Me after writing the First Chapter: Haha well that was fun I hope we see a trailer for Joker soon. Time to write some Drakengard.
Me 24 hours later: Wait, people want a continuation what.
So, here we are. Mild spoilers for Persona 5 below. There's nothing heavily plot relevant, but it does mention game mechanics and certain key themes.
This is Bob.
He's a mobster underling, likes beige suits and doesn't have a last name.
He has also sustained severe damage to his skull, multiple fractured ribs and is currently dying of blood loss.
How did this happen, you ask? Let's go back a few hours.
The night was young and the city streets were bright. Bob and his friend Frank, dressed in matching suits and hats, sat beneath a low light, eyed the cards in hands. Beside them glasses were half-filled with alcohol.
Bob hummed to himself, rubbing his pointed chin. The skin on his face was blotched red, an unfortunate aftertaste from his adolescent days. Above him, a fly buzzed in circles beneath the ceiling lamp.
He sighed and laid his cards on the table. "Three kings." He said.
Frank laid his own. "Four queens." He said, with the smile of the victor.
Bob shook his head and shoved his pile of plastic chips across the beaten tabletop. "Fuck this game." He groaned. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit a fresh cigarette. He inhaled and exhaled, savouring the familiar sting of the nicotine. His friend looked at him with sympathy.
"Rough day, Bob?" He asked.
"No shit, Frank." Bob said, slumping in his seat. "First I get called in at four in the fucking morning to hunt down some druggie, then the boss's right hand gets all uppity about those intruders sneaking around the joint. Spent an entire morning and afternoon on guard duty. It makes me wanna rip my damn hat in half."
For Bob to consider damaging his precious headwear, even out of rage, he must be truly frustrated. Frank ran a hand through his bleached hair and spoke. "I hear you mate. I've been doing back-to-back overnight shifts. Hardly get time to spend with the missus."
Bob rubbed tired eyes. He puffed on his cigarette, sending acrid smoke towards the top of the game room. "The sooner we bag those damn intruders the better."
"Speaking of which, have you seen the right hand lately?" Frank asked.
"Search me."
"Wanna play another round?"
Bob shook his head and downed the remains of his drink. "Let's go to the bar instead."
Shrugging, Frank made to pack up the poker set. Together, the two men dusted off the table, placed away the glasses and switched off the light. They
They didn't get far before one of their fellows ran up to them, gasping for breath.
"Bob, Frank!" He cried. "The intruders have arrived! Everyone in the floors below us was taken out!"
Considering that Bob was standing on the 10th floor, this was pretty disastrous news. Both men were so shocked that their tongues froze in their mouths.
"We need to fortify this place, now!" The fellow continued.
There was no time to waste. Bob, Frank and the rest of the underlings on the floor scrambled for their weapons, built makeshift barriers out of furniture and dug themselves into wait. The fortifications were divided into individual groups, each one with a sizable amount of firepower and means of communications via secured radio.
Would it be enough to stop these mysterious intruders, who had been once been a thorn in the side of the organization and were now approaching terminal cancer status? A gut feeling inside Bob said no.
His profession had always been a risky one. But as he had risen through the ranks of the organization, a haze of legwork and alcohol-intensive parties, the risk had begun to fade into the back of his mind. Now it had slammed back with full force, a devil whispering inevitability into his ear.
"Don't worry, Bob!" Frank said, as he reloaded a six-shot pistol and spun the barrel. "We'll be fine. We'll shoot the shit out of those damn intruders and go home. Man, what a story this'll be for the missus!"
Frank's brown eyes were bulging. His voice was quaking. The guy was half a decade younger than Bob, with a family to boot. They had worked together for quite some time. If there was any one of them shitstains that deserved to walk out here alive, Bob would nominate Frank. In this situation, however, there was nothing he could do put a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Yeah, we will." He said, as he tried to keep his voice steady.
A manic smile was all he received in response.
