View source for 2023-08-26: Session Extra: Requiem for a Clown


*'''Log: Session Extra: Requiem for a Clown'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Character :: Leina Ashta]], [[Character :: Spike Spiegel]], [[Character :: Roux Louka]], [[Character :: Sousuke Sagara]], [[Character :: Seolla Schweizer]], [[Character :: Kikka Kobayashi]], [[Character :: Lucine Azul]], [[Character :: Sayla Mass]], [[Character :: Cornelia li Britannia]]
*'''Where:''' Side 4, Space Land
*'''OOC - IC Date:''' 0097 UC 08-26
*'''Summary''': ''Kai Shiden puts together a bounty squad to capture Dr. Murasame before he can vanish into a BioNET facility in the Asteroid Belt.  They end up getting more than they bargained for in the urban legend: The superhuman assassin known as Mad Pierrot.''

----


 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

Kai Shiden had seen better days.  In his hospital bed, he still looked beat to hell, with a hard cervical collar still on.  The bruises had mostly healed on his face, but it'd been replaced with bruises up and down his arms from the constant IV placement and replacement.  As he opens the video call up, he hits a button on his phone that buzzes, and takes out a pack of cigarettes, blatantly lighting up in his hospital room without much care for the rules.

The smoke alarms don't go off.

And he makes no apologies for it.  The only excuse, for those who might know him, is the look in his eyes, haunted, which contrasts the almost cynical smirk on his face, "So I bet you're all wondering why my mug is a little less handsome than it used to be.  Was chasing down everyone's good friend Doctor Murasame, before he could vanish, when I crossed paths with something that..."

He takes a puff at that moment, as if he needs something to settle his nerves, "Not easy for me to admit I'm in over my head, but I'm in deep shit.  Ran into someone that doesn't exist.  You won't find a single intelligence report or file on him, just the usual urban legend bullshit, because they say that nobody who's seen his face lived to tell about it." Kai pats a hand to his stomach his chest, as if gesturing to himself, "Those that did manage to get away are hunted down relentlessly, only reason I'm still alive is because he thinks he got me...  or maybe Murasame is paranoid about letting his attack dog get too far."

Kai's eyes grow distant, "He showed up with a smile, and he left with a smile...  real piece of work, a BioNET assassin called 'Mad Pierrot.'" Taking another puff on his cigarette, he looked to those involved, "Anyhow, let me cut to the chase.  Dr. Murasame hasn't paid his dues with the powers that be in BioNET, as a result he's waiting on a transport to the belt, and has been for months.  What I'd like is for him to 'disappear' into a justice system that won't simply release him the moment his expertise is required in these changing political winds."

He then addresses Spike in the room, "Fifteen million just for you and your crew.  Nest egg between me and several like minded journalists to put this bastard exactly where he belongs.  Death is too good for him, too quick.I want him in a hole so dark and deep he never hurts anyone's kid brother or sister or daughter ever again." The way he delivers it, it's like it's extra meaningful to several people in the room, "You do that, and the bounty is yours."

He then points his cigarette at one portion of the split screen, Kikka, "And I don't want her on site, in case his enforcer shows up again.  Kikka, I know you're eager for the big leagues of field work, but you fly support on this one - handle communications and logistics." She eyes the rest, "Keep her name off your lips." Before he then looks at the rest, "Rest of you, I'm hooking you up with Spiegel here as I know you want a piece of this asshole, and are willing to assume the risks.  But all the same, we're putting up another five million to be split among the rest of you."

Twenty million, that's far more than Kai's ever earned, most people who know him can understand that implicitly, but he does have connections.  A lot of connections, a whole network of them.  There are people out there who must really want this man gone from the public eye.

He gives Spike a more business like look, "Haven't posted the bounty publically for obvious reasons so I don't expect competitors, but recommend you act fast.  The Fed is still reeling after Gryps-2, but there's a chance they might decide it's time to clean up their mess.  It's not long before the transport arrives too, early September by my source's reckoning."

Kai's eyes trail upwards to the roof, "As for the where-"

-=-=-

Space Land.  A Side 4 tourist trap whose glory days pre-dated the One Year War.  A Colony named after a theme park that long ago became too expensive to run.  For decades the Colony Corporation tried to make it work with minimal funding as things degraded, as they laid off more and more people, as tourism numbers dwindled.

Now there are no full time employees, just seasonal part time jobs for a select few.

It's dark right now.  This year they shut it off mid-summer.  Travel didn't recover enough after the ZAFT war came to an end.  Its only defense is a chain barricade linked between posts.  Ascend up a stairwell through a threshold with the happy face of a shadowed duck overhead.  On each side climbing with you are turtles with far too many legs.

There's an elevator down, it could be a trap, you could rappel, but it functions by sending one down to the base of a gnarled tree, ringed by animal heads that sprout out of the ground like night blossoms.  The tree itself is a tunnel where one knobby limb sprouts track for one of the rollercoasters.

It is so quiet here, that every footstep no matter how careful is exaggerated, can be felt, heard all over.  Each step forward is a choice, no matter which way one goes.  No matter how seriously or casually one approaches this operation.

There are no lights, save the elevator you came from.  A Carousel, its colorful steeds now shaded in their umbral stasis.  An orbiter of penguins with bulging eyes.  A loop of track marked by a disproportionate bear with a grin far too wide upon a lamppost, holding an unlit orb.  Stand after stand of carnival games, rows of animals with the illusion of farcical respectability staring at you.  A Tilt-A-Whirl with an enormous dapper hippo looming overhead, arms outspread in its shaded outline.  A Ferris Wheel built into a rocky mountainside, sprouting out of it as if the Colony's rocky outcroppings themselves were their spoke.  Arcades with Hippo faced skee ball games, some with closed maws, others open.

It is only once all of them have penetrated far enough into the park that abruptly, the lights come on.  At first spotlights, blinding bright.  An older gentleman shouts out like a ringmaster at a circus, "HELLO...  WELCOME!" One might wonder if he's going to say 'To the Greatest Show in Space.' next.  One will have to cover their eyes to see him over the bright aura of spotlights.  He stands atop the hat of one of the looming Hippos, as he cackles with glee.  A rotund looking man in a suit, a ruff, a far too tall tophat, a mask reminiscent of paint.  Everything about him screams parody of a clown, of the French character of a Pierrot.

Taking a bow suddenly, "LET'S-!" He then stretches out his arms in mimicry of the Hippo titan he stands on, "-PARTY!" As he does, the entire party lights up as if on command.  Spotlights begin to stab the sky, waving to and fro, as a giant sign that reads 'SPACE LAND' illuminates overhead, ferris wheels and roller coasters begin to move as if obeying a conductor - or rather a ringmaster.  Penguins fly around the orbiter darting in and out of each other's paths, carousel horses revolve round and round and up and down.  Fireworks begin to go off in every hue, causing bursts of stars and flowers overhead.

Everything you passed before lurches to horrifying life, to the sound of cheerful carnival music - that sounds slowed down, as if the track were slowed down from age - slower than the pace of real life, adding an element of aural dissonance to it all.   A marching band of colossal animatronic animals thuds through the streets, brightly lit and banging their drums, tooting their horns out of sync with the music.

BGM Change - Amusement Park - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKvN2EdM5Po

Pivoting like an enormous ballerina, the man stands on one foot atop his perch, stretching out a cane. Which begins to open fire.  Glass shattering, bullets whirring by each and every occupant with horrifying accuracy.  You'd better find cover, fast.  Somehow despite him standing out in the open, it feels like he holds every awful advantage.

And he knows it by the sickening smile on his face.

Out in the open, one feels far too exposed.  There are doors however, doors to employee only areas or shelters.  One could take them.  Standing your ground is also an option.

-=-=-

Inside an employee lounge, Dr. Murasame rubs his face, finishing off another cup of noodles.  He'd grown a beard during these long months waiting for BioNET to send their biannual transport to the belt in which he felt more and more like he did during his time in prison.  A dirty couch was his bed on most days.  He'd run out of his medication too this past week, which made it more difficult for him to think.  Still, he had an eye on the monitors as the park came to life.

With a tap on a grimy keyboard, he checked the security camera, searching his memory, until he noted, "Ah.  Dr. Deikun.  ... Louka.  And-" His mind struggles with Lucine, he knows that Puru-1 told him their name, but there's a prolonged pause, before he stops. "They'd make fine specimens."

Mumbling to himself, he grabs his chopsticks and slurps up more noodles. "A shame.  Tongpu never was any good at taking his targets alive." The man watches, and despite his struggle with memory currently - reminisces as he watches what he believes is a foregone conclusion.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Spike Spiegel has posed.
<poem>

For Spike Spiegel, this is just another job.

It still pays well. Spike has done a little work for Kai Shiden before, and it's his favorite sort of job: the type where the employer is thorough, pays well, and doesn't expect him to grow a sense of personal loyalty overnight. They have a very good understanding of each other.

This situation, though, takes the cake. The amusement park lurches to life and light; shadows and light dance across Spike's suit-clad form, glinting off the gun gripped in both hands, and he looks up at the shadowy outline of that rotund form.

His eyes narrow.

"MOVE!" Spike shouts to those he came with. "Shiden told me about this guy! Said he's enhanced somehow!"

Spike darts for one of the doorways, but his eyes are on the man up high the entire time, eyes locked on him. A final project of Dr. Murasame?

POT: Seolla Schweizer is no longer set observer.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Roux Louka has posed.
<poem>

To be honest, this is very stupid of Roux Louka. She has, on paper, everything to live for. She's made it through a miracle and she's got a new fiance and she should be finishing up recovering from her arm injury (which, honestly, is just sore now) and planning her blessed event.

But that's part of what's drawn her here, to work with Kai Shiden - to take on this job.

This is a pot of twenty million. Fifteen million, of course, for the professional taking point - the specialist - and five million remaining.

Five million. Divide it &#42;twelve&#42; ways and it's four hundred thousand clear and simple. And they may not have to divide it quite that many ways, depending on how things go.

Roux Louka isn't doing this for money...

... she's doing it for a SHITLOAD of money!

Of course, she's also not stupid, so she's dressed for the occasion. The same tactical bodysuit she'd picked up for the affair in the SEA -- it resembles motorcycling leathers, and with a rebreather you can use it as a normal suit in a pinch, as well as having, in theory, the ability to diffuse the impact of bullets. The sleeve mesh guide for her smartgun is worn underneath, leaving only the funky gun with the terminal-homing bullets to be seen out on the outside. Police special. It's probably legal!

"God," Roux says, "I can't believe this sicko is holed up here. Am I the only one who saw the commercials for this place? Blaring on TV, ads in the comic books, sponsoring school dances... Good old Space Gland."

Out into the darkened midway...

... something... Roux pulls out her gun but it isn't pointed at anything because it could all just be a cryptic set of shadows or something like that. At others, she glances, jaw tightening.

... Is this place actually just creeping her out?

FLASH! Not in her head but in real life. "Gah!" Roux declaims, but she already turned herself and ducks forwards behind an enormous iron statue of a whimsical frog which hasn't been repainted in three years and, in fact, was not emptied out. It stinks, but she's mid-lunge when the gunfire starts --

So I guess, Roux decides, behind the frog, that was probably a good idea. "Enhanced HOW?!" she calls to Spike.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Sousuke Sagara has posed.
<poem>
Sousuke Sagara was at the meeting in his Mithril uniform - olive fatigues, like the good old days. His face was a flat mask, unreadable. Take down Murasame before he could go somewhere they couldn't catch him. Alive. His expertise could yet be used to save lives. Months ago, ''weeks'' ago, Souosuke Sagara would have turned this dilemma over and over in his head, chewing on his anger at the man for his deeds against the right of his victims to have a say in his fate, against the value of his knowledge in saving them.

"Not a problem," Sousuke had said, clapping his pamphlet shut. Orders were orders.

&#42;        &#42;        &#42;

Sousuke carries out the infiltration with the talent of a man who's lived in urban firefights his whole life. Check your corners, check your sight lines. He keeps his head low and his steps quiet.

The theme park makes him think of that project he never finished. He'd give a lot to have that with him right now...

But he doesn't have that hamster suit, or anything else from Jindai. Never again.

Even Sousuke hesitates just a moment when he sees the orb of a man prancing about above them. The park comes to life and Sousuke's gaze slips side to side, trying to assess for threat. "He's turning the whole field against us," he mutters.

He's already moving before the gunfire starts, ducking behind what he hopes is an unusually sturdy trash can. He....trusts, trash cans. They have been his responsibility and ally.

He cracks up with his trusty Glock, returning squeezing out a few shots at the prancing madman.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.
<poem>
        The one thing Seolla learned well is that when a deal is underway, don't interrupt it with your impulse thoughts and concerns. Don't raise questions that everyone else knows the answer to already. The things important to her specifically will be made apparent. This is a pursuit of Dr. Murasame, who's hurt so many people. Not just her friends directly, but many more just like her.

        But occasionally, throughout the transit up to Space Land, one can hear a faint little muttering whenever the outcome of this mission comes up.

        "...''why'' don't we just kill him..."

        What darker hole is there than that? What's more secure a place to prevent further harm than the grave? What use does he have alive and secured somewhere? Is Kai Shiden requesting that he be taken in alive exactly because ''he'' intends to make use of the doctor somehow?

        "...I just don't get it. But..."

        A little sigh, once the elevator descends, a quick tug of the hip-slung bullpup (for quickly whipping out and suppressing) and the back-slung rapid-folding rifle (for running to a perch and picking someone off from a distance), clattering amidst the oppressive din of the failed amusement park. It probably failed because it's creepy as hell? Who would even go here. Even Seolla, who's seen &lt;some seriously dire stuff&gt; can't help but feel worried about the sheer bad vibes.

