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Lilian Rook	"I've told you before, Ishirou. A few other girls have too." says Lilian. "What's on the inside is meaningless. What people choose to show is everything.     §That's right~ If even she can do all of that for no reason, you should be able to do a little bit without a good one.§     "That would be the sensible conclusion." Lilian says to Stanley, pacing out into the room. "There's not a chance in hell that these people sprinted right past Sapient Heuristics and the B-- the Concord as a whole, as much as I hate to admit it."     §Don't you think she knows? She already knows everything; isn't that right? She could. And you'd never know. Isn't she not telling you? Ah, but that isn't wrong, is it? It's only natural that they'd think of you as a child, still. But how are you supposed to prove them wrong?§     "Of course we can give chase. Do you think they're getting anywhere like this?" Lilian says to Justin, crouching by the pedestal and closing her eyes slowly. There's no hostility in it, but a certain sort of dread. "Even if this . . . collateral damage of a wish, spared them, it's not as if they can go anywhere."     §What do you think? Have you ever found a place in the world that had space for you? Don't you know what you should be doing already?§          §What do you think? Of course there could be! But even those §world-patients§ had to earn it. Don't you kind of want to rise to their example? Don't you want to earn it, at least a little bit~?§     "I have a feeling that's the point." Lilian murmurs tonelessly to Charlotte.     §Of course. You're still stuck on 'do' or 'do not', aren't you? What to be and what not to be. §I/she/we§ were §decided upon§ since the very start. There's only 'do', and the coin is 'why'.§     Lilian can't quite find her state of trance just yet. Not while Haru's words ring in her ears. Her body subtly tenses, poised on her toes, arms folded over her knees, as she tries to file it away for now, but her own demand to be spoken too insistently. She exhales with an air of reluctance. The stress-can of 'milk', caught a minute ago, deforms to its limit in her hand, then halts with immaculate precision, releasing and squeezing without breaking. "It's helpful advice." she says. "That I'm too . . . to listen to. Leaving may be best, but I can't turn my back on everything ugly and still be 'Lilian Rook'." She sighs, letting her heels touch the ground. "You know, I appreciate that you don't know." Lilian says. "Just hearing 'I'm sorry, it's terrible, I don't know either'-- that sort of feels better than an answer. Too many people have 'answers'. Too few will say you aren't crazy."     §There's a limit to how much you can choose wrong. But that limit is higher than how much you can choose nothing. Don't you think? One will eventually kill you, but one is the same as not existing at all.§     §If only they'd understand that. If only the people who can't bother to exist would just get out of the way. Disappear. Why should someone who can't choose at all get in the way of your choice?§     Lilian is silently focused when Touta goes to Tamamo, but Exigent Serenity isn't. The cold morphine of her giggling is in his ears.     §They'll hunt you down? Shouldn't you try a little more than that? That mindset, §I/she/we§ know it. Everyone else who said that only ruined themselves in the end~ So chin up, Touta~§     §Or you're already beyond helping, aren't you?§
Lilian Rook	"Except me." Lilian repeats after Friz, more under her breath than meant to be heard. "Before and after are concepts I don't like, in that sense. So I've decided to ignore them." She remains silent for exactly as long as it takes Friz to speak to Rogers. By coincidence, probably. §Her§: I don't think I know a single at all about respect, actually~ §Her§: But hearts and names are realer things to me than they are to those people out there. §Her§: So I understand a lot about you in there. §Her§:     Exhaling with some kind of dull satisfaction, having found whatever she sought from the clear pedestal, Lilian waves vaguely in Kukuru's direction and replies in even tones. "I suppose not enough that I'd scold you for it. But most people believe it has a certain connotation. I'm more surprised that you'd choose it because of what it says about you, rather than the motion of you saying it." A quiet jump of her shoulders simulates a fraction of a laugh. "Non-human, though, I understand abandoning. Why accept that human and not are all there is?"     §You're so sweet, Kukuru. That ruthless side of you is wonderful, you know? But putting them on other people is something that's neither quite 'hers' nor 'mine'. Deflecting consequences is something only 'I' would do, and taking them on is only something §'Lilian Rook'§ would do. But making certain they happen to the people who deserve them . . . That's not quite 'hers' or 'mine'. Not yet. §She/thus I§ is about to decide, soon.§     Starting to leave the room, Lilian glances as she turns at Petra, taking interest in one her awkward stuttered stops for once in rare form. "Go ahead, I suppose." she says, narrowing her eyes. "If you'd really like that awful thing. For your . . ." She trails off deliberately, resuming motion away. "If it were such a beautiful thing that you'd crave it, Petra, it wouldn't be here."     §Haha~ Do you understand how she used to feel about you, then? Until you finally went so far, that changed. I'm glad you can think of something, Petra. Because out of all the people here, you're the one who should be §choked and charred§ the most. You know by now, don't you? When you make things worse for yourself, everyone treats you like one of 'them', but when you make things worse for others, they make it worse for you; just like you want. Just like §girls like us§ live to feel.§     Lilian makes a vaguely affirmative noise at Tamamo; the urge to talk to her is audibly mingled with the urge to awkwardly not engage TOuta. "The fact that she'd bother is actually shocking. No matter how I examine it, I can't imagine why she cares about this town at all. I'd think she'd let the detective gang leap into the breach and be ground to mulch, ordinarily." An uneasy noise escapes her for a fraction of a second, when Tamamo ends up mirroring what she'd said to Haru. Worry that she might be rubbing off, perhaps. Or flinching that Tamamo knows that part of her better than she'd thought.     "Yeah. If you're going to hold back because it's 'not you', that's good. If you're going to hold back 'you' because you're scared, then just die, okay? Too empty to live and too ruled by primitive bullshit to be human; we don't need any more of you."
Lilian Rook	Lilian's smoky-raw and disassociatively blissful tones of temporary relief of some great weight last only moments. She blinks stiffly at Tamamo emphasizing the word 'assert', gets out "Hm? Did you find something out?" And then freezes up, hands jumping halfway to Tamamo's shoulders before locking up, and turns bright red on the spot.     Unable to push back, too uncertain to lean in, the exact instant Lilian could burst into flames with all these eyes on her at the 'too long' mark is palpable in the still air. The only warmth in this godforsaken place and it isn't even yours.     §"You're so very welcome, hahaha~"§ Exigent Serenity says. §"You're so insightful when you try; you always get it! So it's very easy to tell you~ Ah, but this one is your last one, okay~? I've already gone too easy for you. And §four§ is a number you should all very well avoid."§     Three is the number of flower buds now in Tamamo's possession.
Stanley Padgett	The overhead lights rattle and shake. The <Mainframe Room/Display Floor> rumbles. What's left of the operating screens all go dark, as the power in the facility suddenly surges, and sets everything all a kilter.     And with a sudden roar someone appears in the middle of the room, where that R E D A C T E D used to be.     A tall man, looking more than a little disheleved. His tweed suit coat is dusty and ratty in places, his once perfectly-coiffed gray hair is messy and unkempt, and his tie is just sort of loose around his neck.     CEO of Graf Industries, Francis Smithering has had a rough few weeks. "YOU. YOU PEOPLE DID THIS." His voice rumbles through the room, and with it a wave of emotions.     A distant roar of busy city markets. The remembered smell of food stalls and old money and animals. Traders can be heard hawking their wares and trading goods, somewhere at the edges of your hearing. Some of you might get that... that itch you get when the paycheck comes in and you feel like burning some of your cash, spend a dime- CASH FOR THE HOGSHEAD, CASK AND THE DEMIJOHN     "THIS WAS ALL GOING SWELL. SWELL I SAY." He grabs for the center console in front of him, pulls it out of its socket on the floor, and throws it up at the viewing room where Stanley watches, judging. It smashes through, and a rush of air fills the space. "You! Your poppa shoulda offed you when he had a goddamn chance."     Smithering looks at everyone else. "You're all here for our SECRETS." you can talk you can talk you can bicker "AND you CAN'T HAVE THEM."     And in a sudden horrible moment, he starts to transform. Sparks and smoke coil around his form, his heavy set build stretching out and sliiiiding upwards, filling the space. The glass that smashed out of the windows swirls around the man's head, forming a crystal globe, filling with orange smoke. His face is gone, replaced with a sudden digital overlay, emojis smashing into a semblance of a rictus grin. you can talk talk talk talk bicker bicker bicker bicker     "GET OUT OF MY FACILITY." A wave psionic energy lashes out, smacking at the room.
