[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180803/f7977b820eb93dd680edce7c1d61d3b0.png[/img]
[h3]Outdoor Amphitheatre[/h3]

~ [i]Taking Control[/i] ~

[@Literally Everyone], but mainly [@TheSeriousJoke], [@xxlanatjexx], [@addamas] and [@KenjuGuy][/center]

He had done his best to prevent a situation from arising. Somewhere in his mind, Shirou had thought that, maybe, if he attempted to group their group together immediately, the chance of infighting, and injury, would be greatly reduced. He had hoped that vainly, with a certain misplaced sense of arrogance in the face of the unknown. It was a flawed idea, but it was his best at the time, on the spot, especially considering the circumstances. There was no way to disprove the notions the bear put forward, but maybe, just maybe, they didn't have to listen.

Of course he would be wrong about that. The arrogance came gift wrapped alongside ignorance, a belief that things would go alright. It was his failing here - his mistake, his fault, his flaw - and he would pay for it. If maybe he had said different words? Attempted another, more drastic approach? There were so many ideas that he could have had at the time, and a multitude more ways to prevent the future. [i]The future.[/i] It was always scary, but he would always meet the future head on to prevent the worst from passing.

From his vantage point, between the other Ultimates, watching the stage, he caught the glimpse of a girl running, just in his periphery. That bright orange hairstyle could only be attributed to one person, even despite his only brief scan through the Handbook. That was Chikako, running, full speed, towards the stage. And the arrogance went along with her, in the opposite direction, torn away like wallpaper. It crashed all around them in a meteor shower of fire and death and chaos. Everything [i]burnt[/i] around them, the world crumbling and collapsing.

Shirou didn't just move. Whatever it was, it didn't look like a move. With everyone's attentions directed to the stage, as Chikako lay helpless, the gun bearing over her, paralysed by the situation, he took the initiative, driven purely on the kinds of instincts that gave him his title, and ran to the stage. It wasn't an active decision; the cause and effect clicked into his mind effortlessly, and his limbs moved on their own, carrying him forward as quickly as humanly possible. People always said that adrenaline and panic supercharged the way a human acted - there was no greater wielder of such a trait than him.

There was certainly time between the move and the outcome, but to Shirou, time blinked forward. The bullet tore through his leg, forcing him to the ground immediately. Even despite the adrenaline surge, the pain clawed its way along his synapses nigh instantly, leaving the gaping hole buzzing with searing heat and excruciating pain. He rolled onto his side, and then his back, hands pressed into the wound to stem the bleeding as best as possible. In the pain, the world seemed to [i]fade[/i], distanced and monochromatic, like he was viewing an old black and white movie.

His ears rang, both from the nerves and the close range gunshot, and his eyes stung and swam, their vision blurred. Faintly he could recognise the things that were going on - another shot rang out, though against who he didn't know, and people ran around, some attempting to help, whilst others gave speeches or argued. The only thing he could tell for certain, though, was that she wasn't dead. Chikako hadn't died. And that made everything, all the pain, and anguish, and trauma, worth it. Because that was what it meant to be

[center][b]"A hero?"[/b]

[colour=Red][i]"Yeah. I want to be a hero."[/i][/colour][/center]

Blinking away the pain as best he could, Shirou sat up from the floor, shrugging off his jacket and placing it a small distance away from the pool of blood that had spread underneath him. Pulling the string from the hood, he then proceeded to wrap the jack around his leg, before fastening it with the string, forming a makeshift tourniquet. He was far from a trained medical professional, but he knew basic first aid. Any hero did.

And then, even despite Flare's comment about the two of them not moving around much, he stood up. It took great difficulty, and great pain, but still he did it, pushing himself up from the floor to stand upright in front of the group. Even as the pain shot through his body, causing the sound in his ears to warp and dull, he could tell that people were arguing. Fighting amongst themselves. Instinctively, he ground his teeth together - both to stave off his frustration, and his pain.

