Quick thing: thanks, Black Shinto for favoriting, both this piece and Times Change! It's great to have you on board.
As we always do around this time, let's jump straight into response time, shall we? No reason to hold back. I always love hearing what you lovely people have to say, and what your thoughts, if any at all, on this piece are.
whwsms: without the need to change gear, let's get right into the little system we have set up here, in regards to reviews and responses. I have to say, I quite enjoy said system, myself!
It's almost a little bit surprising to see that Kumokawa Seria trusts the Network enough to let its units near the Kamijous, having proved itself to be unreliable, at best in the past. Perhaps, given the fact that she's personally maintaining full control over it, Kumokawa Seria feels more secure?
Moreover, what if Seria's previous assumptions are correct, and those that've commandeered the Network previously are simply biding their time, waiting to accomplish some unknown goal? I suppose, in the end, one sometimes must take chances, for the greater good, or to accomplish a goal they believe must be accomplished.
Against their better judgment, as well, it seems; though both Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki will likely find themselves being wracked with guilt, for both the same and different reasons, they will more than likely fall back on one another for support, as they always have, and always do. Funnily enough, the married couple find themselves in a situation similar to Kumokawa Seria's own; neither party seems to be enjoying what they're doing, but, for what they believe to be the greater good, they're doing it, regardless of what the outcome might be.
The existence of this "Plasminator" would suggest that, prior to the Fall of the Director, Academy City was part of some sort of one-sided arms race, presumably with itself as the direct competitor. As you suggested, I don't think D-3000's discovery of this "toy" will bode well for anyone, especially not for everyone's favorite filth-mouthed machine; but don't forget, there's someone who's keeping tabs on HighMind's activities, and they could be growing closer and closer to directly intervening than any of us think. Perhaps HighMind is aware of this as well, to some extent.
You didn't miss anything, friend! You've hit just about everything on the head in your review. Admittedly, the last chapter was more of a narrative-advancing mechanism, with a decent sprinkling of character development to go along with it.
But from this chapter onwards, we're going to be moving upwards and onwards. The pace will be picked up as both action and suspense begin to share the reigns with narrative advancement; with the Kamijous nearing their destination, and the other level fives, it's only a matter of time until the inevitable clash with the Darkness of Academy City reaches its boiling point, and then explodes.
As always, it's great to know that I'm able to consistently gain your approval! I hope to be able to continue to do so, through subsequent chapters!
321jaz: as stated previously, the preceding chapter essentially served to advance the narrative, while adding character development in for good measure, in order to spice things up, and keep the flavor fresh.
"With great power, comes great responsibility." Hmm. Which uncle was it that uttered these words? Was it… Uncle Bob? No, that doesn't sound like anything Uncle Bob would've said. Uncle Brandon? Uncle… Ben? Nah, it couldn't have been someone named Uncle Ben.
Don't worry, I know I'm not funny.
Mental Out, as you said, is still quite the sight to see, even after all the years that've passed; Kamijou Misaki also seems to have developed some new tricks. Though the situation indeed called for it, Misaki didn't seem particularly happy to put her ability to use; it makes one wonder what another Misaki, from another time and place would think of that, doesn't it? You'll definitely be seeing more Mental Out, and you'll definitely be seeing some more of its IN-teresting applications. That much I can promise.
Indeed, Deadlock almost seems to be the underdog amongst the gangs who've nearly taken full control of what's left of Academy City. Perhaps Gunpei is, or was the reasoning behind that? He certainly wasn't the most likable individual, and I'm quite certain that he'd managed to get under more than one person's skin, during is time in the world. If there is such a thing as Heaven and Hell, Lucifer himself is probably sick to death of Gunpei already; someone like Kihara Gunpei wouldn't have gone upstairs.
It certainly seems that way; ironically, as a certain foul-mouthed machine once said, "go big or go home." It seems another sentient machine might be taking that advice just a little bit too literally. Though we never quite got to see what Accelerator's own plasma-based attack would've been like, due to the timely intervention of Misaka Mikoto and the sisters so long ago, perhaps we'll get to see something similar through this "Plasminator"? As with all things, only time will tell.
As always, I'm glad to know that I'm able to consistently gain your approval! I hope to be able to do so in the future, through subsequent chapters!
With Sogiita Gunha working within the Moonlight Cinema, and easily overcoming all challenges that threw themselves in the seventh strongest level five's way, Academy City's "top dog" had taken to sitting outside, on the rightmost staircase's top step. His higher mind was consumed by thought, and by contemplation not only of the future, but of the present and of the past. Thoughts passed Accelerator's higher mind by like bullet trains, he could barely grasp onto them.
There was a cool, but weak breeze, that ruffled Accelerator's hair, and kissed the scalp beneath it, as it sifted through the individual, snowy-colored strands, pushing them aside. His hair's fringe was awkwardly batted about, as were his bangs. An unusual chill ran down the "top dog's" spine, and his frail form shuddered as a result. With barely any meat on his bones, and only a thin layer of skin stretched over his skeletal structure, the chill of the breeze struck him harder than it would've struck most.
Looking downwards, towards his lap, Accelerator clutched his smartphone in his right hand; the hand's fingers coiled around the device like the roots of some great, ancient tree. There was no way that Accelerator could've known it, but he found himself in a situation similar to one that damnable hero, Kamijou Touma had found himself in some time ago.
