Scene Listing

||

Scene Schedule

||

Scene Schedule RSS

Owner	Pose
Razz	Patchcon has returned to Quilt Convention Centre #42!     The pleasantly warm early autumn sun beats down on the line winding around the great building's carparks. People have been queued for hours, sold water bottles and scalped tickets at exorbitant prices. But once inside the mercifully air-conditioned, convention, a wonderland spreads out before you. The building itself is mostly glass, made up of multiple layers of open floor plans connected by elevators and escalators. Gaps have been cut into floors, extending from the ground floor all the way to the roof, creating many balconies and making the place feel a lot more open. The convention is already in full swing, stalls packed high with every comic, figure, or building kit you could name. People dressed as their favourite characters, some even dressed as Elites. And there's scarcely a moment where someone participating in some kind of tournament isn't flipping a table or spiking an expensive controller.     But there's an odd tension in the air. One that most attendees might miss, but those who are more than just dressed as Elites would feel. People are moving through the crowds with purpose, using the balconies and escalators to get better vantage points. Every now and again they make some inconspicuous motion that implies talking into a subtle communicator. The convention hall is being actively searched, a co-ordinated group effort over the very thing that has likely called the Elites here.
Razz	Ma-con-bre has returned.     A mostly irregular gathering of the Multiverse's criminal element. Spies, hitmen, and any who move in seedy underbellies of society attend to network, gather information, and generally prepare to be even bigger criminals than before.      Whenever the event is scheduled, it is arranged to occur at the same time and place as another large gathering, allowing its attendees to blend into the crowd, their illicit dealings camouflaged by an above-board event. And this year, that event is Patchcon. The factions generally keep an eye on Ma-con-bre, but this year's event has demanded a step up from 'wait-and-see' to 'be ready to move in.     The annual auction for illicit goods this year includes multiple relics salvaged from Njorun Crater and the Maw of Tyrants. Powerful artefacts from the old superfactions, twisted and corrupted. No one knows what they can do, but it's never anything good. Each faction has a vested interest to ensure that they don't fall into the wrong hands. Whether or not there's a 'right hands' is where the difference in opinion lies.     It takes a couple of minutes before plainclothes factional agents in the convention can learn what has Ma-con-bre agents in search mode and relay this back to their factions, to relay it to the Elites. The superfaction artefacts, the cornerstone of the auction... they've gone missing. Not only are Ma-con-bre staff looking for it, they've issued a bounty on their safe return, so the attendees are hunting also.
Razz	But that's below the surface. Patchcon itself seems to be setting up for an exciting day for the civilians in attendance. They even have a clown, the obnoxiously purple Razz, handing out balloon accessories here in the entrance hall, sitting atop some kind of tall stool covered in a blanket. Currently, they're assembling a balloon crown, which they lower onto the head of a young girl holding hands with someone in a full body mole-themed mascot costume. "And there you are little princess," They say, having to bend down far from their perch to crown the young lady. So far, that they slip and fall, dragging the blanket with them.     "Oh no! Are you okay Miss Clown?" the girl asks, getting her response from Razz raising a thumbs-up while still face-down. "Oh okay! Thank you for the crown!" But while the girl says her goodbyes, all eyes are on what Razz was sitting on. Three large metal crates, stacked on top of each other. All of the Ma-con-bre staff lurking about lock on to them, all of them making reports. Moments later, reports from the factional plainclothes reach the Elites.     "They've found the relics. Apparently, a clown has them?"     There's purposeful, forceful movement through the surrounding crowds. It's about ten seconds before tensions peak, and a fight likely breaks out.
Casey Muir	"A convention! How exciting. I've never been to a convention before." That's the 10ft tall androgynous Keeper of the Grove. "It ain't much, usually. A bunch of nerds doin' plumb nerdy things, ain't much to write home about." That's the 5'4" young woman dressed entirely in orange. "I am not sure I understand what 'nerdy things' are." The Keeper watches one of the video game tournaments briefly, and frowns as the controller is spiked. "I think I understand what 'nerdy things' are," they say. The duo move on - ending up near Razz, who seems much more pleasant to be around than the Genius Gamer M's. "Oh! A clown. How delightful. Can you do a balloon gator?" says the dryad, smiling down on him. At the moment, the Keeper is entirely unaware of anything fishy going on. They're still new to this, and aren't quite up to speed on the factional alert procedures.
Ishirou	Things were going...well not well for Ishirou.  He was here to spy on the Ma-con-bre, his senses and hacking ability would be very useful for the elites on the ground.  What's bad though is the tension in the air and the fact that people are now nervous.  The wrong people are looking for things, and that means something bad is going to break out soon.  He gets word about the artifacts being stolen. He relays that information, back to the Paladin side of things, trying to keep the local tacnet for the Paladins going while people search for the artifacts and keep an eye on the criminals here.  The last thing they need is the criminal elements harassing innocent congoers.  Of course, things will end up crazily leading back to Razz, who... They are slowly being surrounded by people who wish them harm, civilians who are in the way, and elites who will likely take advantage of the situation.  Ishirou right now has transformed into RESCUE, and is trying to get closer to try and evacuate the area around Razz before tension explodes into an actual fight.
Echolalia	Echolalia isn't here for crimefighting, she's actually here for Patchcon! Specifically, she's here for the panels on martial arts (and martial arts animation) and is wearing a full body gator-style mascot costume because she's still hoping to get the drop on Dysnomia but periodically sparks of color float out from behind the mascot gator's head and above it. She naturally spots The Keeper of the Grove quickly, despite not actually coming along with them, because it's hard for her to miss a ten foot tall adrogynous Keeper of the Grove. Despite being an 'Elite' she has no idea anything strange is happening (this is the first time she visited a convention) and she has no idea that anything is about to happen because she's so focused on getting to her panel but-- A clown? She's never seen a clown before. The mascot gator approaches the fallen clown and waves a little stubby mascot arm towards them. bfore she gets an update on her radio-- --Inside the costume she pulls her hand back and fidgets with her radio to try and pull it out of the mascot costume enough that she can actually see what the message in which mostly results in the 'Gator' to writhe about in place like it's about to tear itself apart--though it doesn't go THAT far just yet. "Mmphh...hold on...what is it--ffrriick." Echolalia's muffled voice pipes out from behind the mask. She can clearly hear Ishirou say ''We found the person who stole the artifacts''. Artifacts? CRIME?? She needs to check the details. The gator starts spinning around in place as the person within tries to get a good look at the report.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	threeslashchump: overpowering reddit stench eggsalad: @lomalco23 GunR PhreakMald GunL (M) Doorbot: Be sure to join Phreak's community server for stream notifications, sharing clips and more!     Cons are an easy gig for streaming, provided you have the setup for it--and Phreak has more reason to be here than just the easy content, so it's a no-brainer.     His pointed grey ears, facial tats and short, styled black hair would already stand out, if not for the graish street clothes he wears--khaki skinny jeans, knockoff designer boots and a black-gold sweater jacket over a rich red tee. The sweater jacket in particular has a glossy look to it, as if its golden padlock print were meant to evoke gold leaf. psychicumpire: bro looks like a werther's original     A chat overlay barely visible and reversed on Phreak's golden eyes scrolls every so often. That message catches his attention. "Glad you noticed, umpire. It's so your mother can suck me for hours."     The chat scrolls with a few lines of reactions. Above Phreak's wrist, a hardlight display of his camera feed floats, within arm's reach--right now it's showing his own face, to keep from recording anyone unintentionally.     Visible only to Phreak, a DM pops up--the expression on his face is visible to his entire double-digit chat, however, which starts a scroll of 'HopHold' emotes, the platform's mascot waiting with anxious bug-eyed expectance. They've found the relics. Apparently, a clown has them?     "Okay, so, little change of plans. The, uh, merch I came here to pick up--that's fucked. For the moment. Gonna see if I can get it back." lomalco23: so no booth boys?     Phreak reads the message aloud on route to the aforementioned clown. "You know there are real guys you could go outside and talk to, yeah? Like, you can do that."     Approaching Razz, "What's up, chief? Everything alright? You cool with being on camera?" If they're not, he keeps the little screen focused on himself. "Looks like you took a little spill there. Here," he says, offering Razz a hand. "Upsy daisy."     "Ah, yep. Right where we left 'em," he lies, to the tune of a rapid scroll of laughing emotes and LETHIMCOOK. "Let me just get by you here and get these outta your way..." And that's exactly what he tries to do, as casual as ever.
Rita Ma	Rita's recent internet 'fame' is inconvenient. She assumes she can show up incognito if she just dresses off-brand (cute sweater and slacks) and lets her hair down.      That isn't true.      After twenty minutes of wandering in innocent awe and picking out merch of her friends- and desperately trying not to look at the varying-quality Rita With Tentacles unofficial merch, from luxury magnetic bendables to a shitty action figure retrofitted with blue pipe cleaners- she gets blindsided.      "Hey, aren't you Ma Rita! Can you bite this funko pop for me??" says the owner of a print booth, just as she's leaning over the counter to look at them. Those words make her heart jump into her throat. "N-no! Sorry! I'm just cosplaying her!" "But--" "Goodbye mister!!"      Every stare in the room feels like it's on her, even if they're not. She vanishes around a corner with barely plausible speed, scrabbles into an air vent the minute nobody's looking, and pushes out a shaky breath while smooshing her face into the cool metal. Her heart thumps against it.      Great job, Rita. Maybe I can curl up and die in here.      It's a mercy when her little flip-top cell phone starts buzzing against the vent. She pops it open moodily, blazing her face in harsh white light.      ... A clown? They don't mean--      They do mean. When Rita peeps down out of the closest overhead vent to the unfolding Clown Incident, her breath catches in her throat. Didn't Razz seem so nice on the radio?      Metal creaks just slightly as she extrudes a cloaked tentacle to reach down toward Razz and the crates, extending a mental whisper as she does. As long as Phreak's got the goods, that's fine, but what if her new friend needs extraction too?      "Razz? It's me, Rita. You can think back at me. What's going on?"
Kukuru	Conventions like these are some of Kukuru's favorite things to go to. Does she understand what she's looking at? Not really. Does she recognize any of characters being referenced? Some, actually. She's been to a few conventions before, at first to chaperone, then to just people watch, and even a few times as an ambassador for the Concord. The need for more boots on the ground this time, however, means that she's here on official business. She's even dressed for work rather than for leisure today, coincidentally looking like one of those many cosplayers for some tower defense-esque mobile game thanks to the dark gray jacket, tie, and work boots combo she's got on. After spending too long convincing attendees she's not actually a cosplayer (not helped at all by her willingness to pose for pictures anyway), Kukuru eventually winds up near where Razz is entertaining yet more guests and a kid. "Oh, that's the cutie from that last time ... Hehe. Hello agaaain!" Giggling softly at what appears to be innocent entertainment complete with a gator mascot that most certainly isn't a disguise for Echolalia, she claps lightly for the familiar clown and the unfamiliar mascot before getting ready to continue her patrols elsewhere. And then the reports start coming in. <<"Reeeeally? Okaaay, I'll keep an eye out for one, then~">> She chimes in response, not making any connection between those reports and Razz until the shoving movements turn her around enough to actually realize where she should be paying attention. Ishirou's familiar face gets a cheery wave from Kukuru, although she does a double take once she realizes he's coming down rather quickly along with the crowd increasing in size a little too quickly to be safe. Kukuru's not the sort of person to push back at first, though, so she just goes with the flow of bodies pushing her closer to where things are liable to explode soon. "Oh my... Easy now, dears! Eaaaasy~" She's still giggling even as she sees Phreak, expression softening again at another familiar face while noticing that he's also reaching for some of those crates. "Oh, Phreaky dear? I think Razz here was using those foooor... Clown stuff, mhm!" The gears turn, and then Kukuru taps the bottom of her fist into the opposite palm. "Ohhh... Yeeeeah, those, mhm! I can bring them back once you're finished with your show later." She says to Razz with another chuckle, apparently trying to use the power of SOCIAL PRESSURE to lay claim to the crates.
