We part ways with my neighbor and Futarishizuka in the staff area beside the main stage and stay behind to wait. Our job is to provide backup if something goes wrong.
Abaddon is with me, as are Robot Girl and Makeup. In front of us, one of Robot Girl’s semitransparent displays floats in midair. It shows the main stage from above the audience seating, allowing us to keep an eye on the proceedings. Thanks to it, we have a vivid understanding of the situation even from backstage.
“Hold it right there, Demonic Middle Manager!”
“I will do no such thing, Masked Sailor.”
The two of them burst out from behind the audience and run toward the stage. As they move, the display shifts from the cameras positioned at the wings to one behind my neighbor, who stands in the middle of the stage.
A man is visible behind the curtain off to the side. He’s holding a gun. Next to him are staff members, probably the hostages. He must be the terrorist.
“Sasaki did a good job getting close to the guy,” remarks Makeup.
“Abaddon, can you go and back him up?” I ask.
“I can’t leave my Disciple’s side. Not in a situation like this.”
We all discussed what would happen onstage beforehand. As planned, my neighbor uses the fake laser beam effect to withdraw to the edge of the stage.
Suddenly, Robot Girl speaks. “Mother, Elder Sister, Elder Brother, I’m detecting a disturbing response in the motion of atmospheric particles. Something optically indiscernible is traveling in our direction from a two-o’-clock position relative to the youngest daughter. As a mechanical life-form, I recommend we immediately assume alert status.”
“Huh?” Not a moment later, Makeup floats up into the air.
Considering the situation, it has to be a psychic attack.
“Abaddon, intercept whatever’s heading toward us!”
“Sure thing, buddy!”
Could it be some kind of telekinesis? My neighbor told me psychic powers that make things float are relatively commonplace. If the psychic is of a high rank, they will be extremely hard to deal with, and considering they’re venturing into enemy territory, they almost certainly are.
“Elder Sister, the youngest daughter wishes to aid you.”
“If you’re willing to help, then go for it.”
“Acknowledged.”
Robot Girl nods, and a moment later, there’s a loud bang followed by a flash of light. A beam strikes down like a lightning bolt. It shocks us all. But what is it?
Immediately, people appear out of thin air.
“Rgh!”
There are three of them, hands joined, huddled together with us backstage. One of them falls to his knee and collapses—a man of medium height and build, probably in his twenties. His looks are ordinary, and he’s wearing jeans and a black down jacket. I don’t see any wounds on him. He seems to have lost consciousness; he lies on the floor facedown and doesn’t move at all.
Apparently, Robot Girl did something.
“Shit, I knew it wouldn’t work!” spits one of the other two. “Let’s get outta here!”
A moment later, they disappear, leaving the one who collapsed behind. They must have decided it would be too hard to take him along and abandoned him.
“Target signals have disappeared from our coordinates. They have moved elsewhere.”
A person can only possess one psychic power at a time. Applying that rule to our situation suggests the intruders had three powers: telekinesis, camouflage, and teleportation. Considering the situation, the one Robot Girl struck must have been the one using camouflage.
When our enemies withdraw, Makeup falls back to the ground, landing skillfully on her feet. “Hey,” she says to Robot Girl. “What was that flash just now?”
“Mother, that was a nonlethal directional energy weapon. It is designed to disable medium- to large-size mammals, such as humans. During normal usage, it delivers a nonlethal wound. It also leaves very little in the way of aftereffects. I developed it to help fend off Grandmother.”
Apparently, it was a weapon loaded onto one of the terminals she brought to the event. The grandmother sure had it rough dealing with such a naughty granddaughter.
“Motives aside, that’s a super handy weapon. You really caught me by surprise!”
“Elder Brother, your younger sister feels joy at your continued high appraisal of mechanical life-forms.”
The fallen psychic is completely still. According to Robot Girl, he’s not actually dead. And if we want to find out who these terrorists are, it’d be better to capture them than to kill them. I glance at Makeup; she’s already talking to someone on the phone.
“I’m sorry to make you do all the work, but do you know where they ran?” I ask Robot Girl.
“Elder Sister, I have detected something via the onstage cameras.” As she speaks, the midair display moves in front of us as though gliding along the air itself. It’s almost comical.
On the screen, I can see the two psychics who just fled at the sides of the stage. Are they trying to recover the one my neighbor is dealing with?
But in that case, why did they abandon the camouflage-using psychic so easily? I bet it has something to do with the power of the man onstage.
The shrill noise from backstage only lasted a split second before two people appeared in the wings. The others contacted me via my earphone to update me.
“Two psychics are heading your way, mister!”
“Sasaki, they’re a teleporter and a high-ranking telekinetic!”
They must have tried messing with the girls, then had the tables turned on them. Albeit fragmentary, I’d heard some of their exchange backstage via the earphone, helping me put together what was going on.
“My guess is they’re trying to stay in front of the audience to keep us from attacking them,” suggested Miss Hoshizaki.
“Please let me go over there, mister!”
“You all stay where you are, please. It seems the psychic on the stage can influence people’s minds. I suspect he can knock you out with just a glance.”
“Wait, then are you going to be okay, mister?”
“I believe there’s an upper limit on how many targets he can affect at once, so I think I’ll be fine by myself.”
Otherwise, he would have hijacked my mind at the same time as Ms. Futarishizuka’s. In fact, it was possible he was already in my mind—but then he wouldn’t be setting her against me like this.
My guess was that the enemy had decided that, as a psychic, I was inconsequential. After all, everyone in the world was treating me as the fake family’s weakest link.
But if the girls showed up now, I didn’t know how he’d react. If he somehow took over Type Twelve or Miss Hoshizaki, we’d have an even bigger problem. And if the terrorists took them away, we’d lose all our leverage.