On the tempered glass screen of Accelerator's phone, a photograph was on display. His crimson eyes examined the photograph thoroughly, taking in every pixel, and every color that was present before him.
The photograph had been taken in some professional photography studio, perhaps in a department store, more than likely somewhere in Academy City. Accelerator's higher mind found itself unable to recall the specifics.
The photograph's backdrop was a waterfall, flowing amongst lightly-shaded, rocky walls, the water itself pouring down into a small, natural reservoir, flanked by tall, elegant trees, whose leaves were shades of red, golden and green. The sky above the scene was bright and blue, dotted only with a few fluffy, harmless-looking clouds.
The Accelerator in the photograph looked younger than the Accelerator who peered down at the photograph; his hair was shorter, and his facial features were considerably less wrinkled, his eyes less tired-looking. The bags beneath the eyes of the Accelerator in the photograph weren't as large, nor as dark.
It was the smiling forms of Last Order, and those two annoying imbeciles, Yoshikawa Kikyou and Yomikawa Aiho that brought an awkward, crooked grin to the face of the Accelerator beyond the photograph.
That biologically older brat, Misaka Worst, was, of course, tugging at either of Accelerator's ears, her tongue stuck out between her lips, her eyes closed tightly shut, as if in protest of the situation she'd found herself in. Despite the fact that he was being harassed, the Accelerator in the photograph looked genuinely happy.
"Accelerator?"
Academy City's "top dog" locked his phone almost immediately, and hastily stuffed the device back into his pocket. Swiftly craning his neck to the left, his eyes' vision fell upon the form of Misaka Mikoto, who'd stepped out from within the derelict theater. The creaking, complaining door closed shut behind her, slowly, pulled by gravity's force. In a way, the door was like them, being pulled in a certain direction when it, and they didn't particularly want to be, by circumstances and by forces beyond their collective control.
Accelerator couldn't believe that he'd just compared himself to a door. He wanted to slap himself across the face.
Clicking his tongue, Accelerator turned away, placing either of his hands into his sweater's front pocket. "Oi, third ranked. What brings you?"
Misaka Mikoto looked down at him, from where he stood. What was he, even? What was Accelerator? The Railgun's mind flashed back to the text conversation she'd had not so long ago with her lover, in which she'd encouraged the Railgun to try and adjust to his existence, the fact that he would, from time to time, be a part of her life. She'd spoken with her old friend, Uiharu Kazari, via instant messaging, as well, regarding the matter. Though the Goalkeeper had taken a similar stance to that of Mikoto's lover, she was more adamant that getting closer to Accelerator would be a strategically wiser move than continuously pushing him away. Uiharu Kazari was continuing to keep that cold, calculating air about her, and Mikoto couldn't say that she approved of it.
Her mind agreed; but Mikoto's heart told her that this man was a monster, and a butcher who deserved to die. She didn't quite know whose word to take on the matter.
"Looking for fresh air, too? It's stuffy in there, isn't it? I guess it makes enough sense. A window probably hasn't been opened in that place in years," Mikoto casually remarked.
Accelerator continued to stare ahead. Stretching his back, he awkwardly shuffled in place, before he tossed his hair's fringe from his face, with a sharp whip of his frail-looking neck; Mikoto found herself feeling surprised that it could move so swiftly, and with such force.
"Yeah. It smells like fucking shit, too. Probably animal shit. Birds, maybe fucking rats. Good fucking place to set us up, goddam coward of a Director.
"So, third ranked. What the fuck did you think of the things the second ranked conjured up, huh? Sixth ranked seemed to like 'em, so did the seventh ranked. Look like they can stir up some shit."
Mikoto shrugged, though Accelerator couldn't see the action being performed. "They're more useful for Touma and Kamij- Misaki, than for us, but, I guess it's the thought that counts. Kakine-san doesn't… you know… make things sparingly. Can't blame him, the old one was… pretty…"
"Fucked up? Completely fucking deranged? Utterly insane? A maniac? A goddamn bastard who deserved to die?"
Mikoto found herself breathing a sigh.
"That's ironic. That you'd say that about someone else, when, only ten years ago, you weren't any different. If anything, you were worse… how many people did he kill, I wonder? Anywhere near as many as you?
"Fuck, Mikoto, just… let go. There's nothing you can do to change it, you can't bring them back! You know what fucking happened! He was being played! See? This is your problem. This is exactly why you're so far away from everyone, because you're so hung up with the PAST!"
The Railgun silenced her mental self-berating, and swiftly moved to change the subject. "Yeah, all of those. Now that you mention utterly insane maniacs, I wonder… Accelerator, do you have any idea what happened to Mugino? You know, "Meltdowner?"
It was Accelerator's turn to shrug. Rising from his seat on the step, he turned, and faced the Railgun, the young woman whose sisters he'd slaughtered by the thousands, like so many cattle destined to wind up on someone's dinner plate. He'd watched them bleed out, one after another, their faces expressionless despite the unbelievable pain they must've been in.
When he closed his eyes, Accelerator could still sometimes hear their final, monotonously-spoken words, and see their blank eyes.
Illuminated beneath the glow of the moonlight, shining between the clouds that'd rolled in, obstructing the Railgun's view of the night sky, Academy City's "top dog", standing before her, was like something out of some dream; or, perhaps, more like something out of some nightmare. He was, undoubtedly, the strongest that there was. Yet, so long ago, he'd been absolutely broken by two people, one of which was among the weakest.
