2026-05-14: One More Life

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<Pose Tracker> The One in the Black Mask has posed.

Rain - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vcrb6365GsQ
The sounds of battle were ferocious, but they grew more distant with every passing footstep. A hollow thudding against stone. His footsteps were soon louder than that.
 
Up he goes. It had been a while since the last time he was here, and he'd never shown himself to the Ruler.
 
His sidearm felt heavier, somehow, in his hand as he made a turn into a side chamber - and stopped.
 
To look the shadow of his past sins right in the eye.
 
"You must be Futaba-chan," he says, the honorific a wry quip from his lips. "Wakaba Isshiki's little girl."
 
His hand tightened around the firearm. The deal to spare her was still in effect, and he hardly wanted to use it.
 
But he would.
 
"Do you truly want to die, Futaba-chan?" he asks, his tone devoid of malice for once. "I could grant you your wish."
 
He doesn't want to do it, but he asks the question anyway. Such is one of the myriad contradictions that make up the man behind that Black Mask.
 
"And if that is truly what you want... then why are these amateurs- here?"
 
Her answers might spare her or end her lonely existence.
 
What's one more life, anyway?

<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.

 
The figure that stands up at the top of those great stairs from the foot of the pyramid up to near its apex is not impressive. Five-even if she stands on the balls of her feet. Synthetically-orange hair. Round glasses. A thin build. The Egyptian motif of the clothing may seem more like cosplay than the garments of a princess.

But as someone draws nearer, the Shadow of Futaba Sakura straightens up. If the man in the black mask is watching ahead of him, he can see it happen. Yellow eyes turned balefully down. Confidence, or an attempt at it. Strength, or an attempt at it.

He greets her.

Shadow Futaba is deliberately silent. If the man in the black mask keeps track, he can tell it goes past the four-second threshold of a natural conversational pause.

It is difficult to say what is *within* a Shadow, as a Shadow is often by definition something *within* something else. What is within the filling of a candy? What is within the pit of a cherry? Potential, perhaps, but you would not expect fruit; only the promise of fruit-to-be, if the conditions were right.

For the Shadow of Futaba Sakura, it is something different. Something stranger. Inchoate defiance and petulance are cooking in a broth of something else, and the broth is growing remarkably thick and strange.

When she finally speaks, the first thing she does is scoff. It sounds like 'teh!' - a deliberate vocalization. Her head tilts back, as if she can keep looking down upon a figure.

"You understand nothing, interloper," she speaks, and the voice is thick with the amplified distortion that comes and goes in the voice of most of the Shadows that speak in words that humans can understand.

"Want this. Want that. Wish that. Wish this. Do you wish the sun to stay in the heavens for a week straight? Do you want a bird to crawl back into its egg?"

An unclear answer. Clearer, perhaps, might be the way her frail-seeming hands are curling into fists.

"They came for their own reasons. My desires have NOTHING-" a sudden flaring tone in her voice, "to do with ANYONE'S actions! Are you here to slay them? They aren't here. You left them." One hand snaps up, trembling subtly, an index finger pointed down the stairs. "Don't expect aid."

Her teeth are clenched, even if the rest of her face is still oddly slack. 

<Pose Tracker> The One in the Black Mask has posed.

'You understand nothing, interloper,'
 
"Don't be so certain." He replies, with icy self-assurance. As if his ego were bruised by the mere implication of ignorance.
 
"Nothing so grand as all that. All I want are answers."
 
Heavy as that firearm is, he raises it, pointing it right at the center of her forehead. Mostly because she's so short that pointing it at her chest would be less threatening.
 
"Is that so? Then that would imply that you don't want to be saved. You wouldn't- lie to me, now would you? Which is it, Futaba-chan?"
 
As his words become far more threatening, behind the barrel of that gun, a half-growl tossed her way, "If you're collaborating with the Phantom Thieves, then perhaps it's time for me to tie up this loose end..."
 
The air is thick as he pauses, like time dilates and stretches this moment forward, perhaps it truly is, here in this Palace of the Mind.
 
"... just like I did with your Mother."
 
Why would he admit to that? Well, he has his reasons.
 
"I understand nothing? What a pathetic little wretch you are." As his tone becomes mocking, "Actually believing you drove that woman to suicide."
 
A smirk, a flash of teeth, "I know her replacement spoils you so- but it's not always about you- you stupid little shit."
 
In this moment, his words are a double edged sword. Because he believes that about himself. That he caused the death of his mother. Academically he knows he didn't really, but you can never really carve out that part of yourself that feels you were a curse on her existence.

<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.

 
Don't be so certain, he says.

