Quick thing: thanks to 321jaz, FrancisH1992, Generation Zero, Majin Othinus, ilovefreakininfos, toumakamijou298, and Hilem for favoriting! Thanks, 321jaz, ilovefreakininfos, migdude10, toumakamijou298 and Hilem for following!
In a similar style to the main piece, I'll be responding to reviews in Times Change, as well. Any questions, concerns, or suggestions that you have should be sent via PM, so that we can work together to properly address any and all of them. Thank you all for your support and interest in Times Change! Without further ado, let's begin.
321jaz: it's here to stay, friend! Thank you for taking this piece's "review virginity", hahaha.
I wouldn't say it's more fun to write; A Certain Strange Scenario is fun to write in its own way, but there's a certain beauty that comes with lighthearted, humorous literature, as well.
Accelerator's cursing has probably become the norm for Misaka Worst and Last Order, considering that they've lived with him for so long. I think you'll enjoy yourself; PRANK has a lot planned for the future, and with someone like Worst at the reigns, nothing good can come of it. He is, isn't he? Perhaps he's somehow related to another person from another time.
I can't wait to write said antics! If the narrative of Strange Scenario didn't require them to be absent, I would've loved to include Index and Othinus as part of that universe's Kamijou family.
I'm looking forward to having you enjoy it, and that goes for all of you, my lovely readers.
Whwsms: I'm glad to have your seal of approval once again! I don't plan for either of the pieces I'm currently writing to be abandoned; realistically, the only foreseeable obstacle would be my own death – can't really write from beyond the grave. In all seriousness, that's something you don't have to worry about, friend.
I'm happy to hear that you did! Also, you picked up on that during your travels through the wiki, too? It's never explicitly stated, but Index's biting behavior in Kamachi's canon can logically be attributed to an act of affection, or, alternatively, an act of territorial conquest.
The Touman, among other wandering heroes might have just inspired our budding pyrokinesist. I hope to hear from you again in future installments!
Geust: correct! Given that I ship Touma and Misaki ridiculously hard, I suppose it's no surprise. I can't wait to write them! Glorious WAFF galore.
I can confirm that Times Change doesn't take place in the past; rather, it takes place in an alternate timeline of A Certain Strange Scenario's alternate universe, which is set in the future, but I'm considering the idea of a 'how they met' piece once Times Change and Strange Scenario both come to a close.
None taken! The Misaki of the present is a very different person from the Misaki of the past. That's right; in a world full of women who are seemingly dead set on trying to make the former Harem King theirs, Misaki has to protect what's most important to her.
Hilem: Welcome aboard, friend! Thank you for your review! He might just be. He also might not be; you'll have to wait and find out, I'm afraid. Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! That's essentially what Times Change is; I choose to use the term 'alternate timeline', as it's a little less of a mouthful than 'alternate universe of an alternate universe'. Trust me, if PRANK is spearheaded by someone like Worst, there can only be interesting times ahead.
Onto chapter two, and, more importantly, onto the first arc of Times Change, the PRANK Arc!
There was a thunderous crash whose shockwaves rang throughout the halls of a ruined temple. The roof of one of its many antechambers had collapsed, sending a hail of dislodged, shattered golden bricks falling to the paved floors below. An enormous, axe-wielding barbarian had cornered an extremely skinny tuxedo-clad gorilla with lobster hands and hooves of a horse. The simian abomination lunged, but was whacked away by the barbarian's curved, sharpened axe.
The barbarian swung his weapon, and the gorilla raised his arms in front of his face in one final, pathetic attempt at self defense; his tactic was an ineffective one. The barbarian raised his blood-stained axe, and, with a savage cry of ferocity, delivered the killing blow. The head of the axe was buried in the simian's skull, which immediately exploded and showered their shared battleground in blood, brain matter and bone fragments.
"CURMAN WINS! BRUTALIZED!"
Index grunted in frustration as she let her controller fall into her lap. The nun held her chin up with her open palm, and tapped her cheek with her fingers. "Have you ever considered entering a Bloody Fist tournament? I think you could make it to the top, Misaki." Index commented. Though the nun lamented her loss, she wouldn't allow herself to act like a sore loser.
Misaki's cheeks became crimson red as heat rushed to her face. "Thank you, Index! I am not all that good; those who participate in tournaments could effortlessly destroy me. Misaka-san, who does not participate in tournaments at all, is more than a match for me."
"Another round. Already I grow bored of your mindless interactions, mortals." Othinus complained. She kicked her legs back and forth; her tiny heels hit Misaki's shoulder over and over, though the Mental Out user didn't seem to notice.
