Day 1 - Bag 'Em and Tag'Em

[Corporal Light]

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"Anyways, what was I thinking about? Oh yeah, How long did it take these guys to make this damn festival? Looks like it took a crap ton of work," Ballad rants to himself as he continues to stroll through the Colosseum Carnival. It had only been a few minutes since he had signed up for the Prime Tournaments, and he was still wondering about his decision processing and whether or not he fucked up somewhere in the logic. I mean, seriously? Basing your success chances off a list of more than ten from three people? All with more or less different looks to them? Give me a break.

"Hardly matters now, I suppose. I bet I can't just write myself off the list now, considering my death isn't really much of a concern to those guys. I guess to make the best of it Ill just... walk around, see who else is here." Ballad was still not very thrilled of the fact that he would have to be going around and actually talk to people. The reasons why are... rather complicated, or at least that's what Ballad constantly reminds himself and others. In reality, however, he had never a actually given real answers. Whatever they happened to be, it was a secret only known to him.

Taking a deep breath, Ballad continues to stroll through the streets of the Carnival. Again, he was still rather impressed by the spectacle here, even if the actual social element he wasn't fond of. To his left and right were giant, striped stands of various color. Some sold food, others sold games, even though most were obviously rigged so they could steak your money after selling out a false hope that you COULD beat them. Occasionally, though, Ballad managed to come across some other, more noteworthy stands.

One in particular was an interesting one. It was easily noticeable from a distance, if not because it was surrounded by lines and lines of people. Curious, Ballad walked on up to the back of one of the lands, taking a peek at what was going on. The sign above the stand, hanging over everyone's heads composed of a crossbow with words saying "Bag 'Em and Tag 'Em." As he got closer, he could hear a man's voice shouting enthusiastically, almost theatrically, over the crowd of people surrounding the stand. It wasn't until Ballad was nearing the front could he get full clarity as to what was going down.

"Step right up, folks, for the hardest, most challenging, yet most rewarding shooting game ever experienced by mortal men," shouted the runner of the stand. He was clad in what appeared to be typical hunter garb, though Ballad swore he saw traces of red, dried up marks on his clothing reminiscent of blood, "Try and seed if you can best it! Best it, and you'll win a prize great esteemed!" Ballad stared at what was going down within the stand. He didn't exactly understand why the guy was acting all theatrical, especially since his motiff for the shooting gallery was... rather macabre. He didn't know what was called "good taste" in this land, but if part of it is from bloody spikes on the side, skulls with red eyes, and targets that squirt out blood whenever you hit them, then maybe this place isn't so friendly after all.

"Hey, you sir!" Ballad looked towards the source of the noise. It was the runner himself. "You look like you know your stuff about shooting. Why don't we say you teach these goons here a lesson in accuracy?" Ballad paused, moving his left hand up to his hat to rub it as he looks around. The runner of the stand was certainly good at getting people's attention onto others, seeing as at least four dozen people were silently pressuring him forward. At first, Ballad didn't want to, as he was certain he would be helping a flawed system continue. But he would relent. Ah fuck it. If I turned around every time a crazy dude with a gun walked up to me and proceeded to start shouting then.... well I'd probably kill him, but killing this guy in public isn't very smart.

Silently walking forward, the runner of the stand proceeds to clap his hands, followed by the crowd surrounding him as he shouts "Good, good! All you need to do is hit the targets. You only have three shots, miss any and you won't win! For maximum enjoyment, I can either give you a ranged weapon with an additional fee, or use one already provided to you!" Eyes widening, he looks down towards his waist, his left hand slowly parting his coat. After taking one last glance around, he moves his right hand to the handle of his revolver, pulling it out of his holster.

The runner of the stand wisely moves to the aide, out of harm's way. The crowd holds their breath, wanting to see where this goes. Ballad remains silent, inspecting the targets from his position at the stand. They resembled... heads, of some sort, and they were hardly big enough to be anything more than human skills. Sick bastards, the ones that endorse this crap. Whatever, let's just beat this and leave.

Adjusting his aim, he points his revolver towards the leftmost skull, pulling the trigger after cocking the hammer. A loud gunshot, followed by a flash of light from the barrel, and the skull exploded into a red mist. The crowd cheered; some clapped. Two more remaining. Moving his revolver to the right, he aims at the middle skull, cocks the hammer, pulls the trigger. Skull explodes. The crowd holds their breath. He might actually do it.

Moving his revolver to the right, he aims at the last skull. It is here when Ballad sees how rigged the whole thing was. As he fires, the bullet somehow enlodges itself into the wooden stool it was standing on. Shocked, he lowers his revolver, certain he had the thing in his sights. The crowd behind him lets out a disappointed groan. The runner of the stand walks up to Ballad, sighing as he sadly says "Damn... thought for sure you had it in you. Anyways... five gold pieces."

Ballad let out a sigh, moving to allow the next stupid sap to play this bullshit game. Holding his left hand, he summoned up five gold pieces after three minutes, handed them to the runner, and proceeded to walk away from the stand.

[Ururu Kyuuei]

Ururu heard the protests of one little girl, or rather one of about equal size to herself. Turning back she saw Desco moving with a streams of stares trailing after the little girl followed closely by Hikaru who had manage to secure what looked like a bokay of bacon.

Mouthwatering and considering what she know of the young Boss, Ururu figured that she should at least stay put for a few seconds for the girl to catch up. Plus those stares could be nothing good, no doubt Hikaru would string her up if she did anything that would hurt the girl or let her come to harm either. Maybe people around here didn’t like children. Her own experience with the three men proved that.

And like her own world there was an expectation that most homeless orphans would die when the first winter frost hit.

Cruel, but not unexpected.

Waiting for a moment longer, Ururu snatched up the little tentacled turd’s hand.

“Come on squirt, I don’t know any of this world’s food. So we have to try EVERYTHING.” Well except bacon which was the food of the gods themselves. Delicious strips of pork.

Whatever pork was.

Boar she had heard of but it was expensive to import from beyond the continent… Well which wasn’t important now. Now she could have anything she could think of. Hell she could start an empire of exotic foods if she really felt like it. Something to think about at least.

Smiling, it didn’t take long that before the trio had a number of snacks held between them which reminded her that she REALLY needed to get her fuuinjutsu working fully. Her backpack was going to get awfully full at this rate. Luckily the conversion of omnilium was in pence at most.

CRACK!

And then there was a burst of a noise she had only read about. Or rather she mistook it for normal explosives. But as the road cleared for an instant she saw something impossible.

No not impossible. Something completely crazy.

It was a feat of mechanical engineering which could topple governments. Things her people purposely suppressed due to the risk of them being used to overpower shinobi easily. Why the crossbow was a restricted licensed weapon.

No not a feat, a marvel. Even at this distance the simplicity of the design was like… cake. Yes cake. The invention of cake as a weapon. Easy to eat, pleasant to behold. Yet it could murder humanity with its insidiously delicious texture and softness. It wasn’t an exact match but that was to be expected.

Different culture, different inventors but the concept was the same yet several generations more advance.

It was a gun.

And no one here seemed to be shocked to see it as much as Ururu was.

“Desco-chan, how much do you know about that device that man is holding?” Ururu said finally, unsure of what action to take. They were dangerous weapons… was this normal to be using them in such contests of skills? If she needed to protect her charges, she could kill the man.

But mistakes like that get people in trouble.

She didn’t want to be on the run when she was finally free.