Echolalia	Echolalia's senses immediately clue her in on Rita--specifically that Rita is not doing well--she assumes because she knows that something sketchy is going on and is scared! For her safety! She finally got her radio out and saw some of the details. But she briefly loses track of Rita when she swoops up to the air vent but whem the metal creaks, she looks up in her gator costume. She holds a gator paw to her mouth and says to her, "Oh there you are...! Don't worry, Miss... If any arms merchants are after you, I'll protect you from them... Because I... Am Lalia the Tai Chi Gator..." She swings a leg back up in a pose. Her mask turns to look at a Rita Ma t-shirt on display then back up to Rita. Nah, she thinks, they look nothing alike.
Rita Ma	Rita's eyes go wide the second she's seen in the vents, jolting like a scared cat. Being seen when you're trying to hide is danger. There I am?! Who's--      Positive ID on Lalia the Tai Chi Gator can wait. Don't let her call out position- and an invisible tentacle wraps itself around Echolalia's mouth, cold and slick and smothering.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	Oh, Phreaky dear? I think the clown was using those foooor... Clown stuff, mhm!     "Hey Kukuru. Nah, it's cool. There was a mix-up. The clown stuff's actually at the other end of the convention center."     He pauses. "'Show Kukuru.' Kukuru, you OK with being on camera?"     If so:     "Yep. There she is, chat. Everybody say 'hi, Kukuru--'"     Phreak turns his little screen and taps a button so that Kukuru can see the feed which would otherwise be visible only to him. It's not a huge chat--but she can see a few messages. lomalco23: hi kukuru eggsalad: HI KUKURU threeslashchump: squeeze me to death mommy     "Okay," he then says flatly, interrupting himself in a fit of evident annoyance. "You had to make it weird. So no more Kukuru for chat. Yep. She's going bye-bye," he says authoritatively, swirling the hardlight screen back around and making a passive-aggressive 'bye-bye' wave with the fingers of the other hand. Kukuru can see a protest or two scroll, though the text is reversed.     "Oh, you don't like that? Then be normal. For *two seconds.* Like, ever, dude. Christ."
Petra Soroka	Some people here are here for Patchcon, the ones who are dressed as Elites, but aren't. Some are downplaying their outfits to fit in with the general crowd, hiding their status as 'elites' to disguise their attendance to the shadowy Ma-con-bre. Some others, the ones on high alert for the figures creeping around the balconies, are dressed like Elites because they *are* Elites. One person, among the crowd of thousands, is avoiding dressing like an Elite for none of those reasons at all: Petra Soroka, known Elite and Normal Girl, is here for the convention.     Petra's fame, such that it is, remains extremely niche among the general population. Her fans-- or even, the people who would recognize her name-- are limited to people for whom Elites are already a sort of fan media, and among those, her fame is inherited secondhand from people more interested in Lilian or Eggman. But here, at Patchcon, that's not an insigificant number at all. It's entirely possible, if she approached that Lilian cosplayer for conversation instead of just snottily calling out that her cardboard Night Mist is too small, she'd be recognized, not just by her but potentially by some of the fans surrounding her.     And so, Petra is not wearing her bomber jacket. She's not wearing her EGO gear, and her transteam gun has an orange cap on it to signify that it's fake. In jeans and a flannel over a shirt that says DO NOT GIVE ME A CIGARETTE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES NO MATTER WHAT I SAY, pulling up her cloth facemask after leaving the smoking section of the convention, Petra is nearly unrecognizable to the common observer.     But why? What would possibly drive Petra to attend a convention in a completely normal way, going to such lengths to hide her identity, and not even open carrying a *real* gun?     The answer lies in the brown paper bag cradled in her arms, with a colorful print of two clearly-artistic boys with their arms over each other's shoulders on it. Inside is a handful of keychains and pins, a print, and a physical copy of some sort of low-key slice of life webcomic about superheroes called 'Astrapolis'. Petra is alone, because no one must know.     And so, seeing Razz as a familiar face participating in the events makes her stomach drop. She hisses a swear under her breath and heel-turns, shouldering against the flow of the crowd to try to slip back to the artist's alley unnoticed, but it's too late for her. Both the above and belowground elements of the event are slowly closing in, and Petra's sixth sense for Elite nonsense is confirmed when *fucking Ishirou* of all people starts hovering over the hall, which only intensifies her need to not be here right now.     "Fucking *one day*, dude. *One* day. They're like fucking flies. If I miss my goddamn panel for this--"     Petra's low whining is cut off by a fist closing around the back of her collar, choking her airflow and yaaaaanking her backwards harder than she can resist. "Hey--!"
Lilian Rook	As a general self-rule, Lilian tries to keep away from Elite fandom.     Though she has been incidentally aware of its general comings and goings ever since first entering her personally litigious phase, hiring her first team of lawyers shortly after making it big enough in the Paladins to start getting compensated disclosure forms pushed at her, most of her down-to-earth awareness of anything that 'Elite fans' do or say-- especially outside of what they buy and sell-- has been forced upon her over the prior year of Petra attempting to ruin her reputation, followed by the video at LobCorp boosting it well beyond her control.     Outside of occasional glances at wiki edits and C&D stacks passed over her desk, or offhanded absorption through peers in the field wowed by her more contemporary promotional materials, she makes a habit of keeping to the golden rule of 'never Google yourself'.     After all. For every hundred adoring fans, taken in by her immaculate charms, 'visual design', high-profile star romance, and explosively growing list of accomplishments, there must be someone with an opinion bad enough to keep her up at night from just hearing it. Or so she reasons. Extraplating from how Wrong some of her own peers in the field are already is enough to convince her that life is better lived without seeing those sorts of comments like on the video leak of Rita.     Which really just means that Lilian faces a unique set of difficulties in being a prestigious enough name to be chosen for Paladins assignment to such a high-stakes monitoring operation, given that she is torn between doing her absolute best to keep her eyes out, and also a paralyzing dread of seeing some kind of negative fan feedback that cancels out all the good parts. By the time she has struck her best equilibrium on the convention grounds, she's all but forgotten about the dangerous hitmen.     Not even a detail like this could possibly get Lilian in a suit, but she has at least decided to wear dark sunglasses and tie her hair into a somewhat unassuming messy bun, to go with a somewhat dressy blazer sash-buckled over a somewhat businessy skirt with an action slit. She'd stopped before applying enough concealer to her scar to cover it up, however, upon realizing that she didn't have the stomach to actually leave her hairpin at home, and had to settle for simply moving it to a less pronounced part of her head. Optimistically, she hopes that no one will notice, or else just compliment her on her tastefully expensive replica; mostly she just hopes to project enough 'fuck off I'm working' energy to skate by.     What actually happens is that she spends an hour silently cringing inside out at the number of 'oh my gosh don't worry your Secret is Safe with Me' looks she gets between random encounters with people who feel very clever for being the Only Ones at the Con who Figured it Out and want to ask about her new Style, followed by a retreat to a somewhat stealthier position between rounds.     For the first time ever, it is a dizzying relief to cut what amounts to a social life with escalated work. Lilian gets the alert just after successfully securing at least one sample of every single piece of high quality Tamamo merchandise on offer, very proud of herself for Stealthily staying ahead of any fan collector that might hope to outdo her (No one is trying) (Her shopping list is going to go viral for a week), and thus is happy to dip between overlaps in camera coverage and disappear; much like the criminal elites she'd spotted wandering at a distance during peak hours, come to think of it.
Lilian Rook	. . . . . .     "Oh, it's you." says Lilian at first sight of Razz-- up close, rather than from afar. She sounds like she really did only just think of it. Dragging a sussy looking girl in a Freedom-Hating face mask with her as if she'd caught her shoplifting and hoped to add to her Convention Security disguise, Lilian snapps her fingers a few times as if sparks would catch a memory alight, she says "I suppose that's hardly surprising. You were advertising on the broadband, weren't you?" Wearing sunglasses at least makes it less obvious when she crosses gazes with Phreak, converging on the same spot. "I wonder, now. If you planned on working, were you just hoping to network, or did you plan to meet someone in specific here?"     Moments Earlier:     'Hey--!'     "Wonderful of you to volunteer, Petra." Lilian murmurs quietly while dragging her out by the collar; just low enough for the two of them. "Perhaps I should lodge a complaint about your respect for my time on the clock, but if you've decided to trot along after me here . . ." says Lilian, assuming the only logical explanation. That is Petra being an obsessive weirdo, addicted to helping, currently bored, and not that she was here for suspect manga.     ". . . Then I'll make certain to put you to 'good use'. Follow my lead."
Kukuru	Not realizing that the gator doing silly poses is, in fact, talkign to Rita, Kukuru just claps for her in solidarity before looking over at Phreak when he speaks up. "It iiiis? Oh, that makes things easier, then. There's so many people coming over here..." Indeed, Kukuru's not in any mood to push through people just yet. That'd be impolite (even if they are practically mosh pitting her around). Before she can start turning, however, his question about being on camera grabs her attention again with a curious eyebrow raise, then a giggle and a quick nod. "Oh, suuure. I've been on plenty of cameras alraedy today, you know? Although I'm supposed to be working, too..." Chat? Hi, Kukuru? Blinking slowly in confusion at first, she lets out a pleasantly surprised 'oooh' as she sees the text moving by and holds her hands forward in a double peace sign with a big ol' smile on. "Oh! He-llo theeere~ 'Squeeze me to'...? 'Mommy'?" Not having learned her lesson from just a week ago, chat gets the briefest glimpse of a gleefully wide-eyed Kukuru clapping her hands over her mouth just before Phreak turns the feed off. "Aww.. Bye byeeee! They seemed so nice~"
Razz	Phreak proffers Razz a hand, which the clown takes. "I wasn't on a camera, I was on these boxes!" they say in response to the query, grinning like it was the funniest reply in the world. "But yes, that's fine. Hello everyone!" they say to chat. Right after, Razz turns and beams all the way up at Casey. "Oohhh, a gator, that's a challenge! Coming right up!" From their detached sleeves, they produce three long green balloons and put the open ends in their mouth. Then, in a stunning display of lung capacity from one so scrawny and short, inflates all three in a single exhaled breath. The sound of frantic squeaking follows as they begin to knot them into a shape.     At this moment, Echolalia approaches from the convention's rather robust martial arts section (they even have an amateur MMA circuit attending and doing matches!) and Razz beams up at them. "Oh thank goodness, a live model! It's been a while since I've seen a gator." They hold their thumb up to the costumed girl, tongue sticking out like an artist measuring a model's proportions before resuming work on the balloon animal. Phreak tries his ploy backed by Kukuru and Razz says, "Oh no sir, ma'am (good to see you again), leave these to me! Someone left some nasty garbage lying around, I'll dispose of it later!" And then, in a big leap, they retake their seat atop the boxes, still folding balloons into an elongated shape. However, they suddenly flinch as Rita's tendril touch them, squeezing the animal too hard and popping two of the balloons! "Oh! I'm so sorry, this usually never happens. One moment, I'll make another." A fresh attempt is made as they think back at Rita. ""Miss Rita? Where are you? Nothing is wrong, I'm just drawing a crowd! Don't worry, I can handle them. I'm an expert!"     Ishirou begins their descent with intent to clear the area. And certainly, people around the entrance do make space. But people on higher floors rush the windows, taking pictures on what they think is a very expensive, high-quality cosplay. Lilian's approach with the dragged-along Petra makes people start murmuring, those who recognized her starting to realize this might be a real Situation. Cameras and phones are coming out, when suddenly...     "SISTER!!! I thought I recognized you!" booms a voice. Pushing through the crowd is an absolute gorilla of a man, black hair pulled into a strict topknot and a large faded scar extending from his forehead to cover his left eye. He is wearing a bright pink shirt tight over his musculature that bears the visage of a posing idol, and carrying a tote bag that also has her image. With no fear he approaches Lilian and claps a hand over her shoulder. "You're here to see Takada-chan's show aren't you? I knew you were a woman of fine taste," Aoi Todo says, a sentimental smile on his face.
