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-Toph turns slowly to face the EMT before raising her head to face his heart.-
"Oh, uh, I'm doing Computer Science over at Emerald U. Right now I've gotta focus on the Object Oriented Programming side of things, 'cause the pythonic method of encapsulation is really tripping me up-"
Suddenly, as though the universe itself were jerking its knee at the reflex hammer of boredom, there comes the sound of carnage from beyond! Outside, a table goes crashing to the ground, as something small, blue and vile gibbers in a terrible alien tongue! Young Dexter is startled out of his seat, and as he stares at the scene of wreckage outside and the panicking crowd begins to yell, the young man knows exactly what he has to do.
"Oh god...oh my god!"
Valiantly, Dexter Douglas flees in the direction of the bathroom like a coward. Barely paying any heed to his new acquaintances, he darts into the bathroom, slams the door behind him, and scans the surrounding area. The big question in his mind right now: does the bathroom have a window that can be opened and escaped through?
"I'm pretty sure humans consider it rude to toss their furniture through windows, you know."
2B hardly even seemed to pay the blue alien any note, but her voice was raised enough to reach him, and she was clearly addressing him.
"If you're that hungry, just sit down at a table, and someone will come to you in a minute without needing to attract attention."
Meanwhile, Pod followed the fleeing man to the bathroom and knocked on the door.
Sir, please do not panic.Your safety is assured, so long as you do not take hasty actions.
Edited by Meanken on Sep 29th 2019 at 2:58:57 AM
Espeon, Fremont Aftermath
Once she was given permission, Espeon stood up and began leaving, but stopped before she left the area they were in to look at the police officers.
Thank you, Espeon spoke telepathically to them. While we made sure that as few innocent people were affected as we could, that did come with a certain risk... Without your timely help, we likely would have been trapped there, high off of Patty's spores, until someone came along.
She knew to always make sure to thank the help when it comes. Sabrina already knew how she was going to explain the upcoming cough. She had ended up with a cold and needed to take some time off to recover from it. She could probably fake the sore throat and headache needed for the excuse.
Edited by GameGuruGG on Sep 29th 2019 at 7:24:41 AM
Curtis just smirks and gives the ditzy demon a simple answer. “I'm from Siberia, curious child. You'd be surprised at how many dignified gentlemen come from there.”
A trio of newcomers, huh? How splendid. Perhaps they could be friends or maybe they could be foes. Either way, they're more interesting than the boring normal people around here.
After finishing off his cheese-cake, Curtis calmly approached the blue alien and said, “Relax. I mean you no harm. Why do you like causing so much havoc?”
Edited by josh6243 on Sep 29th 2019 at 5:32:10 AM
Akali, Fremont Festival, The Great Escape
The moment a hole had been punched in that wall, Akali had pulled herself up and onto the lip; Out of sight. She lay sprawled out on it as things happened below, her eyes closed as she worked to calm her mind and fight the hallucinogenic as it continued to assault her senses. Eventually the sound of activity below faded, and stopped entirely. The woman laid there for a time longer, though for how long she wasn't entirely sure, before she made her slow way back down.
It was later, after she had slipped undetected from the festival grounds and back into the city, that Akali realized that it might not have been the best decision. While she tried to keep herself out of sight, with her senses so unreliable she wasn't sure how well she achieved it. And as her mind cleared slightly, she realized that whatever she might have been drugged with, might not just cause hallucinations. She had no way of knowing if it was doing anything worse, and she kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. She'd defaulted back to her training in the moment.
With no other option, she began to make her way back to where she was living. She would have to keep an eye on herself and find someone who wouldn't ask questions if anything else cropped up.
Well, that was a successful day of tearing shit up and delivering justice. Sort of. Bad people were foiled, and Godzilla was around. That's all that really matters. She decided it was time to go relax.
She didn't really eat to sustain herself, but sometimes it was nice to eat normal hugh man food to relax a little bit. She decided to go to the Cheesecake Factory. The no longer 20 feet tall, but still rather large lizardy woman entered the restaurant, looking serious.