[Schwi Dola]

Desco watched the food stand as someone else walked up to buy a hot dog. Loaded with ketchup and mustard, the result was mouth-watering to the young final boss. She really wanted that cotton candy too. In Hades Desco had plenty of foods to eat. Anything from simple Ramen to the fanciest of Sushi to the cheapest of Burgers, demons had access to all kinds of foods similar to any and every culture of the human world and beyond. Although you had to be careful about it too, zombie food usually contained brains, seasoned with brains, or otherwise had human flesh and Desco didn't want to eat that. Nor would she want to eat the rocks that a stone golem might need in his diet. Sardines tasted good though, and plenty of omega 3 fatty acid or whatever.

However, Ururu pulled her away from that to look at a guy using a rather simple looking gun firing in a shooting range game. He was kinda odd looking, with the green skin and yellow eyes he was probably a goblin family demon? Those games were always rigged and Desco knew that from her vast programmed knowledge and cartoons on tv, though she had no personal experience at a carnival. That detail was lost in the moment though, caught up in the fiction presented as the man shot one target after another only to miss in the end. He must not be 'that' great a shot!

Ururu had asked about the gun itself, not the contest he was in. Desco looked closer at it, the weapon was certainly an old fashioned one. Revolvers were more of an old west type thing, but in the Netherworld anything that resembled a weapon could be more than meets the eye. The classic revolver on Earth could no more hurt her than a sniper rifle could, but demon weapons had all sorts of magical power attached and here in the Omniverse things leaned more towards the Netherworld standards. Even Prinnies could be deadly when properly leveled up. The young final boss took things at face value anyway, pushing the possibilities aside. "It looks like a revolver that a cowboy would use! It shoots bullets, but it probably can't hurt Desco." Desco didn't quite pick up on Ururu's shock about the weapon, and Desco's eyes were soon back on the food stands.

[Corporal Light]

"Why did I even bother playing that rigged game? All of these damn things are rigged, so why did I even give a single THOUGHT to that one?" Ballad questioned to himself as he slowly trudged through the long line of people surrounding the stand. Half of him wanted to just run back, punch the owner of the stand for swindling everybody, then proceed to go on a rant about the debatable legality of carnival games. He really wasn't sure what the purpose of that would be other then to beat up somebody, though he wasn't afraid to admit it. He did feel like the game made him look worse at shooting than he really was. That's how he knew it was rigged. He couldn't have missed that skull. It simply wasn't possible, objectively impossible by every stretch of the imagination. That was when the other half of his mind took control. The other half, also known as 'talk a lot to try to figure some stupid bullshit out' half, was a hell of a lot more focused on trying to figure out exactly how the game was rigged.

Closing his eyes for a few moments, he parts his green winter coat, opening up one of the bags attached to his belt. Removing three bullets, he slides out the rotating cylinder of the revolver, lightly brushing, but not pressing, a red button underneath the trigger itself with his index finger. He did not intend to use THAT particular feature. Not unless he absolutely, positively had to use it. Gently pushing the three spent bullet cartridges out of the cylinder, he slides in the remaining three as the spent cartridges fall into the dirt road, dust kicking up into small clouds. He then parts his coat again, sliding his revolver back into his holster.

With his gun fully loaded, and his mind back into focus on what went down in that stand, He began to debate with himself, just like he always does whenever shit like this happens. The first time, it was over whether or not this place was an afterlife (he still hadn't finished that debate.) The second time, it was over how the he'll those goons managed to do so much damage, or to be more specific, how his fucking gun now requires the hammer to be pulled back before firing, which screws his fire rate (also no answer as of now.) The third time, it was about the purple swirling portal thing. The fourth, about the heat. Now, it's about the stand.

"Anyways, where was I? Oh right, the range game thing. I swear everything I have on me that the sights on my revolver were perfectly on that skull, and the bullet just landed like it was never on the skull to begin with. I can really only think of two reasons for this, and neither of which can be my fault. The first is that the game is rigged, which is the most likely. How it is rigged is pretty much a crapshoot in and of itself. The second is that me being here has affected my gun more than I realized. In which case I... might be screwed.. in some cases...." That second option slowly dawns onto Ballad, causing him to stop in his tracks. It is worth noting that he had been walking in the direction where Ururu and Desco were at, so they could see what he was doing, and hear more or less every word out of his mouth, even though it was muffled thanks to the scarf. They would easily notice the rather unnatural, unfit for the climate type of clothing on his person, as well as that it was mostly green to go with his face. Except of course for the scarf, which covered up his mouth and nose, as well as a green trapped hat on his head. They could easily see every action he made, assuming they cared enough TO see them.

Ballad goes silent as he looks back down his coat, parting it slightly as he reaches his right hand inside. Although he didn't want to admit it, and certainly won't, not to anyone, he had gotten a rather odd feeling that him being in this.... Omniverse had screwed his revolver in a few ways, but he wanted to be sure. He already knew that the revolver required the hammer to be pulled back, and the few tines he has fired, the recoil of it was noticeably higher than back home. So maybe THAT was what screwed me there. The recoil was a lot higher, and I underestimated it. Fuck...

Ballad was about to out his revolver away when something else came to his mind. He needed to know if the... other setting could still work. Raising the revolver again, he twisted it to his right, revealing a pair of multi-colored buttons, all with numbers on them that went from "1" to "5." Holding his left hand out, he summoned up a tool that appeared to look like a screwdriver in about three minutes. Moving the tip of the driver to a screw that was, well, screwed into the revolver, He slowly twists out the screen. He repeats this process to three other screws, taking about another minute.

After removing the screws, he gently, as if holding and infant and trying not to shake it, raises the panel with the numbers on it. Staring inside it, a long, stringy and white substance slowly follows out of the newly made hole, connected to the panel. Gently, Ballad pulls the panel backwards some more, suddenly stopping when he hears a kink noise from within the revolver. That was the explosive. The last resort. The true danger. Satisfied, he slowly places the panel back over the hole, careful not to tangle up the wick, as it was vitally important that the wick never brushed against another surface, including itself, prematurely. It could cause some... messy accidents if it did. After making sure the wick wasn't touching anything without the manual command, he sets to work screwing the panel back onto the revolver, his head down towards the ground. He hardly moved out of the way for anybody and barely acknowledged the fact he was in a crowded place full of food, rigged games, and possibly people who were going to be annoyed by this. He hardly cared, though, as he often managed to hear them before they bumped into him. Besides, if they did, he would probably flip out for basically damn near killing everyone, including himself. Mostly himself. But he didn't think anyone was going to be a dumbass and try that. Unless...

Just to be on the safe side, each time some person was getting close to him, he rudely reminded them not to bump into him, for fuck's sake. More often than not, he get an equally rude and annoyed response to boot, but the masters never got anywhere beyond those words. Did the trick, like always. Whenever you need to keep people from getting themselves killed, or you just want to be left alone, just be an asshole. Which wasn't hard. He had plenty of practice himself, especially back home. There was just something about close friendship that threw him for a loop. The one thing he just couldn't understand no matter how hard he tried. It pissed him off with each comment made about it. That was probably why he acted the way he did to people back home. Because the concept was as foreign as this Omniverse. Probably also explains why he never really got all that close to people. Hell, his own family wasn't even that close to him. He couldn't quite remember at the moment, but he was fairly certain that, for his entire lifespan, he hadn't really had more than around ten prolonged discussions with anyone that didn't get shot or get kicked out of his home y the end of it. The closest thing he got to a "relationship" with anyone was merely as,work acquaintances.

