“Too small a space?” With a bud for a head, it was hard to understand any of the facial expressions that the Bouncer may have been expressing, but the massive spirit
sounded bemused at least, none of his eighty remaining arms doing anything threatening.
“If you haven’t noticed, Miss, we’re outdoors. Penrose being the ghost town that it is, I hardly think that what we’re doing should be all that troubling.” Upon seeing the Magical Girl of Fiery Justice charge up her next magical attack, however, the spirit shrugged its eighty shoulders in resignation.
“But I suppose I’ve gotta earn my pay after all.”Twenty arms met Dawn’s beam, the limbs twisting and converging into each other until the eldritch plasma turned itself into a drill honed to a sharper point than the magical girl’s blazing lance. The two forces clashed, residual heat and scattered fire bursting out where the two points collided, and yet, her magic was unable to overcome the dense, phantasmal limb.
…
Or well, that may have happened, if the Bouncer didn’t get jumped by the other two girls in a sequence of events so fast that he couldn’t even get another quip in before he was subsequently sliced into four quarters. Four ghostly quarters that, rather than falling onto the ground with a weightless thump, just stayed floating there instead as the three Ascendancy girls flew past. The bud-headed phantom considered the situation for a moment, as he consumed another ten arms to put his body back together, before shrugging.
“Yeah, I’m not getting paid that much.”And, as simple as that, he flew off, opposite of the concert. That which has died cannot die again, but that didn’t mean he had to fight to the death all the time.
Lupa’s screaming? That was a metal aesthetic.
A buncha randoms pushing through the crowd while blasting their own music? Very much less so.
While many magical girls had gotten through the mobs without any response, regardless of what outlandishly violent methods they employed, as Anaya and Celia pushed through, shields up and musician dolls blaring, many of the ghosts around them whipped their heads around, expressions of disdain and irritation appearing. Who the hell did they think they were? Endsinger had no rules, yes, so one was totally allowed to massacre their way through unresisting audience attendees with no real repercussions, and heck, if you could make your way atop the stage without getting booted by the Bouncer, that was fine too! But playing music that didn’t match her own? Such vulgarity! Such unpleasantness!
All of Celia’s attempts to make the duo avoid detection had been cancelled out by Anaya’s obnoxious band; all the stealth magic in the world wouldn’t help when you were actively making a ruckus, and before the two could make it halfway towards the stage, they hit a spiritual brick wall, countless spirits coalescing around them and haranguing them with insults about their families, their shitty music, their dog, and their life choices. Like, ew, you still collect
dolls at your age? My god, it’s the 21st century and you’re still wearing the clothes picked out for you by the patriarchy? Ugh, you absolutely reek of Horror piss. All the while, Endsinger’s music, neither hypnotic nor destructive, continued to hammer in their minds, the telepathic beat slipping past sound-cancelling attempts.
Anaya’s knights took swipes at the spirits, of course, but they weren’t holding the spirits at bay. Rather, the spirits, displeased as they were, still did not actively attack. Their ectoplasm bodies were
only a wall, for now, and the only attacks they did were verbal ones. This was certainly a mob, unified by intent to oppress the minority, and perhaps there was some evil injustice to this.
But then again, Anaya started this.
Through her earmuffs, the chanting of the Fanclub turned to naught but murmurs, yet Endsinger’s song rang clearly through her head regardless, electrifying chords racing into her skull and shaking down her spine. The pain grounded Viva momentarily though, whatever hypnotic suggestions dissipating for an instance of clarity, and from that moment of concentration, another ramp rose up. Her ascent went unimpeded, but in the distance, she could see three other magical girls. They shone with the grace of Beacon, shooting through the skies towards the center of the stage.
Her revolvers too, had been touched by the magic of another unseen girl, laden with curses equal to her own. Sisters all around, but for now, she will face the lich alone.
Bullets burst from Viva’s firearm, line of sight attained, but with only one adversary firing shots at her, Endsinger simply put the gunshots into her routine. With a diabolical grin, she stepped atop the mountain of rubble with vicious grace, swinging her guitar-axe out of the way of errant bullets as she continued to strum her demented song. This close, the force of the telepathic music was almost unbearable, drowning out whatever thoughts burned furiously in Viva’s mind. And, now that Viva was in the center, the hypnotic light pattern of the Fanclub increased greatly in efficacy. They swung back and forth like a laser show made of the dead, and they pushed for a regularity, a rhythm in her own movements, desiring synchrony with the music, predictability in her gunfire.
So far, for all her grandiose posturing, Endsinger had not yet attacked anyone.
Was this pacifism from a necromantic muscian, or did the Lich only want one thing, and it's disgusting?
Th3King0fChaos
Creative Chaos
Guardian Angel Haruki
Verjil
AThousandCurses
Kero
High Moon
Phase
Rabidporcupine