Razz	Finally, someone from Ma-con-bre makes it through the crowds. But it's not one of the agents. A tall, thin man, with slicked black hair, yellow sunglasses, a red jacket over a white top with a star design and faded jeans. "Hey, clown-around-town! How about you hop off those boxes and head back to your circus before I make you?!" He pulls a device from his pocket, a plastic sword hilt, and with a flick, it extends a thin device that caps at the tip. The length from the hilt to the cap comes alive with a buzzing, dangerous-looking blue light.     "You're a disgrace brother," an Irish-accented voice echoes from the other side of the entrance hall. A man with short-cut brown hair, clad in a grey suit whose jacket has a long train, emerges from the crowd. "You can't even keep a simple retrieval job quiet? Our culprit may be a clown, but you are the whole circus." The broguing man produces his own hilt which immediately extends a blade of light, no emitter required, with four flares coming off the hilt to form a cross-guard.     "Hey, fuck yourself!" the black-haired man retorts. "I'll take that bounty if things are too noisy for your 'standards' again!" The air becomes thick with long-standing animosity with Razz and the clustered Elites in the middle of it all. Eyes are looking everywhere, the situation now a powder keg.     And Razz, of all people, is the one to make it blow.     "Shows over folks! Drive home safe!" they say, holding a small, spherical bomb with a hissing fuse. They toss it to the ground where it explodes into a thick cloud of acrid smoke, smelling strongly of cheap popcorn butter. Rita, from her elevated position, gets the best view of what happens next. Razz leaps from those boxes to the first floor, then casts their bell-ended scarf like a fishing line. It wraps around the stacked boxes and with a big pull, they pull them all up! Catching them in a stack on their back, they break into a run, vanishing into the crowd.     Comms explode immediately, and the Elites are relayed the following information; that Razz has escaped to the first floor, that Ma-con-bre is tracking them, and that the bounty has extended to any Elites that have tried to interfere with their retrieval. They even have names and faces, thanks to everyone converging on Razz's position.
Kukuru	Between Phreak telling Kukuru that the stuff she was pretending to look for is actually on the other side of the convention center and Razz telling her that these crates are just garbage, it's not all that hard to convince Kukuru that the lie is the truth and she's in the wrong area completely. "Is iiiit? Oh, that's great to hear. It's real important to get rid of garbage so nobody gets sick or hurt, mhm... Especially with children around!" She affirms with a gentle smile to the young girl, beaming a bit more at Razz's apparent dedication to protecting the kids. Echolalia not actually being part of Razz's show does confuse her a little bit, but not as much as seeing Lilian draggin PEtra along while people start bringing out cameras. Her head droops to the side slightly, and she taps a finger to her chin. "Lilian? Petra? Are you doing photoshoots, toooo?" She giggles, pauses, then forces herself to stop grinning like a herself. "Oh, wait... No, I'm supposed to be working today. I'll take pictures with you both later!" Kukuru's looking ready to move again, too, when the shouts from various greasy-looking fellows grab her attention next. Pushing her glasses back up onto her face as she looks from the black-haired man to the brown-haired man, it takes Kukuru quite a bit to try and follow what they're going on about until... "Heeey. Language, mister! There's children around here." She scolds the black-haired man while gesturing at the girl from earlier with one hand and pantomiming zipping her own mouth shut with the other, looking more displeased than she ever has since... Well, since last week. Before that goes anywhere, though, Razz spreads the scent of popcorn butter through the area, and Kukuru doesn't recoil in the slightest. No, she's loving that smell, and even her soured mood can't stay that way around the smell of food. "Mm... Ah, that's better. Now, what say we enjoy some snacks and relax, okaaaay?" She suggests loudly while clapping her hands together, looking over to the gorilla known as Aoi Todo. "See, he's got the right idea... There's plenty of fun things to see and do here without getting into shoving matches. Now let's all behave and enjoy the show, or I'll have to be a little firmer with all of you..." And so, mindful of the existence of children in this venue, Kukuru gets to work trying to control the situation with as little bloodshed as possible (After yawning and healing herself through getting smacked around a fair bit). One of the unnamed goons laying into her with a collapsible baton gets grabbed across the face and wrist, then swung around like a human polehammer at a slower-than-usual speed to lay several others out. Kukuru doesn't want to make a mess, after all!
Ishirou	People start gathering on the second floor, and that's not good!  He directs Paladins to the second and higher floors, trying to get the area cleared before things break down.  Of course, before he could make any headway there were people already here.  Kukuru sticks out the most, who waves at him, and he smiles and politely waves back.  He recognizes Phreak but doesn't say anything to him, because he seems focused on the payload.  Or running a livestream.  Or both.   When things (literally) explode, Ishirou moves to get out of the way of the explosive, narrowly doing so with a quick jump and leap closer to the members of crime-con.  With hell breaking loose, Ishirou doesn't immediately transform his armor into something bigger.  They're already in a confined space, so instead he jumps up, aiming to kick off the goons, before scanning the field.   He can ID the goons and others trying to go for Razz's bounty easily enough, but he fires a barrage of black-lighted lasers that cause them to glow when they are hit.  This makes it easier to signal them out of the crowd, which was hopefully being controlled and being shuffled out quickly.
Echolalia	Echolalia is startled by Razz calling her a LIVE MODEL but after a moment she uses her big gator hand to pat against her chest as if like OF COURSE she is the perfect live model. Then, moments afterwards, a tentacle squishes the gatorhead together so that it can wrap around Echolalia's mouth tightly enough to prevent her from talking. "MHHHPHH!" Echolalia kicks around with her feet in the background as Razz works on their balloon animals. Swinging the gator hands wildly, they fail to find where the 'attack' is coming from first. She was caught off guard enough by invisible tentacle that she almost instinctively phases out of the corporeal realm but that would definitely tip off Dysnomia--so it's way more important that she just suffocate-- --not that the tentacle is wrapped around her noseholes. Lady in the vents! I'm under attack! Don't worry, I am speaking to you with the power of... MY MIND! You're still safe, this is just conversation! She starts running back closer to the wall. Rest assured I can still help! They don't know I'm actually NOT a Gator--I am sorry for lying to you, but I am being INCOGNITO right now! This is a disguise!! BUT I AM STILL TRUSTWORTHY OKAY??? She hops up and presses herself against the wall and then throws herself off it, swinging towards a goon and throws her feet bodily into them! Then she turns and kicks their body into another thug going after bounties. The smoke filters through the Gatormask and the gator head looks around a bit. That clown is in danger! We have to protect them so they can continue to bring smiles to the faces of children! She thinks back. She manages to feel out that the tentacle seems to be coming from 'above' her so she tugs--from above like she wants to start climbing it?
Petra Soroka	"Wonderful of you to volunteer, Petra."     "Bwuh--...." Petra's scrabbling attempts to squirm free of the mysterious hand stop even before she consciously recognizes Lilian's voice, by recognizing instinctually the feeling of Lilian's hand pulling her around. She slumps, defeated, getting dragged across the floor over to Razz and away from the sweet light of freedom and boys love merchandise.     "Wagh... I was undercover... Lilian...." Petra, carefully, isn't admitting to being here as an attendee. 'Undercover' is vague enough to potentially justify her being here on purpose, and the backup plan of lying by omission comes to her easily, after the doom of being pulled into Shenanigans had already settled into her heart. "But-- but make me as useful as you want, I'll do it."     Petra's cover story is either enhanced, or undercut, by the brightly colored Boy Best Friends on the bag she's still clutching to her chest, and when she's dumped on the ground by Razz, she tries to surreptitiously fold over the top to cover the image as much as possible. She opens her mouth to consider asking what they're actually *here* for, but suddenly loses confidence in her ability to play that kind of question off as anything except terminally embarrassing and gives up. While the crowd slowly intensifies in excitement, and Petra tries to figure out what the fuck this clown she's met once has to do with the gathering Elites, Petra's attention is caught to the side by Phreak livestreaming Kukuru's tits to an audience she's *also* undercover among, though not at the moment.     As dryly derisive as someone can be after dusting themselves off from being dragged across the con floor one-handed, while holding a bag of softcore yaoi merch, Petra snarks at the camera, "Phreak, you have to be careful. That's probably the first time anyone in your chat's seen a woman in weeks." "Lilian? Petra? Are you doing photoshoots, toooo?"     "Er-- I'm here for..." Petra rapidly comes to the end of her ability to distort the truth at all, and unconsciously squeezes her bag and tugs her facemask up as if it'll magically hide her identity again. "Um. Normal reasons. Like you all." Whatever the reason they're here for *is*. "SISTER!!! I thought I recognized you!"     Wahh--! Loud man! Petra reacts like a dog startled by fireworks, spinning around and drawing her orange-capped gun to raise her metaphorical hackles at whoever's shouting at Lilian. When it turns out he's someone *friendly* instead, she doubtfully frowns and lowers it, still frazzled and sticking close to Lilian.     "'Sister'?" Oh god, is *that* what she has a problem with?
Petra Soroka	And then, finally, there's targets to point her useful hostility at normally. Some strange and rough-and-well-spoken guys with weapons, whose atmosphere of aggression is a welcome change from the nervousness of being told to be useful without knowing exactly who to be useful *at*. And she's also implicitly told that the goal of the mission is getting those boxes-- so when they vanish in a clowd of smoke, she's appropriately shocked!     "Oh no! Our boxes!" Petra gasps, then coughs. She still does not know what's in the boxes, but it doesn't matter, now that all hell's broken loose. Merch bag clutched to her chest with one arm, and orange-capped still-dangerous plastic gun held in the other, Petra fires a few concussive blasts at goons sliding into formation around the group. Punching a hole in the two-goon-deep wall, Petra's quick to push her way past and into the crowd, allowing the flowing mob to carry her in its current over to the stairway up to the floor Razz is on. She grabs onto the railing to drag herself out from the crowd, pulling herself onto the lower steps, and affixes her rifle endpiece onto her gun to scan the panicking crowd.     Idly, Petra wonders. If she'd actually stuck around to see her senior year highschool class yearbook, rather than escaping to space after prom, would she have been in there as voted 'Most Likely To Scan A Crowd Through A Rifle Scope'?     Petra works through her feelings about highschool by squeezing the trigger, launching an electrified bolt of energy at the thin man with the red jacket.