"You defile this tomb with your mere presence. Consider yourself blessed I answer you at all," the Shadow continues...

Something is quivering, inside of that inchoate darkness. Facts are writhing around. Something trembling from the screams of greed, from the weeping of wounds, from the shame and anger around that one moment of hope. All of it swirling darkly.

But he raises his gun and points it at the Shadow's forehead.

        I am helpless

Shadow Futaba keeps staring at him with those big eyes behind those big glasses.

        I am helpless
        I am cursed
        I am pathetic

She keeps staring without visible reaction. And then the man in the black mask finishes his sentence.

He can see light dawning in the Shadow's eyes.

Somewhere inside of that murky soup a single fact reaches down like a rod of crystal thrown from the heavens, thundering and screaming and blasting confusion away. Total clarity for a moment. A perfection of satori, perhaps. It's only an instant; the sea is coming back in, but something about it is different.

The first change to the Shadow's face is that her lips split into an enormous grin, a grin that shows all of her teeth. And her eyes kindle with a flame as she straightens up, that false pose becoming true as she spreads out her hands. "You *fool*," she says. "I KNEW IT --"

There is a sudden emanation of wrathful energy from the Shadow, a luminous violet that surges outwards like live darkness --

and
just
sort of stays there, a radiant but impotent malice. The Shadow's face darkens, grows more alive, more furious, indignant, snarling, but she doesn't move and there is no growing transformation. No titanic mummy or hellacious monstrosity of scarab and bone emerges.

Shadow Futaba seethes.

    I'm helpless,
    I'm cursed,
    I'm pathetic,
        AND IT PISSES ME OFF!!!!!

Awareness ripples through the Shadow and it is laden with wrath. Impotent helplessness redoubles the wrath. An accursed life redoubles the wrath. A pathetic child's pleading redoubles the wrath. AND THERE IS NOTHING ELSE!!!

Shadow Futaba hyperventilates. Nothing. There is nothing more. I'm helpless, she thinks. He's pointing a gun at my head and - and he hasn't pulled the trigger - wrath easily turns to spite and fury. Those fists, tight, spread out at either side as she throws her head back, eyes rolling in outrage as she cries out, "I WON'T--"

The sentence doesn't end. It's an absolute.

The warm green glow that suffuses the great vaults and the trailing circuits and alphanumerics flowing lazily behind her suddenly change tone, becoming something more toxic, more lime-tinged, more *poisonous*.

That impotent wrath doesn't do anything more than build and rebuild on itself but there is a silent call. There are other Shadows in here, and if she can't do anything else at all she can pray that this man, this liar, this absolute bastard in front of her can bleed on teeth and spear and stone alike!

Unfortunately, there are no Shadows nearby.

The nearest was Mot, and Mot is gone now. There are nagas and lamias in abundance, but they are far away. Other things that had slept, or only meandered through a meaningless path, snap to wakefulness. The Phantom Thieves, too damnably far away, may see several of the garbage Shadows they've likely plowed through a number of times *run past them*, silent but heeding a call.

Shadow Futaba can hear another familiar voice, but, at least, there's satisfaction with waking up *that*. 

<Pose Tracker> The One in the Black Mask has posed.

"So high and mighty, 'great Pharaoh'. And yet, you don't even realize that I already have access to your most inner sanctum. If you didn't answer me, I'd rip you out of your sarcophagus and make you."
 
Exactly, Futaba. You are helpless when facing down the barrel of this gun. The confidence in his eyes is such that even if you gathered every Shadow in this Palace, clad yourself in the armor of the mightiest Archdemon you could muster.
 
You still could do nothing, if this man decided to kill you.
 
She radiates insecurity, even as the atmosphere becomes permeated with the toxicity of these feelings she justly feels right now. He can read her so completely that it's unnerving. That empathy, that shared experience using it as a weapon against her.
 
"Did you?" He chortles at her declaration. "And yet you still know less than nothing."
 
He then echoes the statement, with a rephrasing, as she hyperventilates- and clenches those fists in front of him in her own impotence, and anger, "You are nothing. The only reason you were allowed to live at all was as an early guinea pig of my employer. Your mother, Futaba-chan? Well that was just business."
 
Yes that's right. Get Mad. Get Mad. GET MAD!
 
He cocks the hammer back of the gun, with an audible click. "Nothing personal. I killed her because a powerful man wanted her dead- and paid me a great sum of money to carry it out. Though I admit, I am rather enjoying rubbing it in. Now- why don't you finish that sentence?" He flashes that shark tooth, predator's grin at her, "Depending on what you say, those could be your last words."

<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.

