South Minnesota, right off of interstate 35. A tour bus sits in a parking lot, next to an unmarked white van.
The location didn't matter that much; it was one of those gas stations you'd see on the side of the road, one so generic that they don't even try for a name beyond "Gas" or "Fuel". One of those gas stations that might've spawned the entire thing about gas station sushi, or one that upholds the reputation of public restrooms.
The night sky is clear, free of things like clouds, or the moon, or even stars. It's a quiet night, almost still, had it not been for the flickering of the gas station lights.
Inside the bus, Jack Slash wakes up with a jolt.
In an instant, he's lashing out with an arm, the limb flailing out from his cot. Frantically searching, grasping out at every surface available. Where is it? He needs it. Now.
His wrist is caught. A smooth material grips him, stopping the erratic motions. Jack can feel each clawed digit press into his forearm, preventing him from finding what he needs.
Damn it Mannequin, now's not the time!
Before he can do more than sit up, something is dropped into his outstretched hand. A small notepad, attached to a pen. He looks over to the other member of the Nine, eyes widened in mania. His fellow mass murderer gently pats the pad into his hand, before releasing Jack's arm.
There's no time to waste. Snapping himself out of his shock, he brings the pad and pen close, and scribbles down a pair of words. After a brief moment, he writes a third word down, higher up on the page. He makes a mark, emphasizing just how important that modifier is to bringing what is likely his best idea yet to life.
His duty done, he hands the notepad back to Mannequin. As he takes it, Jack turns to look the other man right in the place where his eyes would normally be.
Don't lose it. the stare said.
Mannequin nods solemnly. Jack Slash turns back over, tucking himself in- a~nd he's out like a light.
Mimi entered the tour bus, holding a bag full of cheap drinks and cheap snacks.
Well, the food was very pricey, considering the quality and amount you'd get from any given chip bag, but the cashier gave her a pretty big (Read: total) discount once he realized who she was.
Sure, now the public knew where the Nine were, but considering all one had to do was look in the windows of the tour bus to see Crawler's hulking form, that wasn't exactly a big deal. Hoisting the bag onto a nearby table, she peeked through the window, towards the gas station.
Inside the building, a wave of fire slowly began to show up through the windows, with the cashier from earlier attempting to fight off the flames.
Hmm, maybe she should get the bus back on the road before the fire gets too close- she was the only driver awake right now, after all. It wouldn't do to lose herself now of all times.
With a sigh, she turned towards the front of the bus- Shit!
Mannequin, don't do that!
The ceramic cyborg had silently placed himself right next to the young woman, slightly out of her peripheral vision. Mimi could practically feel her damned soul leap out of her body at the unexpected sight.
Alan had a hand outstretched, although it took Mimi a moment to calm herself down before noticing it, or, for that matter, the pen and notepad in said hand. What the hell is this all about?
Eyeing up Mannequin, she took the pad and glanced over it. The light from the burning gas station illuminated the words on the page, but it didn't exactly explain anything.
What the hell was an "Evil Tournament Arc"? Wouldn't that just be a normal tournament? And why was 'Evil' underlined like 5 times? Her confusion plain on her face, the arsonist looked back up at the tinker. Her fellow Nine member shrugged, and pointed a white hand further back down the bus.
…Ah, that was Jack's bed. Figures that he'd come up with an idea like this.
With a huff, she tossed the notepad onto the table with the snacks, and made her way up to the driver's seat. She had questions, but she wouldn't be getting any answers just yet.
In the dark of night, a tour bus and an unmarked van pulled out of a parking lot, moments before a fire truck drove up to a flaming gas station.