An uneasy calm fell over the floor's occupants. Nothing to do except follow protocol.. Check the weapons, remember the exit routes and listen to his comrades over the radio. Repeat.
Somewhere in the distance, the elevator chimed. The faint sound of steel doors hissing open could be heard.
"They're here, they're here!" Frank moaned. "Oh man, oh man…"
Bob's grip tightened on his own gun. He placed his back against the table serving as a wall and lifted up his radio.
"This is Team Delta. What's your status?" He said.
"This is Team Alpha. We're heading to the elevator now." There was the shuffling of bootsteps, then a brief pause. "Strange, I can't see anyone. The place here is empty."
And then, immediately afterwards:
"Wait, I think I see something in the shadows. Oh. Oh shit. Oh shit oh fuck fuck—"
A sound like a miniature tornado blasted through the radio's speakers. A hiss of static and Team Alpha fell silent. Fear bloomed through Bob's system like a bloody flower. He switched to the other teams. He wanted affirmation and safety.
He proceeded to receive neither.
"This is Team Beta. Requesting backup! Requesting urgent backup! No, not the face—!"
"My eyes! They've got my eyes! Aaaah!"
"It burns! It burns!"
"Please don't kill me! Is it money you want? I'll give you money!" said a desperate member of Team Alpha. "I, um, don't have any cash on me. Can I write you guys a check?"
"No." said a cold voice.
"…well, I tried."
A hail of gunfire followed the response. The radio dropped from Bob's hands and he didn't bother to pick it back up.
"We're gonna die. We're gonna fucking die…" Frank gibbered, practically on the verge of hyperventilation. "God, why didn't I take sick leave today?" he sobbed.
The silence that followed was stretched to breaking point. Bob slumped against his makeshift barricade, torn between contemplating his life and attempting to remember all the lessons from his time in the shooting range. He didn't think he sweated more in his entire life. Frank had raised his gun to his head, but at the last second had thought better of it. He now was hiding his head in his arms, trying not let Bob hear him cry.
Footsteps approached. Rapid ones. Bob had just a second to tense himself up, lift his gun and shout a warning before his barricade exploded inwards. He flew backwards, tumbling on the ground into a painful mess. Upon slowing, he was promptly kicked in the face by a black, leather boot.
There they were. The intruders. A boy in a black cloak and a masquerade mask, accompanied by seven others. Joker, Mona, Skull, Panther, Fox, Queen, Oracle and Noir, so the intel went.
Joke, the leader, and Bob locked eyes. In that moment, Bob felt like absolute trash. The boy in front of him was young, cocksure and had surrounded himself with power. Bob, on the other hand, was alone with a defeatist and had a shitty little pistol as a weapon.
That feeling was swiftly replaced by red-hot anger. How dare they? How dare these thieves break into his organization's stronghold, mess everything up and ruin his entire life. It drove his body, filled it with desperate energy. He dropped into a stance and pointed his handgun straight Joker.
"Get on the ground, you bastards!" He shouted, "Or I'll—"
That was as far as he got before Noir's axe smashed clean through his skull. Fragments of bone and brain burst out in a gory firework and scattered in all directions. If one observed closely, they would have found a glint of elation within Noir's eyes.
"Bob!" Frank screamed in terror. His face then contorted into one of murderous rage. Standing up, his body flared with an unearthly energy. He charged forward to the woman who killed his best friend. "You fucking monster, I'll—"
"Johanna!" Queen shouted.
She ran Frank over with her Persona and that was the end of that.
"Head straight for the treasure!" Joker yelled, as he and the rest of the Phantom Thieves ran past the fallen bodies. "No looking back!"
That is how Bob ended up the way he is now. The hallway is silent, save for the faint trickling of blood coming from the bodies. Can you recognize Bob or Frank? It is commendable if you can. The damage dealt to them has rendered their faces into meat pulp.
Now, can the Phantom Thieves be blamed for this sociopathic, uncaring behaviour? Perhaps, if Bob and Frank were humans. But, they aren't. They are Shadows.
