Scene #8351: FATHER

Owner	Pose
Rowdyruff Boys	The CITY of TOWNSVILLE... Will not be having time for a meeting with Headmaster (coughintohands) today! The moment the group arrives for their scheduled meeting they find the school utterly surrounded by a band of pink-furred humanoids with little sphere-tipped antennae! A large portion of them are wearing blue overalls and work boots, though there's a few that stand out from the crowd for their suit-and-tie apparel or some other splash of color and fashion that doesn't seem the norm within the group. All of them are holding signs. The exact nature of the signs seem unclear as to whether or not they are a part of a PROTEST or a STRIKE. Ordinarily, conflicts within Townsville seem to have SOME room for talking it out, but... Not today. This bunch are too riled up! In fact, the first thing anybody is liable to see is a pile of XORDS smoldering in the largest street just outside Headmaster (coughintohands)'s school, along with the trio of HYPER RANGERS sitting in wheelchairs with casts on their legs (each of them definitely has had their knee broken) down the street staring balefully at the 'protest'. The very instant anyone gets within around 10 meters of the protest, the protest leader gives a shout that might as well be a war cry, "SCAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABS!" The amount of rationality present in these people is sufficiently low that it is entirely futile to explain to them that they're not striking workers, and thus nobody approaching is scabs. One of them grows to about twice its usual mass, pink fur turning a hot, furious red, and hurls a car down the street. Several similar actions follow; though it is noteworthy that the impact force of this isn't as much as it LOOKS like. For some reason they're a lot more property-destructive than people-destructive and random civilians hit by thrown cars end up with comical, gnarly bruises rather than being crushed into watermelon chunks. This explains some of the cars embedded in the sides of nearby office buildings. ... You're definitely not making your meeting this week.
Rowdyruff Boys	ELSEWHERE... Butch blunders into the Utonium household through an open window, dressed in a tank top that no longer really qualifies as a shirt, black-and-green boxing shorts with matching running shoes, and carrying two 2-gallon tubs along with a big folder. One has been labeled ICE CREAM and the other PAIN. He wanders over to the couch, swinging both tubs onto the coffee table in front of Buttercup. "I wasn't sure if you'd want ice cream or to punch things so I brought two gallons of ice cream and two gallons of tiger balm and every horror movie I own," he says, simply.
Remee Halcyon	THE LIBRARY OF TOWNSVILLE "Okay, I can see the book. It's on the to-be-returned shelf right behind you. Could you just... finish checking it in, and then I have it on the reserve list - Remee Halcyon, yes. ... Why yes, I have my ID right here - right... um. Um, okay so my ID's in my other bag-" Remee will get that book one day. Maybe. After that, she practically wanders right into the picket line. "Oh - sorry, I didn't see-" "- I don't even work here!" she protests. "I-" She gets beaned by a car. "... Okay, you all need to take a breather and calm down!" She reaches into her gear bag, and throws out a weighted net. Hopefully, it'll trip up a decent amount of the overexcited protestors!
Futaba Nuki	Hair? Check. Suit? Check. Weapons in case things go sour? Check. Focus? Eh. Futaba's still reeling some after what she's heard over the past few days, so her head isn't completely in there as she appraoches the school. She's prepared for the worst, at least, but she's expecting anything that does happen to happen IN the school rather than outside of it. She very nearly gets clipped by one of those tossed cars in her absentmindedness, too, only narrowly evading the flying vehicle by turning her entire body into soup for a moment to slip beneath it. Sadly, her fancy black scarf now looks like something ran over it. Somehow, though, the rest of her suit is fine. "Oh, what? Come on, I just got this thing!" Shouting back at the furred things screaming about scabs, the tanuki lets out an irritated groan as she approaches the reddest, angriest one while transforming her suit out for her usual ninja-y gear with the lack of sleeves and big red scarf instead of the fancy black one. "Hey, you! What the heck's going on here? You could really hurt someone doing that!" As she chides the big one, Futaba herself grows to double her usual size to match the red furred person, arms coming in to start grappling and trying to toss them up into the air before spinning them around like some kind of pizza prep routine. "If you're gonna beat up anyone, then beat up the people that aren't paying you enough or whatever!"
Timespace Riders	ARMOR TIME! D-D-D-DECADE! WOW! Immovable! Implacable! Futurering Archwolf! ARCHWOLF! Two armored fighters ('hero' only probably applies to the pink one) stand in the street. One, Kamen Rider Zi-O, in the aforementioned pink, black and white, bears streamlined, yet blocky armor a barcode motif on the helmet, as well as spanning the breastplate and pauldrons. "I have a good feeling about this," says Zi-O, index finger held triumphantly parallel to his helmet as an automobile is sent flying towards him. It is interposed by his retainer Woz. Kamen Rider Woz wears black armor over a silver bodysuit, with a strong 'wolf' motif present. The breastplate and pauldrons resemble the heads of three howling, black-furred wolves, while his boots and gauntlets sport claws that look more than just for show. His helmet is the most strongly defined of the wolf motifs, implying a position of authority over the others on his armor. The hour and minute hands of his usually smartwatch-themed helmet--his 'antennae'--even resemble pointed ears. Woz grunts with effort--but the car is stopped dead in its tracks when it collides with him, wrapping around him and rolling off. When he steps forward, the pavement is cracked, from where claws in his boots dug into the ground. Zi-O charges in, leaping over his retainer to wade into combat with the 'strike,' focusing on using his strength to exhaust, with indirect body blows meant to bowl them overor otherwise corral them. "Why are you striking?" he asks. He doesn't seem to parse that they might not know that!