"Why don't you play for yourself, "Othi-chan?" Misaki asked with a hint of contempt in her voice. She craned her head to look down at the tiny former Magic God. Othinus shrugged indifferently as she ran her hands through her luscious, golden locks. "Those cumbersome controllers are far too large for me. Besides, I prefer to watch your characters beat one another senseless. It amuses me."
Index, sensing the growing tension in the air, resolved to kill it prematurely. "W-why don't we switch characters, Misaki? The Primate Pounder is kind of lousy. I think I might do better if I had a character with better a better defense stat!"
Index's tactic seemed to work; Misaki's attention returned to the nun. Misaki offered a warm smile and pressed the "B" button on her controller, which returned her and Index to Bloody Fist's character selection menu. "I would love to play another round with you. Would you like me to change my character, as well?"
Index shrugged as she moved her highlighted cursor around the menu; dozens of portraits of potential fighters sat in front of a blood-splattered, ruined cobblestone background. Rusted, blood-soaked chains dangled from the bottom corners of the menu, and produced a rattling sound each time the cursor was moved from portrait to portrait.
Index's cursor landed on the portrait of the upper half of what looked to be some sort of dragon-human hybrid; sickly green, fiery scales covered the beast from its snout to its waist, and it had enormous, torn, bat-like wings protruding from its back. The beast's eyes glowed crimson red, and what appeared to be tears of blood dripped from the corners of its eyes.
The nun grinned as she pressed the "A" button on her controller. Misaki didn't seem to notice what character her opponent had selected. After a few moments of indecision, Misaki opted to not change characters.
There was a short loading screen that displayed various tricks and tips to assist new players, such as "crouch to avoid incoming blows! It could save your life!" and "if you find yourself in a corner, press up to jump, and get back into the fray!" In less than twenty seconds, Misaki and Index's characters were tossed into another battle, this time on what appeared to be a large, burning cruise ship that had encountered the misfortune of becoming lost at sea; swarms of detailed former passengers fled from the ruined ship, their getaways, romantic or otherwise completely ruined.
"Draco the Knightbreaker… versus… Curman! FIGHT!" the enthusiastic voice of Bloody Fist's announcer proclaimed. Index turned away from the screen momentarily to look at her opponent; Misaki's face had lost most, if not all of its color, and her pupils had widened in shock. Index's malicious grin only widened. "You monster, you chose HIM?!" Misaki exclaimed in frustration.
Index couldn't hold back; she leaned forward and cackled like a deranged witch as she hit her knee with her closed fist; her Walking Church protected her from any potential bruising that could have come as a result of her actions. "Just don't fill up his Fury Meter, and you'll be fine!"
"There's a reason he's banned from tournaments, Index!" Misaki whined. "That reflection… it's so overpowered…" Index could only giggle in response as she moved her left thumbstick to the right.
Curman charged headfirst into battle. His hide boots slapped against the metallic floors of the cruise ship's deck, his muscular legs carrying him a considerable distance from his starting point. Curman's axe was raised over his head; the fur-clad barbarian tossed his head back and uttered a loud, piercing war cry as he leapt into the air, poised to bury his axe in his foe's chest.
Draco the Knightbreaker rolled to avoid the blow, but its enormous wings proved to be its Achilles' Heel; the axe sliced through its right wing like a knife through butter, and, though Bloody Fist didn't feature body or armor damage, outside of "BRUTALIZED!" cinematics, a considerable chunk of Draco's green life bar vanished in a flash of crimson. The Knightbreaker uttered a grunt of discomfort as it beat its wings and took to the skies.
"Get down from there, Index, you cheater!" Misaki exclaimed in frustration. Her fingers moved swiftly and purposefully across her controller as her grounded barbarian couldn't seem to strike his winged foe, no matter how hard he tried.
"You've actually broken her composure, nun. Keep it up." Othinus commentated.
Curman leapt into the air, hit the ground, rinsed and repeated, over and over again. He swatted his axe at nothing as his foe remained airborne; though the Knightbreaker apparently had no means of attacking while in the air, it was an incredibly irritating farce for the young woman who had control over Curman.
Just as hope began to fade from the woman who controlled Curman, he seemed to unlock a new ability; the right combination of buttons had unintentionally been pressed. Curman gripped the handle of his trusty weapon in both hands, raised his absurdly muscular arms over his head, and, with a mighty toss, sent the weapon spinning through the air. Though Draco made a worthy attempt at dodging the projectile, it was futile. The axe cleaved through Draco's shoulder, and the Knightbreaker came crashing down to the cruise ship below. Its enormous body crashed into the metallic floor, causing the screen to shake as blood spurted from its eyes, mouth, and nostrils. Stars spun around its head as it laid on its back, stunned. Curman had gained the upper hand at last. The barbarian's axe returned to him, and he swung it in a downwards arc; the bloodied weapon bit into its draconic foe's body repeatedly, causing enormous waves of blood and piles of internal organs to fly in every conceivable direction.
