CLOSED SIGNUPS ✩ MAGIA: No Pension for Former Magical Girls?! ✩ (IC)

[Fyrra]

As Luna strode toward the scene of the impact, she took a moment to inspect the cracked wall. There wasn't just a visible imprint, but a crack to go along with it, and several flecks of something brown on the floor. She knelt down to get a closer look, closed her eyes, and took a long sniff. Despite the warehouse reeking of cardboard, the smell of magic was still in the air, along with a more unexpected detail.

"That's blood," the girl observed in a dull tone.

"Brilliant work, detective, Next you'll be telling us this is related to the case," a squeaky voice replied, causing a little bit of a stir in Luna's posture. She suddenly had a chinchilla on her shoulder, and only seemed to respond with a bewildered facial expression and hand gestures, to which the the familiar continued, "Precinct assigned you a new partner. Somebody's gotta watch yer tail."

"Could you not, right now? We haven't even-"

Luna's frustration couldn't even be conveyed without getting interrupted by the sudden appearance of... the two girls that were just whisked away by the operators? Huh. They really weren't gone long, and that fact by itself rubbed all of the salt into Luna's regrets about getting involved with the confrontation. The new familiar wasted no time honing in on that.

"You're a loose cannon, Valya! Somebody could have been hurt back there!" - Luna swiped at the rodent, who quickly darted to the other shoulder, before giving up and resigning herself to having an obnoxious passenger perched on her shoulder. She had more important things demanding her attention, and not nearly enough time to address all of them. Mandy and the other girl, the one with the cool fantasy name, the cheery friendly one with the bow, were standing by with a new objective and an even worse deadpan than Luna had in her tones.

"Hotdog... King?" The pale girl clearly had trouble keeping up with developments. One of the pair said this person was somebody that needed help, and the other said he was scheduled for execution. Luna glanced between the two, hesitant to get caught up in something that she lacked context for. "I mean, sure. In the few minutes you've been gone we've found... this. No body yet, no trail, interruptions. You're sure this Eric guy's responsible?"

"Warehouse, retail. It's plausible that the fight taking place here would mean culprit could be connected to the company," the shoulder-rodent suggested. "Why not see if the computers are still running? We might be able to find an address... or you can use that nose of yours, if it isn't just for show."

Luna briefly turned her face in the chinchilla's direction, considering hurling her new familiar into the wall, before returning her attention to Altair and Mandy, more concerned with their well-being. "Are you two okay though?"

 

[PavellumPendulum]

It hadn't been long since both Altair and Mandy had been taken from them, but the two of them both looked as though they'd gone through something that none of the rest of them could understand. Before another word could have left Bibi's mouth, the two woman had materialized out of thin air right above Stormweaver, but neither collapses into her, either using their magic or reflexes to deftly integrate themselves into the conversation... With topics that Bibi struggled to immediately latch onto. "... Him?" she echoed flatly, a frown on her face as she gazed upon Altair's strangely vacant eyes, mirrored in Heather's. Altair was most definitely peppier on most occasions, Mandy more of a loose cannon, but the two of them had been subdued in a way that Bibi could only assume had been painful. "... Altair?"

All familiars wasted no time chiding or getting on the nerves of their magical girls, it seemed, and Bibi grunted quietly, before pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, forcing her eyes shut. Her brain was full of unpleasant radio static, but if she sifted through them, she could find that familiar feeling of expansion, of waves being set loose, couldn't she? The warmth of other consciousnesses, the feeling of fullness when synapses fired out into invisible air highways. She sent the thought forward, hoping it wouldn't be too mangled within all the jumbled signals for the others to hear.

We should try and practice speaking through here too. Our familiars aren't going to be much help and... It'll probably be useful if we get separated.

When she opened her eyes, Momei was staring up at her, strangely by her feet, as though having sensed that she was talking about them. Despite the fact that the cat very rarely had nothing scathing to say about any given situation, she was strangely quiet now. Berrybee's eyes darted to the others, to see if they'd heard her.

As for the mention of the supposed Hotdog King, the name rung a bell. Bibi frowned, scratching at her cheek, but the memories were slippery between her fingers. "... Did... Did we know that guy?" she questioned aloud, before the realization set in, eyes darting back to Heather. "... We fought him. And you. The hotdog suit guy with the clown shoes. And the hotdog gun."