There is much that can be said about Shadows, such as the fact they are suppressed human emotions given form. Through their lives, the Phantom Thieves have gotten very experienced at defeating Shadows. In fact, they have slain so many that it could be classified as minor genocide.
Given that humans can be the cruellest creatures on planet Earth, it is understandable why most would consider Shadows to be a major threat to humanity. Thus, when a Shadows die, humanity as a whole rejoices.
Let us send Bob and Frank off with the knowledge that their suffering has benefited humanity as a whole, mostly because the experience given to Joker will allow his current Persona to learn a new skill.
(Isn't it sad, Shadows?)
Mario groaned as he placed his plate of carbonara on the cafeteria table in the Smash Mansion cafeteria. He collapsed into his chair, eyes staring unfocusedly for a moment before getting his cutlery. His brother stared at him from across the cafeteria table, expression full of sympathy.
"Rough day, bro?" Luigi said.
Mario nodded and began to feed himself his pasta. Roll the noodles, dip the sauce, insert into the mouth, rinse and repeat. His movements could've given R.O.B a run for its money with how stiff and mechanical they were. An ungroomed mustache and dark spots beneath the eyelids indicated a damning lack of sleep.
Elsewhere in the room, a pair of commentators shouted from within a large, plasma television screen.
"And now, Amsa grabs Leffen by the shirt and throws him into the air. He jumps lands a perfect up-air and OH MY GOD LEFFEN IS SENT FLYING OFF THE STAGE AND THAT'S THE LAST STOCK OF THE SET—"
Super Human Comrades was a favourite sports program among the Smash Mansion, with its fast-paced matches and quality drama among the top contestants. Normally Mario would extend an ear, but right now his brain was pounding too much.
"Bro, do you want to see the doc?" Luigi asked, looking more concerned. "Because if you're feeling sick, I'll take you there—"
"No, I'm fine." Mario finally groaned. He downed a gulp of juice before speaking again. "I'm just very tired."
"About the whole tax fraud thing." Luigi stated.
Mario shook his head in exasperation. "Mamma mia, I never want to hear a word about that for the next few months."
Luigi had only heard about the card prank box incident through word of mouth. He knew what had gone down in the living room from Lucina, but as for what happened afterwards…
"That bad?" He asked, cautious.
"It's just been one big mess after the other." Mario admitted. He gulped down another mouthful of pasta and launched into an explanation.
After all the Smashers in the living room had calmed down, they had decided to clean up the room together, lest they face the wrath of Peach and the rest of the cleaning staff. Some, like Falco, had grumbled about the chore, but overall it had gone smoothly. That had been the easy part.
It hadn't taken long for a copy for those calling cards to be uploaded to the mansion's Ethernet network. The rumor of one of the Smashers being guilty of tax fraud had spread through the mansion like wildfire. Fingers of all species and sized were being pointed in all directions.
The so-called villains of the roster had been put under a particular large spotlight, much to their displeasure (and to the lack of surprise from everyone else). Bowser had ranted and roared while Ganondorf had scoffed. Wario had merely picked his nose and pranced off to his hideout, leaving behind several pungent farts in his wake. Wolf, in an attempt to deflect the criticism against him, had ironically tried Falco's method. He cornered Isabelle and the Villager had responded by shoving a cactus up his butt.
Several disagreements between fellow Smashers had also piggybacked off the controversy and made verbal. Now, the new Final Destination was booked to the limits, sending the maintenance staff into a tizzy.
And this would've been all fine. The Smashers were a rowdy bunch and Mario knew it. Incidents like this happened at least once a month. He could have waited out the mess, perhaps even spitballing about it over dinner with the others.
And then some utter, fucking moron had leaked the incident to the press. Things had swiftly gone downhill from there.
As one of the original Eight, as well as one of the faces of the entire Super Smash Brothers tournament, Mario was expected to handle public relations. Nothing in his life had prepared him so such a role, but it had to happen anyway.