Rita Ma	Rita reflects, when the beam sabers come out, on how many humans and cameras are concentrated here. I hope there isn't too much blood and Stupid, I should've had a bigger lunch drift across her mind.      Simultaneous with the popcorn butter bomb going off, the ceiling vent BANGs open, and a familiar blonde girl plummets amid the shrapnel. She lands light while covering her nose and mouth with a hand, snap-kicks at the first beamsword assassin's hand to try and crush his saber hilt, and spins a hundred and eighty degrees to side-kick at the other with the same goal.      "Please don't kill people at a party!" she coughs out with the clean air she has, with more personal urgency than moral scolding.      When Echolalia tugs on the tentacle, it's already sideways instead of vertical- very sideways now, as Rita plummets over the railing down to the first floor. There's not a force still in the invisible tentacle's absentminded grip, but if Echo doesn't get free, she's gonna get pulled over the edge and drop a story!      With Phreak's runspeed buff adding to Rita's already freakish agility, she fortunately doesn't have to go all-fours-mode to catch up alongside Razz on the first floor. But instead of trying to take the crates away, she calls out:      "Razz! Why are you doing with them?" A goon's baton whistles over her head. She duck-slides and hops back with no discernable loss of momentum. "Do you just need the money? They're dangerous! I want to help you, but..."      She wants really badly to believe that someone who was nice to her has good reasons.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	I wasn't on a camera, I was on these boxes!     "Funny," Phreak says, pointing an index at Razz--it's a little played up for the stream but he did appreciate the glib remark at least a little.     "No way you just did that in one breath," he then marvels at their balloon animal proficiency. "Which is also what I said to your mother last night, chat." 'Mommy'?     "Kukuru, that guy wanted to--" Does he really want to be the one to explain that? The question is written on his face. Phreak, you have to be careful. That's probably the first time anyone in your chat's seen a woman in weeks.      Petra comes in with a save--and one that draws a rare full laugh from him. It's endearing, in a scrungly way--his laugh sounds like a gnome getting away with a cheeky prank. "Heheheyeah! Fuckin' right? Probably hurt themselves shaking the bars." He makes an impression of a hooting chimp. "Ooh! OOH! LADY!"     The amusement is still present at a more muted, resting state, when he returns his attention to Kukuru. "Look--Kukuru, you can do a lot better than that guy, Kukuru. Alright? My chat doesn't wash their asses." A few argumentative messages--none from the chatter in question, likely all sarcastic. "Yes. She could." Someone left some nasty garbage lying around, I'll dispose of it later! hamaCheese: not buying the yapmaxxing lomalco23: lmao just start shooting already lmaojuice: PhreakMald inbound     "Well, why not right now, bud? Sounds dangerous to have laying around." He doesn't give up easily. "I'll do it for you, yeah? Like a favor from one entertainer to the other." psychicumpire: 'entertainer' You're a disgrace brother Hey, fuck yourself!     "Hey, Fuckbert and Sullivan, catch a ride on the HMS Penis and blow--"     Unfortunately, Razz smokebombs before he can finish offering up scintillating repartee. The stream chat lights up as he hacks and coughs, his little feed window showing a reflection of his unflattering expression whilst coughing. His hands dart forward and cojure a hardlight keyboard only he can see, hastily calling forth a sleek hoverboard.     Grey with black deck tape reminiscent of a barcode, with blue trim, its powerful turbines spin up as he climbs atop it and pulls a tight 720, blowing away the smoke. But his eyes don't go to the goons like they should--rather to something that stokes his growing umbrage. psychicumpire: PhreakGasm PhreakGasm PhreakGasm     "I SHOULD NOT BE SEEING PHREAKGASMS IN THE CHAT," he bellows, his face turning an enraged darker shade of grey.     With a contemptuous swipe, he drags the keyboard interface to his peripheral vision, leaning forward to send the hoverboard surging towards the goon with the Irish accent to put the nose directly onto his sword, popping a kickflip at the hilt to drive his knee into the goon's chin just as he crashes into him.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	He mashes out a quick command prompt on the keyboard. Rita and Casey both see little AR prompts appear--splash screens for his pirated/kludged together combat support software. Focusing on one plays startup music that's somehow both futuristic and nostalgic at once, a techno anthem that sounds like it might've been all over the internet in the early 2000s.     One is a cracked triage program referred to (probably not the original developer's name for it) as 'Dr. Hack n' Quack,' the other a keygen for stolen proactive healthcare services; combined, they pulse big-but-slow and tiny-but-consistent bursts of medical nanites. The third such program is homemade: 'Gridspace Freedom,' which fills the body with a sense of lightness and grace, a partial digitization which untethers the body just enough from physical space to keep it firmly in the world, while enhancing speed and evasiveness considerably.     Phreak's multitasking is at least a little impressive--he manages to pull off a fakie 360 following the impact-and-command-entry, bringing the tail end of the board (and its sharp, spinning turbine blades) whipping around to force a clash with the goon's sword.     "'Shoulda shot them SMH.' ASSHOLE!" Phreak malds, mid-fight. "You don't just SHOOT into a fucking CROWD!"
Petra Soroka	"You don't just SHOOT into a fucking CROWD!"     Phreak's laughter is contagious in the exact same way that a sore throat is, and Petra is particularly susceptible from repeated exposure. Still snickering to herself, elbows and barrel propped up on the slanted railing of the staircase, Petra can't help but keep bantering with chat, even though she only hears them secondhand through Phreak's scolding.     "You don't? Fucking aim better, dude. I'm doing it just fi--" Giggling shakes Petra's aim, and her next shot blasts a scorch mark into the ground besides her target, barely missing the feet of a fleeing civilian. "Please don't kill people at a party!"     Petra falls silent for a few seconds, and then announces, unprompted by anyone, "My gun's, uh, nonlethal, by the way. This isn't bullets. It's just, like, energy blasts."
Lilian Rook	Despite herself, Lilian smiles, just a little, at the comment about a 'live model'. She hasn't historically beeing a circus person, or even particularly a comedy person at all, but that sort of improv working with the audience just strikes her as inherently charming in some way. She clears it off her face in a hurry, picking up on the general current of anxiety, and planning what she intends to do about the funny little clown collateral. She's just begun staring at Petra sort of Meaningfully while Razz inflates three balloons in one breath, when--     'SISTER!!!'     "Todo?!"     Lilian blurts it out before she even thinks. For the short period she's still clutching Petra's collar, her free hand tips her sunglasses down as if to double check that her eyes are working right.     For a second, year-and-a-half-later Lilian, a little older and significantly less mentally ill, meets Todo's gaze with unvarnished, nostalgic surprise. Then she shoves her sunglasses right back up and jumps to attention when his hand claps onto her shoulder, glancing left and right and clutching her bag to her body.     'You're here to see Takada-chan's show aren't you? I knew you were a woman of fine taste'     "Takada Nobuko? The performance and the h--" Lilian freezes too late. Her longstanding fixation on memorizing everything about the theatre she is deploying to has backfired in some strange and upsetting way that she can vaguely see the shape of, but refuses to consider. "A-ah, I'm actually here on work. Primarily." she says, deeply unconvincingly in that paparazzi deflector outfit and a convention bag in her hand.     "But-- No, I didn't think to expect you at all. Goodness, how long has it been? Did you put on even more muscle?" Nope. Too late. Now she's suckered into the glittery-eyed charm of a little serendipity moment like this one. "If you have time to spend here, then I can tell you've been hard at work~ Not that I'd expect any less, mind you. It's not often I remember a name and a face like yours, considering!" Lilian says, animatedly, to the only other person with a Cool Facial Scar in the area. "I wonder if it'll be enough~? You wouldn't believe what's happened over here-- no no, if we have the time after the show, I'd love to catch up and tell you all about it! Let you judge for yourself, no? I certainly remember your abilities of assessment being rather formidable." Thus Lilian enters the phase of talking to some strange fucking man so animatedly that she releases Petra's collar. She needs a hand to shake with.     ''Sister'?'     "Oh, Petra. Right." Lilian says, suddenly remembering she exists. Stepping to the side to open up another visual avenue, she says "This is Todo Aoi. We worked together on a joint operation for a few days once before. You don't need to worry about him. Despite what you might think, he's extremely reliable, if you can--"     'Hey, clown-around-town! How about you hop off those boxes and head back to your circus before I make you?!'     "Oh for fuck's--"     'Shows over folks! Drive home safe!'     Lilian vanishes from the explosive smoke cloud; quick to move just ahead of being hit rather than make it obvious how she left; but she has no means of actually seeing through it, not clearing it without harming thirty some people. Shielding her face with her sleeve, sunglasses back in her pocket, she calls out "Petra! Get on that clown if it kills you! You don't have to secure the cargo yourself, just get close!" for reasons that only remain vague for the four seconds it takes her to say "Todo! If you want to catch that show, focus on the most rancid snarl of energy you can imagine as she moves around! We'll do it like we did last time!"
Lilian Rook	Rita is here? Kukuru is just a spin of the wheel between help and liability, but Lilian doesn't feel comfortable ordering her on the spot. Phreak is likely a problem case, so Lilian combines two into one and 'shouts',     §Rita? We're not going to have trouble if we come to blows with the smugglers and assassins, correct? Work with whatever the big bastard in the idol t-shirt asks for-- you two are the ones I'm relying on if it comes to an all-out fight with professional bounty hunters. Kukuru will listen to you, so tell her to prioritize civilian casualties first and foremost.§     "Paladins Chevalier!" Lilian calls out entirely unnecessarily as she shoulders back out of the crowd and into the assembling goon swarm. "Your pride or your bones; pick one!" comes out next as she scans in on where Ishirou is firing marker beams and ploughs into the encirclement, aiming to punch through it with a dazzling sequence of stop-stitched hand to hand strikes and break out onto the first floor in Ishirou's direction before the enemy can press in further. "Ishirou! Tag all targets with a threat level and give me a live feed! Aoi! Don't think and don't ask; use 'that' whenever it'll work!"     As she circles by the same landing on another level, Lilian bellows out "AND YOU!" at the arguing pair of men, throwing out a finger for emphasis as she runs by, and belting out "Lord stir a foot from heaven and boot your ass down to hell!" in Connacht accent for one.
Kukuru	"Phreak, you have to be careful. That's probably the first time anyone in your chat's seen a woman in weeks." "Look--Kukuru, you can do a lot better than that guy, Kukuru. Alright? My chat doesn't wash their asses." At first, Kukuru was enthused by the notion of more people wanting her to adopt them. With memories of what happened at that harbor last week still fresh in her mind, however, her initial joy is quickly replaced by an uncharacteristically cold aura. If Phreak's feed happens to swing her way, chat will still see Kukuru smiling! Just in a far more controlled way that's visibly the bare minimum to count as a polite smile while practically radiating disgust. "Oh... I see. Please tell this chat person to never do that again." "Er-- I'm here for... Um. Normal reasons. Like you all." Wait. Petra's not in the Concord. If she's here for the same reason, though, that means... It's time for Kukuru's mood to bounce right back into her usual sleepy airheaded pleasantness! "Ohhh... You're here to help Angela, then. Aw, you're such a hard worker~ Aaaand-" Her eyebrow raises slightly at seeing the image on the bag, and then she giggles again shortly afterwards. "-a great friend, too, making sure she's never short on new reading materials." "Please don't kill people at a party!" "My gun's, uh, nonlethal, by the way." Between her own assumptions about Petra's reason for being at the convention and realizing Rita's here, Kukuru's mood jumps right back up to where it was prior to the realization from moments ago. "He-llo, Rita! Oh, don't you worry about that. I can get them good as new after we get eeeveryone settled down." Kukuru does not elaborate on what exactly she means by that.