"I would like the mightiest cheesecake you have to offer," she said seriously to whomever would listen.
Well, the situation had changed drastically from what Sento originally expected considering there was now a blue fuzzball chucking furniture around. On the *other* hand, even if the bathroom was now occupied, there was a floating mechanical pod hovering outside it which quickly made Sento's brain switch gears as he whipped out his phone and started taking pictures.
"I didn't realize there was other tech around like this! Who's your manufacturer? How old are you? What's your name?"
The guy was now more focused on asking questions he didn't know if he'd actually get a response to than on the fact that the restaraunt was being vandalized.
She had to admit, she was feeling pretty curious about this floating little robot. Where it came from, who made it, all sorts of questions she'd be willing to trade some data for. This could be the introduction to a brand new AI designer for Erika to get to know. Might even end up becoming a lead into finding her brother.
Hudiemon nodded her head after a moment of contemplation. "Alright, if its information you are looking for, I've got plenty." she said. Through her helmet she stared at the Pod for a couple of moments. Then the Pod would receive a wireless ping to being a file transfer. She would transfer all sorts of information about Emerald City, from its history to notable land marks and even small businesses.
After the Pod left with its owner, the digital girl took to the skies to escape public view. She flew around until she was pretty certain that no eyes would be following her. Once she was comfortable, the digital girl lowered herself into an empty alley to change back into Erika.
Erika shuffled her way into the cafe, keeping her head down as she hurried to her room in the back. Behind a door marked 'VIP', the young girl quickly entered and locked the door behind her. It was not a large room, with a majority of the space taken up by rows and rows of computer monitors. Really the only other things of note was a small mattress shoved into the corner and a mini-fridge. Erika sat down in front of her keyboard and went to work. She popped open a can of diet soda to get ready for a late night of investigating Mercury Biotech.
Edited by Oni-Lord on Sep 30th 2019 at 6:19:05 AM
Dexter pushes against the door to keep it shut at all costs. "I-I-I'm okay! Just...please don't let the monster in here, all right?" With his barely-pretending performance as a terrified civilian complete, Dexter steps back and regains his composure. 'Hasty actions', right! Now is the time for perhaps the hastiest action of all, and one that the writer and audience have all been dying to see. It's been eight pages already, let's get this show on the road!
Chest puffed out, chin held high, dramatic music playing in his mind, Dexter Douglas strides to the middle of the bathroom, clenches his fists and lets out a well-worn cry:
"Ohhhh FREAK OUT!"
Suddenly, a flash of light! Dexter's whole body seems to turn to liquid rubber, and swirls together in a whirlwind of colours. Sparks fly out, the colours spin faster and faster, until at last there comes a burst of electric power, and the young man snaps back into shape. Dexter Douglas is gone. In his place stands that marvel in black, in blue, and in bright red long johns: Freakazoid!
"Helloooo everybody, I'm here in the gaaame!"
Not a moment to be lost, Freakazoid leaps into action and...vaults feet first through the nearest window, into the outside alleyway. Could it be that this mighty hero is fleeing from the scene of danger? NO! Seriously, give the boy some credit now! He could hardly come out of the same place his alter ego went into a second ago, now could he? Watch him now, as in a blinding flash, Freakazoid streaks from the alleyway, streaming with electricity like a lightning bolt with a grinning masked face! Watch as he banks a hard left at the sidewalk, streaking down the street, scattering newspapers and pigeons in his wake!
Look out Freakazoid, you're going to hit that lamppost! PING! Off he ricochets, heading anticlockwise around the block. TING! TANG! KAPWING! Like a pinball he bounds off the architecture. It's a wonder he doesn't have head trauma, but mayhaps it's far too late for that. Now, at last, he kareens into view of the Cheesecake Factory, screeches to a halt, but doesn't halt in time before he tumbles into a garbage can offscreen. Seconds later, our hero returns, peerlessly clad in banana peels, gum wrappings, strange green muck, and a perfectly serviceable baseball cap.
"Never fear, citizens, the Freak's on the case! Now who's the bad apple here that needs himself a composting, huh?!"