Petra Soroka	Finally, Petra can go to Townsville on a Saturday morning, help the Powerpuffs resolve the issue with Father, and maybe earn some respect from the true, genuine heroes that she looks up to, all without the stress of tolerating Ishirou's nagging voice. Except Ishirou is dead, Buttercup knows Petra killed him, and for some reason Petra's vision can't focus on anything anymore. Petra shows up anyways, not bothering to distance herself from the Kana this week. The mech flies lazily into the city, patches of its hull splotched with blackened explosive residue, and hovers over the swarm of PROTESTERS apathetically. It moves to settle down next to the broken Xords, and then Petra drops out to the street without any theatrics. It doesn't look like she's changed her clothes since killing Ishirou. Her hair is scorched at the ends, as is her jacket. Her boots are the wrong size, her scarf is gone, exposing the handprints on her neck, her overalls are dirty except in some unnervingly blood splatter-shaped spots, where they're bleached and damaged. When she hits the ground, she stands still with her eyes closed for a few seconds, then half-opens them with a neutral, exhausted expression. She glances at the pile of Xords, stirred by a moment of curiosity to what the third animal form is, then walks to the school, barely processing that the furry humanoids are trying to block her way. This unfocused trudging, head down and hands in pockets, means that when one of them rips up a chunk of street to throw into a nearby window, Petra isn't watching her feet. Damaged road crumbles into a crater when she steps on it, and she falls down along with chunks of asphalt, getting scraped up. Looking balefully upwards to street level, Petra briefly considers the practicality of simply having the Kana deal with the crowd for her. One shot, and it's done. Remee and Futaba's presence, belatedly registering in her mind, makes her consider it for a moment longer. No, she doesn't want to, actually. In fact, after firing one shot downwards to launch out of the crater, Petra splits her shotgun in two, and flips both revolvers around in her hands. Using the guns as effectively short batons, Petra just tries to batter the protesters down. No regard or attention is given to preventing property damage, and similarly little is given to acknowledging the other Elites present.
Powerpuff Girls	Buttercup Utonium has recused herself today. She is at the Utonium residence, sitting on the couch, staring at the dark screen of the television. Her loafing slouch holds a tub of chocolate ice cream between her pajama'ed legs, a scooper gleaming in the fully melted soup of forgotten ice cream. A black tank top bunches at the slouching bend of her stomach, and the remote is exactly too far away from her on the rug that her toes can't reach. Alternatingly with staring at the TV, her eyes grow tired, and she leans her head back with a groan, exhaling and trying to figure out how she feels without adding a few 'natural' disasters to this unnatural pit. She remains this way until her neck gets sore, and she cants back forward to stare at the TV. The door slams open, because Butch Jojo doesn't really do 'normally' opening doors, but the Utonium household has the Professor's (patented!) Unslammable Door and attached facing frame. With friction-controlled bearings on tungsten rods and a titanium frame, it only wails in full operation as it yaws open, framing the Jojo and his ice creams in a halo of light. He approaches, placing the tub of CREAM and PAIN on the coffee table before the dissociating Puff, and declares his truth. "Oh, fresh ice cream." She sighs ragged, looking up thankfully towards Butch and reaching for the tub closest to her. Switching spoons she takes a full scoop of the fresh stuff and pops the metal scoop into her mouth. Her eyes well up, wet. Deep emotions, and also-- "This is tiger balm." Buttercup blecks, halfway between crying and laughing, and a hundred percent using her old ice cream container to spit out the icyhot she had mistaken for icycream. --- MEANWHILE --- Blossom and Bubbles have arrived in matching outfits to the meeting with THE HEADMASTER (coughintohands), black with a bolero jacket of color. Blossom's red ribbon and scarlet jacket-vest jangle with gold zippers and buckles, and her outfit features black pants, while Bubbles has a leggings-skirt combo and a blue jacket-vest with silver zippers and buckles, and two short cerulean hair ribbons. Both stare with like incredulity at the protest going on, made worse by-- "Billy?!" Blossom calls, to the already-hospitalized Hyper Ranger Red, and their smouldering Xords behind them. "What are they even protesting?" She continues, to the trio, as if for-profit private religious indoctrination school wasn't protestable. In the City of Townsville (as well as the State of California), it was unfortunately a little normal to have to deal with the sprawl of charter indoctrination. The voting blocs were minority but very consistent! Bubbles has to duck and dodge signs, focusing on the fury of the Fuzzies before her. "I'm sure there's a peaceful solution we can reach by talking!" The blue Puff calls, and then takes an uprooted stop-sign right to the face, crumpling the metal across her nose and knocking her half-over. Bubbles sweetly smiles, rising back up as if nothing happened, despite her face's impression into the sign. "Okay! Rude. I'm still sure we can talk, but maybe after some de-escalation!" She calls, before disappearing in a SKRR! of superspeed to gather up all the signs and protesting implements guessing full well what will happen if a Fuzzy was deprived of Their Property. Having seized several protest implements, Bubbles does the only reasonable thing and just tosses them all up into the air randomly, causing a rain of mildly dangerous signs and confusion.
Remee Halcyon	Other people end up feuding with the protestors. Some of them are being a bit rough - it's not unwarranted, maybe, and the protestors look like they could take a few hits without any permanent damage, maybe, but... still. Remee purses her lips as she considers, and then blinks. Oh, right. She has that set up, as of this morning. Might as well bust it out. She grabs her cell phone and hits speeddial 3. "Bring the hunting van around. Tranquilizer package, open lending." She's barely put her phone back away before an unmarked cargo van skids around the corner from seemingly out of nowhere, coming to a stop next to her. The side panels of the van flip open - revealing an array of tranqulizer ammo that'll fit most equipment, nets similar to the ones she carries, hunting bolas, and a small selection of other non-lethal weaponry.
Rowdyruff Boys	A large contingent of the Lumpkins Family is netted. They're immensely confused by this, being more used to using nets THEMSELVES in some form. Eventually one of them at the edges manages to pull a pocket knife out and cut the net, beginning the process of freeing the chunk of them there. One of them responds to this by cutting a piece of the net, improvising a bola out of it and some pieces out of a nearby wrecked car, and throws it right back at Remee. "GIT OUT, SCABS!" One of the smaller Lumpkins shouts back at Futaba, enlarging to approximately normal size and trying to tackle her at the calves. "WE DON'T TALK TO PIGS!" A suited Lumpkins responds to Zi-O, attempting to bludgeon him with a tire iron. A relatively peaceful Lumpkins is filming the entire thing on a shitty cell phone. The silence from Petra is, at least, welcome. The expectations, less so. She's familiar enough with Fuzzy Lumpkins from her shows, and it's not as if they're super-beings quite LIKE the Powerpuff Girls, but they're not trivial opponents if you forego your super armor, and even with it they'd be a bit of a problem. They're easier to threaten than to bludgeon! Nevertheless she advances into the crowd, bruising and aggravating away from her... Fuzzy Lumpkins comes at her with a crooked, already-heavily-broken banjo, swinging it at her midsection. A FEW METERS AWAY, Billy just shrugs at Blossom. "Something about corruption of values, I don't know. They started talking about striking afterwards. They don't even work here." Several Fuzzies are deprived of their property. Every single one of them enter their RAGE mode and chase after Bubbles, until the various signs are discarded. This causes a LOT of confusion and chaos as they scramble to get a hold of what's theirs in a great fit of in-fighting and object-hurling. It's like capture the flag, but there are thirty flags, and all of them have a keen awareness of which specific one is theirs. A lot of confusion, though, Bubbles is decently adjacent to. She'll want to get clear.