 
In the world of the real -

Futaba Sakura looks up from her anime, brow furrowing. For some reason she looks towards the shrouded window instead of back to the show, the chirping cries of imaginary animals filling her ears. What was that feeling?

But here, in the palace -

The Shadow stares at the Black Mask and she continues to seethe. Her face contorts into new straits of helpless, impotent rage as all of her exertions have managed to amount to nothing. She is drawing in something to help her weak form and that's going to fail too. The words of the Black Mask are recorded by the immortal, imperishable scribes inside of her mind, even as one of them turns around to begin drafting the last promise list.

She won't fulfill that one, of course.

Even if blood (or something like blood) is rushing in her ears (or something like ears) Shadow Futaba can hear the Black Mask perfectly well. The impressions are written perfectly. His words etched imperishably in a space that will be gone in less than a minute.

Maybe slightly more than a minute, but it's clear immediately to the Shadow that if she tries to run or disappear he will go ahead and fire. And what he describes suggests that even fading into nothingness won't help. Can she do it faster than a bullet can fly? Here: no.

    I'm sorry, Kana. I didn't mean to see it.

Shadow Futaba hears the invitation to finish the sentence. Her breath hitches.

    I'm sorry, Sojiro. You were really nice.
    I hope you'll forget everything.

Another fast breath. The incandescent fury has apparently reached its pitch, or at least if she's getting angrier, it isn't accomplishing anything.

    I'm sorry, Mom. I love you.
    But maybe I'll get him like this.

Another thought crosses the contracting protostar of impotent outrage in her mind.

    I'm sorry, Phantom Thieves... Mr. Fontaine...
    ... I don't --

She breathes in. Maybe she's composing a last spiteful insult. She's pretty smart, this might be a good one!

At least she isn't closing her eyes. 

<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.

    Clink.
    
    Amid the thunderous battle closer to the foot of those stairs, and with Shadow Futaba's roiling rage, it might be difficult to hear a grappling hook connect overhead with a part of the ceiling. There is a whir as the line attached to it coils rapidly, and that might be more noticeable for a few seconds it's in action.
    
    Then Joker flies up and in from below, their silvery new PMF-84W in their right hand as their left guides them into an intercept. They open fire on the Black Mask with a couple of shots to intercept him and drive him away from Futaba's Shadow, then kick off the wall as they reach the end of their line and disconnect, and finally flip forward to land in between the two of them.
    
    They slash at the Black Mask with their also-new Harpe Knife as they do; it's a weak attack, the weapon being in their off hand, but that doesn't matter because it's a feint meant to drive him further away.
    
    Joker raises their head. Fury burns in their dark eyes behind that domino mask, but unlike Futaba's incandescent rage, it burns coldly--with fear, but also an unswayable determination.
    
    "Begone," they growl, and unload the rest of their clip on him without hesitation or mercy. They know he'll be fine anyway. 

<Pose Tracker> The One in the Black Mask has posed.

Can he understand what she's going through? Absolutely. This anger, these feelings- they're all that led him to where he is right now.

He lets her seethe. No, he exults in it.

This is validation for his Justice.

For however horrible he felt when he killed Wakaba Isshiki, his first true innocent... he can still be cruel to her daughter so very easily, or at least her Shadow.

It's like being cruel to the inside of someone's brain, in his eyes. Not really her. Yet, without the brain, one cannot function. Without the Shadow- such is the basis for the Mental Shutdown.

"No?" He tilts his head, as if trying to catch the look in those incandescent eyes. "No words at all?"

His fingertip barely flexes on the trigger.

"Such a shame."

Clink.

Right on cue.

"Haha- ahahaha-! Really? You show up now?" Joker will see him lean back from his shots, in this casual, loose posture. Yet one shot will appear to be still right on the mark, hurtling towards that Black Mask.

Passing through him. Because he's a few paces away, moving so fast there was an after image of himself.

His serrated saw like blade starts to appear, as he tosses the firearm from his left to right hand, catching it- and parrying the knife, one, two-

The gun points at Joker, before swiftly shifting sideways at Joker's next attack, feinting like it's throwing him just slightly off from the impact.

There's a sound like thunder, as he pulls the trigger on Joker's next attack. And Shadow Futaba will feel the bullet so close that it whizzes by her ear, not enough to do real harm, but enough to set this cognitive image of hers' ear ringing.

'Begone,'

"Why don't you try and make me?" He says with a low snarl, like he's upset that his shot missed. A hand at his mask, as red flames spill out, with the effigy of a twisted butterfly covering his face with wings that elongate far too much behind him.

That translucent outline appears, and Joker will have to move quickly, because what's descending at a diagonal, pike like lance of negative force. Meant to demoralize and degrade.

