy is the stupid!"  He managed to flash a sly grin.  "But this file name of yours...I like it."  He knelt down to her level.  "Friend...I wish you would not have gone down this road of violence.  Perhaps we will talk more soon."  Stalag stood up and turned towards Magpie.  "As I have said, no harm is to come to her.  Are we the clear crystal?"  Stalag started another full sprint to lend his assistance.  "I shall make short work of these assassins!"

[Saikazo 241]

“Hm…” Sai glanced over, seeing the pink-haired bounty hunter already taking pursuit, “it appears that that one is already managed. In that case…” And with that, the strange man vanished. Before Íroas could question anything about that interaction, the sound of screeching metal caught his attention. His eyes darted over to the new haphazard supports that Sai created.

The spectral hands were pulling harder.

"Everyone! Get closer to me!" Íroas bellowed as he motioned to the people on the stage. The people looked at him, scared and confused, but began to gather behind him. His eyes drifted over to the strange man who controlled the hands. That strange terrorist must be stopped.

Íroas reached out, his massive hand wrapping around the mic stand that the president neglected during his speech. The foreign bodyguard raised it up like a spear, holding it back as he stared at his target. All he had to do was throw it.

Yet he froze.

Not because he was nervous, not because he thought he might miss.

No.

He was afraid.

Afraid of killing the man.

Killing a monster, that was easy. He could do that without flinching. But a person? Even one attacking others, Íroas found the thought of killing them horrifying.

But something had to be done.

Space itself felt like it contorted. Íroas arched his back as if he was drawing a bow. Narrowing his eyes, Íroas aimed, straight and true. With his target in sight... he fired.

The mic stand took off. Not like a spear, nor like an arrow. No, the speed and force behind the throw could only be described like a single instrument. It took off like a bullet. With such power behind it, it could not be blocked, nor could it be evaded. And a blow that could not be blocked or evaded could be only one thing.

Fatal.

The awful sound of metal penetrating flesh.

The target fell to his knees. Everyone on stage released a breath that they didn't realize they were holding. 

The fatal weapon didn't skewer the man through his chest nor his head. It went right through his leg, leaving him alive. To his credit, the man held himself up with the good leg he still had and a hand. He didn't let out a cry of pain, nor did he complain.

His face shot up, glaring in Íroas's direction, but it was a glare that was clearly not directed at the man himself, but rather, the obstacle he represented.

"Pain of the flesh is less than nothing," he seethed between clenched teeth, raising his free hand up as his arm in its entirety emitted a glow similar to the spectral arms that continued to pull on the supports of the stage. "This stage will be torn down, and your President with it!"

With a command issued not by words, but by the gesture of his glowing arm ripping through the air as if he himself were pulling the supports out from the stage, the giant spectral arms did the same. The metal - reinforced though it was - bent, creaked... and then snapped in two. The roof of the stage broke apart, and came down upon Íroas and those around him.

The people screamed as the man watched the roof fall. An understandable reaction. However, something nagged at him. Looking over to the president with precious few seconds left, the man saw he was unafraid. Not because the president didn't fear death.

It was because he didn't even consider it a possibility in this moment.

Íroas raised his hands over his head, adjusting his stance as he spread out his legs. The full weight of the roof crashed into those massive hands. The roof then covered everyone, blocking them from sight. 

It was done. The roof was taken down.

Yet to the man's disbelief, that wasn't the end.

The edges of the roof cracked and fell as it was slowly lifted into the air. Underneath all the rubble was Íroas, holding the entire weight of the roof on his shoulders, like the mythological Atlas come to life. No one was hurt, not even a scratch. Íroas soon completely raised the roof over his head, like it weighed nothing. With no effort at all, Íroas then threw the roof. It landed behind the hooded man and his thorny accomplice, away from anyone who could be hurt and cutting off the villains' escape.

Before the hooded man could react, he felt his feet leaving the ground. He had all but a few seconds to realize that Íroas grabbed the mic cord and swung, using the hooded man as a weapon. Searing pain shot through his leg as the mic tried to unsuccessfully dislodge itself from his leg. Instead, it dragged him along through the air, and smashed him into the thorny lady.

The wind was knocked out of both of them as they crashed into the ground.

Íroas didn't move from his spot, he instead turned to look at the President and the innocents caught up in this. He would make sure to protect them, no matter what it took.

[yui 576]

While the chaos of the attack had sprung up in short order, President Roosevelt watched calmly as both his chosen bounty hunters, and brave volunteers from within the crowd, put down the threat just as quickly. Owing to the latter, the threat was dealt with much faster than he had intended, in fact! Not the least of these contributing factors was Íroas, who had caught the stage as it was falling down around him, threw its roof behind the two remaining assailants, and then used one to knock down the other. It was relieving to see that his money was well spent. In the half-collapse of the stage, his tie had come loose and uneven. Re-straightening and re-tightening it as the civilians on the stage began to scatter to safety, he stepped up to the edge of the stage, staring down at the remaining two terrorists. The President took a deep breath, then bellowed a command that could have been heard all the way to Chicago.

"STAND DOWN!"

The sheer force of his voice shook the stage beneath him, and created a forward shockwave that sent the remaining attackers hurtling away from him, crashing into the very roof they had attempted to bring down around him, knocking them out on impact. Seemingly awaiting the booming voice of the President, not long after his sonic attack, the front hatch of Air Force Zero opened once more, and from inside it poured several men in suits, armed with guns and handcuffs, making their way around the festival grounds to capture the assailants. The two in front of the stage, the one who had gone around the side of Air Force Zero were arrested in short order. The one who had "escorted" onlookers to "safety" had her shed of choice broken into, before she too was arrested. The one isolated from the rest of the chaos, atop a platform, took some time to catch...

The remaining conversation between Sai and MIRROR agent "Nightmare"

Spoiler

“I know it’s against the rules for you to tell me your true name, but I would at least like something to call you, for my own internal perspective. Is there a name you fancy?”

The girl paused, clearly considering her options, before seeming to come to a compromise with herself. After a long sigh, she answered “My file in our documentation labels me as Nightmare. Let’s go with that, I suppose. Now, is the Prime Minister dead?”

Sai frowned, “I think I was misunderstood. I don’t care what they call you. I would like to know what you would like to be called.”

“I’d like to be called by my name, but rules are rules. This is the next-best thing.”

“I assure you that if you were to share your name with me, I would not tell a soul, living nor dead. But if Nightmare is what it must be, then Nightmare it shall be.” Sai leaned back, placing both palms behind him, “The Prime Minister is fine. Is he a friend of yours?”

“Not at all. I wanted to be on the team for that attack to make sure he didn’t live, but our leader insisted I do this one instead. Because of that thing.” Nightmare’s eyes drifted off the platform, down to Air Force Zero.

“I’m the only one that can break through the hull if it came down to it, she said,” the girl answered, finally taking up the offer of the tea, and indulging in a small sip.

“Are you? It doesn’t seem that tough to me.” Sai downed the rest of his cup, before refilling it, “I feel that there may have been more to the decision to have you here, if I’m being perfectly honest. And do let me know if you would like sugar, or even cream.”

“That’s what she said, at least, and she’s never been wrong about this kind of stuff before. She didn’t tell us about those bounty hunters, though…” Right. The bounty hunters. Not the least of which was that giant of a man who looked like he could probably just punch through the hull himself if he was on her side. After another small sip of tea, Nightmare gave an indignant huff. “I’m not usually this lucid and calm, and the tea’s been great, but I have to get back to trying to kill the President now, so would you mind letting me back down?”

“Is he the only one you’re interested in hurting?” Sai spoke slowly, measuring his response, “as far as I could tell, the group in Russia wasn’t even trying to kill the P.M.”

“I don’t know what the Russia group's goal was supposed to be. We’re just following orders.”

“I can tell. They seem to keep you on a tight leash. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Our only target here in the US is President Roosevelt, yes. Everyone else is just collateral damage.”

“I suppose that simplifies matters, I will be putting my trust in you in this respect,” Sai peered over the edge of their shared platform, taking in the mayhem for a moment, “you were afraid to fall when I first brought you up here. Is that accurate?”

“Would you not be, if somebody suddenly whisked you away so high up?”

“No, but I think I have made my capabilities more than clear in our visit. I suppose my biggest concern at this point is that your comrades might not be as pleasant as you.”

“I’m not this pleasant, usually. I can only talk with you this clearly because you’re clearly the least threatening person here, and that includes any randoms down there who might not even be psychic.”

“I will graciously accept your compliment. There are probably more people who fear me than who fear you.”

“Since you’ve been very nice to me, I’d like to warn you not to let me think you’re a threat. But that’s beside the point.” Taking one long, final sip, Nightmare got up to her feet, and looked down at the tragic sight of her team's utter defeat. There wasn't even so much as a scratch on the President. “You’ve stalled me for more than long enough, and now I'm going to get arrested, but I do need to get down there all the same. If you don’t let me down gently, I’m going to jump, and the pain from falling from all the way up here will make me more dangerous.”

“My intent was never to stall you. I just wanted to get to know a future friend.” Sai pushed himself back up onto his feet, extending a hand toward her, “It will be easier if you let me do it, I’m sure you’re aware.”

Reluctantly, Nightmare accepted the hand.

“I have my doubts about whether you would be inclined to act upon it, but I have to offer: I don’t have to put you back down on the ground here. I can take you anywhere in the world you want.”

“Where I want to be is down there, doing my job. A job we would have succeeded at, if you hadn't done...” Nightmare gestured at the platform beneath herself and Sai. "This."

“Then I apologize in advance for the difficulties you will face in it.” Sai pulled on her hand, as the two fell through the veil and found themselves once again on the ground. “If you find yourself needing one, know that there is a warm cup of tea and a friend in Kabukichō.”

Releasing her hand, he disappeared in a flash, and Nightmare was returned to ground level.

Once she was let down from the platform, however, she too was immediately arrested, with the additional procedure of sedating her in particular. Additionally, some civilian guests who remained - including those who had been caught by one of the assailant's thorns - were rounded up for questioning.

A nomad who walked where the stars led her.

A thief who took what he believed was his.

An envoy whose people were born of The Crisis.

And, one visitor who received additional questioning. A graffiti artist who had defaced government property. She in particular - and her new friend, the nomad - was met with a trio of suited men, one of whom held out for her a photograph. Of the tag she had spray-painted onto Air Force Zero's hull. "Ma'am, this has been the single highest-security event in the United States this year," he said. "You didn't think we wouldn't notice a tag artist who targeted something as significant as this airship, right?"

"Oh yeah, I heard about that! Do you know where he went?"

"We're looking at her. Orders were to not detain anyone who wasn't actively disturbing the peace until after the attack that's just concluded. It's concluded. And here we are."

"Wait, wait, hold on," Sita interjected. "It's just a bit of spray paint, surely she should just get off with a warning the first time, right?"

"That's what we're giving her. We're not here to arrest the girl, don't worry about that. However, as you two are witnesses to what just happened, we're also under orders to ask you a few questions about everything you just saw, and we're giving that warning while we're at it. We're gathering everyone up into groups to do the questioning more efficiently, if you'd come with me."