Remee Halcyon	Remee is, honestly, pretty tempted to just aim at Petra. Fixing her mistakes there is at least somewhat more important than dealing with Townsville's problems, at least for now. ... Later. Remee will go after Petra later, quietly. No need to make a big spectacle out of it, like Petra seems to do for everything. ... And did Woz just transform into Futureing Archwolf? Remee, distracted by multiple things, entirely misses the improvised bola coming her way. "Hey!" Down she goes, her legs tied up. It's not nearly enough to prevent her from grabbing her rifle - now with some fresh tranquilizer rounds loaded in. "We keep telling you - we're not scabs and we're not pigs!" She takes aim. A few well placed darts should quiet some of them down, at least a bit. Otherwise, they'll wear themselves out eventually... right?
Futaba Nuki	It's the time-based Riders! Using a form Futaba doesn't recognize, even, but that won't stop her from gawking at them through the whole transformation process. "New suit? Nice theming! So do you build those yourselves, or is it a thing you find?" It takes until Blossom shows up and addresses Billy that Futaba even realizes how messed up her looks, and there's a part of her that wants to interrogate him, too. She'll leave that for later, though, since Bubbles is there, and she never had a really good chance to try and make a good impression on her yet. "Hey, Miss Bubbles! Good thinking. I'll round them up while...!" Petra's there, too, causing Futaba's attention to waver. Her's first instinct is to greet her, but she knows what happened. It's awkward, to say the least, and what she realy wants to do right after seeing her is try and find out what exactly went down, but... Priorities. Immediate priorities, even, as one of the Lumpkins crashes into Futaba's enlarged legs. She wobbles briefly, more from surprise than actually losing her balance, then glances over to realize what's just happened. "Whoa, hey! We're not scabs. We might even be able to help you out, if you tell us what's going on!" Without actually moving the rest of her body, Futaba's legs turn into a tendril-y mass, taking a cue from Remee's net and that improvised bola to try and bind up that Lumpkin at her legs with all of her weird-looking leg mass. The net-legs quickly turn into more of a sludgy mass, though, leaving their head uncovered while Futaba turns the rest of her upper-body into a similarly sludgy substance. All things considered, she probably looks more like one of the monsters that Townsville's seen too many times in the past. This time, though, the Futaba-monster is on their side as she stretches herself out to try and pin down a whole crowd of those Lumpkins, extending parts of herself like a freaky umbrella or something.
Petra Soroka	The approaching unmarked white van full of tranquilizers that Remee called arrives on scene in the corner of Petra's perception, and for a moment, she stiffens up. Remee is a hunter, after all, and the prey animal instinctually notices the threat. She backs up to the edge of the crowd, keeping both the Lumpkins and Remee in her field of view. Fuzzy swings his banjo at her, and without a thought, Petra flips her revolver back around, slices through the neck, and spears the bayonet through the severed piece. In the same motion, she raises her revolver to the sky and fires, blasting the banjo fragment up into the air. Meanwhile, her attention is diverted by the presence of Blossom and Bubbles, and the absence of Buttercup. Did Buttercup tell them? If she didn't, should she pretend that nothing happened? If she does that, and then they go home and hear it from Buttercup, won't they hate her forever? Petra doesn't come to any conclusion. She feels sick, and her vision blurs to the point that the Puffs are practically just blurs of their colors. The sea of pink in front of her increasingly gets on her nerves, and it's only by keeping her mind focused on the presence of the Puffs that Petra doesn't reach into her pocket to tap the button that'll end the headache. Instead, she just keeps grimly going, startling the Lumpkins with shots over their head and using their momentary distraction to bludgeon them with her guns.
Timespace Riders	"Good," says Zi-O, bringing up a forearm to block the tire iron. "Neither do I!" he doesn't know the slang. "At least, not that I know of!" He slides around the impact, his hand traveling up the length of the suited Lumpkins' arm to shove him hard at the shoulder, while his leg crosses behind the suit's leg. It's an attempt to take him to ground and hopefully wind him with the sudden impact! "First you compare us to the easily exploited, then to the common constabulary," Woz calls over to the suited Lumpkins, striding up to Remee's van. "Be grateful my Demon King is more forgiving than I am." He procures a polearm from the van--specifically, a modernized mancatcher, meant to entangle limbs and clothing with its shape and slight barbs. The retainer strides into the thick of combat, twirling the polearm--for the sake of the Lumpkins recording this on the phone, of course. While Bubbles creates a free-for-all, Woz gangs up on the suited Lumpkins that Zi-O has attempted to bring to ground, using the tines of the polearm to pin him to the ground by the wrist. "Look at your comrades," he says, nodding towards the melee Bubbles stirred up. "Fighting amongst each other like an unruly mob. You have no demands, no plan, and no organization. Your slogans are uninspired, your tactics nonexistent. To be waylaid by a farce such as this is an insult on its own."
