~Status~
Location: Kefka
Time: Plot Start! Mid-day on a Monday
Theme: Riot - Three Day's Grace
~Status~

"Okay, Ekcol, here's the plan. You're going to start a riot in Wilgrove Square. Mizugusuri will be your bait. Mizu... look your best."
"Hai."
"... I wish we had two more people for this, but we don't. Ekcol, you need to hold the attention of the city for at least fifteen minutes."
"I can think of a way or two."
"Great. Okay everyone, let's get to work."

---

Wilgrove Square was one of the main marketplaces in Kefka. It was bordered on three sides by a Bank, the city Archives, and a Museum, and the "free" edge was actually a staging platform to wait for the lifts from level to level of the treebound city. As such, it was usually packed with all manner of people from tourist to politician, student to researching professor. It was this crowd that would be exploited today.

Ekcol was trying on a new form today, one she hadn't tried before, that of a huge, imposing male Bangaa, a monk of some kind. This caused her to get her fair share of dark looks; it was doubtful that the viera would ever forgive the Bangaa for the old wars. Mizu, on the other hand, was dressed in her ordinary garb, including the mask, with only her viera ears to show her race.

She collided with Ekcol, the signal that everyone was ready. Ekcol, in response, lifted her off the ground by the back of her neck.
"Wrong move rabbit head!"
Giving a mighty swing, the Bangaa Ekcol through Mizu quite far away. Just as quickly, those in the square who thought themselves tough were already rushing toward him.

"Hey, you! Stupid lizard!"
"You're mine, Scaly!"
"You picked the wrong girl to punt, you spineless coward!"

On the opposite side of the square, a blonde man in comfortable, billowing white clothing grinned at seeing this. He pushed himself away from the wall and began walking towards the commotion.

The man was unfortunate, as Ekcol had just thrown a rather overweight white mage in his direction.

Meanwhile...

Johnny Depp was a security guard working at the archives. He patrol was usually fairly boring no matter what time of day it was, and today was no exception. Unfortunately, it had just gotten extremely interesting. As he started to turn the corner of the corridor, heading away from the government's records room, a strong hand took him by the shoulder. He was spun around, slamming his back silently against the wall. The blade that pierced his chest blocked the passage of air to his lungs, precluding the possibility of even the quietest shout for help. Before he died, he barely even had time to make out the gold kanji on the black, faceless mask of the man who had killed him.

The bank was having it's own problem. The manager stepped down into the corridor below the main building, headed toward the vault itself. He was greeted by the sight of both vault guards rather mutilated corpses. Before he could call for the alarm, he felt a powerful arm wrap around his neck, pulling him close as another, gloved hand closed over his mouth.

"Shh..."

The one GOOD thing about the afternoon was that, so far, nothing truly terrible had happened at the museum yet.

The man's image flickered, and the white mage seemed to pass through him and hit the ground behind. He came closer to Ekcol.

"I dunno," said the blonde man loudly, "I think she deserved it."

Several passive bystanders now seemed to get over their inhibitions, and converged on him.

Ekcol chuckled, ducking the swing of one enraged fencer. As she came back up, she took another masculine form. The ever-so familliar human one, with the long purple hair that blew in a non-existant wind.

"Oh, ****, it's Ekcol!"
"Someone get the SC in here!"
With a chuckle, Ekcol took both speakers out with a thrown knife, "Nope, too slow."
Meanwhile, Mizu rolled back to her feet, and very quietly started to back out of the crowd, throwing Shell in the general direction of Ekcol and his/her new friend.

***

In the archives, the black-masked ninja was rifling through a drawer of birth-death records. Every now and then he would stop, pull one out, and replace it with another card from his belt pouch. After four such repetitions, he slid the drawer closed, locking it with his skeleton key before heading toward the window. Nothing like insurance.


36...11...1...42...

The vault door clicked, easing open slightly. With minimal effort, the bank ninja twisted the head of the manager sideways, snapping it and giving him a relatively painless death.

"Iko da."

He reached out to the handles, hauling the door open, Such a profitable distraction.

Abruptly, a large section of the museum, a collection of the artworks of a young school class, along with examples of semi-ancient furniture (both things nobody cared about that much) caught fire. At once, it was noticed by a guard, who called as many over as possible to fight the blaze. They all missed the ninja hiding in a display of statues of famous assassins, who, as soon as the coast was clear, silently ran up the nearby staircase, Now for the Main Event.

The blonde man moved easily among his opponents, not bothering to draw either the long sabre sheathed at his side or the long pointed staff on his back; he seemed just as comfortable hand-to-hand.

Abruptly, a viera man who had received a foot to the face drew an elegant broadsword and swung. In a flash, the sabre was drawn and had parried the broadsword, knocking its wielder off balance, and the viera was knocked flat by a swift kick to the neck.

The blonde man took a step closer to Ekcol, then suddenly raised a foot and donkey-kicked backwards, catching an unsuspecting half-viera in the chest. "It's only right that, since I know your name, you should know mine. Eirakin. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ekcol blocked a blade with his arm, something only a man of wax could do. He then jerked down, removing an unfairly large portion of his "skin" in exchange for the stolen weapon, though, to be honest, he was the same colour all the way through.