Index, despite the dire situation her character found himself in, had a sinister smirk on her face. The shaking orange bar beneath Draco the Knightbreaker's dwindling health bar had been filled to its maximum capacity. The finger on Index's left hand jumped to the "left trigger" button, and the finger on her right to the "X" button. Index pressed both buttons down at the same time, and Draco's orange bar exploded. The screen before the Mental Out user, the nun, and the former Magic God was enveloped in a blindingly bright sea of golden light.
As the light faded, and the game world came back into focus, Kamijou Misaki growled in rage. Index had enabled Draco the Knightbreaker's reflection ability. For thirty seconds, Misaki's character's enemy would be completely invulnerable. Curman's arms were forcibly thrown back as his axe bounced against the Knightbreaker's invisible shield. The Knightbreaker lunged, and swung its tail. Though Curman attempted to roll and avoid the attack, his attempt was thwarted; Draco's tail crashed against Curman's legs, and the barbarian was sent flying, soared over the railings of the cruise ship's deck, and fell out of bounds, resulting in Index winning their battle.
"Ah, it would appear that your overpowered character won. What a surprise," Misaki lamented as she pressed the 'A' button to return to the game's character selection screen. Index giggled as she pressed her thumb against the outstretched hand of Othinus, in a pseudo-high five of sorts. "Well done, nun. You've succeeded through your determination, wit, and the use of a broken character; I couldn't have done better myself," Othinus said, praising her new apprentice.
"Another round? I won't play as Draco, I promise." Index inquired; though the malicious grin had faded from the nun's face, she was far from finished. Misaki smiled warmly and ruffled Index's silver hair with her hands, much to the nun's chagrin. "Maybe tonight? We seem to have lost track of the time, and I have to wake my lazy husband. I do not want to let him ruin his sleep schedule," Misaki responded as she relented, and allowed Index to attempt to fix her hair.
Othinus leapt down from Misaki's shoulder and made her way to Index's leg. She clambered up onto the extremity and knelt down, moving her golden bangs away from her eye as she did so. "Very well; I will take this time to whip the nun into a battle-hardened force to be reckoned with." Othinus proclaimed, arm outstretched. Her hand had curled into a fist, and she wore a determined expression. Misaki could do little more than shake her head and giggle softly to herself as she took her leave from Index's small, but cozy bedroom.
Kamijou Touma felt that something was off. He didn't know what, and he didn't know why, but he simply felt it. His vision was blurry, and the world around him seemed to swim; the walls around him looked to be liquid, rather than solid, and though, much to his relief, a ceiling was present, it too seemed to ripple and splash before him.
As Touma examined his surroundings, he came to realize exactly where it was that he found himself; he was in a place that he was not allowed to enter. His kind was forbidden from this place. If he and his ilk dared to enter, they were deemed trespassers. Or were they? Touma couldn't figure this place out, yet, there he was. Kamijou Touma was in Tokiwadai Middle School. More specifically, Kamijou Touma was in a certain dorm room of Tokiwadai Middle School, with the door locked. Touma noticed a window to his right. No blinds were present, and the window was open, but there was nothing beyond the window. It was as if nothing existed outside of this room, save blackness. Touma felt sickness come over him; he didn't want to look at it any longer than he had to, and so he turned his vision from it.
Even in the darkness of the unlit room, Touma could make out most of his surroundings. Somehow, Touma felt that he had been in this place before. Still, Touma felt that this place was different. The floors were crafted from hardwood, beautifully shined to the point of absurdity. Adjacent to the bed, there was a long, beautifully crafted wooden desk, with a wide, circular white mirror placed against the center of the wall above it. To Touma's right, there were two expensive-looking wooden dressers, whose drawers had delicate flower-like patterns carved into them; Touma only remembered seeing one on his last visit to this place, whenever that might've been. To his left was the tightly locked door, and a large walk-in closet, whose ornate, metallic doors were wide open, revealing rows of delicately hung tops, blazers, and skirts.
Touma looked down at himself, and even in this strange place that seemed unreal, yet felt completely and utterly real, he felt heat rush to his face. He was sprawled out on a large, luxurious bed. To his shock, he wore little more than his boxers. A certain familiar uniform of his had been tossed away and left to rot in a pile. "Kamijou, you idiot! You're… you're almost n-naked! In an Ojou-Sama school, of all the places to be practically naked! Such misfortune… wait… why, though? Why is that a bad thing? I feel as if this is a good thing, but… I'm so confused!"