Powerpuff Girls	Bubbles knows how to deal with Fuzzies, understands how they work. This isn't to say she 'gets' them - but she can touch the strangenesses of the antenna'ed folk and get a feeling for their experience. Also, the several dozen Fuzzy episodes over the years had been pretty indicative of what worked. Their ire was fully directed, and so if you weren't in the line of fire, if you were involved and a part of it, the mob was just Mildly Dangerous. Bubbles had gotten over her fear and misunderstanding of the Fuzzies when Buttercup had taken her to a mosh pit concert. Then, then she had gotten it. So while she's roughed around with, Bubbles vibes and gets out her own phone to take pictures! The Pigpen-esque aura of combat and furious property finding is quite dangerous to onlookers, but the blue Puff is mostly immune to incidentally swung fists. Mostly. "Yeah! And do a cool pose too!" Bubbles calls to Futaba, having partially lost herself to the mob mentality as well. She's having fun though! Blossom crosses her arms and tilts her head, scoffing and adopting a 'seriously?' stance. Reds do this. "Corruption of values? Wait, is your school not a union school? Fuzzies don't like that, and the Lumpkinsters don't negotiate - they've got a particular idea on family rights!" And, also, personal items, violent fist-throwing, and labor value. More than Billy and the Hyper Ranger's Hyper Hospitalization, though, Petra and her loud gunshots and violent bonkage draw Blossom's attention. One moment, Petra is swinging at a Fuzzy and being assaulted by a broken banjo, and the next Blossom is there besides the 'Yellow', smoking a smear of ruby effort-power from her barely-a-blur towards. "Buttercup won't talk about it. But I can hear her, even if I can't hear you." Her voice is patient, but her body language tells a different story - preparaed. "I'd like to hear it from you, Petra. What happened?"
Petra Soroka	"...even if I can't hear you." Petra stiffens up immediately, shivering when Blossom appears next to her. "...It's not hard. To hear me. It's normal to ask. That's all." Instinctually, Petra tries to shove her hand into her pocket and slouch, but the reflex conflicts with her dull, uninspired dispatching of the Lumpkins. She fumbles for a moment, then plaintively whines, "I really, really don't know if you want that. I just-- I just really, really..." There's not any way out of this, is there? Petra will have to look Blossom Utonium in the eyes and tell her that she murdered someone, and she can't look guilty or upset or regretful about it, because that's just pathetic. The words slip out of her, small and desperate. "Could it be after? After this? For now, can we just fight together until this is all dealt with?" There's no verbal emphasis on that 'we', but it feels very intentional.
Rowdyruff Boys	Even when they are, elephant tranquilizers won't be COMFORTABLY enough. The first one makes contact and the Lumpkins hit turns and lumbers towards her. He (she?) is too close by the time it takes effect enough for them to start slowing down. The second one that gets hit is bigger, and moves in the way of a tranquilizer aimed at a third. As a point of fact, it grabs the darts from its body, crack them open, and-- and drink it, what the hell? The second falls over after zoning out for a moment. The third, spared by the second, picks up a parking meter, splits it open, and swings it in a wide arc that sends a violent spray of change towards Remee. This is obnoxious and maybe painful (but probably not terribly so), but what's really a nuisance is the crowd of onlookers who rush the quarters on the ground around her and get in the way. "HOW MANY TIMES DO WE GOTS TO SAY THAT WE DON'T TALK TO PIGS!" exclaims the most violent fuzzy lumpkins of all, who turns a jug of moonshine into a molotov cocktail and tosses it beneath the weirdly gelatinous Futaba. Petra finds herself in a relatively strange situation. The banjo breaks, and then... stops being broken. It pulls itself back together in its strange, bent shape. "HAW! YOU CAN'T BREAK MY BANJO ANYMORE, MY BUDDY HIM MADE IT IMMORTAL!" Fuzzy Lumpkins explains, as Petra moves on to the other Lumpkins clan members. Fuzzy begins to play the DEVIL'S BANJO, a godawful wavelength of sound rippling through the crowd. His relatives all simultaneously get out ear plugs and plug their ears, surrendering some attack and defense opportunities to do so. Zi-O sweeps the SUITED LUMPKINS to the ground, who simply looks more angry and rips out of his suit up-sizing into his rage form. The ones that Woz is corraling are more tame because they're too busy putting in their ear plugs. Which is how a few other Fuzzies go down, in the meantime... Contrary to what might be expected, Fuzzy Lumpkins can play the banjo competently, and he DOES this time. The problem is that his Townsville-oriented rendition of the DEVIL WENT DOWN TO GEORGIA temporarily summons a small horde of flames and demons that chase about and harass people, usually in more comical than dangerous ways, but certainly with the occasional threat of catching fire (even if the fire doesn't last long enough to cause proper fatal injuries). The little imps that go along with this may or may not steal small things from people if given the opportunity.
Rowdyruff Boys	ELSEWHERE... "What, really?" Butch wonders aloud at Buttercup, immediately taking a bite of the tiger balm, despite having been the one to label it and bring it and observe the ongoing problem. He makes a face. The next X minutes will be dedicated by both of them to no longer tasting tiger balm.
Powerpuff Girls	Blossom had skipped the intervening animation cels of her approach in a red blur to skip to this point, to get Petra to tell her Now, and not later, to really face this without putting it off one more minute because each minute rolled the dice on disaster. Having to dodge Fuzzy Lumpkins himself is, at least, well within her power. "I'm pretty good at listening - but you're closed off, Petra. And that's fine. But: I'm asking you, then." The Red returns, surviving Petra's whine with the same adeptness that she handles picket sign attacks of opportunity and near-calls with loose change. "I'd-" Blossom begins, but is cut off. The Devil's Banjo doesn't get close to hit her when it's swung, but when it's twanged-- Cacophony, chaos, and the earsplitting mixing of a performance you can't shout over even with breath like a blizzard and a voice like the boom of thunder. And trying to shout over it anyway, like she was at one of Buttercup's clubs, wouldn't do. So Petra got her way, again, because of the Devil's own luck. MEANWHILE: Bubbles Utonium is in the partially-netted, partially-tranqued, partially-piled, partially-'nuki mayhem'd pile of Lumpkins. . . rocking out. Remembering what to do based entirely off of the vibe of a moshpit and just rolling with it full-force turns the blue Puff into a jumpy-throwy-hold-her-owny mutual Pit Pile Wall Of Death. It's fine! The Fuzzies are, well, soft and fuzzy. Mostly it's a lot of very kinetic bouncing.