Ah, who the fuck cares. Most of those guys were clockwork minions without even knowing it. I should concentrate on this bomb setting. Don't want to get myself into more trouble than I already am.

[Ururu Kyuuei]

Whoever this man was, he talked like a first person noir crime novel only without the filters of publication nor to just himself. But that gun. That gun was what interested her and they had plenty of food for a sting operation. In this Ururu and Hikaru’s minds were in sync… well mostly.

And more to the fact he was just standing there fiddling.

Ururu began leading them towards him with Hikaru in close tow. As Ururu reached nearer to her destination she adopted a more natural and friendly walk, however Ururu leaned in conspiratorially towards Desco and grinned, “Desco-chan, how does the Final Boss in you feel about spying?”

Her grin wasn’t just a subtle thing, it was more of a mischievous ‘I’m not acting my age’ sort of Grin that Hikaru was starting to learn to fear. The kind of thing she needed to nip in the bud but for all the power she had over her lover, something about this was concerning as well. That such weapons their Shinobi governments feared more than anything was in the hands of a common man here. But how common was common?

Was he a prime?

Hikaru then finally found it in her to speak up. “Perhaps,” she began with a tone of authority, “we should just ask the man about his weapon?” Though it was phrased in the form of a question it wasn’t really much of a request but rather a suggestion with a number of strong connotations.

Connotations like, ‘You’re a fifteen year old’, ‘She’s a child and your looking to her for support for your idea’ or the kicker, ‘Act like an adult!’. All of which while unspoken were rattling around in the Network that connected Ururu and her clones all together.

Ururu cocked an eyebrow. Sure that was a possibility, boring, dull and practical. Stupid logic.

“Guess so,” Ururu grunted in defeat.

Ururu gave Desco’s hand a squeeze and followed with, “Well either way we should eat all this grub huh?” She had kept her grip on the younger girl’s hand, though it wasn’t quite like Hikaru’s more comfortable skin. It do for now until they could unload at least one of her lover’s hands.

Hikaru caught that statement like a drowning woman would a floatation device, “he may also be more receptive to answering questions in exchange for some of our food. We have entirely too much as it is.”

If she didn’t get them both to behave in a reasonable fashion Hikaru was sure they’d all be dead by the time Tournament was ready to start. Spying on random people with guns? It was like drinking liquid suicide. There was a reason why even research into chemically propelled weapons was banned, marked top secret and suppressed with bloody vengeance continent and island wide that involved whole families.

It was one of the few things the Councils apparently could regularly agree to the point where the only people allowed to pursue a career in fireworks were Shinobi of the highest, most propaganda filled, caliber. Something Ururu found out when her application for demolitions training was summarily denied because of ‘personality’ conflicts.

It was until months and years later that the reasons were made clear in one of many historical finds that Ururu, Hikaru and the rest of their group would make in private.

The archeologists in both of them had been offended personally when they found out the councils were purposely manipulating history to erase mentions of knowledge deemed unfit for consumption.

Funny how the seeds of rebellion could be planted from such knowledge.

Not that their rebellion ever amounted to anything, not when they were stuck here in this world.

Finally close enough to the man to speak to without yelling over the crowd, Ururu squeaked out, “Excuse onii-san. What are you doing?”

[Corporal Light]

"Alright... just one more screw, and it should be good.." Ballad said to himself as he places the final screw in the tiny hole, screwdriver placed within the hole of the screw. Raising his head, he takes a look around for a few seconds, making sure no one was about to bump into him. To his right, he saw a group of about three talking and walking. They wore dirty, obviously unkempt clothing, and they were paying absolutely no attention to what was in front of them. They were jabbering away about something, probably about some couple in Minas Tirith, judging from the snarky attitudes and the fact they mentioned 'couple in Minas Tirith.' They were apparently having a lot of fun with their gossip, seeing as they were headed straight for Ballad, and didn't look like they were stopping either. Ballad closed his eyes for a split second, shaking his head. He absolutely hated it when people did this. So focused on stupid drivel like that that they can't even pay attention to what was in front of them. What was actually important. Which in this case happened to be everyone else's lives they were about to put in danger. Don't mistake that for sympathy, as Ballad couldn't care less about the people walking past him. The same people who made these games rigged to steal you of money, and the people who were stupid enough to get swindled. As far as life could go, Ballad had learned that, out of every person he had ever met, they all fell into three separate groups. One, the impressionable. They believed whatever fucking thing they were being told, from propaganda, to deals, to obviously falsified news pieces designed to spread words of hatred and rage in the populace. Rile them up into a frenzy, then feed the victims to the snow beasts they themselves created. It was easy to figure out who those people were. Constantly around street corners shouting about divine intervention or the glory of war or some stupid shit like that. He had always wanted to go 'Congrats. You're promoting something that will cause everyone to get themselves killed in something they don't even understand, so you're filling them with bullshit to get more meat into the furnace to be burned. Go to hell.' He wouldn't even care if those people took offense. He was used to people who took offense to him.

Snapping out his own mind for a few seconds, he stares at the group of three before shouting "Hey! Look forward, dumbasses! You're gonna run into people! And by people, I mean ME," at the top of his lungs. The group finally turned their heads to see what looked to be a green-skinned man fiddling with a gun. They smiled to each other, and decided just for fun they'd give him a light tap. As a few others heeded Ballad's warning and walked past him, he was about to screw in the last screw when one of the members lightly bumped his left shoulder, causing his left arm to flinch and pull out the screw. The screw slipped off the screwdriver, falling onto the ground, creating a tiny dust cloud.

Obviously, Ballad was fucking pissed off. Turning around, he was going to give those assholes the verbal bashing of their life when they disappeared into the crowd. Letting out an angered sigh, he turns back around, not noticing Ururu and her pals making their way towards him. Picking up the screw and dusting it off, he proceeds to place it back into the hole, beginning the process again.

What was he thinking about again? Oh yeah, groups of people. Let's see... second group.. oh yeah. The second group was people who exist purely because they like to cause as much trouble as they possibly could. Didn't even give much of a damn that what they were doing was just going to bite them into the ass much later on in life. They just wanted to give as many people as possible the most amount of grief and misery possible. These people, like the impressionables, were easy to notice. They always had a weird glint in their eyes, like at any moment they would just pop and start burning things. Hell, that Wicker Man who started the war back home was probably part of this second group of people. If I had my gun on me at the time, I would've shot the asshole right before he burned the Church. Stop all that shit from happening. But, that's not an option anymore. Now I'm standing here in some forest world, and I have no idea how to get back. Go figure. Anyways...

Ururu squeaked out, “Excuse onii-san. What are you doing?”

Oh right. The third group. The stupid ones.

Just as Ballad had finished screwing in the last screw, he was caught off guard by Ururu talking to him in her squeaky voice. Muffled swearing came out of his mouth as he flinched backwards, nearly dropping the revolver before he held it with his left hand. He then looked downwards at the gun, his eyes wide with fear. Please don't ignite. Please don't ignite.

It didn't ignite. He would've heard the wick lighting up, ans the yellow '1' button lighting up, and counting down. Sighing, he looks upwards towards the person who was talking to him, only to be surprised by the sight. It was what appeared to be a little girl. Couldn't be much more than ten or eleven. She had sandy blond hair, with a scar across the bridge of her nose. Cute. She also appeared to be holding hands with two other people. One looked to be a teenager, while the other had horns and... purple hair and odd colored eyes. Direct descendent of that lizard thing maybe? Hopefully not. Hold on, why am I worrying about that?! THEY NEARLY BLEW AT LEAST TWO DOZEN PEOPLE APART, NOT INCLUDING THEMSELVES.