Soon, another person joined him. A female, to be exact, and everything seemed to come rushing back to him. This female brought great comfort to the nervous Kamijou Touma as soon as he looked at her. She was, given their location, predictably clad in the tight-fitting uniform of Tokiwadai Middle School, which was made up of a white, collared, short-sleeved shirt, a beige blazer which had the middle school's official emblem in its upper right hand corner, and a short navy blue skirt. Accenting the middle school's mandatory uniform, Touma's host wore a pair of elbow-length, lacy white gloves, and thigh high, lacy white stockings to match. Long, luscious, beautiful blonde hair fell to her back, and her eyes – her eyes had beautiful, glowing golden stars in them.
This female was Shokuhou Misaki, his girlfriend, somehow. As Touma looked her up and down, he had a hard time to believe it himself – Misaki was flawless. She had the body of a supermodel, and the mind of a genius. Shokuhou Misaki could have any man she wanted, and yet, she had set her sights on this lowly commoner named Kamijou Touma, whose life was riddled with misfortune and conflict.
"I'm glad to see you're eager, Touma. I'm eager, too, even if I've heard that a girl's first time is the most painful. I know I can trust you; I know… that you won't do anything to harm me." Misaki stated with a warm, loving smile. Misaki climbed onto the bed, and crawled on top of her anxious, nearly panting boyfriend. Touma's heart had quickened at his girlfriend's words. Something, Touma didn't quite understand what, had formed inside of him, yet, he felt as if he understood it completely. With each passing second, it grew. It was a feeling that Touma both was and wasn't familiar with. It confused him, but it also made him feel good. He felt like this was the first time had had found himself in a situation like this, yet, it also felt like he had done this a thousand times with this girl.
Though at least half of Kamijou Touma's mind believed that it had never done anything like this before, his hands seemed to know exactly what to do; he allowed his animal instincts to guide him.
"M-Misaki… can I t-touch you?"
"Of course you can, Kamijou Touma. I want you to be the only man to touch me."
At first, he suddenly became terrified at the thought of what Imagine Breaker might do if it touched his girlfriend's body. He watched on, helpless to act as Imagine Breaker made contact with Misaki's right hip – the distinctive ringing of the unknown power that resided within him didn't come to be. With one barrier broken, his left hand grasped his girlfriend's unoccupied left hip.
"A-are you s-sure you, you know… want this, b-baby? We can stop any time! Honest, n-no drama! All good! Eheheh…" Touma rambled in a hushed voice. He was about to carry on when Misaki swiftly leaned in, pressed her soft lips against his, and silenced him. His eyes closed, and Touma felt his girlfriend's gloved hands begin to softly run through his spiky hair as she periodically produced soft, pleasured moans. Touma opened his eyes ever so slightly, and found that Misaki was furiously blushing; her entire face had turned beet red.
Misaki pulled away, but remained on top of him. She panted, and the lips on her scarlet face curled into an adoring smile. "I do want this, Touma! I want to show you just how much you mean to me… how much I love you, and this is the purest, most natural way of doing so. We've been together long enough, and we've been friends even longer… I know now, more than ever, that I want to take the next step with you, my prince!" Misaki excitedly whispered.
In that moment, Kamijou Touma felt a distinctively familiar confidence, and yet, he felt like he had never been so confident before. The unsure half of Touma felt, perhaps for the first time, even, that this was a decision he wanted to make. "S-so do I, M-Misaki. So do I."
"Kamijou Touma."
"Eh? Misaki? What's up, baby?"
"Baby. Wake up. Come on, wake up. Baby? Oh, you are such a heavy sleeper… wake up? Please? Wait… I have an idea."
Kamijou Touma's eyes opened; no longer was he in the body of a seventeen-year-old boy. He was in the body of a twenty-five-year-old man, sprawled out on the couch of he and his wife's home. Though eight years had passed since that fateful day in which Kamijou Touma and Shokuhou Misaki became one for the first time, Touma found the same woman kneeling before him. She was leaning over him, her lips pressing, separating, and then pressing once again against his. Kamijou Misaki, no longer just his girlfriend, but his beloved wife, was even more beautiful than her sixteen-year-old counterpart.
"I had a feeling that would rouse you. Good evening, sleepyhead." Misaki greeted as she gave herself the chance to come up for air. Touma grinned as he pulled Misaki up onto the couch with him – she gasped, at first, but soon began to giggle. In a familiar scenario, Touma found himself beneath the love of his life. She smiled her beautiful, flawless smile down at him, and her starry eyes looked into Touma's own dark irises. Touma felt like he was on cloud nine. This was his reality, his world; this was no dream.
"Now that you are up, perhaps we could look into dinner? It is quite late, my prince." Misaki suggested. "I could go for something to eat, but I'm not quite done with you just yet." Touma responded as he gently lowered his soul mate back down towards him.