[colour=Red]"Why don't you all stop fighting?"[/colour] he said aloud - as loud as he could - despite the clear strain to his voice, [colour=Red]"What the hell is fighting going to solve? We've got an injured, unconscious girl here and you think the best course of action is to [i]start arguing amongst yourselves?[/i]"[/colour] no doubt he sounded like a nagging parent, but the tone of his voice gave it a sense of weariness, as he turned his head to the people nearby the stage, [colour=Red]"We can't rely of makeshift bandages... Flare and... Ginshi? I want you two with me."[/colour] his eyes scanned the group, [colour=Red]"Yukimori Maiya - Improvisational Engineer - you too. And..."[/colour] the gaze flitted from Maiya to Hiroki, [colour=Red]"You want to help? You're smart, I want you as well."[/colour] with his role-call finished, he took a limping and painful step off the stage.

[colour=Red]"There are... supply cabins on the map. It's the other-side of the camp, but we're not going to get medical supplies here. Ginshi can carry Chikako - when we get there, Maiya, Flare, Hiroki... get her patched up."[/colour] and then, provided there was no resistance and no one stopped him, he would begin making his way there - hopefully, with the band in tow.

[center]~[/center]

[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180307/3e475eaffeda94d19a772cd43782dfa1.png[/img]
[h3]Outdoor Amphitheatre[/h3]

~ [i]Set in Motion[/i] ~[/center]

Lilly stood watching, entirely uncertain, though, of [i]what[/i] she was watching. The monochromatic bear emerged, talking about killing games, murder - all sorts of nonsense. People started arguing, a girl ran onto the stage, and then a boy followed suit, before they eat met a bullet. And then more people started arguing, and more people started making speeches. It was all terribly confusing. People doing this, people doing this, round and round, almost enough to make the poor girls head spin.

But Lilly wasn't sure what was really happening not because she couldn't pay attention, but because her attention was diverted elsewhere. Her mind was fixated on something clearly very real, and very serious, to a degree that some in the group might have been concerned about. Her eyes were wet with tears, her face was red, and she was somehow physically curled into herself, despite being stood up-straight. Both her hands were placed to her chest, and her head was low down, creating the impression that she was trying to protect herself from someone, or something

People might have looked upon the strange scene as though she was simply shaken to the core about the revelation Monokuma had given. But those astute enough would have noticed that she had been like she was, even before the speeches, and shootings, and all the other nonsense, had even begun. No, she was facing a far more terrible, and immediate threat. More dangerous than murder, and more petrifying than a killing game.

Her stuffed rabbit, Rosetta, had been stolen.

Lilly's body seemed to physically shake in sadness and frustration. From right under her nose - from right in her hand - someone had managed to take her bunny. She hadn't dropped it. She hadn't left it behind. Her head shook frantically around the amphitheatre in search of the thing, but her gaze fell on nothing. How could she let this happen? He was held so close to her, and so firmly. There should have been no way, and yet...

Still it had happened. Something had to be done about it. Something. [i]Anything![/i] In her annoyance, she took her student handbook, and wielding a face sticky with tears and a terrifying pout, she flicked through the pages of the thing - looking at the map, the rules, the students, the -- her finger stooped tapping and swiping, her search seemingly finished. Her eyes stared into the face of a stranger, a boy she had never seen before, and her pout softened, slightly. A minor amount of tension had been released.

Because now she knew his face. As quickly as she took in the picture, she lifted her head, looking around to find the boy from her vantage point, but seeing nothing. From where she was, at the back of the group, she could barely see the stage. Her vision skimmed straight over her target. So she looked back down, to find everything she could see. His height, weight, talent - everything. And then she skipped to the map, to find his room.

Satisfied, Lilly Hart turned away from the group, and walked away. She was heading in the same direction as Snow - towards the residents cabins - but she didn't register her. For she had something to do; a plan to enact, and a score to settle. If playing dirty was the only way that Aurel boy knew how to play, then by the nine circles of hell, she would outplay him.

Such was her vow.