Pod was about to say something else through the door to reassure the scared civilian, when suddenly a man appeared behind him and rapidly asked a series of questions. Pod turned to the man.
I am afraid my manufacturer is unknown, as both I and my assigned owner, Unit 2B, are suffering errors in our memory logs. Similarly, I do not know how long it has been my manufacture. And as for me, my designation is Pod 042, but you can just call me Pod. And over there is Unit 2B, who I am assigned to assist in any way I can.
Pod points over at 2B. For her part, 2B's expression haden't shifted an inch, and one might think that she just hadn't seen the latest batch of madmen and madwomen to enter the building due to her apparant blindness. Then she spoke out loud.
"What a bizzare species."
There was absolutely no indication of who she was referring to with this comment.
The little vandal ignored what the lady with the cloth over her eyes had to say; he was far more interested in the other notable figure, the big human with the scars on his face. The muscly man who had stepped over to speak with the alien directly.
The alien had yet to master the dominant language these humans spoke, but he had deduced enough to understand what this word meant: it invoked a question, a request or demand for an explanation. And seeing how Scar had chosen now to raise the Why, even someone like Stupidhead could see what he was referring to.
Why did he throw that table and cause a panic? Hmm...
Surprisingly, the little alien paused to think about it. He crossed his arms and rubbed his chin, like he'd seen humans do when they were trying to think.
He supposed he ought to answer with another question: Why not? The table was there, the railing was easy to break, and the windows were within easy throwing distance. The ingredients were set right before him, so why shouldn't he use them? That was like asking a cook in this fine establishment why he used eggs, flour, and sugar to make a cheesecake with 3,000 calories per slice! It's just what comes naturally!
Or perhaps Scar was questioning his timing? The foot traffic was quite heavy right now, perhaps he should've been a bit more patient; someone could've gotten seriously hurt by that table! Well, he supposed that was one of the underlying risk of stirring up trouble. He couldn't have chosen a better time to strike because he couldn't have chosen a better audience—the place was crawling with humans! Look over there! Some of them were literally crawling to safety! This was a fantastic setting to destroy, and it came with the added benefit of a complete lack of stupid undead people and even stupider heroes!
No, no, no, that wasn't what Scar was asking. A swift glance at the big human's face proved he was talking about both subjects put together: why had he thrown the table and caused a panic? Well...well hadn't he just answered those two points separately? They should work just as well put together: the table was there, and the patrons made great witnesses. There. Mystery solved! You can go back to eating your dessert, Mr. Scar!
...or perhaps there was something more to the question. Perhaps Scar wasn't asking why he had done these things now, but why he felt the need to do them in the first place? Well that was because...you see...it's like this...
Maybe this wasn't as easy to answer as he thought. He'd have to concentrate on what compelled him to destroy everything he touched. He'd have to meditate on where that urge was coming from. He'd have to do a great deal of soul-searching to discover if sparking the flames of chaos just to watch it burn was what truly made him feel whole.
...or he could throw some cheesecake in Scar's face.
Yeah! Let's go with that!
This long-winded calculation took hardly three seconds to process,note "Thinks faster than super-computer" and all that and once he reached his final outcome, the little vandal scurried across intact parts of the railing over to another table—one which the patrons had generously left empty with their desserts half-eaten. The alien turned to a plate of carrot cheesecake, turned to Scar, turned back to the cheesecake, paused, and threw the cheesecake at Scar's face.
Be prepared, Scar!
Not a moment afterwards, a blue-skinned pile of garbage stormed into the restaurant—literally and figuratively. The alien studied Freakazoid's loud behavior and deduced he was another one of those annoying heroes trying to rob him of his fun.
Freakazoid's question (though the alien didn't recognize it as such) was answered with another plate of food getting tossed; this time, a slice of banana cream pie aimed at the goofy hero's goofy hairdo. The act was followed by a slew of aggressive (though seemingly nonsensical) words shot in Freakazoid's direction.
Should he find a helpful dictionary, the blue-skinned hero would discover that he simply didn't have enough orifices to do what the alien was barking at him to do.