        A blinding light. It's not Seolla's first time - her reflexes are fast enough to shield her eyes and prevent being utterly blinded, and she knows to reach out and shadow the sources where possible. Disoriented sight is better than ''no'' sight.

        "Kh- You're that Mad Pierrot I heard about, right? We were told nothing about letting ''you'' come back ali- ''damn it''-!" Seolla's slower to recognize the cane as a weapon than she'd like. And she's slower to assess whether she needs to dive in and protect someone else from fire than she'd like - pure self-preservation wins the day as she leaps opposite Sousuke, struggling a ''little'' harder since a somewhat thick bollard is her only cover, and she's not fully concealed behind it in the slightest. "Hoy, Uruz-7!" she calls out as loud as she can - though the music's making that more difficult. "...I...I'm a bit pinned down here...! If anyone has anything that can slow down his shooting so I can get somewhere - ''anywhere'' better than this...!"

        Sweat rains down her brow as Seolla compacts herself as tight as possible, pulling her arms in too tight with the side-on position she has to take for her to reach for anything without exposing her arms.

        It's never easy to face the dilemma that you may just have to ''go out'' into suppressive fire for better cover, and be the easiest target for it in the process...

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Kikka Kobayashi has posed.
<poem>
It certainly wasn't the first time Kikka has seen Kai Shiden in 'deep shit', as he'd put it, but it's the first time she'd seen it so bad. And she knew it was because he chased a promising lead for the infamous Doctor Murasame, still looming large, waiting for his BioNet friends to bail him out.

Which means this might just be their last chance to bring him in, prevent him from making any more victims like those Leina, like Jill. Of course Kikka volunteered herself in.

Although Kai lays it out clearly during the mission briefing: she's running support. It makes sense. She's handled bombs before, but it's sheer dumb luck that it worked out. Her actual, real training lies elsewhere. Besides, this was about far more than fame and glory, or even that massive bounty on the science criminal's head. She'd rather see Murasame brought to justice - alive.

"Right, right... I understand. In that case, I'll be making sure you don't all get yourselves killed in one wrong step, okay?" It's a sort of serious casualness she inherited from Kai, as she trains her cameras on the now-ominous Space Land. "Oh and by the way, don't forget to refer to me as Spade-8 for the purposes of this mission.... just to make things easier for us."

The methodical quiet of what looks like a totally abandoned amusement park suddenly bursts with energy as Pierrot makes his appearance. "Don't even bother trying to fight him!" Kikka, Spade-8, jolts as he invites the group to party with him. "Outgunning him is out of the question, so for the time being your goal is to outrun him." Seolla demonstrates that, almost getting caught by his fire, as Sousuke covers her.

"Enhanced how? Let's just say he's a BioNet cyborg on an entirely different level. With all of the sheer killing power on-foot, and little of the logistic issues. And now he's Murasame's attack dog, of all things. Still... I'm sure not even Murasame can control him, not fully. You might be able to use that somehow. But for now, just focus on surviving!"

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Lucine Azul has posed.
<poem>
        Roux isn't alone. For what is not the first time, listening to Kai's recollection, Lucine ponders if Kai may not be the only one who would end up getting in over their head, when all was said and done.

        Accepting the call felt like a way to banish the specter of a person that vaguely served as a bogeyman, a name overheard through a late night argument between her parents, back when they thought she couldn't hear them. A scientist, a person of reason and logic, trying to convince a former bounty hunter why Newtypes were just some hippie nonsense, devised by some rich person or another with too much time and money on their hands than common sense.

        People like Murasame are why it's never a joke.

        ... Also, the payment seems lopsided. Not that any bounty hunter worth their salt would take up a risk like this for anything less, but the... other side of things.

        She frowns, just slightly, but accepts. Imposter's syndrome strikes again.

        -=-=-

        ".... I'm... not sure I'm happy myself, but death's not the worst thing that can happen to someone... there has to be a better deterrent, to make sure no one follows in his footsteps..." ... Lucine's reply to Seolla may not be a great thing to say, going where they're going now.

        .... and facing the possibility of learning for themselves what possibilities may lie beyond 'death'.

        'LET'S.... PARTY!'

        Nothing could quite have prepared Lucine for this.

        The gunshots scatter the group, and the pilot wonders why she didn't decline the moment she realized this would be &#42;on-foot&#42;. Falling behind a paint-chipped display, Lucine winces back from the bullets ricocheting off the plaster and cement. Enhanced. BioNET cyborg, says Kikka.

        The warped explosion of light and color make everything just a little worse, but that, perhaps, may be where Lucine can help.

        "..... I'm going to search for the controls," Lucine says on the radio. "Whether he's running it from a remote or has someone helping him, we can be the ones to set the stage instead of him...."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
<poem>
        Sayla really should have visited earlier. More than just checked in.

        But that's always been one of her problems. She can make up for it later. ...She will make up for it, once Murasame's away.

        Her eyes narrow as Kai describes the situation. "...That son of a bitch." Sayla mutters, as he describes Murasame throwing in with BioNet- and the assassin he has guarding him.

        She looks away when Kai talks about who they're preventing harm to.

        "...We need to know there aren't any more traps he left." She says, curtly to Seolla. "I want to make sure we get everything done to Leina and Rikka undone. That's reason one that's keeping him alive." She pauses, briefly. "...The second is that his victims have asked that we don't." Not yet, at least. In her head, there was a third reason.

        She nods quietly at Kai's request. "...I agree." Years ago, they had dragged Kikka and her brothers through one of the most dangerous parts of a war. Now... "Given what we're up against, it's the right call to have you on support."

        The Kobayashi's have lost enough family already. "He won't escape, Kai. Not again."

        ----

        When they actually deploy, Sayla is geared for combat. Bulletproof vest, clothing that's easy to move in, her carefully maintained sidearm in hand. She's also sensible enough to not be at the front of the pack. Spike is the expert here, and Seolla, Sousuke and Roux all have far more military training than she does. She's going to be Kikka's main communication point during this.

        She notices how cold Sousuke sounds- but selfishly, she needs him on the job. "Uruz-7, Uruz-11, Heart-6 follow Mr Spiegel's lead. We-"

        And then the park bursts to life, and any hopes of this being a straightforward mission are dashed. She dives behind what she hopes is solid cover. She hears Kikka's advice over the radio- outrun him. "...Understood, Spade-8." She says, waiting for the gunfire to let up and provide an opening to move. That's their best chance until they get eyes on Murasame.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Cornelia li Britannia has posed.
<poem>
It didn't sit right.

It's been in her thoughts for months.

The Seattle mission. The message. The Banshee.

The day she nearly lost her life, and all she could think was:

'What were they doing there, on a mission they weren't authorized to take part in?'

The ultimate decision she came to was that someone decided their authority superseded hers -- superseded Britannia's. Superseded all others.

That someone had decided they had the right to use her soldiers' lives as fodder for their petty, personal games.

And that, Cornelia li Britannia would not abide.

                                --+--

It's remarkable the things you can discover when you simply make the decision to see them.

The months following Seattle had seen the Second Princess of Britannia quietly turning her attention towards the activity of the Unicorn. It was a thread that led her attention to Anaheim Electronics; that then led her to Martha Vist; that then led her to one the once-jailed Dr. Murasame; that then led to his service record...

The things he had done.

                The people he had done them to.

Martha Vist had been apprehended. Dismantling everything she had made, though... that would take time.

Time. And a first, decisive step.

Cornelia li Britannia is staring through a list of old files organized under the umbrella of 'MARIANNE' when the door to the Viceroy's ostentatious office hisses open. She looks sidelong towards the broad presence of Andreas Darlton, the battle-scarred man offering a shallow bow to the woman who walked through those battlefields with him.

"Viceroy. We found a lead," he offers. "A location."

Cornelia pauses. She looks back at her screen, staring for a quiet moment at old evidence of a crime she never managed to solve. A death she never managed to avenge. A frown settles on purple lips.

"... Good," she says after a long moment. Shutting down her computer, she rises smoothly up to her feet. "Give me all the intelligence on the location and the target. We will remain lean for this; take Bart and Edgar to act as reserves. Any more will play our hand and the craven weasel will simply burrow into a new hole."

"Yes, your highness!"

"So. Where is he now, Darlton?"

"... Our reports indicate that he is at... er."

"Yes?"

"... Space Land, your majesty."

Cornelia li Britannia's expression curdles.

"Space... Land."

And with a shake of her head, she moves once more, resigning herself to her fate.

"So be it. Prepare for immediate departure, Darlton."

It does not matter, ultimately, if he was holing away in a gaudy theme park, or the middle of Jupiter.

"Dr. Murasame does not escape."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

Enhanced?

Oh certainly.  They can all see it just in how he moves.  Several bullets fired by Sousuke which ought to strike head on, just don't.  There's a flash of green at the point of impact, and they just drop with all momentum lost.  The frog that Roux was facing not long before loses it's head, a bullet hole perforating through one eye and out it's throat.

The man continues cackling, louder, and louder.  The predator to their prey.  The clown putting on a show where only he is laughing. Kikka offers fantastic advice.  Run.  It unfortunately might come back too late for some.

The man descends.  He does not move as people do.  Like a rotund ball he strikes the ground, and bounces, again and again in short staccato hops, his cane twirling in a flourish as he goes.  That same grin plastered on his face in pursuit.  He gets in close to Sousuke, eyes agleam, his cane now a bludgeon.  But before a hit can connect, his body just ''ROTATES'' off the ground as his suddenly upraised legs striking him in the chin with enough force to send him aerial - then twice as he connects against him in mid-air in a full vertical spin.  Then again.  Three times, as if he were juggling him with simply the force of violence.

Before he lets him fall.  As he's falling, he turns to Seolla, and cuts an elaborate bow that doesn't finish until Sousuke's on the ground, "HELLO MISS!" As he raises up, she can see, a middle aged visage, teeth ground to points against each other.  A wicked grin, a gleam in his eyes of someone who does not see her as a person - who does not see her as much of anything other than a target or perhaps prey, "You have come for me to take your life!"  A shape is lobbed towards Seolla whip quick.  A knob on a stick or rather an old fashioned grenade design, a potato masher.

It detonates in short order, and in the ringing in her ears of the aftermath, the music distorts quickly.  He's left them both bouncing and laughing manically - in pursuit, but they can certainly catch up to attempt to ambush them behind.  He's - headed towards the entrance of a ride not too creatively labeled SPACE SLIDE! Decorated by penguins.  A speaker near the front of the attraction calls out: Slide into space on a magical adventure!

Inside the back area as Spike takes cover, Sayla follows not far behind him, Lucine comes in through another door nearby down another hallway, there are tanks of compressed gas near both doors, forcing one to keep moving.  However, as one does so, a naked cherub appears with a cupid like bow, chirping as it admonishes them both. "You're not allowed in here!  Let's play outside!" And even as you go further, it declares, "It's dangerous in here!  You're not allowed!"

What the three come upon is the back drop for an indoor ride, the parts of scenery you're not supposed to interact with.  Great icy cliffs and glaciers that look so very real.  You run by a sleeping Saturn with a pipe in its face, and five pointed stars, a bright comet with a trail passing by.

They see a great slope of ice, as a penguin car without occupants races down the cliff you're on and past you, hitting it as a ramp before launching aerial, whirling round and round in space over a drowsy sun upon the horizon, more and more glaciers erupting to give a glittering view of an arctic straight out of a children's book.

Before you can really take in what's going on, more sleds, more and more are racing down, including a top-hatted man, balancing one leg on a car always as if he's about ot fall out, waving as he declares, "HIIIII!" Sousuke and Seolla could take a Penguin car down, it would be the quickest route, and would potentially allow enable an ambush from behind.

Mad Pierrot's penguin sled takes flight spinning and whirling around like an out of control rocket, he starts cackling, pointing a grenade launcher, as the whole cliffside erupts in flame.  It does not melt, certainly not, it disintegrates into the false image of obsidian waters below.

They're quite solid.

No matter how you break the fall...  there are ways out, there are always ways out.  And yet there is no way out.  The doors from this attraction take one into a place that's like a cylindrical mini mall, stores with security shields over so many of them, a semi cylindrical rooftop of glass.  Everything here is unlit.

Somehow the well lit amusement park feels preferable.

The music feels more distant now but still audible, warped further by the walls of this enclosure.  And in the expanse, shadows move. One, for example - right behind Spike, at that moment.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Spike Spiegel has posed.
<poem>

"Hell if I know!" Spike calls back to Roux. He lands in the doorway, before he glances in Sousuke's direction. He takes note of that, then looks up to track Pierrot. The guy who did a number on Kai; the guy that stands between 15 million for him and Jet.

He glances at Seolla. A sniper, maybe; someone who wants a better position. "I'll see what we can do," Spike calls to her. "Spade-8, can you confirm if there's a high point anywhere nearby? Some where to get her up to."

He nods when Lucine says she's going for the controls. He looks back -- then stares as Pierrot moves like a damn beach ball, bouncing off the ground, and closing with Sousuke in a sequence that feels maddening.

"Shit, shit!" he shouts, as he lobs a bomb, and then takes off towardss the rides. Spike looks after, then turns his head -- looks at Sayla -- and then his eyes narrow, as a cherub speaks.

He frowns, then looks at Sayla and Lucine. "He's in here somewhere. Keep your eyes open. He knows the layout better than us."

But ignoring him -- ''not'' hunting him -- means they let him hunt them. So Spike sets out, and comes to a stop -- seeing where Mad Pierrot rises up, on one of the penguin cars. He sees the grenade fire.

"MOVE!" Spike shouts, running ''before'' the grenade hits. He leaps -- jumping over it -- and the fireball explodes behind him, the cliffside burning -- and he slams into the ground, hard enough to feel a few ribs crack, but he rolls with it.

He stands, shaking. He looks around -- for the others -- and then he kicks open a door.

