Criminals came in all kinds of guises. Anderson was no gentleman thief.
He'd known before any of this started that he and Michaels would probably--hopefully--never see each other again. Escapes were rare, successful ones even less so, they'd talked it to death. There was a better chance of getting away if they weren't together; make the guards divide themselves, give the police more work to do. Too bad. He'd miss the son of a bitch.
And then once that blue shard had gone into his arm, well, it had all become so clear. So easy. He wouldn't go back. Even if it meant getting killed. But that wasn't going to happen; even though he was fleeing, he'd never felt better in his life. Like he could take on the world and win.
Except his jumpsuit. The things had always been a pain in the ass, but it'd never felt tight before...
First snippet he heard had him. Oh, the monster listened in well to that, piecing things together easily as it went along.
East, was it? ... He'd forgotten how his abilities were somewhat dampened here. He'd have to actually work this time, wouldn't he? With a sigh, he scrawled some quick note to leave on the desk. Anything would do, really. Blah blah blah went out for a walk, be back whenever. No one was in today, and there were other priests in the parish for people to bother.
This was too important to pass up.
Within a matter of seconds, he'd vanished from the room. Quite literally. It'd take some pinging around before he could begin to hone in on a very interesting magical 'frequency'. The woods? The priest flickered out of sight.
Didn't need to be caught, after all. Now, lets see what these shards could do.
She was a magical girl. And even though her goal was Kaitou Kid, the burst of voices from Aoko's cell phone had caught her attention.
. . . Perhaps it was the shard's attention. Who knew? Either way, she immediately left off from the dishes, leaving them in a soapy mass in the pan and made her way to the roof, hands trailing soapsuds. In a wash of energy, she was in white and silver fluff, soaring over the sky.
Unlike Kid, she did not particularly want to risk the trees. Bad things had happened with the trees last time. Instead she soared low over the treetops, trying to catch a glimpse of the escapee. The foliage was fairly thick, but maybe his clothes would stand out . . . Many times the clothes of prisoners did.
Wait! There, that flash of orange! The girl dove in through the trees -- but only to misjudge again, setting off a sharp crackling of branches. Damn it . . . She looked for her quarry; he wasn't too many feet away when she'd spotted him . . .
A sharp snap of a blond head at the sound of the cracking branches, but Anderson wasn't terribly concerned by it. Or rather, barely registered it. It was instinct that made him look around, not caution or fear.
And a sense that he was not alone.
After the shard had gone in, it was like his brain started running a mile a minute along with the rest of him, clamoring loudly and insistently that he must not be caught, that he would not be caught. A quiet, rational part lurking in the back of his mind told him to stop and remove his shoes. They were getting very painful. It would be hard to run much farther in them.
Some things, Nida thought, were the same no matter where you were. Less than an hour ago, he'd managed to get into a screaming match with his brother, who wasn't even his real brother, but apparently Aden was Aden no matter what universe he was in. Their parents had stepped in to stop them and Nida had stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to break something and not even caring if he did. He walked, trying to get as far from home as possible to let his anger cool off before he tried to do anything else pertaining to his family.
And that, you see, was the reason he was out there in the forest when the phone started acting up. He'd been walking for a while by then, with his head down and his shoulders up and his hands shoved as deep into the pockets of his coat as he could get them. He ignored the phone at first, but eventually the nature of its noises got through the mental wall of his anger and he realized that maybe this was something he should be paying some attention to
( ... )
Fortunately Dove had slowed herself on a couple of branches on the way down and landed in a bush, though that didn't help the fact that landing itself still hurt and did not much improve her mood.
"'M fine," she muttered, more out of habit than anything-- only to have her head whip up as she suddenly realized she wasn't alone. Light flicked into her palm abruptly as she whirled on the voice -- something like a fiery coin pinched between forefinger and thumb.
. . . But meanwhile, the convict was getting away, wasn't he?
If it was a civilian, no good in making this worse than it already was by having been seen. With a last hesitant darted glance between Nida and the bit of fleeing orange, she took after the orange, the coin winking out. The shard pulsed at her collarbone, tugging and eager.
She soon wouldn't be very far behind Anderson . . .
Perhaps Dove would not have to chase him far anyway. Anderson had stopped so suddenly in his tracks as to send him tumbling to the ground, a cacophany of swearing and the angry crying of a crow. It had flow at his face, almost abormally large, wings beating furiously.
Anderson tried to shield his face with his arms. The bird seemed to approve of this, because right after the arms came up, it switched targets, it's beak biting at the shiny fragment of blue.
This was totally weird. He didn't know the status on masked characters with strange powers in this world, but he assumed they were few and far between. She was probably an outsider like he was.
She took off running and he glanced down at his phone. ...Had she gotten the same broken transmissions, then? And she was in a hell of a hurry, so...
That flash of orange, huh? He sighed, shoving the phone into his pocket, and took off running after that same flash. Whatever was going on, he was a SeeD, even if that didn't count for much here. That meant he had a duty to help where he could. (And if the guy fought while they were trying to take him down, maybe Nida'd have a chance to put his anger to use.)
A very large crow, yes, but that was partially toned down by the fact that it was attacking a very large man. Anderson had never been a small person, but he had never been, as he was now, some seven feet tall. And still growing from the look of it, his clothes strained, tore.
This was not helped by the sudden onslaught of burning coins and cards going everywhere.
"WHAT THE FUCK?" he was roaring. "WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?"
The crow shrieked as well, taking blows to one of its wings that forced it back, but unlike its original cry there was almost an undertone to it, something deeper and more like a man's cry.