Petra Soroka	"Ohhh... You're here to help Angela, then."     Petra stares at Kukuru for a few seconds, and then blankly processes why she'd suggest that she's out here buying BL webcomic physical copies for Angela. "Huh? Reading? What? There's nothing in this bag. It's a prop, for-- for disguising." "Oh, Petra. Right. This is Todo Aoi."     When Petra's collar is released so that Lilian can shake hands with Todo, she lets out a little 'puh' and steps closer to keep herself glued to Lilian's side. Seeing Lilian so animatedly excited to see someone melts away her possessiveness quickly though, and she's raising her hand to cheerfully wave and introduce herself when the bomb goes off. "Petra! Get on that clown if it kills you!"     "Oh!" Petra fumbles her gun so hard that she almost drops it, immediately pivoting on the ball of her foot to follow after Razz and slamming her shin into the next step up. She hisses in pain, falls to all fours rather than succumbing to the urge to stop and whine and scurries up a few stairs until the throbbing subsided enough to walk normally.     "Yup! Yup. On it."     Petra twists the Silver FullBottle out of the bottom of her transteam gun, wheeling around on the upper floor like a dowsing rod to point herself in the direction of the receeding clown. With a flick of her thumb, she pops the cap on the bottle, and a tendril of smooth metal stretches up to wrap around the exposed ductwork in the ceiling to yank Petra over the heads of the crowd.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	My gun's, uh, nonlethal, by the way. This isn't bullets. It's just, like, energy blasts.     "It's nonlethal, guys," says Phreak flatly, playing to Petra's bit. "Don't worry about it. It's nonlethal. Yeah. Nonlethal."     "But, seriously, mine aren't," he says, dropping the bit.     "'If you hit somebody then just heal them, fivehead.'" Phreak's chat is apprently speedrunning the past fifteen years of factional history--and Razz isn't even here to see it and feel vindicated for their choice of nonallegiance. "Yeah? So if I hold you up at gunpoint for 20 dollars and then pay you back later, we're cool, right? That's what you just said, hamaCheese. Yes it is. That's exactly what you just implied, bro." Petra! Get on that clown if it kills you! You don't have to secure the cargo yourself, just get close!     Don't know the clown, don't trust 'em. Best case scenario is we get that shit and have it in the back pocket.     His eyes flick towards Kukuru. No way I'm letting Kukuru's clubhouse fucks touch it. Don't wanna hear how it's actually great that some supervillain dick used it to fuck the next Quicknest full of craters.     Next, to Petra. Lilian's beta orbiter... Well. Wouldn't be *terrible* if the Paladins got it. Breaking even, if that happens.     "Alright, prove it, hotshot," Phreak says, transitioning to radio as she grapnels out of immediate auditory range. "Catch that clown dick, and I'll wear whatever you want on stream for a month. I'll even make it easier for you," Petra gets 'Gridspace Freedom' too, that movement-speed and evasion-enchancing program.
Petra Soroka	"Catch that clown dick, and I'll wear whatever you want on stream for a month. I'll even make it easier for you,"     Last time Petra was able to decide what a boy wore, he died. This time, Petra can't be so uncreatively boorish as to put Phreak in a maid outfit on stream-- in the interceding year since Ishirou's fashion show, she's come to admit that she can't feign attraction to men anymore, but the power of the artifact clutched in the paper convention bag in her arms grants her determination beyond the simple impulses of the flesh.     "You just sealed your fucking fate, dude. It's so over for you."
Razz	"Hey, I'll say whatever I fu-" the red-jacketed man starts to say, before he notices it was Kukuru who said. Immediately, the retort vanishes from his minds and lips as he stares blatantly at her chest, drawing another disparaging sigh from the grey-suited man "Absolutely no social grace. I apologize on behalf of our bloodline ma'am." He gives Phreak a sour look, and was about to retort when Razz's smoke bomb goes off.     The violence immediately escalates as several suited goons rush the smoke-clouded area, having missed that Razz has already made their vertical escape. Rita erupts from the vents, catching the beam sabre-bearing men off-guard. She successfully kicks their weapons from their hands, but the besuited man has enough presence of mind to catch it with his other hand, just in time for Phreak to kickflip off it and drive a knee into his chin. He grunts and falls back, prompting the red-jacketed man to burst out laughing. These swiftly turn into screams when an elevated Petra blasts him with lightning, sending him convulsing to the ground. His brother fares better, managing to parry Phreak's follow-up, eyes narrowing in concentration.     Lilian's orders capture Todo's attention, and his face splits into a sharp grin. "It's never boring with you around Sister!" He places his hands on his chest, as if preparing to rip his shirt off, but stops, looks down at who is on it, and then instead quickly pulls it off, neatly folds it, and tucks it into his tote bag. "We'll get this done before the show begins! I insist that you join me there!"
Razz	Ishirou takes out several of the goons from his elevated position, those that push through his shots now bright, obvious targets. Lilian's furious time-stitched combos make quick work of several of them as Kukuru grabs one and swings him like the baton he swung at her, taking out several others. Echolalia, even when grappled and controlled, is able to get off a sick dropkick on one, causing others to back off, immediately aware of how much worse it looks for you to get your ass kicked by someone in a silly costume.     But Lilian's fears come to pass, as the professionals kick into gear.     Ishirou is first. A sharp crack, the sound of breaking glass. A sniper's round is accelerating towards him, fired from the top floor of the convention centre.     Echolalia is approached by... the mole-themed mascot that was with that little girl who got a balloon crown from Razz? They place a hand on her shoulder and say, "Don't scare the children. They don't like seeing the scary mascot beating people. Normally, it's the other way around." And then, they grip down tight and hurl her, one-handed, towards the merchant's alley of the convention, leaping after them!     Kukuru is suddenly approached by someone in plain clothes, a baseball cap pulled low over their face. "Lady Kukuru, I'm with the Concord. Some of our agents were discovered and beaten by Ma-con-bre staff. Their condition is critical. Please, help them." When she follows along, the man leads her to a Staff Only door, punches in the keycode, and opens it for her. While his back is turned, she can briefly see what looks like a barcode tattoo on the back of his neck. "Through here." Once she passes through, he follows, closing the door behind him with one hand, and drawing a silenced pistol with the other which he points at the back of her head and fires.     The Irishman rallies against Phreak, pushing him back and twirling his beam sabre. "You embarrassed me in front of a countrywoman, boy," he hisses. Balls of plasma erupt from his blade, all of them flying at Phreak as the assassin leaps into the air, kicks off the railing from the floor above, and comes down on the hacker like a meteor.     As Lilian makes her ascent, someone appears before her. A Japanese man, clad in a steely blue kimono and hakama, cinched loosely with a white sash. His hair is shoulder length, and in his hand is a katana in a wooden sheath. "Dame Commander Rook," he greets her formally with a bow. "I am Goemon Ishikawa the 13th. I have followed your career with great interested, and had desired to meet you. Present circumstances demand that I take my chance. Before you pursue your quarry, I ask that you duel me." He draws that katana and holds it out, eyes narrow and sharp, before crossing the distance between them in an instant, bringing the katana down in a smooth, practiced, lethal arc.     As Petra gives chase to Razz, she's just in time to see Rita catch up to them and catch snippets of their dialogue. "Hm? No, nothing about money. I just wanted to dispose of this garbage!" As they talk, someone appears before them. Tall and bulbous, clad in black robes, wearing an obviously fake glasses, nose, and moustache combo. The air hisses as a flurry of strikes lash out at all three, a flurry that Rita would be intimately familiar with.     "Nuruhuhuhuhu~ While I'm always glad to see a fellow disciple of tentacles, I must insist that you turn those boxes over to me. I have no interest in the bounty on your lives, however." Several bulbous tentacles emerge from their robes, hovering menacingly in the air, poised to strike.
Echolalia	By the point that Rita is running off and dragging Echolalia behind her, Echolalia realizes that Rita Ma may in fact be Rita Ma. "MHPHH..!" She exclaims as she's pulled around by he tentacle. And gravity. She ends up having to run backward across the side of the wall as she plummes alongside them, periodically hopping to avoid crashing into something. She can't REACH UP to grab the tentacles and pull herself free because she has mascot arms right now otherwise she probably would! She could tear free easily and do this, but that would probably ruin her plans! No, she has to just play along! Oh that's sick. Echolalia has to say of Rita's own combat technique. And then attempts to spam her with telepathic messages because she can't really speak. 'Your moves are amazing! Who is your master?? What's your school??? Can we be friends?????' ''Paladins Chevalier! Your pride or your bones!'' Echolalia says, "Mmph!" in response. The translation of this is probably a protest of wanting both pride AND bones. ''Don't scare the children.'' "Mmpph!!" Echolalia protests in frustration before the mole, again unexpectedly because WHY--chucks her through the air to the MERCHANT ALLEY. Echolalia can barely deal with being quiet to begin with and this is the last straw. A pair of large vibrant green wings burst out of the back of the Gator Mascot costume and she floats through the air. She can't let Rita's invisible tentacles suffer just because she got thrown by sudden tugs and the like. She gently lowers the tentacle around her mouth. "I should've known...you're a mole...!" Echolalia says. "But I have to...catch a clown, I think? So I can't let you stop us or hurt Rita I already promised to help her!" The fact that Rita is plenty capable to take care of herself doesn't seem relevant to her. Then she helpfully tugs the tentacle back up so it's covering her mouth again. "Mmphh!" Since she already revealed the wings she might as well reveal a little more. Rather than fight with fist, foot, or even claw-- --A tree suddenly bursts out of the ground underneath the Mole's puffy stuffy body. "Mmph Mphhhh... Mmph MMPHHH!" Echolalia says.
Ishirou	Thanks to Lilian's orders, Ishirou's senses are as far spread as possible, which is why when the sniper aims for Ishirou and fires, Ishirou is moving.  The bullet strikes where he is, inches away from his head.  That would have been devastating, if not deadly for him.  On the network, people are getting updates about the relative strength and danger of the people they're facing.   However, there remains a sniper high up, and Ishirou transforms into the flight armor and flies up towards them.  He ejects when he gets close enough in an attempt to try and bullrush them, and knock them to the ground so that they'll stop firing live rounds into the crowd.   With that he attempts to hold the person with electromagnetic force, attempting to pin them to the ground and restrain them before any more shots can be fired, but given the strength of the people coming out of the woodwork... it seems like it was going to be a long fight either way.  "Stop whatever it is you think you are doing!  Whatever they are paying you isn't worth what will happen to you if you kill a Paladin." Okay maybe that was pushing it, he was killed by Petra and she's a super villain extraodinaire now.
Rita Ma	"We're not going to have trouble if we come to blows with the smugglers and assassins, correct?"      "Right, Ms. Rook. My friends' interest is just the safe disposal of the artifacts. But Razz seemed really nice, too..."      And a second later: "Ms. Kukuru, could you please keep an eye on ordinary people getting hurt? The less blood, the better. I think you're the only one who can heal them." That's not the main reason she cares about people's lives, but Kukuru seems like she'll respond better if it's made Rita-personal!      All that while scrambling after Razz, weaving around security goons and dragging Echolalia behind her. Finally Rita seems to notice that last fact, casting a baffled glance back. "I'm sorry! I- I'm really not cool at all! I didn't earn it, I just--"      Her thoughts are interrupted by a tentacle skimming right next to her head. !! A series of ground-skimming tch-tch-tchh blinding hops evade each of the yellow guy's striking limbs in turn, but she has to give up ground to do it.      "While I'm always glad to see a fellow disciple of tentacles..."      "Sorry, you must have me mixed up with someone else," Rita says, eyes adrenaline-wide. Can he see the invisible one? Or does he just know about me? Can't get past. Can't outmatch him if I'm focused on keeping them cloaked. Her cell phone buzzes Ishirou-sent warnings about how dangerous he is.      Rita cuts the knot by 'telekinetically' throwing Echolalia at him. That'll buy a second. "Sorry!! Please do your best!"      Over the course of the next five seconds, cloaked tentacles stab security cameras, turn off cell phones, and slam down security shutters.      Only when she's created an arena of anonymity does Rita's entire body split along a spiral seam like a mummy. What-used-to-be skin and clothes and hair peel off the pallid mutant girl beneath and unfurl as cruel organic edges. Finally she can parry tentacle-to-tentacle, whickering and air-slicing in barely-visible whipcracks. Finally, relief.      "I'm really sorry. I don't really know how not to kill people. You seem nice. Please just go."
