.

MISSION TWO — 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕊𝕃𝕌𝔻𝔾𝔼 FACTORY

(The loading bay smells faintly of ozone and burnt sugar. A holographic floor-plan of the factory floats between them. The tiger cub paces and squeaks at top volume.)

Tiger Cub:
“OKAY! PLANT FOUR BOMBS, ONE BUTTON TO BLOW THEM ALL. FOUR CARRIERS—ONE DETONATOR. NO KILLING EACH OTHER. DON’T GET CAUGHT. IF YOU’RE CAUGHT, YOU MIGHT DIE. GO!”

(She presses a paw against the schematic; the team gathers around.)

Tiger Cub (pointing):
“POWER CORE, WASTE VATS, CONVEYOR HUB, AND CONTROL TOWER—those are your four. Button-holder gets to press the big red button when everyone’s clear. I’m giving the button to—STEAMTON. Because he looks like someone who enjoys theatrical finales. Hand it over, conductor.”

Steamton (grinning through a cough):
“CHOO— cough —CHOO! THEATRICALITY ACCEPTED! I SHALL PRES— cough —PRESERVE THE MOMENT!”
(He cradles a small, ridiculous-looking detonator box like it’s a microphone.)

Kitsune (low, annoyed):
“You’re joking. He’s going to flambé us all on accident.”

Cassie (flat):
“If he presses it at the wrong time, I’ll do a ritual that makes his hat explode. Metaphorically.”

Skrunkly (spinning):
“ME HOLD BUTTON! ME HOLD! ME! ME! ME! I’M SMALL AND CUTE—”

Steamton (clutching the detonator possessively):
“N-no! I HAVE MY REASONS. Conductor’s job, I tell you. Ladies and gents, I vow theatrical restraint.”

Jotaro (deadpan):
“Don’t be dramatic. Press when told. That’s all.”

Cassie (to Kitsune, quietly):
“We can’t trust showmanship alone. There are keycard doors and workers on 24-hour rotation. We need disguises, timing, and a plan for who goes where.”

Kitsune:
“I’ll take the conveyor hub and the vats. Luck and stealth are my lanes.”

Cassie:
“I’ll cover the control tower—ritual dampeners for cameras and comms. Quiet and quick.”

Jotaro:
“I’ll handle the power core. If anyone sees a problem, I stop time and fix it.”

Skrunkly:
“I plant a bomb! I plant—wait! I can distract too!”

Steamton (clutching the detonator):
“And I shall theatrically preside from a safe distance. No impetuous pressing. No sirree.”

Kitsune (dry):
“You do realize ‘safe distance’ might mean not standing in front of a vat of boiling sludge, yes?”

Steamton (offended):
“I AM A CONDUCTOR OF DESTRUCTION, NOT A FATALITY INSTRUMENT!”

INFILTRATION — THE DELIVERY DOCK

They arrive through a rusted delivery door. A night shift hums inside: workers in stained hazmat suits, conveyor belts groaning, vats bubbling green. Security kiosks with card readers dot the halls. Cameras sweep slowly, lenses catching reflections.

Cassie (whisper, hands moving):
“Stand back.”
(She traces a quick sigil in the air; her fingers glow faintly. A small orb of static briefly fogs a camera’s optics.)
“Temporary blindness—thirty seconds.”

Kitsune (softly):
“Bless you. I’ll go now.”

Kitsune melts into the shadows, tails tucked, folding between crates. Skrunkly bounds ahead—too loud—and claps excitedly at a line of bored workers.

Skrunkly (shouting happily):
“FREE STICKERS!!!”

A unit of workers turns—distraction achieved. Skrunkly’s giggling draws attention toward the snack line while Kitsune slips to the conveyor.

Steamton (muttering as he moves):
“Cough-chorus. Stage left! Button in case of emergency—emergency to be defined as ‘now’ by me, but I swear I will not press it early. cough”

PLANTING ONE — THE CONVEYOR HUB (Kitsune & Skrunkly)

Kitsune climbs the access catwalk. Below, conveyor belts drag barrels of glowing sludge. He slips a compact bomb—neatly welded to avoid contact sensors—into a structural seam beneath the belt.

Kitsune (whisper):
“Steady. Don’t touch the belts. They’re pressure-laden and linked to alarms.”

Skrunkly (giggling nerfishly):
“Look! A squeaky barrel! HONK HONK!”

Worker (frowning, suspicious):
“Hey—!”

Kitsune’s blade whispers; a single nonlethal strike knocks the worker’s wrist—no blood, just gentle incapacitation. Skrunkly performs a ridiculous tumble and flops over, drawing laughter. The worker shrugs and goes back to his station.

Kitsune (breathing):
“Bomb one: planted. Silent timer. Next.”

PLANTING TWO — THE VATS (Kitsune AGAIN)

Kitsune lowers himself into a maintenance crawlspace between vats. Pipes hiss. The green sludge pulses, mildly luminescent.

Kitsune (to himself):
“Smells like old candy and regrets.”