Unfortunately, this meant he had to park himself in a conference room, listen to the many questions of the journalists and respond in turn. He rested his hand on his brow, closed his eyes and sighed. Even now, he could hear their jeering calls.
"Mister Mario Mario! Is it true that the Super Smash Brothers organization is guilty of tax fraud?"
"Any words onto the allegations that several members are secretly building up a terrorist organization?"
"Who are these mysterious Phantom Thieves?"
"Is it true that your longtime friend Geno will be joining the roster as a secret fighter?"
"Can I shake your hand? Don't worry, I washed it three days ago!"
He teeth gritted. Vultures and crows, the lot of them! Was there no end to how fast their rumor mill could grind? It wasn't the first time he had been involved in a grilling from the public, but it didn't quell the temptations of throwing Cappy onto one of those sneering reporters and having them jump into the traffic!
As for those Phantom Thieves, if they were real…well, he wanted to introduce himself to them. Along with Mr. Left Fist and Mrs. Right Fist.
"Currently the main suspects are the villains, any of the royals, Snake, Isabelle and Captain Falcon." Mario explained. "None of them are talking and I'm not the man to make them."
"What did Master Hand have to say?" Luigi said, leaning further in his seat, curious.
"He actually quite calm about it." Mario said. This was the truth, even though every word from the floating hand always seemed to come from an invisible megaphone. "He told everyone not to worry and then said he had further business to conduct. The press conference ended from there."
"Is that so…"
"Master Hand works in mysterious ways. Whatever. I'm not going to ask him."
The two brothers continued to eat their meals in silence. Despite being dog-tired, Mario could still appreciate the cafeteria's food. With every bite of the delicious pasta, he could feel a bit of his strength returning. Half a plate later and he found himself able to engage himself in the usual atmosphere.
At the other side of the cafeteria, near the serving tables, Mario heard Fox groan and slam something down on the table. A quick look at the television confirmed it. The Japanese man known as Amsa had won the championship in a surprising upset. The long-established betting pool metagame was fracturing by the second. It has hard not to grin. Maybe he should pitch in a few coins next time.
"Hey bro." Luigi said, once their meals were over.
"Yeah?"
"Wanna go and see a movie in town later?" Luigi asked. "I heard from Fox they've got a pretty decent lineup this time."
Mario leaned back in his seat and sighed. "I dunno, Luigi, I'm probably gonna be busy…"
"C'mon, bro. It's only for a night. No-one's gonna blame you if you want to relax." Luigi pushed. He wouldn't do this for most—partly because he was timid at heart—but this was his brother he was talking about.
Temptation and duty battled themselves within Mario's thoughts. Then he realized that his duty was utter bullshit and there were others who could pick up the slack. "…alright, I'm in. Let's invite Peach and Yoshi too."
"Nah, Yoshi said he can't come." Luigi replied.
"Eh? Why not?"
"Said he was busy. He didn't say much."
Mario hummed. "Must be Yoshi Island business. He is the ambassador, after all."
"Hey, imagine if Yoshi was the tax fraud thief." Luigi suggested, grinning.
Mario instantly let out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, imagine! Imagine him swindling the IRS and making away with bags of cash!"
The two brothers chortled together. Because, honestly, the notion was so ridiculous. Come on, this was Yoshi they were talking about. He was many things—the cute green dinosaur of the roster, the hero the hero who had saved the Mario Brothers as children, a lifelong steed and the representative of the Yoshi Islands—but as a criminal committing tax fraud and other nefarious deeds?
Seriously, the thought of it was too funny!
Elsewhere in the mansion, a confrontation was occurring.
"Y-Yoshi?"
"Hi, Isabelle! What are you doing here?" The green dinosaur chirped.
"I heard loud noises coming from your room, so I came over to check." The secretary responded. She cautiously pointed to a machine in the middle of Yoshi's den. It was blocky, steel-grey and vibrating at a rapid pace. "What's that?"