"No idea, third ranked. Maybe she played it smart, and got the fuck out of this shithole. Maybe she's fucking dead. Who knows? Who cares? She's definitely not fucking here, helping us with this goddamn mess, so who gives a fuck where she went off to? The bitch is irrelevant, always was just a fourth-string piece of…"
"She was involved, too, you know. To an extent."
Accelerator raised an eyebrow. Shifting his weight from spindly leg to another, he looked into Mikoto's chestnut brown irises, and he watched as she shivered. He unconsciously moved to step towards her, but she stepped back. An odd pang, something that Accelerator wasn't quite familiar with travelled up his chest, and into his throat, where it became lodged. It wouldn't have been the first time a woman with chestnut brown hair had stepped away from him.
"Involved? What the fuck are you going on about?"
He knew exactly what the third ranked was going on about; but what was he even supposed to say? Could he really say anything? Instead, Accelerator played it safe. He kept his mouth shut, and waited for the young woman opposite him to say something else, anything else.
"With everything that'd happened back then, with… them. My sisters. She got herself involved with the experiments, or, at least, involved with people who were part of them, for cash, I'm sure. That… them, ITEM, they were mercenaries. I don't even really know why I brought it up.
"Do you smoke, Accelerator? Do you have one? A cig, that is. I don't smoke much, but, I wouldn't mind having a drag. Just to calm my nerves. I really shouldn't, but I need it."
"I don't smoke, because I'm not a fucking idiot, third ranked. That shit will kill you."
"This City is killing me faster than any cigarette ever could, Accelerator."
He wasn't about to argue with that logic.
A great rumbling caught the respective attentions of both the number one strongest, and the number three strongest espers in Academy City, both who turned their attention towards the street beyond the theater's vehicle-less parking lot, from where the sound had originated.
It appeared that the OFFICER Network's units similarly had their collective curiosity peaked, as they focused on the audible stimuli, as well. For only a moment the robotic police officers' weapons had been raised, before they lowered them, seemingly returning to a neutral state.
Misaka Mikoto's eyes widened, and Accelerator raised an eyebrow at the sight. Slowly progressing down the street, towards the theater's location, was one of Academy City's public transportation vehicles. Stranger, the vehicle was flanked by a small group of OFFICER Network units.
Pristine in its condition – both the number one and the number three level fives considered a lack of bullet-created puncture wounds to be pristine – the vehicle, without flashing its signal light, turned right, into the parking lot; the bus's right wheel ground a portion of a damaged walkway beneath it, causing chunks of debris to fly outwards from the point of impact. The front of the bus crashed into, and swiftly destroyed a small planter, sending soil and brick material flying outwards from the point of impact.
"What the… fuck?" Accelerator rhetorically inquired. "You think it's those fucking heroes? You think they hijacked a fucking bus?"
"Misaki's ability can do some… interesting things," Mikoto remarked, seemingly just as stunned as Academy City's "top dog". "It's possible that, if it is them in the bus, they got access to the bus that way. Why, though? Why steal a bus? Whoever's driving is pretty bad."
Within the bus's interior, Kamijou Touma's shoulders tensed up, as he forced the enormous vehicle he'd commandeered to come to a grinding halt, accidentally destroying another walkway, as the vehicle's wheels crushed it beneath them.
Touma had, through trial and error, guided the vehicle into the center of the vacant parking lot, driving over only a few other walkways, and crushing portions of only a few of those. The vehicle's steering wheel was plastered with sweat, as were the palms of his hands, which came to rest in the young man's lap. In the end, he was thankful that no living human beings, or animals had been caught in his path.
While the married couple was initially surprised by the sight of the swarming OFFICER Network units that'd congregated in the theater's parking lot, the sight could be explained easily enough; the machines could've arrived beforehand, with the same intentions as those who'd been tasked with assaulting the "Motherlode". This, however, implied that the OFFICER Network was functioning properly, and both Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki knew that wasn't something that'd happened in years.
Turning back to face his beloved, Touma rose from the driver's seat, his legs awkwardly vibrating as he struggled to make his way towards the woman he loved so much. Closing the distance between himself and Misaki, he set himself next to her, in the surprisingly spacey seat. Leather folded beneath his weight, and produced a soft hissing sound as air was forced either way opposite him, from within the seat.
"How're you holding up, beautiful? Everything okay? If there's anything you want to talk to me about before we leave here, don't be afraid to tell me. Once we… you know, get started, I don't think there'll be a lot of time for communication, you know? I'd rather check, be safe, rather than sorry. Look, you're pale, are you feeling alright?"
"I am fine, husband. I feel… better, now, that I am getting a break. I-it has been some time since I have overused my ability in s-such a manner, but, I will recover. Do I have a fever?"
"Doesn't feel like it. You're good, I think, in that regard. You're still pretty pale, though. Want to sit for a few, let some blood get back up there?"
As Kamijou Touma rested his left hand's palm against his wife's forehead, and then against either of her cheeks, Kamijou Misaki could only smile; even in such dire circumstances, her husband's doting nature shined through, as brightly as ever. She welcomed it, and welcomed every second that Touma spent showing his concern for her. As her husband's hand passed her lips by, Misaki softly kissed it.