It all sounded ridiculous. Berrybee was a food-themed magical girl too, but being reminded of a villain who fought with a hotdog sniper that actually hurt like a bitch was both laughable and exasperating. Especially when the villain himself had been fighting alongside their former ally.

Luna asking if the both of them were okay did give her a second of pause though, momentary shame bubbling up inside of her for not having asked first. "Yeah, um... Do both of you need a minute? Before we keep going?"

 

[Noctis the Devious]

Pagen ducked as energy swelled aboved her and there they were: the rest of the team. After that dramatic entrance wherein she was nearly crushed, information was spat at her rapid fire. She forgot how bizarre it was to be a magical girl; to dress up in cute dresses and fight The Villain of Week, themed after one thing or another. Apparently that's what they were dealing with, a villain from a past she wasn't pivy too. Of course their current team was largely made up of a previous magical girl team, why wouldn't it be? Magical girls more often than not fought together. It was rare for them to fight alone like Pagen did, not that she was given much of a choice.

The first ever teamup she was apart of was spontaneous and not well thought through, considering her powers were lightning base and one of the girl's that got stuck with her was water based. One thing lead to another, their magic crossed paths by pure accident, and half the team got zapped. Her reputation went down hill from there, especially after a rumor started that she attacked other magical girls. It wouldn't be the last nasty rumor she starred in either.

But water under the bridge. Besides, it wasn't like Pagan ever failed a mission before this so it wasn't like she needed to be a part of a team in the end anyway. If they did seem to make things easier and more fun... She shook off her thoughts and returned her attention to the grisly scene one of the others was now crouched in front of.

The situation in the warehouse was becoming more grim by the second, the way the final members of the team talked was unsettling, the familiars were making nuisances of themselves...

We should try and practice speaking through here too. Our familiars aren't going to be much help and... It'll probably be useful if we get separated.

...and now she had voices in her head. Well, there was a first time for everything. What was she even supposed to respond with?

Got it. Yeah, she totally nailed her first psychic communication in a long while. Wait, did that actually "hit send", so to speak, or did she just think that normally?

"Are you two okay though?"

"Yeah, um... Do both of you need a minute? Before we keep going?" Both questions were lodged at the two members acting odd on opppsite sides of that fucked up scale. So much for practicing telepathy or whatever. She cast a glance at the new arrivals. On one hand, their current condition meant they could continue on without a single thought in their head about it. Even Pagan couldn't guarantee she'd be able to handle whatever happened to a literal child in any reasonable way. On the other, it could also prove detrimental to any teamwork or morale they ever hoped to build up.

"Someone should scout out the area," she decided. Of course she was volunteering herself. Interpersonal issues weren't exactly in her field of expertise, and if this little group had shit to sort out, she wouldn't be much of use here anyway. "If we plan on looking for answers, we should first make sure this area is actually secured. Then find out any information regarding your..." She couldn't believe she was actually being made to say this, "Hotdog... King...?"

 

[Nemopedia]

How could Altair forget their shared telepathy? The magia felt rusty, as if she had been out of business for more than a decade, yet if her memory served her well Altair knew no better than that she had always been a magia.

I am alright she responded, confused at the concern of the newcomer in their group. There was no time to figure out what had transpired in the short while that it took her to meet up with the rest, but there were bigger matters at hand. Like the apparent death of...

Through the ravage and splinters of boxes, stopped by the concrete wall that marked the borders of the warehouse, Altair first saw the blood pooling together, followed by a young pair of legs and the drenched costume of what should have come across as more familiar if not for the gruesome state it was in. A gasp of air, a thick swallowing and Altair landed just before the full body came into view, the shock and horror accompanied by the confusion - had her legs been so slender as well as a teen before adulthood filled her out post-puberty? - halting for a moment as she tried to remember since when their villains ever outright killed.

Execute Hotdog Clown on sight. The command sounded in her mind, repetitive, strange and distant. Since when was the word 'execute' ever used? Altair wondered, yet she didn't question. To execute was the only option in the face of a death sister.

"Hotdog Clown, come OUT!" Altair roared, now wanting to be heard, wishing for the confrontation as she pulled her bow taut, dark matter gathering to form a bow, different from the vibrancy she was so used to before.