Petra Soroka	"Nuruhuhuhuhu~ While I'm always glad to see a fellow disciple of tentacles, I must insist that you turn those boxes over to me."     Being so focused on her mission-- assigned to her primarily by Lilian's command, but spurred on by the opportunity to stir more shit with Phreak-- comes with some downsides. Petra's innate difficulty in focusing on people's faces, particularly strangers and the unwashed hordes, is only worsened when she's intently calculating her path down from the rafters to the boxes as quickly as possible. Combined with a cloak that covers his body, a wig to plausibly justify the shape of his big round head, and a pure, honed disinterest in the personhood of her obstacles to fulfilling Lilian's orders, Petra....     "Huh? Tentacles?" ... is face to face with not one, but two, normal humans without tentacles.     Petra twists in the air, planting her feet against a ceiling beam to kick and backflip down in front of Razz. Her morphmetal appendage unravels from the rafter, coiling down to bob and snake lazily from its resting point in the bottle in Petra's hand, and she looks down at it to abruptly come to the most wrong realization available to her in this moment.     "*Oh*! *Tentacles*! Well, no, not really, but--" Still, the way it whips around faster than her arms could move to block Koro-sensei's own tentacles from smashing into her *feels* pretty tentacle-like.     Petra skids backwards, hand pressed to the ground, and reaches out her other hand to Razz from too far away to genuinely be trying to grab them. With a pleading edge to her voice, Petra calls out to them, asking them to... "Hey, Razz! Those boxes... the ones you have... can you... tell me what the fuck is in them?? I have *no* clue what I'm supposed to be chasing after!"     Told or not, the boxes remain her goal, not Koro-sensei. Her transteam gun is disassembled down to handgun size, and she directs a few concussive bolts of energy at her tentacled bespectacled foe to give herself just enough leeway to throw herself at the boxes even if Razz is still carrying them. Her morphmetal splashes down onto her hand and forearm, losing surface tension just long enough to coat it like a gauntlet, and then wriggles its way into a near-unbreakably strong grip on the boxes with Petra simply attached to it, along for the ride.     This means that she's being helplessly dragged along for a second time tonight. Thankfully, at least, Rita's probably got her biggest source of danger occupied. Thanks, Rita!
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	You just sealed your fucking fate, dude. It's so over for you. lomalco23: LMAO LET'S GO psychicumpire: COPE STREAM INBOUND BOYS hamaCheese has been muted for 30 minutes. Reasion: Union dickriding     The parry shifts Phreak's concentration mix--more of it is placed on the man in the grey suit than on his chat or Petra. *Chat is now in Emote-Only Mode.     The screen on his wrist displays a zoomed-out third person perspective, perfect for capturing the fight. He might be more normal than his chat, but he's still contentbrained even with a double digit viewership.     Faced with an opponent he has to take more seriously, he slides one foot to the back of the board, tilting it and sliding into a manual, slowly approaching the man in the grey jacket with his front foot high on the opposite end. Within range of the saber, a shift at the front of his back foot guns the throttle, while his other foot slams reverse--the forward turbine blasts the goon with hot air, while the rear maintains his posisiton and he keeps his balance perfectly.     A space follows like the tension before a sword quickdraw or an old-west shootout, before he leans forward and kicks the rear of the board with his back foot, sending it straight for the goon's ankle--he might not be 'Bercilak' strong, but Phreak *is* chromed up and it'll hurt.      Adjusting his stance effortlessly, Phreak circles him back to back, lifting his legs for an ollie into a low-flying grab meant to scoop over the obvious reverse thrust--he guns the throttle again in a back-to-back tackle, shoving the other brother into a Funko display pyramid and clearing the collapsing crest with a backflip, his feet perfectly planted on the board throughout-- lmaojuice: Clap eggsalad: HyperClap threeslashchump: TinaPog      --and flowing seamlessly as he descends into a partial turn to put his back to the cheap avalanche of figures, bending at the knees to put his front hand through his legs, grab the middle point of the board heelside, and tweak it backwards. Gunning the throttle again, he holds it in a rapid spin, one hand in the air for balance as he expertly uses his board's turbines to make the cheap plastic crap into fastball projectiles for any further oncoming goons.      "Are we done? Or do I have to start hitting you dicks with the shit from the adult booths?"
Kukuru	"Huh? Reading? What? There's nothing in this bag. It's a prop, for-- for disguising." "Is iiit? Oh, don't worry about it, then." Kukuru giggles lightly, almost forgetting that she's still swinging someone around by the face. "I'll pick up some for her later from that big artsy area. I wonder if she'll like the picture books more..." "Hey, I'll say whatever I fu-" :eyes: "I apologize on behalf of our bloodline ma'am." Despite her earlier disgust at Phreak's chat, Kukuru actually looks far more pleased with the grey-suited man and even the red-jacketed man, staring and all. "Oh, it's okaaay. If he learns to behave and not to speak like that around kids, then that's what really matters." She replies to Grey Suit first, then crosses her arms under her chest while turning to Red Jacket. "And don't be like Phreak's chat, okay?" Without elaborating on what that last part even means, Kukuru gets her mind back on the job! After hurling the battered goon into another group, she takes a moment to catch her breath and is about to reach for another when someone comes up from nearby. She's about to warn him about the danger in the area, too, but the way he approaches her without any sign of fear nor hostility already gives her a hint about who he is. His words, too, confirm her suspicions: He's a Concord ally! A new one, perhaps, if she can't recognize him. "Ohh? He-llo, dear. Oh my... Thanks for letting me know. Mhm, mhm, lead the waaaay..." Yawning lightly as she follows him without question, Kukuru gives a gentle thwack to another unnamed face in passing on the way to the locked room. While the capped man unlocks the door, she notices the barcode on the back of his head, and thoughts start to race through her head. Did his pranks pull a mean prank on him? Did he come from the supermarket? Is he a rescue that the Concord found? There's not enough time to find out before he gets that door open. Kukuru stops by the door to place a hand on his shoulder gently with a a relieved and grateful smile crossing her face. "Thank you, dearie. Keep up the good work, and stay safe. It's getting real crazy out there, you know?" Peering around the inside of the room, she squints a bit as she murmurs aloud to herself. "Now let's seeee... Where-" Kukuru's interrupted by a bullet to the back of the head without realizing where it came from. She stays down while bleeding all over the floor, too, but the bleeding stops sooner than it should. Her nanites go ham right inside her skull, mending bone and brain matter with an intense blue glow. Eventually, she gasps out a pained breath and scrambles along the slippery floor back onto her feet, looking around rapidly while pressing a hand against the back of her head. "I think you're the only one who can heal them." Immediately, Kukuru feels a chill running through her spine as she starts to piece together what happened. She glances around again, taking note of the lack of dead or injured in that room along with the blood only being her own. "I hope so, Rita. There's someone real dangerous here that can-" Before she can finish trying to project her thoughts at Rita/just sort of assuming she can hear her thoughts this way, Kukuru spots the man with the cap from earlier. She rushes right at him, and the only sign that she's not trying to kill him is a fearful rather than angry or otherwise hostile look on her face. The other sign she's not trying to hurt him (on purpose) is that she's trying to pull him away from the walls while glancing around rapidly and staring right at the walls themselves. "Be careful! There's someone inside the walls stealing bodies!" She declares, taking that conclusion to the logical extreme by rushing for/through the door, trying to drag her capped 'friend' to safety along the way. She can fix him up if he gets banged up on the way, as long as she makes sure he doesn't get body snatched.
Lilian Rook	Whilst the people on the floor below are gathering themselves for another round, Lilian is already on the breakaway. Overshooting the top of the stairs, she kicks off the handrail and lands well behind the crowd gathered at the balcony, then pivots and sprints into the gallery to cut off Razz up ahead. She zigzags twice at the sound of the gunshot from above, stepping erratically to throw off potential aim on her back, then pivots hard and vaults over a checkstand to her left, barrelling through the least crowded lane she can find.     §It's fine. Even with these many collateral targets, even in these shoes, the clown doesn't seem to be faster than me in a straightaway. I'll pull close enough to bring Todo up, then use what I've got readed to close the gap again and surround him-- her--? the target, then--§     'Dame Commander Rook'     Lilian starts to alter her path, leaning just to the outside of the walkway to weave around the stranger without slowing down; then abrubtly turns aside to catch the corner with her hand and dig her heels into the floor tiles to stop short. A cosplayer doing a bit is hardly unusual here, but a bow authentic enough for her to recognize isn't that.     'I am Goemon Ishikawa the 13th. I have followed your career with great interested, and had desired to meet you. Present circumstances demand that I take my chance. Before you pursue your quarry, I ask that you duel me.'     Her hand drops to her side, reaching for the holster at her thigh. "Flattering, really, but that sounds as if I lose even if I win." Lilian says. Her thumb just brushes the safety pin when steel clears saya. Lilian's eyes widen in the fraction of an instant it takes Goemon to approach, and--                 -----[stop]-----     By some blind, thoughtless reflex, Lilian releases her hold on Winter Crow and tears Night Mist's pendant from under her blouse. In the molten instant she has to act, carefully released without disrupting what she'll use later, an arc of inky smoke follows her hands from breast to blade as--                 -----[start]-----     --steel crashes against steel, silver edge on jet black flat. Lilian's dress shoes screech against the tile. The heels crack under her. Night Mist presses so close to flat against her neck that her tense exhale fogs on one side of Goemon's sword and her eyes reflect in the other.     "Well then. You're quite good." Lilian hisses out against the edge of her sword, sliding her shoulder under the guard in the instant of flux she has. "Enough that you have no business chasing down shortcuts for sale. You must've thought about this for some time."     §Don't get carried away. You already should have opened fire at point blank. If you get sucked into a protracted duel with him, you won't be able to chase the clown, follow Ishirou's tracking, set up Todo, and secure the cargo at the same time as well. He made you draw your sword on instinct, so . . .§     Lilian shoves back against Goemon, first with her body weight, then with a second, surprise pulse of antigravity magic, aiming to disturb his step and throw his katana back with the crossguard steadied against her upper arm.     §He's tall, but we weigh nearly the same. I'll have the advantage in mass if I can get armoured. He's using a katana, so the centreline is near the spine of the blade-- not easy enough to disarm, and he'll be looking to leverage where he thinks mine is. We have about the same reach; I think his reflexes are a little faster than mine, but he's quite skinny; I'm likely stronger, so--§
Lilian Rook	Pushing her approach, Lilian throws her weight behind what looks like an opportunistic shoulder charge, aiming to overpower Goemon with her heavier weapon-- then she releases her rotational speed from a stop-short, delivering a spinning slash to his side from her lead foot-- one that can launch him up to the next storey for blocking it. She recklessly speeds up through her followup pivot and skips ahead to a lunging hew from above in direct pursuit of him, throwing considerable force in the exact opposite direction of her last attack.     Her advance heel hits the floor, her palm glides down the hilt to the pommel, her grip twists, and her sword snaps sharply parallel with Goemon's katana, glides free of the curve of its spine, and rebounds overhead; where she brings it back down from her opposite shoulder with twice the force, gritting her teeth through the harsh feedback and metallic racket up close. She pushes the offense more, drawing back the hilt to her center mass while attempting to rake the edge across his wrists, and then advances once more with a lunging thrust that she launches with her grip halfway up the naked blade, controlling her push in a steadily Razz-ward direction.     "I decline. Neither of us can fight a duel-- a real duel like this." Lilian fires back between flashes of steel. "I can't afford to spend time on you, or the contraband gets away. And you can't afford to spend time on me, or else-- TODO!!"     Calling out for the effect that she knows well enough by now, Lilian trusts that her point is proven when she ends up waving at Goemon from below instead of above; then back on the same level in the instant Todo capitalizes.     "This happens when you're too persistent! The occasion is important too! The time and place and the vibe! The energy! Don't you get it?!"     §That's all I can spare for a little while. I'll break for the cargo, then if this guy is still giving Aoi trouble, I can hop him to where Petra is; surely he can sense her from here.§
Razz	The mole-costumed person had their guard up, anticipating an attack. But not one from below. The tree launches them, slamming them against the ceiling from where they topple back down, their head rolling away to reveal... a kinda chubby bespectacled man? His greying hair is tied back into a ponytail and a moustache covers their top lip. "Ow... that's impressive," he compliments Echolalia. "You seem nice too. You shouldn't get embroiled in this world. Let me escort you out." But before he can follow that up, Echolalia is pulled away and used as a projectile by Rita, leaving the chubby man on his lonesome.     Meanwhile, on the top floor, Ishirou lands a flying tackle on the man holding a large sniper rifle, sending them both tumbling. His would-be assassin is a tall man with a beard and shoulder-length black hair, clad in a fine black suit a grim countenance on his face. He's pinned, but his mouth moves. "Oh, if I wanted you dead, you would be dead. I know who you are, Ishirou. I knew you were likely here on recon. And now you've thrown your favourable aerial position away. Against orders, by the way. The Dame Commander told you to keep feeding information, but now you're this far from the action. Against me."     While Ishirou is on top, the man's legs entangle with his, and he uses that to lock him in place as he suddenly fights the pininng force to roll over, dragging Ishirou to the ground, and him on top, the electromagnetic force now adding to his weight. From his coat, he produces a handgun, and swiftly fires three shots. One aimed at the diaphragm, second to the sternum, third to the head.     Kukuru catches up to the capped man. If he's surprised at all to see her moving, his face and eyes (cold and hard as the rock that Cain killed Abel with) don't show it. But he does grunt in surprise when she just starts running through the walls, dragging him with her. He grabs her by the head, producing something from his pocket which he slams into her neck. A syringe, filled with something that makes even her body go numb for a moment. "I knew I shouldn't have taken this contract. People like you are hard to deal with," he says coldly, backing away while producing something else from his pocket. A small device, topped with a button. "But I expect you didn't pat yourself down before you revived."     He pushes the button, and a bomb that he secreted onto her person after shooting her detonates violently.
