[right][hr][color=gray][b]Toukotan Park, The Asterisk[/b]
Spring, SY 3233/UC 233/AY 117[/color][hr][/right]
They called it a marvel of human engineering. A singularity of how far humanity’s technology had reached. A state birthed from the collaboration of geniuses all over the universe, a metropolis that put the brightest of jewels to shame. With towering skyscrapers and the luxuries of a thousand galaxies presented on every corner of the street, there was no doubt that if it wasn’t an asteroid meant for education and politics, it’d certainly be the greatest shopping and entertainment district in the Neutral Rim. An epicurean world, drenched in riches.

But for Merringo, all that wealth just pissed her off. The air was artificial shit, the lights were too bright, every block on the way to Toukotan High was rife with electronic dickbags trying to sell her crap she didn’t want, the whole color scheme of the place was dreadfully metallic, and most of all, she could hardly hear her own mind amid the constant buzz of white noise that spilled out from every which direction. Not a bird in the air, nor a beast on the ground. Each tree was manicured to uncanny perfection, while artificial turf was a poor substitution for the real deal, no matter how glossy and green it was. Really, it had to be asked...

[i][color=a187be]How the hell were you even expected to stay sane here?[/color][/i]

…

Or maybe Merringo’s just being particularly nitpicky and pissy that particular day, considering how some JACKASS decided to start a magical fight with another FUCKBOI and ended up scratching her goddamn BIKE with their bullshit MAIDS. With a twist of the handlebars, she grounded her vehicle before another blast of wind could send it into the side of some restaurant, hissing as the landing gear failed to burst out in time. Metal screeched against the pavement, sparks flying up and burning small holes in the ridiculous black stockings that served as the fetish uniform they made all girls wear, but Merringo was past caring about that.
Fuckers scratched her bike. Fuckers scratched her bike! And they’re still fucking going at it like a bunch of Neanderthals! For a moment, she considered drawing her blade and knocking them out of the park, but the surge of righteous wrath was reined in with a clenched fist.

So instead, Merringo Saljinon, like some 21st century social media addict, took out her phone and recorded the brawl between the redheaded fuckboi and the snobbish jackass, marking the GPS location whilst streaming it to the authorities and verbally narrating off-camera scenes to add to the drama, such as…

[b][color=a187be]“Oh no! That tree just fell down where one of the students were taken cover!”[/color][/b]

Or…

[b][color=a187be]“Wow, isn’t this…damn, hope no one was inside the room of that building.”[/color][/b]

And maybe some...

[b][color=a187be]“Oh god, those two have sticks sticking out of their eyes!”[/color][/b]

A bit extra?

Yeah.

But hell, the less competition she had, the better, and if these saccharine theatrics could cement the expulsion of these bike-scratching punks, then the auburn haired girl was alllllll for it.