Even if time was "of the essence", Kamijou Misaki wasn't about to miss the chance offered to her by her tender, caring lover. Resting the side of her face against his shoulder, Misaki threw her arms around Touma's shoulders, and pulled him close to her. His body's warmth brought her great comfort, a sense which could be obtained nowhere else, and from no one else. For a moment, she closed her eyes, and allowed herself to envision herself, and her husband, with a vision of what could be, if only the world would give them a break; that dream-child.
"What is there to really even talk about, everything? I would much prefer to live in a world in which you and I could live together, and love together in peace; but, evidently, that is too much to ask. So, instead, here we are, trying to make that world a possibility through our own blood, sweat and tears, as we always have. As always, this world tests us, expecting more from us, and, as always, it seems that we have been forced to answer the call, by forces beyond us; but as always, we will outlast, and defy the expectations."
Touma's arms had found themselves wrapped around his wife's shoulders. After placing a kiss on the crown of her head, Misaki nuzzled him.
"I know. I guess… I guess there really isn't a whole lot to say, is there? Maybe this is all we'll have to do, Misaki. Maybe, with this GROWTH crap dealt with, things might start going back to normal. I'd rather hope than not hope.
"Gangs can't really survive without yen to feed themselves, and cloth themselves, and all that? They must need yen, or some type of currency for their weapons, right? They won't just smuggle themselves. Fuck it, if you're game, then I'm game. Let's just go get 'em."
Rising from their shared seat, both Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki released one another, only for Touma to immediately take Misaki's left hand in his own right. Squeezing, as gently as he could manage, Touma looked to her, and offered her his best smile. In response, Misaki offered her husband her own best, widest, and warmest smile possible, given the circumstances.
"When your hand is in mine, husband, I feel like I can do anything. I feel like there is nothing that could keep me from accomplishing what it is that I truly desire."
"I know the feeling, Misaki. Just being near you makes me feel like that. You're my motivation, you know, beautiful. You're my fuel."
Together, hand in hand, the married couple moved towards the first set of the bus's doors. Kamijou Misaki forcibly pushed the doors open with her free hand, by grasping onto the right door's railing, and manually performing the role a series of mechanical systems within the bus were supposed to. With Mental Out finally disengaged, the young woman finally felt her strength returning, when it'd been absolutely sapped, previously.
The breeze was the first thing to hit the couple, once they exited their ill-gotten vehicle. Cool, and oddly refreshing, it played with both of their heads of hair, tossing Misaki's bangs about, and ruffling the roots of Touma's, as it kissed both of their faces.
Before the two, both Accelerator and Misaka Mikoto, the Railgun waited. Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki were hit by an overwhelming sense of déjà vu; so much so that both the young man and the young woman looked to one another, as if to say, "do you feel that?"
"Goddamn heroes, whose bus did you fucking borrow?" Accelerator inquired from afar, his voice raised. The OFFICER Network's machines didn't seem to be concerned by the fact that two individuals in their mid-twenties had been commandeering a public transportation vehicle.
Instead of attempting to apprehend the "criminals", the machines simply chattered amongst themselves, and occasionally paced about, aimlessly. Mikoto shot the number one strongest esper a questioning glance, before she moved past him, and began approaching the Kamijous. With an indifferent shrug, Accelerator moved towards the theater's entranceway doors.
As she closed the distance between herself and the married couple, Misaka Mikoto threw her arms open, and then, once the two were within her arms' reach, Mikoto took both Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki into a warm, friendly embrace, pulling them close to her form, and tightly clinging to them both.
"Touma, Kamijou-sa… Misaki, I'm sorry you two had to get caught up in this. Then again, knowing our luck, it probably would've happened either way. Are you hurt? Either of you? Did anyone get hurt? Did you just find this bus abandoned, or something? Gah. So many questions. I need to get my head straight, I'm s-sorry. I don't mean to run up to you and start grilling you, I really don't, I'm not about that anymore."
Misaki responded by shaking her head, ashamed. "No, and… no. I used my ability to obtain it. It felt wrong, and it still does. I hate this feeling, this guilt."
Though the group broke their embrace, Mikoto's grip on the Mental Out user's shoulder tightened; unconsciously, her grip on Touma's shoulder tightened, as well, before she pulled away completely, if reluctantly. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Mikoto spoke her piece.
"I'm sure you had your reasons for deciding that this was the way you were going to get here, Misaki. I would've just taken you both myself, if it wasn't so dangerous. If anything was to happen to you because of my own incompetence, I'd never be able to forgive myself. I'm just glad you got here in one piece. Don't feel bad; there're worse things you could've done, or could do, speaking hypothetically; it's just a bus."
Turning away, and nodding in the theater's direction, Mikoto pointed her right hand's index finger towards the abandoned structure, her ponytail whipping as she tossed her neck to one side. As the Railgun began to slowly move in the structure's direction, the married couple first looked to one another, and then followed behind their old friend, apparently trusting her judgment.
"I'm not sure who set everything up in there, but, there's a lot; like, a LOT. I think it'd be easier for you if you saw it all for yourself. The Director must've had a stockpile of weapons, or… something. Maybe Kakine-san made them? I'm not sure, maybe we don't want to know."
Neither Kamijou knew quite how to respond. They simply followed behind the Railgun, who didn't seem to be too surprised at the lack of a response. Climbing up the leftmost staircase, and approaching the entranceway doors, Mikoto waved her fingers; instantly, electricity jumped from her forehead, and the closest door was yanked open, swung outwards. Its hinges creaked and protested, but were powerless, as the metal the door's frame was made of was forcibly manipulated.