Ishirou	'"I've told you before, Ishirou. A few other girls have too." says Lilian. "What's on the inside is meaningless. What people choose to show is everything.' Ishirou pauses, thinking about each of those girls who have told him... in at least some way.  It isn't about what he is on the inside, but what he chooses to let others see.  Being 'good' is meaningless if others can't see it... and if they can't see it... His hand falls on his face, right... right.  If you can't communicate what you are about... if you can't let others see what is in your heart, or what you want others to see...     '§That's right~ If even she can do all of that for no reason, you should be able to do a little bit without a good one.§' 'Right... okay.  I will try.  If not because I want to show others something more to me, than because I should at least try,' he thinks looking at his hand.  Feeling the revulsion of his action again.  She'll crush him, he thinks, knowing Phony won't let this slide but... it's the only way he can become better.  The only way to become whole... That thought was interrupted by a very large consul being thrown through a window and landing.  He looks up toward the source and sees the man seething.  The feelings, the feelings so gross he feels like he needs a shower right then and there well up inside him and he screams.  His hands move to cover himself because it feels /extra/ gross in the form he's in right now. There is a flash, and Ishirou is in the RESCUE gear, but without any of the add-ons.  A black, lightweight armor with a mask that resembles POD.  POD itself, is still floating nearby, as he looks up at it again.  "Deploy OPTIONs," and with that two smaller PODs deploy, hovering by the shoulder of Lilian and Kukuru.  For Lilian, the OPTION will move with her, covering her approaches with rapidly fired blasts of energy.  For Kukuru, it'll help guide her blows, giving her up-to-date telemetry. Ishirou takes the moment to try and find out what he can about the man, trying to prod his weaknesses, his strengths, and just how they might stop his rampage.  He said his /father/ should have killed Stanley..?  That's awful, and Ishirou really is starting to think families that aren't made yourself really are /just fucking awful/.   There is a build-up in POD before a barrage of micro missiles are fired, aiming to take advantage of his recently scanned shadow and pepper him with explosions.
Angela	Right now it's killing a Wing Leader. Justin Rook thinks back, swinging up the hammer as he nods to Lilian. "Just following your lead ma'am." This isn't really an answer to the the question but in the thick of things is where Justin Rook is most at peace. He said as much that on the job is where he feels his place is--and if that's the case, people like him never get back home. past that ... What do you think? Justin Rook starts to move only for someone to appear in the middle of the room. Justin Rook's gear provides pretty good resilience to being horrified and he swings his large skull-headed mace over his shoulder, tapping it lightly. The Jesus-skull looks at Francis Smithering, as if it had opinions on the odds of camels passing through the eye of a needle and the like. He says, "Normally going against a guy like you is suicide." Justin Rook says. "And a Wing War is suicide, but you're turnin' into some kinda smoke monster so you'll be easy enough to disavow, huh?" The psionic power slams into him, blood spurts out of Rook's noise and he finally smiles. "No Fixers, no Agents, no paperwork, no Syndicates... Just you and those you hurt..." He slams his mace towards Smithering's crystal globed head with the level of ease that suggests he's got some aggression of his own to work out against an unfair capitalist nightmare. Angela meanwhile is just...curious at the transformation. "Is that how he truly sees himself? No, what he truly is?" She asks, like he isn't in the room. "No, we should run analysis from the facility. Keep me steady, Rook." A faint scan emits from the tablet but it isn't just looking for anything or everything--she is trying to see if this transformation patterns towards EGO Corrosion--and to get a small view into his past, or some manner of representative story.
Kukuru	"Yeah... I've heard people use it that way before, too." Kukuru's expression drops slightly as she says that, even her sieve-like memory still managing to retain the occasional painful memory. There's a bit of confusion after that, and it would take her a long time to try and figure out what Lilian meant if not for noticing that smallest of maybe-laughs. It gets a pleasant smile from her, and she nods after letting that mental image of the fraction roll around in her head a bit longer. "That's right. It'd be just like saying non-skeleton, or non-dullahan, or non..." "... It's way too long to say. Monster is shorter." That praise coming into the back of her mind certainly helps raise her spirits as well, and the fact that it's about something that's started to make more sense to Kukuru makes it even sweeter to hear. Giggling softly, she continues following along with the group while continuing to let her mind wander, still thinking hard about how else I could help you two. I don't have any good answers now, but please let me know when you do. Even if you're not in the Concord... We're greedy like that. And you helped teach me to be like this, so you should take responsibility~ Her mood's been lifted so much, even, that the shaking of the facility doesn't even register to Kukuru at first. She just assumes it's part of the general weirdness surrounding everyone, but the roaring sound snaps her back to reality, and she comes face to face with... Someone! An angry someone, to be certain, and the way he speaks makes it clearer who he is by the time he starts transforming. "Oh... You're the one that started all this, aren't you?" Kukuru asks in a far less pleasant tone than she had just a little while ago, claws already pulled out of wherever it is they're stored when she's not using them and slid over each hand. "I don't care about your secrets if it's not something that'll help my family. I just know you're hurting them, so..." Before she can come up with something else to say, the psionic waves are already blasting around the room, and Kukuru does what little bracing she can to defend against it. It's not the sort of thing her physical strength can defend her from, but... As easy as it is to peer into her mind, it's just as hard to actually penetrate into it with such attacks. She can feel the pulsing and the onset of a dull pain in her head, but Kukuru is still bracing for several seconds after the waves clear past her, as though she's waiting for something bigger. Her impatience gets the better of her, and after spreading her healing nanites around to counteract some of that, she goes right on the offensive! Instead of teleporting, though, Kukuru walks forward. She's advancing slowly and steadily, conserving her stamina for the time being while making sure her claws are on right, and presenting herself as some kind of slowly threatening entity. Would he risk focusing more fire on her, on putting forward effort to avoid her, or something entirely different? "... So if you're not gonna stop, you're gonna die. You still have a chance to stop." Should she actually/finally reach the transformed Smithering, Kukuru rears back, then swings an open claw forward at the glassy digital figure with the guidance from Ishirou's OPTION. Once again, it's a slow attack, but the steady movement suggests that it could very well go through whoever she's swinging at, especially with data beamed into her head to tell her where and how to swing to really tear something out of him.
Charlotte Newman	Charlotte had committed to what she felt was the right and correct choice; to smash everything in this server room to pieces and ruin what NovaTech was doing at its very core. Only to be driven out of that course by everyone else. For all the criticism about lacking agency, they sure don't like it when I take initiative.     She glances down at the bat in her hand, the frown on her face deepening. Her grip tightens. Every time I try to understand what you're telling me I just mess it up. So what is it you actually want? What am I doing wrong?     Combined with the overtly hostile environment, it's growing increasingly frustrating to try and understand what Exigent Serenity is telling her only to be told again and again that she didn't understand them at all. Her eyes close, a low exhale escaping with some of her tension-- but nowhere near all of it.     Her thoughts are interrupted by the furious and somehow still incredibly slimey shouting of Francis Smithering. It's enough of a jolt that she flinches, given how relatively low-key everyone had been keeping their voices up 'til now. Galatea, already deployed, intercepts the psionic wave with a barrier of light while Charlotte crouches behind it, the edges cracking and breaking off.     She recovers with a straightened posture, pushing loose hair back over her ear as she turns to face Smithering's Shadow self, "How long have you known we were here?" No sense volunteering any information... but if we get him talking he might drop something useful without meaning to.     As Galatea drops the shield, the Persona swings her cannon arm forward. Charlotte lifts her bat to her shoulder, drawing her free hand to her face, "Galatea... Agidyne!"     Galatea's cannon report is a sharp crack, hurling a bright red sphere in a parabolic arc. It doesn't aim for Smithering directly but rather intends to explode immediately above him, blasting a cone of flame straight down on top of him.     Shifting back to a readied position, Charlotte shoots a glance at the observation room that Smithering had smashed.     Please tell me you're OK..!
Petra Soroka	Petra's thoughts burble with vague, unvoiced discomfort at Exigent Serenity's implication that she shouldn't try to make things worse for herself, even though she agrees with the premise. Associations with intentional self-harm and receiving pity for it; not quite being certain where the lines lie between wanting to be hurt and wanting to coax others into seeing her as someone to hurt. In the end though, it doesn't matter. Like she said to Lilian before, she knows the best method to being hurt that way falls in line which what she already wants to do.     ... Which is kind of ironic, really. Helping Lilian and hurting them just for fun is, like, the easiest thing ever for me. It sort of feels wrong that it's also the *best* thing for me. With Lilian's permission given vis a vis the wishgranting tech, Petra inspects it and looks to Angela about the data collection while letting tinkling shards of unfiltered thoughts continue her conversation with Exigent Serenity. "Could you send it to me as, like, a file afterwards, Angela? Or... printed... hmm."     Exigent Serenity's uniquely-free observation over Petra's mental processes sort of feels like watching a child fumbling around with blocks, the process of holding on to slippery feelings in her mind and trying to stack them into thoughts clumsily but endlessly determined. For good or ill, the ability to see her heart directly means that the feelings are communicated regardless of whether Petra can put words to them. That her instinctive pushback against the perfect synergy between what she wants to do and what she ansi(159,*should*)] do is still a vestigial need to 'earn' being one of the girls rather than simply 'being' one. It really is a relief to just *do* something to them, though.     Petra is exceedingly jealous that Tamamo has three lilies already. That jealousy is in no small part exacerbated by Exigent Serenity remarking that she *understands* too-- but a brief mental exercise stabilizes her off of that spiral of thought, oddly also fizzling her thoughts out of Exigent Serenity's perception for a bit. Petra will just perform tasks and get lilies to so that she can show how useful she is and how she's so good at listening too.     And then Mr. Capitalism appears! Petra blinks at him in confusion, already wholly forgotten about how Lampport and Novatech are important to this operation, rather than just Lilian, Exigent Serenity, and the wish making machine. Thoughts of capitalism splash against her harmlessly, both because of psychic shielding, and because she's actually pretty psyched about her job in a dystopian corporate hellhole, because it lets het spend time with her friends.     "Who the fuck are you?" Petra says indignantly, at the CEO of the company she's breaking into. "I can have your fucking secrets! I want them more than you. I mean, I didn't even give a shit about them when we got here, but I want them now."     The glowing blue heart on Petra's EGO gear pulses a little faster, her own heart rate picking up. She pulls Pillar of Creation off her back, swinging it overhead to swipe the blade at the transformed CEO, and then flurries a series of jabs at his core. Staying a little further back and prodding at openings with the extent of her reach is both tactically sound and gives her a wide enough view of the fight that she won't miss whatever Lilian does, which is something she's always looking for out of the corner of her eyes.     A little late, she realizes something, and blurts out angrily at the Tyrant. "Hey! Wait! Where'd that machine go! I was going to take that!"