 

[TerraBooma]

Heather had never liked the shared telepathy, and that was before she had gone and betrayed her team to serve the ever evolving whims of the abysmal chaos gods known as the darkness. At the time it had truly felt like the only way out. And the time returned to her own mind had certianly offered her a small sense of relief from the discomfort of having thoughts that were not your own inside her head

"Eric and I- he is the Hotdog King, yes. As was his moniker at the time. I was never sure if he came up with it himself or if the forces of darkness simply inscirbed their will upon him. I will admit that I was not particularly caring. He was an ally of convinence after I turned against you and the forces of MAGIA- I would not say I ever particularly considered him my friend." Heather had needed allies, it was just prudent. The girl had run out of powers and options around the same time. She had a knack for robitics and enough funding from mysterious dark entities to make hordes of robotic legions and other nefarious traps; but her reign as the villain for her magical girl kin was one spent cowering. Fighting Gerilla tactics and attempting to stay one step ahead of them. "Eric hated being called the Hotdog Clown, which is what MAGIA ended up dubbing him. I do not know if one of my own cohort was responsible for the moniker, but he was very adamant that he was to be king. This may be beneficial for when we must execute him. He is patient, but easily roused by name calling and other jabs at his prowess. It is not difficult to manipulate him, and we can use that to kill him swiftly.

That made a strange sensation churn inside her gut. Handy Mandy had never been anything more than an ally of convinence with the strange and essentric king of meat. The sniper had rubbed her the wrong way as many times as they had gotten along and there had been plenty of nights that she was convinced he was going to betray her. And yet; he never did. They had worked together for a good few years until she had been defeated, and they hadn't seen her after that. Where had you gone Eric, what had you been through? What had the sands of time done to the both of them. If Magia was recruiting, was the darkness? All questions she didn't have the capacity to really give a shit about.

Regardless. Watch for threats from afar. He prefers to fight from range. I do not believe he has a legion at his disposal, unless he managed to recover some of my old robots and has simply been sitting on them. For those considering if we need to stop, do not fear. The sooner we murder him, the sooner our task will be done. We need only complete our mission and then we can return to our lives.

If only.

Handy Mandy slipped ahead of the group at that point. Looking for a corpse- the victim. More churning in her gut. "We should figure out how she died. That may tell us if Eric is working with anyone else, or if the King has returned to his ranged preference. His mustard cannon was something he was rather proud to finish, but I never got to see him use it before they defeated me. Did you ever fight it?" Mandy begins following the trail of blood, looking to find the corpse on the other end of it. THe others could follow her or not. Emotion Blanked or not...she wasn't a great team player.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

Altair seemed to ignore their concerns, moving past boxes with almost robotic, efficient speed, before she roared so loud that Berrybee nearly jumped in place. She missed the comforts of her sharp suits, her professional wear, the way that it made her feel imposing and like she could belong wherever she chose to stand. Though she was technically more powerful in this form with the whole superpower shit, it just made her feel like an idiot. She clicked her tongue, frowning, but hustled after Altair, who had apparently, in her quick scouting in response to Stormweaver, found the body.

Bibi froze in place, seeing the little girl, perhaps only 10 years old, between crushed boxes, her face and bangs caked in blood. She'd forgotten how small children could be, how sickening it could be to see their little bodies contorted. Her eyes, thankfully, were closed, her magical transformation somehow having persisted after death, but none of her sparkles or frills could distract from the fact that right between her eyes, there was something like a slightly thicker bullet hole.

She'd gotten sniped by a fucking hotdog?

It would have maybe even been comical if it wasn't so fucking cruel. She felt herself gag, feeling Heather close the space between them, still talking about The Hotdog Clown wanting to be a King or whatever else. "... It was never like this, when we were kids. The ammo felt like... Like a paintball gun or something. It ached, but it never..." she trailed off, shaking her head, her eyes first on Heather, then Pagan and Luna, trying to gauge their reactions to see if they'd ever seen such a thing in their own time as magical girls. She quickly put a hand on Altair's shoulder now that she was in closer range, trying to coax her into lowering her weapon, "Altair, just wait. We don't even know if he's still here."

Handy Mandy asked about the mustard gun. In truth, even though she was trying to be helpful, Bibi felt her patience wane. "... No. And it looks like she only got shot at. He's probably alone, going fucking rogue." she snapped, her eyes avoiding the body and its numerous bullet wounds. "There are probably other corpses here. I doubt they sent her in alone."

 

[Fyrra]

"So we're really just going to murder someone?"