Into an unlit mini mall. He looks at the half-cylinder roof, still dark; he looks at the shielded store fronts. He takes a step -- and then a shadow moves. Not one of his allies; Spike tracked those.

He turns, pistol raised, and shoots.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

Spike's instincts are sharp enough that he tags it just before it would catch him.

A two meter tall animatronic hound with cartoonish features and a sailor suit is shot repeatedly, it's mechanical organs spew out of its face like so much pink fluff as it disintegrates, synthetic voice distorting as it laughs it's interrupted greeting, "Hyuuuckkkk-! Helllll..."

And then it's weight collapses upon itself into a pile at their feet.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Roux Louka has posed.
<poem>

"Oh my God," Roux answers Kikka. "So we're fighting some kind of illegal clown cyborg AND he's working for Murasame??" She pops her jaw for a moment.

"I guess this must be how the bounty got so high," Roux continues, bleakly. "Just rolling over and stacking it up... Any chance we could reach out to him, Spade-8?" Roux seems to doubt it severely given her tone of voice, but maybe this guy's got a good side, Roux reasons.

The bouncy, jolly, roly-poly pierrot shoots through a cast-iron frog several times.

Roux reconsiders her sentiments.

"Okay, &#42;&#42;&#42;&#42; this guy," Roux says, popping up from cover in order to pop off three rounds at him. The gyro-launched weapons follow Roux's eye motions to flick in the direction of the Mad Pierrot ANNNNND accomplish nothing beyond causing a firecracker POP when one round strikes a shaken-up bottle of some kind of carbonated soda.

"Shit," says Roux, which begs the question of what the hell she said a moment ago. A great mystery.

After this she moves after Spike -- the professional taking point. "Heart-6 on the move oh my GOD what is he even DOING!" Move, move, move, move -

Penguin slide! Aw, Roux thinks but doesn't say as she sees an adorable painted penguin.

GRENADE! THE SLIDE IS NO LONGER CUTE. "Shiiiiit--!"

SLAM! Fortunately, the gelatinous ballistic layer inside of the suit takes at least some of the edge off of impact, turning a potential break into a painful bruise. Roux pushes through it, back against the wall as she turns her head, looking after Spike, eyes on a different vector, but -

BAM! Is it done?

HYUUUUUUUCK...

It is not. Roux's teeth grind, just a little more.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Sousuke Sagara has posed.
<poem>
Sousuke takes a few shots and his eyes widen as that field of light ''stops'' his bullets. "Lambda driver!?" he croaks out, a shot of fear burning out almost everything else in him. That's not possible!

the shock has him thrown off enough that he's totally unprepared for the madman to just DESCEND on him like that. "Hngh!" he growls out, and manages to get his forearm up in the path of that first blow--

Is what he thinks, before the madman ROTATES AROUND A POINT THAT ISN'T ON THE GROUND??? and catches Sousuke in the jaw. He's seeing stars immediately and releases a dazed, senseless "glrk" before he's lifted entirely off the ground, and then caught one, two, three more times sending him higher, eyes rolled up in his skull long before he hits the ground, totally insensate and easy pickings.

As consciousness starts to leave him, he claws at something he can't see, and croaks, "Kana..................." before slumping into the darkness.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Kikka Kobayashi has posed.
<poem>
"It's exactly that, Heart-6." Kikka answers Roux absolutely humourlessly. "I don't even know why he thought the clown aesthetic was necessary? He freaks me out enough as it is." As for reaching out... "I wouldn't doubt that many people tried that already..." She can't help but shudder at the thought of what happened to those. "But I don't think he's gonna listen."

Honestly, the place is creepy enough that seeing it through a camera is enough. As much as exploring a place like this sounds like shenanigans her and brother would've gotten up to... she holds her breath as Mad Pierrot continues to chase her comrades down. With a man like that, one wrong move and a life is lost in an instant. It means her analysis needs to be fast... and on point.

Which brings her attention to the IFF approaching Space Land from behind them. Reinforcements from another BioNet branch?! No, that isn't possible... "Um, Kai? Didn't you say you weren't expecting competition?" She perks up. "Because it looks like the Britannians are coming for Murasame, too. Ground forces: don't let them distract you. Your mission remains the same, we're after the same goal." If the Britannians attempt to make contact, though, she'll answer them the best she can.

As they enter the "forbidden area", Kikka tries to track down that source of the music, while it's a source of ambience for the ground troops, it might just be a clue for her as it seems to fade in and out with the walls.

But then... Uruz-7 falls. "Uruz-7, come in! Uruz-7?" Watching that unnatural way the Mad Pierrot moves, deflects shots... her senses tell her Sousuke must be in trouble. "Contact has been lost with Uruz-7!" She reports. "Uruz-11... you're the closest. You have to retrieve him before it's too late!" She barks out to Seolla.
BBSYS: Post 1181, 'Worst transformation sequence ever' has been published to Daily Spotlight by Lucine Azul.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.
<poem>
        The strange monsters of the world were always well outside of Seolla's ken. An exceptionally capable supersoldier, she can understand. Someone faster, tougher, and so well trained that they can take on a platoon of armed officers, that's perfectly graspable. She's even prepared for that - because she was supposed to be the same. She can count on having a grasp on what a single dangerous person will do, since she's had to be that person before - all while usually coming off as unassuming herself.

        That's not what's happening here.

        Seolla's training falters at a man who decides he is not being shot at. At a man who bounces upon thin air, rotates upon nothing, acting more like a self-determined particle. Her eyes get dizzy the moment Pierrot gets dangerously close - but

        -That is the opening she was looking for, in ''one'' sense. There's fewer bullets in the air, she can finally move.

        Thankfully, she was able to observe that the man was unreasonably capable long before he got close - Kikka's suggestion to get the hell out of there rings true. She can't fight this without knowing more, so she radios to her, &lt;"I'm not opening fire until I have any idea what can actually kill this thing, please tell me as soon as you know what can handle him!"&gt;

        Grenade incoming. Seolla springs to her feet as quick as she can, the world ticking to a crawl as her objectives collide together. Darting to Pierrot's side and lunging directly at the incapacitated Sousuke, every secondary thought draining from her beyond immediate survival and rescue of personnel. She's not letting Sousuke die. She's not letting herself get that close to Pierrot ever again. Plugging her ears as tight as she can before the grenade goes off behind her, there's a slight wince at the still-loud bang - and the world is muffled for a little while, but she didn't go utterly unable to hear. Always preserve your senses. That's the only way to survive. Protect them more than you would protect anything.

        Thankfully, Sousuke's not all that heavy, and Seolla can sling him over a shoulder to dart away. Where the hell is ''safe'' around here, though? How can she bring an unconscious comrade away from an erratic madman? By now, thankfully, Pierrot has bounced away as he does - but Seolla can't go calm. Pure adrenaline animates her now - before she stumbles and collapses and makes herself an easy target catching a breath, she does elect to take the ~penguin slide~, if only because the cart a) keeps her moving and b) allows her to check if Sousuke's been more gravely injured. There's the world's fastest and roughest first aid check while she's hurtling in this sensory overload nightmare at what feels like a hundred miles per hour - but as far as she can tell, Sousuke's not bleeding out dangerously. A gasp in relief.

        One of the shutter doors protecting the old shops is forcefully wrenched open with the kind of raw, primal strength that should slightly terrify anyone expecting her to be a seemingly normal-looking teenager. Sousuke's tossed roughly onto a pile of cardboard boxes within one, and the shutter's slammed down again. Safety, for just a moment. Seolla tumbles against the metal doors, staring skyward and rapidly hyperventilating. Keep it under control. Huuu. Hold - release. One palm claps into the metal. "...Uruz-7's relatively safe. Damned thing could get him if he wanted, but if he tries, that's ''an'' opening.

        A moving shadow Seolla would rather not see moving. Three seconds elapse. One to swing the back-mounted rifle forward into her arms. Two - to disengage the lock and spin the barrel to be screwed into position. Three, to get whatever's moving that isn't her ally in her sight. Anyone sneaking up on Spike, the clearest most agile pro in the room, is prioritized, even if he seems to know who's ganging up on him before Seolla does.

        No hesitation to fire. The roar is deafening - the rifle's optimized for force and accuracy, with little care for egregious things like silencing.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
<poem>
        "...A target worth that much is going to be either dangerous, pissed off the wrong people, or both." She says, in response to Roux. "Don't underestimate him."

        Sayla had thought she understood what they were up against with Mad Pierrot. She was not expecting someone who could simply ignore the rules of physics. She has already failed to follow her own advice. "What the hell!?" Seolla and Sousuke are on the receiving end as Sayla follows Spike with Lucine-

        "Spade-8, give me status on Uruz-7 and 11 as soon as you can! We've been split up!" She calls over the radio, and when the Cherub emerges she takes aim at it- but stops short of firing, catching her breath. "Damnit... who the hell makes something like th-"

        And then he's there, and as Spike dives over the Grenade, Sayla rushes forward. She is not as athletic as the resident Cowboy, and she tumbles roughly, propelled forward by the explosion and rolling, having to pull herself up with a groan of pain.

        And then... Darkness. She nods at Spike's response, but it's going to take a while for their eyes to adjust to the darkness, and a flashlight is going to totally give them away.

        Spike's reflexes are on the money, but his target of choice... "...That's not him." Sayla mutters quietly. How many false targets are there going to be here. As Spike leads, Sayla moves to step behind him, watching their backs. Maybe that will be enough-

        "...Britannia are here? Shit." Sayla's voice lowers. "...We can't let Britannia take Murasame. There's decent odds they'll take him up on his work." She pauses, briefly. "...If we're lucky, they'll pull his attention-"

        And then Kikka reports that Sousuke has gone dark. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Sousuke's one of the best trained of the group. If he's down already... Sayla tightens her position. Kikka's plan is sound. She closes into tighter formation with Spike and Roux all the same, walking backwards as she does so.

        If she's lucky, they'll get a flash before he strikes next time. If they're lucky.

        At least Seolla confirms Sousuke is safe. Or as close as they can get with an insane clown hunting them. "Acknowledged, Uruz-11. Be careful."
BBSYS: Post 1182, 'Character Opening 26-08-2023' has been published to Character Announcements by Beam Coat.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

More fluff erupts from the animatronic hound at Seolla's shot before it falls circuitry erupting from the space where it's brain should have belonged.

A shadow appears again, lit by the park lights through the ceiling.  A giggling can be heard, and then the shape bounds down into the shadows, before rising up like a balloon, levitating to the opposite side and vanishing.  Second thoughts might be offered to their next action.

Roux may get a warning, a Newtype flash.  Right before he slams her with his cane so hard she strikes the security shield.  With a point of his cane, everyone is out of position, he has her dead to rights.

Except, a single stuffed toy falls off a shelf in the store.  It hits the ground pathetically.

It is the most insignificant thing happening right now.  It is the center of their world.  Because the moment it does, it triggers its inner workings.  Its legs move to and fro as it lets out adorable mews over and over.

And the invincible assassin grabs his face with both hands and SCREAMS!  Howling bloody murder.  The Newtypes present or watching all feel it.  Some see it.  His feelings are so LOUD, like a screaming infant demanding to be picked up, and comforted but tainted with the darkness of the world, with a clarity of experience of the savagery of humanity.

BGM Change - On the Run - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUJVacmswM8


A white room, sterile walls.  Checkered ceilings which you know ought to be black and white, but all colors distorting into blurs and shades of purple.  This is your world.  You lay here for days upon end, time has no meaning.  Your own shadow on the wall has more of a presence than you do.

Test tubes, labelled.  A microscopic needle guided by computers into cells with walls tugged by tiny pipettes.  A flash of a moment, with shaved head and wires connected to your scalp, your vision fixed on the slow draw of the syringe, and the red which contaminates your world.

You lay against the wall again, belly distended, head bowed.  A computer sequences your genome, marks it for changes.  Your eye opens asymmetrically as the remainder of your face droops, nerveless.  Men are in your room, with gas masks and surgeon caps, and white layers of gowns.  Your hand twitches in ways you cannot control beneath the electrodes and the needle.

Look beyond, you'll see the glass of the control room.  You can see it now, you couldn't before.  A black furred cat sitting there, watching.  Always watching, always staring.  A hand contacts it, stroking it.  The cat is given more affection than you are.

Your head twitches under the assault of the electrodes, memory distorting on your coffin like stretcher.

The cat, one eye is a different color from the others.  It's still staring.  It's always staring, as you run upon a treadmill, hooked to a gag to prevent you from biting, to hoses from the ceiling that connect to your belly and face.  The needle breaks the cell wall, you see it reflected in the darker hued eye of the cat, shining in the lighting of the room.  It is always staring, the predator to you as prey.

A synthesized voice reads out a log entry, as men in suits and labcoats stand over you.

'REA Assassination Skills Enhancement Experiment - clinical trial sample chart number forty six, code named Tongpu.  Confirmed.  A marked regression of the mind occurred during enhancement and development process.  Experiment canceled.  Sample to be permanently maintained at quarantined facility.'

The light goes out, leaving you drooling in the dark.  You keep staring at the spot where the cat lay long for months on end.

You are being led out in chains by two men, your features dull.  A familiar melody plays on the speakers overhead.  Your eye twitches, and suddenly your expressionless face cracks a smile.

He screams and screams again, eye twitching and unseeing as he pulls two SMGs from his coat and holds the trigger down as he fires not at Roux, but PAST Roux and to the side, peppering the stuffed cat with hot lead.  Casting both aside, he opens his coat and grasps a a handheld mortar from within, unfolding it as he fires again and again without any seeming need to reload between it. The mini-mall around them is disintegrating, one explosion after another.