Or perhaps that was merely an effect created by the shouting of the convict.
In any case, Kid would have to be careful. The bird was growing larger still, its shape shifting into something more humanoid. There was a shadowy, decidedly clawed hand coming for his bonny blue eyes.
Nida assessed the situation at a glance. Huge guy, huge bird, two people trying to take down the bird, bird trying to take down the guy. He assumed the guy was the convict in the transmissions, and that meant taking him down was a priority. And since the bird (why was the bird important?) was being handled, Nida went for the prisoner.
He was an unarmed combat specialist, but he was still facing somebody with about a foot and a half on him. Normally he could jump a person from behind and drag them down, but he was not guaranteed that here. He fought for it, though, trying to pull the convict to the ground.
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He'd known before any of this started that he and Michaels would probably--hopefully--never see each other again. Escapes were rare, successful ones even less so, they'd talked it to death. There was a better chance of getting away if they weren't together; make the guards divide themselves, give the police more work to do. Too bad. He'd miss the son of a bitch.
And then once that blue shard had gone into his arm, well, it had all become so clear. So easy. He wouldn't go back. Even if it meant getting killed. But that wasn't going to happen; even though he was fleeing, he'd never felt better in his life. Like he could take on the world and win.
Except his jumpsuit. The things had always been a pain in the ass, but it'd never felt tight before...
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East, was it? ... He'd forgotten how his abilities were somewhat dampened here. He'd have to actually work this time, wouldn't he? With a sigh, he scrawled some quick note to leave on the desk. Anything would do, really. Blah blah blah went out for a walk, be back whenever. No one was in today, and there were other priests in the parish for people to bother.
This was too important to pass up.
Within a matter of seconds, he'd vanished from the room. Quite literally. It'd take some pinging around before he could begin to hone in on a very interesting magical 'frequency'. The woods? The priest flickered out of sight.
Didn't need to be caught, after all. Now, lets see what these shards could do.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
. . . Perhaps it was the shard's attention. Who knew? Either way, she immediately left off from the dishes, leaving them in a soapy mass in the pan and made her way to the roof, hands trailing soapsuds. In a wash of energy, she was in white and silver fluff, soaring over the sky.
Unlike Kid, she did not particularly want to risk the trees. Bad things had happened with the trees last time. Instead she soared low over the treetops, trying to catch a glimpse of the escapee. The foliage was fairly thick, but maybe his clothes would stand out . . . Many times the clothes of prisoners did.
Wait! There, that flash of orange! The girl dove in through the trees -- but only to misjudge again, setting off a sharp crackling of branches. Damn it . . . She looked for her quarry; he wasn't too many feet away when she'd spotted him . . .
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And a sense that he was not alone.
After the shard had gone in, it was like his brain started running a mile a minute along with the rest of him, clamoring loudly and insistently that he must not be caught, that he would not be caught. A quiet, rational part lurking in the back of his mind told him to stop and remove his shoes. They were getting very painful. It would be hard to run much farther in them.
No. Must run.
Mustn't stop.
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And that, you see, was the reason he was out there in the forest when the phone started acting up. He'd been walking for a while by then, with his head down and his shoulders up and his hands shoved as deep into the pockets of his coat as he could get them. He ignored the phone at first, but eventually the nature of its noises got through the mental wall of his anger and he realized that maybe this was something he should be paying some attention to ( ... )
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"'M fine," she muttered, more out of habit than anything-- only to have her head whip up as she suddenly realized she wasn't alone. Light flicked into her palm abruptly as she whirled on the voice -- something like a fiery coin pinched between forefinger and thumb.
. . . But meanwhile, the convict was getting away, wasn't he?
If it was a civilian, no good in making this worse than it already was by having been seen. With a last hesitant darted glance between Nida and the bit of fleeing orange, she took after the orange, the coin winking out. The shard pulsed at her collarbone, tugging and eager.
She soon wouldn't be very far behind Anderson . . .
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Anderson tried to shield his face with his arms. The bird seemed to approve of this, because right after the arms came up, it switched targets, it's beak biting at the shiny fragment of blue.
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This was totally weird. He didn't know the status on masked characters with strange powers in this world, but he assumed they were few and far between. She was probably an outsider like he was.
She took off running and he glanced down at his phone. ...Had she gotten the same broken transmissions, then? And she was in a hell of a hurry, so...
That flash of orange, huh? He sighed, shoving the phone into his pocket, and took off running after that same flash. Whatever was going on, he was a SeeD, even if that didn't count for much here. That meant he had a duty to help where he could. (And if the guy fought while they were trying to take him down, maybe Nida'd have a chance to put his anger to use.)
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Was that a crow?
. . . A very large crow.
And that glimmer there . . . blue?
"Sleight of Hand!" The coins flicked into her fingers, flashing towards the dark bird. That small gleam of blue . . . she wanted that as well.
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This was not helped by the sudden onslaught of burning coins and cards going everywhere.
"WHAT THE FUCK?" he was roaring. "WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?"
The crow shrieked as well, taking blows to one of its wings that forced it back, but unlike its original cry there was almost an undertone to it, something deeper and more like a man's cry.
Or perhaps that was merely an effect created by the shouting of the convict.
In any case, Kid would have to be careful. The bird was growing larger still, its shape shifting into something more humanoid. There was a shadowy, decidedly clawed hand coming for his bonny blue eyes.
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He was an unarmed combat specialist, but he was still facing somebody with about a foot and a half on him. Normally he could jump a person from behind and drag them down, but he was not guaranteed that here. He fought for it, though, trying to pull the convict to the ground.
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