The Railgun held the door in place, until both Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki entered the run-down lobby of the theater.
The door slowly closed shut, complaining all the while, as the married couple took in their surroundings. The theater had, evidently, been rather hastily abandoned; everything seemed to remain as it had on the day the theater's owners had, presumably, called it quits.
The numerous popcorn machines behind the counters remained, the arcade and other game cabinets remained intact, and largely untouched by vandals. Prize machines were stocked with mouldering stuffed animals, while arcade machines featuring firearm and vehicle dashboard-based peripherals were in decent condition.
The carpeted path beneath the married couple's respective feet was rotten, mouldy, and torn in places, while the uncarpeted, tiled flooring was dirtied, wet, and unkempt. The second counter, to the couple's left, was apparently where snacks and beverages would've been ordered, as the shelves and smaller racks behind the counter were still stocked with goods.
Kamijou Misaki spoke the words her husband was searching for, but couldn't quite find.
"It is like… like everyone simply disappeared. I do not think I have quite seen anything like this before. This is, ironically enough, like something out a film."
"It got me too, at first," Mikoto explained. Leaning against the closest counter, with her arms folded beneath her bosom, where, judging by the presence of cash registers, and computer setups, film tickets would've been exchanged for currency.
"I don't know if this place is a front, or if it is, or was a legitimate theater and was just left to rot like this, but I definitely got the same janky vibes. Vandals usually eat places like this up, Kuroko used to see it all the time on Judgment jobs. It's… it's really, really janky. Don't breathe too deeply, either; pretty sure this place is filled with asbestos, old, nasty-ass metal foundation, ceilings, that sort of thing."
"THIS THING IS AWESOME! IT'S SO GUTSY! KAKINE-SAN'S GUTS ARE BEYOND THE LEVEL OF MERE MORTALS! JUST LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL CREATION!"
It was the electronic enhancements that had been applied to Sogiita Gunha's voice that'd caught the trio off guard; it was the twelve-foot-tall, completely white, vaguely human-shaped thing from which his voice was broadcasted that kept the trio's respective attentions.
Tall, and sleek, the thing had nearly all the "pieces" that would've made a functioning human body. Though it lacked a head, the protrusion jutting from the center of the thing's torso could've doubled as one. Mounted upon its back, two great weapons that resembled cannons sat, pointed directly in the trio's direction. Its legs were as thick as tree trunks, as were its arms; its rectangular, toeless feet were like white-colored blocks of concrete, its three-fingered hands looking more like mechanical claws, like those in the nearby prize machines.
Touma threw his hands up, exasperated; he'd accidentally brought Misaki's hand up with his own, though she didn't seem to mind, or, perhaps, didn't notice. "Okay, I have to ask. I just have to, there's no way I'm going to be able to just let this go. What even is that?"
"Hell, on two legs!" Sogiita Gunha's voice boomed from within, its volume increased well beyond natural levels. "It's like Christmas in September! They're all so gutsy!"
Mikoto shook her head from side to side, as she began to massage her temples with her hands' index and middle fingers. She'd already had enough of Sogiita Gunha for a lifetime, maybe more than one lifetime.
Forcibly pushing herself away from the counter, Mikoto motioned for the married couple to follow her.
With Sogiita Gunha's controlled machine in hot pursuit, the trio made their way towards what had once been, and, to an extent, still was the snack counter.
From the counter, a rat scurried away, dropping a small corn chip that it'd been nibbling on. Mikoto jumped at the sight of the thing quickly rushing behind the counter, while Misaki felt sympathy for it; its big, beady black eyes were unreadable to her.
Making a left, the trio and the white machine found themselves walking down a dimly-lit hallway. Though not particularly long, the hallway was quite wide, flanked by film posters on both sides, and large, rotting cardboard cut-outs that were placed about. Dangling from the ceiling, numerous cheap-looking plastic bats were present, suspended by visible threads.
Kamijou Misaki's attention was focused almost entirely on one of the film posters, which the group soon ended up passing.
It depicted a burning cityscape, with licking, bright green flames consuming high rise structures; the skyline was a dull, sickly shade of green, and the sun appeared to be almost completely blotted out, as very little daylight seemed to be reaching the cityscape below the skyline. Judging by the large text at the top of the poster, the film was titled "SOUL HARVEST".
Silently, Misaki recalled that the film had been released in 2005; it'd been quite controversial, due to its rather nonchalant dealings with the topics of ritualistic incest and equally ritualistic, but also equally disturbing rape.
"Third theater on our right," Mikoto stated, snapping the Mental Out user out of her trance-like state. "That's where everything was set up, don't know by who. Accelerator should be in there. If not, I don't know where he managed to run off to."
As before, the Railgun yanked open the large, ornate red door that lead into "theater eight", with the use of her ability. Sparks had leapt from her forehead as she'd worked her magic, temporarily causing the theater's lighting to flicker; both Misaki and Touma were still surprised that the theater even had its power enabled.
Stepping through the doorway, and into "theater eight", the trio's eyes were assaulted by an almost blinding sea of synthetic, golden light beaming down from the ceiling. The trio had found themselves on a small ramp, which would have to be ascended to reach the theater's seats, and its great silver screen.