That drive was gonna take a while, it seemed. Concord Street was doing a good job to hide itself.
His own directional sense, any GPS he might have, or access to the internet would eventually tell him that there was no Concord Street anywhere in Emerald City. In fact, the nearest one was somewhere 50 minutes to the south...or across Puget Sound and into the west...or as one of the few roads in the mountain resort town of Paradise...
In fact, it seemed that Concord was pretty much one of the most popular street names out there, going by these results. Everywhere except Emerald City.
Though, a little past the surface level, there are mentions of something interesting. Concord Street's something of an old urban legend in this city, dating back to the 60s. A few forums dedicated to paranormal investigations, archived imageboard posts from the late aughts, even a creepypasta where the street contains a store that sells all of those haunted games that people like to write about are all various things linking together the legendary nature of the mystery street.
However...none of them really seem to agree on what happens if you do manage to find that road that doesn't exist. Most are vague in general.
The business card pretty clearly says "Concord Street" on it, though. Hmmm...
"Well...that's good, miss."
The doctor scribbled something into his notes.
"Anyway, you're free to go. All of you, make sure you don't do any strenuous aerobic..."
He looked at the assembly of heroes one last time before they left.
"You can't really avoid that, can you? Just come to the Beacon Hill Hospital if you get any worse. We're used to dealing with supers."
There was one letter on everyone's mind, so much so that you could say it was the Letter of the Day: "A".
As in, a lot of capital As in succession, said with much emphasis. AAAAAAAAAAA, and the like. You know, this kind of thing happens often around here, but people still act the same every time it does! Do these citizens have no dignity? It's just awful, and honestly they should just move if it bothers them so much.
Anyway, with the restaurant's financial situation in danger due to both the destruction that blue monster was causing, and the patrons taking their plates of cheesecake with them as they scrambled to leave. All of that missing lacquerware was gonna cost them big time in the long run, so something must be done, the Manager decided.
Running through the halls of pushed-aside chairs, dragging people towards safety, shouting "Go take something and leave a few bucks on the counter" to the oblivious lizard woman, he was on top of his game tonight. He had thought that the Cheesecake Factory was too mundane to ever attract the notice of evil most foul...no longer could he hide in obscurity! That, and the fact that it was a blue rat kind of bothered him. The Manager pushed aside some guy that was just sitting there with his $15 burger and then tried to get out himself...
...only for the most visible hero in the world to answer the call he most needed. Freakazoid!
"You! Get that blue rat out of here," the haggard-looking manager said, pointing in Stich's direction, "and do it before he breaks anything else, and I'll make sure you eat here free for the rest of the year!"
Casino Night - Mogul's Residence ~ The Game Begins
The fine white double-breasted suit Mammoth Mogul wore was a stark contrast to his shaggy brown fur, long trunk, and strongly curved tusks. He sat comfortably in a large, soft chair made out of the highest quality leather money could buy, which also happened to be custom built to seat someone much taller and bulkier than even the largest of human men. An expression of intent could be gleaned from his dark green eyes as he watched the evening news, one hand resting lazily on a chair's arm while the other held a glass of Chianti.
It was not unusual for Mogul to be interested in the news; after all, if he wanted to keep his impeccable public image up it paid to be well informed about all the happenings within Emerald City. However, he had been watching the news even more than usual lately, and not just because he had appearances to keep. In fact, it was because he felt so secure in what the public thought of him that he decided it was time for his next move: the seeking of an opportunity, a chink in the armor provided by the heroes who came thanks to the local support begging to be exploited.
He could certainly think of a use for a gang of bug-themed hooligans or a mushroom girl more interested in spreading hallucinations than any greater goal, but it simply was not worth the level of thought required. Iowa Jones didn't even deserve the consideration; Mogul prided himself on having gotten this far on his own merits, and had no sympathy for those who could only achieve success by leeching off others. Such trash deserved to be at the bottom of the food chain, and the museum's fine culture did not deserve to be tainted by association.