"Actually, it was liquid acrylic. Or at least that's what it looked like. From pictures. Taken from afar." Despite already being told she wasn't being arrested, Tsurumi's eyes were darting back and forth, trying to find the best direction to escape to.

"Fascinating. This will be a lot easier for all of us if you come along with us. We just need to know if anyone has any extra insights on the attack that just happened; graffiti is hardly a concern of ours right now."

"Of course! I'm nothing if not cooperative with authorities!"

"Excellent. This way, please." While the other two kept their feet at the ready and their eyes on Tsurumi, the man with the photograph turned, and started back toward Air Force Zero.

"Let's get it over with," Sita shrugged, giving Tsurumi a light tap with her elbow. "And look at that, they hardly care about some graffiti! Did you really do that, though?"

"You really think I could do something like that? I'm heartbroken!" Tsurumi returned the elbow-tap with a grin.

"Well, whoever did it, I like their style. Er, their eye for art, I mean. People shouldn't go around spray-painting government property."

---

JUNE 11TH, 2030, 2:17 P.M.
LOCATION: AIR FORCE ZERO, LOBBY 2B

One nomad, one phantom thief, one graffiti artist, one Meteor-Kin envoy, one bounty hunter to oversee the process, and one government official who was tasked with the questioning. A total of seven people in the room, the same as in nearby Lobby 2A. The man in the suit looked over a small stack of papers set down on a table in the room, then set them aside, looking over the civilians who'd been rounded up.

"Right, since that seems to be all of you."

The man cleared his throat. Based on the look on his face, he wasn't used to this type of work, and would have preferred being out there in the heat of the action. "I'm Austin Lewis, the Secretary of Defense. Some of you may be in shock or not realize what happened about fifteen minutes ago, but a group of psychic terrorists belonging to an organization called MIRROR just made an attempt to assassinate President Jack Roosevelt. They failed, thanks to the bounty hunters he hired, but I hear at least one of you civilians also helped in disarming the threat levvied against us. If so, I'd like to personally thank any responsible parties for their contributions."

He took a tense sigh.

"Look, I need to be honest with all of you. I'm shit at work that involves talking to people, but I wanted any witnesses rounded up for extra questioning. If any of you have any insights about the attackers, or perhaps recognized one of them, I encourage you to come forward with that information. I'd also like to invite any volunteers to join a small squad we're assembling, to try and track down and wipe out the organization behind this attack. You will be generously compensated for this, all the more so since what I'm doing goes against every recruitment protocol we've got."

"That's all the cards on the table. Information, volunteers, questions, give me whatever you've got."

Then, he paused for a moment, seeming to suddenly remember something. He turned his attention straight to Stalag.

"Oh, as for you, the President said he'd like to speak with you in person after we're done here, in your capacity as an Aztec envoy. Seems you'll have quite the story to tell once you return home."

---

DATE/TIME UNKNOWN
LOCATION: ???

In an otherwise-silent room with no windows, the only sounds one could hear were the occasional turning of a page, the sound of a woman's breathing, and only when both of those weren't audible, the incredibly muffled sound of a vast, open ocean's waves. The room was lined with bookshelves, and otherwise held nothing more than a door, a desk - more of an elongated podium, really - and a chair behind it. As the woman turned the page, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a bookmark, and tucked it into the book. As she did so, the door opened.

"Hm. You're early. What a pleasant surprise. And how was Russia?"

"Cold," a man answered, stepping into the room in the company of a young woman.

"And the Prime Minister?"

"Alive, with some injuries to remind him of this day," the woman answered. "And we made sure to let Aki do the hurting. Just as you ordered, my lady."

"Wonderful. Then our next course of action..."

She paused, setting down her book. Her brassy yellow iris began to glow and spin in place, as her other eye seemingly stared off into a vast emptiness. Suddenly, it stopped, and a surprised expression was on her face.

"This isn't right."

"Hm? What ever do you mean?"

"President Jack Roosevelt is still alive. He will personally come for us, following the lead of a traitor from within our ranks."

"That's impossible! You said yourself that Anya would rip him to shreds!"

"Her exact words were "Washed away in a tidal wave of panic, her powers will turn the President into a mangled corpse in the middle of his address," dear brother. But that doesn't change the truth of the matter. If she's foreseen his arrival, he certainly isn't dead. Which means something changed. Our supposed mole is to blame for that, no doubt. Does this affect your grand vision in any way?"

"...not yet. If she and her group have failed, then our first priority is..."

[Mr. Hyde 204]

Before he had made it back to the fairgrounds, Stalag heard a mighty shout that seemed to shake the very earth beneath him.  The booming voice had obviously come from the President, commanding all those who heard to stand down.  There were no arguments from the massive crowd.  The whole ordeal was taken care of just as swiftly as it had begun.  Security detail was arresting those who had started the whole commotion, and now he was being asked to answer some questions.  Stalag offered no resistance, and was more than happy to tell everyone of his brave exploits!  He was quickly escorted to the lobby of Air Force Zero. 

He looked around the plane in awe.  Never before had he seen such technology before!  He was half-tempted to ask if they could make this magic machine take flight, just as the Pterror Clan themselves were able to do.  The sensation of flight would be new for him.  Stalag was joined in the questioning by three others who helped during the panic.  They must all have been brave warriors to have taken action like he had!  Before he could ask for their names, a man with a rather large scar on his face began to speak.

"I'm Austin Lewis, the Secretary of Defense. Some of you may be in shock or not realize what happened about fifteen minutes ago, but a group of psychic terrorists belonging to an organization called MIRROR just made an attempt to assassinate President Jack Roosevelt. They failed, thanks to the bounty hunters he hired, but I hear at least one of you civilians also helped in disarming the threat levvied against us. If so, I'd like to personally thank any responsible parties for their contributions."

The situation must've been stressful for one whose job it was to keep the nation safe against all threats foreign and domestic.  A heavy burden to put on a smooth-skin.

"Look, I need to be honest with all of you. I'm shit at work that involves talking to people, but I wanted any witnesses rounded up for extra questioning. If any of you have any insights about the attackers, or perhaps recognized one of them, I encourage you to come forward with that information. I'd also like to invite any volunteers to join a small squad we're assembling, to try and track down and wipe out the organization behind this attack. You will be generously compensated for this, all the more so since what I'm doing goes against every recruitment protocol we've got.  That's all the cards on the table. Information, volunteers, questions, give me whatever you've got."

His attention was then turned to the Mightjaw envoy.  

"Oh, as for you, the President said he'd like to speak with you in person after we're done here, in your capacity as an Aztec envoy. Seems you'll have quite the story to tell once you return home."

"I would very much so like to be speaking with him as well!  But first, I will offer any assistance I can!  I will be assembled into this 'squad'!  You would do well to have a Meteor Kin, especially THE Stalag Mightjaw, in any 'squad' you are to be assembling!"  His tail wagged with enthusiasm.  It sounded as if a mighty adventure was waiting for him!  An Epic to be passed down through his people for generations.  The Song of Stalag.  It had a ring to it.  "The only compensation I would require is the friendship of the United States and it's peoples!  I do not suppose this is much to ask, is it?"  His attention focused to the matter at hand.  

"You must have already questioned Friend, yes?  She was the starter of the attack of terror.  Although, she did not use a firearm...she was just the signaler.  Your bounty hunter says she is criminal...I say she might be good person!  She had run, but we did the catching!  She did not wish to harm us.  My only question is being why she would want to be involved in all of this...what does this MIRROR want?"  Stalag turned his head towards his fellow interogatees.  "Sorry for being the rude and doing all the talking!  If you would all be so kind as to do the introducing!  I wish to hear your tales as well!"

"Yes, it may be good for you to get to know each other," Austin agreed. "But more than that, you should all be brought into the loop on MIRROR." Austin cleared his throat, briefly shuffling through his stack of papers again, before looking back up at the assembled questionees. "For those who don't know, let me recap. About three and a half years ago, the psychic terrorist organization named MIRROR was formed. I'm not at liberty to disclose everything I know about them, but the short version is, they're bad news. According to them, they're fighting to preserve our way of life and prevent a second Crisis. A goal we could all aspire to, of course, if they weren't trying to accomplish it by assassinating world leaders, destabilizing nations, inciting rebellions, and other acts meant to tear at civilization as we know it.  Especially not when they don't even know when or how this second Crisis would happen," Austin scoffed. "And even that's assuming it's not some sorry attempt at justifying their actions. All of this is why it's my job to ensure they don't get their way here in the United States."

Stalag nodded his head.  

"My people...they were born of this 'Crisis' you speak of...to us it is sacred...holy..."  A swift breath spouted from his nostrils, "But I am understanding that for the soft-ski-....humans...it was not seen in that way.  I can see why MIRROR and yourselves would want to make sure a second Crisis doesn't happen."

Edited November 18, 2023 by Mr. Hyde

[Chaos Sonic 443]

Picture it. Neal LaBeau was still on the back foot against Babette, dodging her grip. He still was trying to find something to snag and snatch to use against the psycho, but alas, it was a small shed and he wasn't having a lot of options to grab anything. Furthermore...he wasn't sure if any of these people laying on the ground were Psy-... His concentration was knocked out...and so was the door to the shed. Surprising both him and Babette, all that appeared were men in suits...and Neal took the opportunity and really hammed it up. All for the cause for him getting out of here quickly.

"OH MY GOD! Thank goodness your here! She's trying to kill everyone!!!"

"Seems you've been duped, son," one of the suited men said, wasting absolutely no time in unholstering a small firearm with some kind of dart attached, then firing it at Neal's captor.

"Ow," Babette said, taken aback by the sudden developments. "...a tranq dart? Really? That's supposed to be... my... shtiiiick......" And then she collapsed.

"Steve Carson, DOD, no relation to the doctor," the apparent leader said, as his men began rounding up the paralyzed hostages and their would-be tormentor. "Seeing as you're the only one here who can still stand, we'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright. We don't suspect you of having any hand in this - don't worry about that - but we need to see if we can glean any information from witnesses and survivors of this attack. If you'd come with us, please."

"Of course sir, happy to help." Neal lied with a smile. ...damnit. There goes my immediate and quick exit. And thus...he was taken in for questioning.

---

JUNE 11TH, 2030, 2:17 P.M.
LOCATION: AIR FORCE ZERO, LOBBY 2B

"I'm Austin Lewis, the Secretary of Defense. Some of you may be in shock or not realize what happened about fifteen minutes ago, but a group of psychic terrorists belonging to an organization called MIRROR just made an attempt to assassinate President Jack Roosevelt. They failed, thanks to the bounty hunters he hired, but I hear at least one of you civilians also helped in disarming the threat levvied against us. If so, I'd like to personally thank any responsible parties for their contributions."

Secretary of Defense? Oh that bode well for Neal. He couldn't believe he was stuck in here like this. And with a motley crew of...whatever...and was that a fucking dinosaur?!