Razz	"Ah, yes, I understand," the tentacled thing says in response to Rita. "These things do tend to make people prejudiced, but don't worry. Given time, your shining heart wi-IYAAAAA?!" His heartwarming teaching moment is interrupted by Echolalia being flung at him. Bringing all his tentacles to bear, he catches her and gently sets her down... leaving him less able to defend against an unfolded Rita's full flurry. "Iyaaaaa! I thought I would have the advantage on speed, but yours are very fast too!" The air becomes discordant with sonic booms as the two collide. "Don't worry, you could never kill me with an attitude like that!"     Petra meanwhile, succeeds on her missing. Grabbing on to Razz's scarf, she draws a "hurk" from the clown as it tightens. "Oh, you were at the show!" they gasp. "The boxes? Just a bunch of garbage, I don't know why everyone wants them!" But, back at the entrance, Todo had been fighting the red-jacketed man (who apparently just started swinging on whoever was around once the shock had warn off), waiting for this moment. "There!" His opponent is launched into a wall of Funkos by Phreak, but leaps back out to wrap his arms around Todo's waist... just as the wall of muscle claps his hands.     In an instant, Petra is no longer clinging to Razz. She is now back at the entrance hall, in the arms of the red-jacketed man. "Hah! I'll take it!" he crows, before arching his back and pulling Petra with him, aiming to slam her into the ground head-first with a German suplex! At the same time, the grey-suited fellow is bombarded with Funkos, an attack legally classified as a warcrime in several universes. He hisses in pain as one catches him in the eye, and flurries his saber to deflect the rest. "I suppose that was very 'poggers' for your parasocial following," he hisses, before leaping high up. Hanging in this gap is a big metal structure consisting of curved girders to imply a globe. It's one of those very corporate art installations that are vaguely aesthetically pleasing and imply something without actually saying anything. Anyway, the grey suit spirals through it, slashing as he goes, creating several lumps of molten steel which he sends flying at Phreak with a flick of his blade, before slashing the wires holding the whole thing up and bringing the rest of it crashing down!     Todo meanwhile, is now the one holding on to Razz. Before the clown can even react to the change, they're getting decked full in the face! They go spiralling through the air, the boxes scattering. One flies at Echolalia's head before landing in her lap, while the other two go flying off the balcony. The radio chatter goes wild, and Todo prepares for a follow-up, when Lilian's voice reaches him. Immediately, he's clapping... and swapping places with Goemon's sheath, bringing him immediately to the duel. Goemon is sweating, but grinning, keeping up with Lilian's multi-pronged assault, but the arrival of a partner throws him off. Everything in this instant, Todo's grin, the way the air sits, might convince her for a second that the gorilla at herside can stop time too. But no, he's just that locked in. His eyes seem to say, "Watch Sister. Behold the fruits of my improvement."     He punches, his fist colliding with the flat of Goemon's katana, and the impact flashes black. The two-pronged assault sends Goemon sliding back with enough force to shred his geta, turning it into a rapid tumble that sends him flying off the balcony.
Echolalia	''I'm really not cool at all! I didn't earn it, I just--'' This tells Echolalia everything she needs to know. Like a true hidden master, she hides her power from the world so it won't be misused. 'Ohhh I get it.' She telepaths back. 'Don't you worry, I totally understand. WINK.' She winks behind her mask but this is not really visible. 'Don't tell anybody I am a telepathic gator either okay? I'm trying to find a lost friend.' "Ehehmhmpmh mmphh---" She says to Sakamoto. "mpphhh phhh... MOHHH?" YOINK! CHUCK! ''Sorry!! Please do your best!'' "Ahahahaha! I always do my best!" ''Don't worry, you could never kill me with an attitude like that.'' "Hey Rita! I'VE GOT A--OW!! WHY???" She sets the box on the floor and puts hre foot on it. "Why did someone throw this at me??" There's a lot of movement going around and she can tell approximately where it came from but she doesn't really have time to worry about BOXES when Rita needs her help against this octopus guy! "Okay NOW I've got a plan!" ECholalia says. 'I'll distract him so you can stop him without killing him okay?'' She understands as well that some secret masters don't want to stain their hands with blood again, obviously, but they might if forced to! She's seen like SO MANY movies that are like that. "You've made one mistake...." She says. "You assumed... that I can't tentacle too..!" She thrusts out both hands and a vine tendril from each hand bursts out of the crocodile's paws and repeatedly try to smack Koro-Sensei around--though, of course, she's REALLY kjust trying to keep him busy for Rita since, like, they seem to have a thing going on here? "And now foot tentacles!" She sends another pair of foot vine-tendrils after Kroo-SEnsei, trying to wrap his lower body up in them.
Ishirou	"Who are yo-" Ishirou says before he's taken down by the man's legs.  He doesn't get very much time before three shots are fired.  Thankfully, his armor is enough to cause them to not quite hit their marks, as well as his squirming and fighting against the other man.   When the final shot for his head is aimed, his VCRS system kicks into overdrive, attempting to take control of the weapon, pointing it towards the ground so that the bullet doesn't get close to his head.  Headshots are no small deal, even with armor to protect himself.  Breathing heavily he finally flips out of his grasp and onto his back.   "Screw you, I didn't disobey her orders.  Stopping a psychopath from shooting into a crowd at your own risk comes before anything..." and with that POD, a small box with arms floats out of the hovering armor unit, charging a beam of energy. It fires, aiming to smash into the gunman, aiming to try and render him unconscious.  Well, it would, but right now Ishirou was more worried about getting out of his gunfighting with someone who was better trained in CQC than he was.
Rita Ma	'Don't tell anybody I am a telepathic gator either okay?'      Amid the Tentacle Clashes, Rita looks off to the side for telepathic communique like she's checking her phone while driving. "Huh? Aren't you a person in a gator suit?"      "... And what does 'wink' mean?!"      "I'm sorry. I don't have a 'shining heart' at all. I think those people out there... saw me just fine. I just don't want to be seen for what I am, sometimes." Just before Echolalia goes in with her vines, Rita feigns an opening, using two tentacles to block one of the Squishy Guy's on her right and leaving her exposed on the left.      Then--      A person-tall beam of light shines from Rita's hand and blasts Koro through the wall of the conference center, in the instant where he's both immobilized and invited to overextend. Whether or not that keeps him down doesn't matter: "Ms. Gator! Make a run for it!"      She re-weaves herself into her ordinary clothes before bursting out through a metal shutter back into the larger fray.      It'd be smart, about now, to start scrambling to secure as many of the crates as she can. She does do a little: covertly, her tentacles disguise one crate of artifacts as a box of shitty vintage comics for a contact to pick up later, and she weaves a fake box wholesale and leaves it near the Squishy Guy Hole just in case he comes back for one.      But her heart isn't in that. Instead . . .
Petra Soroka	"The boxes? Just a bunch of garbage, I don't know why everyone wants them!"     Petra gasps, in between getting bonked against the floor while Razz scampers and drags her along, "But then, why would you--" "Hah! I'll take it!"     "Buh--?!" Suddenly, Petra finds herself in the grasp of the biggest loser here, rather than triumphantly completing the mission that Lilian assigned to her. She kicks at the red-jacketed man's feet, trying fruitlessly to wriggle out of his arms, when she makes the connection that she wasn't, actually, commanded to get the boxes back from Razz. All *Petra* was needed for, was to be a warm body nearby, so that the *real* hero could....     "Whyyyyyyy--?!" Petra whines in despair as she is sacrificially suplexed in a battle she wasn't even present to lose before this moment. She swings her feet forwards to complete her flip, tearing herself out of the red-jacketed man's grapple, but not before her head cracks against the convention center floor. Woozy and disoriented from the teleport, her escape maneuver turns into a sloppy somersault as she just keeps rolling for a bit longer, failing to land properly on her feet.     Petra staggers to her feet and aims her fist at her opponent, morphmetal softening and reforming into a gleaming armblade and gauntlet around her hand. "B-bitch. I'm not just 'good enough'." That isn't actually what he said, he said he'd 'take it', but in a different genre there'd still be cuckoos orbiting Petra's head. "And didn't anyone tell you that it's wrong to lay your hands on a lady-- on a girl?"     Petra's armblade sparks against his beam sword when he's re-armed to match her, blade sliding all the way down its length to her elbow as she closes the distance to swing her fist up into his gut. Rather than throwing a flimsy punch from a moderately athletic young girl, she presses the muzzle of her transteam gun against his solar plexus, having swept it into her palm in the flurry of motion, and pulls the trigger to launch a concussive blast of force into him at point-blank range.     Time seems to slow, as Petra squeezes the trigger of her gun. She thinks to herself, What reason do I really have to be fighting this guy, specifically? My only justification is that I was told that I could trust that guy Lilian likes, and he was fighting this guy before using me as a sacrifical pawn on Lilian's orders, so it's probably correct for me to fight him too. I don't even know what's in those *fucking* boxes! Is that really enough to justify shooting someone, even if it's not with a bullet?     Time snaps back into motion in a pulse of incandescent rage, as she whirls around to face the man fighting Phreak while the red-jacketed man is knocked away. "--Don't *fucking* say 'poggers'!!" To emphasize her point, she thrusts her arm out to her side and fires another shot into the jacketed man without even looking. So much for moral consideration.     "And it's fine and normal to be a little parasocial! Chat, you're not even parasocial anyways, are you? You fucking hate this guy, right?" "Stopping a psychopath from shooting into a crowd . . ."     Petra, instinctively, reacts by shouting at Ishirou too. All is right in the world. "Come *on*, I didn't even do--! Oh, you mean the other guy."