"Oh, this? It's a shredder." The green dinosaur said, happily.
"I don't think I've seen a shredder like this before." Isabelle said.
"It's really good at what it does!"
But why would Yoshi need a hyper-advanced paper shredder that turned its papers into fine sawdust, was the million dollar question. Yoshi answered with, "I did some papers wrong so I decided to get rid of them!"
"And you didn't want to borrow the one in the library?" Isabelle asked.
"Nope!" Yoshi said.
Yeah, this was suspicious. The instinct that served Isabelle so well throughout countless meetings was blaring hot red. Isabelle raised her paw and thought about saying something. Another question, a gentle accusation, it was going to be important.
As she looked into Yoshi's innocent eyes and his wide smile, she began to reconsider. She went over the words in her head and what she knew about Yoshi since her arrival to the roster. Ultimately, she decided against it.
So what if Yoshi was touchy about his paperwork? It wasn't harming anyone. All the Smashers had their unique quirks; Mario was plumber who could somehow knock around skulls like nobody's business, while she was a hyperactive secretary with a work ethic that left all other administrative personnel in the dust. It would be hypocritical to call him out.
Plus, it's not as if shredding papers was wrong. Some information simply wasn't fit to be heard by the public. It was hard to remember that Yoshi was actually a government official.
"Okay!" Isabelle said, cheering up. "It's up to you, Yoshi. Are you coming to lunch?"
"Nope! I still have some stuff to do. I'll be down shortly!"
Isabelle nodded and left Yoshi's room. The green dinosaur kept up the happy smile all the way until she closed the door and her footsteps faded away. He locked the door shut, turned to the paper shredder and scowled. It was a dark expression that contorted the lines on his face into ugly ridges and grooves. A single look would send a hardened thug into sudden urination.
He shoved more and more papers into the shredder with the intensity of a desperate man. There was a grim satisfaction as the words and ink were reduced to a pile of fine dusts and fibers. He then scooped it all up, stormed across the room and pressed a button beneath his desk. A panel in the wall slid open, revealing a hidden furnace. Down the dust went. The flames rose hungrily at the meal.
Yoshi sat down in a chair and opened a laptop. It was a present from one of his friends back on Yoshi Island. The fellow dinosaur didn't know much about technology, but the device looked fancy so he bought it for the Smasher. However, he, nor the other denizens of Yoshi Island, knew that the device would come to host some truly terrible secrets.
Yoshi keyed in a twelve-digit password, then opened an application marked only for special occasions. A powerful signal was sent out from the Smash Mansion, undetected by even the most technologically adept Smashers.
Across the multiverse, high-ranking criminals received a video message at the same time. A figure cloaked in the darkness appeared on the monitor, its eyes pinpricks of searing flame. Fear contorted in the stomachs of those who gazed upon it.
"Code red, we have a code red, people! Perform a security inspection this instant. Get rid of anything possibly incriminating to our collective activities! Fire anyone who might pose threat and if they resist, dump them in a grave! Plug all the holes in your security systems!" The figure barked. "Use all the resources you have for this; it takes first priority. None of you better screw this up. I know where all your families live!"
Deep within the collective unconsciousness, the ground trembled beneath Joker's feet. It wasn't nearly enough to topple him, but it was a sign that time was running out for the Phantom Thieves. The host of the Palace—the labyrinth representing their twisted desires—must be growing desperate back in the real world. The notion brought a spiteful sort of comfort to him.
Regardless, Joker did not panic. Oracle's intelligence gathering had been top-notch as usual. He knew that his team was nearing the end of the Palace. Other tell-tale signs were present. Contorted architecture, crumbling walls and an abundance of enemies. Text and pictures on signs were garbled beyond recognizability.
"Intruders! Intruders!" A pair of guards yelled, tearing off their masks and changing their form into Shadows. The team quickly blew past them and raced down the last stretch of corridor. Standing before them was the double doors leading to the Treasure Room. Joker halted in front of it and turned to face his team.