Also possibly impale. If he's not fast enough.

"What's the matter? No little tricks this time?" He asks as he sweeps his blade down, and begins to an advance, "Did you actually believe for a second that you had me? ME? ... Let me show you how it's really done."

<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.

 
Something goes 'clink.'

The Shadow, staring into the barrel of the gun, wonders - inevitably, because it's inevitable for the mind that is her and which she is - what caused it. Was it a spring in the gun? Maybe he fired a number of rounds, or perhaps he changed magazines before arriving. That's the proper term for them: 'clip' is wrong. She knows that. Six different people said that in different contexts. Shadow Futaba remembers.

A little breath escapes the Shadow's lips.

Something whirrs. Maybe it's all slowed down like that because I'm about to die, thinks (Shadow) Futaba: It's kind of inconvenient. Can't it just be over with really quick? It's unfair.

A huge dark shape rushes in.

Her eyes turn four degrees left as the shape resolves. It's...

Joker? That's what they called them. Joker.

It's a complex feeling. They might be able to avenge her, but will they have to see my blood and brains everywhere? It'd be really gross, thinks (Shadow) Futaba: and...

IN THE PHYSICAL WORLD

Futaba suddenly hugs her knees. A chill crossed through her. She's still looking at the window. It's quieter in her thoughts than usual, though she'll only notice it later.

IN THE TOMB

... they've worked hard, right? They had to, to - ah, there's the gunshot, two shots, he's not messing around, thinks Shadow Futaba, except there is a report from elsewhere in the hall. The eyes don't match the sounds. Somewhat muffled and she can't see the gunbarrel any more. But...

The man in the black mask speaks again and he's - he's not talking to me, realizes the Shadow, blinking once, but the interruption didn't stop what was going to happen, so then there's the thunderous sound, the one she was expecting. A silver thread passes, a discussion from a film on how in the movies (how meta!) the sound a gunshot made was always so loud, when in actual fact it was -

A huge wind passes by the Shadow's ear. The bullet comes, in fact, into the space between where her side-locks ended and her hair began. It strikes the hair on the back of her head, pulling it along in the wake of such tremendous velocity - the Shadow may be made of sterner stuff than a human, because her hair billows outwards with a shockingly vivid flourish, only a few strands severed and flying off with tiny *piff*s of darkness.

The bullet grounds itself in cognitive sandstone, and leaves only a tiny divot, putting a paradoxical second dot on top of a lower-case i.

Shadow Futaba blinks once.

Otherwise, she does not move.

There is a slow, cautious 'nnh?' sound, barely vocalized and easily missed underneath gunfire. 

<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.

    Isn't it wonderful, Black Mask, having someone you can trust so much?
    
    Joker doesn't respond to his initial taunt; they literally came as soon as possible, once that enraged Mot had been beaten down with Ogre's weakness-striking Zan spells enough that they could get past it. Bullets and blades strike each other, and Joker's own predictions are on the mark: their attacks aren't enough to do him harm, but they are at least enough to protect the girl they're both here for.
    
    Likewise, they don't respond to the Black Mask's snarled words, because they are trying to make him. Though Joker doesn't dare turn their back on him, they can sense behind them that that bullet missed--hear that faint 'nuh' from the Shadow, which might well be shell-shocked. Which definitely does not make any attempt to run away.
    
    Crimson flames rise from the assassin's mask. Joker knows what's going to happen next. They would have to move quickly if they want to have any hope of avoiding that distorted, invisible lance.
    
    But moving quickly would mean abandoning Futaba's Shadow to take the attack instead.
    
    Joker SCREAMS in what sounds like mortal agony as they stand their ground to protect her, and are rewarded with that negative energy cleaving into their midsection. Demoralize? Degrade? Certainly. It's one more example of how Joker's not even in his league.
    
    But as they half-slump, one gloved hand clutching a knee to keep from crumpling outright--as they bleed and gasp for breath--they grit their teeth.
    
    What's the matter? No little tricks this time?
    
    They don't just grit, they grind. Their eyes lift in a searing glare that's beyond fury--and well into hatred.
    
    As the Black Mask advances on them with his serrated blade in hand, Joker clutches their own mask. It lights up in a blue blaze, and the Great Thief rises at their back on wings of shadow.
    
    No, not just wings--waves. Waves and waves, like a thick, choking mist whirling outwards from Joker and their Persona. Arsène's clawed hand rises to their own face in a reflection of Joker, and in between the cracks of their fingers, their eye--for both of them--lights up a bloody scarlet.
    
    "I said BEGONE!!"
    