Remee Halcyon	Oh no! Spare change! A billionaire's only weakness! ... Or, no, wait, that's silver. Does the money here use silver? It's probably more silver-nickel alloy, right? "I'm telling you - I'm not a pig! I'm literally a wolf!" ... What's with drinking the tranquilizer, anyway? That can't possibly be healthy. Or tasty. Right? Or is it like bear spray where if you ignore the direction and spray it around your campsite (as opposed to spraying it directly at an approaching bear) it'll actually attract bears who are curious about the scent? Remee manages to hold on, going to aim for one more shot at the large one, while he's dealing with some of the other elites here. Entirely by coincidence, just because it presents the biggest target from her prone position, the dart will embed in Fuzzy's left buttcheek if it hits.
Futaba Nuki	"A cool pose? Of course!" Finding some of her own usual vibes coming back thanks to Bubbles' infectious personality, Futaba waves some of those higher sludgy tendrils in the air, as though she thinks that might actually reassure the people of the town rather than frighten them at the sight of a big blob waving its limbs around. She tops that waving off with keeping one in front of her 'face' and the other held outwards like some kind of pose, but it doesn't really look like anything. And then the violent fuzzy calls her a pig while hurling flaming pain at her. "I'm not one of those, either! I'm a tanuki! A-" Right, she should move out of the way of that molotov. Futaba pulls back a bit, but the spilling fuel from that jug covers quite a bit more space than she expected. She lets out a startled yelp as the flames lick at her... Whatever all that gunk is, shrinking back first before spilling outwards into a pool of water to douse the fires with herself before they can spread too far. "Say it as many times as you want! Or even better..." The water around the most violent Lumpkin swirls around before converging on their feet in a great water spout, aiming to launch them into the air for what would be a terrible fall if they weren't caught by... "Tell you granny. What's going on?" Futaba badly imitates the voice of an old lady as she reforms in the shape of what she'd imagine an ancient Lumpkin to look like: Gray-pink fur, coke-bottle glasses, and a tall beehive-y hairstyle. She still has the leaf on her forehead and a big gold sash around her grandma dress, though, which might break the illusion somewhat.
Petra Soroka	Even with the Devil's Banjo cutting short the conversation that Petra didn't want to have, she still doesn't look happy. Of course, there's a lot of reasons why she doesn't look happy, but she doesn't look pleased by the interruption either. It doesn't count if Blossom is forced to tolerate her for a few more minutes. That doesn't make them allies for just a little longer, it makes the tension still clog the air around Petra, suffocating her. She doesn't get a nod, or an acknowledgement, or last words, or resolution, just the choking suspension of 'more time'. And that's even worse than having no time at all. Petra flinches at the scattered fires much more strongly than she does at the literal demons. She scrambles back, distancing herself from the banjo-playing Fuzzy, and bats the imps away with her guns. Once sufficiently away from the stinging, dry air and smoke irritating her already-painful burns on her skin and face, she takes shots at each of the imps, then at the strings of the banjo. It won't break permanently, but it'll at least be unplayable for a second, probably.
Timespace Riders	"Whoa!! Don't you think this is getting a little out of hand?!" Zi-O asks of the formerly-intact suited, hulked-out Lumpkins, struggling to contain him. The imps, summoned by the banjo, startle him into a backwards stumble, causing him to let the now-enraged Lumpkins free! What's worse, he's quickly surrounded by little imps! RIDE HEISABER! A straight sword with a broad blade and clock hands below the crossguard appears in Zi-O's hands. He turns the hands of the clock, and the sword announces: HEY! DRIVE! Crackling white energy builds up along the blade, and Zi-O clears space for himself with a low leg sweep, before planting his foot, advancing, shifting his posture and swinging hip to shoulder. The barcode on his armor flashes, replaced with a white text crawl reading DUAL TIME BREAK at the apex of his swing. Three swings are made, in total--each one summons a hardlight tire--one orange and tined to resemble flame, one green and spiked, the third purple and bladed like a shuriken. The tires fly through the imps, slamming into them and revving with explosive force. Meanwhile, Woz 'hmphs,' halting in his efforts to corral the more reserved Lumpkins, in favor of turning his attentions to Fuzzy. "I am unsurprised to hear that he is involved," says Woz with a slight air of irritation. The mancatcher is twirled again--and again, it's likely so that the Lumpkins with the phone has something cool to see. "Your instrument may be unbreakable, but the power of the Archwolf is immovable." Woz strides through the chaos. Blows from Lumpkins and fire from imps certainly strike him, as indicated by the sprays of sparks from his armor and the grunts of effort below. But none of them budge him, one way or the other. After Petra strikes, Woz leaps in, mashing the button on his silver belt, opening and closing the lever-gate on the side to queue up a finishing strike. BEYOND THE TIME! Electric tendrils arc and crawl across Woz's forearm, in burning orange. That same energy travels to his leg, and he springs forward, sailing past Fuzzy as his arm shoots out in a surprise clothesline. Attempting to lock Fuzzy's neck in the crook of his elbow for a flying drop, the energy discharges in a violent explosion when Woz lands. ARCHWOLF EXPLOSION!
Rowdyruff Boys	Thankfully, there's just not a lot of real violence going on here. That is to say, the stakes are low. Except ONE stake. The one stake that mattered for the day... "Well, Granny, that there school--" The Lumpkins family member that 'granny' is talking to explains that they have some sort of ambiguous problem with the curriculum. It actually ends up being semi-valid because all of the children that go to this school end up coming out all Delightful-ized, and they think it's creepy. There aren't that many students, though. They don't have anybody going there. Why would they? It's a creepy school. The younger Lumpkins actively get bored of the protest and get sucked into Bubbles's mosh pit nonsense. This is, as she observes, fairly harmless though still disruptive of everything here, causing a segment of the 'protest' to become useless and disorganized. This is especially so because of the ear plugs. The ones doing mosh pit things take their ear plugs out. The money here DOES use silver, which may actually help to explain why it hurt so damn much for Remee. As it happens, this version of the United States is moderately shiny compared to its more mundane counterparts, and while it still has many many many MANY problems, small things like the currency still being backed by actual things and content is more prevalent. Also people actually use dollar coins, instead of petulantly refusing to because it is too (Insert foreign scapegoat of choice). Petra shoots the strings on the devil's banjo. Fuzzy frowns, stops playing, and scratches his head. He considers it for a long moment, and then SMASHES it on the ground. It comes back together. Rather than resuming however, Fuzzy scratches his head and goes, "WHY YOU KIDS SO DEAD SET ON SEEIN' HEADMASTER KOFFINTOHANS?" "AND WHAT IN TARNATION IS AN ARCHW--" Fuzzy is promptly hissatsu'd. His banjo is broken again in the resulting TOKU EXPLOSION, but immediately revitalizes itself-- again. And the one stake that mattered today... Was the stake of meeting with said Headmaster. A butler-looking older man in a tuxedo walks outside. He clears his throat, "Master Koffintohans will now be out for lunch. You will have to reschedule your appointment. Please remember to be on time in the future." The butler turns, and walks inside, leaving the group to the discomfort of a bunch of variably incapacitated Lumpkins family members, approaching construction contractors getting to work on fixing this part of the city, and each other's (uncomfortable) company. And SO, THE DAY WAS DELAYED BY... PUNCTUALITY!