"The Palace host is ahead of us. This isn't the first time we've done this, but it won't do to get overconfident." He announced.
"Our opponent is also a member of the Original Eight. No matter what form he's taken, he likely won't go down easy." Queen added.
"Are you all ready?" Joker said.
There was a round of nods and determined smiles. Though they were a ragtag bunch, built from the outcasts of society, their shared trial had molded them into professionals at the peak of their expertise. Not a single hint of hesitation could be seen within them.
"Lead the way, Joker." Queen said, giving her own confident smile.
Joker grasped the oak handles and pushed open the double doors. A brilliant light shone through the gap. He took a breath, then stepped forward to confront the foe on the other side.
He was back in the trophy room. Portraits of the palace's host adorned the walls, depicting triumph. Glass cases containing valuables—jewellery, historical artifacts and even portions of dead animals-lined the polished floor on stands. Each one had a bronze plague. The presence of gold and silver in the décor was blinding. It was arguable if royalty possessed exhibitions this narcissistic.
Off to the side of room, there was a miniature bar and an entertainment room containing games. It looked well used; clearly the owner enjoyed coming here a lot. Most notable of all, the shimmering mass had disappeared. It its place was a steel door, secured by many locks, both electronic and manual.
The rest of the Phantom Thieves filed in. They spread out, covering their leader and positioning themselves in preparation for an enemy attack.
A set of clipped footsteps from the back of the room drew the Phantom Theives' attention. Their enemy approached. A green humanoid-esque dinosaur, dressed in a stylish matte-black suit, a matching trilby and shoes made from fine black leather. A jewel-encrusted watch was wrapped around his right wrist and he was chewing on a thick, brown cigar. Most of all, bottomless malice radiated from a pair of golden eyes. It was darkness within Yoshi's heart: Shadow Yoshi.
Shadow Yoshi blew out smoke from his reptilian mouth. "So, you have come." He said, every word dripping with disdain.
"I don't suppose you'll surrender?" Joker said, cocking his head, arms folded. "Makes it easier on all of us."
"Oh please. As if I would give myself in to a mere batch of thieves. Not when I have crushed many who have opposed me." Shadow Yoshi spat. Behind Joker, Skull hissed, his fists vibrating with a slightly crackle of energy. Noir watched in silence, yet her hand drifted to the hilt of her axe.
"I must admit, I am curious as to why the Phantom Thieves targeted me, of all people." Shadow Yoshi continued. "Are there not more nefarious Smashers? What of Ganondorf, the King of Evil? Or Ridley, captain of the Space Pirates, who slaughtered an entire species?"
"Oh, you are plenty nefarious and we have not ignored their deeds." Queen said. "But at least the villains you listed have the decency to not hide their real self from the public."
"As for who led us to you, let's just say we got a tip-off from a certain individuals." Joker added. If Shadow Yoshi knew who this person was, he didn't show it. "By the way, you still haven't answered our first question. Are you going to surrender or are we going to have to pry that Treasure behind you from your unconscious hands?"
"You dare speak to me like that?"
"Considering that we are better than you, yes." Joker responded.
Shadow Yoshi growled. He tossed his cigar aside and strode forward, hands clenching into fists. His expression twisted with barely-restrained, animalistic rage. "First you lot break into my hideout, slay my employees and cause hundreds of thousands in damage. Then, you have the gall to do this over and over again over the course of a fortnight! And now, you want to steal what is most precious to me?"
He slammed his foot on the ground. The contents within the glass cages rattled. Joker merely looked straight ahead, not drawing his gaze from the Shadow.
"Do you all realize the extent of the time and resources I built into constructing my organization? The amount of reparations I will need to invest to fix the damage you subhumans have done?" Shadow Yoshi roared.
"Oh, boo hoo, you have to pay all that back from your stolen taxes." Panther snapped. She spread her arms out, slowly and dramatically. "Gee, look at how much we care."