The rotted, and still further rotting carpeted floor of "theater eight's" interior reeked like the scent of mould, dead fish and spoiled foodstuffs. Mikoto seemed to be the worst affected of the trio, as she lifted her shirt over her nose, holding the article of clothing turned facemask in place with both of her hands.
"O… kay."
The eyes of both Kamijou Misaki and Kamijou Touma widened at the sight before them. Having ascended the small, ramp-like passageway, the married couple had followed Misaka Mikoto to the theater's enormous, easily five hundred-inch screen.
The screen itself wasn't what had caught the married couple's respective attentions, however, nor had it been the cause of Touma's previous, exasperated vocalization.
Rather, it was the five, white human-shaped machines, identical to the thing from which Sogiita Gunha's voice had been previously broadcasted. Additionally, a lengthy metallic table had been set in place, within the space between the theater's front row seats, and the first row of seats some eight feet behind those. The table's surface was covered from one end to the other in piles of firearms; assault rifles, pistols, shotguns, and even rocket launchers, with the appropriate ammunition nearby were visible.
As the Railgun had predicted, Academy City's "top dog" had sat himself in a seat among the second row of seats behind the front row. His right leg was crossed over his left, and both were balanced on the backrest of the seat in front of Accelerator's own.
"How does it feel to be a couple of criminals, you goddamn heroes?" Accelerator mockingly inquired. "Grand theft auto is a pretty nasty offense. Didn't think either of you had it in you; honestly, I'm surprised you didn't fucking walk, or try to bum a quick jump from Move Point or the other teleporter brat."
Touma found himself chuckling at the obvious attempts to rile him up, and, to Mikoto's surprise, Misaki seemed to be taking Accelerator's jabs quite well, as she quietly produced a few giggles.
"Says you, "tou-san," Touma spat, holding his right hand's middle finger in Accelerator's direction. Accelerator returned the gesture, briefly. "Fuck you, hero."
Misaki managed to get in on the sudden, and unexpected, but greatly appreciated fun. She stuck her tongue out in the direction of Academy City's "top dog". "Tou-san" is such a tsundere. He is somewhere between type one and type two."
"And fuck you too, fifth ranked. Go suck up to the fucking hero."
"Your ability to joke at a time like this is very gutsy, indeed! You've earned my respect ONCE AGAIN; but we ought to focus our efforts on the work that was set out for us to complete. Then, we can have double the guts, and rest easy knowing that our job is done," Gunha spoke, his voice crackling from within the white, human-like machine that had made its way towards the table.
"Kamijou-san and Kamijou-san, you gutslords! You should try and get into one of these. It can amplify even my own guts to an incredible degree; who knows what they might do for yours!"
Mikoto nodded, partially in approval. Sogiita Gunha seemed just a little bit too excited about his new toy. The Railgun sighed, and made her way towards the first row of seats, below the row in which Accelerator had set himself down. Pulling down, and then throwing herself into the nearest seat, some six seats away from Accelerator, Mikoto tossed her left leg over her right, and began to bounce her foot repeatedly, as she folded her arms. The seat itself had creaked in protest, but held.
"So, Touma, Kamij… Misaki, here's what's happening. Aihana-san is, as far as Accelerator, Sogiita-san and I know, inside this "Motherlode" place, scouting things out for us. We haven't really come to a complete decision just yet – we didn't want to come to one without you two being here – but, a frontal assault might not be the smartest idea, especially if the people running that place have tech like Capacity Down, or maybe something worse.
"Now, we could get you, Misaki, up there in one of the machines Kakine-san made, and you could use your ability, but… see, the possible existence of Capacity Down, or other anti-esper technology, and the fact that we just don't really know how much abuse Kakine-san's Dark Matter can take, it's probably not a smart idea. This is what we've been stuck on, so we've really been waiting for word from Aihana-san."
Accelerator clicked his tongue. "What the third ranked is trying to say is, this is going to be a bit harder than the Director's fucking crony made it out to be. If they just throw the fucking Capacity Down shit on straight away, the third ranked won't be able to disable anything, and you, fifth ranked, won't be able to use your mind powers."
"Alright, idea time," Touma remarked. "I assume you know about all of those robots outside in the parking lot? There's got to be a hundred of them, at least. Have you figured them into your equation?"
Mikoto raised an eyebrow, but didn't interrupt, assuming her old friend still had more to say.
Accelerator, however, wasn't going to offer him such courtesy. "Yeah. You have any idea why they're all over the place, either of you fucking heroes? Have they even moved? Maybe they're fucking broken, or something. Saw a few following you two."
"Your best respect guesses are all about as good as ours," Kamijou Misaki stated. Kamijou Touma nodded in agreement. Pacing, from left to right, he stuffed either of his hands into his pockets, and produced a series of curious-sounding "hms".
"Don't really know why the robots followed us, or why there's a whole pile of them in the parking lot. Actually, I'd assumed that you might've known, but… I guess not. Weird, they haven't done anything like this before."
Kamijou Misaki, who'd taken to leaning against a nearby wall spoke up once again. "I might have an idea; though, I presume such has already been thought of. Misaka-sa… Mikoto? Can you manipulate those machines with your electromaster abilities?"
Misaka Mikoto seemed to begin thinking, as she ceased bouncing her foot. Raising her right hand to her chin, she cupped her lower face in the palm of her hand as her brow furrowed. "No," she mumbled. "Well, I don't know. I can throw them around as much as I want, but I don't know if I can take control of them. I've never actually tried, I guess I've always just assumed that the Network is untouchable."