"I would very much so like to be speaking with him as well!  But first, I will offer any assistance I can!  I will be assembled into this 'squad'!  You would do well to have a Meteor Kin, especially THE Stalag Mightjaw, in any 'squad' you are to be assembling! The only compensation I would require is the friendship of the United States and it's peoples!  I do not suppose this is much to ask, is it?"

Ah...he's one of those ones that think the Crisis as a god-send. Fantastic... Neal thought, doing his best to keep his composure. Nevertheless, once the two finished talking, he proceeded to speak. The quicker he finished here, the better. "The young lady that I ended up following to that shed...what was it she said her name was?" Neal asked, rubbing his chin, playing it up some. He then snapped and nodded. "That's right, Babette. Yeah, she said she was trying to help and check to see if anyone had any weapons...naturally, that was a lie...considering the civilians started dropping like flies. Her fingers seemed to be her source of ability...at least from what I could tell."

"I'll have our men in the prison block restrain her use of her hands further, in that case," Austin nodded. "Pardon me a moment..." Austin turned his attention back down to his stack of papers, glancing at different lines of text throughout. "We don't know much about the internal structure of MIRROR, and I'm allowed to say even less than that, but I'm not seeing a Babette in our files. She must not be important to the people running the organization, in that case. But we'll see to it that she can't break out, of course."

"That's a relief. Least that psycho won't be out on the streets anymore." Neal let out a sigh of relief, just doing his best to keep up the charade. "In any case, that's unfortunately all I know, Mr. Lewis. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help." He hoped this would be the end of it, that he could waltz out of this room a free thief. After all, they weren't looking for him right now...they were after MIRROR. And as such, he could go undetected.

"That's fine. We're not expecting to stumble on some shocking revelation like this, but it pays to be thorough. One of my men can escort you out of the airship whenever you're ready to go home."

"Thank you." Neal flashed a smile, grabbing his bag and standing up. He pushed the chair in and was about to walk towards the door and one of Lewis' men...when he heard the sounds of clattering on the floor. He froze in his tracks, hoping that what he heard wasn't what he thought it was. Carefully and slowly, Neal glanced to his right side and his suspicions were unfortunately correct. There on the ground laid the paintings he stole earlier...and worst of all, his thief mask. It seemed that the bag had come open during the encounter with Babette. He looked down at the ground and the items there before looking back towards Austin. "...I'm still good to go, right?" He delivered a weak chuckle and an equally weak smile. ...busted...damnit...

"..." Austin looked down at the stolen art that had fallen to the ground, moving away from the desk for the first time in this meeting to assess the goods up close. Each painting received a long, discerning stare, and then Neal received much the same. "You are not. Unless you plan to try breaking out of the single most secure facility in the world, I suggest you sit down."

Neal was silent but let out a simple, knowing sigh as he put the bag down near the chair and slid back into it. The jig was up, so he had to just roll with the punches. "...I suppose it didn't hurt to ask regardless." he shrugged, folding his hand in front of him. "I will say...that was the most unfortunate timing."

"Since you've been so helpful as to bring these straight to the authorities, which will make it easier to return them to their rightful places," Austin started, picking up the paintings and setting them down in a neat stack on his desk. "I'll offer you a choice. You can join this team we're putting together to follow leads back to and hopefully eliminate MIRROR, or we can help you get familiar with one of the local jails in nearby Chicago for however long the judge says is fair. Just as a word of warning, joining the team will be the more dangerous option, but it's not jail now is it?"

"You know, Mr. Lewis..." Neal started, giving a bit of a sly smirk on his face. "Those paintings were technically going to their rightful places...just not back to the Chicago museum is all." He gave a small chuckle, before tapping the desk. "Not the point though. Your offer is appealing to the gambler in me, so allow me to give a bit of a bet for you, considering only one of those options allows me to keep away from the clink. I join your little party...I help you deal with MIRROR...but in return? After all is said and done: I walk away a free man. It's a gamble, sure...but here's the thing that you may not understand...I know what to look for with stuff like this. No one else could come close to realizing Babette's little acting except for me. A man in your position would be crazy to refuse the help and assistance from a thief. And I, myself, would be a fool to just give up and head to prison. So..." he smirked, looking at Austin with a bit of a wicked grin. "...what do you say?"

"Bold of you to say you caught on to Babette's act when, as my men tell it, you were also one of her hostages. Your pitch is sketchy, but your terms sound acceptable. If MIRROR is dismantled and you don't get killed along the way, your theft from the museum will be pardoned."

"Hostage is such a strong term to use, my good sir." Neal shrugged, seeming a bit insulted by that, but he let it go. "And sketchy is far from my modus operandi, sir. I'm just a simple thief giving it to you straight. Regardless, I believe this will work out in both our favors. I thank you for taking a chance on the dice."

[yui 576]

"Excellent. This way, please."

Four words that Sita had heard before, but this time it felt different in some intangible, inaudible way. As she and Tsurumi, among other guests to the big shindig of the day, were escorted into Air Force Zero, Sita couldn't help but admire the interior of the place. It was still a fortress, and there was no mistaking that, but despite the fact, it was remarkably well decorated. It looked how she imagined the inside of the White House that sat atop the airship must have looked, complete with the occasional sign pointing people in the right direction. How considerate! As much as Sita wanted to break off from the group and explore other parts of the airship, she knew that doing so would probably get her sent back the way she came at best, and if the guards were having a bad day, shot at worst.

No thanks.

Eventually, she and the others were brought to a room simply labeled "Lobby 2B", and she did in fact see Lobby 2A down the hall from there before stepping inside. The room was definitely a lobby, though the man waiting for them didn't seem like he was here for a coffee break. No, he was a man on business, and business is precisely what he was talking. Asking questions about the attack, giving what information he could in exchange, and effectively recruiting civilians to join some anti-terrorist team. Sita was no expert, but wasn't that last one legally as well as morally questionable? At least Mr. Lewis acknowledged as much himself.

Not that this would stop her, of course.

"I'd like to join this team of yours," Sita said, raising up a hand. Perhaps that was why she was at this festival in particular? To find her way here, and join with this team? She didn't like fighting, but she could certainly hold her own, and it looked like most of the people in here weren't as combat-savvy.

"Appreciated. Do you have any extra insights on the attack, as well?"

"I sure don't! I was focused on trying to get people away from the action."

"Wise move. Welcome to the team."

"Am I allowed to ask what you know about the team more in-depth?"

"Not in civilian company. Once we've got a team assembled, I'll talk to all of you as a unit and share what I know."

"Got it."

This was kind of exciting, despite the danger of it all, or perhaps because of it. It was like she was a real-life superhero, almost! Would she get a cool hero name? Something like... Stellagirl! No, that wasn't quite it. Well, even if she didn't get one, this would certainly be a series of events that she wouldn't want to forget or miss out on.

[(o ×) 228]

Tsurumi was corralled onto the airship, and try as she might, she quickly lost track of the route they had taken within. Gonna have a hell of a time finding an escape route it if comes to it… She knew that if she decided to cut and run, they would catch her before she was out of Chicago, and she suspected she wouldn’t be afforded the forgiveness that had already been put on the table. Was the tag even worth all this? Absolutely it was. She raised a shrouded eyebrow when she say a blade of ornamental grass on the floor of the hall, but chose not to say anything as she passed it by. It wasn’t long before the group had reached a small lobby, Tsurumi was pretty sure the sign on the door had said 2A.

Tsurumi sat quietly, doing her best not to fidget as the Secretary of Defense, named something as disarmingly youthful as Austin, recruited the political envoy that also happened to be a ten foot tall dinosaur, and then a weasley young man managed to talk his way out of the suicide mission. This seemed like a good idea to Tsurumi. Of course, as he stood, his shoulder bag that had most unfortuitously been left unzipped spilled forth its contents. As the paintings and surprisingly fashionable mask clattered to the ground, the conversation came to an abrupt halt. Tsurumi reckoned that she'd be able to hear a pin drop as those collected in the room all simultaneously pieced together the implication of contents of the man's bag.

Suddenly, he turned to Tsurumi, taking hold of both of her hands in his own, "We must flee, my origami princess! The law-man may be after us, but I know that we can live a beautiful life on the run if we keep our wits about us!" Tsurumi’s eyes sparkled as she struggled to catch her breath. Was the young maiden going to abandon her shining opportunity to go straight (at least in the moral sense) with the gorgeous jock Sita, for this Phantom Thief of Hearts?

Fortunately, or unfortunately, this was not a decision Tsurumi had to make as she was slammed back into reality by the law-man strong-arming the thief into his task force. It was then that she realized her own precarious legal situation, and the corner it may have backed her into. She tapped her foot nervously as Sita joined up as well, before she was left as the only available bachelorette in the room.

"So... That ultimatum the phantom thief was given... If my friend Sita had recently committed a crime, would she similarly be forced into joining?" Tsurumi fidgeted some more, avoiding eye contact with Sita, "I mean, of course she's already on board, she's just as brave as the day I met her, but... Hypothetically, is that how that would play out?"

"Hey!" Sita remarked, casting a glance at Tsurumi. She didn't seem mad about it, more surprised than anything.

"That depends on the crime," Austin said, after a moment to consider it. "If she murdered somebody, for example, we wouldn't even give her the chance to join us as an out from jail. But on the flipside, if it was something like serial littering, we'd probably just throw her out with a warning if she didn't want in. Fortunately, she's not a criminal as far as we know, and she'll be seeing the world with us to try and put a stop to MIRROR of her own free will."

"So... If hypothetically, Sita was a vandal..."

"We'd let her go with a fine."

"And how significant would this fine be..?"

"That depends, too. Worst case scenario, if she did something like defaced government property, she'd be losing at least a thousand dollars."

Now, for many, such a fine would be an inconvenience. For a 23-year-old jobless college dropout, such an expense would be back-breaking. She probably would have to serve it out rather than pay it off.

"I'll join up, just to keep Sita out of trouble."

"I'm not in trouble though," Sita huffed, putting her foot down on Tsurumi's toes. Lightly, so as to not hurt her. Much to her surprise, the toes flattened under Sita's foot, despite putting no real force into it. It must have been related to Tsurumi's power somehow. Tsurumi gave her a sly grin, as her foot returned to its normal shape, lightly poking hers back.

[yui 576]

The envoy was in. The thief was in. The nomad was in. The vandal was in. By the sounds of it, possibly discounting Íroas, who was permitted to be in on this info anyway as the President's temporary bodyguard, it seemed everybody was interested in joining the team! That was a far better result than Austin could have hoped for.

"Well then, since it seems you're all willing to join... to be honest, I was sure at least somebody would say no. In fact, realistically, I expected none of you to sign up. If you'll all follow me, we can introduce you to the rest of the team."

"Uhh, sir?" a woman's voice called through a walkie-talkie on the desk.

"...one moment, please." Austin picked up the device. "Lewis here. What is it?"

"We, uhh, had a bit of a break-in down here. But--"

"What!?"

"Everything's fine, sir, don't worry!"