Finally not taking the outright stupidity of what he had been dealing with, he shouts "Alright, I'm going to assume you DIDN'T just walk up to me so you can kill yourselves and about two dozen people AROUND us and walking PAST us. So, I am going to give all three of you some lovely advice. And that is to NOT DO THAT AGAIN!!" It was heavily likely at this point that Ballad's angry shouts were going to draw a crowd, but Ballad didn't care a single bit. He was going to give these dumb kids the verbal lashing of their lives. Holding his revolver in his right hand, he sets the screwdriver down unto his coat pocket, raising the gun upwards, but not aiming it at anyone.

[Ururu Kyuuei]

Ururu’s skeptical grin that she had going up until now peeled off her face. The man was a complete total stranger. This just wasn’t the typical disregard for Orphans that Ururu was used to and had come to expect for years. No this was different. Hell she could remember every time someone ever yelled at her and in all those times they had been justified.

This however wasn’t.

This man seemed wrong.

She had already seen him talking to herself.

Hell, again, she did that and she knew she had the supernatural equivalent to multiple personality disorder. One persona of which was borderline sociopath. But even He never behaved like this. He had standards.

Ururu missed the confusion on Desco’s face as her own blood went cold; that the vitriol that was practically foaming from this man’s mouth, that he was subjecting her to. That was unacceptable. Whatever he was doing was apparently dangerous, in a crowded location, outside a place without any form of equipment or stationary table to support efforts of working on apparently a precision device. And he had all but openly blamed the three of him for his own stupidity.

A device that given from his reactions could go off from someone accidently poking it with a feather. As if it were made of nitro glycerin, in liquid not gelatin form.

His stupidity caused her own face to warp emotionally into something darker and much older than what it appeared. Dark enough to not belong on a fifteen year old’s face, let alone the face of a nine year old which she currently occupied. Her entire body bent ever so slightly for combat, the loose portions of her hair falling in front of her eyes though it didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.

Killer intent, not much of it but enough that Hikaru was ever so slightly worried, not that she bothered to stop her. But she could identify that sense across the network as any other shinobi likely could if any existed here.

Ururu glared at the man with something akin to disappointment and disgust. Her tone however was stained with something that sounded like hard won arrogance rather than petulant overconfidence and a tad bit of bitterness.

“That wasn’t very nice Onii-san.” Ururu said glancing at his lower extremities for only second before her eyes moved to reassert themselves the scarf obscured face. “Does Oni-san have an inferiority complex or is he just compensating?”

Her eyes then darted to the partially deconstructed to the gun at hand, getting even more an eyeful.

Her mostly free hand twitched ever so slightly with chakra as she felt the need to ready if her claws were to be needed. Hard to tell but something told her that starting a fight here wouldn’t be a good idea… at least with this face.

She would only have one chance if she did this now. The device was more complicated than she expected which meant more liable to break with the right impact. But that pickaxe on him was something she was more worried about. If he was used to wielding it, at this close of a range it’d be the more effective weapon.

That is if he could switch to it fast enough.

The muscle mass alone bespoke that he could do it but it didn’t give away how effectively or at what speed.

“The question is though” Ururu continued with a carefully played pause, even as her eyes took him apart, stripping him in more ways than one, “is why Oni-san would be stupid enough to field strip his weapon in a crowded area while it’s loaded.”

She sneered slightly as if even giving him that much respect was a platitude.

Her entire demeanor had shifted from one of childlike curiosity to that of someone used to crushing the most disgusting and dangerous pieces of human refuse the world could give her. She found him wanting. The shift was obvious to anyone who could see her plainly and most would likely have been shocked at the speed it happened.

Ururu found she wanted to ruin this man if his corruption was deeper than what it already appeared to be. And if deeper… well then it was a blight that needed to be removed from this place.

[Schwi Dola]

Desco frowned as the man that Ururu was interested in, or more so his gun, lashed out at them with his voice for some reason. He tore Desco away from observing the local food to confront his goblin ass. Desco didn't understand what he said, or really what Ururu said in detail gathering in summary that the man's weapon was dangerous, probably the ammunition.

However because of how suddenly and forcefully he spoke, and by his appearance Desco had no fear of a mere goblin, a low class minion, suddenly behind Desco Yogsothoth materialized. As he took a few seconds to solidify, Desco's tail slithered out from under her dress and pushed her body up into the air and a little forward, making her tall enough to look a little down on Ballad. She was not aware, but the yellow eyes all over her body that were within sight of Ballad adjusted to focus on him including the eyes on Yogsothoth. Instinct zeroed in on potential threats.

Desco leaned her upper body forward, her eyes closed and cross as she burst out.

[Schwi Dola]

"You aren't making any sense!" Desco righted her body, looking less cross as she got that off of her chest."Desco doesn't understand but Desco and Ururu and Hikaru haven't done anything wrong. Desco isn't even planning on going up to every person here to splatter their bodies into tiny bits like a Final Boss would do! She just came to have fun."

[Corporal Light]

Ballad watched as the young kid's grin slowly wiped off of her young face. His eyebrows did not move, though that was mostly because they weren't capable of movement, masking his emotions. However, he was still reeling from the actions of the kid and her crew. Who in their fucking right mind would walk up to someone fiddling with their weapon? Does this kid have a death wish?!

Probably so, considering she was probably close enough to hear him warning everyone else about what he was doing. They didn't appear to be having THAT much of a problem with him. Granted, they did occasionally talk back, but never pushed their luck like these kids tried to do. It reminded him about the third group of people that he knew existed, and like all the others were easy to notice. It's the people that pushed their luck until they couldn't push it no further, and acting confused when their luck breaks and they find themselves in the biggest shithole known to his kind. Which was, in all actuality, the bottom of a frozen lake. He's seen that kind of thing happen before. One of the favored, and most gruesome, manners of punishment back in the land of eternal winter was death by hypothermia. Basically, the criminal is tied up to a board about his size, and a giant hole is created in the frozen over lakes and oceans. Typically, the criminal is then tossed into the hole, where he is then left to either drown or slowly die from hypothermia. It was effective in a lot of ways, and Ballad himself had witnessed some of these executions personally. He wasn't entirely sure, however, if the bodies were ever recovered, or the bodies were left to eventually become part of the ice in the frozen lakes.

Whatever. It hardly mattered here. Hell, he'd like to toss this kid into a frozen lake and watch HER drown or die from the cold. Doesn't even look like she's wearing proper clothing for that harsh weather. Looks like a black robe that covers her back, and who knows what could be underneath it. He hoped that this kid wasn't seriously so stupid as to have nothing else underneath that robe, as he'd then start to wonder about her maturity. And the last thing he'd want to do is argue with a kid about maturity. Because all kids would do is just bitch and moan about how they were 'big boys now' and can 'do whatever they want.' He'd just shake his head and tell them off. That, or he'd just treat them like he would treat any kid. Usually involves lip smacking and saying 'awww...'