Lilian Rook	'YOU. YOU PEOPLE DID THIS.'     Lilian's startlement at the screaming and rumbling and the thunderous tidal crash of emotional ephemera is both unusually present, for having been so tied up in the shocking moment prior to be warily forewarned of it, and unusually subdued, limited to a heel lift and eye-widening blink at the disturbance. Still red in the face (albeit fading quite quickly by the second), Lilian coughs, rubs her face, shakes her head, and starts stepping forward with a bit of a glower in her stride. "Don't give them so much credit." she says. "I did this. And the fact that your setup is completely inferior to just one girl is your issue, not mine. Now--"     'THIS WAS ALL GOING SWELL. SWELL I SAY.'     Lilian hesitates, posture stiffening in realization. Rapid blinks, mouth half-open, she takes in a sharp breath, and gasps,     "Who are you, actually?"     For a moment, it even looks like she might talk to him. Like the furious CEO breaking in on the gathering and intruding on their important work is simply one more for the pile; a thorny inevitability she will approach as another irritating, undesirable, barely reasonable human being, to discuss the matter at hand with and potentially extort over the barrel of frozen time. However--     'You! Your poppa shoulda offed you when he had a goddamn chance.'     Lilian's breath hitches, and what she was about to say screeches to short-stop and swerves disastrously into a voice of drippingly sinful self-allowace. "Off yourself you noxious fuck."     Lilian vanishes behind one of the server banks with a whirling sidestep a little too quick to be reactive. The wave of force blasts right past, shattering metal and glass dangerously nearby, and she twirls back out the other side, three circle steps bringing her to face with Smitterling; Winter Crow already drawn while she was out of view for an instant.     Lilian stands and fires in sidelong duelist profile. The OPTION joins in with supporting beams. One, two three, four five six, seven, eight nine shots come out in quickly staggered succession. Each one spits gleaming gold flash-fused casings high up into the air in glittering tumbles, the black-gold light of the circle-array muzzle flash smearing light from each. Taking a vague guess, Lilian fires each shot as tin and thorium slivers, streaking plasma particles through the air and burning up into coruscating tendrils of skyborne lightning that leap from bank to cable to Smithering and to the floor through his body.
Tamamo	'No matter how I examine it, I can't imagine why she cares about this town at all.'     "Is it not merely that 'it happened to be here'? There is something special here, and yet... it is not that this place is special to those outside it, apart from this." Tamamo answers Lilian without being particularly clear.     §And §four§ is a number you should all very well avoid.§     "Of course," Tamamo says, as if it were the most natural and expected thing in the world, to be taken with full seriousness but without question.     Her grasp on Lilian lingers, until Smithering interrupts. Tamamo raises a hand to shield her face from the show of violence, though the physical portion isn't directed at her. "Pardon...? Just what might...?"     She has no specific defenses prepared against a psychic assault. There are contingencies, but her strongest remedies are just that -- curatives for those afflicted, rather than a means to prevent any assault from first paining her. It'd be so much easier for her to deal with these sorts of people, otherwise. As is, she has to suffer some amount of uninvited visions and feelings, bizarrely unpleasant and itching, before her fingers work like she's rapidly progressing a cat's cradle, and that initial wave cuts out in scattered diffusion against her.     "I suppose I would need first know what secrets you claimed to be yours, should I wish to disavow interest in them. That is quite the conundrum, is it not?" Just a single note of irritation makes it into her voice, owing to the timing of the interruption more than anything. It's less apparent in her wording, taken on its own. "I think it would be best for you to allow us to continue our work, that the present situation might be resolved more swiftly."     She takes several steps back while drawing a stack of talismans in the same motion, glances to either side, and then launches the seemingly heavy strips of paper two at a time with a flicking motion toward the edges of each of the four entrances of the room. Until someone (who hadn't arrived with Tamamo) tries to pass through any of those portals, they won't do anything. The traps are triggered by 'an attempt to pass through,' unleashing a slowing curse. This may complicate both escape and reinforcements.     "I understand you wish for some other arrangement, but your own position is... inadequate to demand ideal conditions, is it not? Please be realistic in your requests."
Touta Konoe	"There are times, Konoe-san, that you might be best served by backing away, and keeping only to your own business, where a show of your sincere feelings is not enough to earn another's trust. There are other times in which you should put yourself forward, and take the risk of making a mistake. Your core being compels you to do so, does it not? You hesitate because you seek the wisdom of discernment, yet the fact of 'risk' remains. I cannot say which situation this shall be, for you." TWith words uttered with such care, and sympathy, it makes sense that the owner of these warm words would be the Avatar of Amaterasu. It brings a moment of calm that couldn't be harnessed in this world of staring eyes. Though, the moment is cut short as he feels that quiet focus upon him from Lilian. There is that sensation of worry, of doubt, that something had been ruined. As if there was already a target on his back.      §They'll hunt you down? Shouldn't you try a little more than that? That mindset, §I/she/we§ know it. Everyone else who said that only ruined themselves in the end~ So chin up, Touta~§     §Or you're already beyond helping, aren't you?§     He can't find words to utter back. At this moment he can't think of trying more than that? To stay out of this mindset. Because he's seen the cost of these risks pan out so already. He really doesn't know what can save him? But maybe that's just what the feeling of this cool morphine-like numbing can help with. It might wash away that sun-like warmth he had but moments ago but at the same time...To just silently go under... So he didn't have to think about it anymore, that seemed fine too, right?     "Yeah. If you're going to hold back because it's 'not you', that's good. If you're going to hold back 'you' because you're scared, then just die, okay?"     "...Excuse me?" It's something that stings, that sears like the words before. It's something that's too grinding to be numbed by the drug. But...It's something he can feel.      "Too empty to live and too ruled by primitive bullshit to be human; we don't need any more of you."
Touta Konoe	He looks like for a moment he really is about to bite her head off with some words, finally looking like he'd be in theme for a vampire as he did so and yet, as he goes to speak he can just find Lilian literally just Lilian getting caught up into Tamamo's pace of all things. Maybe, it's for Tamamo, maybe it's just entertaining to see Lilian seem like an actually flustered person does he cool down...     As the flustering stopped, as the kiss interrupted, he'd just say the words while her head might still be left spinning a tad. "Ya know...If we're gonna talk about what we do and don't remember, you advertising for people to try and take the easy way out doesn't ring a bell. Anyway..." He couldn't take such an easy way out even if he wanted to. He can't attest to why he holds back in this moment. If it's for the former or latter. If he's living hollow, too primitively, whether he's making himself one of the many that falls into the trap. Though at the same time... He knows one thing that he finds himself muttering under his breath. Something familiar. Something he wanted for someone else even now... "I don't want to anyone to live thinking they don't deserve to..."     It's only then does he find himself finally finding strength to walk through with the others. Maybe not strength, but even an unsure drive was still drive enough.,      "You! Your poppa shoulda offed you when he had a goddamn chance."     As lights rattled, and things went to chaos, even as unsure as everything was at this point. As caution had driven him forward thus far. There's that stinging sensation again. The kind that forces you to grit your teeth, to tense your firsts. It's only as he finally shouts out does he finally feel /good/. As he lets all this steam ease out in the shape of black fog that attempts to envelope the room entirely. It's not like it mattered anymore right? They were already found. Actually, it never mattered that much from the beginning right? So this was right. This was overdue...     Touta just fades into dust as it appears that psionic wave hits. His presence erased...Where even all those glares and stares can't find him. No...It's less than that. It's just that his presence feels bigger now. More enveloping, like the fog that envelops the room.      "You don't know the first thing about dying, so SO SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!"     From right above that crystal-globe like head, the fog slowly condenses its form into that familiar face. A pissed off and irritated expression coming down with a blade in his hands. He swings with a force that if not intercepted seemed to be carrying enough weight behind it that even the floor where they stood felt like it might not be able to support the weight as it craters in.