However, that wasn't to say this round of news was a complete waste of his time. Far from it, in fact, for there were others that offered much for him. A gynoid of unknown build. A blue koala with a lust for destruction, if an appalling lack of appreciation for history. Mogul simply had to think of the right carrot to dangle before the cart to have them charging ahead; a job made much easier by the youth of many involved. With their lack of life experience, they were much more prone to not thinking things through. Of course this same trait could also make them more unpredictable, but that was nothing a few well made safety nets couldn't handle.
When he was satisfied Mogul shut off the television. One phone call later, and he had his top secretary on the job to gather any more information on the events that he hadn't gleaned already. In particular, he wished to know the names and backgrounds of as many parties involved as possible. The fact that so many heroes operated under a different identity to their civilian one was troublesome, but with the right facts it would be a simple matter to put two and two together.
With that done, Mogul took the time to admire the sheer variety of artwork he had chosen to decorate his high-rise with. Fine carpets with elegant patterns covered the floor, and artwork from the world over covered the walls. A few statues were placed here and there for taste. Some of his vast collection had been given up to museums and such, sacrificed for the sake of acquiring the public's trust, but he had plenty more to spare.
There was one painting in particular that Mogul would not had given up, and indeed obtained it specifically to keep it out of the public eye. He gazed upon it now with an almost wistful expression. It was clearly an ancient painting, perhaps from the time of the Romans, depicting a massive clash of sword, spear, and magic between two factions: one dressed in traditional armor, and the other covered in hooded robes that concealed their entire bodies. Overlooking the brutal affair was a massive and bipedal mammoth, one hand clutching an eagle-headed staff while the other was held aloft as it radiated rays like the sun.
The mammoth was none other than Mogul himself, and the hooded faction was his loyal faction of wizards: the Order of Ixis. It had been a painful decision to dissolve them, but a changing world needed new solutions, and the old order was not able to keep up. Nevertheless, it was a reminder of a spectacular past success, and a motivator for what he could achieve now.
Just because the Order had been dissolved did not mean Mogul could not bring it back. He had every intention to, and this city could easily provide him the tools to do it. It had been long enough since those days, and he was long overdue to once again raise them up and have them hand him the world on a silver platter. He merely needed to wait for the pieces to fall into place.
A wicked smirk crossed Mogul's face. A lesser mind would had been unable to bear that wait, but he knew better. He had lived for thousands upon thousands of years, and would live for thousands upon thousands more. He could afford to wait a little longer.
Edited by Yomegami on Oct 3rd 2019 at 7:05:28 AM
Ryo Saeba - Ryo's Apartment
Okay, so apparently this Concord Street was a legend, so searching for it with his car would be useless. But magic could explain how this card got on him without the sweeper noticing. And in this age where a talking mammoth could own a casino, dismissing far-fetched stuff as impossible was downright foolish. So he choose another approach.
He began searching for the different stories that talked about this mysterious street and try to get a way to reach it from them. There were so many different versions that it would undoubtly take a lot of time to try them all, but he had plenty to spare right now. If that didn't work, he could always ask an informant about a reliable magic specialist.
Outside the Museum — Doppio
Doppio accepted his payment with only some protest - he'd done hardly anything, the others were the real heroes today - and soon stepped out into the evening air. The pink-haired young man took a moment to stretch. The Boss wouldn't mind if he took a little time before reporting back, right?
He spotted Kiryu mid-stretch. Maybe I should try to make some friends... I'm still new here, and it'd help with the Boss's mission too. Quickly straightening, he ambled over to the tall, well-built man. "That was pretty crazy, wasn't it? You did really well."
Sploich! Your pie, sir! Freakazoid's vision is filled with banana cream pie, while his ears are filled with nonsensical jabbering. As he clears away the mess, and has himself a yummy taste in the bargain, he is suddenly confronted by the worn-down manager with an offer no self-respecting hero can refuse.