    User and Persona's one eye flashes. That dark mist that coils around them now lunges at their foe like a black beast separated into their own afterimages that strike and strike and strike and strike with terrifying relentlessness.
    
    Even if Joker can't defeat him as they are now, they WILL make him regret this encounter. They swear it--on their life. 

AS: Persona! Ren Amamiya has used the Dark skill Nightmare Eye on The One in the Black Mask! 3 Hits!
AS: Avoid Neutral! The One in the Black Mask takes 17 Dark damage from Ren Amamiya's Nightmare Eye. Resist!
AS: Crt_Dn (Critical down!) added!
AS: Avoid Best! The One in the Black Mask takes 5 Dark damage from Ren Amamiya's Nightmare Eye. Resist!
AS: Avoid Worst! The One in the Black Mask takes 34 Dark damage from Ren Amamiya's Nightmare Eye. Resist!

<Pose Tracker> The One in the Black Mask has posed.

No it's the actual worst. It's making life so complicated when he's forced to acknowledge his own feelings.

Joker takes the Negative Pile like a champ. "Was it worth it?" He echoes, the same words he spoke on the day the two met in this guide.

Kobayakawa was a piece of scum to be flicked off his boot though, even Akechi would acknowledge to himself that it was definitely worth it.

The tip of his blade scrapes lazily on the ground, sparking up, as he moves over, one foot step at a time. Joker is fighting for his life, and this guy can afford to be so casual about it.

Then he stops.

The display in front of him is admirable, heroic certainly, standing his ground. As wings of shadow rise up.

'I said BEGONE!'

It's enough of a display that rather than try to advance through it as his battle instinct would ordinarily demand, tough it out, he instead shouts, "MANIFEST!"

And the effigy of the Great Thief clashes with the invisible Trickster of Myth. each claw strike causing darkness to spill across it's outline, revealing more of its shape with each blast, keeping them separated.

As both invisible Trickster and master vanish in the accursed Mist.

The first sign that he's still present, is the flash of a red eye from within the clearing blast of Arsene's mist.

As he steps out, and cracks his neck sideways, "Better." He remarks, surprised that Arsene was able to leave that mark on him. However, he feels sort of strangely touched by the use of Claws in an attack he hadn't seen before, "BUT NOT NEARLY ENOUGH!"

That shape flies forward, the air carving around Joker, so many gouges appearing in the air, before shining around him. With death by a thousand cuts.

Leaving no escape in sight that wouldn't expose Futaba's Shadow.

AS: Persona! The One in the Black Mask has used the Slash skill Deathbound on Ren Amamiya! 3 Hits!
AS: Block Worst! Ren Amamiya takes 83 Slash damage from The One in the Black Mask's Deathbound.
AS: Block Best! Ren Amamiya takes 57 Slash damage from The One in the Black Mask's Deathbound. Critical Hit!
AS: You have 1 more attack in queue!
AS: Block Best! Ren Amamiya takes 39 Slash damage from The One in the Black Mask's Deathbound.
AS: Ichika Kawase has readied for combat as Momiji! She is now fully healed!

<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.

 
She's still alive.

The Shadow does not quite believe it. That was the sound of the bullet, right? It must have hit her, right? It was as she thought, a perceptual slowdown as her mind expanded the last few sensory inputs to... to...

Flames arise, strange flames. The Shadow's eyes move and a few moments later so does her head. Not much, enough to watch. And when the shot bursts out and Joker screams, both of her hands break those fists and come up suddenly to cover her mouth with her fingers, following him. A sudden and perhaps-unheeded break in royal demeanor.

Perhaps more telling is that the poison-green light pulses, goes back to that more pleasantly-green phosphor glow from before... and then grows more intense anyway, as a feeling that is more like a sense of an enormous musical instrument, its sound far below the threshold of perception, just changed keys.

And yet, despite it all, Joker's getting back up. The hands stay put even as her eyes follow after them. Their voice comes up sharper, that great shadow behind them rallying despite - despite the gunshot. Not dead?

Where did the bullet go? A quick check between the scribes. No. That was a separate shot that flew by her ear. What hit...

What hit Joker...

                    hit joker

            what hit

    joker hit

A bullet.

The consolidations are checked. It's what happens. By this time, the Shadow - now just rocking back from that great and astonishing Abyss within her thoughts, stepping into a space she had assumed would simply be the uttermost black that prevailed before her birth - can tell, they're moving. Speaking more? Mist? NOT NEARLY ENOUGH?

They're both alive, thinks Shadow Futaba. And they're fighting.

The Man in the Black Mask was going to kill me, Futaba reasons. This room has nothing else in it save the entrance to the Chamber. And... her.

Joker...