There is one obvious escape from the imminent collapse of parts of the building.  A ride built into the store front.  An enclosure for a rollercoaster.  The tracks would be perilous to run, but a rollercoaster car has slid into view, a decorated chariot with hippo heads.

As the place comes down they'd already be riding away.  They have time for a breather.  Not a long one.

-=-=-

Dr. Murasame watches as another camera goes dark before Tongpu's onslaught.  "If only the fools hadn't shut down his trials prematurely, they would have seen the beauty of his magnum opus." He mutters to himself, recalling how he did not allow them to lock away his magnum opus.

It's a struggle, but he recalls it, the black furred cat with Heterochromia that belonged to his mentor.  His love for the damnable thing, that he let it have the run of the laboratories.

That even his personal quirks should be written into his creation feels fitting.

-=-=-

Kai raises up his head, and with a frown as Kikka notes they've lost Uruz-7 and stubs out his cigarette on his bedside table. Certainly the news Uruz-11 delivers soon is heartening but...  as matters progress, Kai reflects.

"I hate to admit it, but given how this is going Kikka, Sayla-  prefer we hedge our bets." He mutters to himself, "Never thought I'd be cheering for the goddamn Britannians arriving as the cavalry after the war and yet - here we are!"

It's quite possible, what Sayla said, that they might decide to use Murasame rather than imprison him.  He knows this but he'd rather that than the knowledge he sent an old friend to her death.

-=-=-

The rollercoaster takes them through dark tunnels with grinning devil masks, out into an open view of the park.  By all rights it feels like nothing could catch up to them right now.

A car is running in the opposite direction.  There's a shape riding upon it and-  Oh no.  This time it's Sayla that gets a Newtype flash, moments before something lashes out, gripping her around the neck, she lands on the tracks.  It is a fortunate thing that she got that warning in advance, as it was a weak grab, it slips off her neck before it would drag her further.  His car races around, before moving to a higher elevation from the other rollercoaster car.

As he stands, he begins firing from his cane again, rapidly from his higher elevation, balancing on a leg and cackling like a Madman as he rides raining down bullet gleefully around them as if he were trying to earn a prize in some carnival game.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Spike Spiegel has posed.
<poem>

"Damn thing," Spike spits, before he lowers his pistol, looking down at the animatronic hound. Then, he looks at Roux. "I didn't think it would be that easy."

He grimaces when he hears that Sousuke is down. He thought that happen; he certainly would have had trouble, if Pierrot chose to come with him. When Seolla speaks, he nods.

"Best way to make it safe for him is to take this guy out," Spike tells her.

He doesn't have any Newtype flash. He realizes Pierrot is coming because of a movement of the shadows, slams into Roux, and rebounds backward. Spike turns, pistol raised -- and then jerks as he hears the stuffed toy's pathetic, mechanical mewing and the horrified, wailing scream that follows.

He doesn't see what they do; doesn't sense what they do. There is the muzzle flash of two guns, rounds shredding through the stuffed cat, and the building.

He turns his head, spotting the hippo-shaped car. "There--move!" Spike yells. "This place is coming down!"

He leaps -- then turns, aiming for Mad Pierrot. He fires, two shots sent in his direction, before he lands in the back of the car and ducks low. The shots may well miss. Spike ducks low, taking a cluple of deep breaths, and then sees another passing of the shadows.

Sayla's grabbed at this time. Spike turns, and he draws a bead. He fires another three shots. Two come closer; one hits the tracks and flies off, with a spray of sparks. Then, one of Pierrot's shots clips his right shoulder. Blood splashes on the ground -- a gash is cut into his suit coat -- and Spike ducks down with a hiss.

"Heart-2, you all right?"


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Lucine Azul has posed.
<poem>
        "Compressed air units around the back where I came in, down by the ice cream display," Lucine reports to the others, her boots hitting against the walkway as she meets with Sayla and Spike. "Some....  animatronic, ah, cherubs?" They were animatronic, weren't they? Right?

        Roux brings up the possibility of reaching out to him to Spade-8, as Lucine catches a sense of the round man bouncing about like a figure in a surrealist depiction of a circus. ".... I'm not sure anyone willing to guard Murasame would be that easy to reach out too," Lucine quiet interjects as she moves at a clipped pace. There has to be some exit, some catwalk, something that would allow her to get to some of the controls, but there's nothing clearly marked.

        She swears if wasn't hearing the voices of others, this would be a far more difficult task to stay this level of calm. That goes out the window when Kikka reports losing contact with Uruz-7. Uruz-7, that would be... Sousuke?

        Spike yells at them to move, just as a sense within her tugs her to do the same at the smallest spark of fire.

        Her instinct is to leap back, not forward, tumbling back from the force of the blast back down the hallway she came. She barely manages to pull in tight into a controlled roll, managing to protect her head from being the first thing to hit the ground.


        White walls, checkered ceilings. Sterile rooms, cool tables, needles that burn.
                Twitch, twitch. Twitch, twitch.
                                        It hurts, the cat watches.
                                 A tragic song that never changes, only adding another verse.


        The sight of the cherubs admonishing her from above are nightmarish enough to convince Lucine to get up. The realization that there's compressed air units nearby, even more.

        But, it does give her an idea.        

        ---------

        Lucine's voice comes over the radio, nearly breatheless. "..... Loaded one of the carts with two tanks of compressed air. The one I marked the bill red. ....If explosions don't work, maybe it'll be a distraction. Will be heading your direction soon..."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Roux Louka has posed.
<poem>

Sayla presents them with a sobering and unpleasant idea, which is that this Dr. Murasame guy - who Roux has learned to cordially loathe, and who is likely going to get some extrajudicial encouragement to come along quietly if Roux has anything to say about it - will end up getting picked up by Britannia.

Roux is about to say something when she feels a sudden electric tingle up her spine, a warning - perhaps a sort of sense of the aura of something, a moment before she is smashed into hard enough to smash in turn against the security shield. The breath leaves her; there's a crunch that is hopefully just ribs popping and not breaking - the gun shifts in her hand as she turns her head and -

                        paff

A small toy falls over and begins to mechanically mewl.

Small, pathetic, precious; something that might be a treasure to a child, and...

Roux blinks several times.

He's screaming...

and he's feeling something else.

Roux does not quite see it, although she glances towards Sayla, some sort of impulse telling her that perhaps Sayla would. But the memory... an echo reaching her mind, remembering something she never saw. A grotesque body. Pain and isolation and a ward of clinical torment.

It's the same feeling as -

- the cat -

The cat is watching him.

The cat is watching him now.

The cat...

... was loved more than he - no, Roux thinks. It felt to him like the cat --

Roux feels a great surge of pity as the Mad Pierrot pulls his iron and begins to open fire, and so despite being really rather close, she does not try to ventilate him. "Shit! Watch it!" Roux calls out, even as the ystagger, as they run, as they end up in that escaping rollercoaster train towards --

WHERE? "Why," Roux wheezes now that she has a moment to sit down, "why is there a - rollercoaster - he's got a - cat phobia but he's just the, the blocker... trying to keep us from... from finding him. He's - got to be close - shit -"

Then something's happening to Sayla. She's on the tracks - Roux reaches out with her left arm, but her right hand has the gun and she's already orienting it towards the higher position of the Pierrot, wheezing as she does, "you fat bastard, I was feeling - sorry for you - stop - trying to kill us while we're - trying to - ugh!" She empties out the rest of the twelve-round clip, however forlorn the hope, and concludes by reloading around the time of the 'ugh'.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.
<poem>
        -A deluge of someone else's memory. That's what it is. Someone else's memory. Seolla has to keep telling herself that.

        But she remembers.

        Myriad needles testing her tolerances.

        Crowds of medical hands over her still half-awake self.

        Pushing, harder and harder, to exceed expectations, even while in blinding pain.

        Long weeks staring at nothing.

        The callousness of others at every pleading.

        ---Half forgotten things whose sheer pain makes them impossible to truly forget - even if Seolla became very, very good at it.

        ...The trials that 'Mad Pierrot' has overcome, broadcasting and flooding, become a chorus of struggle, as Seolla finds herself spilling with tears, silently but excessively. Overwhelming pain flooding back to her meeting with the still-pulsing adrenaline. It keeps her upright. She isn't sobbing into a heap from the recoil of these trials.

        ...but she's not the clearest-headed either. Her body feels paralyzed, hands shaky. There's a murmur under her breath over the radio, and it's low, even-keeled, almost monotonous.

        &lt;"...hah. ...he's not gonna relent. He's not gonna let us go or give up. It's the same reason I wouldn't."&gt;

        One footstep after the other. The rifle's returned and stowed with just as quick a motion as Seolla continues the chase onto the coasters. ''Again'' Pierrot's put someone she cares more about than anything into extremely mortal danger. It feels like her entire brain is on fire. The feeling of being unpeeled and in raw, searing pain is still fresh in her mind, leaking from her as a steady bass-line to the more cacophonous psychic transgressions Pierrot lets out.

        The moment Sayla's tossed onto the tracks themselves, Seolla leaps from the car she's commandeered to secure her safety, covering her with no further fear for her own life, sitting next to her simply due to assessing that as capable as Sayla is, she's hardly a high-octane frontline combatant, she's not going to be able to say, hop down to safety utterly intact.

        "...I...I'll protect her-" she sputters out to Roux passing by, her own SMG shaky in her hands. She's not shooting at Pierrot 'directly', but rather - trying to create deterrence, trying to keep the mad clown from getting too close to anyone else. Anything at a desperate moment like this.

        "...yeah, of course you're fighting so hard to stop us. It's the same reason I'm going to do everything in my power to protect the doctor here," Seolla murmurs, a side glance down at Sayla mid-reload to check on her safety, before one open eye down the sights keeps Pierrot's movements tracked.

        "For the both of us, it's for the sake of the first people who bothered to try and save us. I'm sorry in your case it had to be someone so many of us want dead. Consolation prize that we're trying not to kill him, but I'd be just as low on mercy as you even then."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Kikka Kobayashi has posed.
<poem>
"It's fine," Kikka murmurs of the Britannians swooping in to take Murasame for their own at the last minute. "Getting through Mad Pierrot is the toughest part by far in any case. Negotiating with Britannians sounds like a piece of cake in comparison, really."

They're split up... up against someone like the Mad Pierrot, Kikka isn't even sure if that's more or less advantageous. If they can force him to split his attention, that's one thing, but it means she needs to be coordinating the best she can.

"Uruz-11, he's... he's okay?" She tries to confirm Sousuke's safety, but her words become more strained, like there's something tugging at her head... until it's hard to say she's really feels there at her desk anymore.

She begins to feel something in between a third-party out-of-body experience and literally being in Mad Pierrot's place. A Newtype vision, and the forced empathy that follows. The realisation that this is how they molded him into the killer he is. She watches that beloved cat like a hawk, although she knows she's not the predator here.

But even still, there's the realisation that no matter how much pain he went through to become what he is, he's still the only thing between Murasame and justice. That she still needs to keep the people on the ground safe. "Heart-2, status!" Kikka demands, as Sayla gets that special treatment from the Mad Pierrot. "Are.. are you all right?" Off-comms, she whispers a little something to herself. "Sayla, please be okay... I can't bear to lose you too."

She wracks her brain for some sort of plan, as Lucine tries for the compressed air carts, Roux empties the rest of her clip. "I think Heart-6 is right." Kikka affirms. "It almost looks he's getting desperate, so Murasame must not be far away. Even someone like the Mad Pierrot can show their hand... he's not emotionless, after all." At least she ''hopes'' so, because she has a hard time believing the team can hold out for much longer.

"A distraction is a smart idea. If you can force his eyes elsewhere for just a moment... you might just be able to catch him off-guard long enough to lose him."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
<poem>
        "Roux!" Sayla yells, as Mad Pierrot comes out of the shadows, too late to do anything. She raises her pistol- but before she can fire the flash hits. Sayla's eyes go blank.

        When the vision finishes, Sayla's shaking. Experiencing such emotions raw, and viciously. Sayla feels a pang of sympathy... But it's sympathy she can't afford. Tongpu is still trying to kill them- still trying to protect Murasame. She's shaking. Her grip on her pistol is unsteady. "Poor bastard..." She mutters under her breath, but-

        "Run! Quickly, while we have a chance!" She shouts, desperately at Roux, as the building starts to collapse. Their way out is... a ride. A rollercoaster, running. It could be another part of the trap, but when it's that or be buried under rubble, she's gonna risk riding. They've all got to survive this.

        "...There's a first time for everything." Sayla responds darkly to Kai's 'hopes'. It's better than Murasame disappearing into the belt, but still... "Our goal is still Murasame. If the Britannians deal with him... That's for the better. We should-"

        And suddenly, Sayla's cut off and lets out a silenced yelp of pain as she is grabbed by the neck and pulled bodily from the car. Roux reaches for her- but the ride is going too fast. Sayla is sent rolling back down the tracks, left behind. Her arms are scraped up badly as the bounces along the coaster tracks as she covers her head to avoid the worst. There's no way she's catching up to the roller coaster on foot.

        There's a few breathless moments as she tries to orient herself, standing dizzily to her feet. She's alone- or she thought she was as Seolla leaps off to the coaster to cover her. She gives her a nod of thanks as Seolla keeps her covered. "Spiegel, Heart-6, keep going. We'll rendezvous soon." Sayla's voice is a little strained- even if it was a weak grab on her throat, it still hurts.

        "I'm intact, Spade-8. Uruz-11 and I are in the roller coaster tunnels. I'm not sure how deep we are but..." She pauses. She has an idea. "We'll find an exit. I need you to find me somewhere I can hook into the park speakers." It's a long shot... but it might be their chance.

        Meanwhile, she hears Sayla try to talk to Pierrot. She can hear her trying to reach out, as dangerous as it is. "We need to keep moving, Seolla." She whispers. "I don't think we're going to be able to talk him down at this point."