"And the prisoners?"

"All in their cells. Agent Nightmare is still under sedation. Everything's a-okay, sir!"

"And our intruder?"

"Gone. He showed up, talked with Agent Friend for a bit, then left. We couldn't really do much about it at the time, sir. Aside from a bit of hair in Tom's mouth, it's like our guy was never here."

"I see. Don't lose that hair; I'll have someone look at it so we can try to track down the suspect. Lewis out." With a long, exasperated sigh, Austin set the device down. "You'd be surprised how hard it is to find decent guards these days. But that's not our job in the team I'm putting you in. If you'd follow me."

With that, Austin led the newly-officially-unofficial team members out of Lobby 2A, taking careful note of the turns he was making within Air Force Zero. Those with a particularly sharp sense of direction would notice that at some points, he seemed to make turns that were completely unnecessary or looped the group back around to points they were already in, though he did so with full confidence in where he was going and the path he was taking to get there.

"The team doesn't have an official name, because there's no documentation about us. It's a bit of an extra security measure, to ensure that we leave no paper trail. Shortly after MIRROR first started taking international action, Ja... ahem, Mr. Roosevelt told me to assemble a small team to track them down, learn everything we could about them, then wipe them out. Easier said than done. Their leader's a slippery bitch, and quite frankly, we think that she may have been onto us the entire time and let us gather intel. Except for anything pertaining to her. And I don't want to charge in against an unknown foe, especially if my hunch is right, so for the time being, we'll be seeing about gathering further intel. But first, you should get to know your new teammates."

---

JUNE 11TH, 2030, 2:24 P.M.
LOCATION: AIR FORCE ZERO, MEETING ROOM

As opposed to the two lobbies on the second floor, the first floor of the air fortress had a larger, singular room, clearly meant more for official meetings than for taking a coffee break, based on the more expensive-looking furniture and the numerous American flags hanging along the walls. Inside, a small gathering of five people sat around the table, sharing what was ultimately just glorified small talk among each other. As the important and astonishingly boring topic of one's favorite kind of cheese came up, the door opened, and in stepped Austin Lewis, in the company of five new faces.

"Alright team, we've got new members. I want each of you to introduce yourselves one at a time, name and area of expertise, to help our new faces get familiar."

"I'm John West, an engineer," the singular man of the team said first as he raised his hand. In the other hand was a cigarette that had just recently been put out, which he set down in the table's suspiciously clean-looking ashtray. "Officially, I'm actually a civil engineer - or, was I guess, before joining up here - but to be honest I know more about weapons than infrastructure. If you need something built or fixed, I'm your guy."

"The meeting room is a no-smoking area, John."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Dayna Miller, nousology specialist and the woman who runs our analytics," said a red-haired woman. She gave each of the new arrivals a look over that was too long to be called short, but too short to be called anything else. She seemed rather unimpressed by most of them, until her gaze moved to Íroas, at which point her immediate shock was apparent on her face. "That's impossible..."

"Something wrong?"

"...it's nothing. I'm completely useless in a fight, so unless you need me to look at something, don't bother me. Especially not for poker night."

"Definitely don't bring her, she cheats!" a girl a couple seats down from Dayna shouted. Prior to this accusation, she and the girl next to her seemed to be discussing something quietly between the two of them. "Doesn't even try to hide it!"

"Yes, yes, we're all aware. Sorry for her little outburst. We're May & Fay Schneider. May is our combat expert, and until about a week ago, I've been spying on MIRROR from the inside."

"May's intel is why we hired you and Magpie," Austin commented, leaning toward Íroas. "I don't fully understand her powers, but since they're twins, they have a telepathic link in addition to their own separate powers. Very useful for a spy."

"Very useful indeed! Thank you, sir."

"And I'm Abby. Abby Collins." The last and shortest team member gave the new arrivals a casual wave. "I can do some mechanical fixing up too, but I'm actually here as the team doctor. I can't perform any surgeries, but I can fix you up if you get ripped to shreds out there. Try to avoid that, though."

"And that's our team. You've joined just in time to get to see the world, in fact. Now that our job at the centennial is wrapped up, we're being deployed to Novaroma. The Triumvirate's also in on our little operation - they were even kind enough to send the twins our way, in fact - and a few days ago, a letter arrived saying they have some intel we'd be interested in. Hope none of you are prone to seasickness."

Austin stopped himself for a moment, with the clear expression of suddenly remembering something.

"Ah, right, as for the envoy in the room." Austin turned and gave Stalag a nod. "I'll escort you to meet with the President myself. Once your talk with him has wrapped up, we can start heading east to catch our boat."

[Mr. Hyde 204]

As the other members of the freshly made group went around and conversed with Mr. Lewis, Stalag raised a ridge in confusion.  None of his new teammates had introduced themselves.  Were they ashamed of their names?  But their deeds at the festival were so honorable?  How peculiar...smooth-skin cultures still eluded him.  The tip of his rose and fell against the floor in annoyance.  He wished to know these most noble smooth-skins!  

"Well then, since it seems you're all willing to join... to be honest, I was sure at least somebody would say no. In fact, realistically, I expected none of you to sign up. If you'll all follow me, we can introduce you to the rest of the team."

"It is only natural that you would need me!  So I can only humbly accept your request!"  Stalag was also surprised that the rest of these humans had accepted being apart of an operation with a Meteor Kin.  Usually, he could only perceive fear from the smaller mammals.  Being a predator, he was especially perceptive of the smell that arose from the emotion.  However, eyes told a much different story.  He still hadn't caught their gaze to see their true feelings towards his people.  Stalag stood from his seat and took a knee, humbly lowering his head to the others.  "I am the thankful.  Hopefully we may extend friendly greetings at another time."

As Stalag had done this, a message came on a device held by Mr. Lewis.  He wasn't able to make out the particulars, but something had happened that was now under control.  Nothing to worry about!

"You'd be surprised how hard it is to find decent guards these days. But that's not our job in the team I'm putting you in. If you'd follow me."

"A shame!  I would do a great guarding of the bodies!  My body is like that of Iron!"  Stalag flexed his muscles in a display of power, almost sending a shockwave throughout the small hallways.  He froze in embarrassment, as he scratched the back of his neck.  "Please, be leading of the way!"  It took a moment of meandering before they all were led to the Meeting Room.  Perplexingly, Mr. Lewis had taken his time retracing their steps around the ship to get here.  

"The team doesn't have an official name, because there's no documentation about us. It's a bit of an extra security measure, to ensure that we leave no paper trail. Shortly after MIRROR first started taking international action, Ja... ahem, Mr. Roosevelt told me to assemble a small team to track them down, learn everything we could about them, then wipe them out. Easier said than done. Their leader's a slippery bitch, and quite frankly, we think that she may have been onto us the entire time and let us gather intel. Except for anything pertaining to her. And I don't want to charge in against an unknown foe, especially if my hunch is right, so for the time being, we'll be seeing about gathering further intel. But first, you should get to know your new teammates."

 

---

 

Stalag was introduced to five more members of the group, his predecessors!  John West, Weapons, a soon to be close ally of the Mightjaw Clan.  Dayna Miller, a woman with hair as fiery as his skin, Analytics...whatever those were.  May and Fay Schneider, Combat and Spying...Stalag wished to test himself against a smooth-skin with expertise in the field of fighting!  Last and certainly least was Abby Collins, With Doctor, a frail specimen of a human female.  Perhaps there was more to her than met the eye.  No matter their stature or strength, Stalag was excited at the mere prospect of befriending more smooth-skins...or rather...humans.

"It is an honor to be doing the meeting with you!  I am Stalag Mightjaw, envoy of the Meteor Kin."  Stalag bowed to each of them individually.  "I wish to becoming the close with humans, and learn from them, as much as they are to be doing the learning from me!  May we find many victories together!"  

"And that's our team. You've joined just in time to get to see the world, in fact. Now that our job at the centennial is wrapped up, we're being deployed to Novaroma. The Triumvirate's also in on our little operation - they were even kind enough to send the twins our way, in fact - and a few days ago, a letter arrived saying they have some intel we'd be interested in. Hope none of you are prone to seasickness."

Seasickness?  What was that?  Stalag was never the one to get sick!  He was the paradigm of health!

"Ah, right, as for the envoy in the room." Austin turned and gave Stalag a nod. "I'll escort you to meet with the President myself. Once your talk with him has wrapped up, we can start heading east to catch our boat."

"I am understanding!"  Stalag turned back towards the other new team members.  "I expect introductions at the level of our seniors by the time I return!"  Stalag raised his tail, and slammed it on the floor of the meeting room.  "Do not be doing the dissappointing of me!"  With that, Stalag returned to meet Mr. Lewis and exchanged his own nod.  "Let us being doing the meeting now." 

 

---

 

 Austin, not entirely sure what to make of the envoy in the room, gave Stalag a nod.

"Yes. Let's." With that, the two men left the room for the time being. In a stark contrast to the winding path he had taken to lead everyone to the meeting room in the first place, the path he took to get back near where he started was remarkably straightforward, eventually going past the lobbies Stalag and company had been in not long ago, further up and into the depths of Air Force Zero, and eventually to a heavily-guarded elevator. An elevator that, as Stalag would soon learn, led up to the White House sitting atop the airship.

The inside of the White House, as opposed to the highly utilitarian, minimalistic decor of Air Force Zero, was what one would expect of a national leader's place of residence. Well-kept, well-decorated, and with wide, open hallways. Eventually, Stalag was brought to the Oval Office, and standing behind the desk, talking with and then dismissing a suited woman with incredibly convenient timing, was President Jack Roosevelt himself. He turned, smiled, and nodded toward Stalag and his escort of one.

"Ah, yes, our Aztec envoy. I'd like to personally apologize that you had to get caught up in that display by MIRROR. With that said, shall we get down to business?"

Here he was, mere feet away from him, in the flesh!  The man who shook his chest cavity alone with just his voice, Jack Roosevelt.  It took some time to get here.  This was truly an experience he never had hoped he would have.  The feeling was elating.  

"Mr. Roosevelt, an immense honor I am feeling!"  Stalag bowed his head low, almost showing his back in a display of respectful submission.  "This business is getting down, immediately!"  He almost hesitated to take a seat from the man he had heard so much about...what was this emotion he was feeling.  It was as he was sitting across a predator three times his size!  Someone who could devour him whole in a single bite.  His stomach rose, and his knees almost buckled, as he sat himself down across the President of the United States.  "Let us do the saying...that the land was returned to you...what are to become of my people?"  His eyes narrowed at the mention of the future of the Meteor Kin.  He had found his resolve, and it was steeled.  

"Were our lost states returned to us, the Meteor-Kin within their borders would of course be welcomed as equal citizens of the United States of America. On this, you have my word. Not many of them live in our territory, so we would have to survey your people to assess their needs to ensure they are met, and this is of course not an overnight process. What to do with those who wish to remain citizens of the New Aztec Republic is a topic I would prefer to discuss with King Manuel himself, but we will see to it that the Meteor-Kin are integrated into their new nation as seamlessly and harmlessly as possible."