It is a monumental thought, in a monumental place, but nevertheless, when all the facts, duly attested, line up...

            Joker protected me. 

<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.

    Complicated feelings for a complicated man playing a complicated game.
    
    Was it worth it? that complicated man asks, echoing the first time he'd dominated Joker in a fight. Not quite so completely this time, though. For all that they're gravely wounded, Joker doesn't so much as flinch. They don't even look back to check Futaba's Shadow's reaction.
    
    "Obviously," they growl back.
    
    She's unharmed, and as long as they stay up, she'll stay that way. In this moment, that's enough.
    
    And though the Black Mask bids his strange translucent Persona to grapple with Arsène, revealing more of itself in the darkness before both of them are obscured--though the Black Mask propels his Persona forward to unleash a flurry of slices into and around them, once again capitalizing on their unwillingness to allow Futaba to come to harm--they don't need to win, either.
    
    They just need to stall long enough for the cavalry to arrive.
    
    For that, the best maneuver is--
    
    As those shining slashes manifest, Arsène dives down, taking those blows for their User. This only means the damage is psychological rather than physical; it's just as agonizing either way, if with the slight perk of not creating more bleeding wounds. That one remains dangerously open, Joker not even pausing to clutch it to slow the bleeding. They sway on their feet, as if to pass out or even outright drop dead... but Arsène's hand whips through the air, and a shining needle pierces through towards that heat-haze outline.
    
    If they just need to last, then the best move they've got is to dull the Black Mask's edge and invite him towards slumber. Joker doesn't think he'll pass out, but fighting against their entire team while also fighting off exhaustion might just encourage the Black Mask to choose the better part of valor. 

<Pose Tracker> Ichika Kawase has posed.

Mot's down. That means they need to back up Joker. Ogre isn't bad at running; she's no track star, but she's got a long, steady stride. And run she does.

Up the stairs, up through the pyramid, despite all the purple and toxic everything--

"JOKER!" Ogre calls, skidding up on the platform to see him fighting the Black Mask directly. ...She doesn't know what just happened, but she knows Shadow Futaba is still there, and maybe that's what counts.

So Ogre, dressed in her padded armor and wearing her oni mask with the long horns, throws out her hand. "PERSONA!" she calls, and sparkling light erupts around Joker where he stands, Momiji having whirled into existence to conjure up a healing spell. The shadow-oni cackles madly with the merriment of bloodlust.

She stops short of actually charging into melee, instead reaching out for Joker. "You OK?" she asks.

She knows she's not alone here, though. Not because of Joker, but because-- 

<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.

    Mot's down, and there's no time to think about the assonance.

    Phoenix was battered around pretty bad, by that raging Shadow, and yet --

    "RRRAAAARGH--!!"

    The shape of the Trickster falls upon Arsene with cut, and cut, and cut; and perhaps, one thousand and one, the Man in the Black Mask could carve right through Joker's strongest warrior to show them just how much blood they have. (Had.) And yet -- one thousand -- and another blur sets upon it, as Phoenix drags their greatsword alongside them in their charge, only to plant a foot and SWING in a mighty blow which sends them in a whirl.

    Once their feet are planted, Phoenix finds the words: "FUCK OFFA JOKER AN' OUT SAKURA-SAN'S SHIT!"

    Eloquence.

<Pose Tracker> The One in the Black Mask has posed.

Joker bleeds, looking like he's near swooning. He has no intention of killing him right now. Hardly the satisfying victory. No... he needs to know. He needs to understand that he was beaten not just physically, but intellectually.
 
The translucent outline of his Persona fades.
 
And then- 'JOKER!'
 
He turns his head, just in time looking for Ogre. 'RRRAAAARGH--!!' Only to see a Phoenix charging right at them, he pivots, like he's going to step out of the way, but instead, swings up his sword, holding it at a lazy backhand.
 
It looks like Phoenix is going to blow through his blade, that Greatsword is so much bigger, it has the advantage of momentum, leverage.
 
And they are ever so strong.
 
Yet, the two blades make contact at the point of parry. Sparks fly-
 
-and Phoenix eerily, as they rage, find that they've met a slab of Titanium. He is pushed back two paces, but only two, before he stops their momentum.
 
"You must think you're the Cavalry." He says, with a malicious grin plastered onto his face, before reaching out with his right hand, and grabbing their face with a clawed, gauntleted hand.
 
And then he twists at the hips, and slams them to the ground hard enough for the stonework of the Pyramid to crack beneath them. Proving that however strong they are with that blade.
 
There's always someone stronger.
 
"So are you offering for me to get up in yours instead?" He asks with a certain casual menace, "That's so mice of you. Ahahahaha-HAHAHA-!"
 