Futaba Nuki	Even Futaba's surprised that the Lumpkin bought it! She's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, though, and she rocks the fuzzy thing gently in her arms while listening to what's going on in the school. It's incredibly weird, to say the least, and it gives her a fair bit to actually once it's time to meet with the Headmaster. ...Right! The meeting with the headmaster. After setting the Lumpkin down lightly and leaving him with a light pat on the antenna things, the still-transformed Futaba turns just in time to see a mosh pit and a twice exploding banjo. She's not sure what to make of any of that, but it's impressive looking, so she pops off anyway! And remembers to transform back into her usual humanoid form, too. No sense acting like someone's grandmother for so long like a weirdo. "We wasted enough time with all this, though. Let's get to that mee-" And then the butler tells them that the meeting needs to be rescheduled. That's going to make things even more awkward now. Futaba opens her mouth, shuts it, then turns to everyone else. "You wanna... Get something to eat since we're already here? We could go to that crappy Denny's again."
Rowdyruff Boys	Immediately upon somebody proposing food, the Devil's Due Diner appears in an empty lot across the street between collective blinks. You can't be sure it wasn't always there, but you don't THINK it was...
Petra Soroka	The meeting is called off. Petra looks blankly at the butler, her outstretched arm with her revolver slowly sinking. That stonewalling, the disruption of the schedule, feels crushing on her chest, and it takes a moment for her to pinpoint why. Then she realizes. She might not be here next week. Not with Lilian coming after her. Her vision blurs, and she sways, sitting down heavily on a chunk of rubble. Pain shoots up her back at the impact, and tears spring into her eyes, which she quickly wipes away. The revolvers are scattered next to her, and Petra doesn't have the energy to even reach over and stow them in her pockets. She raises her eyes to Futaba, who--probably wants to say something but doesn't know how-- and levels a flat look at her while considering the prospect of food. The leftovers from last week are long gone at this point, and Petra can feel the dizzy emptiness of being starved clouding her thoughts, but opening her mouth to respond feels impossible. She just turns to Blossom instead, looking dully for the Puff's assessment of her.
Timespace Riders	Zi-O removes the bulky Decade watch with one hand, and the more normal-sized Zi-O watch with the other. His armor vanishes in a flash of pink energy, leaving a vaguely college-aged guy in cream-colored denim pants, rolled to emphasize wine-colored hi-tops. A sky blue cardigan is matched with a loose-fitting button-up, and a warm smile resides on his face, despite the spectacular strike-protest turned infernal mosh pit that only just cleared up. "We wanted to see him because we're worried too," explains the would-be king. "And there are answers that only he can give us." Woz turns his nose up at the butler-adjacent man upon his approach. He looks like he really wants to say something, but Sougo's bright smile buries whatever it is, with just a put-upon sigh from the retainer instead. "As you can see," says Woz, who removes his own watch and goes from armored fighter to imperious wasteland twink, "The Headmaster has made sword and armor of decorum and protocol. A protest is inherently a challenge to these things, a test of their legitimacy, which he will not indulge without good reason." There is an accusatory air in Woz's tone, and in the way he glowers down his nose at Fuzzy. Sougo's gentle air is probably a welcome counterpart. "Still, I think it says a lot about you that you'd be worried enough to do this." He lifts a hand to his chin, pondering with a faint smile. "And... I don't want you to feel like it was wasted. So if there's anything you were hoping to get out of this, let me know! We're going to schedule another meeting, and I'll do my best to make him understand." >We could go to that crappy Denny's again. "We will most certainly not," says Woz, with a dramatic sweep of his hand. "Suggest that greasy fare again and you will learn another meaning of the phrase 'Grand Slam.'"
Powerpuff Girls	Bubbles, as the Fuzzies are '''pacified''', drops to a flush-faced air sit, floating with her legs crossed in a reclining posture. She has completely forgotten what the pair came here for in the first place - but the failure to understand is to her benefit. There's nothing to be done: They were contextually late to a meeting! But she had fun, and so, of the three Powerpuff Girls, Bubbles ends with the best state. She hovers waiting for Blossom, but the red will be a moment. Blossom Utonium finishes holding her ears, shaking her head with a wave of her ponytail and red ribbon to clear the last bit of the effect from her mind and refocus on things as Petra shoots out the strings. Fuzzy, continuing to speak in all caps, is then HISSATSU'ed by the Timespace Riders, and explodes violently. With the drama of Zi-O (and Woz? Woz!) Hissatsugeki behind her, Blossom looks at the Devil's Due Diner appearing right there, summoned by the wafting scent of radioactive clicky drama, and looks down -- to hold her hand down towards Petra to help her up. "Come on. You can get a slice of cake or a smoothie or something on me. I think the drama bill is covered." She offers, willing to wait for Petra to meet her halfway up with her hand.
Futaba Nuki	Woz issues a vague-ish threat. If Futaba was a more immature mature person, she'd probably make a pass at him or something. Instead, she just sputters and sighs dramatically. "Fine, fiiine. We can eat something good instead. Like-" HIM's place appears. Or maybe it was always there. Who knows? "Oh, yeah, that works." She gestures right over that-a-way, giving the retainer a nervous smile before coughing into her hand and making eye contact with Petra. It's incredibly awkward, but she maintains it this time. She doesn't turn away until Petra turns to Blossom, then gives Bubbles, Remee, and Sougo a more relaxed grin in turn. "Shall we, then? I'm thinking... Something lighter, maybe. Easy to digest, in case something else turns up while we're in there." She most certainly is not going to order anything light when she's in there.