"The Meteor Kin are autonomous of King Manuel...surely you are the knowing this?  Our society does not rely on the help of The New Aztec Republic.  We meet our own needs.  The Meteor Kin are a proud people, and we do not need the help of the United States."  Stalag huffed out of his nose.  "We have had very good relations with King Manuel and his government for this fact, and many others.  We have made our intentions clear with him as well.  It is the hope of the Meteor Kin to be creating our our own nation."  He crossed his arms.  "Would this be a willingness of your government?  To give the land we rose from, to us?  To govern our people as we are the seeing fit?"  

"That's a more complicated topic, I'm afraid. If you don't mind, I'd like to teach a bit of our history to you, as it is related to your question." Roosevelt nodded toward the wall to Stalag's left, from which hung a large map of the United States, as it was before The Crisis. The states that disappeared in that week were still there, as were the ones that were eventually claimed up by the New Aztec Republic; the very lands that were now being discussed. "Do you know why the New Aztec Republic is considered New, Mr. Mightjaw?"

"I understand the land was the taken from your Government after the Crisis by the first King.  As I am the seeing it, it was rightfully conquered."  Stalag scratched his head.  "I am the thinking the United States was relatively new in a similar fashion. Is my thinking of this the wrong?"  

"You are partially correct. After The Crisis, the United Mexican States fell apart in a series of tragic events. The founding King of the New Aztec Republic re-united the people, then marched north and took much of our land as well. However, much of that land, if you can believe it, was originally part of Mexico. In the year 1846, Mexico and America went to war, and it wasn't until 1848 that peace was made. The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was signed, and in its terms was the requirement that Mexico cede much of its territory to the United States. So, the land that the Aztecs took from us was in fact taken from Mexico. But it goes a bit further than that still.  In the year 1492, a Spanish sailor named Christopher Columbus set foot on these lands on behalf of his European masters. This led to the rapid colonization of the Americas and the Caribbean. However, there were already indigenous peoples living here when Columbus arrived. You may have even met some descendants of those peoples, if you've been to the northern NAR. These peoples had societies and nations of their own, yet when push came to shove, we took this land for ourselves. It is not a chapter of our history that anyone should be proud of, be they American, Mexican, or anything else living on this side of the planet, but a chapter it was. However, while I can't speak for other nations, I do know that here, we had chosen to set aside land for the descendants of those peoples, so they may live in their ancestral homeland.  This is an arrangement that can certainly be made for the Meteor-Kin as well, but if you seek full sovereignty of an entirely new and independent nation, I feel discussions of granting your people such a thing over the lands of your predecessors would have to be made in the presence of both myself and King Manuel."

Stalag took in the history lesson with care.  Of course he was briefed on most of this beforehand.  Whether he had listened as intently as he had just now was anyone's guess.  He just wished to hear what the President Himself would say.

"Understandably so.  But let us be going back even the further.  Hundreds of millions of years ago, an ancient clade of reptiles roamed these lands.  You know these creatures well.  You disturbed their ancient burials and display them in your museums...much akin to trophies.  They had no concepts of nations, of course.  But territory...they knew very well."  Stalag looked to the roof of the white house, staring beyond it.  "Their rule was ended in an instant...but thanks to the Crisis...they were reborn...reforged...as the Meteor Kin.  We had no intention of being revived under the same sun as you humans.  We had no intention of ever having territory ever again.  But we are alive now.  Our claim to this land runs deeper than any blood that was spilt during any war you may have waged in the past.  King Manuel understands this."  Stalag brought his gaze back to meet the Presidents.  "That is why we wish to remain separate from both the United States, and the New Aztec Republic.  But that is why we also wish to make friendly relations with the both of you.  We wish not for violence, Mr. President...but my people have no intention of being called...Americans...or Aztec..."  He uncrossed his arms to look at his clawed hand.  "Surely you can understand why."  

"Well said, Mr. Mightjaw. Well said indeed. Presently, most if not all of the land that was home to tyrannosaurus rex - which I would guess your specific line of Meteor-Kin are related to, if you'll pardon the assumption," It was a very good assumption,  "- is Aztec territory, so forming your own nation would presently be under your King's jurisdiction. If these territories were to change hands to America, I am however open to discussing the matter with your people myself. You may even wish to discuss this with His Highness yourself upon returning home, if you feel so inclined!"

"Um, actually, Mr. President, about that," Austin briefly interjected. "Stalag has announced his intentions to join the anti-MIRROR team."

"Oh, my, I had no idea. Get someone to prepare a letter for King Manuel after our talk here has included. I want the details of our conversation as well as the news that he may not be coming home for some time, if he's out saving the world. Manuel has it out for those people as much as I do, so I'm sure he'll understand. Knowing him, he'd even approve. But, back to the matter at hand. The return of Meteor-Kin territory to your people is simply not a matter I have the authority to speak in on at present, but I will keep what we've discussed on that front at the forefront of my mind should those territories move into our hands instead of yours. As for the states that your people do not occupy, what were the other concerns of the Aztec government?"

"I understand the King has concerns of the rest of his citizens that have relocated to the Northern territories of the Republic.  As I'm sure you're informed, the Southern Hemisphere of our globe has become hostile to life due to rising temperatures...He is reluctant to release the land to you with the concern that his people will have to move back into the inhospitable lands."  Stalag's tail tapped on the ground in curiosity.  "Is there a specific reason this land needs to be returned?  Why not proliferate friendly relations with the Republic instead?"  

"Our reason is much the same as the reason the Meteor-Kin want certain states ceded to them. It was our territory. Louisiana in particular, for example, was already part of the United States before the Mexican-American War. There are no shortage of eldery Americans whose homes were taken over in the Aztec-American war following The Crisis. I do seek to foster friendly relations with our neighbors, make no mistake, but I must also pursue the interests of the people. Even if I didn't want the land back, they would."

Stalag scratched his chin.  He couldn't fault the President for the same mindset he harbored himself.  Truly, politics was a tricky game.

"Perhaps a compromise is required?  What if the Aztec Republic was to pay reparations, while maintaining a smaller portion of the land they've acquired?"  Stalag smiled.  "There's always an alternative solution that I'm told my ancestors participated in frequently."  

"You may be onto something, Mr. Mightjaw. Owing to King Manuel's efforts, the New Aztec Republic is quite the economic powerhouse. We would certainly be able to benefit from reparation payments. Though, I am curious, what is this alternative solution you've mentioned?"

Stalag's toothy grin beamed brightly. 

"A duel, of course!  You and King Manuel shall fight for the right to rule the land you both stake claim too!  It is only natural that the strong get their keep!  And who better to represent opposing sides than the leaders themselves!"  Stalag let out a mighty, and excited roar.  "The thought sends tingles down my scales!  I wish I could partake in such glory!!!"  Stalag calmed himself, clearing his throat.  "I am told that these are old ways...you know how us Fossils are though!  RAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

Roosevelt echoed Stalag's laugh with a hearty laugh of his own.

"Old ways, indeed. Martial duels have no place in politics these days, but I just might extend the offer to His Highness purely for sport. I'd like to thank you again, Mr. Mightjaw, not only for aiding in our fight against MIRROR, but for your time and insights on our current political situation. However, if I keep you much longer, Mr. Lewis might start getting antsy. I'll have a letter sent to King Manuel detailing what we've discussed here, and informing him that you've volunteered for a classified mission alongside some of our men. In the meantime, I'll begin doing some personal research into the present situation of the Meteor-Kin, to best foster America's relationship with your people, be you your own nation, or an invaluable part of one of ours. Unless you have any closing questions or comments, you're free to meet back up with your team now."

"No, Mr. President.  My job here is the done.  I have said my peace.  It was truly incredible to meet you and discuss the matters of my people.  I hope all of these issues have peaceful resolutions.  Despite our appearance, the Meteor Kin truly only want to live in this world that has given us a second chance."  Stalag stood from his seat, and bowed once more.  "I hope we meet again.  But for now, we've got a mirror to be smashing."  He turned to Mr. Lewis with a smile.  "I will be taking after you once again!"  

[yui 576]

So, this was the team? Sita had to admit, she expected more people. Something about "secret team built to take down an international terrorist organization" gave her the feeling of something more like a small organization in and of itself, Yet it was just what, five or six people, new arrivals aside? The Meteor-Kin of the group was being taken away for a personal meeting with the President, apparently being an envoy of some sort. That was pretty neat! From the talks that happened upstairs a bit earlier, the guy who stole those paintings was... well, a thief of some kind. And then there was everyone else. The President's (temporary) bodyguard, Sita herself, and the girl she met earlier. The uh... her... yeah, Sita definitely knew her...

Sita turned her head to the girl in question, with a focused, curious look on her face. She replayed their meeting in her head once or twice to be sure, only to find herself confirming what she suspected. She had no idea what this chick's name was.

"That dino's got a point. I just realized I don't even know your name. Mine's Sita, so mind filling me in on yours?"

Tsurumi tilted her head, the corner of her eye briefly visible as her hair swayed. She was certain that they had already introduced themselves to each other, but wasn't sure when that could have happened among all the chaos. Did she simply guess this girl's name correctly? That didn't sound right, but was the only explanation available to her at that moment. "Yeah, you can call me Ta-" she paused briefly, before shrugging and continuing, "er, my name's Tsurumi."

"And just like that, we're friends! Officially, I mean. Actually... does anyone here know their way around a fight?"

"Kinda," May answered from the table. The rest of the table gave a wave of shrugs and shaking heads in response to the question.

"Hm. What about you three?" The big guy definitely could manage, if his display of strength at the MIRROR attack was any indicator. But these other two? All Sita knew about them was one was an art thief and the other was named Tsurumi. It was probably a good idea to get a feel for who would have to look out for whom if things came to blows. Which, given the purpose of this little team, was more of a when than an if.

[Saikazo 241]

Íroas sighed to himself as the debriefing came to an end. It seemed all was well with this new group. He wouldn't have to worry about one of them suddenly going "Ha ha! I was with MIRROR all along! Now you all die!". Or at least, not for now. They could be trying to infiltrate the ranks. Not that he could help with that. He was pretty sure he'd have to go back to the Nova Roma after all was said and done.

So as it turned out, the United States was making an anti-MIRROR team. They didn't have a name, which Íroas thought was a shame. Granted, that sentiment probably just came from the fact the Romans being very dramatic across the board. Still, he would definitely suggest the name SHATTER to the Triumvirate when he got home. No doubt they would make their own anti-MIRROR team after all. 

They met all the old members of the team. One guy, and four women. With the new aboard that would be about nine members strong. That was actually a pretty good taskforce, all considered. 

"And that's our team. You've joined just in time to get to see the world, in fact. Now that our job at the centennial is wrapped up, we're being deployed to Novaroma. The Triumvirate's also in on our little operation - they were even kind enough to send the twins our way, in fact - and a few days ago, a letter arrived saying they have some intel we'd be interested in. Hope none of you are prone to seasickness."