Why did he have to throw in the pun?
 
Why.
 
"Let's see. How many Phantom Thieves can I put in the ground in two minutes?" He asks, like he's trying to challenge himself, as he raises that blade again. "Shall we find out?" He asks Ogre and Joker- like he's prepared to cut through all of them to get to Shadow Futaba.

<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.

 
The Shadow stands there, seemingly frozen, hands still covering her mouth. She is shrouded, shaded now. There are others in front of her. Shadow Futaba called for Shadows to avenges her and she has Phantom Thieves instead. Not simply Joker, to be a last dull leaden toll on her heart before it's crushed and slain -

(Because even as she acknowledged that yes, that was Joker, and yes, they did protect her, she did not really expect it to change the outcome... but Shadow Futaba is what rests in the heart.)

- it's also Ogre and Phoenix. Legendary warriors, and the others no doubt close behind.

She doesn't speak. She doesn't thank them. She actually hunches a little, as if finally allowing herself to show fear, or something like it. Her face seems frozen, peeking through the gaps between their bodies and their magicks. A glittering lens here and there. No doubt quite maddening.

It would be reasonable to run, thinks Shadow Futaba. I have an opening. I can simply fade into immateriality, as I have before, and - and perhaps shall again.

 ... and yet, she does not move. 

<Pose Tracker> Ren Amamiya has posed.

    Ogre is the first on the scene, with Phoenix hot on her heels--or rather, her heals. Though it doesn't instantly erase the wound gouged in Joker's midsection, it does knit up and stop the bleeding, putting some color back into their face. At the same time, Phoenix goes directly for the Black Mask, swinging that enormous sword at him. The others are no doubt on their way.
    
    "I've been better," Joker admits, accepting Ogre's offered hand and accepting her help to stay steady on their feet. They're still in a lot of pain; good thing it's a half-day tomorrow, and the weekend after that. "But I'll live--and more importantly," they glance over their shoulder at Shadow Futaba, "so will she."
    
    But now that they're actually looking at her, she seems horrified. Frozen. Hunched over and, despite the airs she's taken previously, frightened.
    
    "Go. He's after you," they urge her. "We'll make it out of here. I promise."
    
    That's quite a promise to make, considering how the Black Mask just slammed Phoenix into the ground like they were a birthday cake, then had the nerve to make a pun about it.
    
    Joker bares their knife against him anyway, stare stony as he makes his threats.
    
    "Get out of here," they demand--though whether it's to him or to Futaba's Shadow is unclear. Either way, they call up a Persona again in a rush of blue flame, though this time what arises is--a very familiar snake-bodied man.
    
    The Naga they'd acquired from this very Palace.
    
    He raises his spear towards the Black Mask and calls down a Zionga spell. If the Dream Needle from before wasn't effective, then maybe a bout of paralysis will better persuade him to leave.
    
    Even if it doesn't, they're sure Phoenix will appreciate the window of an opportunity to kick the Black Mask while he's twitching. 

<Pose Tracker> Ichika Kawase has posed.

They've been better; Ogre can accept that, but she's going to steady their leader as best she can. Joker catches her up on just what happened a moment ago, and Ogre scowls. "Even trying something like that--"

Eloquence is happening. Ogre watches Black Mask manage to stop Phoenix's charge, not without effort but without any of the expected beign smashed. How many Phantom Thieves...?

Well.

"Yeah, we do," Ogre says of thinking they're the cavalry. "I'm not giving up yet."

"--Phoenix!" She worries, of course, for them. She can't help that. But she doesn't have to just worry.

She throws another heal at Phoenix, this time, courtesy of Momiji who is now snarling instead of just grinning.

And Ogre realizes what it is that Joker is trying to do. For them to get out...

"Go, go, go!" she calls, and charges in to get to Phoenix and drag them out if she can. 

<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.

    Shadow Futaba -- like her mirror? -- is frozen.

    It's something Phoenix is only really aware of on the periphery, though.

    Taking up their field of view: the Man in the Black Mask, who arrests their momentum with only a slight backwards drag.

    Later, perhaps Ren will talk to them about how pushing the Black Mask back two steps was actually a great achievement, given their scope of experience fighting him. Right now -- "FUCK!" -- Phoenix just feels thwarted.

    It's a moment of defeat which arrests them just long enough for the Black Mask to reach out --

    (Phoenix isn't exactly an unstoppable force; they're exactly as stoppable as their heart.)