        She doubts Murasame ever tried to save the man. It seems antethical to the man he is. "Be careful."

5        Sayla doesn't just mean physically.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Cornelia li Britannia has posed.
<poem>
"Ma'am, there appears to be a violent gunfight unfolding in Space Land."

"I have eyes, Darlton. I half expect you simply wished an excuse to say that, as if this situation wasn't ridiculous enough."

"Hoh. Perish the thought, your highness."

"Hah."

It's a secure Britannian vessel that encroaches onto the festive fringes of Space Land. From the bridge, Cornelia li Britannia considers the data being displayed, and what information they can get from the ground, the twinkle of amusement that lingers in her gaze swiftly smothered out by the sharp, contemplative narrowing of her eyes.

"We aren't able to get a proper IFF identification off the unknowns," Darlton informs her, hands clasping behind his back, "but we have a few guesses."

"Yes," she mutters, a frown on painted lips. "So do I. That heat signature there -- that's the abomination?"

"Yes, ma'am. Given the scraps we've gathered... I'd suggest bringing Bart and Edgar with you. We can't rely on unknowns to support us; not when they're after our target."

Cornelia stares at the terminal for a few, quiet moments. And then she turns, unfastening her white cape and casting it aside decisively as she moves.

"No. Bart and Edgar are to maintain their position. The second we get a so much as a whiff of Murasame's rancid stench, I'm to hear about it. Understand?"

"Yes. But what about--"

"I will handle it."

Despite himself, Darlton smiles a rough smile as he watches his princess leave.

"Yes, your highness!"

                        --+--

Like invoking a dread urban legend by simply uttering their name that the Britannian vessel comes to a stop just on the outside of Space Land, and a general hail is sent out across open frequencies; whether Kikka answers or not, the small Britannian craft doesn't move from its position. Instead, something smaller still ejects out the back of it, turns a full, smooth one hundred and eighty degrees...

... and then takes to the skies, a shadow bedecked by a pair of wings flashing green lights as it soars overhead in a gush of wind.

Straight for Space Land.

                        --+--

It is just as the mad Pierrot's rollercar reaches its zenith - just as it has well and truly passed the other car by - that his childlike cackling is drowned out by the sudden sound of a BOOM, shuddering across the roller coaster rails.

It's a second later after the thunderclap that a large grenade round comes crashing in towards a living, urban legend, looking to try to crush him and his car before exploding into a violent, broiling fireball upon impact.

And up above the roller coaster hangs a single Gloucester, painted purple but lacking the signature horns that once adorned its rider's former mount, held suspended in the air by the glowing green throb of a mounted Float System.

&lt;"Dr. Murasame, I know you are watching, believing yourself safe in whatever dank little hole you are skulking in! So hear this! I am Cornelia li Britannia, Second Princess of Britannia. If you recognize that name, then you will know this to be fact: however much you may writhe and squirm like the worm you are..."&gt;

Normally, she wouldn't find it sporting, or honorable, or particularly satisfying, engaging someone on-foot like this. But given the circumstances?

&lt;"... there is no longer -any- escape for you!"&gt;

Yes; Cornelia li Britannia would absolutely bring a Knightmare Frame to a gunfight.

BBSYS: Post 1184, 'Character Opening 26-08-2023' has been published to Character Announcements by Beam Coat.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

As they return fire, Mad Pierrot doesn't even seem to feel the impacts of the bullets.  Occasionally if they look closely, there is a green flash and one might wonder if Sousuke was correct to those who know such things exist.  Is he utilizing a Lambda Driver or-

Spike, Roux - it's so difficult to hit a target moving so quickly at such an elevation, and yet he's firing down at them moving equally fast and it's like he's dead to rights.  No human should be so accurate with a gun, even enhanced limbs should be jarred enough that the recoil throws it off more, right?

Right?

Whereas Sayla and Seolla need to move, fast, either on the tracks, or figuring out a way down, because they're sitting ducks in comparison to the others.  Seolla's hail of SMG fire is met by another grenade, as a section of track just, vanishes.  Fortunately, far enough away that they aren't instantly dropped to the park below.

And then a Knightmare Frame arrives.  An announcement is given, the Britannian Viceroy, the Second Princess.  The Goddess of Victory - or the Witch of Britannia depending on your perspective.  Even someone like this damned clown should stand no chance against her.  Her grenade explodes consuming the section of track and the car on which he just stood.  Obviously he is dead.

It's only once she's finished speaking that she might notice he's hovering in mid-air, not but a few meters from her Knightmare Frame.  Waiting for her to finish, as if there is steps to this dance that must be followed for a proper killing.  He actually - reaches up to tip his hat to her, "WELCOME!" He shouts, and then his weight starts to fall from the track, floating down as he yells to the heavens.

"IT'S!  SHOWTIME!"

His levitation arrests erratically long before he would strike the ground, and then he shifts in a horizontal moving aerial, in ways noone ought to be able to move, forcing the Knightmare Frame to test it's mobility with its float system as it zigs and zags through the air, on a constant descent.  A harken makes contact with a field of green, bowling him aside in the air, but he stays afloat.

Until her lance contacts him, and rather than being blasted aside.  A field of green smashes into the electromagnetic lance.  There is a long moment where it crackles against it.  And then shockingly, rather than being impaled and reduced to a smear the shield sputters as he suddenly spins aside, and makes a quick descent.

Cackling, he begins to skip along the ground, near a line of carnival arcades.

And then he dances inside columns, in and out like a kid playing a game, trying to force her to smash through the place if he wants to take him out.  Around a column he goes, and as he emerges he does so with a MULS-P rocket launcher.  No.  That's ridiculous.

Two, MULS-P rocket launchers.  Each balanced upon a shoulder.

Each one begins to fire at Cornelia's Knightmare Frame, and even the shots that don't strike it head on hit looming carnival statues, and attractions.  It's like the whole park comes down upon her head should she descend low enough, but altitude doesn't save her necessarily.

As he suddenly abruptly levitates skywards, sliding behind her.  A shot fired, another at her flanks.  End over end he spins in mid-air, somehow able to keep up with her as he fires again and again and again.  Surely he should be out of ammunition by now.  One launcher falls, empty.

And then he tumbles down and up, from the backside of her Knightmare Frame to right in front of it, inside the guard of so many of its armaments.

She sees his grinning face, with one rocket launcher left, and one shot left within it.  It feels representative of everyone laughing at her, mocking her for her inability to protect Marianne, to find her killer.  Save this is not someone laughing out of earshot.

It is someone laughing in her face.  It feels like ''Murasame'' himself is laughing in her face, for his role in unleashing such a horror unto the world.

Just as Mad Pierrot fires a final shot of that rocket launcher point blank into her Knightmare Frame.

-=-=-

Within the employee lounge, Murasame is already gathering his things as he listens to Cornelia's pronouncement.  It is not that he is ignoring it, certainly not.  The fact that he's taking action at all suggests how seriously he is taking Cornelia's presence here.  As he slowly, deliberately packs a briefcase.

There is no sense of haste.  Tongpu would kill the Britannian Princess of course, kill everyone here.  People would be coming however, investigating.  It would be a mess.  He would have to switch locations, reach out to his contacts.

By his reckoning he has time however to reach the spaceport before the Britannian Union locks down the whole Colony.  Grasping a briefcase, he pushes open an employee fire escape, and momentarily stops and stares at a flight of his stairs.  At his age, and unmedicated, and his state even such a thing will take time.

"No escape she says." He speaks with the self confidence of a man who feels he has everything figured out.  He takes the first step with his hand on the rail.  There are more tremors on the right side of his body than is comfortable.

He wishes he had his pills.

-=-=-

For a short while, there is only that infernal melody playing, the sounds of gunfire and explosions have ceased.  And near where the Knightmare Frame fell, right beside the hollow head of a dapper dog something emerges.

A tiny animatronic clown on stilts walks up to the disabled suit up to its hatch, repeating the same thing over and over as if oblivious to the state of the pilot or frame, "Hello!  Hello!  Hello!  Hello!"

-=-=-

Mad Pierrot is missing from sight, until the moment Spike catches an object floating in inverse.  A single bullet from a cane strikes Spike's gun.

He lands across the avenue, cane pointed in his direction.

They each stand across from each other in the standoff, the marching band advancing down the middle with a neon lit carriage at the fore, capering animals celebrating.

The world slows down, the music grinds to what feels like a maddening halt.  Senses sharpen from the adrenaline.  He can hear the grind of his pointed teeth against each other, see the fleck of drool at the corner of his smiling mouth, the look of glee within the eyeholes of mask.

Maybe it's that time.  Maybe it's his time.

See you Space Cowboy...


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Spike Spiegel has posed.
<poem>

"Bullets aren't even getting through," Spike mutters, as he ducks back down in the car. What were those green flashes?

"I'm not sure if this guy is 'willing,'" Spike answers Lucine. He stays quiet for a moment, as Seolla speaks -- monotonous -- about whether he will give up. His eyes narrow.

"Then we're gonna do what we came here for," Spike says. "And put an end to the guy behind this. Everyone has to play their hand, eventually."

He glances at Sayla -- then nods. Because, at the end of the day, if the Britannians grab Murasame, he probably doesn't get paid. Then, he keeps moving.

Spike's eyes scan for the cart that Lucine mentioned. Compressed air? He can use that. He is less sure about being able to use the cats, though it warrants a nod to Roux. Maybe something will present itself.

Kikka tells them that they might be able to distract him. "Yeah," he answers her. "Got it."

He starts to reach into his suit coat for a flashbang, but then his jaw hangs open as a Gloucester slams down into the car with Pierrot. His mouth hangs open, before he says hurriedly: "That's the Second Princess! It's not just some Britannian troops! We--shit!"

He rises up over the cart's edge, looking as he ''thinks'' Pierrot fell and realizes how wrong he was.

The Knightmare Frame goes up in flame with the rockets fired into it.

He hops out -- scurries down the tracks -- and draws his gun, approaching where the Knightmare Frame is fired upon, battered and with fiery explosions still coming off it. He has his gun aimed at it.

But he doesn't see Pierrot. That's a mistake, as the cane's bullet slams into his gun. It spins up, slams into the pavement, and skids away.

Spike's eyes flicker to it. Then, they look back to Mad Pierrot; the light catches them, one glinting brighter than the other.

Maybe this is his time. It was always going to send sooner or later. But...

Maybe not.

Spike's fingers drop down to his side. Then, he reaches for his coat -- and yanks out his last weapon. A knife. The blade gleams in the light, and Spike brings his free hand. Flow like water, he tells himself.

He moves to the side, eyes locked on Mad Pierrot, and his body tenses like a spring not yet released.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Roux Louka has posed.
<poem>

Seolla's moving to protect Sayla on the tracks which is good because Roux can feel a sort of sick ghosting dread at the prospect of something happening. But Seolla's speaking to herself and Roux can only vaguely tell she's speaking because of some kind of subliminal impulse.

Kikka is speaking - "That's the problem," Roux answers her, getting her wind back. "If you can - like, see a cat thing or something we could use that - like a sculpture or -"

Sayla's looking for a PA linkin to address Murasame in whatever hole he's hiding in. That seems reasonable, yeah, and Roux's eyes flick around. Oh god where is Spike? Is he okay? No, he's right there. Roux startles a little, perhaps at seeing the blood. "Hey," she asks Spike, "do you --" THOOM!

That wasn't Pierrot. Roux looks upwards and sees a Knightmare Frame. Never mind the model: it's a Knightmare Frame, here, in a colony, and that means one thing and one thing only. Britannia has arrived. Roux stares with a certain dread. Even one KMF is going to be impossible for them. Will -

They're speaking. It's a Britannian, one of the ladies. Okay, her voice isn't dripping with poison. It's...

The Second Princess...

and...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cAnOt74e9_Q


Roux's shoulders straighten. "... I think she's on our team," Roux breathes, with wonder. "All hail Britannia or something."

Tongpu pops up with anti-MS rocket launchers. "Oh for &#42;&#42;&#42;&#42;'s sake!" Roux complains, even as they get off of the roller-coaster train afterwards. She disappears from immediate view, separating somewhat from Spike and the others. Is this stupid? Maybe - but their goal is to find Murasame - if she can find him or spot him and call him out then they're that much closer.

Running past a rusted-over squirt-shooter game, Roux -- pauses and reaches over to grab something in a forlorn, half-emptied rack, wrapped in faintly-rotting bioplas transparency.

What was it?

NOW:

Covered in fragmenting transparent plastic, the object flies from nearly fifteen yards away, thrown with a forlorn hope of a full body throw that's making Roux's still-not-quite-healed forearm scream at her. She can take it.

It topples, the plastic glittering in the neon backscatter of the electrical parade. It may briefly enter Spike's peripheral vision.

It is chubby and stout and vaguely lozenge-shaped, with sewn on eyes and puffy little snakes of limbs and a shape that would warm the heart of someone who's important person had won it for them.

What does it resemble?

It's a cat, obviously. Roux Louka will use your phobias for combat advantage.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Kikka Kobayashi has posed.
<poem>
The Britannian vessel finally arrives in Space Land, with ''Princess Cornelia'' announcing herself, adorned in that signature purple Knightmare Frame. Receiving the hail, Kikka decides to respond in kind.

"Britannian Forces, Princess Cornelia, this is auspicious timing." She's an interviewer and journalist now, she knows how to butter people up. "We're a group of private investigators chasing a lead against one Doctor Murasame, hoping to finally bring such a horrific science criminal to fair justice. I can only assume you're here for the same reason, so let me offer you word of advice: watch out for the clown." Cornelia likely will not understand what she means until her Gloucester is toppled in short order by the seemingly bulletproof Mad Pierrot.