He was about to continue his rant when he noticed something change on the girl's face. He couldn't exactly tell what had happened, but he had a sneaking suspicion he had struck a nerve somewhere within that girl. He noticed how she bent forward a little, and how the bangs of her hair slipped in front of her eyes. Ballad kept his revolver held up high, though he did not aim it at the girl or at anyone else in the area. He cocked his head to the left a bit, keeping his eyes on her as she looked back up at him, a look of disgust on her face. This is odd. Very odd. Kids don't make those kind of looks. Even the most spoiled, brat-like kids don't make looks like that. No... this is more.. supernatural. Something... otherworldly.. and he didn't like that.

“That wasn’t very nice Onii-san.” Ururu said glancing at his lower extremities for only second before her eyes moved to reassert themselves the scarf obscured face.

Ballad followed the girl's gaze as she looked down at his pants, shaking his head in complete disappointment. He did not respond to her first statement. Yeah, it wasn't very nice. So what? Back in my world, we'd bitch slap a kid for talking back. Some families told stories of boogeymen, and kept them in line by threatening to leave them outside their homes late at night for the boogeymen to abduct them and cook them into soup.

“Does Oni-san have an inferiority complex or is he just compensating?”

It was here that Ballad realized something was most definitely off about this girl. Never, not in the history of anything he had ever seen, heard, or whatever other senses he had, a girl saying something like that to an elder. Something like that would most DEFINITELY be a call for a bitch slapping in his world. The other thing that didn't quite make sense was the rather... dirty words she was using. She was obviously talking about his dick, which he honestly couldn't care that much about. I mean, it was a means of procreation and a way to urinate. Why would people need to be obsessed with the size of it? That's just perverted. Hell, now that I think about it, absolutely NO kid on any planet would say perverted things like that.

"First off, if your first response to someone berating you for interrupting them while they were in the middle of checking their weapon is to look at their dick and start accusing them of compensation, then you really don't score any points on the maturity scale. It just makes you look like you have literally no way to argue with someone else." Ballad was about to continue on, probably about how a kid should be respecting their elders and listening to their advice, when he noticed the kid looking up at his gun. Rolling his eyes back up at it, he slowly curls his index finger around the trigger guard, careful not to touch the trigger itself. The kid must not have known the gun wasn't deconstructed. In fact, he had finished reconstruction by the time they started talking. His eyes darted towards her free hand, seeing it shake slightly. He wasn't sure why, but he was starting to dislike the position he was in more and more. This kid wasn't normal, and something tells him something was going on with her.

“The question is though” Ururu continued with a carefully played pause, even as her eyes took him apart, stripping him in more ways than one, “is why Oni-san would be stupid enough to field strip his weapon in a crowded area while it’s loaded.”

Stupid enough to field strip his weapon... good question, actually. He had to admit, that was a valid point. It probably wasn't the smartest idea to be doing that out here. Especially with the bomb setting. It wasn't really meant to be checked out out in public. Wait, was he thinking?! He invented the fucking thing! He knows the gun inside and out! Of course it was perfectly safe to handle in unorthodox locations. All the more proof this kid didn't know what the hell she was talking about.

"Here's my answer, kid. And stop shaking your hand like that, it's weird. And stop calling me this.. Oni-San, whatever that is. The answer is this. Even if I was field stripping my weapon out in public, the gun would be pointing at the side. Now, naturally, my fingers would be nowhere near the trigger itself. Considering you saw me toying with the thing, you must've seen my fingers never going near the trigger. Secondly, even if you did bump into me and the thing goes off, the likelihood of an injury is astronomical at best. I could just toss the gun up into the air, and at most you get a really bad public disturbance. So before you tell me how to operate something you probably don't even know how to use, have more faith in the people who made the things. Also known as me!"

Similar to the girl, his tone of voice, albeit muffled, was of hard-won confidence. It was clear he was not bullshitting the girl at all. He would've kept going.

------------------------------

He definitely would've kept going. He had argued with plenty of people before. None of them were kids, but he had a feeling they had about equal intelligence to them half the time. It was only Desco that stopped him, and for good reason. Just as he was about to speak again, he adjusted his eyes to look towards the purple haired girl. He looks down to the bottom of her dress as a tail appears from underneath it, lifting her up and a little forward. Eyes widened, he remains silent as the purple haired girl grows taller and taller. Holy shit... this is.. not normal.. at all..

Gotta be a dream.. gotta be a dream. These kinds of thoughts were racing through his head as the purple haired girl stood on her tail, looking down at him from a little bit of a distance. Maybe about a foot or so. Whatever it was, it was a little frightening. He lets out a slightly nervous grunt as the purple haired girl leaned forward, staring at him with her yellow eyes.

"You aren't making any sense!" Desco righted her body, looking less cross as she got that off of her chest."Desco doesn't understand but Desco and Ururu and Hikaru haven't done anything wrong. Desco isn't even planning on going up to every person here to splatter their bodies into tiny bits like a Final Boss would do! She just came to have fun."

All eyes were on him. He let in a sharp intake of breath as the thing began to speak, only to grow a lot less nervous as the thing actually spoke. What the fuck was it even saying? Almost all of what it said had the word 'Desco' at the start of it. Was that her name? Desco? Who's named DESCO?!

Looking up at Desco, he lets in a deep breath, trying to keep his composure as he begins to explain. "Alright, miss.. uh.. Desco. You don't appear to understand, so I'll explain in a language that is probably universal. Basically, your friends bumped into me. I shouted at them. Your more immature friend proceeds to comment on compensation, and you know the rest. Does that explain?" He secretly hoped it did. He didn't want to get into a wrestling match with the thing, especially with the kid right in front of him, looking like she was going to gut him with a knife. If so, he needed a strategy.

Thoughts racing through his head, he came up with an exit strategy that could work. The shooting range was only a few feet behind him, and there was still a huge crowd there from what he could tell. So, if worse came to worse, he could make a swift kick towards the kid, hopefully knocking her over. Then, he'd probably shoot the person next to her... whom looked a lot like the kid in front of her. Whatever, I'll probably shoot him after I kick the kid. Then, I'll turn around, and proceed to run like hell towards the range. Hopefully there I can use the cover of the crowd to escape. If needed, I can shoot the.. Desco. It should at least distract it long enough to buy him some time to escape.

[Simon]

What was there to say? The event was equal parts carnival and renaissance fair - though the latter was just by nature. Honestly, Dante didn't have much interest in anything here, from corny carny games to silly medieval trinkets to classical junk food. Not even the food interested him - if it wasn't pizza, he wasn't hungry. Though he would kill for some actual pizza. He would summon one up right now if he wasn't in the middle of a crowd and didn't have better things to think about.

Like what? The Colusseum, mostly. Truth be told, he was feeling a bit of pressure, wondering if he actually could rise above the rest of whatever competition appeared there. That in itself was mostly because he had no real idea of who/what the would be up against. It seemed most of the people who signed up were humans, but there were a few bestial or demi-humanoid creatures around the arena, so maybe it wouldn't be as easy as humans.

In any case, Dante decided he could use more of an edge. Recalling his ability to create from Omnilium, the Son of Sparda concentrated in his mind's eye, only vaguely paying attention to his surroundings but still walking forward. If he could find some sort of open area where-

"Alright, I'm going to assume you DIDN'T just walk up to me so you can kill yourselves and about two dozen people AROUND us and walking PAST us. So, I am going to give all three of you some lovely advice. And that is to NOT DO THAT AGAIN!!"