Stanley Padgett	Smithering really should have expected this. And he did. As the attacks coil in, smoke billows up and around the Tyrant's frame. What's left of the CEO starts to crisp and burn away with each effort to stop the damage from coming in, and those with senses to catch it can feel the man's already fragile psyche fraying even further with each swish of shadow, each coiling smoky parry and swat.     Each of the swats, each of the slices, all of them, the fire, the lightning bullets, the Jesus Onna Stick, none of it is finding purchase, it's all just sliding off this fucko's shadow-shroud like water off a goose's back.     "NO." It's unclear exactly who Smithering is saying this too, but it seems to be a general 'NO' of sheer defiance. "You all shut the hell up, that fucking kid's been a thorn in our side since DAY ONE." The aqua emoji inside the fishbowl head screw into a sneering grimace. "All that fucking time, he wanted the kid gloves treatment. The SCHOOL. The POLICE. That fucking AMBUSH AT THE PIZZA PLACE." Smithering leans over, looking specifically at Charlotte. "And you, tootz, I should have left you in that fucking bus. You and your fucking big nosed hack of a boss."     Too many arms, too many hands, slip out of the Tyrant's form, pointing around the room in a grim halo of limbs. "The fuck is this kid to all of you extraversals anyways? He's a nobody. A loser. A sadsack little theatre nerd. Delusions of bein' a hero." The tyrant rises up again, and- Actually, Ishirou's right. Smithering hasn't moved an inch since he transformed. He's still right there in the middle of the room, where THE DEVICE must have been.     From all around the room, every single screen, every pane of glass, every digital readout or tablet or phone, all of them... start to crawl blocky, angular Shadows. They've got dog-like frames, no jaws, nothing to bite or claw... but they're mounted with loudspeakers, or cash registers, or tabulators. Adding machines. A scrolling never ending list of sales figures, animated and ambulatory, all of them starting to spew...         HOT SHOPPING IN YOUR AREA!         CLICK NOW FOR FANTASTIC OFFERS         DEALS MY FRIEND! FANTASTIC BARGAINS!         BUY BUY BUY NOW NOW NOW         SPEND A GRAND TO MAKE TEN GRAND!     The DEALS are SO HOT you'll BURN     The only good news here is that Tamamo's curse-wards seem to be keeping the little bastards cooped up in this room.     Stanley peels himself out of the wreckage of the Meeting Room, sucks in a breath. And in an instant, he's smashed into the Tyrant, his sword point sunk into the shadows surrounding Smithering's helmet. "You shut the fuck up about my dad and you shut the fuck up about ME." The rapier quivers, sinking for a moment or two, before shadows coil up around the tip and toss him and his sword into the nearest server stack.
Ishirou	The literal FIRE SALE of ADs and Shadows comes out, but thanks to his warning Tamamo has managed to trap them in this room.  That's good, the problem is then they only have to fire those ADs at /them/.  A burning sound hits Ishirou, causing toku-esc sparks to catch him... but he's fast enough that it's only glancing fire that gets him.  It melts some of the ablative armor he has set up, protecting his vital bits underneath.   They have to kill these things quickly before they try to escape and hurt everything and everyone around them.  More scans fall on the man, trying to predict his next movements, but the Shadows are also analyzed.  Thankfully, all of the glass that was shattered from the skylight above is still on the floor.  Ishirou realizes this as he braces himself on the ground... He has a plan.   Charlotte gets an OPTION that flies towards her, providing her targeting data much like Kukuru before.  It tries to predict the large monster-man, trying to kill them all, allowing her to place her shots more carefully.  True to his word, he also supports Petra.  The two might not like each other, but they both love Lilian, and if anything were to happen to the people trapped it wouldn't be good for her. Another option flies to her, much like Charlotte's provides her targeting data, but /also/ provides a large amount of bonus firepower that fires when she attacks, aiming to enhance her own shots with Ishirou's own.  More than that, data streams in, revealing all of the weaknesses, limits, and build of the shadows for Petra... Then, Ishirou grabs every piece of glass with his electromagnetics, and spins them around himself, aiming to drive the sharp glass into as many of the Shadows as he can, trying to keep their numbers down so that the others can do their job.
Charlotte Newman	The more Smithering talks, the more tense Charlotte gets, baring her teeth just a bit with monsters spilling out of screens around her.     "And you, tootz, I should have left you in that fucking bus. You and your fucking big nosed hack of a boss."     She starts in place, a jolt and a flash to the hazy memory of the Bachlaureate incident. Further back to her miserable, gut-wrenching experience in the Velvet Room. She so clearly remembers how Wrong it felt to even be there, and how unbearable it became when Igor read her fortune in the cards. Even with Stanley and Kukuru there for support, she had to leave that place before she threw up.     And wasn't there already a woman there? Helping him? Delilah... That's right. That was her name.     These jolted, wandering thoughts have her distracted when the Shadows emerge. She is soon bombarded with their advertisements, caught off-guard with a wordless objection of a shout. It takes a moment for her Persona to intervene, shielding the girl with her metal body while Charlotte quickly pats out the flames catching on her outfit. This has, at least, brought her back to herself as she lifts her gaze to Smithering.          "I don't know what you're talking about..." Charlotte finally gets out in a low tone, "But if you know something..!"     "Heat Riser!"     Galatea swings her cannon straight down, firing a bright red shot directly into the floor at Charlotte's feet. Expanding into a ring, this surrounds her in a burst of crimson light that gathers on her bat, adding a glow to it that highlights all the stickers stuck to it. Already, the girl's in motion, sweeping her weapon down to the right and bracing it with both hands.     "I'll BEAT answers out of you if I have to!"     Charlotte plants her left foot forward, balancing her weight on the right. Following prompts provided by Ishirou's Option, her grip tightens, then sweeps the bat in a perfect upward arc straight for Smithering's globe-shaped head. One could almost see her posture reflected on a sports magazine cover, right up to the way the end of the swing results in the bat only being in one hand.
Kukuru	Smithering can't move, can he? That makes Kukuru's job considerably easier, since not having to chase someone down means she can leverage both her area healing prowess and her physical might all at once! Or she should be able to, at least, except for how he seems to just be too immaterial to hit properly. Despite that setback, however, she can hear the madness seeping through his tone and his behavior. The more he bellow and shrieks, the more she finds his entire everything that much more off-putting. "Stanley? Charlie? You just said iiit... They're kids." Kukuru's voice starts becoming audibly agitated as she steps back briefly to recollect herself and glance around when the approaching signals are brought up over the radio. With that advance warning, she still doesn't have the reflexes to react properly to the blocky Shadows coming out of the woodwork towards the group, but she has time to start prepping those healing nanites ahead of time. The auditory blast of bullshit has her staggering again, and there's a brief trickle of blood that comes down from around her head-drills, but even that trickle stops entirely as the healing nanites overpower the damage from the sheer noise hitting her. Once she feels the trickle stop, the nanites blast outwards, funneling almost directly into Justin Rook and Charlotte to give them tidy a little boost in strength and endurance! "They should be focused on studying. Going to dances. Figuring out what they wanna do for a living, going to movies, having play dates with their friends, having fun with their after school clubs." Clenching her claws into a steel-grinding fist, Kukuru steps towards the Tyrant's smoking frame again, actually breaking into a faster powerwalking speed to make the threat to whatever he's hiding in his form more apparent. "They shouldn't be involved in this kind of mess. They should only be thinking about pretending to be heroes, not really having to act like them!" The claw comes up, and it comes right back down. Unlike her swing earlier, however, Kukuru isn't content with just swinging it through Smithering's form while avoiding damage to the building. This time, she's aiming to just plow right through him, the ground beneath him, and a few feet behind him with that pulverizing swing for good measure.
Angela	Angela pinches the bridge of her nose like all these ads are causing her physical pain which they might very well be. She has to deal with and perpetuate her own company's bullshit and she doesn't really want to add a second company's into her lexicon. She frowns as she goes through the files. "Hold on..." She mutters. "These readings... It is not precisely the same but the architecture..." She is so preoccupied by this that she neglects to smirk encouragingly when Lilian brags but rest assured, she is thinking positive vibes towards Lilian's boast. Justin Rook frowns as he's not able to clobber the CEO of PAIN, even with a Jesus. He steps back for a moment, considering another route. While this is going, Smithering gives a quick summary of the bullshit this company put teenagers through. "''tootz''..." He mutters in disbelief. ''The fuck is this kid to all of you extraversals anyway?'' "He's nobody in particular. Hell, the first and only time he showed up at the facility he nearly destroyed us all and--" He pauses, for a moment actually unsure why they ARE here. Altruism? That doesn't sound right. He looks towards the Angelapad. "People shouldn't be frozen forever, Justin." Angela says, annoyed. Justin doesn't buy it. "Okay, I guess it is altruism." He say,s though, before... Well, he can start smashing SCREENS at least which will hopefully keep the Shadow influence from increasing. If he can't beat up a CEO, he'll trash their shit instead. "Petra, they are draining the desire of the City's denizens in order to fuel a singular ''thing' that they believe will give them one ...greater wish. A biggest wish. I can only imagine what that could be, but the architecture is similar to the Seed of Light Process." Angela says. "I am still going through the files but that seems to be the summary of the matter."