It's starting to look hopeless... "This guy can even fight mobile weapons on foot... ''with'' MS weapons!" Kikka gasps, and the worst part is that now she knows exactly how he can first-hand. It just means it's their time to unleash each of their final gambits, like those Bounty Hunters with a surprising amount of tenacity. Even Roux uses Tongpu's phobia against him. Sayla has an idea... park speakers. "Got it, Heart-2 Try... here!" She marks down the coordinates and sends them to Sayla to pull off her final long-shot.
Sousuke Sagara has connected.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.
<poem>
        "Hah...exactly. There's no force in the world that'd talk him down." Seolla shakes her head and picks Sayla up just enough to carry her away from the brunt of the explosion, gasping for breath as the collapse of the track leaves her heel just barely off the edge, a perilous stumble that threatens to send her and Sayla toppling alike, were she not quick to hook her other foot forward and reel herself back in.

        The arrival of the Britannian cavalry does set Seolla on edge just a ''little'', like maybe this somehow got ''worse''? But no - it's clear that this is the Britannian pursuit they mentioned before - and that buys them a little bit of time.

        Boy did Seolla need it. Finding a strategically located emergency stairwell, Seolla at last ferries Sayla to safety - to the coordinates Kikka sent over to give Sayla her one key attempt at saving the day. And shortly after...

        Right next to that point, Seolla backs against a wall, sliding down and falling to a seat, legs curling in the lower she gets. "...gkh. I'm...whatever you've got planned, Doctor, I'm...I'm counting on you. I've...hit my limit. The Britannians, that mercenary, whatever you have - I'm...I'm..."

        Hands clasped together in front of her knees, which veil most of her face from view. The psychic shock is just too raw. A nightmarish contortion of everything she'd deleted for being too painful, still echoing in her thoughts, sticking and resonating. She's expended the fight or flight response, and just as she suspected - the moment she took a breath is the moment she utterly collapsed.

        Even the sidearm right at her hip, the grip just inches from her hands - feels impossibly far away. Even if someone came for them right this second, there's so little left in the tank that it'd be a miracle to even try and shoot back.

        ...It's even a bit of an ordeal to get Seolla to be verbal at all by this point.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Lucine Azul has posed.
<poem>
        Running out, Lucine comes out to a sight: a Britannian Knightmare Frame, and not just any Knightmare Frame, but one owned by the Second Princess, complete with all its finery.... being taken on by Pierrot le Fou.
        And the latter just may win.

        Lucine is now glad she did not take the Dianthus here.

        The Knightmare Frame is down, and even worse.... le Fou is gone. _Where is le Fou._

        Lucine focuses from her vantage point, first on the slightly more familiar presences of people like Sayla, and Spike, and-- ah. With le Fou being confirmed as somewhere &#42;not&#42; in that direction and the possibility of a potental political catastrophe, the young woman climbs over the debris of a fallen mascot where she was hiding and darts towards the Knightmare, leaping over a discarded trashcan.

        ".... She's still alive," Lucine confirms. ".... Very much so."

        And Lucine will &#42;not&#42; stand in front of her.

        Better to stay in the shadow of the large Knightmare Frame if you're going to play support, after all.

        She hesitates, feeling the brush of Seolla's knotted tangle of emotions. Her hands shake.

        These are not the hands that can comfort Seolla; she doesn't know her pain well enough to make it seem like it's anything more than callous sympathy.

        But, there are things Lucine &#42;can&#42; do to support her-- by supporting the team.

        ".... I'm focusing on relaying support to Spike. Hang in there. That.... was rough." Saying anything more may be too much. ".... We'll get this done."

        Lucine focuses, but then remembers her earlier plan, looking for the cart she had marked. It takes a moment to find the marked vehicle from her vantage point, but then-- ".... Spike. Cart with the compressed air is coming to the hole in the tracks. It won't hit him, but the distraction might net you an in. it'll happen behind him, to your right."

        She spots Roux throw something towards Spike. Is it something useful, like a gun, or crowbar, or something that flies up easily, like it was stuffed with something light and warm and cottony, more worthy of love than you, who lies underneath the checkered ceiling.

        "....!" It's... a stuffed toy cat. Cat.

        ".... oh.... The cat... is more worthy of love than him... that's... what we saw..." 'We', like they were a collective mind, but in reality, Lucine only got the connection just now, despite seeing what the others had. What... Seolla had seen. ".... It may throw him off."

        The man's moves are liquid, but le Fou's floaty movements may get the best of the cowboy.

        ".... Left." Only a second's worth of warning, too quick to be any more specific with a warning. "Right." His right? Spike's right? Who's to say, but Lucine's yellow eyes are opened wide.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
<poem>
        Sayla runs as fast as she can, as the track ahead of them disappears in an explosion. Shit. "There's got to be a maintenance ladder or something here!" She calls out to Seolla, looking around for a way down.

        And that's when the Cavalry comes. "The Second Princess!? Here!?" Of all the damnable luck, why did one of Britannia's most dogged soldiers have to turn up.

        Still, a distraction is a distraction, if they can just make it-

        And then the clown does the impossible again, shouldering MULS-P rocket launchers like it's nothing. "Seriously!?"

        "Got it." Kikka gives a location, and Sayla breaks into a run, supported by Seolla. It's a hard trip- and when they make it to that point, Seolla collapses. "Seolla? Hey, hey, stay with me!" The way she's shutting down... Damnit. Damnit. "We'll get this done, Seolla. And then we're all going home. You too. Even if have to carry you out myself."

        Sayla pulls open the comms panel- It's little more than a microphone for announcements, but it'll do. She pulls out her phone, and quickly turns it on. "Come on, wake up, wake up."

        She flicks to the video app, scrolls quickly, and then-

        A loud 'mrrrrrrooowrr' echoes around the park. "You're talkative today." Comes Sayla's voice, prerecorded. Another long mrrow echoes, before giving way to purrs. Then more mews, as the video on her phone plays her scritching a young red Abyssinian cat on the chin. "I swear, you haven't been this loud since you were a kitten."

        That gets another loud, echoing mrrrroooowr, before the video starts on a loop again.

        Roux clearly isn't the only one thinking of using phobias as a weapon. There's too much on the line to play fair- and Mad Pierrot just dropped a KMF like he was playing a game with them. Any edge they can get is something. "Finish this, Spike... We don't have much time." She rests a free hand on Seolla's shoulder, a silent reminder that she's not getting left behind.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Cornelia li Britannia has posed.
<poem>
''Britannian Forces, Princess Cornelia, this is auspicious timing.''

&lt;"Hah. It seems you've come quite prepared for this investigation, knowing how to wield a silver tongue like that."&gt;

The voice that greets Kikka is a gruff one, somehow both stern and yet - especially by Britannian standards - more amused and open.

&lt;"This is Major Andreas Darlton of the Glaston Knights. We have no quarrel with 'private investigators' at this time, provided you realize you now operate under the auspices of Britannia."&gt;

Turnabout and wordplay is fair game. After all--

&lt;"Dr. Murasame will be leaving with us. Anything else is no concern of... hm? --Your highness! Princess Cornelia! Are you--"&gt;

And just like that, that open communication cuts off.

                        --+--

Cornelia li Britannia doesn't believe in being too prepared.

Using a KMF against a human target is overkill by any estimation, but this is no human target. The princess knows enough to know that. She prides herself in her ability to fight. Her ability to win. She has never lost a duel.

But even she must begrudgingly admit there are things that exist in this world beyond even her scope.

So she does not blink or hesitate as she fires off the Gloucester's underslung grenade round. Her features are impassively severe as she looks out past the blooming fireball towards what faces she can see assembled. Very few are familiar; some, though...

Cornelia frowns. Her eyes shut.

"Darlton," she begins over that secure communication line, "it's time. The abomination--"

Is directly in front of her.

"What?!"

Indigo eyes widen at the sight of a bizarre ball of a man, literally floating in front of her. For a moment, all she can do is stare, perplexed at what she sees. It's not just that he lived. It's not just that he's -flying-. It's the entire presentation of this bearded, absurd clown of a man, behaving like-- like--

--some sassy, spoiled child--!

&lt;"Your highness! Princess Cornelia! Are you--"&gt;

"Insolence!"

Darlton's shouts fall upon deaf ears; to the princess' credit, despite the bizarre, superhuman display she is witnessing, that is the one and -only- time she hesitates; she earned her titles for a reason, after all.

Both of them.

So it is that the Goddess of Victory - the Witch of Britannia - chases after the erratic movements of the Mad Pierrot as best she can; harkens fire, only to be intercepted by that strange, green field -- the same, she imagines in those chaotic moments, that completely deflected her shot. The tip of her lance crashes against it, the discharge of electromagnetism making it sputter for a few seconds --

But it's not enough. Pierrot hits the ground just as the Float System buoys the Gloucester upwards just barely above it; legs swinging forward with the kick like a puppet rocking on strings, the forehead-mounted Factspheres splay open with a sonar's pulse that provides nothing of use, nothing that tells her anything about this man - this creature's - nature.

The assault rifle of the Gloucester swings up.

She fires. Pierrot dons his anti-MS rocket launchers. She has passed the realm of the absurd into the realm of something beyond her ken.

It doesn't matter how swiftly she maneuvers the Gloucester through the falling rubble of a shattered pig's skull.

It doesn't matter how accurately she can fire on such a small target.

It doesn't matter how long she has fought or how many victories she achieved.

It doesn't matter.

She feels the heat of twin rockets exploding across the back and sides of that mass-production Gloucester, cooking the cockpit into a sauna. The Gloucester rocks forward, its right arm blowing free and lance IMPALING the ground beneath it. She pulls on the controls --

--just in time to see le Fou tumbling back into sight.

Grinning at her.

They're always so smug.

These -- things. The Geass. Psycho-Frame. The madness of the void that snatched her victory in the REA from her. ... The thing that snatched Marianne from her, from all of them, without a shred of evidence to show for it.

how is she always so late against these threats

                why can't she just be BETTFWOOM

A plume of force and flame engulfs the Gloucester as the force of that final shot literally SNAPS the thing backwards with so much force the cockpit's emergency eject activates. The black bloc, half-melted from the heat, rockets with minor struggle out of the Gloucester's chest as the remaining, scorched frame CRASHES into the ground. Space Land shudders beneath its impact, metal shrieking as it tears across the courtyard into a giant statue of a goofy dog.

The cockpit itself? Crashes into the rubble the Gloucester's firefight with the madman made, sizzling in silence.

                        --+--

"i'm sorry, marianne."

A tiny animatronic clown walks up to the opened hatch of the Gloucester's cockpit.

"Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello! Hell--SKRRAEEEEEElloOEEEE--&#42;"

Lucine arrives just in time to see the pointed end of a sword blade emerge from the depths of that cockpit STAB through the head of that clown. It shrieks garbled, electric nonsense, sputters, and collapses.

A second later, Cornelia li Britannia stumbles out, eyes narrowed, sword gripped in her left hand.

Her right hangs uselessly at her side, blood drooling down her arm all the way to the very tips of her crimson-stained gloves.

It's a state that's no better than the rest of her as she drops from the cockpit with a stagger. A broken rib informs her that was a poor choice; the throb in her head intensifies as blood pools from her scalp down against her purple and freshly-crimson-smeared lower lip.

"Hello." she says, with all unpleasantness.

A moment passes, before she realizes Lucine is there. She looks at her, left eye squeezed shut from the blood. For a moment, she swears she sees her sister... before the sight of a woman close to Euphemia's age crystallizes instead.

"..."

Cornelia straightens. And despite her current state, she walks, straight-backed, past Lucine, as if unwilling to divulge a single ounce of weakness in front of a stranger.

She pauses, at the young woman's side.

"... You should not be in a place like this."

And then she continues to move, sheathing her gunblade and lifting her only working hand to her ear as she speaks to someone with a throaty rasp.

"Darlton? No. There will be time for that later. Murasame has... doubtless taken the bait. Tell me his location..."

</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

It all happens at once.  An feline shaped object flies into his vision, even as cat noises from the video play overhead the far too loud mrrrrrrooowrr.  The angle of his vision changes subtly to look for that which he fears.

The marching band's lights reflect in Spike's eye.  There's a glint.  It changes the hue of his right eye, subtly, like that of a cat.  That cat.  An unflinching being with nerves of steel, watching him.  And the man that has Spike dead to rights-

-flinches, and recoils.  His face alit with a look of horror, of the prey that knows his predator.

All Spike has to do is dive to the right.  Just as he was warned.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Spike Spiegel has posed.
<poem>

Spike's eyes briefly glance at the thing that Roux throws. A cat. Briefly, because he has to keep eyes on Mad Pierrot. He hears Kikka speaking over the radio; he can't answer. Seolla sounds pained; he cant answer.

"Mm." That's his affirmation to Lucine, when he hears where the cart will be coming.

To the right.

He's the only one down here with Mad Pierrot; the others are injured (physical or mental) or incapacitated. So when Mad Pierrot jerks back, his face a rictus of horror, Spike moves.

Broken ribs, a bloodied arm, these things don't slow him. He dives right, and his hand ''snaps'' out.

And his knife flies straight and true for Mad Pierrot.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

As Spike dives, he throws that knife, and the cane fires a single shot.  It contacts Spike's left shoulder with a gout of blood to match the wound to his right.   Mad Pierrot does not fire again, because...

...  the knife Spike threw is impaled in his left thigh.  Somehow, Cornelia's lance must have shorted out whatever shielding he had.

Crimson begins to stain his faded but otherwise immaculate black suit.  He looks upon it with a whimper.  His face cracks as the whimper becomes a sob, and he crumples to the ground, bawling, rolling around as he screams like a toddler that scraped his knee, "MOMMMMYYY! AAA-IT HURTS!" A foot contacts ineffectually on the ground as he grabs his wounded leg, "IT HURTS!  MOMMY!"