"I am not letting you take anything else from me. I earned that money from my own blood, sweat and tears!" Shadow Yoshi shouted. "Honestly, do you people know who the hell I am?"
"A fraud and a criminal." Fox scoffed.
"And a real bastard who thinks he can get away with everything." Skull growled.
"I never expected the one who saved the Mario Brothers as children to be a villain." Noir spat. "Much less someone with an ego so wretched that he is willing to step on the hopes and dreams of the innocent!"
"We did our own investigation, you know. You're guilty, no doubt about it." Oracle said. "The IRS might not be able to arrest you, but that's why we exist."
"Your distorted desires end here, Yoshi." Joker finished. He pointed a gloved finger at the Shadow. "We know them, you know them. You can confess to your crimes and become a better person, or you can resist and have us beat the truth out of you. What's your choice?"
Yoshi screamed. He threw his hat to the ground and pulled at his suit. Shreds of fabric flew everywhere. The Phantom Thieves watched, impassionedly.
Yoshi then began to laugh. At first, it was a small giggle. It soon grew to a chuckle. He tipped his head back and howled at the sky. His eyes shone and his mouth was gaping open to reveal jagged, unwashed teeth.
"I choose a third choice!" He shouted. Darkness swirled around him, thick and oily. The Phantom Thieves instantly tensed up. Their hands reached for their weapons. "I will send you all to a shallow grave!"
The torrent consumed him, sending wind and unfiltered energy rocketing everywhere. The Phantom Thieves were forced to shield themselves from the blast. When it settled, they were staring down at a monster.
It was a cross between a dragon and a tyrannosaurus rex. A hideous, gargantuan reptile, with scales thick as iron plates and teeth sharp as swords. Seven veined eyes glared down from its head. A harness was attached to its back, on which atop rode a skeleton coated in blood-red flame and rubies for eyes.
"A…A Kaiju?" Skull exclaimed.
"No, it's too small!" Fox responded.
The beast roared and swung its tail, knocking down several displays and shattering the glass. Then, its mouth curled into a grin. The skeleton atop its back raised its sword to the air. A green light shone around it, blinding them thieves. When it faded, the beast was gone.
"What!" Panther cried. "Where did he go?"
"He's still in this room!" Oracle called out. "Don't let your guard down, guys!"
At that very moment, hidden hatches and doors swung open. An army of security guards and mobsters rushed in, all of them armed to the teeth.
"You're surrounded!" One of the guards screamed. "Drop your weapons and get those hands behind your heads!"
"I am untouchable! I am the best! And I will not lose to you!" Shadow Yoshi's voice rang from the somewhere in the room. "Kiss your pathetic lives goodbye, Phantom Thieves!"
An ordinary person would've been reduced to tears and flung themselves on the floor. They likely would have begged for their lives, receiving nothing but bullets in response. Joker just smiled. He reached for the face and, with a powerful burst of energy, tore at the invisible mask there.
"Persona! Ravage them, Arsene!"
At its master's command, the smirking, masked gentleman thief in crimson and black burst from a flash of blue flame. It summoned a chain and Joker grabbed it with earnest. He swung it forward with all his might, knocking down the row of guards in front of them. The rest of the Phantom Thieves bellowed out a war cry and summoned their own Personas.
Shadow Yoshi bellowed out a roar cry, the guards charged forward and the Phantom Thieves rushed to match them.
The battle was now on…
Sorry this took so long. I wasn't satisfied with the first part with Bob and Frank so I had to rewrite it (mostly because it wasn't funny enough). It probably still isn't the best but I want to move things along already.
I also had to come up with an entire backstory for why Yoshi of all Smashers would be evil and commit tax fraud and stuff. The next chapter will probably go into that more.
As usual, feedback (especially in relation to my character writing) would be greatly appreciated. I probably also made some stupid spelling/grammar mistakes so if you point them out I'll fix them soon.