Tamamo	There are two problems with leaving containment up to the traps Tamamo just laid down. The first is that they'll only slow an intruder or escapee, rather than halt them entirely. This will make them easy for someone else to attack, at the least. The second is that the curses will all be expended if Witherings releases his minions in waves. Whether he actually will do such a thing, she isn't sure, but she's bought enough time for someone else to do something about it while she refocuses her efforts.     The attacks coming in from every direction are, with her defenses up, more of a thousand annoyances than something immediately deadly to Tamamo. There's no cover to speak of, and her tall ears can only flatten against her head rather than block out the sound entirely. But for now, with Kukuru and Ishirou supporting and her own healing supplies still largely full, she can take at least a few seconds to do something else.     Really, she'd prefer to be talking to Exigent Serenity right now... even if she shouldn't take a fourth flower. There's so much she'd like to do or say, between the (three?) two of them. She'd like to be staying close to Lilian, and sharing her warmth. She'd rather be continuing her conversation with Touta, for that matter, than listening to the overlapping advertisements for nothing at all. An attack in the form of familiar noise, accompanied only by as much direction as a blustering man angry at some children for having done... what? Some attempts at heroism, she gathers.     Focused, Tamamo reaches down beneath the visible world, her fingers again moving as if to rearrange the threads, before one hand slips down to follow a knot tied elsewhere. The threads of Fate can show her the important relationships between people, but these are complex. It's far simpler to narrow her view to a particular relationship of a particular sort -- the specific, transformative event in which Lilian Rook brings down Francis Withering. One of many possible futures in the chaotic tangle of a battlefield's present, it's with practiced skill, if not with ease, that Tamamo traces and rearranges the threads to strengthen that particular line. She doesn't consciously think about what other events will have to change to make that future happen, the vagaries of 'luck' that allow 'fate' to occur, but they'll happen as they're meant to. They'll happen as she means them to.     Drawing another talisman with a sharp gesture, Tamamo rips it in half, a brief shower of orange sparks accompanying the release of concentrated financial misfortune. 'For my business to succeed' is a usual prayer. It's a matter of course that a deity like her, even as a bunrei, can effect the opposite.
Petra Soroka	"Off yourself you noxious fuck."     It takes Lilian's reaction to Smithering's words to jumpstart Petra's brain into actually being mad at the guy himself, rather than blandly annoyed at his existence. "Yeah! What the fuck! That's not okay to say, even to Padgett!"     Petra holds her spear loosely vertically, pausing in both gesticulation and combat while checking her subconscious to make sure she's telling the truth. "I don't even think *I* would say that to him!" Character growth! "The fuck is this kid to all of you extraversals anyways? He's a nobody. A loser. A sadsack little theatre nerd. Delusions of bein' a hero."     "Well yeah, sure." Petra isn't going to defiantly leap to Stanley's defense even under the best circumstances. The bar she set for herself is just that she wouldn't say that his father shouldn't have murdered him-- and even that, really, is more for the fact that it's a 'father' rather than Stanley himself. She'd tell Stanley to kill himself in a heartbeat if he bothered Lilian again. "He's a desperately needy normie with no sincere beliefs other than wanting people to like him."     Petra breaks off from insulting Stanley for a moment to mutter 'ew' at the extra arms, extending out her spear in a wide arc to slash through a clump of them, and letting go with her other hand to pull her EGO trenchcoat up as a makeshift shield against others. "Who gives a shit, though. Is *anyone* here for him? I'm here for Lilian, probably most of the rest are here to get all of Lampport moving again... why do you even think we're here for Padgett? What are you blabbering about? Fucking retard makes a monologue and doesn't even get the point of what's happening." <J-IC-Scene> Ishirou says, "Updating the signals to the HUD..." <J-IC-Scene> Ishirou it's a /lot/ of shadows. <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says, "Wait, he's going to send shadows after the frozen employees?" <J-IC-Scene> Ishirou says, "I think he's going to send them thrashing and destroying everything around him." <J-IC-Scene> Ishirou says, "So..." <J-IC-Scene> Ishirou says, "I guess yes." <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says, extremely uncharacteristically, "I'll make sure the employees don't get killed." <J-IC-Scene> Kukuru says, "And if any of them do... Don't worry too much about it. I can fix it." <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says to Kukuru, without explanation, "No."
Petra Soroka	The Shadows begin posting, but Petra is on a mission. Single-minded determination towards completing her task allows her to ignore popup ads when torrenting certain things, and it serves her just as well now, only squinting at the Option's display while shoving her way through the blaring Shadows.     Petra hesitates at the threshold of Tamamo's curse charms at the doorway, doubting for a moment that she'd be exempt from them herself. It would be kind of mean and kind of funny if Tamamo had specifically lumped her in with the enemies, waiting for her to step in and get cursed so she'd have to get hurt a lot more while fighting the Shadows, knowing that Petra wouldn't have any place to complain about it. Petra can imagine, briefly forgetting that the workings of her mind are currently laid bare for Exigent Serenity, Tamamo's faux-concerned reaction after Petra steps through the door and gets gutted by the curse, desperately trying to fend off the monsters while debilitated. She'd be like, "Ah, my apologies for not sufficiently distinguishing you from the beasts we fight, Ms. Soroka. As I am occupied with aiding my Lilian, would you persist in defending the corridor until I may deign to spare you attention for a cure?", and then she would just leave Petra to be afflicted with that horrible drained feeling she had before, making Petra fight twice as hard just to--     Petra presses her hand into her cheek to rub away the rising blush, shaking her head and stepping through the doorway to blockcade it. With her revolver drawn in one hand and her spear leveled to skewer any of the Shadows that get caught in the slowing trap, Petra picks off every one of them that tries to escape the room. It wouldn't be the end of the world if the employees got hurt, for Petra-- but she's absolutely not letting any of them get killed.
Tamamo	'The fuck is this kid to all of you extraversals anyways?'     "Do you believe this all for his sake? This seems more your own fixation, does it not? Perhaps it has escaped your notice the breadth of those affected by the actions that here take place." Tamamo doesn't have much connection to Stanley or Charlotte, though she knows Lilian had some feelings about... no, they're not 'child soldiers' if they're doing it on their own, are they? Child heroes. Child vigilantes of justice. Child adventurers -- hmm, no, that one seems rude. Surely they're taking it more seriously than that.     "Of course, I cannot just how far-reaching those consequences may be, without knowing those secrets that you guard. It does seem to be that you, and those with you, have drawn in more and more trouble than that for which they had bargained."
Lilian Rook	'You all shut the hell up'     "Don't presume to make demands of me, Extra."     Winter Crow splits down the underbarrel with a flick of Lilian's wrist, venting glittering aether for a second, before being snapped back together and flipped back into its holster.     "What impressive lunacy, to think you can break into my world, make a mess of everything, and still talk to me like that."     If that doesn't work, then . . .     'All that fucking time, he wanted the kid gloves treatment. The SCHOOL. The POLICE. That fucking AMBUSH AT THE PIZZA PLACE. He's a nobody. A loser. A sadsack little theatre nerd. Delusions of bein' a hero.'     "God. Do you think I actually don't know?" hisses Lilian. In the midst of the electomagnetic and literally fiery hot maelstrom, she starts stalking forward on the heels she arrived in. "I've been so patient with this. I've been so kind about people crawling all over the border of what's mine. You know?" Where minions are being herded, Lilian walks straight ahead. Where they're being blocked by her allies, by Tamamo's wards, by the OPTIONS, she pays them zero heed. Where flames and wires blast through her space, she fizzle-steps forward several paces; it's like attacking a hologram.     "And my reward for all of that patience, all that care, is this. You. Again. Like every single other time, the wages of tolerance are violation." Lilian's fingers curl by her side until her knuckles crack. Her right hand grabs Night Mit's pendant around her throat. "You're fouling up everything, on your shitty little whim, without a care for whose doorstep this is, and you couldn't even figure this out on your own? Unbelievable. Unacceptable."     'The fuck is this kid to all of you extraversals anyways?'     Closing in dangerously, there's a moment where Lilian's right hand twitches at her breast, ready to tear the sword free and enact hideous bloody violence. The twitch passes along with the moment, and she steps too close to use a blade of that size. Her left hand comes up. Glassy black and dusty gold motes of matter-light coalesce into ribbons and wind the Lady in Black's armour from her fingertips to her elbow.     "First Code, you fucking cretin. Thou art responsible to thy blood first above all else, both the blood of thy line, and the blood shed for thee. How is this still so hard for you 'people' to grasp?"     Lilian drops her hand from Night Mist to reach out and grab the Tyrant. Her left arm cocks back, fingers clenched.     "I don't give a shit who you think deserves what; this-- he is my responsibility. And for all of this, you're about to stop being my fucking concern."
Lilian Rook	Lilian looks poised to plunge hands through the shadowstuff, grip the Tyrant by some sort of collar, and start laying into his face with her fist, enabled in her simple, direct, just barely controlled anger, by the allies all around her, working so hard to create that bubble of impunity.     Then the armour around her trembling fist unravels at its seams and bursts into empty space. Spiked smears of disassembled blackness vanish into infinitely small points and invert in a moment of not-quite-redshift of the server lab.     Seamlessly aligned with the moment Lilian swings her fist at the Tyrant's head, her hair blows past her face from behind in the wake of a vastly larger shadow, and the hand she really wanted-- just the right size to pick a CEO up and crush him, all solid nothing and airgapped golden absence-of-joints-- impacts the Tyrant with sufficient speed and force of will to clumsily drive it through the basement foundations from here.