Men hover over him observing his suffering.  Not a single one reaches out to him.  Not a single one comforts him.  They observe, they record.  He suffers.  They watch.

Howling and sobbing, the tear streaked clown rolls to and fro, as the marching band dances past him.  Animatronic animals capering in celebration of his suffering.  He turns over, pleading the same word over and over in horror, "MOMMY!" To a titanic hound with drums, that takes one plodding step, after another. "MAMA!"

A cat with different hued eyes stares at him.  A predator.  Always inert, laying, watching.  He watches it rise, as he always knew it eventually would.  It's paw raises.

A foot larger than his whole body comes down upon him, silencing him, to the cheerful tune of the carnival.

Look up to the glow of the sign of SPACE LAND, the spotlights, the loops of the track.  The carnival tune sounds so much like a requiem for another messed up victim of the cruelties of this world.

There is not enough of him left to even identify, much less bury.  Perhaps this too is a small mercy for those here.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Spike Spiegel has posed.
<poem>

Blood splashes on the ground behind Spike. He goes down in a heap, rolling a few times. When his left arm tries to push him up, it gives out. He falls back down.

But he sees the knife blade stuck inside of Mad Pierrot's thigh, blood drawn and pooling. Spike stares at him, as he wails and cries in pain.

And then he sees a shadow, again.

He doesn't look away when the foot crashes down -- burying him underneath it. Spike stares for a moment longer.

"He's dead," he says into his radio. "Get Murasame before he tries to make a break for it."

Then Spike falls back down.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Cornelia li Britannia has posed.
<poem>
Murasame is close. So close to freedom. So close he can taste it.

So close he can soon scoff at the foolishness of a Britannian princess--

                FWP                 FWP

The sound is barely like a sharp whistle as two bullets, discharged on electric rail, pierce Murasame through both his kneecaps.

"You didn't listen to me."

Slowly, just in front of the man, Cornelia li Britannia stalks forward. Her bloody lips pulled into sharp, merciless neutrality.

"So listen now."

Her single open eye cold and unforgiving.

"Writhe. And. Squirm. WORM."

As far as the Second Princess of Britannia is concerned...

Murasame has no right to feel his feet on free ground.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Kikka Kobayashi has posed.
<poem>
That gruff and stern, yet surprisingly friendly voice that responds to her lays out Britannia's terms in no unclear terms. Murasame is going with them. "Surely we can negotiate in more detail when our lives aren't all at risk, right?" She shoots back calmly, but then the transmission suddenly cuts off.

It's not hard to see why as soon as you look at the carcass of that purple Knightmare, the Second Princess missing the mark to carry out her revenge.

But they're each able to strike their own blows against Pierrot - as Sayla carries out their plan. It's a dirty trick for sure, using his phobia against him like this... but it's all they could do. Somehow, all Spike needs to do him in is a stab with a knife.

The few moments before Pierrot falls dead, crushed in a certain blow of irony feel like an eternity. As she watches, experiences that vision of those men who simply watch his suffering... she can't help but feel like she's one of them. "You're gonna be the last of Murasame's victims that has to die like this, Pierrot." She says, seemingly just to herself.

"Ground forces, retrieve Murasame! He shouldn't have any tricks left up his sleeve, so don't let him get away!" She relays Spike's final message before he passes out.

"In the meantime, someone go ahead and check on our bounty hunter friend, carry him back if you have to. We still want to carry out our end of the deal, after all." They really couldn't have done it without him... Cowboys really are something, huh?

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Sousuke Sagara has posed.
<poem>
A door that's supposed to be sealed remains so.

Until it explodes completely inward. A good eye will spot where the breach charge was, scored and dented in.

Through the smoke and disturbed dust charges a young man - not even twenty - with scruffy brown hair and a scar on his cheek and gray eyes.

He levels his weapon at the first standing person he sees, dust kicking up around his feet...as he finds himself with his iron sights on Cornelia li Britannia.

His eyes narrow, the barest fraction. One is swollen. He took a beating earlier. It hurts to breathe. Likely a rib is cracked. Not a problem.

What should he do...an SRT's role is to make decisions like this! That's why he has the discretion he does! But--

"Uruz-7," Sousuke Sagara reports into a headset flush against his cheek.

"I have made contact with the target and a Britannian princess. Target is..."

His eyes flick down to Murasame for the barest second necessary for recognition.

"...disabled. Orders."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Roux Louka has posed.
<poem>

Roux staggers closer. She would have been too late if Spike hadn't moved. there. There's screaming -- and it isn't Spike --

It's quite a performance, but Roux can't watch it. Because it isn't a performance, is it? In this moment, that man, whatever augmented nightmare he might be now, dies in pain by cold machinery in an abandoned amusement park.

Roux looks towards the carnival mechanism. Roux probably won't like amusement parks, conceptually, going forwards in her life.

Her eyes close for half a second.

Spike speaks - he's alive. "Don't move too much," she answers him, as her arm - sore but functioning - flexes. She gets another reload for the smartgun ready, but she hasn't shot this one. Roux counts down - 1 in the chamber, 12 in the clip, 13 in the second one. Ought to be enough, she thinks.

Because that's why they're all here, isn't it? This has to be why the Princess is here. That's why whatever stuck-up guy with an asshole the size of an oxygen molecule tried to tell them they'd be taking him into custody under their own authority. So much for hailing Britannia, Roux thinks.

No, she thinks, no: this guy blazed a horrible, bloody trail into people's brains. She's seen other people following it. Roux gives Spike one last look and then breaks into a trot down the street, weapon held with both hands. There's an explosion, which isn't helpful until the pained and crackling voice of Uruz-7 echoes in and THAT's when Roux knows which way to go.

"Uruz-7, Heart-6," Roux continues. "How many with her?"


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Lucine Azul has posed.
<poem>
        '... You should not be in a place like this.'
        
        Lucine glances ahead, feeling that pride, as if to outshine any moment lacking the adequate amount of grace. That strange iota of something... nostalgic? Familiar? No, mistaken.

        The Second Princess walks away, the same Lucine once tried to shoot, once upon a time, but that was another day.

        Lucine's not sure if the heat in her cheeks is from being treated like she didn't belong here, from someone recognizing her own assessment of whether or not she belonged here, or something else.

        =======

        The man cries and wails as if he was a child, as his torturers close in, mocking him, repeating his words back to him in his hour of need.

        Twitch twitch, crackle crackle, snap,
                and silence.

        It never changes. Different actors, different stages, different pain. There's just another verse added, each time. One day, it's Liam, another, it's Yuliana, another, Leina, and now-- "..... Monsters.... all of them... all of them that did this..." Lucine's words sound husky, her throat tightens, as she stares ahead.

        Spike falls, and it snaps Lucine from the spell. "...!"

        Running over, she sees Roux telling him not to move. "...... Go ahead. I can take over from here. I know first aid." Her ability to staunch any bleeding will be limited to what she can grab or tear, but at the very least, Spike will have an eye on him.

        She wipes her eyes with the crook of her elbow, and breaths a sigh, looking over Spike's injuries. ".... Looks like you got that bounty, Spike. .... Better not die, or we'll have to split your pay between all of us."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

It's a struggle, getting down those stairs.  One shuffling step after another, he nearly slips several times, but he makes it.  And then he tries to pick up the pace down the hallways to the escape.  He knows that Tongpu will take care of everything.

So why are things suddenly so silent outside?  Even in these tunnels he should still hear explosions, gunfire.  "It's done then." He mutters to himself, suddenly uncertain.

His mentor's creation is invincible.

So why does he feel such dread?

Shaking it off, he smirks.  No.  The Princess is dead.  His contacts in BioNET will surely reward him for the chaos that this will plunge Britannia into with their 'Goddess of Victory' dead.  They won't drag their feet any longer on giving him everything he requires.

And then he feels something.  More he feels ''two'' somethings.

His legs collapse out from under him, he hasn't even had time to cry out before his face smashes the ground, glasses cracking and twisting, the wrist holding his briefcase being met with a sharp crack.

The older man is stunned momentarily, before he then cries out in pain, each attempt to howl his agony being met by a gasp that interrupts his ability to adequately articulate the volume of his pain.

Cornelia gets his wish, for he cannot stand, he can only squirm, mouth gaping like a fish.  The older man, who has visited so many countless horrors into this world in the name of a science unfettered by ethics stares at her, each breath coming out like a pained cry, as he rolls around, grasping at his legs ineffectually.

It's like the universe has a sense of irony, that he should suffer in a similar way as the clown.

A single coherent word finally leaves his lips as he stares at her, tears streaming down his eyes, "...Huu...Howwww?" How?  How what?  How did she survive?  How did she get past the invincible assassin?

Or is he finally realizing, to his horror, that his master's magnum opus has erased from this world?  And perhaps soon - all of his works, along with it?

A quick glance towards Sousuke as he mentions 'Uruz-7' alarmed.

Sousuke will understand instantly, that he knows his reputation too.  Because slowly, it's as if the man is subtly crawling away from him, as if worried his death would soon come from another angle.

Another word leaves his lips as he stares at him through mauled glasses, "Ple...Please..." Is he actually...  begging for his life?  Yes.

Because beneath all of his pride, ego, and self importance he understood one thing.  All of his knowledge and scientific discovery couldn't die with him.

-=-=-

Kai Shiden listens to Kikka's updates, until he hears Sousuke's statement, "With the Britannian Princess?  ...  Shit." Kai closes his eyes, considering the matter.

He could ask them all to overpower her, but-  is he really going to ask them all to openly become enemies of Britannia?

For a time he's tempted.  Very tempted.  He has no love of Britannia.  And he wants to put this asshole in a place so deep and dark that he'll never see the light of day again.

But-  Sayla's already in enough legal troubles with her daughter, and some of these kids need to live a normal lives.

"Won't tell Spike what to do here, he's the pro and it's his bounty.  He wants to go for the big score?  Then-  I won't tell him no.  But if it were me Uruz-7?  I'd stand down.  Picking a fight outright with the Second Princess of Britannia... too much heat.  She could have the place surrounded.  Some of you have lives to live."

A pause, as his face takes on a cynical smirk- "Maybe talk to her as 'Concerned Citizens'.  Negotiate - though she's got a reputation for not being one for that."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
<poem>
        Those screams are going to haunt Sayla. The begging, crying for someone to help him-

        But no one ever came. They just watched him suffer.

        But the nightmarish clown has vanished, replaced with a terrified man crying for his mother. She looks away from the grim parade as it marches.

        This was too cruel an end. One any number of Murasame's experiments could have. Dying scared and alone, screaming for their loved ones.

        When she hears the telltale sound of a body crushed by an enormous wait, she kills her phone. "...Spade-8, he's down. Tell me you have eyes on Murasame."

        A younger Sayla probably would have thrown up. Even for someone who has seen her share of death, it's a horrid way to go.

        She reaches down to haul Seolla up, and support her arm over one shoulder. "Come on. Time to move." She whispers, quietly. "Uruz-7, are you back with us?" She shakes her head. "Spade-8, keep trying to reach him- if you can't someone has to collect him before Britannia doesn't."

        And then the whistle of the gun discharging is heard. Almost silent. But not silent enough. "Damnit!"

        Her hand reaches for her sidearm, in case it's needed. She doesn't abandon Seolla, propping her up best she can-

        And then she hears Sousuke over the radio. This wasn't what she was hoping for. "...I'm heading over, Uruz-7. Stand down." If they start a fight with the Britannians here, after that... they don't have a chance.

        As she approaches the field, she calls out. "Your Highness." She says, to Cornelia. She's aware of the woman, and not just by reputation. Unfortunately, the only Britannian princess Dr Mass has been on good terms with was Euphemia.

        "While I appreciate your intervention," Sayla says, only partially lying through her teeth. "I would like to make a request of you." She knows she's in a weak position, with Seolla over her shoulder. Sousuke gives her some legs to stand on.

        "You're aware of Dr Murasame's crimes, otherwise you wouldn't be here." She breathes out, slowly. "His most recent crimes were against people in my care." Sayla's voice is firm, calculated, despite the beating they just took. She looks down at him, bleeding on the floor. He certainly won't be walking anywhere. Begging for his life. Sayla looks at him with disdain. Hatred.

        "I would like to make a request of you, your Highness. I would like to ensure Murasame answers for his crimes myself." She knows it's unlikely to work. Cornelia is enraged- and she considers this her prey. But vengeance, that's a motivator that Britannians can understand. "Would you consider my request?"

        They're in no condition to fight against a KMF squadron at this point. She can't stop Cornelia walking away with him. But she can appeal.
Teletha Testarossa has connected.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Seolla Schweizer has posed.
<poem>
        Just short of utterly shutting down.

        Just at the precipice of going inert.

        -the 5% of Seolla that can hold on still knows. The flame may have gone weak, but it must still be maintained. It might all still go wrong. She may still have to give some effort. She may still have to steel some resolve. Her posture may be defensive, but her eyes track the situation all the same. Locked onto Cornelia and Spike. Breathless. Waiting. Still the searing in her thoughts is laced with iron.

        -the death throes spill out, and it is like severing the final string of a marionette.

        One hand flying up to hold onto Sayla's - Seolla's posture slumps sideways against her leg, sucking in one pained breath after another, releasing with a long, agonized shudder - over and over, knees slick with the glistening of her tears.

        A face she never wants to see again fills her mind at those desperate calls for a mother.

        A face that robbed her of remembering what her real one ever looked like.

        -she knows Sayla still has business to resolve. Creakily, her neck cranes upwards, to meet Sayla's face with her own reddened, tear-stained grimace. It takes a lot, to finally pull up. Seolla can at least do that much, knees as shaky as they are, gripping as tight to Sayla's arm as she is. She won't let Sayla just ''carry'' her everywhere, but...her support is still required at this point.

