“This way!” the hostage psychic called out, launching into a run.
He had escaped the hands of the Demonic Middle Manager, thanks to the actions of a renegade Masked Sailor. I wouldn’t be able to fence him in with my gun—not while dealing with her assault. If I carelessly pulled the trigger and hit an audience member, that would be the end of Winterfest.
The two who had just shown up in the wings joined the hostage and made to flee the stage. It would look to anyone else like the Masked Sailor had just liberated the hostages.
Incidentally, I recognized one of the two newcomers. He was a bureau member I’d been told was kidnapped at today’s event and had gone missing. His psychic power was teleportation—he could warp to other locations within a set distance, capping out at a few dozen meters. But in a crowd like this, that was incredibly handy. A few warps, and I’d lose sight of them.
“Found the target backstage,” said the telekinetic. “Can you do anything with your power?”
“Don’t be stupid,” barked the mind-stealer. “We don’t even know if my power works on mechanical life-forms. Why the hell do you think we were asking to negotiate? Engaging her in combat now would be suicide.”
Both of the men were speaking in a foreign language I couldn’t identify. I wouldn’t have made out their conversation at all if not for Type Twelve’s translator device.
Unfortunately, I had no time to deal with them. I had my hands full with Ms. Futarishizuka. Capturing them now would be impossible.
“Futarishizuka’s coming at you for real, isn’t she? Are you sure you’ll be all right, Sasaki?”
“I’m managing to hold out. If they throw anything else at me, though, I won’t be able to handle it.”
I dodged and used my barrier spell to block her punches and kicks. It probably looked like a scene from an action film, where the actors stopped right before making contact. Good thing my colleague’s psychic power lent itself so well to stage acting.
I heard Type Twelve mumble something. She was probably watching us via the cameras.
Then, a moment later, I heard my neighbor speak up. She sounded confused. “Huh? Wait, what’s this?”
“You handle the voice and motions. I will handle coordinate translation and attacks.”
“You’re putting her onstage?”
“I will utilize the directional energy weapon from before. Your physical form does not need to be present.”
I could hear them talking through the earphone, though I wasn’t sure what they were doing. It sounded like they’d come up with some kind of plan.
“…All right. I’m ready when you are.”
“Thank you for your consent, Elder Sister. Now deploying Ochiba Kareki.”
Deploying? What does she mean by that?
The question lingered in my mind for only a moment before the event venue underwent a remarkable change. Something flew onto the stage from behind and began to fly over everyone in the audience.
It was partially transparent from behind—a 3D model projected with midair displays, perhaps? It showed a pretty girl I was now quite familiar with: my neighbor’s VTuber persona Ochiba Kareki. It seemed as though Type Twelve was projecting her into the venue with the help of her terminals and pods.
“Wait, what the heck?!” “Are you seeing this?! It’s crazy!” “Oh, it’s that girl, right? She made a stir online.” “Couldn’t they have gone with someone else?” “Uh, this is kind of incredible.” “How are they projecting her up there?” “Look at how smooth her movements are!” “Isn’t it, I don’t know, bad that we have a full view of her panties?”
The audience began to cheer.
You might expect something like this at an amusement park attraction, but this was a makeshift stage set up in an exhibition hall. There was no equipment visible nearby capable of projecting images like this. The performance was made possible only by the mechanical life-form’s super-science, and it was producing a lot of excitement.
I had a feeling we’d be excusing this as a climactic unveiling of some cutting-edge technology developed by OtherPro.
As the crowd watched, Ochiba Kareki—flitting around in the sky like a bird—eventually stopped in midair a few meters above the audience.
She turned back toward the stage and glared at the terrorists.
“You depend on the goodwill of others but don’t offer anything in return. Fools like you are not virtuous—you are nothing more than parasites, hungering insatiably for what personal gain can be had from the disputes of others.”
My neighbor’s voice boomed over the stage speakers. Her words were bizarre. Meanwhile, I could still hear their conversation backstage through my earphone.
“Elder Sister, I would like you to strike a slightly cooler pose.”
“You mean that wasn’t enough?”
“I have seen data on the internet suggesting that some exaggeration is suitable in a situation like this. If you wish to truly convince the audience of the story, then I recommend you adopt more flamboyant gestures.”
“…Fine.”
After their exchange, the floating 3D model seemed to change position slightly. From what I’d heard, it seemed my neighbor was in charge of Ochiba Kareki’s movements and voice. After their exchange, the 3D model took action once more.
“For the sake of my beloved Demonic Middle Manager, I, Ochiba Kareki, will end this farce. Scurry away in fear like the insignificant insects you are. But know that wherever you run, you remain dancing in the palms of our hands.”
She held her arms out in front of her, straight all the way to her fingertips. The pose reminded me of a dictator or religious leader giving a speech. She was clearly playing a villain here; otherwise, she wouldn’t have said those things to hostages.
Despite her villainy, her act was pretty cool. She was like an evil female general from some TV show.
Just then, her entire body shone with light—and a moment later, her outfit changed. Before, she’d been wearing a student uniform. Now she was dressed flashily in a black getup with a lot of exposed skin. Essentially, it was bondage gear.
“Um, I can see you changed Ochiba’s outfit…”
“Yes. I have adjusted it to be more appropriate to your lines and the situation.”
“Huh. Well, I think it does a good job of showing who you are on the inside!”
“You be quiet, Abaddon.”
Now her appearance was also giving off the “evil female general” vibe. The audience let out more cheers.
The terrorists seemed shocked at this series of events. They’d been trying to get off the stage disguised as hostages, when a 3D model had stopped them in their tracks. They seemed to realize that the 3D projection was no act.