Summary: [GROUP]'s latest mission is to silence an intelligence agent who's been talking too much. But first, they'll need to infiltrate the woman's base… by dressing up as her favorite form of entertainment.
Author's Note: Inspired by the fourth page of this comic at Danbooru. donmai. us (slash) posts (slash) 931615? pool (underscore) id (equal sign) 3717
Also serves as this story's cover art.
[GROUP], a cold-hearted organization that fights against the dirty underworld of Academy City to defend the honor and purity of mainstream society.
That is the secret order that Musujime Awaki has been forced to be a part of. As a high school dropout whose friends and funds have all been confiscated by the higher ups, she has nothing but her value as a Level 4 esper with the ability Move Point. Beyond her ability to comfortably move objects weighing up to 4500 kilograms over 800 kilometers without need of physical contact, Awaki has no other purpose to life; so she has no problem with Academy City's dark side using her body to its full extent.
With no money and little clothes to her name (which has nothing to do with how she chooses to dress, by the way), Awaki has no choice but to crash at [GROUP]'s safe house, the Nap Room. As the name suggests, the purpose of the building is provide a residence for the four main field operatives; however, since Tsuchimikado Motoharu sleeps in a dormitory like a good little high school boy, Accelerator lives as an in-denial mommy to Last Order at Yomikawa Aiho's place, and Unabara Mitsuki apparently has his own place close to the hospital that cares for his kohai Xochitl, Awaki considers the Nap Room her home. As its only resident, she isn't expecting anybody to be occupying the common area this evening when she opens the front door and tiredly stumbles inside.
"KYAAAAHHHH!"
Thunder and lightning tears up the peaceful night sky, volcanoes spew burning lava all over the defenseless settlements, typhoons wash away helpless victims, and many more natural tragedies occur within the landscape that is inside Awaki's head. At first, she can do nothing but scream at the sight of her three associates in various states of undress. Then Tsuchimikado shimmers and vanishes as she Moves him behind the nearest closed door; a heap of black and white cloth materializes over Unabara's torso; and the television almost lands on Accelerator's head. He flicks on his electrode just in time, activating his vector-manipulating ability to send the heavy piece of technology flying out the window instead.
At the last second, Awaki's Asian instincts kick in, barely teleporting the expensive piece of equipment back to its original position within the living room. However, this still leaves Accelerator pale and skinny and exposed—ARGH GROSS GONNA DIE. He glares at her with murderous intent, but she doesn't catch that because she's furiously rubbing her hands over her eyes in a vain attempt to scour away the horrifying image imprinted in her mind.
"What the hell are you doing?" growls Accelerator.
"Me?" Awaki keeps her hands pressed tightly over her face to shield herself from his blinding white paleness. "What the hell are you doing, stripping in my place?"
There is suddenly a hairball stuck in Unabara's throat. "*cough* Says the exhibitionist *cough cough cough*."
She rounds on him, clenching her fists down by her sides; thankfully, he's still holding the black velvet and white ruffle-lace over himself. Come to think of it, she doesn't own anything that… suggestive (in her opinion). "Whaaa?!"
The pretty boy holds up his hands placatingly. "Did you not get the message detailing our new mission? We need to change clothes to infiltrate the target's territory."
Awaki nervously bops the tips of her forefingers together repeatedly, remembering the abandoned cell phone lying underneath her bed. (Her short skirt doesn't have pockets, the binding bandages she's wearing leave no storage space between her breasts, and her cape-like blazer won't flutter epically behind her if she weighs it down with a phone.) "Uh, is that so…?"
"Musujime-san's bedroom, nya~?" Tsuchimikado sings as he dances from the room she'd thrown him into. At least he's wearing underpants now. Yes, they're her panties, but she's not about to snatch them off his body. Tsuchimikado plucks the mass of ruffle-lace and velvet from Unabara's hands and fluffs it out. "Change of clothes #1: ta-da!"
Awaki's eyes are drawn not towards Unabara's frantic scramble to hide behind something, but to the costume that's unfurling from Tsuchimikado's arms: a French maid's outfit. Shimmering black velvet overlaid with delicate white lace. Stupid bowties to accent certain places. Thigh high stockings.
It takes her a millisecond to complete the calculations in order to flip Tsuchimikado and the maid's costume upside down (taking care not to accidentally fuse man and dress together) on a collision course for the floor. "I'm not wearing that."
Had not Tsuchimikado dropped the unsightly dress and braced his hands against the ground, he would have landed on his head. Instead, he completes the second half of a handspring and lands back on his feet. "No, no, no, this is what I'm wearing, nya!"
The world freezes for a second, where the only sound that Awaki can hear is the dot-dot-dot of utter bewilderment in her head. She then takes the next couple seconds to observe the rest of the common room, now that she's partially accustomed to the sight of her three half-naked [GROUP] colleagues. At Accelerator's feet lies a pair of skinny white jeans with a bunny tail hot-glued to the back. A huge headless Gekota frog suit reclines on the couch. Tsuchimikado is trying to fit a lacy pink headband on his head.
[GROUP], a cold-hearted organization that fights against the dirty underworld of Academy City to defend the honor and purity of mainstream society.
"Where exactly are we infiltrating?"