[@HereComesTheSnow][@GreenGoat]
[h3]MgRonald's, District 7[/h3]
"Ah."

The one they called 'Chief' appeared to be deep in thought.

The sirens were mere buildings away.

"This is one of them breakdown in negoti-ne-negotiat-nego-[sub][i]fuck Isami hit it![/i][/sub]"

Multiple things proceeded to happen all at once.

The windows of the MgRonald's shattered into a million shards of glass (much to the loud consternation of the hat-wearing girl at the counter, who had only just managed to turn on the aircon) as a metallic white three-wheeled scooter (and its sidecar) roughly backed straight into the restaurant, called by the power of Isami's smartphone app. The mulleted individual's hair underwent stylistic changes, morphing into a pompadour (and thus becoming a pompadour'd individual) that thrust forth like a lance in the hope of plugging shut the bazooka. The chief grabbed the MgChickens from the other leather jacket-clad man, and ran straight for the sidecar without any care for the glass digging into him with each step.

"Meet at T.A.F.!" he shouted at the pompadour'd fellow, all while Isami started up the scooter. "Your MgChicken isn't goin' to be patient!"

"Whatever, chief." The man with the powerful hair was already focused on holding back the do-gooders. "You ain't hitting them until you get past me!"