[@NarayanK][@HereComesTheSnow][@banjoanjo][@GreenGoat][@ADamnFiddle][@Avant][@Etranger][@Plank Sinatra][@Krayzikk]

[b]Night, School District 15[/b]

There was a tiny hiss of static through the speaker of Bang's flip-phone, accompanied by what sounded like something being shuffled around on the other end of the line. Another second of pause was what followed (with the operator giving an apologetic "[color=3f00ff]please wait[/color]" before the brief interlude), but there was no extended wait for the young man, as the slight voice returned as soon as it had disappeared, this time with firm confidence.

"[color=3f00ff]Antiskill is enroute,[/color]" she said. "[color=3f00ff]Don't tamper with the scene. If a suspect's around, don't engage. Keep clear and be careful. Stay safe.[/color]"

An eruption of sound.

This time, on Bang's end of the call.

The air crackled and thundered with heat and noise and [i]force[/i] as it exploded.

---

[b]Not that too long ago, Night, School District 15, Nearby Rooftop[/b]

It was unprofessional. In every sense of the word, the conduct and approach of what had been undertaken was undeniably and utterly unprofessional. For somebody who supposedly prided themselves on subtlety, there was absolutely none to be found in their handling of the unfortunate situation that had been left to him to clean up. What an undignified scene it was; from his vantage point on the chilly rooftop of a two storey building opposite, illuminated only by the dull glow of the lampposts on the street below and the lights of nearby windows, he could see very clearly how much of a mess the disposal had become.

The proper methods had not been observed. And knowing that, there was a failure to rectify that mistake.

Unacceptable.

A body openly left on the street to rot. It would draw undue attention. Too much attention. Attention that would get in the way of everything they were trying to do. Attention that, from the growing size of the crowd in front of that aging building and the growing size of the dread in his stomach, was already beginning to intensify. There was no way to avoid it. Nothing he could do by himself could stop it.

"I think we have to 'cut our losses'," noted a voice in his ear. Dhṛtarāṣṭra was speaking. His comrade was beside him, watching the street and people and the scene of the body. "That [i]is[/i] the English expression, yes, no?"

"What do you mean?" he asked. He did not know English expressions. He did not know English at all.

The other male pointed towards the figure of a young man with a flip-phone in hand. "That call is prolly for Antiskill," explained Dhṛtarāṣṭra, thumb stretched upwards in the facsimile of a finger gun. "They will get leads 'like cat on mice', easy. There is no way we can sneakily put a stop to that."

"And?"

"We need to give up the secrecy. We simply cannot have success without blowing it out into the open. So, we have to 'cut our losses', right?"

There were loud outbursts from the small assembled group on the street below. They were either arguing or expressing shock over the body's discovery, depending on whichever one of them was speaking. It did not particularly matter to him. However, it was giving him more time to hear out the plan Dhṛtarāṣṭra was likely to bring out.

"What will you do?"

The response was marked by a jocund smile. "Blow [i]myself[/i] out into the open," said the boy casually, jovially, outstretched pointer finger shifting, the tip seemingly aimed in a direct line towards the phone. "I should make a distraction, you see? While they focus on me, you can go invisible and jump down, run for the body to nab it. This is called 'taking one for the team'."

"That is risky."

"No need to worry, I have this 'in the bag'. Antiskill chasing after me is the best we can get from this bad situation, so you go straight for the cleanup while I play distraction."

A second of thought. There were no better options.

It did not mean he liked the plan.

He nodded. His body shimmered away from view, the twisting and turning of light disappearing him from sight.

"Good luck."

"No need for thanks."

He went for the emergency stairs as quickly as possible. Behind him, Dhṛtarāṣṭra stood tall, stood visible, on the edge of that rooftop.

"Catalyse," whispered his comrade.

His feet rapidly clanged against the steel steps, and halfway down he jumped down.

There was no elegance to his movements.

There was no need, for there was an immense explosion of air localised around the caller.

A distraction, to be precise.