Oh, there were two fellow Romans here. He figured he should say hi to them, but he had a feeling that he might get caught up in extended conversation. That was not something he wanted to do now. Or ever. Looking around, he tried to locate some food, or something to drink, but in the end, he couldn't anything obvious signs. With a sigh, he called out in a polite and level tone.

"Is there anywhere I could get food?" 

"Yeah, we've got a big pantry that's kept well-stocked here on the airship," John nodded, already getting up out of his seat. "In case of long flights, y'know? Want me to show you the way?"

"Please, that would be most helpful." Íroas said, thankful for the help.

"Sure thing." Gesturing for the giant of a man to follow him, John left the meeting room as well, wordlessly leading the way through the halls and corridors of Air Force Zero. The most socializing that happened along the way was the occasional airship guard or other employee passing by, who received a gesture of acknowledgement from John, but that was about it, until the pair reached a room with a sign over the door that clearly read "Kitchen."

The inside of the kitchen was about what one would expect of a place meant to cook for large numbers of people. Not terribly spacious, but laid out efficiently, but with only one or two copies of each cooking appliance. And, perhaps most notably, a staircase leading up to the second story of the airship. "Sorry if it's a bit small for you in here," John shrugged. "We can't exactly refurbish the place, and going all the way up to the White House's kitchen just seems needlessly excessive. But hey, we've got the bigger fridge down here." Around counters, ovens, and mini freezers, John navigated the kitchen into a large walk-in refrigerator. Inside was all manner of meats, vegetables, beverages, and other perishables, meticulously sorted and quite well stocked.

"Well, I'm used to that. The world isn't built for people like me." Íroas commented as he looked around the kitchen. "Is there anything I need to keep my hands off of? You know, some food they wouldn't want me to eat?" He didn't want to cause some sort of international incident because he ate some important dinner after all.

"Nah, just don't eat anything that's got someone's name on it, same as any other workplace kitchen. All the important stuff for important people is stored up in the White House. Usually eaten there, too."

"Gotcha." Íroas nodded as he looked around the kitchen. He managed to find a whole platter of burgers sitting on the table. It looked like a feast for everyone. However, all those burgers would probably be just enough to fill him up. Besides, he heard the legendary American meal known as the burger, and he wished to try it himself. 

Now he just needed something to drink. Opening the fridge, he carefully scooted his way in, making sure he didn't knock anything over. He could see a jug of some sort of brown liquid. The label identified it as sweet tea. However, a certain claim of this jug baffled the man. 

"Hey, did this really come from a cow?" Íroas asked as he lifted up the jug and presented it to John.

"...yeah?" With a confused tilt of his head, John asked in return, "What else would come out of cows?"

"Well, back home, cows produce beer. Or wine, if they eat nothing but grapes." Íroas explained. What a strange fact he learned today.

"Huh. Weird."

With nothing else to say, Íroas picked up the jug and the tray of food. He carefully walked back to the meeting room. He placed his food and jug on the table. He didn't really pay attention to anyone else as he picked up a burger with a single hand, opening his mouth and eating it whole. 

He wasn't ready for blast of flavor that assaulted his tongue. While he wouldn't call it the greatest thing he ever consumed, it was very good. He could see why Americans love this stuff. He threw another burger into his mouth before realized someone was talking. 

"And just like that, we're friends! Officially, I mean. Actually... does anyone here know their way around a fight?"

"Kinda,"

"Hm. What about you three?"

"Depends." Íroas answered after chewing. There was a pause, like people waited for him to continue.

He did not continue.

[Chaos Sonic 443]

Neal practically watched his entire thieving career go down the tubes at this point. He was now basically a pawn in this Anti-MIRROR force for the government...this wasn't the kind of roll of the dice he was expecting to deal with. But it was the way things would go, the dice fell where they lay, and he had to deal with it. Besides...it'd all be his for the taking anyway. Best to just play along with these folks for the time being...just until he can profit properly.

"Alright team, we've got new members. I want each of you to introduce yourselves one at a time, name and area of expertise, to help our new faces get familiar."
"I'm John West, an engineer. Officially, I'm actually a civil engineer - or, was I guess, before joining up here - but to be honest I know more about weapons than infrastructure. If you need something built or fixed, I'm your guy."
"Dayna Miller, nousology specialist and the woman who runs our analytics. I'm completely useless in a fight, so unless you need me to look at something, don't bother me. Especially not for poker night."
"Definitely don't bring her, she cheats! Doesn't even try to hide it!"
"Yes, yes, we're all aware. Sorry for her little outburst. We're May & Fay Schneider. May is our combat expert, and until about a week ago, I've been spying on MIRROR from the inside."
"And I'm Abby. Abby Collins. I can do some mechanical fixing up too, but I'm actually here as the team doctor. I can't perform any surgeries, but I can fix you up if you get ripped to shreds out there. Try to avoid that, though."
"And that's our team. You've joined just in time to get to see the world, in fact. Now that our job at the centennial is wrapped up, we're being deployed to Novaroma. The Triumvirate's also in on our little operation - they were even kind enough to send the twins our way, in fact - and a few days ago, a letter arrived saying they have some intel we'd be interested in. Hope none of you are prone to seasickness."

Well this was certainly a motley crew if Neal ever saw one. They seemed to each have their own niche in terms of a coherent team...though he doubted that theirs would fair any better in the grand scheme of things.

"I expect introductions at the level of our seniors by the time I return!"

The young man watched the dino man walk off, shaking his head slightly. ...I highly doubt that'll be the case. Not like most of us are going to be exactly friendly towards one another in an instant...unless he thinks we will. Might have to ask what he's on and if he's got more cause I may need some. he smirked at this thought, hearing the others starting to chatter some more.

"That dino's got a point. I just realized I don't even know your name. Mine's Sita, so mind filling me in on yours?"
"Yeah, you can call me Ta-...er, my name's Tsurumi."
"And just like that, we're friends! Officially, I mean. Actually... does anyone here know their way around a fight?"
"Kinda,"
"Hm. What about you three?"
"Depends."

"I suppose I may as well give an introduction, seeing as we'll be working together...albeit against my will..." Neal trailed off at the end of that sentence before he cleared his throat, giving a smile. "Neal LeBeau, though I suppose...considering you may not know me by that name, I'll say the persona I go by in my line of work: Arsène Beau, gentleman thief extraordinare, at your service."

There was some quiet murmuring from behind the table, between the team members seated back there, at the mention of an "Arsène Beau." However, none of them seemed to have any comments on the matter worth sharing with the roster's new additions.

Sita, however, did. With a tilt of her head and a raised eyebrow, she asked "Who?"

Neal was quiet before rubbing the bridge of his nose slightly. "Surely you jest. Surely you know of Arsène Beau, the gentleman thief that's been stealing quite a bit important things. An example, my previous exploits in Chicago...I stole the entirety of their Chinese Jade exhibit...making a profit by returning them to their rightful homeland. It was in the papers and tabloids."

"Sorry, I haven't been in or near Chicago for a while before today. I must have missed that edition."

In somewhat of a contrast to Sita's failure to recognize the story, there were at least a couple "Ohhhhhh"s of mild realization from the table.

"Let me guess, you got caught red-handed?" Dayna asked from her seat.

"From that? Certainly not, my dear." Neal pointed at Dayna, wagging a finger. "I was in and out without much of an issue. Now a chase, yes, but was never caught...until...today." He let out a bit of a sigh, waving his hand dismissively. "I suppose every thief is to be caught eventually."

"Most criminals get caught sooner or later. Preferably sooner, no offense."

"I feel like there was some venom behind those words there, but you are correct." Neal shrugged. "Regardless, tis a roll of dice I was presented."

"And now you're here, working with a top-secret federally-sanctioned team to try and stop a bunch of terrorists. I'm sure a thief's skillset will come in handy sooner or later."

"That is the hope, if I'm honest." the young man chuckled, as he glanced in Iroas' direction, hearing him speak.

"Oh, I'm probably not going to work with you all." Iroas said as he ate another burger. "More than likely. Nova Roma will have their own Anti-MIRROR strike force and I'll join that."

"A wonderful addition to the conversation, my stoic ally." Neal sighed, glancing at the plate of food Iroas had. When he shrugged, he lifted his arm up to him to show...a burger now in his hand, most likely to Iroas' shock, but the young man never moved. "Pity that we won't be working together, but...oh well." He took a hefty bite from the burger, taking a moment to have it process before continuing. "And to answer your question, I'm more of a...non-combatant with my skill set. But, doesn't mean I don't know how to. I just prefer not to."

[(o ×) 228]

Introductions weren’t something that Tsurumi had paid particularly close attention to, though she found the pair of twins to be intriguing at the very least. Her bigger concern at this point was with what the group of recruits had heard before being shuffled out of the meeting earlier.

“Sooooo…” Tsurumi did her best to avoid staring at the pair of twins, “we heard something about a break-in earlier. Is that something we should be worried about?”

“If Geri says it’s all fine up there, we should take her at her word,” Fay answered. From her lap, she set a large sketchpad down on the table in front of her, fetched a pencil from some unknown pocket on her person, and got to sketching something. “It’s unusual for psychics to be able to break into facilities like this under normal circumstances. And even if it wasn’t…”

Fay slammed her hand on the sketchpad, causing a hovering image of Air Force Zero’s layout to spring from the page, floating in the air in front of her. She pointed the pencil to one large room that, based on the plan, was rather difficult to access. “The prison block is in a spot that makes it tough to get to, or tough to leave the airship through if people know there’s a breakout happening. Plus, there’s only one way in or out, and we have mechanisms to lock the place down real tight. If there was a risk of trouble, we’d know about it by now.”

“We could always go check it out if you’re that worried, though,” May added. “And we could get that hair Geri mentioned while we’re at it.”

“Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait.” Tsurumi stammered nervously, “By ‘we’, do you mean…”

“You’d be coming with, yeah. You’re the one who asked about it, so you’ve gotta come with.”

Two-for-one Deal!?

Tsurumi was taken aback. She had only just joined the team, but she was already an integral member?? This pair of adorable twin sisters needed her. Of course, it would fit her desire even better if one of them was a boy, but this wasn’t one of the books she used to read in her room, after all! Two girls was still a catch!

As they walked their way toward the prison block, each twin held one of Tsurumi’s hands. They were in lock-step as she skipped gleefully. She wasn’t sure how she would break it to Sita and the Phantom Thief of Hearts, but she knew that the right place for her was snugly in the middle of this matching set.

Of course, once the trio had reached the prison block, she looked down to see that both of her hands were empty, and the twins were several paces ahead of her, having a conversation of their own that they apparently didn’t feel the need to involve her in. Figures.

The prison block of Air Force Zero was as much a prison block as one could imagine. Once Tsurumi and the twins stepped through the block's singular door in or out, they were met with the sight of rows of cells on either side of a long hallway, most of which were currently unoccupied, and the MIRROR agents that sat in the few exceptions didn’t seem to be in much of a talking mood at present. Patrolling around the cells were armed guards, who seemed to be chattering amongst themselves over the recent break-in that had been mentioned.