"Using 'em as a fucking distraction was something that occurred to me, too," Accelerator spoke, his voice low, as if he was deep in thought, despite the presence of the words his lips and tongue created.
"They'd probably still throw on that Capacity Down, or whatever shit they've got lying around, though. We need some way of getting the third ranked in there without her being noticed. Oi, someone text the sixth ranked, see what's up. He'd better not be fucking dead."
As Misaka Mikoto began doing exactly that, an odd, concerning thought came to Kamijou Misaki's higher mind, as she looked upon the frail form of Academy City's "top dog".
She closed the distance between herself and Accelerator, giving her husband a soft peck on the cheek along the way. For a moment, he'd taken her right hand into his left, and seemingly didn't want to let go, before he relented, albeit reluctantly.
Misaki would've been lying to herself if she thought, even for a moment, that she didn't want to simply stand before Touma, with his hands in her own; but there would be time for that at a later date. For the moment, the knowledge that her everything was nearby served to calm her higher mind's racing thoughts.
Accelerator, upon noticing that Academy City's fifth strongest level five was approaching, began to grin almost malevolently, and produced a soft chuckle. Bringing his legs down from the backrest of the seat in front of him, he folded his arms across his chest. "Oi, fifth ranked. Good to see you. Got any more birdbrained ideas?"
"What are we going to do about those within this "Motherlode"? All of these firearms have been supplied for us, Kakine-san has created these threatening-looking machines, and, we six, some of the most capable – and arguably destructive – individuals in this City have been gathered in one place. The answer is almost too obvious."
She wasn't wrong. Academy City's "top dog" leaned forward, clasping his hands, grin fading as his lips curled downwards. The crimson orbs sitting within either of his eye sockets gazed down at the cold, featureless concrete flooring beneath the row of seats.
"Isn't it obvious, you fucking hero? The other one's been rubbing off on you… then again, if I was fucking married to him, I'd probably be hero-fied too. I say that with the most respect I possibly fucking can, fifth ranked.
"What else would we do? I'll kill them all… I doubt that I'll be the only one turning them inside out. Third ranked's got a lot of pent-up aggression. I just don't give a fuck about them. Who are they to me? Piles of trash that chose their fate as soon as they decided to start willing working with the fucked up underbelly of this dump. Sixth ranked and I already had a talk about this; he's with me. He's probably twisted a few of their fucking necks already."
Kamijou Misaki frowned, as she seated herself next to Accelerator. That wasn't the answer she'd wanted to hear. Producing a frustrated sigh, she leaned in, her golden, starry eyes looking into Accelerator's own. He raised an eyebrow, and clicked his tongue, but didn't openly protest.
"This is an issue of morals, one which is entirely subjective to the individual in question. I will kill only to defend myself, to defend my husband, and to defend each of you, who I call "friend"; but I will not hunt the men and women within that place like animals. I would prefer to simply wipe their collective memories, and send them on their way. Such is a cruel fate, but a life is a life, even with a forcibly cleaned slate."
Academy City's "top dog" produced an indifferent shrug.
"You're thinking about them, aren't you, fifth ranked? I'll admit, I was thinking the same fucking thing, but these people… they aren't like them. These people are willingly doing this shit, I'm fucking sure of it. Them? They were victims. These people? They're not fucking victims. You want to know who the victims are? We're the fucking victims, fifth ranked. Every decent man, woman and fucking child in this City are the victims."
Before Kamijou Misaki could respond, Misaka Mikoto spoke up.
"I got a message from Aihana-san," Mikoto announced. Before Kamijou Misaki turned away from Accelerator, she took him into an embrace, one which he reluctantly returned. Despite his brave, and arguably controversial words, Accelerator's arms felt weak, and spindly, like the arms of someone suffering from some terminal illness that wracked their body.
Touma, who'd remained quiet, deep within his own thoughts had been stirred. He noticed that Sogiita Gunha was nowhere to be found, nor was the machine from which his voice had been broadcasted. He also noticed that Kamijou Misaki wasn't where she'd been standing.
For a moment, panic gripped him, as his eyes looked from left to right within their sockets. His heart was suddenly beating too quickly for its own good.
Once he'd managed to lay eyes upon his beloved's form, Touma's reeling mind began to settle back into place, and his heartbeat slowed, returning to a normal pace. Mentally, he berated himself.
Kamijou Touma managed to spit out some words. "What's he saying, Misaka?"
Rather than verbally replying, Mikoto closed the distance between herself and the man who'd been partially responsible for saving thousands of her kin. Offering Touma her phone, Mikoto smiled thinly at him. He smiled back as he carefully took the device into both of his hands.
Examining the phone's tempered glass touchscreen, Kamijou Touma's eyes darted back and forth inside of their sockets, as he read the message that Aihana Etsu had apparently sent.
"hey biribiri! i "disabled" this ugly lookin mf and stole his shit, pretty fuckin stinky tbh. smells like this cumstain hasnt showered in fuckin YEARS! ! ! listen though if youve got a guard or whatevers gear they wont question you. i might be able to get another set for you if youd like to join me in this lovely (fuckin horrible lol) place. hit me back."
Returning the device to its owner, Kamijou Touma looked to Misaka Mikoto, and shrugged; it was the beginnings of plan better than anything he could come up with on the spot.