Misaki giggled as she pecked her husband on the lips. "Is that so? I supoooose it has been a long, tiring week, and as always, I want you. We will have to be sneaky about it, but, I am sure that I can take care of your needs." Misaki purred.
"Like that time you sneaked me into Tokiwadai? You've always been so bad." Touma jabbed. Misaki began to quietly giggle, which turned into beautiful, almost musical laughter that pleased Touma's ears. A blush appeared on her cheeks, and she took her husband's hands in her own. "That was a… I do not think that I even have the words to describe it. Perhaps "incredible" would suffice? Yes, I think that works well enough. That was an incredible evening, Touma." Misaki said, just before a content sigh fled from her lips.
"Can't really sneak into Tokiwadai again, can we? But we can sneak past Index and Othi-chan. Sort of the same thing, isn't it? Only difference is, unlike that crazy dorm supervisor, I can see Index just laughing, and Othi-chan making a disgusted remark. Kinda takes the risk out of it," Touma spoke, chuckling as he did so. Misaki laughed along with him as she visualized an amused Index and a disapproving Othinus.
"So? Whaddya say? I'm feeling way better than I did when I got home earlier, and I want to make it up to you now. It's not that late – dinner can wait another… two or three hours?" Touma asked as he ran his fingers through his wife's long, honey-scented blonde locks.
"Two or three hours?" Misaki responded, feigning bewilderment. "Just how much maintenance do you require, my prince?"
"A fair bit, you beautiful, beautiful woman. God, you're beautiful. Just let me, let me look at you for a few seconds, here. Wow. I'unno, I… wow, you're so beautiful." As Touma looked up at his wife, a warm, and welcome feeling overtook him. He continued to play with her hair, but Touma's mind wandered aimlessly. "How was I… I'd go as far as to say 'blessed' to have this woman as my wife? To have this woman support me since we were teenagers? She stood by my side during conflicts that she didn't even have to involve herself in, she just… did. This gorgeous, kind-hearted, intelligent woman decided to share her life with… with me. Who am I? I'm just Kamijou Touma. She loves me, and, God, I love her too."
Touma raised his left hand to Misaki's face, and caressed one of her blushing cheeks. "Actually, maybe we could just stay like this?" Touma inquired.
Misaki snuggled closer to Touma's body, and rested her head on his chest. Her husband's hands remained in her own, their fingers interlocked. Misaki felt Touma's heartbeat; it brought a great wave of relaxation that washed over her. When Kamijou Misaki had Kamijou Touma all to herself, she could let go of the physical world, and enter her paradise – a realm in which no darkness, nor fear, nor anger could tread.
"I would love for us to stay like this. This is just as good as making love. If we could spend the rest of our life together like this, in one another's arms, speaking, and laughing… being two people who have found comfort in one another, I would love nothing more." Misaki said, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her eyes had closed, and her breathing had slowed.
"Misaki? Have I told you that I love you today? Just in case I didn't; I love you."
Butterflies fluttered every which way in the young woman's stomach as Misaki's content, peaceful smile widened. "Kamijou Touma, you do not need to tell me that you love me. You show me how much you love me, just by being yourself when you are with me. You are so kind and fair; you are such a prince. You have a heart of gold that beats in your chest. Kamijou Touma, you are the great husband a woman could ever ask for. You are a dream come true."
"Many times, but I never want you to stop telling me that you do. When you tell me that you love me, and when you say such nice things to me, and do such lovely things for me… Touma, I only fall deeper and deeper in love with you. I love you too, Kamijou Touma. I adore you. I worship your existence, my prince."
As the soul mates had predicted earlier in their exchange, Index, who had Othinus perched on the top of her head, had heard the last few minutes of their conversation; the nun had originally emerged from her cave to seek food, but she found herself unable to even think about interrupting her guardians. Their display had nearly brought Index to tears; not because she was jealous, or disheartened, but because she was overcome with happiness. Othinus, on the other hand, was less impressed.
"Crude, savage mortals…" the former Magic God complained. She placed one tiny leg elegantly over the other, and crossed her arms with a "humph".
"Oh, hush." Index chastised. "We'll give them a few more minutes. I have a bag of chips somewhere in my room; that's pretty much a banquet for you!" The nun offered as she quietly stepped back into her private abode, softly closing the door behind her. Othinus groaned, but didn't object.
October 8th, 2014. 6:45 PM.