“It really is like nobody broke in,” Fay mused to herself, already making her way to one of the guards.

“And off goes Detective Fay,” May sighed. “She loves mystery shit like this.”

“Did they take anything? It doesn’t look like anyone was injured.” Tsurumi held a hand to her chin, looking around for any kind of clue, which undoubtedly she was incapable of finding herself.

“Not much here to take, far as I know. The doors use machines to open and close too, so you can’t even hold the keys for ransom since we don’t have any.”

“Then what’s the goal?” Tsurumi froze, in a combination of excitement and terror, “AN ASSASSINATION???”

“Oooh, that would be a spicy plot! Some sinister ghost-man breaks into the fortress, out to finish what the thwarted villains of MIRROR have started! And his only hope for survival is…”

“Please don’t drag our new friends into your delusions,” Fay sighed, returning to the pair, and holding out for them, a long, silver piece of hair. “Here’s our hair. If we bring it back to Dayna, she’ll be able to tell us more about the head it came from.”

“From just the hair?”

“Mhm. It’s hard to describe, but she can see information, as if everything around her has sticky notes telling her all about it.” Opening up the trusty sketchbook once more, Fay further elaborated while sketching, “For example, you can’t see what I’m drawing. But if Dayna saw the sketchbook’s back side, she’d be able to–”

“It’s a dolphin,” May interrupted.

“And that is a cheating rat,” Fay groaned, casting a disdainful glare at her twin. “Point being, she’d see what’s on the open page of the sketchbook, even if she can only see the cover on the back.”

“It’s how she cheats at cards, too,” May added. “She just looks at the cards in your hand, and knows exactly what you’re holding. Or she can look at the deck and see what order the rest of the cards are stacked in. It’s completely unfair!”

“Wait, Dayna is the redhead? So her getting spooked by Tarzan means…”

“Whatever she saw, it must have been very unusual.”

“She’s usually more the type to wanna dissect your powers than get spooked by them. Like a frog! A very big frog.”
 

[yui 576]

After Stalag & Austin returned from the former's meeting with President Roosevelt, and Tsurumi & the twins came back from their prison check-in, Austin gathered the newly-expanded team around the table. As he set his hand down on the table, the sharp-earred of the group may have thought for the moment that the sound of his hand touching the desk didn't quite sound right, but there wasn't much time to sit on it before he explained the immediate plan.

"Alright, team, listen up. As mentioned, we're going to Novaroma to meet up with the Triumvirate. Lazaros, one of their number, sent us a letter a couple of weeks ago saying he found his way into some intel on MIRROR he thought we'd be interested in. Something even Fay wouldn't have dug up, if he thought it was worth sending for us directly. That said, the Triumvirate isn't known for just giving stuff like this out for free, so expect us doing the Triumvirate a favor or two. Once we have this intel, I'll work out how we're supposed to act on whatever Lazaros tells us. Our ship to Europe take off tonight, and then we've got a long boat trip and a bit of a train ride ahead."

OP
Chapter 1: Heavy is the Head

JUNE 17TH, 2030, 3:09 P.M.
LOCATION: ROME, NOVAROMA, MERCURIUS GRAND STATION

"Finally."

After a largely uneventful boat ride, save for whatever social excitement the team had gotten into over the several days at sea, the ship bearing the heroes-to-be - as well as many other passengers - had come into port in eastern France in the event. From there, it was time for one long train ride, which ran overnight across the vast expanses of land Novaroma called its own. The following afternoon, the capital city was in sight, and at last, the team's stop had come. As Austin stepped out of the train, following behind the rest of the team, he gave his limbs and neck a good, long stretch. "Hate trains."

"They're the most efficient means of land-based transport," John countered, folding up a map of the Roman capital. "Besides, it's nice to see the scenery while you're in transit. And this place... oh-hohhh, I've always wanted to see MGS up close."

Mercurius Grand Station. The historic Roman Empire of old was famed for many things, and among those was its infrastructure, boasting a network of roads and highways that was unmatched both in its own time and for some time in the future. Likewise, Novaroma prided itself on its railways, connecting the entire empire with efficient pathing and fast passenger trains. At the heart of this point of national pride was Mercurius Grand Station, the largest train station in the world that featured connections for all manner of transportation, save for sea travel. Additionally of note, the station was highly decorated, featuring paintings of the myriad scenery found across Roma's swathes of conquered land or gods and heroes of Roman mythology, architecture that took care to add some artistry into the very walls and ceilings themselves as if the station itself were one giant sculpture, and a large statue of the Roman messenger of the gods, Mercury, coated in gold and placed in the station's main lobby for all arrivals and departures to see. Among architects and fans of architecture alike, there were some who considered Mercurius Grand Station "the Sistine Chapel of train stations."

"You can gawk at it later. We have a job to do first. John, you take Íroas and the new members and make your way to the Triumvirate, the girls and I will see about finding a hotel to stay in while we're in town."

"Yes, sir," John sighed. As Austin and the rest of the team - save for the new additions - left, John turned on his heel, a rebellious glint in his eye as he addressed his group.

"Alright. So. Boss says we gotta meet up with the Triumvirate, and he's not wrong, buuuuuuuuuuuuuut... we're in Rome! The chance to essentially get an all-expenses-paid trip to this city doesn't come along every day. If we happened to get a little distracted along the way, I'm sure he'd understand, as long as we got to that meeting today. There's a lot to see, after all, and I've been studying the layout of the city for the entire week it took to get here."

"I have always wanted to see some of the sights here up close," Sita mused. "But the Triumvirate doesn't feel like a group we should keep on hold..." With a defeated, prolonged groan, Sita finally said "It's gonna bug me if I don't get to it. I'll go find my way to their headquarters and meet any sightseers in the team there."

OOC

Spoiler

Now we can really get into the story of this RP.

Taking this round to give people one more shot at fun character interaction stuff before we hop aboard the plot & action train for a short while, now with a new scenery and something to actually prepare for in the next round. This is one of the biggest cities in the world, as well as the biggest in Novaroma, which if the nation isn't the #1 global superpower, it's a pretty close contender for second place. So if you opt to go sightseeing, or perhaps end up on some other little side adventure, hit me up and we can work something out. Or, if you wanna have a fun moment with another PC, hit them up instead.

As for what's out there? Go wild!

 

Edited December 23, 2023 by yui

[Chaos Sonic 443]

Rome…the City of Seven Hills. Quite the beautiful city, one of many in fact. Not even the Crisis could ruin its beautiful scenery of the ancient civilization's architecture that continued to stand the test of time. For Neal, however, it was an untapped fount of potential things to be stolen… Historical relics, art, even historical records of days past…all of it, ripe for the stealing and taking. The thief lamented, however, that he was here specifically under the watchful eye of this Anti-MIRROR team.

Such a wasted moment… Neal sighed quietly, exiting the train with everyone else. I curse my lucky bag for just opening and spilling it's contents so easily. Nevertheless, he was present (somewhat) as Austin spoke.

"You can gawk at it later. We have a job to do first. John, you take Íroas and the new members and make your way to the Triumvirate, the girls and I will see about finding a hotel to stay in while we're in town."

Neal watched Austin leave, shaking his head slightly. Part of him wished that he would go about this another way. In his mind, he could treat this whole operation like a big heist. Survey the area, know routines and patterns, find the best time to move…profit. Sure they could just go to the Triumvirate and be done with it, but where was the fun? They could easily survey the area on the way and just make sure no MIRROR people were around. Basic stuff really. Regardless, he heard John and Sita start talking.

"Alright. So. Boss says we gotta meet up with the Triumvirate, and he's not wrong, buuuuuuuuuuuuuut... we're in Rome! The chance to essentially get an all-expenses-paid trip to this city doesn't come along every day. If we happened to get a little distracted along the way, I'm sure he'd understand, as long as we got to that meeting today. There's a lot to see, after all, and I've been studying the layout of the city for the entire week it took to get here."
"I have always wanted to see some of the sights here up close. But the Triumvirate doesn't feel like a group we should keep on hold...It's gonna bug me if I don't get to it. I'll go find my way to their headquarters and meet any sightseers in the team there."

Neal saw this as an opportunity, a good one at that. He gave a sly smirk, a quick one to where no one could see it at first. Then, he made his move. "Relax, Sita. Live a little!" Neal waved Sita's concerns off for a bit. "The old saying is, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do', it'd be a crime to just rush into the Triumvirate's presence without enjoying the view." He was telling the truth, in a sense, but part of him did want something more from this. One thing particularly, and it was on his list...here in Rome. "Plenty of museums to learn the rich history of this land...breathtaking scenery...what's not to love?”

"Yeah, I know," Sita sighed. "It just feels weird being here for some kind of official business." The girl took a deep breath, steeled her nerves, and shook it off. "Right, that's not me at all! There's sights to see, and not only have I been here a couple times, but we've also got a local hero in our midst!" Sita enthusiastically gestured toward Íroas at that final mention, and indeed, some folks within the crowds of Mercurius Grand Station started taking notice of the tower of a man within the group.

"That's two guides!"

"Three," John corrected.

"Three guides! I'm sure the Triumvirate's busy with... Triumvirate stuff... so let's hit the town for a bit! Pick a guide and let's roll! I'm more of a "scenic views" type girl than a fan of huge monumental stuff, so if that's your vibe, come with me and let's hit the streets!" With renewed vigor, Sita began marching off away from the group, intent on finding viewpoints around the city that wouldn't look out of place on a painting in some rich man's mansion.

"I was thinking of a quick museum trip, myself," John mused aloud. "Roma's pretty proactive about rounding up anything connected to the historical Roman Empire, and a lot of that history is kept in this very city. Plus, we've got a bit of a museum enthusiast in the team, don't we?" John gave Neal a nudge with his elbow at that, before leaning in to whisper additional words of advice to the crew's criminal. "A newer saying in this city is "Caesar's eyes are everywhere." Officially, I need to tell you not to do anything illegal, but I'm also powerless to stop you, so I'm letting you know that's not just some conspiracy theory. Be careful if you try to steal anything important.”

"Forever the museum enthusiast, can't help that fact whatsoever." Neal gave a chuckle, smiling widely, before leaning in slightly and gave a whisper in response. "Caesar's eyes are everywhere? Thanks for the tip...just makes things more exhilarating for me...but do know this, there's something in this city...and per my wants and desires, I refuse to leave without it." He pretended to stretch and gave another smile, pointing to John. "I think I found my tour guide. John and I will just have a grand ol time!”

Neal may have worn a genuine but excited smile on his face now, but behind it and within his own mind lay the biggest Cheshire Cat grin. One of the biggest scores he could gain on his personal list was here, and a chance to have his name...Arsène Beau's name...propelled into the higher echelon of thiefdom: the spearhead of the Lance of Longinus. He knew this would be a difficult thing to work with, but the chance of a thrill...it made his blood boil with excitement.

[Saikazo 241]

This was it.

He was back home.