Lilian Rook	Lilian picks out the sound of clapping hands with the priority she would give to a gunshot. Her body answers faster than her brain; same orientation, momentum at rest, in-line with gravity; and she braces herself to leap back into the fight, when she realizes that she hasn't gone anywhere.     Her stare tracks down from the arc of Goemon's blade towards her, moving in slow motion away from the alignment of her guard to where the third person joins them. The detail missing almost makes her hesitate. Eyes widen by fractions of fractions in the instant of the saccade.     §With an inanimate object?! Since when? Did he come that far in such a short time, or was he still hiding more back then?§     For a split second, Lilian's grin joins the two men in battle with her. A moment of fangs-bared intrigue in the hair raising milliseconds before what happens next.     Todo cocks back his arm back and tenses his muscles, and Lilian's sword flickers from guard to strike. At the moment he swings, her blade accelerates just behind him, at crisscrossing overlap. Knuckles collide with steel, tile shatters underfoot, steel strikes their shared enemy's guard; a pulse of fell light runs down the length of Night Mist,  but the flash is all Todo. Lilian's entire body aligns with the followthrough of his swing, adding her force to his, and the last instant of adrenaline-soaked slow-motion hyperfocus gives way to a crash of metal and sinew akin to driving a home run out of the park-- Night Mist swings up all the way over Lilian's back just to prevent falling over, as Goemon goes flying out of the arena.     "Some other time!" she calls out after the samurai as he falls from the balcony, then quickly pivots to face indoors again. Catching her breath for just a second, one hand goes to her radio to phone in "Ishirou! Markerlight! The subject has changed position!", but the other hand plants Night Mist point down in the tile to free itself up for an Arthur Lowell-learned palm slap and fist bump on Todo; in-frame.     "If you can get that box, let's see the show together!" Lilian says, triumphantly, about an idol she's never cared about until right this second. Even after she breaks for one of the two boxes thrown onto the balcony, cheating to get there first aside, she fails to second-guess the sentiment. The only thing she adds is a thumbs-up as she picks up her sword and moves again.     The moment felt so good that she forgot to ask what happened to using Petra. She's probably fine.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	I suppose that was very 'poggers' for your parasocial following.     If I'm this guy, I'm pissed off. Nobody wants to get hit like that in front of an audience. Especially not a professional. But maybe I'm also thinking I'm gonna get my hands on a bounty and find a silver lining. Here it comes--     "Sure, they're loving it now," says Phreak, taking off to weave through the molten metal. The chat goes wild with emotes as one strikes him dead in the shoulder, eliciting a strangled yowl of pain and setting his jacket alight. Healing nanites pulse in agonising one-two to handle it, not nearly as fast as Bercilak's are known to be.     He sheds the jacket and climbs higher, shielding himself with a nose grab that strikes the front turbine and momentarily slags it stuck, sparks flying from it as his board loses altitude and trails acrid smoke. Leaning heelside, he guns the rear turbine and sends it careening for a balcony wall, performing a spark-flying nose grind that shears the molten metal free, popping off the final inch of balcony to jet back into the air.     "But it's parasocial, like you said. It's all weirdos and disasters in there, dude. They know it. I'm their *fucked up* little king," he spits, to the tune of a surge of emotes--some sad, some ecstatic, some sarcastic, as he ducks low and pulls a hand flip to bat away a glob that otherwise would've struck him center mass. He continues, steadily climbing, "When I win," he begins, punctuating it with a whip of his head to avoid another molten shard, "It makes 'em think maybe they can too. And when I lose, it makes 'em feel better about not trying."     The fingers of one hand race across a hardlight keyboard as the other hangs outward for balance, Phreak twisting to fly in reverse, that another glob might merely streak hot across his thigh, rather than straight through it.     "It's been good for teaching me about success, though," he says, level with the globe and closing distance fast as he hits 'enter.'     "In life, you never really have something 'til you can stop working to hold onto it." His physical form loses any sense of human definition, fading out and replaced with a featureless blue wireframe. A light faintly shining within is the only sense that the figure closing on the man in the grey suit is still human. With the vast majority of his corporeal body now digitized and replaced with a virtual placeholder, globs of metal tear through him unabashedly, punching holes clean through the blue polygonal shell. "I used to do what you do, y'know," he offers, his voice slightly bitcrushed. "I was damn good at it too."     With feet to spare between them: "Feeling good about your chances with that bounty on my head, big man?" Phreak's hoverboard crashes turbine first against the well-dressed man's sword hand, the Watchman throttling up the turbine harder and harder until the blades force a release on the grip--or until Phreak uses him as a human halfpipe lip, popping off of his impact point to make a quick flick upwards of the board's nose into the goon's jaw. If there's to be a fall, Phreak sees that there isn't, as his Grid Armor fades and his body returns to the physical world.     Whether that's some sign of growth or just trying not to get banned from another streaming platform is up to the viewer to decide.
Rita Ma	. . .      Rita hops down to wherever Razz's air-spiraling after that heavy punch landed them. If they haven't already made their disappearance, she steps over with a hesitant, halting gentleness.      "Hey. Um."      Are they on the ground? Crouching down, if so, or awkwardly crossing leg-behind-leg if not: "Are you okay, M-- Razz? That really looked like it hurt. I can help a little?"
Kukuru	Even with the imagined danger to herself and the capped man, Kukuru still giggles ticklishly when he grabs her face. She shivers a bit at the syringe jab, too, even being polite enough to try and keep her head and neck relatively still so she doesn't end up dislodging it accidentally. She even chuckles a bit at his comment, somehow still managing not to suspect a thing even though she's already starting to feel her body tense unnaturally. "Aw, thanks, but I can heal myself just fine! Hmmn... Is this your first day, dear? New work can be pretty overwhelming, that's for sure, and especially in this line of work. But... Stick with it, okay? I promise, you'll do jusssshh... Ffff..?" Unexpectedly, Kukuru loses her grip on the capped man as her nanites don't quite keep up with the numbing agent he jabbed into her, causing the green-haired woman to topple over and slide across the convention floor right on her face. She can still hear him just as easily as before, though, and he can see her eyes widening in surprise at his second comment, and just moments before he detonates the bomb. "Pat...? Wait, did-" And then Kukuru gets hit with a point-blank explosion, smashed with enough raw explosive force to pop her off the ground and flip her onto her back. Unlike that gunshot from before, however, she's prepared to weather an attack from an unseen enemy this time, and her nanites are already actively flowing through her. Rather than having to bring her back from the brink of death, Kukuru's nanites just have to adjust output to put her insides back together before she can succumb to those wounds. More importantly, she's still fully aware, and Kukuru still has the memory of what the capped man said fresh at the forefront of her thoughts. The locked room, the missing bodies, the precise strike to the back of her head earlier, and a sudden explosion just after being warned about it... The enemy is watching them remotely! That means she definitely needs to get him out of here, so he's outside of the body-snatcher's visual range! Instead of making her intentions apparent by just leaping at the capped man, however, Kukuru seems to just melt into the ground as a dark portal opens up beneath her. It swallows her whole and disappears without a trace, and it's not until a second cloud appears above her 'friend' that Kukuru comes right back out of it. "Don't worry. You'll be safe after this. Cover your neck, dear." Her hands go for the agent's shoulders, and then she flings him. It's a pretty hard toss, too, like she's trying to hurl him straight out the window right from the middle of the convention center. With any luck, he'll be safe as she starts tearing ass through the the convention, jogging around in that bloody outfit in her renewed search for the culprit!
Razz	"Hey! Those aren't tentacles! Those are vines, or perhaps ferns! I won't let you disparage tentacles!" the blobby fellow says to Echolalia, shifting to parry her vines, and giving Rita all the opening she needs. "Oh, you really shouldn't say such things about y-YOU CAN DO THAT TOO?!" he exclaims, before being blasted clean through a wall, giving the two a chance to escape, right after Rita disguises the box that hit Echolalia and sets up a fake. The other two went off the balcony, no time to go looking. She checks on Razz, who sits up, jester cap askew and with a very swollen cheek. "Mmhm! Ahm fwine!" they murmur around it, eyes spinning. They get up and start making for the exit, but they can barely walk in a straight line. They'll need the help.     Back in the entrance hall, Petra manages to regain a fighting stance against Red Jacket, clashing with his beam katana as he grins at her. "Trust me lady, if you were a guy and killed the ladies I killed, you would be all for gender equality too!" But he's so caught up in the clash, he misses the gun being pressed again him, and is once again sent convulsing against the ground. Her sudden shot at her brother gets parried, a wry grin on his face. "That's not very 'pog champ' of you ma'am."     Phreak gives a frank examination on what it means to be a doompilled streamer. The grey-suited man smiles grimly and says, "Well, I'll give you credit for self-awareness. More than him anyway." His head gestures at his brother, currently fighting Petra, only for his eyes to bug out as Phreak becomes intangible, rocketing up at him as he descends and smashing his jaw in again after a brief clash. He crashes down and grimaces, producing a phone and checking the screen. "Ach, I'll cut my losses. A fine day to you both. Feel free to kick my brother while he's down." And with that, he vanishes into the fleeing crowd.     Lilian makes a promise; she'll come to the concert if he retrieves a box. Todo grins and says, "I'll meet you there," before clapping his hands. In an instant, one of the boxes is in front of Lilian, and in the distance, she can see a man in a red jacket with big ears being airlifted by Todo's uppercut. Presumably, he just Boogie Woogie'd into his arms, and was less than pleased. However, he only makes the second-highest forced ascension here today, as Kukuru heals through being blown up, grabs the capped man hard enough that his cap falls off, revealing his bald head, and launches him out of the convention centre entirely. A full 30 seconds later, he crashes down into the nearest bay.     In the end, Ma-con-bre retrieved none of the boxes. The fake made by Rita was grabbed, only to dissolve into tentacles later. Lilian was able to take the second back to base for securing. And the third was never found. Reviewing the camera footage later would reveal that a female mime was seen lurking around where it landed before those cameras were all suddenly destroyed by unknown means. Their pieces were found on the floor, smashed and scorched, as if they had been blown up, but no detonation was heard or observed by witnesses.
Rita Ma	Rita feels a little bad about blowing away that squishy fellow after an emotional moment. But not that bad. Her guilty conscience can, anyway, be eased through clown care.      Her arm drapes around Razz's shoulders to steady them on their way out, like a drunk. Just bruises. No bleeding. She gently adjusts their jester cap, as if it were a part of their body desperately needing re-location, and then her hand glows from within. "This'll help. Can I?" And if they let her transfer the glow to her body, it does.      Awkwardly, as they step outside, she fumbles for something to try and make the spoiled convention better. "... Could you show me how you make those little puffed-up animals, Razz? I'd like that a lot."
Razz	Securing the jester cap seems to help centre Razz. Their walk becomes a little straighter with Rita's help. The glow is accepted, and they breathe a little easier.     "Oh, balloon animals? Sure! They're not that hard, you just need be a liiiiitle gentle when you're folding the-OH NO! I never gave the tall lady her gator! I hope I run into her again..."