    -- for all the brutality of Kasugayama's roughest students, Phoenix has never quite experienced being introduced to the ground by a grip on their face. They crack the stone; it is only by virtue of Izbushka's strength that their spine doesn't shatter alongside it. "Fuckin'..." They start, and almost spit out, again?, except they're dazed enough that it takes a minute and that minute is just what they needed to remember their opsec.

    It's only thanks to Ogre's heals that they're able to answer the way they do.

    "Yeah," just like that, as they plant a hand beneath them, and, shakily, push their chassis upwards. Slip the knee underneath: push up. It's a deliberate process. Their titanic strength is dwarfed against the horror of the Man in the Black Mask -- as if nothing; if they were alone, they wouldn't get back up.

    They're not alone, though. So even though it takes a labourous moment, they spit out, with the blood of a bitten cheek: "Yeah, actually. Pick on someone ya own size. An' for the record, bitch, I was ADORABLE!" As a rat, they mean.

    That rise of their voice coincides with them gathering up the determination to strike again, trying to keep the Man in the Black Mask's attention on them --

    -- and not Shadow Futaba.

<Pose Tracker> Futaba Sakura has posed.

 
Shadow Futaba's eyes turn towards Joker and despite the hands covering her mouth, there is something unusual in them. Is it a lack of hostility? It's the kind of broken-down look in some of the other Rulers of Palaces. Did Black Mask do something?

It's not that. Even as they call forth a Naga and fulfill Shadow Futaba's ambitions she looks to Ichika as she calls out to Phoenix. And there's an encouragement from her as well. Finally the Shadow, still covering her mouth, looks towards Phoenix. They are rough and perhaps coarse and incredibly strong, and...

    Consider the facts.
    Joker intercepted the bullet with their body.
    Phoenix has arrived.
    Ogre is
            what
    Mot - mouse/rat - they really
    They're joking about this
    Not me, about - about -

The Shadow's face contorts but it's in a different direction. Her eyes seem to halve in size as her face scrunches up. Something glistening pours out from the sides of her eyes - not a dramatic gush, simply a fall of displaced tears.

            They're telling me to leave
    They want me to go
        Yes, it's a sound analysis
        !!!!>HE<!!!! is here to kill me
    only his sadism has saved me
                I MUST SUCCEED

She takes a single step back and begins to fade from view. It's a simple fading, as if there's a hidden dial being turned in a long smooth motion from Completely Opaque to Completely Transparent, and at the end of that, it's as if Shadow Futaba wasn't there at all.

There is still a bullethole in the wall, of course.

Something, distantly, rumbles. It's a little too big to just be ground settling, or thumping and shooting and striking and healing and carrying-on dislodging something.

But the Shadow? Nothing. 

<Pose Tracker> The One in the Black Mask has posed.

Futaba freezes. That's not good enough. That's not angry enough. If she can't pull herself out of this learned helplessness- then all of this was wasted effort.

Zionga descends, from Naga. It strikes him dead on. Smoke wafts off of his armor from the entry and exit point, but it only causes the smallest twitch of his muscles.
 
"You really don't get it."
 
The One in the Black Mask speaks matter-of-factly to Joker. "You're in no position to tell me to do anything. All of you together couldn't hope to win this."
 
Ogre tries to rally them all to run, and Phoenix- "If I limited myself to that, there'd be no one to 'pick on' at all." He quips at them, with a smirk, before he tilts his head at being told they were adorable, before he leans down towards Phoenix, a blade being placed so near their neck for them to feel the blade.
 
"Well well, at least you're taking your tragic de-mice in good humor."
 
WHY
 
Which is when his head turns, and suddenly his hand that was bearing nothing moments ago now has that firearm again, he fires right at the spot where the fading Shadow's head once was.
 
It's so close, that one almost believes for a moment that he got her.
 
He didn't though. There's a smoking hole in the wall. "..." He's at least being performative enough to look upset about this development, his brows contracting in rage.
 
"You pathetic little bitch. You think you can run away from this? From ME?"
 
There's a grunt, and- he looks towards the Phantom Thieves and shrugs, "Business before pleasure. All of you just aren't important enough. So we'll have to do this another time. I'll just be making a quick run through the deepest part of the Palace to see if she's cowering in the dark."
 
The height with which he leaps is impressive, as he stabs his claws into the wall, then kicks off, corkscrewing through the air and waving at them in mid-air as he goes.
 
"Have fun trying to figure out how to get in! Ahaha-HAHAHA!"
 
He becomes an inky blur as he cuts a diagonal into one of the side Safe Rooms. If they go to check, he's gone.
 
Given that he claims to have access to deeper in than them, they'll just have to trust that Shadow Futaba is smart enough not to show herself to him.
 
But assuming she is. The clock is definitely ticking.

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