If you guessed that bit of news perked Freakazoid right up, dear viewer, then your retina-scanned no-prize is in the mail. "(Well, ah ain't agin' that!) Consider it done, sir!" Freakazoid gives the manager an officer's salute, then turns to give the offending intruder a certified smackdown. It takes him a moment to look around, but as soon as he claps eyes on 626, Freakazoid suddenly lets out a gasp, the gaspiest of gasps to ever gasped.
"...O...M...gosh, look at you! Aren't you just the cutest little smootems? You're a widdle smookems, aren't you? Little smoochy wookems with the biggy wiggy eyes and the fuzzy blue fuzzywuzz. C'mere little ratty watty, little cutesy pooch, lemme give you a bigsy wigsy cuddle and feel aaaall the sweet sweet meats you got in your liddle pouchy wouchy woo..."
Yes, you heard right, folks. Freakazoid has become enamoured with Experiment 626, and is currently closing in to give him a cuddle. Trauma Units are on standby as we speak.
The alien's long ears turned towards the sound of someone speaking to it—or what resembled someone speaking; it sounded more like wheezing through a long string of noises no one could understand. Not even other humans!
He focused his big black eyes towards the wheezy blue-skinned hero and emitted a low, threatening growl. This human was getting too close. Was this a trick? Was this wheezing noise some sort of attack? A slew of nonsense uttered at an unbearable frequency in order to paralyze the human's targets? It had to be! Why else would someone stand so close to an aggressive figure like himself and start babbling like this human was? It must be a diabolical form of restraints, and the alien would. Not. HAVE IT!
Seizing the empty table he'd snatched the desserts from a moment ago, the vandal raised the furniture over his fluffy stuffy fuzzy wuzzy head and offered Freakazoid a parting message that would—more likely than not—make the lunatic superhero squee even more, given just how damn cute it was:
Like a baseball bat, the alien pulled the table behind his shoulder and swung the furniture's sturdy single leg at Freakazoid. If uninterrupted, the blow's trajectory would likely smack the superhero over the railing and down to the restaurant's first floor, if not out another window and onto the sidewalk.
Edited by TheodoreHastings on Oct 5th 2019 at 1:38:36 AM
As Curtis Knox calmly wiped the cake off his face and his good clothes, he saw a blue man in a red jumpsuit with black, white-streaked spiky hair confronting the cute harbinger of destruction. He's gonna need some help at this rate, especially since this furball's way too strong.
Curtis deftly lobs a bowl of leftover spinach-artichoke dip and chips at the alien. Let's see if he enjoys a taste of his own medicine!
“Oi. Need a hand, superhero?”
Godzilla left some money on the counter and enjoyed her cake of the cheese variety. She was so engrossed in her meal that she almost didn't notice the fight happening between the Freakazoid and 626. Something did catch her ears, though.
"Free cheesecake for catching that blue thing?" Godzilla pondered this aloud.
Then she tried to tackle the alien creature, not caring if she were to break anything else in the process.
-Grumbling, Toph grabs her cane and leaves. The whole incident cost her a lot of time, and she's anxious to get back home, where lazy tenants are doubtless anxious to pay their rents if they want doors with working hinges or silverware that isn't curled into useless cylinders. Maybe, if she's lucky, somebody will have tried to rob her apartment again.-
Washington State World History Museum
Somehow, despite there being a maximum of five heroes on the scene, Hirasaka still felt like he came in twelfth place.
The disguised hero had admittedly been a bit too distracted by the creature’s imminent escape to listen too intently to Jones’s ill-timed confession/plea for mercy, and Hirasaka instead made to chase the creature past the museum’s front threshold—still holding onto the whip, which was in turn still attached to the vase, which was very much a priceless artifact that the museum really wouldn’t have appreciated his leveraging into an improvised projectile in the first place. When the squad of police entered the building, and saw this man seemingly making off with stolen loot in the middle of the confusion, well, the slap of handcuffs definitely went a long way towards making the city feel like home again.