Touta Konoe	The attack he gives, as good as it feels to just get it all out...Has no give. The sensation of cutting through butter has more resistance than follows, but it's certainly not as tasty. If anything it leaves this feeling to fill this void, while expelling this negativity to be left unfulfilled.     There's just a lingering breath that's left in the air as he attempts to gain some sort of composure in all this. Still...     "The fuck is this kid to all of you extraversals anyways? He's a nobody. A loser. A sadsack little theatre nerd. Delusions of bein' a hero."     *Always comes back to the why, doesn't it? Why help them? What's it matter to you? Do these people even mean anything to you?*     Again, it's a question without a proper answer. Stanley, Charlotte, he's come to enjoy their presence. He wants to help them. He even appreciates that Stanley's so driven to be that theater nerd that makes it big. And yet...Is that enough?     "Do you believe this all for his sake? This seems more your own fixation, does it not? Perhaps it has escaped your notice the breadth of those affected by the actions that here take place."     Tamamo's words offer a wider view. A string not affiliated with fate, but of a lifeline in a different sort. An easy and tangible way to justify his acts in logic. To act in a way that aligns with those already. Its the kind of relief in those words that honestly would make him enjoy another conversation with her as well. One of these days. And yet...     "It's just...It's simple...If I have to choose between a theatre nerd like him, or a shit head like you, it's not even something you have to think...Just instinct."     It's just words that come to mind. No thought of it, just an honest truth of the situation. If he had to choose a reason, there's really none beyond Stanley was someone he aligned with more. He was less of a shit, and he just wanted to help because it just felt right...That's all, nothing grandiose.     It's for that reason that Touta finds himself slowly expanding the black fog out. Darkness enveloping all of the room except for a small pocket with Smithering within. The smaller dog-like entities fading into darkness one by one, and even without mouths there's sounds of crackling, of breaking that follow suit that come as Touta once again fades into it. Allowing for the spotlight to be left to those that needed to deal with the corpo-capitalist.
Stanley Padgett	A whirlwind of attacks literally starts to smash and blast at the BIG SHOT Shadows, blistering the little buggers into smoke and digital haze and shitty wailing cries to BuY NoW WhIlE iTs In StOcK And inch by inch, the crowd is thinning out, but also all of the servers, the data stacks, the connections, everything. This place is quickly turning into a mess of itself, and worse. Fires are sprouting up around the room from the BLISTERING HOT SALES, and the whole room smells like Magic Component Smoke-     Lilian grabs at Smithering, and the shadowy figure ripples and flutters. There's... something in there, as that massive hand tries to grab at him, but it's so thin, so vague at this point. There might not be a lot of Smithering actually left. What there IS left is smashed into the floor, and through the floor. And then right back up, smoke billowing and roiling around the floor. It smells like death in here, probably not good to keep breathing this all in, but that's what the healers are for.     "And you, lady, you are the biggest problem. You and this fucking stasis horseshit." Smithering's own hands slash up and out of the ground, wrapping around Lilian's throat, or trying to, grabbing and clawing and gripping and- looking to strangle the life out of her if he can manage it.     The rest of him rises up and out of the hole, like some awful cancer snake, minions clanking out of his form like lice. But the place is falling apart. He's being hexed, his Shadows are snuffed out, his... his everything is being torn to pieces. All of it is falling around him.     The sneering emoji in the giant fishbowl head slither around inside the smog, and the Tyrant rears back. "This is pointless."     And it's clear he's trying to do something. Everyone with the correct senses will spot it. He just tried to slither into the Reversal. And failed.     And that's bad.
Stanley Padgett	The being lets out an inhuman screech. "FINE WE'LL JUST DO IT HERE. AND NOT ON THE OTHER SIDE." An awful, rending sensation in the aether around everyone, and then those scents, those sensations, the smells of ancient markets, ancient times filter in around the room.     And over the top of the Tyrant, filling the room, is a ghost of an ancient skeletal merchant, an abacus in one hand, and a bag of coin in the other. And all around him, stacked high, is dull golden ore and stones.     and a name forces itself into everyone's minds     wailed by ten thousand swindled merchants     and carried aloft on hundreds of thousands of clay tablets             EA NASIR     BE BURIED IN YOUR DEBTS, FOOLS     And thousands of pounds of high quality copper smash into everyone from every angle imagineable.
Stanley Padgett	There is one... small, glimmering light in the end of this tunnel though. This endless hell of shekels and bad deals and-     A golden apple... that hangs delicately in the air... in front of each of you. Each and everyone of of you.     One last deal. First taker gets it, gets it all. Their very own one of a kind and priceless wish, right off the presses.     Dost thou desire the power?
Ishirou	Thankfully, the copper used by Mr. Capitalism is of poor quality, if it were higher quality, it'd have been enough to probably crush them all.  It bends under the weight of itself, but also against the ablative armor of the RESCUE unit. This saves Ishirou from death or severe injury.  Pushing out of the attack, he staggers and nearly falls on his hands and knees...only to stare up at the apple. His sensors don't need to tell him what it is he sees.  It's a wish-given form.  He /knows/ it's a last desperate gambit.  He knows it's bad, tainted... he /knows/ all of this, and yet he can't stop himself from reaching for it for just a moment.  His eyes are wide and he realizes that he could wish for anything. The one thing he wants, more than anything in the world.  His wish to become human again... to undo his mistake and return to the body he had before all of this.  He could... start showing the he he wants to be, instead of hiding under the baggy clothing and RESCUE armor... <J-IC-Scene> Angela exhausted, "Ishirou, please." Right.  So would she.  It snaps him back from the edge just enough.  He... he's mad.  Using his desire like that.  Using his deepish wish, and offering a cheap knockoff wish.  It'd be fake too, wouldn't it..?  No, it'd probably be real, but it wouldn't be /right/.  His eyes narrow, and he looks at the man stuck on this side.   Without a single word, Ishirou turns POD towards the Tyrant.  A beam starts charging as the top of POD's head opens open.  There is a magic circle, followed by a second circle.  Ishirou's right hand glows, attempting to hold him in place.  Firing a beam of energy from POD and attempting to smash the Tyrant with it.   "No.  There is a way to get my humanity back, and it's not through some knockoff wish device... Angela and Tamomo are right," he says, hoarsely, but with a cleansing breath.  "I'm not going to make sacrifices about who I am...  Not anymore."
Lilian Rook	'And you, lady, you are the biggest problem.'     "Thank you for noticing." says Lilian, without sarcasm. "I work very hard to make sure that I always am."     'You and this fucking stasis horseshit.'     "But that's your own fault. This 'stasis', this town; this is your idea. Your setup. This is the way your feeble imagination cracks in half when it tries to comprehend what you see as so toyetically lucrative."     Lilian shakes her hand, waving impact-numbness out of her fingertips, before twisting her wrist and tensing her bicep again. A familiar? phantasm, of implacable flickering void and the little lights of future stars, mimics her in doing so at six times scale. It'd almost seem like a Persona, were it anything comprehensible, were it more than just one extrusion piercing through space, and if it didn't disappear with a single eyeblink, like a waking hallucination. "You have no idea what the weight of a wish is, filth. How dare you think yourself worthy of touching one."     'And thousands of pounds of high quality copper smash into everyone from every angle imagineable'     §"But that's wrong, isn't it? §She/I/We§ can imagine all sorts of angles; all kinds of lines and shapes and ways of going; so many ways of being and choosing and expressing and loving; that you can't even begin to, right? Thinking only in three dimensions is so adorably §heteronormative§ of you~"§     "It isn't a sure-hit attack unless it's already hit." says Lilian. She's blinked out of the copper coffin immeasurably fine instants before impact. A faint trickle of radioactively-coloured haze fades from her left knuckles, and where she steps; smoke from struck sparks. "Like you've already been hit now."     What does--     Ea Nasir went into the Reversal.     He even screamed.     So maybe it wasn't just the imagination, or a bit of debris, or a brief, strange shadow.     That blink where, just for an instant, §someone's(?)§ arm was draped elegantly around his shoulders, and a long blade of grainy flicker-edged blackness was sprouting through his chest.     "No deal, Extra. You can't buy one, or borrow one, or have it granted by someone else. Or should I just say 'got mine, fuck you'?"
Charlotte Newman	Charlotte recoils from Smithering just as Lilian closes in with the Lady In Black, skipping back several paces with her eyes wide as that fist of Void smashes the Tyrant down into the guts of the building. Her stance settles when she stops moving, balancing the bat in both hands.     Her phone chimes and she shoots a look at her purse, then at the hole in the glass floor and the story below, "Did he just--?"     Oh but that failed. The Tyrant's second form erupts from the opening instead on this side of Reality where it really isn't supposed to be; but is, anyway. Did Exigent Serenity stop him? Like what happened before with Stanley? No matter how unhinged Smithering's gotten at this point, he had the wherewithal to escape when he's clearly lost-- and couldn't this time.     This feels like an auspicious opportunity.     And then Charlotte is buried under a heap of sketchy copper ingots and baubles with a wordless shout that cuts off. It takes an invaluable few seconds for her to shove her way to the surface and tumble free, rolling down to floor level and sliding to a stop on her feet.     The golden apple presented to her is, unhesitantly, smashed out of the way with her bat. She then points the same weapon at the towering illusory form of Ea Nasir, "MEGIDO!"     Galatea twists in place and thrusts her cannon arm forward, the crack of the magical artillery report rattling glass shards scattered throughout the server room. Like before, this sails above the Tyrant and explodes there, showering him with a cone of gleaming Allmighty light in sharp contrast to the inky flickering void.