Yamashita Junichi and Misaka Worst, after hours of searching, had found suitable targets – a group of wandering Ojou-Samas, who wore the uniform of Tokiwadai Middle School. Though PRANK's core – and only members kept their distance, the trio of unfortunate Ojou-Samas had been thoroughly analyzed, at least on a physical level. The first was rather tall, and particularly skinny – Junichi momentarily wondered if the girl had starved herself to achieve her looks. She had fluffy, golden hair that fell to her shoulders, and a pair of knee-high black socks. The second was shorter, and looked to have more meat on her bones. She had long, luscious brown hair, and a white and lime green purse slung over her shoulder. The third was taller than the first, had jet black hair that was tied into a ponytail, and wore white legwarmers.
"How will Misaka and her minion go about this? Maybe Misaka will destroy their phones with her ability!" Worst cackled, as electricity crackled around her body. "Or… we could get started with a bang, once we get away from all these people." Junichi suggested, motioning to the herds of people that walked by, behind, and adjacent to them.
"When we first set out on this quest, I thought someone might concern themselves a little bit too much about our appearances. The "uniforms" you picked out are far from inconspicuous, but, so far, so good." The pyrokinesist stated.
"Misaka knows what she's doing, minion." Worst said, an air of confidence in her voice. She crossed her arms beneath her bosom, with her head held high in a dignified manner. "Maybe we'll just get all of these people. Misaka thinks you have enough coffee to pull it off."
Junichi shook his head in disagreement. "Nah, too much heat. Trust me on this; doesn't matter who we get, or how we get them. What matters is getting them in a secluded place. Yeah, it'd be really funny to soak these trust fund princesses, but, there's a good chance they won't stray far from the crowd."
"Misaka's at least going to fuck with them a little bit, then," Worst proclaimed. The sick-minded clone of Misaka Mikoto extended her hand, and electricity jumped from her body as she used her ability to mess with the guts of the smartphone belonging to the blonde-haired Tokiwadai student.
"Ah! My phone… turned off?!" Worst and Junichi heard the blonde angrily exclaim. They saw the heads of the blonde student's friends look to her. The blonde student handed the device off to her brown-haired companion as she threw her arms into the air in frustration. Worst snickered as she wrung her hands, and Junichi produced a singular approving chuckle. "Misaka's not satisfied yet, minion. Let's go all-out. Misaka can get us out quick, don't forget," Worst said, prodding her subordinate.
"Let's give it a minute, see what they do."
For some time, Yamashita Junichi and Misaka Worst continue to trail their targets. The Ojou-Samas continued to walk in a straight line, never turning, never breaking step for even so much as a moment. Worst contemplated zapping them to the point of unconsciousness, so frustrated had she become, but she held back – PRANK would have their time to shine.
Eventually, fate pitied PRANK, and the Ojou-Samas finally made a right turn at a set of lights. Though they didn't turn down a deserted alleyway, or into a sparsely populated store or café, as PRANK turned the corner with them, they realized their fortune – the side street they found themselves on wasn't nearly as populated as the main street they had been previously walking down.
Junichi removed his backpack, and began to fiddle with the zipper. Worst acted as his eyes while he focused on producing his Mega Soaker 6800. Junichi looked from right to left, just as his fingers fell upon the butt of the weapon of mass destruction. He dug deeper, and gripped the trigger with his index finger. Again, he examined his surroundings. "People are going to see, but that's just the way it's going to have to be. I guess, in a way, it's a positive thing; the more people who know about PRANK, the better! Y'know, we're both way too old for this…"
Junichi produced the weapon, gripped it with both hands, and aimed at the trio of Ojou-Samas who were now only ten or so feet away from them. Without hesitation, and with one or two second thoughts, the pyrokinesist's index finger squeezed the trigger.
"That guy's got a gun! RUN! Somebody stop him, call Anti Skill, call Judgment!" A disembodied voice proclaimed from the other side of the street; Junichi paid it no mind. It only served to further his plans – he and Worst's victims turned around, likely in an attempt to pinpoint the source of the proclamation, and were hit head-on.
From the barrel of the weapon, a stream of sticky, dark liquid was forcefully sprayed at incredible speeds. It arced through the air and, as Junichi and Worst looked on wide-eyed, the stream hit its first target without issue. The shocked and thoroughly displeased blonde Ojou-Sama shrieked in terror. Not one to miss an opportunity, the laughing pyrokinesist waved the weapon wildly, soaking the blonde's companions, who joined their fellow victim to form a chorus of angered, disgusted complaints.
Confused bystanders watched on, some producing their phones, presumably to record the incident or perhaps to contact Anti Skill or Judgment. A group of young men, clad in what looked like lower class high school uniforms – white, collared shirts and dark pants began to rush towards PRANK. Their heroic siege soon came to a grinding halt, however. Worst stomped the ground with her foot, and produced a torrent of crackling blue lightning that circled around her form. "Don't be heroes; Misaka has seen what happens to heroes," Worst cryptically warned.