But that was all in the past—in theory. Mentally, Hirasaka was still replaying the varied and numerous affronts to justice that had taken place that evening, up to and including his own relative ineffectualness in both stopping the creature and diverting Dr. Jones’s path away from the perils of greed, whilst rocking gently back and forth atop the front steps of the museum. “How do heroes prevail, yet justice does not…?” He moaned softly into the knees pressed against his face, before the rocking abruptly stopped. As if coming to a sudden realization, Hirasaka shot to his feet, fist clenched dramatically by his side. “Forgive my rudeness, I had almost forgotten! Whatever else may have happened, you have all have made out very well on this day—as you should, considering your performance!” Hirasaka would move towards Kiryu and Doppio, before making to clap either man on their shoulders. “We shall celebrate accordingly! And I will buy, so as not to let your hard-won funds go to waste!”
Edited by Uncandescent on Oct 12th 2019 at 2:21:40 PM
World History Museum
As he continued to stare off in the distance with a stoic look on his face while wishing it was twilight so that the ambiance would be all the more full of romance (the kind not associated with love), the martial artist blinked as his idle thoughts were brought back into the real world when Hirasaka made his offer.
To say that it was something unexpected would be true since even the stoic man knew that he was a bit off-putting to ordinary laymen and thus most people would not attempt casual conversation with him like was happening now. The young man was about to deny the celebrations before stopping, mostly because now he had most of the day left free and he didn't know what to do with his time.
This also fit in with the whole 'getting more social' long term mission that the fighter had given himself though progress was incredibly slow due to being having a naturally intense air that made it hard to both understand others as well as be understood. It was very hard going, but after last time... well, he knew what it was he was sorely lacking in and thus had to fix it.
Coming at things with the mindset of training made it a lot easier to stomach since with repeated practice one could get better at talking as he did with martial arts, even if it didn't come quite as easily there. The blind man definitely had no bad intentions from what could be felt, no bloodlust or maliciousness that the ki user could sense so it would be alright to try things out here he supposed. "...If you wish." Though his face was still impassive as ever, there was a more awkward tone used that actually made him sound as young as he looked. Baby steps, Kirin.
Serena Hayes (Cheesecake Factory) - Metal Gear Solid: Cheesecake Eater
The Cheesecake Factory seemed to be abnormally lively. There were tables and broken glass lying on the sidewalk and the street in front of it, with a decent contingent of people standing a prudent distance away, watching whatever was happening inside with morbid curiosity, while another poured outside of the building with their plates still in their hands. The ruckus was not hard to hear from the street either. All of that was enough to ring several alarms in Serena's head, and under normal circumstances she would have immediately turned around and walked away.
However, she was there for a... job interview, so to speak. She couldn't exactly call later and say she had fled because of all the commotion. She at least had to make sure her "interviewer" was not in there either. But she could not just walk in through the front door... she had to find another way in. So she darted into the alleyway behind the restaurant.
Conveniently, there were some rear windows she could sneak through.
Even more conveniently, one of the windows had been left wide open.
It was not difficult for her to climb into the men's bathroom, and from there she quietly opened the door just enough to take a quick look at what was going on. She saw... less than she had hoped. A blindfolded woman sitting on her table like nothing was happening. Not the man she had contacted. Then there were... a blue man... and his blue dog... and a woman with a tail... what a bizarre bunch.
There did not seem to be a trace of her person of interest, but she couldn't be sure from where she was. It would probably be easier to check once everything calmed down. So for the time being, the sneaky girl lied in wait, watching everything unfold from behind the safety of the bathroom door.
Kiryu, Now With Companions
"Same to you. Good to see the alien didn't rough you up too bad." Nodding hello at the strangely dressed youth, Kiryu was just about finished with his cigarette, passing a look at Hirasaka standing up dramatically, as if struck by a revelation. The invitation to celebrate their success - though the extraterrestrial might have gotten away, they still helped arrest the fake archaeologist and the pharaoh was put to his rest - was met with a raised eyebrow, particularly once one of the bodyguards - the intense-looking young man - joined their unlikely group.
"Hm. I suppose it would be rude to reject such a generous offer." Chuckling softly, the ex-yakuza nodded approvingly. Sure, why not. Partying wasn't much of his forte, but being social went the long way. "I'm Hajimari. Pleased to meet you three. Where to then?"
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