Never mind. Dante's concentration stopped, and he craned his vision over disturbed crowd to spy the commotion. There seemed to be a green man pointing a revolver into the air angrily, while a feral-looking youth confronted him with dark intent and a girl with a demonic entity at her back was rushing into to try and defuse everything.

Something ticked inside the nephilim. If this was a fight in the making, he wanted in. If it wasn't, he wanted to one-up them anyways and make himself known. It was a silly, impulsive, and ultimately rather foolhardy decision, which was exactly the kind of thing Dante was known for.

Before any other civilians in the crowd could even begin to suggest that maybe what he was doing was a bad idea, Dante began to push his way through the throng. It was to the chagrin of most of the people the shoved his way though, but they knew better to mess with a man outfitted for a demon's hunt. The red-coat broke through the invisible barrier that separated the masses from the children and the green man. Prepared for the worse situation, Dante drew the left-handed Ebony to hang idly from his hand and walked up behind the man.

The grass-colored figure suddenly became aware of someone leaning on his right shoulder. Stiffening himself to compensate, he briefly turned his vision to witness the white-haired, grim-faced visage of an older man at his side. The paled cream skin and shadow-ringed eyes lent a few questions about this person and his origins, but more alarming was the pearly metal handgun lazing in his left hand.

And then, he opened up with an otherwise completely plain, if somewhat droll-voiced statement: "So, what's going on here? Some kind of party?"

[Ururu Kyuuei]

Ururu’s attention finally broke when Desco joined in. Part of her that was warmed towards a battle cooled as the girl gained in height in a most impressive manner. Which Ururu thought had to be particularly intimidating when the tentacles began to grow like one of her fantasy-

Right. Focus.

Desco was more than just tentacles. Desco was a kid. A kid with a particular set of skills, who could help her with this issue of the asshole.

This was an idiot who needed to be DED dead, if his stupidity grew any more incurable as a condition. Also as the man continued to maintain a high volume Ururu became more and more certain DED was in future. And then a second or so, her words actually meant something to himalbeit momentarily. Just for a spark of time he paused, considering the words and then- Well that was before Desco had gone Final Boss on him.

The kid definitely had potential for intimidation, just not timing which made Ururu’s attempts at logicking the man mostly impossible from there on

Logic.

Something this man clearly lacked in any fashion what so ever, but could recognize it when spoon fed the stuff

Most of the time Ururu felt its also subtle absence of such forces. Now it was right in her grasp. But with how things were normally progressing, any further use would be forgotten in favor of likely blind panic, or more dangerous tactical self-preservation technique. That was something she could also work with if need be…

And then just like that another appeared. One she equally didn’t know, but recognized him by mannerism

And he knew how to talk. Whatever bit of anger Ururu had was snuffed out by this individual. One line seemed like all he needed.

Not that she was complaining. With any luck her quarry would live long enough to face them in the tournament. Herself whole, him hopefully broken

“A lets fix your gun in public while its loaded party, apparently” Ururu said with a single sharp tone.

[Schwi Dola]

The goblin was starting to make a little more sense, but it still didn't make that much sense. What he described was just an accidental situation. It was the kind of scene where you said sorry and moved on, because that is what good little girls do. Desco might be a Final Boss but she was also a little sister and knew her manners. It wasn't a place to overreact and start trading quips.

Then mr. Silver hair came along in a cool, saying calm voice. Like an adult coming along to break up kids fighting. The long cloak and gloves, pale skin and white hair, if Desco had to guess he was a vampire, or at least some kind of demon. He dressed like one, or some kind of video game protagonist. "It was just an accident so this is where we should say sorry and make up to eachother right?"

[Corporal Light]

Ballad could just feel the tension resonating off of the people in front of him. Metaphorically speaking, it was thick enough to cut with a knife. Failing that, it would metaphorically speaking also try to slice it up into itty bitty little pieces with a friggin tension sword. To be honest, he really wasn't going to like getting into a fight like this, especially since this... Desco thing is staring at him with... a lot of yellow eyes. The eyebrows on Ballad's head did not move, though close inspection of his eyes could reveal that he was thinking. Thinking about his next move. Now that he actually was thinking, he realized that his former exit strategy couldn't have possibly worked. The.. Desco thing would have knocked him over or crippled him before he could even get close to the range. Alright, new plan. Still gonna kick the kid first, but instead of hitting the... other kid who looks exactly like the other kid, I'll just shoot at the Desco and ignore the other kid. The other kid doesn't look like that much of a threat. Hopefully, doing that would give him enough time to reach the range and possibly escape into the crowd.

Ballad let out a sigh, closing his eyes for a few moments. Alright, lets recap. Step one, kick the kid. Step two, shoot one of the eyes of the Desco. He could do that easily, especially at this range. Step three, get to the range. Sounds like a plan for the ages. Should be, considering I just made it all up in less than thirty seconds flat. Some kind of new fucking record. Opening his eyes, he sees the kid and the Desco were still more or less in the same positions, still angry and looking like she was ready to punch him. Should be as quick as I can with her, though, especially if she is anything like this... Desco. Deciding on his course of actions, he was about to act.

"So, what's going on here? Some kind of party?"

Suddenly, he felt his right shoulder sink slightly, as if a force was pressing up against it. As this happened, he felt something pass by his right arm, a few inches underneath his revolver. Letting in an intake of breath, his right thumb twitches towards the hammer of his revolver, almost cocking it. However, he manages to stop himself just in time. But Ballad was honestly getting pretty annoyed with people surprising him like this, as one day someone is going to do it, and he's going to shoot them. Not here, though, mostly because he doesn't want to miss and potentially hit someone who has literally nothing to do with the situation.

Sighing, Ballad rolls his eyes towards his right, getting a good look at the person sneaking up on him this time. What he saw was, for lack of a better term... well, he didn't have a better term. In fact, he didn't have a term at all. He had no way to describe what was in front of him. The man was pale, almost as white as the snow on his home planet. And his eyes.... they had the look of a crazy person. Or was it the way they looked like they were surrounded by shadows? Whatever the case, this guy was simply disturbing. Finally, a term to describe people that wasn't stupid, impressionable, or chaotic. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if this guy was a chaotic. Well, shit, there goes any real reason to listen to this guy.

However, the thing that was most alarming about the man was the weapon in his left hand. It... looked to be a gun, but what kind of gun looks like that? It had no rotating cylinder, and it didn't appear to have a hammer to cock the weapon. So how exactly was this man going to use the gun if he planned to use it? He couldn't cock a hammer to fire the thing because there WAS no hammer, and he couldn't reload it because there wasn't a MEANS TO RELOAD IT. I swear, I'm the only goddamn gunsmith in existence who knows how to make a gun.

Taking a few seconds to get out of his thoughts on concentrate on what the man just said, he responds with "Did you... seriously think it was a smart plan to be walking up to people while they are waving a gun around? I get that you also have a gun, and therefore were equally matched sorta, but I would also not think this time to be joking. A guy holding a gun in his hand isn't exactly a 'funny' situation, either," as he stares at him. He was about to respond to his question after expressing his gripes when the kid did it for him. He had to admit, even though the kid bumped into him, she had a damn good point. He might as well give her that. Besides, he didn't get this far not noticing when he had fucked up. Not that he fucked up that often. Hell, this was his first fuck up so far.