"W-whoa there, l-lady… we're all low levels! I'm a level zero, and these guys are only level ones! P-please don't h-hurt anyone?" One of the young men pleaded. The uneasiness in his voice made Worst shiver with pleasure. "Misaka and her goon aren't hurting anyone. It's just a PRANK!" Worst said, emphasizing the last word in her proclamation. The young men, hesitantly at first, backed away, and then proceeded to run in the opposite direction, their heads hung in shame.
"Ugh! What the actual FUCK?!" The blonde exclaimed; she sounded livid, and rightfully so. Her Tokiwadai uniform had been completely ruined, stained with the dark substance fired from the older man's water gun. "Seriously! What were you even thinking?!" The blonde's brown-haired companion furiously chastised.
"You just got PRANKed!" Junichi exclaimed, continuing to spray the Mega Soaker 6800's payload at the girls, two of whom ran in all directions, shrieking like banshees, arms flailing as they attempted to escape. The blonde stood defiant, her arms crossed, even as she was continually sprayed with coffee. Her brow had furrowed, and her lips had curled into a scowl.
"Do you have any idea how much this uniform is worth?!" The blonde screeched, panting, as her eyes became bloodshot.
"I don't, sweetheart! How much did your parents pay for it?" Junichi rhetorically asked, sarcasm evident in his tone of voice. Worst cackled loudly behind him; she gripped her right hip, clearly in pain to some extent or another. Tears rolled down the malevolent clone's face.
Wordlessly, the girl gripped her phone, which appeared to be in working condition, and fired it at the duo; it became a blur as it was ejected from her grip. "Aero Hand! Worst, dip! She's going to…"
Junichi found himself instinctively moving aside, and, Worst, still laughing hysterically, was hit square in the forehead with the large, white device. It bounced against her skull with an audible thud. Worst rubbed her head, but continued to cackle. "You thought that would actually hurt Misaka?! Ha! You're more pathetic than you look, little girl!" Worst exclaimed, finger pointed mockingly at the blonde. Worst's act of arrogance only served to enrage the girl even further. The blonde's friends had taken to her side, and seemed to be trying to persuade her to leave with them.
"Come on, Fujiwara-san… they're not worth your time or frustration." The black-haired girl comfortingly said, her hands on her blonde friend's shoulder.
"You're always so passive, Ikina-san! It's so annoying! You've got to stand up for yourself, sometimes!" The brown-haired girl shot back, glaring at Ikina. "Fujiwara-san and I are going to show these losers what it means to dangle with Tokiwadai girls. No more running from bullies."
"Makioka-san's right, Ikina-san. Go if you want to; we're settling this, here and now." Fujiwara growled.
As if on command, Ikina turned tail and fled, leaving Fujiwara and Makioka to face the forces of PRANK. The last of the coffee in Junichi's Mega Soaker 6800 had been expunged; the pyrokinesist continued to move about, struggling to refuel his weapon as he did so.
"I don't see anything else in that backpack; just that weird gun, and another can of coffee. We can handle this," Makioka commented to her ally. Fujiwara gave a nod of affirmation, and ran towards a nearby bench. Her original intentions were to touch the outdoor decoration, use her ability to eject it towards the male prankster, and then deal with the woman, but, said woman had obviously thought ahead. "You thought Misaka would let you get near this? You thought wrong. Misaka's way ahead of you."
Fujiwara raised an eyebrow, and placed her hands on her hips. "You talk weird. Are you one of those Sisters?" She pried. Worst chuckled, and crossed her arms beneath her bosom, and tossed her chestnut brown bangs to one side. "Misaka is related, yes, but Misaka was created for a different purpose; nothing you need to know about. Misaka takes it that you aren't fond of her PRANK?"
"Not one bit," Fujiwara said angrily, drawing each out word through clenched teeth. The Aero Hand user's legs were nearly shaking. "I've had a bad enough of a day as it is, and now this happens?! You don't just… do something like this to someone!" She exclaimed.
"Misaka enjoys your suffering, but she doesn't want to fight with you and stir up trouble – or maybe Misaka does. If she stirs up enough trouble, Misaka might just get a spanking! Misaka suggests that you back off, or Misaka's going to have to get nasty with you."
Perhaps, if Worst had tried to settle their disagreement in any other way, things may have just turned out differently. But Misaka Worst was Misaka Worst, and so she didn't. Fujiwara charged, ready to knock her new opponent out of the way, if need be, so that she could have her chance at a reprisal. To her surprise, the strangely speaking clone before her casually stepped aside. "Fine, you can pelt Misaka's minion. It'll be funny; but don't try that shit with Misaka."