Petra Soroka	Petra blinks, and the world fades away into a grey haze for a few seconds that pass like an instant. When she opens them, it feels like the outstretched hand teleported in front of her, and she flinches. Staring at it for a while, one phrase echoes in Petra's mind from the radio last night. "Petra-oriented". It really, really shouldn't be like that, right? Petra struggles to her feet on her own, and runs a hand through her hair, knocking loose a wave of burnt hair smell. She unsteadily sways in place, then remembers to pick up her revolvers, shoving them into her pockets. Petra makes a noncommittal noise. "Sitting in an actual chair is better, at least." Following Blossom into the Diner, Petra's stomach stirs in discomfort at the idea of eating more of the heavy food that comprised about 90% of her calories for the past two weeks. It's better than nothing, though, and she takes a bar seat, leaning forwards on her elbows and slowly sliding down until her face is on the counter.
Timespace Riders	Woz purses his lips at Futaba, piercing the air of awkwardness like a knife. "Very well." At the very least, the proprietor will not catch me off guard as he did last time. As usual, falling for the idea that he can overcome anything with 'preparation,' he nods, looking towards Sougo for confirmation. Sougo silently ponders it. Well... I'm a little worried about HIM and what he'll say... but if Woz wants to go, I should try and remember what Beryl told me. A moment later, he nods, smiling wide. "Sure! That sounds great."
Rowdyruff Boys	But HIM is not there. The diner is attended by myriad demons, some human-adjacent, most rather odd-looking, though all able to manipulate the Diner to their liking. HIM's apron is hanging on a hook beside the kitchen. Uncharacteristically, it will be a peaceful dining experience... more or less. STILL ELSEWHERE, BUT MORE ELSEWHERE THAN BEFORE... "FATHER, you evaded them MOST expertly. IT'S TOO BAD YOUR TRAP DIDN'T WORK. What do you intend to do now?" HIM asks, reclined in the study chair ordinarily reserved for FATHER. "I'M not going to do ANYTHING," said the man standing at the mantle with a bottle in one hand and a whisky tumbler in the other. "THEY'RE going to keep staggering around, and MY children are going to track down thossssee..." FATHER steadies himself against the mantle, taking another draft from his tumbler, finding it empty, and limply dropping it to drink directly from the bottle. "Those... DELINQUENTS. I don't have to win EVERY time. I don't even have to win most of the time. I just have toooo... win ONCE. That's the advantage of staying on the side of the law." HIM gazed in dissatisfaction at FATHER. "How drearily PASSIVE. I suppose we'll just have to see how that turns out for you!" "And ju--jusht what the hell is that supposed to mean?!" FATHER demanded, but HE was already gone. "Lousy..." Mumble mumble, "Everybody knows where HE'S going to end up..." Mumble mumble...
Powerpuff Girls	Bubbles floats along behind, hung forward and arms dangly. She's the warm sort of post-excitement tired, and while things are probably going to get dire or grow a little serious. Still, Bubbles in the moment is doing alright. Blossom is not doing alright, but she leads Petra into the diner, where the Devil HIMself is not in attendance. Curious! But the diner is here. Blossom orders a stack of toast and a berry smoothie. She has to repeatedly decline the levels of cream from 'egregious' down to 'tolerably thick', which is the lightest they have on offer, and returns to their table with a basket of garlic-reeking bar fries, the smoothie (raspberry forward), and the stacks of simple toast. From a counter, the Red brings some marmalade, and it's back to talking. With room at the table, Blossom sits down, Bubbles already having settled across from Petra. "Do you want to die?" She asks, pointedly. "I don't think you do, but if you do, you can say so. It's not something I've... Never encountered, but it's serious, so I'll take it seriously." She adds. She's giving Petra the suicide talk.
Petra Soroka	Petra takes a few moments to collect herself, letting the cool tabletop soothe her feverish face. It doesn't work-- neither the collecting, or the soothing, and when she props her chin up on her hand, her cheeks are already damp and sticky. When she sees Blossom and Bubbles sitting down with her, she swallows hard and straightens up, then presses her hand to her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut for a second. "I..." Petra flinches a little at the question. Shrapnel. She shivers, and a stinging shock runs up and down her body. "I-- killed Ishirou. From-- because--" Notably not answering the question, Petra blurts out a confession instead. She stumbles over her words, excuses and explanations bubbling up in her mind, but hesitating on whether to say them. Asking for and receiving sympathy feels even worse than asking for and being denied sympathy. "I-I said I would, and I did, and that's why everything's so fucked up now."
Powerpuff Girls	Blossom sits across from Patra, listening. Her legs cross idly, as she leans forward - intent, clearly paying attention, but her neutral-almost-a-smile is pulled just a bit thin. It's difficult, and it's harder when Petra is shrinking and shying away frm it. But - herself, she walks to it and says it out. An ill truth, but a truth. "Okay." Blossom begins, after the bombshell, and waits for Petra to continue, and answer the question she asked. Instead, she blurts, and Blossom's neutral expression thins a little more. "I understand you mean what you say. So, Petra, can you-" Can she? "-tell me that you want to live?"
Petra Soroka	Petra really wishes Blossom had gotten upset instead. The scrutiny and insistence is unbearable, and Petra squirms, trying to match her eyes and repeatedly flickering away. "I-is that really important? I'm a murderer. I killed a Paladin, and they're going to come after me soon, and Lilian is probably going to kill me." Petra's voice is tight, and her breaths are quick and shallow, as if she's straining with the effort to keep the conversation away from that topic. She cracks a little under Blossom's pressure. Her eyes flicker down, and she mutters, choked up. "And that's probably fine."