Angela	Angela understands the desire to use a wish and if it was just about the cost being 'Stanley's world' she probably would be like 'yeah go for it'. It's not as if ANgela wouldn't make a sacrifice at the expense of the world to finally be free. But she has been promised assistance from someone she has an unwavering faith in--as unwavering as Angela can believe in anyone anyway--and so spoiling all HER hard work to try and get an easy win isn't really what she's shooting for. And besides, Tamamo is right--it is likely a Poisoned Apple. Not that she doesn't understand being tempted anyway. Poisoned Apples work because they're still tempting no matter how suspicious. But there's two other qualities in Angela that convinces her to shoot for ''ending it'' rather than trying to be a selfish girl and that's she tired and wants to deal with this so she can take her agents and leave and move on with her life such as it is. And also she firmly believes that any kind of power sought by someone like this, someone who feels disgusting even relative to her creator--is nothing she wants anything to do with. Justin Rook just knows from experience you don't listen to the Abnormality. He grips Penitence in his hands and actually laughs briefly at Lilian's retort though it's a tired, reflexive laugh rather than one with much humor behind it. Angela, being here via datapad, is largely oblivious to the mental assault--and it's muted for Justin too, even if it's not wholly dispersed. He's got strong resilience against White Damage. Justin sets Angela-as-datapad down as he turns his gaze towards that tempting tempting apple. Justin Rook runs at it, swings back with Penitence and says, "Nope," and attempts to smash that golden apple as hard as he can with Jesus's skull on a giant cross shaped mallet. "Nice try."
Kukuru	This feels good. This feels better than it should. Shouldn't Kukuru be feeling kind of bad about breaking things? Maybe. There's a lot of people that put a lot of work into building this, and to smash it all up, even if it was being used for ultimately bad things... Shouldn't she be the one showing all these kids how to be responsible, even when stopping someone terrible? Shouldn't she be the smart one right now? 'You have to take steps to be kind to yourself, too.' 'They're always calling you stupid and ditzy, but you're actually smarter than they are, aren't you~? So keep a hold of that, okay? You're going to need it later.' No. This is fine. Everyone else gets it, too, so they wouldn't even think she's stupid this time. This entire operation has to be destroyed, and everyone here's on the same page. Besides, this DOES feel good now. It feels right, knowing that she's doing something good with her family, her friends, and whatever complicated relationships there are in between. The smashing doesn't stop until Kukuru realizes that Smithering has once again slipped away, but whatever he's trying to do doesn't work. "Other side...? Oh, the.. No. That 's not allowed." She affirms with an indignant grunt, perhaps masking the fact that she didn't actually get what he was doing until just this moment. Looking up at the ghost merchant appearing, she hears something in the back of her mind and smells those strange scents coming in from it, but the name? The name doesn't ring a bell to her at all. All that copper certainly does, though, and she brings her claws up to shield her head from the deluge of bars. The sheer number of bars coming down still manages to bury her, though, and there's a few moments where she can't quite move. Or rather, she doesn't want to move. This is a lot of copper, and she could probably sell a lot of this for usable money. A few pocketfuls of the stuff could certainly pay for a lot of things back home, and that's not to mention all the projects that could be offloaded somewhere else with raw materials. It takes her a little while to get out, then, as she winds up stuffing some of this copper in wherever Kukuru gets all her other things from, although she reminds herself to keep her hopes down in case it's not really usable after all. Once the nanites return to Kukuru, though, the pile pinning her down starts to move again. Pushing upwards off the ground, she bursts out of the copper pile, clothes disheveled and her hair even more of a mess while some of that copper is bloody from the sheer force of throwing herself out of it, but she's out! Out, and face to face with a strange golden apple. It tempts her, trying to draw her into making a wish, to grant her the power to achieve something she couldn't possibly achieve in her lifetime. She stares at it long and hard, scratching her cheek after a while as a troubled frown crosses her face. What could she do with this that she couldn't do with enough hard work, anyway? "Maybe for...? No, that's just time. A higher...? Nah, too much work. And just getting money... No, the smart TV guy said that wouldn't work." With her thoughts about potential wishes already getting hazy, Kukuru's able to snap her attention away from that apple, and she turns her ire back towards the Tyrant. "You're really reaching now, aren't you?" She approaches him again, stepping into one portal to appear from another, then doing so again from multiple different angles consecutively to make her approach all that more unpredictable and harrowing as she can be seen taking one of those claws off. "You've caused all this trouble for everyone, called everyone all sorts of terrible things, and now you're trying to buy us with something that didn't even work?" She steps through one more portal, and then- "How pathetic." Kukuru's voice comes from behind the Tyrant as her bare hands reach for the Tyrant's face, almost like she's pinch his cheeks playfully except for the part where she pulls in opposite directions.
Tamamo	As expected, there is no reasoning with this opponent. There is no point at which he realizes the folly of his position, and bargains for a better one. A businessman might be expected to have such an inclination, but not every business is fated to be successful, and those that recklessly make enemies may find themselves bereft of fortune and support. So it is that Tamamo-no-mae twists the good fortune she's taken from the wielder of Ea Nasir around her finger, what she had not already woven for Lilian's sake, and waits a few more moments for the fall and crash.     The copper should be a surprise, but it isn't, with a seer's advantage. She already knows that this is 'wealth that will be lost,' and her actions naturally take her along that path of ruin that will see its destruction. There's no direction in which to dodge, no method by which she might teleport away. The talisman that's already in her hand isn't for that.     "Invert the third burning hell." The floor beneath her blazes, and the air shimmers with heat, her own form flickering, nearly disappearing.                                   "Samghata."                                       Stones, appearing from the vague location Tamamo had occupied, crash into the copper from every direction, flash incandescent and sublimate mid-crushing, the edges splashing molten copper high up the walls of the room while the cores explode outward, only not quite, 'by chance,' catching any ally in the effect.     Francis Withering is, naturally, no ally. The molten heat, stone and metal called forth by Tamamo's curse, invoking the great hell of 'crushing,' is aimed at him, with the remains of his own copper stores in front of it.
Touta Konoe	The Shadows conjured by Smithering are made mute. All that's left of them is the sound of poorly made deal offerings, as if they were the pleading voices in their final moments of existence. The damage is done though as the servers go up in flames and smoke.     It's only at first when it looks like it's clearly his defeat and fails to enter the Reversal      "You thought you were going to get to run from this?"     He can't attest to knowing Lilian or ES that well, but even he knows that after all the shit they've both been through there was no way in hell that he was leaving this fight so easily. Not even in his most earnest wishes could such an outcome be realized.     It's when all else fails that the coins begin to fall. There's clearly enough to bury everyone in their weight in gold and yet...None of the Elites find themselves Impeded. Each through git or otherwise finds themselves overcoming it. Almost perhaps too easily in some cases for the effort that Smithering expends in this final strike. Even for Touta as it looks like his body is lost in the golden hailstorm of coin, there's a black that slowly seeps out from the pile as it slowly starts to reform...      "Ya know, I've heard of throwing money at your problems...But even this is pretty pathetic. You don't..."     As Touta lets those words spill, they falter for a moment at the sight of the apple. Even without the explanation he knows enough to know what this power is being offered, this wish to be provided. Through his own issues, through the buzzing of absurdity that's dealt with as they go. In truth, in this state of where indecisiveness could be tempted. As even now he can hear the cool voice that numbs him like morphine inching him to surely be a bit more greedy perhaps...Or maybe that's just his own selfish way of avoiding his own desires...His blade cleaves through the apple, again and again. Cleaving away at it till the slices seem imperceivable "You don't get to try and buy us off either..."     Even in this state, he's got enough discernment for that. Something that as he finds himself looking back to Tamamo, as her form flickers in the moment. There's no discernable smile, but a nod. For he does consider her presence, a form of good fortune in it's own right.