Junichi anxiously poured the last of his second can of coffee into the Mega Soaker 6800, and made sure to put the empty can in his backpack, as not to give the Aero Hand user ammunition. He aimed his weapon, looking down the sight as his once-victim, now a foe, circled him.
"You and your friend, Fuji… something or other, are made of sturdy stuff. Surprising, for Tokiwadai trust fund babies," Junichi taunted; the pyrokinesist had learned a thing or two from Worst, over the years. "Clairvoyant, I assume?"
"Correct," Makioka responded. "You're clearly not a criminal, so why are you doing this? Just for the joy of messing with people? You're, like, ten years older than us. Don't you have anything better to do? At all?"
"Nope. Not at the moment," Junichi retorted, before he pressed down on the trigger of his weapon; a stream of black coffee was fired from the Mega Soaker 6800's barrel, and Makioka was either not athletic enough, or too preoccupied with developing a battle strategy or some other nonsense to try and duck or dodge – the blast hit her square in the face. Makioka reeled back, spitting and coughing, hands swatting madly in the air. Hordes of interested onlookers, who had likely been attracted from the main street, had gathered around the spectacle. "I could turn my weapon on them, too, and then PRANK would really get noticed, but if someone calls Anti Skill or Judgment, Worst and I would be in even deeper shit. Oh well; it's not like we're hurting people, just messing with them."
The pyrokinesist turned his attention to the crowd behind him, and they immediately attempted to disperse; it was an ineffective tactic. There were too many people crammed into a single area, and as chaos began to ensue, students became much easier targets to pick off. Junichi hit the front row with a stream of black coffee, turned his attention back to Makioka for a moment, and then back to the crowd once more. Caught up in the glory of the moment, Junichi never saw the bench turned aerial projectile headed straight for him.
There was a loud crash, and a grunt of pain from Yamashita Junichi, who now found himself beneath a surprisingly light metallic bench. His Mega Soaker 6800 has fallen from his grasp, and laid far out of his reach. The crowd, who he had been tormenting not moments ago became his tormentors, as did his turncoat of a partner, Worst, who all laughed heartily at his ill fortune.
"Have anything to say for yourself?" Fujiwara inquired. She approached the fallen pyrokinesist, stopped once she was mere inches away from him, and loomed over him triumphantly. She was soon joined by Makioka, who too glared down at Junichi.
"I regret nothing. PRANK lives on," Junichi grumbled as he pushed the bench away from him. "Did you get past my evil sidekick, or did you somehow convince her to betray me?" The pyrokinesist inquired. "Misaka laughs at your predicament. HA! Misaka conspired against you," Worst responded with a malevolent giggle.
"I should shoot you off into the distance for what you've done." Fujiwara commented. "But I'm instead going to give you a chance to learn your lesson."
"Yeah, whatever you say, sensei." Junichi snapped as he rose up from the ground with a groan. Though the bench that had been hurled at him hadn't weighed all that much, it had done enough damage; the speed it travelled upon being ejected by Fujiwara's Aero Hand had ensured that it packed a considerable punch, and the pyrokinesist was already feeling the effects.
Fujiwara turned her back to her fallen foe, and motioned for her friend to follow. Makioka gave the pyrokinesist one last glare before she obediently followed.
The pyrokinesist turned his attention to the ever-growing crowd. "Show's over, guys. You can all go home, now!" Junichi exclaimed, having gotten to his feet. Worst took to Junichi's side, and slung his arm over her shoulder. "Misaka has two cripples to take care of, now. Joy!" The clone said sarcastically.
"Show's over"? You sprayed us too, asshole!" a gruff, male voice from the crowd shouted angrily. Junichi couldn't pinpoint which individual it was, there were so many of them that singling someone out would be a grand feat, but Junichi could tell that it wasn't someone in the front row.
"Yeah! Fuck you, pal!" Another voice, this time belonging to either a female or a male with a very high pitched voice added. The crowd was beginning to grow angry, and both Junichi and Worst could hear frustrated, disapproving murmuring coming from within the sea of onlookers, though only one of the two found themselves concerned by it.
"Misaka's got this. Don't fret, useless minion! Hold your breath!" Worst exclaimed. She gripped the pyrokinesist's hand tightly, ensuring that it would cause him discomfort, at the least, and, using one of many weapons in the arsenal of her unique variation of the Radio Noise ability, Worst proceeded to detonate the oxygen around their bodies; the sheer force of the detonation propelled her, and by extension, her suddenly nauseous minion well over the slowly destabilizing crowd. They looked on in awe as she repeated this technique again and again, ensuring that she and her flailing subordinate would remain in the air for some time. The legacy of PRANK began then and there.