Looking back to the kid, he says "I'll give you that. A gun in public isn't always the safest thing on earth. However, there is something I have that most others don't." Slowly moving his arm up and over the man's head, he lowers the gun slightly, keeping his fingers off the trigger as he lowers it to around his chest area. The barrel was aimed at the ground, and the kid could easily get a good look at it. "What I have that most others don't is that I made this gun. I don't know about this guy," he says, gesturing a thumb at the man leaning on his shoulder, "but I know this weapon inside and out. How everything works. Thus, I'm more than qualified to be operating it in potentially unorthodox situations like right now. And I WAS aware of the potential danger, in case your ears didn't work, because I was shouting at people to pay attention and not bump into me." Ballad ends his sentence with a matter-of-factly tone of voice, keeping an eye on the kid. After a few more seconds, the Desco started talking. He still couldn't understand why she couldn't just say 'I' or 'me' or 'we' like a normal person. Though I'll take her word for what its worth. Even though she is a kid, it's probably smart to just say I was sorry and not invoke the wrath of a potential god.

Slowly parting his coat, he slides his revolver into its leather holster, the holster itself hidden in shroud of darkness behind his coat. As he does this, he keeps talking. "Though your friend has a point, I'll give her that. I'll be a man and apologize. Just don't fucking walk up to somebody working on a gun when he's warned a lot of others already to not interrupt him. At that point, if you do get hurt, you have no one to blame but yourself."

[Ururu Kyuuei]

Ururu wasn’t convinced even as the man apparently was pressured by peers into acting like an adult. Which was seriously depressing.

This man from appearance was at least double her age if he followed the human standard scale. Maybe a bit younger. Hard to tell with him being green and possibly not even human. Desco though seemed to be proof that most thing her followed the human model seemed to be more or less universal though. Or she could be the exception that proved the rule.

But this stuff didn’t really matter.

Anyone as old as Ururu, or older had no excuse to act the way this man had. And it wasn’t exactly Ururu’s fault that she had no idea how a gun worked beyond adapting the principles of Crossbows to such a thing. And more than anything his shouting had been incomprehensible string of words which barely sounded like language. Still this was an experience that didn’t bear to be repeated ever again. As Ururu probably wouldn’t ever stand to let it be repeated.

This hadn’t been a pleasant experience and that displeasure was still in her face with a sneer, but she did give one very stiff nod. Because like it or not it was expected of her to give some sort of positive reaction, such as acknowledging this honor, though Ururu could not for the life of her detect any sense of such.

The heavy tilt of her head caused her visor to displace itself from her forehead upon her nose, its weight landing awkwardly at an angle. A light move adjusted it so it fully covered her eyes behind its silver and brass encased stone. Once in place the view screen came online allowing her to see clearly again along with the Dataverse connection of the area.

As always a good strong signal presented an opportunity among opportunities. This one was a chance to snap the man’s likeness into her picture folder along with the white haired fellow and a good view of their guns. Research about these folks and see who she was dealing with.

Maybe she was making excuses for her own poor handling of the situation but the faults if they there on her end were minor at least. Which meant more was expected of her and she had to reconsider her earlier acknowledgement.

She hadn’t even come in physical contact with him or his device; his own butter fingers were more to blame than anything except maybe his personality to which there was no cure. And for that she found her next act… quite unspeakable.

Ururu blinked once invisibly before her face screwed up in distaste before saying, “apology accepted.” She then followed it up with a slight bow. It was little in the way of response as she had basically ignored every world he said, well not ignored, she had listened very carefully, however she had also chosen to not respond most of his words which rang false.

It left a bad sensation in mouth, like mint that had somehow gone sour. A corruption of something that should be agreeable.

It was an affront to her.

But then again despite her misgivings about her career path, being a shinobi was about bowing in submission even as you readied a knife to slice some lordling’s ligaments. After all when one appeared at their weakest, they often were the most dangerous and most underestimated.

That wasn’t an opportunity to just throw away.

[Corporal Light]

In all honesty, Ballad could care less if the kid accepted his apology, let alone listened to him. In his own arrogance and breed of self-confidence, he knew he had won. Now, whether he had won or not is up to the interpretation of the people who witnessed the argument take place, but to those with an ego like Ballad, it was easy to win. Hell, unless he was losing, he was always winning. Him destroying a group of goons back at the white realm proved that. And, in all honesty, even if this kid wants to hurt him, she was just a kid.. hopefully. He still wasn't sure, but the looks she gave him, combined with the weird Desco thing popping up out of a little girl... I dunno. He should probably be careful. If this girl was like Desco, he could be in a world of pain.

Looking to his right, he sees the man with the weird looking gun was still leaning up against him. He still couldn't understand why the guy thought it was a smart idea to walk up to someone waving a gun around with his own gun, and even worse, act so sarcastic about it. If he were to place this guy anywhere in the list of three people in the universe, it'd be stupid. Though something told him that this guy might not be all stupid. More like chaotic, considering his eyes. I mean, holy shit, his eyes looked like someone got a black marker and drew circles around his eyes. Or at the very least and this hair white through some other means.

Rolling his eyes down to the gun in the man's hand, he says "Anyways... put the gun away, will you? You're probably making the.." Ballad takes a few moments to look at Desco, seeing her still in her final boss form. He finishes his sentence with "kids.. nervous," as he turns his head back to the man. He really didn't want to start shit with this guy, especially since he had a gun AND he was,in to the Colosseum. But if worse came to worse, and this guy really was a chaotic, or a fucking idiot, he'll have to fight back. He wouldn't have an issue with it.

Spekaing of issues, Ballad never quite understood the stigma of fighting, and possibly killing children. I mean, sure, he can understand excessive force, especially if you break a kids arm because the kid just wasn't shutting the fuck up. But can you honestly blame someone for blowing a kids head off with a gun if they start getting violent, particularly when they have a knife or a gun themselves? But nope. Some families worried sick for their kids invented that stigma, citing how wrong it was to hurt someone so young.

Bitch please. In reality, no one is so forgiving to not kill your kid because he is a kid and had 'so much to live for.' Would a snow beast not eat a child when it was hungry, and give a shit about it? Hell, be was certain snow beasts sometimes ate their young if they were hungry enough. What about nature, or better yet, snowstorms? They aren't going to stop because a kid walked,outside without actual, suitable clothing for it. If they an do it, why can't we?

Too bad no one could read Ballad's mind. Or at least he hoped no one could. It was a rather dark place, born from a lifetime on an unforgiving world, and possibly even more.

[Simon]

The green-skinned man returned Dante's sidelong glance with about as similar of a reaction Dante himself would've given in the same situation. So, that put his face somewhere between confusion and disgust. Though the nephilim fought to keep his attention diverted, he felt the stranger's eyes train upon Ebony, viewing it carefully. Or, possibly, he was viewing it scornfully. It was hard to tell without an eye out, but the red-coat needed to watch for the young ones in front of him.

Young-looking ones, rather, which was capable of deceiving the mind. Take the shape of a little girl and look mostly innocent, but actually hold the secrets to great power. Only one of the trio there actually seemed to be the secretive one, and it was the shabby-looking girl with a futuristic visor that cycled through expressions like a photo roll. The other similar girl behind her lacked that shiftiness and was just idly holding a child's armful of food, while the honest-to-god demonic child took no hesitation in being forefront with her emotions. At least the latter wasn't too violent, as could be expected of her form.

"Uh-huh," Dante passively registered the gunsmith's comments, while behind Dante's ears he was actually somewhat offended. It sounded like that just by looking at him, this green-skinned man boldly assumed Dante to be some kind of funny guy, or else someone who couldn't possibly be serious about this sort of confrontation being a 'party'.

