[H3]BIG IMPORTANT PLOT POST THING DO NOT IGNORE[/H3] [b]Extra Rotten[/b] Disembodied arms. Shattered pieces of what had once been a eerie-looking mask. A shrivelled, balled up mess that was far too uncomfortably human for him to look at for long periods of time. He had known it was going to be a real queer bajoomah, but just because the scoop was swimming inside his mind meat didn't mean it was that easy to grease some information from something that looked like the corpse of some poor, starving sap. It seemed like a cinch at first, but boy, was he looking like a boob now. He didn't want to grab air just yet, but after several hours without being able to get anything to spill, he really wanted to hang up his hat. It was way more than just some dame's missing steady anymore. This dingus sitting in front of him was nothing less than the real McCoy, a sign of "foreign talent" having their mitts on the city's pulse. And who would've thunk, when he was all worried about being sent upriver to the big house, he should have been worrying about being a floater [i]in[/i] the river. Maybe the broad got an edge from jumping head-first into all this mess, but he wasn't the type of guy to take any wooden nickels. Paying off the bills was already hard enough with metal coins. Speaking of that freeloader who was supposedly his partner, he hadn't seen her around this morning. No sign of the ragamuffin pink bed-hair. It wasn't like the bird to get up early for any worms, but there were some files missing, and the coffee machine hadn't been cleaned. Man, even if she was a smart cookie sometimes, she really liked to go off like a fairy. Didn't even bother dropping a dime to tell him where she went. It would've been real swell if she was here right now, because she'd probably catch something about this caper that he hadn't. "Nuts and Bolts" here wasn't somebody he could beat his gums to. Hey, what type of shamus talked to a delivery drone? Not him, for sure. He sighed, rising to his feet and walking past the machine sleeping next to the table leg. The bearcat girl had left the thing in here yesterday, but he hadn't gotten to chance to rat anything outta those circuits. It probably wasn't going to be an easy rube either. The detective grabbed his beloved hat, fitting it snugly over his head. He'd have to nab some of his contacts' brains. Maybe scoot by those kids, wherever they were. The agency door slammed shut behind him. [hr] [@Savo][@JBRam2002][@GarlandDaHero] [b]NPC: Uchima Senior High Hallways -> Drama Clubroom, Saturday Morning[/b] The Drama Club's vice president nodded politely, even as he took Alex's proffered hand, responding with a light, but still noticeable, shake. "I do not believe we have," he said honestly, warm brown eyes looking from one newcomer to the other. "It is also a pleasure to meet both of you." [right][i]In the corner of the room, fabric shifted.[/i][/right] He had a subdued aura to him, as if he didn't really belong in his current position. He was just the vice president, after all, a stand-in for times when Yamamoto was unavailable. Meeting prospective new club members - well, one member possibly - wasn't something he was used to doing. Holding the fort wasn't particularly difficult, but there was always a strange feeling being the one "in charge". [right][i]It was very green.[/i][/right] "My name is Okazaki Jihei," he continued, rising to his feet and giving them a short bow. "I assume you two are interested in this production?" [right][i]The monster - green and beady-eyed - loomed behind the vice president.[/i][/right] "New comrades are always welcome!" boomed the frog costume, which had managed to sneak up behind Okazaki without any fanfare. In a testament to his familiarity with such things, the vice president's subdued, calm aura didn't shift a single iota. "This is Oogami Youta," the brunette added. "One of our actors alongside Ikari-san, and currently should be in charge of stage lighting." The frog costume gestured in a "what-can-you-do?" manner, letting out an audible sigh. "I thought it would've been most excellent for our newest comrades to know the excitement of this club!" the aforementioned Oogami explained flamboyantly. "That I can do for acquaintances of our Ikari-chan!" "We usually are not this excit-" [hr] An overpowering scent. Disgusting sweet, like the juices of ripening fruit splattered against the dirt. A familiar scent. A sterile yet pleasantly comforting odour, stagnant reminders of a long-gone past. The scent of [i]them[/i]. The scent of perspiration, of pointless effort. Of their sweat, sticky and salty. The scent of something delicious. Something filling, a flavour that would last for eternity. It breathed. The scent of opportunity. Here, in the darkest parts of the clock tower. Here, surrounded by the charring of a long-ago fire. A disaster of sixteen years past. A tragedy borne from a beautiful maelstrom of light and fire. But all that was left was black. Eerie black markings. Black, shadowy scars that would not heal. Scratched into the foundations of the school. Eternally a reminder. A dead end where grudges festered. Where the pain never left. [i]Drip.[/i] In the darkness, it moved. [i]Drip.[/i] Something moved. Something important. [i]Drip.[/i] Searing hot. The air couldn't be breathed. Choking wisps. [right][i]i̧᷅᷅͝͝͝͝t᷅̄᷅͝͝͝͝ l᷅̈́᷅͝͝͝͝i᷅ͣ᷅͝͝͝͝k͊᷅ͯ᷅͝͝͝͝͝e᷅᷅᷅͝͝͝͝d̠᷅᷅͝͝͝͝ t᷅͋᷅͝͝͝͝h̖᷅᷅͝͝͝͝a᷅ͨ᷅͝͝͝͝t̛᷅᷅͝͝͝͝[/i][/right] too cold warmth a wave darkness rose hissing a fork unfurling, sickly [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJMbLyzqImo]It would come.[/url] Brick and mortar shattered. Glittering, millions upon millions upon millions upon millions. Glowing gems. It could sense it. The potential. The potential so close and close and close. Prey. [right][i]a̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̘̅᷆̓᷆ͩ͞ s̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̹̥̻᷆̓͒᷆e̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̓᷆̑᷀̆᷆͗c̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̈᷆ͣ᷾͏̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶᷆̎o̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶͇᷆̋̎͋᷆͠n̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̫̻᷆̎᷆̃͜d̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶͕̙᷆̌͐᷆̈ c̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̜̑᷆͐́᷆̾h̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̎᷆͂ͤ᷆ͣ͡a̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̷̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̬᷆̐͌ͦ᷆̆n̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̻̈᷆̑᷆͗͘ç̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̝᷆͋͑᷆e̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̘͕᷆̆᷆̒ͅ[/i][/right] Golden light screamed through the black. The world stopped. Every inch of the school. Frozen. Half-opened books. Sports equipment left unattended. Chalkboards half-written. A facsimile. A mirage of a school. No students. No teachers. Sickly crimson dripped down the walls. A long-dead image. Its realm. Filled with nothing. Except the scent of potential. The scent of prey. Prey dragged inside. The school itself shook with screams. [hr] "-ing?" Okazaki's voice trailed off. The empty room. The red splattered against the opposing wall. Taunting him.