Luna didn't even know where to start. Sure, twenty years of entry-level jobs had gotten her vocal about not liking people, and in her teen years she was in more than a few scrapes (some of them even related to Magia), but she'd lost her drive for combat more than a decade ago. Altair's battle-yell even got the white-haired girl covering her ears up, to little effect. The way her voice reverbed off the warehouse walls might as well have had an echo to it, but the sheer volume at least kept Luna from face-palming. Seems the rest of the group was just as rusty as her.

"Ugh, stop yelling. He wouldn't still be here: this is a bad place for a sharpshooter-shootout." Luna followed behind Heather, giving everyone a few meters of personal space... and watching higher up, towards any exits or windows, for any sudden glints of light, or infrared dots. A sniping-focused adversary was bad news on its own, but in the city, that was even worse. This Eric could be hiding out in a tall apartment building, or a public venue, or just anywhere. There were hundreds of places to lay low in Adenaport, and sniffing out each one would be an inefficient use of everyone's time. At least Eric would stand out, if he was wearing his hotdog suit?

When Luna saw the body, she had to look away. There were multiple puncture wounds at just a glance, and she couldn't take it. She hurked, covered her mouth, and ran straight for the floor drain: looks like it was her turn to lose lunch. Even just the thought of how dumb it all sounded faded away at the realization that this killer didn't just shoot a child once, but several times. Even her shoulder chinchilla winced at the sight, and patted her on the head.

Luna no longer felt the need to ask why she was even here. Following the stench of days-old corpses would just cement that feeling even further: of all the people she didn't like, children were the worst, but they didn't deserve this. Most people didn't, but especially not someone just barely getting into middle-school and having their world turned up-side down over a wish. The gravity of Magia bringing her back sunk in. What was it, forty-two dead ankle-biters? If there were six to a group, that's seven full squad-wipes.

"Chin up, detective," the chinchilla chided her, "we'll all be two days from retirement if we let this continue."

Luna barely had time to catch her breath.

"Fine, fine. We can have a little regicide as a treat, but at least consider watching fewer cop-soaps," Luna groaned back as she shambled back upright and started looking elsewhere for bodies. She tapped her ear along the way, figuring that if she was hearing others' thoughts, Magia had rewired her telepathy to this group while she was caught up in the little argument at HQ.

I've read that snipers that miss vital spots on purpose tend to leave their victims alive in the open, to bait out others in a group. If this girl isn't the only casualty here, then they got caught in a trap. This could be a killbox after all, or they could have just corned him here and he started panic-firing up close. Take care around windows and open spaces: we stick out.

 

[TerraBooma]

"The organization we have been pressed gang by has expressly ordered that we kill him. Given the nefarious methods that they have stooped to in the past, as well as the fact that they were entirely content to supress the emotions of ourselves until we grew more compliant, it is likely that you have little choice. Should you choose to disobey orders to their dislike, you will be reprogramed as we were. While it is possible they will accept that Eric has some alternative means of being dealt with, I will remind you that this organization is ultimately as childish as we were when we fell into their grasp. Anything less than Black and White morality will likely not be tolerated. That said, that is simply a guess. If you would like to risk reprogramming, then be my guest. Just know it is extremely unpleasant."

Wait, what was she saying?

Heather gripped her forehead, letting out a soft moan as her mind tried to find with the notion of the control she was under. Everything was hazy. Everything was so...droll. Even murdering a man she had fought beside had the same level of disinterest as watching pain dry. It felt wrong. it felt twisted. A knot of anxiety started to well up inside of her gut, but then the programming took over, and she didn't feel much of anything at all.

It was probably for the best. Heather crouched down over the dead kid, looking down at the corpse of the fallen child with an indifferent kind of blankness. For just a moment, she hung onto her reprogramming. She knew she wouldn't be able to look at her without the empty husk of nothingness that enveloped her.

"Well gee! She doesn't look too good Mandy! You outta whip her up some kinda medical attention!" Wrenchy cheerfully attempted to add to the situation. It seemed the familiar was something foreign to the idea of death.

"She is Dead, wrenchy. We cannot restore her. Short of becoming God and readjusting her soul into her body and sealing the wounds."

"Oh! I see! Gotcha Goobers!"

"We cannot do that."

"Oh!...Aw..." The wrench with eyes was saddened about this.

So she set off, walking out and looking for more bodies. Either they'd find out what was going on, or they'd find Eric. The Hotdog King...Clown.

"The Hotdog king would not have decided to murder children if he thought there was any other way. Deduction, or cope? The once villainess couldn't quite say.