The Sons of Sparda tended to have shewed ideas of what could be considered a 'party'. It was almost like an inside joke, except they both went the routines with each other in such deadpan as they both hated the others' decisions. Truly, a devil's sense of humor.

When the gunsmith flaunted his professional skills with weapons, jabbing a thumb at Dante in reference to his questionable firearm knowledge, the nephilim simply rolled his eyes. Pursing his lips to exhale an exasperated breath, the red-coat hesitated to remove himself from the man's shoulder and instead began to idly spin his black handgun. Mostly a timekiller, seeing as how this potentially-violent situation was already slowing to a stop, but it could absently double as his own flourish of experienced gun play.

The grass-colored fellow finally returned his revolver to the holster, apparently gotten out all his steam and actually willing to have some reconciliation for his actions. Not much, though. To Dante's mild surprise only, the shabby girl accepted the apology with a bow that compromised the equipment on her face. From the previous three looks on her face, she had been about two steps away from destroying everything this stranger lived for. But maybe that was just a phase. Or maybe she had something deeper in mind...

Whatever the case, the green gunsmith shot a look at Dante and finally asked him to put the handgun away. Apparently, he was just now worried about the firearms scaring the 'kids'. "Of course," the Son of Sparda answered with a strange amount of pep for his voice, and finally hoisted himself off of the man's shoulder. Twirling the gun into its holster at his side, Dante continued vaguely to the whole group, "I wouldn't want to make the likes of you have a tantrum."

"...But I guess you want to save all that gusto for the tournament," the nephilim curtly made an explanation, after having made a brief pause to let the insult sink in. The tiniest hint of a smile cracked at his pale lips, and in the next instant, the devil hunter turned aside on a dime, the tails of his longcoat swishing up at the gunsmith like a noble's disdain. "Fair enough, I say. I have a feeling you're going to need it."

He began to pace away, diagonally from the two-sided confrontation, and turned his head back to hail the whole of them, "Have fun with- whatever you're doing. I'll see you at the tournament." And with that, Dante pushed himself back into the throng of commoners and outsiders alike, disappearing in moments.

That felt good. That felt right. That... felt like him. So sinful, and yet so him. Some sort of guttural chuckling noise escaped from his throat, garnering Dante a couple of strange glances as he passed through.

Maybe this would actually be fun, after all.

[Corporal Light]

Oh thank merciful fucking God, if he does exist. Finally, someone who actually listened when he said something and didn't backtalk. Well, to be honest, the fact he still talked like this was the highlight of his day wasn't exactly normal in and of itself, but he at least had half a brain to be able to do what he said. Odd, though. Why is this guy acting like that? He isn't taking this all that seriously. The kids were worried about the fact that he was holding a gun, or at the very least toying with it. But now he sees a grown man with white hair and odd looking eyes and a weird looking gun act like this was the time of his life almost. He wasn't too sure how to respond to that. Most of his life, he hadn't exactly found people who spoke very lively. Even the most optimistic people in Frozen Over never spoke a tone like that. Weird.

Feeling the man lean off of his shoulder, he lets out a sigh, moving his hands to his coat pockets. He was glad the guy was off his shoulder at least. Invading his privacy like that. He still couldn't get over how the guy just showed up the way he did: A gun in his hand, leaning up against his shoulder, and asking a sarcastic question with a voice that never, not for a moment, made it feel like the man took the situation seriously. He had little to no possibly way to know about Dante's humor. Hell, he didn't really know anything at all about Dante, just that his first impression wasn't that impressive at all.

Alright, time to snap out of it. The guy with the white hair is talking. Rolling his eyes towards Dante, he looks at him as he begins to talk, occasionally taking side glances at the three children. At least they calmed down. But he really did need to be careful. Even if the Desco thing wasn't all that powerful, he had no idea what was going on inside the first child's man. The one that called him 'Oni-san.' What the hell is an Oni-san, anyway? Some kind of insult? Whatever it is, he had no real reason to ask about it, seeing as the kid was probably in a bad mood anyway. But seriously, if the kid was anything like the Desco being, then he should probably learn not to shout at kids. Hell, he should probably not underestimate ANYONE from now on. Never know if someone else like Desco exists.

Listening to the man, he catches him twirling his gun before sliding it into his own holster. Show off. Impressive, sure, but it would be more impressive if he could fire as well as he could. Though he probably could, judging from him showing off. Again, he couldn't underestimate this guy. Could be another Desco. As the man talked to the group, he lets off a small chuckle, smiling a little behind his red scarf. This quickly goes away when the white haired man mentions the tournament. Shit, did he know? Did he look at the list and see his name? Hold on, that wouldn't make sense. How would he even know his name? He didn't say it. Nor did his thoughts say 'Ballad' each time he conjured one up. No one thinks their name before their thoughts, that's just stupid.

Whatever the case, Ballad kept his eyes on the man as he made his insult. If his eyebrows could move, he would be making a frown. Noticing the smile, he lets out a quiet sigh, rolling his eyes as he shakes his head. As he does this, he feels the tails of the man's longcoat swish up against him, leaning backwards a little bit as the man walks past him. As the man says his own farewell, he replies with a cautious "Sure... the tournament.." before turning his head to look back at the kids. He locks eyes with Ururu, remaining silent as seconds go by. Finally, he looks back up, seeing Desco still in her final form. He then proceeds to walk to the right of the group, moving his hands out of his pocket to push through the crowd that was slowly dispersing.

[Schwi Dola]

Desco watched as the two men that they had been interacting with started to disperse. The green goblin guy was unpleasant. A weak minion monster of some kind that was violent. Expected of any demon in the Netherverse. The piglike Orcs could be equally as stubborn and obstinate. But Desco was not here in a Final Boss capacity, she hadn't really sought any Final Boss objectives on the Omniverse. Apparently she had taken over Earth already which was the purpose of her existence. At least that was one of them. Really her primary purpose was to be a little sister to her Big Sis, Fuka. Since she arrived she lost much of her power and that was the general goal she had, to regain it. The other man, Dante, was more mysterious. Desco wanted to see more of him, he seemed nice but held secrets. Was he a ninja? Maybe he would play with Desco later in the tournament.

With the goblin gone, Desco relaxed. Yogsothoth faded away and her tail shrank and slipped back under her dress. She looked back at Ururu. "Let's try some food!" Desco skipped over to the hot dog stand she had been eyeing and pulls out a bunch of gold coins. "I want a hot dog... and a small cotton candy!"

[Ururu Kyuuei]

Ururu broke off her glare and her face grew back, if slightly, into the girl she had been before all this started. Her mind was still going a hundred miles an hour with the issues that could evolve from this. They had mentioned the Tournament.

That made her smile if only a fraction of such. Had they hadn’t mentioned it, well that would have just been dull.

Shaking her head, Ururu sent he blades of her hair tumbling along with braid with it. Her body seemed to relax as well.

Food right, why she had dragged her new friend here, or was it possibly the other way around? Either way food was important both for mental health and the fact that this was a growing body. Again. She needed to keep it healthy long enough for her to switch into something more controllable.

Ururu was not looking forward to dealing with any issues related to puberty.

So yeah.

Food

She took a deep breath caught Hikaru’s eye and both turned to be dragged off for Hot Dogs and Cotton Candy. One of which she recognized.

“Desco-chan, these Hot Dogs… they aren’t made from dogs are they?” Ururu asked warily.