Powerpuff Girls	How many episodes has Petra watched? How many hours of her life was spent understanding this reality? And now she's at the Devil's diner, with Blossom pushing a tray of things that were on the lighter end of diner food towards her. Petra's answer - asking if it's important - breaks a bit of the seriousness, a helpless little tremble of breath and the precipitous 'oh no' that doesn't leave her vision as she gazes back at the once-hopeful-yellow. Her fan, who had done... such a thing... Still needed help. "It's really that important. It's your life. And they'll come after you, yes. You... knew that." A beat. "Didn't you?" Bubbles, who had been vibing up until now, leans in and tries to smile: "You can always start getting better at any time. It's still not too late." Blossom nods. "But you have to want to. So... do you want to live, Petra? We'll believe you."
Petra Soroka	Petra can't label exactly where her fascination with the narratives of heroism started, or what factors shaped it. Her relationship with do-gooding has always been rocky, and now more than ever, it's hard for Petra to consider herself a hero. But there are pictures hanging in her parents' house of a tiny Petra wearing a Halloween costume posing next to cardboard cutouts of the Puffs, and distant memories of shrill conversations and dreams about being superheroes. Petra swallows hard. She tries to take a deep breath and shudders, exhaling shakily, swallowing again. Her eyes start burning, and she sets her jaw. Another swallow-- it chokes in her throat, and she ducks her head, making an awkward snuffling sound as she tries to suck down air, and it slowly builds into sobbing. Petra curls in on herself in the chair, drawing her shaking shoulders inwards, tears running down her face. "I-I want to want to. Right? I'd prefer to want to. I wish there was a reason I wanted to. I-I-I don't-- I don't--" Petra pulls her knees up onto the seat and buries her face in them, wiping her eyes right next to the bleached-out bloodstains on her overalls. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This isn't, you shouldn't have to. No one has to. No one should. I c-can't keep being shrapnel to everyone like this. I-it's fucking, it's inescapable. If I want to be better then people reach out and I hurt them and hurting them makes me worse and then I'm alone and I do something fucking stupid and awful. And then people reach out again." "Brick was right. 'Petra-oriented', he said. I'm a fucking murderer. Y-you're heroes, you shouldn't even be tolerating me, much l-less-- this. I can't stand it. I can't do it. I can't get better."
Powerpuff Girls	Blossom Utonium stares at Petra Soroka and carefully, gently, extends a hand over the Devil's Diner wooden table, and the cooling fries, to place her hand on Petra's bicep as she curls in and hugs her legs to herself. She waits, and listens, and then only after Petra exhales her final sentiment-- 'I can't get better.' --that Blossom speaks. "Okay. But we're not talking about what should happen, or shouldn't, just what Petra wants. Not what will happen, or won't, but the answer to a question about you." A moment passes. "You want to live." She affirms, and does not respond to 'right?'. Preferring to want to is good. Needing a reason... "You're not eating. You don't have shelter, do you? I believe that you're sorry. If you want to be better, you have to reach out to other people, and it costs them things. Some people, it costs less to. Some people it costs more for. But... you're a member of the community, too." Bubbles, pensive, thinks out loud: "And there has to be something to do." Blossom doesn't move off of Petra with her eyes, with her hand. "You can tell them where the body is. You can admit where it happened, even if you don't give yourself up, and let them at least have closure. Otherwise, they'll find it. They will. Becuase they care." Bubbles hangs her own head, looking at the table. Her imagination is quite strong - she's already envisioned it. "And when that happens, you can't any more." "Will you do that?" Blossom asks. She's aware that Ishirou flew off with the 'other Petra', and signs pointed to their survival, but... At this point, what hope was there to claw back? Still, the pair at the table came to at least one thing Petra could do to 'make better.
Petra Soroka	Petulantly, Petra mutters in correction, muffled through her knees. "I said want to want to." She's very specifically not saying that she wants to, and she isn't sure whether it feels like a lie to say it, or whether it feels like a betrayal. If she wanted to live, that'd be cowardice at this point, retroactively making everything she's done worse. No food, no shelter. Petra buries her head further in her legs, and her stomach growls in place of using her words. "I'm not really a part of the community. Lilian keeps saying so. I'm a tourist. I'm a voyeur. A fake Elite that siphons off everyone's goodwill and absorbs it into the infinite fucking black hole inside me." "What does sorry do? I took away someone they care about. And... they probably know about the location. I told it to Bikki, and Bikki probably told them. And if not, they're so, so capable of finding it out themselves, effortlessly. Telling them now would just be bragging. And I-- I meant to do that. I meant to be confident, and casual about it, because it'd make it worse, and that's horrible, right? But I can't. I can't really summon the energy to." Petra doesn't look directly at Blossom, but the way her face is positioned, she might be watching her out of her peripheral vision. She probably is. "When they find it, they'll find me, and y-you shouldn't have to think about that." Petra drops her legs back below the table and wraps her arms around herself, leaning forwards. "But maybe I could tell Candelario. He probably doesn't have my number blocked. A-and then-- then I can--" Petra's face softens into a flat, resolute neutral. "Yeah. I'll do that, and then it's done, and I don't need to bother people anymore. That counts as getting better, right? It does. I can treat everyone else better that way."
Powerpuff Girls	"I might not have to, but I do. I think about it." Blossom replies. "I want you to live, Petra. If you're worried about should, it's okay. I don't need to think about that. I've simply decided to care about the person in front of me, because I'm like that. And..." Blossom's hands move, second reaching out to touch Petra's other bicep, voice remaining soft. "You know all about me, and I don't know anything about you--" Forlorn for a second, she turns to Bubbles. The blue's smile remains, but she's normally at this wavelength, ready to hit the soft and sweet notes. Blossom's doing it instead, with the blue's support, because Bubbles knows that sometimes the person doing it matters specifically. "Let's go back to our place. I think I have some old clothes Petra can wear, and we can find something for her to eat. Just for tonight, okay?" Blossom nods, as grave as she can be trying to wear a smile. At least... "Or tomorrow night, if you'd like. We've got extra rooms, so please-" She hadn't wanted to start begging. Blossom stops and swallows. Bubbles gets up. "I'll pay for the food and text Buttercup." The blue confirms, and Blossom nods, reaching to pick up Petra. "Come on. You can tell me more things that should or shouldn't happen after you've had a salad with some avodaco in it and a bath." Even if she escapes after - the Powerpuff Girls can ensure one girl eats a salad and has a bath. They just hope she'll come back around.