"Not really the time, I think." he muttered, before removing the head of the offending viera.

And with the first true DEATH of the riot, all hell was starting to break loose.

***

The bank ninja had just finished loading up two large bags of gil (rather than the usual SC scrip) when the one in the black face showed up, taking a bag and strapping to to his back.

As they started back out of the bank, swords drawn and without even the pretense of stealth, the bank ninja looked over, "Shiageru?"
"Hai."

They walked out into the square, unopposed, as most of the guards had ran out to try and quell the riot. However, it was actually important for them to be noticed, and it was fortunate that someone looked at them.

"Hey! The Batsu no Katana are robbing the bank!"

In response to that, the two broke into a run as would be expected, sprinting for the lift platforms.

The problem with locks is that they are fore honest people. In this room, directly above the first, historically-interesting blueprints and designs were kept for safety. In glass cases. Finding the one he wanted, the museum ninja broke it with his elbow, wrapped the pattern around the sheath of his Katana, and turned, lighting another case on fire.

In a room full of dry paper, the flames spread quickly, and soon it would be impossible to tell whether or not one was even stolen, let alone it's identity. As the ninja left, he was stealthy, and vanished by a back door, disapearing to the next lowest level of the town.

Eirakin shrugged. "Your loss."

He continued fighting, refraining from spilling blood where he could. Once, at spotting a number of guards on top of nearby buildings loading up rifles, he made a gesture at them, sending a wave of destructive light energy. Those that weren't killed by it went blind, and with luck, didn't fall off the roof.

Ekcol, with his keen eyes, saw Mizugusuri nod before vanishing over the edge of the platform.

"Oh, time to go." he sighed, "Such a shame."

He vanished into shadows, whispering in the ears of the partner-in-crime, "Outskirts. Three hours."

Eirakin, still the center of focus to those who had survived the first few minutes of the riot, gave them his most charming smile and disappeared in a little flash of light.

---safely away---

It was a simple matter to distort his appearance to others by manipulating what light their eyes saw; now, Eirakin's usual handsome countenance was replaced by a shorter, fatter man with greasy black hair, bright blue eyes turned an unappealing brown, and a pockmarked face, wearing the clothing of a noble. He hobbled along, looking for a way to pass the time.

~Three Hours Later~

It was nothing more than a hut, really, on the forest floor, and well outside the usual patrol range of cities, effectively putting it outside of Kefka's eyes, and making it a brilliant place to divvy up the loot.

Three of the Ninja and Ekcol were already there, meaning that only the one from the Museum and Eirakin were left to arrive.

The ugly man with the greasy hair hobbled inside, looked around and gasped, then flashed away. In his place stood a grinning Eirakin, who was rolling his shoulders. "A bad posture is so distasteful."

The door closed behind him, as the last ninja stepped into the room. As with the others, his clothing had changed to a dark green, but he wore a white mask with a red Kanji on it.

Ekcol nodded, "Moe, you made it."
"Thanks for the concern..." he turned his masked face to Mizugusuri, "What was the pull?"
"A little over a million."
"... Nice."

He nudged the loot with a toe, "Ou, did you get the cards?"
In response, the black-masked ninja tossed over a bundle of the stolen documents, bundled together with twine, "We died five years ago."
"What was the cause?"
"Hit by a blimp."

Pause for chuckles, "... Before we divide this up... Ekcol, are you in or are you out?"
"Out. The Judges really hate it when I join clans."
"... Fair enough. What about you, Eirakin?"

"I'm not sure if my talents would be particularly beneficial to your group as whole, but I have a proposition. My friends are few and far between in this world. Would you consider an... alliance of sorts?"

"The Batsu no katan is not in the business of forming alliances, I am afraid. We're more than willing to protect those who serve our interests, but there are no promises."

Eirakin smiled at this, the first true smile he had had in a while. "Good, else I would have thought you fools. Now, how shall we divide the spoils?"

"... Six from a million...."
Mizugusuri bowed slightly, "Respect, I will not take a cut."
"... Are you sure?"
"Yes. Most of you will give most of your gold to me for services rendered eventually anyway."
The man with the scorpion mon on his chest, the one from the bank, laughed, "This is a truth. So, a Five from a million."
"Yes."

They set about counting, and soon, two-hundred gil worth of coins was in a smaller duffle-bag, and another two-hundred in another small bag, for each of the out-clanners who helped them.

Eirakin hefted his sack. "Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen, and those of unconfirmed gender," he shot an amused glance at Eckol, and walked for the door.

They all bowed, except Ekcol, who simply smirked. Moe ignored the wax creature, tossing a pair of scrolls, almost lazily, to Ou (the man from the archives) and Mizugusuri. The ninjas caught them almost as lazily.

"Your next assignments, kids. Shimai, you're going to help me take the rest of this back to the stronghold."
"Hai, Kai-sama."

The two shouldered their bags as Ou and Mizu left, and as they were leaving, Shimai nodded one last time to Ekcol, "See you around."
"Carry the fortunes."

And just like that, Ekcol was gone, nothing more than a lingering shadow.