Petra Soroka	Lilian is *so* cool.     That's the main thought in Petra's head, looking up to watch the second appearance of the larger Lady in Black while distractedly dispatching a Shadow. Without taking her eyes off of Lilian, Petra slams the butt of her spear into the side of one of their heads, stomps her boot on its neck, then thumbs another moon clip into her revolver before flicking the cylinder closed and executing it. Absentmindedly, Petra leans her cheek into her hand while staring dreamily and a little self-indulgently at the display, and then flinches when that accidentally makes her press burning hot gunmetal to her face.     Eyes tearing up from the burn, Petra jams Pillar of Creation into the ground through a Shadow's chest, freeing up a hand to pathetically nurse it. With the hordes of Shadows thinning, one hand on her revolver is enough to stem the tide, just in time for Petra to get distracted by yelling at Charlotte in the radio. The thought 'fucking beg for forgiveness or I'll put you down the first chance I get' crosses her mind, glaring at the back of Charlotte's head with her thumb on the hammer of her gun. It's *so* satisfying, gradually training herself away from the guilt she trained herself into feeling at those kinds of thoughts, building up the tolerance to constantly attack them so Lilian doesn't have to weather it uncontested. "You have no idea what the weight of a wish is, filth. How dare you think yourself worthy of touching one."     Petra sighs adoringly, wrenching her spear out of the ground to keep clearing the field and maintain Lilian's floor. Despite all the broken glass, florescent lighting, and magical combat, the cold smog of Exigent Serenity's emotional presence still fills Petra's lungs like a drug, making her that much more uninhibited in her expressions of awe at Lilian's domineeringly harsh words. Not that it's a secret, anymore, but normally Petra would be less open about fawning over Lilian bullying someone, especially with Tamamo around.     Being *hit* by the copper isn't Petra's primary concern, not with how Sound of a Star is one of the most durable EGO suits available to the agents. The problem with being buried under thousands of pounds of copper is that she would, afterwards, be buried under thousands of pounds of copper, and doesn't have any way of digging her way out. When the stones start floating up in preparation for the attack, Petra ducks back against a wall, jamming her spear into the ground at an angle and sweeping the her trenchcoat over it, shielding herself with a near-impenetrable makeshift tent in the instant before she's buried. With a little difficulty, Petra tugs at her coat to let the copper pour into the open space she's made, then clambers out, kicking the ore aside.
Petra Soroka	PHONE: Angela says, "It ... is quite similar to the structure of Lobotomy Corp. And that it summoned a fruit... ... Yes, you are correct. I wonder what they would have wished for. I cannot imagine anything pleasant." PHONE: Phoning Angela, Petra Soroka says, "It's always the dumbest shit." PHONE: Phoning Angela, Petra Soroka says, "It's like, not even proper wishes. Just stupid garbage like "I wish the characters from my dumbass phone game were real"." PHONE: Phoning Angela, Petra Soroka says, "Who even knows if this fucking machine has any real scientific value for wishgranting. The word 'wish' might not even apply to the vapid things these Extras want." "Or should I just say 'got mine, fuck you'?"     Much less than being tempted, Petra sneers at the offer of the fruit. She walks right past it without lingering, closing the distance between herself and the Tyrant, striding up to the opposite side that Lilian's on, spear loosely in one hand.     "You don't even know what a wish is. Nothing any of the animals in this fucking city wants has ever counted as a proper one. Making contact with a real wish instantly broke your entire machine, creep."     Petra snickers, thinking of an add-on for Lilian's one-liner, a little late for proper delivery. "Besides. I don't take handouts." Eminently pleased with herself for the banter, Petra preens for a second before adjusting her grip on Pillar of Creation to be two-handed, then impaling the Tyrant from the opposite side that Lilian already has.
Stanley Padgett	Smash. One rejection. Smart, from the L-Corp agent.     Smash. Another rejection from Charlotte.     And another from Tamamo.     And from Kukuru.     And Lilian.     Ishirou, tempted by the possibility of being a Real Boy.     Petra, who knows better to take bad candy from people who aren't Lilian.     Touta, not swayed by a simple bribe.     But each time, the Wish is splintered and frayed and rejected, it flutters back into place in front of someone else. Offering power, each and every time.     And then it arrives in front of Stanley, pulling himself out of a pile of copper. And he grabs it. And holds it. And stalks over towards Ea-Nasir.     What remains of Francis Smithering is not having a good day. He has not had a good few weeks. He is being R E D A C T E D and buried in boiling copper and having the piss beat out of him and MEGIDO'd and pinched and woogied and- and it's all... it's a fucking lot, and there's just... less and less of the Tyrant to go around. Each time he fends off the attack, there's just... so much fewer strands of Shadow left.     And then Stanley is standing over the glass bowl that is the head of Ea-Nasir. The orange smog is flitting and sparse now, the 'face' that's left is experiencing a horrid digital stroke. Stanley reaches down, crams the golden apple into the punch bowl. "No punchline. I'm too tired." Mercutio swans into existance behind him, raises up its flintlock, and fires a SAINT'S FINGER into the punchbowl head. There is a flash of light.     And then there is no more Francis Smithering.
Stanley Padgett	Stanley then finds a nice piece of debris to sit on. And just sort of... throw up a bit.
Tamamo	When the heat haze has disappeared and the curse has run its quick course, Tamamo is still standing there. This isn't in time to watch every other single attack land, but it is in time to watch Stanley finish off something that had been in the vague form of a man. Tamamo's not entirely certain what it was, at the end, having been quick enough to accept the idea that humans in this world might transform into many-armed emoji-faced beings, and only rethought that idea after finding the lack of a corpse.     What she says is, "Mr. Padgett, you may take this... for your stomach, if you like." Withdrawn from her voluminous sleeve is a small, stoppered drinking gourd with a leather strap. The medicine in it mostly tastes like water.     After passing a look of concern, she looks away from where he'd been sitting, and walks over with quickening steps to check on Lilian.
Ishirou	Ishirou holds a hand up to Stanley to stop him.  He's too late... and he sighs.  His hand lowers, not because he particularly held any value in the life of this man, ruined by greed and tried to tempt him with his most vaunted desires... No, because making that kind of decision can change a person, and Stanley, to him, was still a boy.  He starts to say something and then stops.  No, he can't tell people things like that.  He can't make their choices for them.  He can only advise the best that he can, but these things have to be done.   Rubbing his head, he turns to look at the remains of the consul, and starts drawing out any data he can get his hands on... though he'll likely have to clean up anything gained this way.  Still... It's better than nothing.
Lilian Rook	With the Tyrant rid of, Lilian doesn't perform her usual post-battle cooldown. The sound she makes is only exhausted and inwardly worried, rather than calming by any condition. She has no weapons to put away, at that moment, and she visibly fidgets with her sword hand for the absence of the habit. She walks only a short ways before sitting down on a piece of wreckage, crossing one ankle over her knee, putting her elbow in her lap, and resting her cheek almost sulkily in her palm.     Lilian glances to the sparkling constellation of glass and hanging above everyone's heads-- a galaxy of reflections within reflections in a way that no one ever sees-- and tells no one about it.     "I'm fine." she says, automatically, to Tamamo. A moment later, it softens to a "Seriously; what was that?" and a gesticulating pat of the overturned server flat she's sitting on. Far from comfortable, but close enough to put an arm around on. "It couldn't have been that . . ." She visibly locks up for a second, then says ". . . thing's, doing. The wishes. We may as well hunt down the box later. But it does make me wonder." She whispers something therapeutically under her breath. "Thou shalt never heed the words of that which begs thy reply . . ."
Charlotte Newman	Charlotte whips her bat back, prepared for the next barrage, Galatea floating above and behind her at the ready. Her posture shifts and straightens when Stanley finishes Ea Nasir off directly in his weakened state and things-- cease.     While her partner in crime slinks off to be sick, Charlotte wobbles in place, then collapses on the floor where she was standing. Galatea twists, merging back into her silhouette as she lifts her arms up to hug herself, staring down at the shards of broken glass scattered across the translucent floor. It doesn't make sense... No he had to be lying.     Pausing, she jerks her face up, grim determination crossing her expression.     I have to go back and see for myself.     Unsteadily, the girl braces herself with her bat and climbs back to her feet. She glances towards Stanley as Tamamo goes to him, then herself approaches-- Lilian, first. She clips her bat to her purse strap, then stands at her full height, gathering her words for a moment.     "Miss Rook, thank you. And... You said, to only apologize once."     She bends at the waist, "I'm sorry, for everything I've done. For yelling at you like a child. For getting things so wrong all the time. For using the wrong terms. For the terrible things I said to Xion. Everything."     When she comes back up, the girl nods once, "I'll have to talk to miss Xion, too." After a moment, she dips her head and excuses herself, trotting to meet up with Stanley.     "Are you going to be okay..?"
Stanley Padgett	Stanley will thankfully take the drink, and stand up, swishing his mouth with some of the fluid, before finding a more discrete place to spit out the taste from his mouth. He'll drink the rest of it, though. "...Thanks."     And then he shakes his head and shrugs his shoulder at Charlotte's touch at first... before relenting and letting the contact happen.     "...I just want to go home."
Tamamo	Tamamo accepts Lilian's answer. She can always check her health in more detail when they're home, so it's not like she has to fuss every time in the field. She just, usually, forgets that fact and fusses in the field. This time, she sits by Lilian's side, and subtly leans against her.     She has to wait a few moments, after that, to watch Charlotte's apology. Tamamo's eyes focus on Lilian's, right afterward, with some interest in how she takes it, though she doesn't provide comment before going on to the question she was asked.     "I do, in this case, understand rather little of what is happening, I fear. Do the people of this world usually...?" She gestures, vaguely, toward where a CEO isn't. "Was this, too, the result of an incomplete wish?"     She shakes her head. "We have ways of finding such things, and threads at which we might tug. We shall find it, I am sure. Ah, but... the place to which we must travel, as she spoke of... the 'dungeon,' was it not? Will that not find us the same answers...? If not, what might we find...? I wonder." And she leans a little more, while moving to take Lilian's hand and look up at the shattered glass.     "It's sparkling." If only when she moves her eyes, since the glass itself won't move.