        A simple rag is pulled up and tied as a makeshift face mask. At least if she looks distraught, it's less unbearably pathetic. At lease she can look like she's supposed to be there.

        Sousuke's presence, confirming he's safe and sound after that pursuit, is at least a strong bolstering to Seolla's ability to stand upright. They're all in horrible shape, but they're all intact.

        ...It's only the sheer sapped willpower that prevents Seolla from even touching her gun at the sight of Dr. Murasame. The temptation is strong. The exhaustion is far stronger.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Kikka Kobayashi has posed.
<poem>
"Affirmative, Heart-2," Kikka answers Sayla, trying not to look too hard at that horribly mangled corpse. "Uruz-7's on the scene, but it seems the Princess's beat him to it."

"Britannian Forces, Your Highness... I'm sure even you know that the justice system belongs to the people. And tragically, in the case of Doctor Murasame, his crimes have touched countless of lives. I hope you're willing to hear those voices when you put the man to trial."

"We might have to leave him with them after all." she agrees with Kai as an aside. "It's not like I have much of a negotiating stance. Far as the Federation knows, I'm not much more than some college student way in over her head anyway." Sayla has a much better position here, but even her... it's hard to imagine Cornelia li Britannia impressed.

"I'd still like to follow through with the Cowboy however we can, though... because I have to admit, he kind of saved our butts." She admits, as Lucine helps him out.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Cornelia li Britannia has posed.
<poem>
drip

drip

drip

                BOOM

...

drip

Droplets of congealing red fall from the tip of Cornelia li Britannia's middle finger in a slow, steady rhythm, perturbed only by the force of the sudden, controlled explosion that rolls its softer tremors through the ground beneath her feet.

By the time Sousuke's weapon is trained on Cornelia, Cornelia's is trained on Sousuke.

Her expression is unreadable, save for the cold fury behind that one open eye.

&lt;"Princess! Have you cornered Murasame?"&gt;

Darlton's voice crackles in her ear as she keeps that weapon on Sousuke, eye narrowing. She pays no heed to the howls and pleas of the squirming man beneath him, as if his suffering was simply matter-of-course at this point.

"... Yes. Ready retrieval."

Sousuke seeks answers from the others who have come here seeking justice. Cornelia remains unmoving, her gloved fingers close to the trigger of her ornate weapon.

"There is only one order that matters."

Her voice is a hoarse rasp. It doesn't change the steel behind it.

Sayla is right, after all. Behind that cold poker face --

Cornelia li Britannia is furious.

The barrel of her gun does not stray from Sousuke in the middle of that standoff, even as Sayla arrives with Seolla. Blood-smeared lips press into a thinner line.

"Dr. Mass," is her simple, curt greeting. 'Good terms' is definitely not an appropriate term for the terseness behind that tone.

drip

drip

drip

Cornelia's eye is still affixed on Sousuke as Sayla speaks. She's outnumbered here. If things go wrong, Darlton and the Glaston Knights will not come here in time to help her.

The look in her eye says she's prepared to breathe her last breath today if it means not being denied.

But she listens. She listens to Sayla's words, between the steady drip of red. Her teeth grit against each other as she continues. A request.

"The gall to phrase it like that," she spits out. "You have no shame, Mass. You tread on Britannian justice brazenly, and presume you can frame this as if you are grateful -- as if I do not have eyes with which to see your contempt and ears to hear your platitudes! And you would still presume to DENY me--?!"

''His most recent crimes were against people in my care.''

"Then you should be glad--" to see Britannian justice be done on him, she begins to say, and then cuts herself off. Her eyes are wide. Her expression is livid. For a moment, it seems like that gun might just train upon Sayla.

But it's when that indigo eye finally turns on the woman that Cornelia pauses.

And she blinks, exactly once, at the sight of that hate.

It's...

... familiar...

"..."

... too familiar.

&lt;"Princess? Retrieval is ready. You simply need to give the word."&gt;

For a long time, Cornelia li Britannia is silent. And then, despite the risk of it...

... that eye closes.

"... You will not simply -take- him."

The words come slowly. In a way that make it clear they will not be debated. But...

"... You will take him. And you will pry every piece of information he has on him, from him. I do not care how. I will only see it done. Associates. Names. Locations. Everything and everyone in the Federation that ties to him, you will retrieve, and everything besides. You will have two weeks. And then you will bring that information to me.

"And then you may do whatever you please to this insipid garbage."

That indigo eye opens. And once more, it trains on Sayla. On that familiar anger.

"That is my condition. Accept it, or else he is my quarry, and my prize, and I will take what I wish from him regardless. And if you believe you can accept this deal only to renege on it and evade my wrath..."

She takes a step forward. Another.

"Ask this cur how well that belief worked for him."

And the third falls squarely on one of those shattered knees, if only to emphasize her point.

And sate her frustrations.

drip

drip

"Are we agreed?"

drip


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Sousuke Sagara has posed.
<poem>
"Zero," Sousuke reports to Roux. "But she should have at least two others somewhere." Her Knights...he'll have to be cautious. Either of them would be his equal. His eyes flick down to Murasame's terror, then back up. This is the man who hurt Rikka. Who hurt Akane. Who hurt Leina.

Nothing. Like expecting a roaring fireplace and just seeing a lump of dead coal, he feels an only an emptiness when he looks at the writhing man. The old man's fear, his pain...motivate Sousuke no more than his crimes do. Does Murasame see it, there?

The merciless eyes he's given so many? Surely he knows the eyes of someone whose despair his risen to drowning heights. And the things they can make themselves do.

But that face changes. Kai gives him his advice from afar. It's sound advice. Reasonable. Thoughtful.

        'Some of you have lives to live.'

Oh yes. That's SO important, isn't it? An anger explodes in Sousuke's chest that he is not at all expecting and he can't hide it at all as his entire body QUAKES with it, a shiver passing through him as his breathing suddenly accelerates. He swallows, hard, trying to control himself, but it feels like passing a softball down his throat; impossible, and it only makes it worse. Yes. Of course. It's so, so important that they all return to that quiet home, isn't it. That home they all have.  Maybe Cornelia can see it, the way his jaw sets, the way he has to force his breathing down, the way his eyes narrow but his pupils expand.

But he doesn't fire. He receives an actual order and his weapon lowers - just half way. A mid point between actually disarming himself and simply opening negotiations, while he allows Sayla to speak.

The words become barely buzzing. This isn't his domain. this doesn't affect anything that's part of his life, anymore.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Roux Louka has posed.
<poem>


Roux pants as she runs. Her ribs hurt. Probably one or the other is fractured, and it's definitely going to be a mass of bruises. In many situations Roux would think of the money here, but she can't.

She can only think of eyes in a lab in Asia, ones that had seen only torment. Doctors, scientists, who became something else entirely. Stories she had heard, echoes of other things seen second and third hand. Breathing more heavily, she sees --

Wow, they all look pretty messed up, Roux thinks.

Others are speaking. Roux's eyes turn towards the Princess of Britannia, wounded and bloodied -- Sayla pleads her case. Cornelia makes her reply. It's thunderous, but -- she changes her mind. In this period, Roux -- seeing nothing around and hearing Sousuke's warning of Cornelia's Knights skulking around somewhere -- turns off her gun and puts it, deliberately, in the hip holster.

Her arm hurts.

Something...

I should just shoot him, Roux thinks.

She grimaces at the sound of Cornelia stepping on the man. And yet.

Roux steps forwards - laterally. "Ma'am," she says to Cornelia, or at least in a sort of Cornelia-wards direction, and then she comes towards the front arc of Dr. Murasame. He looks old, Roux thinks, and pathetic.

And yet.

Roux crouches down low, resting her hands on her thighs and leaning forwards slightly. "Dr. Murasame," Roux says. "You know, I've heard of you, Doctor. You really pioneered a new field. No, no, you're making a mistake here," Roux continues. "You should just lay quietly and breathe steadily."

Roux then says, with a sort of liquid-nitrogen tone of """concern,""" "Like you were getting ready for anesthetic, right?"

The funny thing, Roux thinks, is that this feels like nothing at all, neither good nor bad. What the hell does THAT mean. Maybe I'm messed up, or princesses give you brain distortion.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

Murasame looks at Seolla, and the look on his face there's...  vague recognition there.  Is he aware of the school?  It's hard for him to place a face right now, he's had memory problems for so long.  He needs his pills.

But he's certainly terrified, seeming to realize that she's a creation that has turned on her creators.

And then he listens to Sayla, as he squirms away from her, "Don't-!  ...Don't...  let her take me."

What a day, when the Britannian Princess and sense of justice is considered his salvation.

And to his horror, it isn't.  He looks at Cornelia with alarm, to the dripping blood, even as more blood pools beneath his mauled legs.  She sees her stepping forward.  And then, CRUNCH.

He screams.  He can't help it, writhing in agony from the point driven home quite squarely through pain.  As they work out terms with him uninvolved, an observer.  He can only make out half of it, through the pain, but either way, his life is about to become hell.

What choice does he have but...  to appeal?

Through the haze of pain, he rasps out again, "...  Yo...  Your...  fuh-father... would expect..."

He doesn't finish that statement, there are any number of words that could finish with.  Perhaps he was going to say 'better'.

Perhaps.

But he almost certainly thought better of it.  Just - not in time perhaps.

His keen psychological sense of insight dulled by incredible pain and the lack of pills he needs to maintain that mental acuity.

When Roux comes up to him, speaking in hushed words, he clenches his teeth shut, staring at her, sucking in a breath at the indignity, and - obeying.  Compliance is survival in times like these.

But her tone, he looks up at her, balefully.  He understands the irony she conveys, and certainly does not appreciate it, eventually even that look fades away from the agony of the moment, as he blubbers in place on the floor.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.
<poem>
        Sayla doesn't falter in the face of Cornelia's aggression. "You're correct." She says, bluntly. She knows full well the fragility of her negotiating stance. She stands firm, even as she supports Seolla.

        Shame would only get in the way.

        She listens to Cornelia's terms, her eyes never breaking from the Princess' face. The terms are simple.

        They were also already what she had planned to do, short of handing the information over. A little twist to the plan is fine.

        "Agreed."

        It looks like Murasame gets his wish, not to be handed to Cornelia. But the way Sayla turns to him, there's something there. A cold fury. She sets Seolla down, gently. She stands over Murasame's begging form, as Roux speaks quietly.

        "He wouldn't want me doing something like this, I'm sure." There's no mirth in her voice. Just barely restrained cold anger. She places one foot on Murasame's shoulder. "But he's been dead for nearly thirty years. I'm well and truly past shaping my life on what he what he would have wanted. My daughter, on the other hand, is still living with what you did for her."

        There is a sudden sharp application of force, as Sayla puts her weight to dislocating Murasame's shoulder, an unnecessary step- but it makes her feel better. "Keep my family out of your mouth, you son of a bitch."

        She steps back to pick up Seolla. "Pick him up." She orders to Sousuke and Roux. "I'll see you in two weeks time, Your Highness."

        She reaches for her comm with her free hand. "...Send a message to Anzus," she relays to Kikka. "I have a present for her informant."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Cornelia li Britannia has posed.
<poem>
Cornelia may not be a Newtype - far from it - but she has a far, far better sense of her surroundings than most. Call it the sense of someone who has lived most of their life on the battlefield; a survivor's instinct.

So when Sousuke suddenly quakes in a way that so barely manifests in a shiver, Cornelia's lone eye is suddenly on him once again. Does she see it? The quickening of his breath, the clenching of his jaw, the way his pupils dilate even as his eyes become dangerous slits?

The way her finger inches just fractionally closer towards its trigger says it all.

"... Tell your hound to heel," she begins to say -- but ultimately Sousuke's weapon lowers. Hers, however, does not. She waits, expression impassive and expectant through Murasame's screaming, for Sayla's answer. And when it comes --

-- when Murasame desperately invokes the name of 'father' to try to avoid a fate in the hands of the people he has so deeply wronged--

"Swallow your words or you will swallow your tongue next, worm."

--Sayla isn't the only one who hears the desperate man impugning her family.

"My father's name has no place on it."

It's only after that, that Cornelia's weapon lowers. It's only a slightly awkward motion, how she snaps the weapon back to sheathe it against her left hip -- normally, she draws with her right. But given how it hangs as if dislocated, it likely simply wasn't an option.

&lt;"Princess?"&gt;

"Recall the knights, Darlton. Our mission is done here."

&lt;"... Very well."&gt;

There is the sound of shuffling in the distance behind Sousuke, Sayla, Roux and the others, confirming Sousuke's information as Edgar and Bart begin a retreat from where they had remained posted on the outskirts of Murasame's escape route. Cornelia takes a single step backwards. She glances down at Roux beside Murasame -- to Murasame, so pathetic, so desperate. To Sousuke, gaze lingering for a single second at the man she can so clearly see honed like a weapon desperate to be out of its sheathe. And then...

She stares at Sayla, for three seconds more, before she turns coolly.

"Two weeks," is all she says before she begins to walk, refusing to give in to the desire to limp as she strides.

She does not look... satisfied. But not resigned, either. She simply accepts this as fact.

"Prepare for our departure, Darlton. ... I will... need medical attention when I arrive."

&lt;"What happened, your highness? Why are we not taking Murasame?"&gt;

She thinks of the look in Sayla's eyes.

She thinks of the look in Lelouch's eyes, in those moments before he was exiled.

She thinks of Euphemia, and what she would do if someone hurt her.

"... I have my eyes on a longer game, Darlton. I have decided to take a page out of my brother's playbook, for once. I'm certain he would be proud."

Perhaps the idea that Murasame clearly sees an even worse fate in their hands than hers is enough.

</poem>

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Phase 1]]
[[Category:Phase 1, Turn 3]]