If "the Motherlode" had looked like an unsightly tumor on the outside, which Aihana Etsu had to admit that it certainly did, it was more like some metallic hive on the inside than a tumor.
He wasn't too far into the belly of the beast; by his own calculations, Etsu had traversed only a few corridors, and only a few more twisting hallways than that. Sounds, which he had to admit, at least subconsciously, were quite eerie rang out; the shrieking of machines was audible, and Etsu could hear heavy clangs, originating both above and below him.
The grated floor beneath his feet creaked and groaned with each step he took, which also caused the loose, rusted railings that flanked him on either side to subtly vibrate. The ceiling above Etsu's head was less of a ceiling and more of a collection of rusted metallic sheets, with wires and beams protruding, dangling downwards.
Etsu wore an ill-gotten, full-faced helmet, his eyes and nose obscured by its tinted visor. Clad in a heavy suit of protective gear, which, while only constructed of simple woolen fabric on the outside, was lined with bulletproof mesh on the inside, the soles of the gear's heavy, steel-toed boots produced a continuous, repetitive series of clanks. In one of the outfit's chest pockets, his smartphone was placed, snuggled within the surprisingly soft fabric.
For a while, Aihana Etsu continued on his way. He hadn't encountered another soul within the twisting, confusing, and darkened halls, and the occasional illuminated corridor he passed through was also unmanned.
For a moment, Etsu contemplated retracing his steps, and simply returning to the rear of "the Motherlode", where he'd previously encountered more than one gear-bearing guard. The frontal gates of the unsightly facility had been crawling with them, as well, when Etsu had last laid eyes on that area of the facility.
Then, the luck of the sixth strongest level five changed. Another set of boots were clanging against grated flooring; Aihana Etsu could hear the sounds, even when he stopped walking, and became completely still. With the knowledge that he hadn't been hearing things alive in his higher mind, Aihana Etsu picked up his pace.
Etsu passed through another ruined corridor, where, by the looks of the limited furniture that'd been tossed about like a child's toys, a fight had likely broken out, excitement and a sense of predatory desire coursing throughout him. He continually tried his best to track the location from where the clanking was being produced. Wherever this other individual might've been, they weren't far away; the clanking was growing closer and closer to Etsu's location.
Their paths crossed. Aihana Etsu, and another heavily geared individual, whose own face was obscured by his full-faced helmet's tinted visor faced one another. Instincts came before thought, and Etsu's Personal Reality went to work, manifesting his finely-honed ability.
His form was surrounded by a layer of lavender-colored, pulsating energy; void, one among the key elements of the Far East. Like a tidal wave crashing upon a helpless shore, a great burst of void surged forward, unrestrained. With only silent, mental commands, Aihana Etsu performed a show of power for his one-man audience.
As if he or she was mowed down by an oncoming vehicle, the one unlucky enough to cross paths with the sixth strongest esper in Academy City was struck, and forced to their knees, their form shuddering, and gasping for breath as their body struggled to combat the unfamiliar force, one which their human form would normally have never been exposed to.
Etsu approached, and, after performing a quick double take, knelt before the damaged foe before him. The sixth strongest level five esper in Academy City condescendingly placed his right hand against his foe's shoulder, and patted him.
"Hey, nice to meetcha. Want to know a secret? I haven't had sex in a week, and I'm very fucking frustrated. What I'm about to demand of you is completely unrelated to the not having sex in a week thing, I don't roll that way. Take your gear off, all of it."
Aihana Etsu provided his foe with a five second window of opportunity to speak. His foe's form awkwardly shuddered, as, from within his helmet, the sounds of their, presumably his retching could be heard. Yellowish, orange-colored bile leaked, trailing, and glopping. When this window of opportunity wasn't utilized, Etsu shrugged indifferently.
He wasn't about to destroy the gear's helmet. Grabbing his retching foe's neck, he examined the helmet they wore; it was of a similar make to his own. It could be effortlessly lifted away from the wearer's head, after a fabric-bound buckle was unsnapped. Etsu did exactly that, and placed the helmet on the ground beside him.
As the sixth had presumed, his foe was, in fact, a male. His face was grubby, covered in cuts, his cheeks, his upper lip and his chin scruffy-looking, dotted with the beginnings of facial hair.
A series of complex and archaic calculations were performed by Aihana Etsu's mind; as a result, sprouting from his left hand's palm, a long, lashing strand of void energy manifested.
It wrapped itself around the neck of Etsu's foe, and, as its wielder rose, the strand of void energy began operating in a similar fashion to a noose, tightening, and denying Etsu's foe of the oxygen he needed to survive.
His legs' thrashing came to a stop, as his form soon fell limp, his face bluish-purple in coloration, his eyes wide, and bloodshot. A combination of bile and salivary gland secretions dripped from his parted lips.
A series of new issues presented themselves, suddenly; how was Aihana Etsu supposed to get this gear to Misaka Mikoto? What would he do with the cadaver?
As if to purposely add insult to injury, the sounds of clanking boots could be heard growing nearer and nearer. From above they came, repetitive and systematic. There was a chance that those responsible for creating the clanking could end up stumbling upon the cadaver.
Perhaps Etsu had moved a bit too quickly. He cursed under his breath, and produced his phone, his fingers tapping away on the device's tempered glass touchscreen.