[h3]MgRonalds, District 7[/h3]
[@Crimmy][@GreenGoat]

The air seemed to grow thicker as the two wiseguys stated their case. Perhaps they, in their leather jackets, were just feeling the summer heat— in spite of MgRonald's having an industry standard AC Unit that was functioning perfectly moments ago. 

There are certain things in this world that could be deemed careless, like not ensuring a rogue element entering your controlled situation was properly. Certain others could ascend to the moniker of reckless, such as directly engaging that rogue element when it is suspect of being volatile. A harrowing step up for sure, but it too paled in comparison to the final tier: insanity. This was reserved for not simply engaging the rogue, volatile element, but doing so through the implication of force.

[color=a187be][i]Make that "The best damn city in America"n, broad.[/i][/color]

So saying, Shinjiro Karasawa and the confessed bazooka-wielding goons were two parties of a kind: Both out of their damn skulls.

The classic MgRonald's was set up to have the bathrooms nearest to an entrance point, serving as convenience for those unfortunate drivers who needed a quick break on the road or before their meal. This meant that when the trio sprung into action, so too did their purple-haired obstacle, immediately body-blocking the doorway.

An observant and keen-eyed witness would note that in addition to the strange pulses of heat that were beginning to radiate out from that corner of the room, the glass of the doorway was beginning to fog behind him.

He would normally need to apologize to the girl behind the counter once this was all said and done, but picking a fight with some East High schlubs was about a world removed from doing the same with armed criminals.

Especially those that were terrorizing other customers.

Especially those that were pulling a fast one on him like a ten-year-old.

[i]Lying fucking terrorists![/i] This was [i]civic duty![/i]

[color=a187be]"You come into a MgRonald's with a fuckin' bazooka and you expect me ta just let you by!? Quit bustin' my balls! Those sirens are on [i]your[/i] asses, I wasn't born [i]yesterday[/i]!"[/color]

And they were just begging to have their faces pounded into the pavement. What kind of New Yorker could resist?