It was a strange feeling, walking off the train to the familiar station. Usually, when people leave home and do something like save the president of another country, they feel changed, or fulfilled. Íroas wasn't sure what he felt, but he was pretty sure it was neither of those. 

"You can gawk at it later. We have a job to do first. John, you take Íroas and the new members and make your way to the Triumvirate, the girls and I will see about finding a hotel to stay in while we're in town."

"Alright. So. Boss says we gotta meet up with the Triumvirate, and he's not wrong, buuuuuuuuuuuuuut... we're in Rome! The chance to essentially get an all-expenses-paid trip to this city doesn't come along every day. If we happened to get a little distracted along the way, I'm sure he'd understand, as long as we got to that meeting today. There's a lot to see, after all, and I've been studying the layout of the city for the entire week it took to get here."

Oh yeah, they were tourists, weren't they? American ones too. Oh man, it was gonna get really loud over the next few days. At least they weren't British. That meant they could actually eat the food here. 

"I have always wanted to see some of the sights here up close," Sita mused. "But the Triumvirate doesn't feel like a group we should keep on hold..." With a defeated, prolonged groan, Sita finally said "It's gonna bug me if I don't get to it. I'll go find my way to their headquarters and meet any sightseers in the team there."

Good, a responsible person. Perhaps they could just get this meeting over with. Íroas could feel a pit in his stomach forming just thinking about the meeting. No matter how many times he met with the Triumvirate, he could never get over his nerves.

"Relax, Sita. Live a little!" Neal waved Sita's concerns off for a bit. "The old saying is, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do', it'd be a crime to just rush into the Triumvirate's presence without enjoying the view."

"As a Roman, I like to point out that Romans try to be punctual to their meetings with world leaders." Íroas commented.

"Yeah, I know," Sita sighed. "It just feels weird being here for some kind of official business." The girl took a deep breath, steeled her nerves, and shook it off. "Right, that's not me at all! There's sights to see, and not only have I been here a couple times, but we've also got a local hero in our midst!" Sita enthusiastically gestured toward Íroas. Íroas noticed that the people around them was beginning to notice the group more. Or, more accurately, they were beginning to notice he was there.

It was only a matter of time honestly, but Íroas was hoping for at least ten minutes before it happened. 

"Well, whatever you all decide to do, we should probably do it before---" Íroas never got to even finish his sentence before people began to swarm the group. It was like a ocean wave of people crashing into them. Their voices filled Mercurius Grand Station, turning the place into nothing but a cacophony of noise. Íroas listen closely, trying to make out what everyone said to him. He couldn't make everything out, but among the voices he could make out cries of thanks, pleads for help, and most clearly of all, a cry for him to visit Pepe's Pizza.

"Ayyyyy, it's-a my favorite customah!" Called out a man whose accent was as thick as it was impossible to place. His physique was incredibly round, and the apron he was wearing had a logo embroidered on it that, if one were to further inspect their surroundings, there was a tent in the corner near the front door, with the same logo, with a slapped-together sign in front of it that read "Pepe's Pizza (Temporary Location)". A tent at which the line of customers seemed mildly disgruntled by the man suddenly abandoning his station to meet up with Íroas.

"Íroas, my boyyy, we've got a disasta on our hands, an emergency!"

The crowd grew quiet as the round man approached. Everyone knew the legendary pizza man Pepe. It was said he made the best pizza in Novaroma, which made him the best pizza chief in the world by default. Íroas watched as the sea of people parted to let Pepe get closer to him. 

"What's going on, Pepe sir?" Íroas questioned. 

"There's a second Pepe's Pizza location--"

"Congratulations on the business expansion!" an eager nobody from the crowd called out.

"I'm not done! This-a second location, I did not open it. Nobody knows who did, but everyone eating there, they're not coming back! The police say I'll be responsible if it keeps up, even though I'm not-a connected to the place! I think-a we got some kinda monstah on our hands! You gotta do somethin', my business is on da line!"

"NOT HIS BUSINESS!" A different eager nobody cried out. The crowd's noises changed from a cacophony of noise to a symphony. At the moment, the whole station single-mindedly wished for one thing and one thing alone. 

They all wished for Íroas to save Pepe's Pizza. 

The local hero held up his hands to calm the group down. It took a bit, but they soon calmed down enough for Íroas to be heard without shouting. 

"I have an important meeting with the Triumvirate I have to go to. But I promise, after it, I will look into this... Pepe's Pizza 2." He gave his word. The crowd cheered, all excited to see the day saved. Íroas turned to the rest of anti-MIRROR, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "... Sorry about that." He said apologetically. 

Edited January 9 by Saikazo

[yui 576]

JUNE 17TH, 2030, 5:42 P.M.
LOCATION: ROME, NOVAROMA, TRIUMVIRATE BUILDING

After some three and a half hours, one way or another, the team found themselves at the Triumvirate's headquarters. Located near the center of the city, it was a building easily identified among the other skyscrapers of downtown Rome by its distinct silhouette. The building had a triangular base that reached up for the first three floors, then from that base, a trio of towers shot up from each corner, reaching up to a half-dome at the top of the building. It, along with similarly geometric buildings of downtown Rome, was a stark contrast to the classically-inspired architecture in much of the rest of the city, owing to a different, more futuristic-minded team of architects and engineers being responsible for the downtown area. As the team stepped up to and entered the building, they would find one of their teammates in the lobby, leaning against the reception counter, and eagerly looking toward the door as soon as it opened.

"Finally, you're here!" May exclaimed. "I've been twiddling my thumbs here for like an hour waiting for at least some of you to show up! Come on, I already got us arranged, and I doubt the Triumvirate will be happy we've left them hanging for so long."

After a brief wait further, to get Íroas signed in since his was technically separate business from everyone else's, the team was guided to an elevator that went straight to the top of the building. As the streets of Rome grew further away through the view of the elevator window, the Triumvirate's office grew closer and closer, until at last, the top floor had been reached. This was it. All that remained was a set of doors in front of the team, after navigating the circular hallway around the dome's perimeter. Once that was opened, the Triumvirate's office, as well as its members, were in clear view.

THE TRIUMVIRATE

As the crew stepped into the office of the Triumvirate, it immediately became clear that this office was more of a throne room. The room was large, featuring an oval table with numerous chairs in the middle of the room, and a glass roof to let the sun illuminate the room directly, setting though it was. At measured intervals around the walls of the room, the flag of Novaroma hung proud, often flanked on either side by its vertically-oriented cousin, the national stadard. And of course, against the back wall, atop a quarter-circular set of stairs, were three thrones, the bases and surroundings of which were intricately carved in different fashions.

The left throne was empty, with a slightly altered version of the flag draped over its seat. Its base was carved out of shapes reminiscent of paintings and poems on one side, and firearms, telescopes, and other hallmarks of science on the other. The top of the throne was adorned with the likeness of a torch, carried by two hands that looked like they would have belonged to different people.

The right throne was occupied by a woman whose hair was losing the battle against an enchroaching greyness, but who had otherwise yet to show much sign of aging. Her throne's artistry was a lot less abstract in its symbolism; its base was undoubtedly a mass of people, all lifting each other up toward the common goal of supporting the throne, upon which she sat. The top of the throne resembled a human mouth, its lips parted as if to speak the words of the faceless people at the base.

And then there was the central throne, upon which sat a young man who stared down at his new company with equal parts curiosity and disappointment. The base of his throne was notably a bit taller than the other two, and was carved from depictions of mountains and trees, within which a pair of poles had been inserted, bearing Novaroma's standard. The top of his throne had been made to resemble the sun, its center wreathed by a crown of leaves reminiscent of ancient Rome, this sun-and-crown symbol being in fact the same as was present on Novaroma's flag and standard.

"Thus does the pride of Roma return to us," the man smiled, nodding toward Íroas. "And you've brought the American agents with you, no less! As much as we'd love to have Íroas regale us with stories of his adventures abroad, and hear how the rest of you are finding our city, we have more pressing matters at hand with the Americans. Business that does concern the intelligence we promised your people, make no mistake."

"Even though we're giving out this information for free, the Triumvirate is bound to the letter of our word," the woman explained. "In our letter to your President, we said that the Vox Ingenium had discovered some useful information about MIRROR, and in that same letter, we very specifically stated that the Vox Ingenium would share this information. However..." The woman's eyes turned to the empty throne. "The Vox Ingenium is dead. During our appearance at the centennial anniversary about a week ago, agents of MIRROR attacked us. The Vox Imperium and I are unharmed, but before the assassins could be dealt with, they got one of our number, and cut his life short. As of present, there is no Vox Ingenium, meaning nobody can give you your intelligence, by letter of our word."

"So like, you can't tell us anything?" Sita asked.

"Yes, but do not fear! So wise am I, Leocadius Caesar, that instead of sending you home empty-handed, we think we can arrange a mutually beneficial exchange."

"You say that as if you came up with it all on your own. When a Triumvir dies, replacing them is top priority. In the case of Vox Ingenium, the process is simple: The other two Triumvirs must agree on who will sit upon the throne, and what we hope they can bring to Roma. And not only do we have our candidate, but by good fortune, we have an associate of his as well." Adrienne then gestured to the sole woman who had already been seated at the central table when the team had already arrived. "This is Avis Alba. She should be able to help you track down our target, Doctor Frederick Carson."

The name would have rung familiar to those who studied matters related to psychics. Doctor Carson was generally considered the world's leading expert in nousology, responsible for vastly expanding human understanding of how psychics worked in the last couple of decades. However, he was also infamously unhospitable, turning away guests and media alike, then completely disappearing save for the occasional research publication some years ago.

"Íroas B. Go, you and these American agents are to track down the good Doctor, with Avis's assistance. Find him, and bring him before us, so that we can appoint him Vox Ingenium. In exchange, Carson will, as the new Vox Ingenium, be able to share the information his predecessor had collected and wanted to share. You're all dismissed, and the next time we meet, Carson had best be with you. Now go."

Back down the elevator the team - now one head stronger - was sent. Back through the lobby, and out the front door, where May was leading the way to the hotel Austin had booked for the team.

"Fay just sent me orders from the boss. We head out tomorrow at o'-six-hundred, so be sure to rest up and do whatever else needs doing in town tonight!"

At that mention, John gave Neal a small nudge with his shoulder, and a slight nod.

"Also, he said to tell all of you that if he knew it would take so long for you to meet up with the Triumvirate, he would've done it himself. Between you and me, I think he's just talking a big game and is just as eager to check out the town as anyone else."

OOC

Spoiler

Wrap up any business you've got in Rome, folks. Normally I would have just gotten us on the road and started this adventure proper, but both Neal and Íroas have unfinished business in town, so here's a bonus round to take care of that. Anyone who didn't post last round and wanted to do stuff before the Triumvirate meeting is encouraged to do so via everyone's favorite: Flashbacks. And now you've got a round of fun stuff that can be done after, as well! Don't sweat the small stuff like the linear passage of time too much, mkay? Tomorrow, the gang hits the road! For now, against my better judgment, one more round to do fun miscellaneous stuff.