He welds the second charge to the vat base—luck manipulation keeps welding sparks from touching the sludge’s surface. He slides out as a forklift rumbles by.

Skrunkly (from above, whispering):
“I made a soup joke!”
(Everyone ignores him.)

PLANTING THREE — CONTROL TOWER (Cassie)

Cassie moves up the stairwell to the control tower. Panels line the walls. Cameras flicker back to life as her sigil fades.

Cassie (murmuring ritual):
“A little hush. Cameras sleep.”
(She hums a low pattern; the control tower’s comms warp minutely—feeds freeze on a buffer for moments.)

Cassie (typing fast):
“Planted near the main console. This will disrupt manual overrides when the bombs go off.”

A guard approaches the array, a tablet in hand. Cassie gives a thin smile and a perfectly casual cough; the guard looks away at the wrong moment, eyes glazing while Cassie finishes the mount.

Guard (blinking):
“…did I lock the… no, carry on.”

Cassie (soft):
“Perfect.”

PLANTING FOUR — POWER CORE (Jotaro)

Jotaro walks into a sub-level hum of power. Massive coils spin. Security is tight; a pair of guards patrol the core. He doesn’t sneak—he walks like a storm.

Guard (suspicious):
“Hey!”

They raise weapons. The team cannot afford a firefight near the core. Jotaro’s eyes narrow. Time slows—Star Platinum’s aura crackles.

Jotaro (gritted):
“Yare yare daze.”

He unleashes a flurry—rapid, precise, each strike a 0.01 fire-rate of crushing speed—nonlethal but devastating. The guards drop unconscious; an entire console is crushed with a single punch and slid to create cover. Jotaro’s movement blinks the world as he uses his time-stopping ability—five seconds—to wrench open the maintenance hatch, drop the bomb at the core, and seal it in place. The team watches seconds stretch into a slow-motion play as he shepherds the device into a safe recess. When time resumes, Jotaro is breathing hard but steady.

Jotaro:
“Power core—secured.”

ALARMS — THEY'RE CAUGHT... OR ARE THEY?

As Cassie withdraws from the control tower, a klaxon wails. Red lights flood the hallways. Cassie slams her fist against a panel—camera feeds show a brief static burst and rebooting streams. But the alarms persist.

Cassie (snarling softly):
“Someone triggered internal alert or the base tightened after our last mission. This isn’t random.”

Kitsune (fanning out tails):
“Either we were sloppy, or someone’s rearranged the locks.”

Steamton (hands in his pockets, detonator heavy):
“THEATRICAL MOMENT—DELAYED. DELIGHTFUL! I SHALL SIT—AND WAIT—PATIENTLY cough”

Skrunkly (panicked):
“ARE WE GOING TO DIE NOW???”

Cassie (eyes on Skrunkly):
“No. We are not going to get erased. Quiet. Move.”

KEYCARD DOORS — NO CARDS, PROBLEM

Patrols tighten. Iron keycard doors block a straight path. Workers start to shuffle in panic. A security team rounds the corner, sweeping with tasers.

Kitsune (whisper):
“There are too many live workers. We can’t just run through.”

Cassie:
“Watch the patterns. When they move, we move.”

Steamton (muttering):
“I could handcar a door open—smash and dash!”

Kitsune:
“And draw half the facility down on you.”

Cassie:
“I can loop a few door controls with a ritual, short-term. Five seconds each. It will cost me energy.”

Skrunkly (jittering):
“I can be the distraction again! I’ll—uh—start a conga line!”

Steamton (bright):
“YOU WILL CONDUCT—NO WAIT—STEAMTON WILL CONDUCT WITH A HAMMER! I SHALL TAP THE BEAT! cough”

Jotaro (calm):
“Cassie, do it. Skrunkly, stay put until we need noise. Kitsune, flank. I’ll handle the front.”

KEYCARD DOORS — NO CARDS, PROBLEM

Patrols tighten. Iron keycard doors block a straight path. Workers start to shuffle in panic. A security team rounds the corner, sweeping with tasers.

Kitsune (whisper):
“There are too many live workers. We can’t just run through.”

Cassie:
“Watch the patterns. When they move, we move.”

Steamton (muttering):
“I could handcar a door open—smash and dash!”

Kitsune:
“And draw half the facility down on you.”

Cassie:
“I can loop a few door controls with a ritual, short-term. Five seconds each. It will cost me energy.”

Skrunkly (jittering):
“I can be the distraction again! I’ll—uh—start a conga line!”

Steamton (bright):
“YOU WILL CONDUCT—NO WAIT—STEAMTON WILL CONDUCT WITH A HAMMER! I SHALL TAP THE BEAT! cough”

Jotaro (calm):
“Cassie, do it. Skrunkly, stay put until we need noise. Kitsune, flank. I’ll handle the front.”

THE BUTTON — A MOMENT OF TENSION

They reach the pre-determined safe zone. All four bombs are planted; tiny confirmations ping their radios. Steamton stands in a glass observation alcove, cradling the detonator’s red button like some ridiculous crown. He turns the dial one way, the dial the other, tapping it ceremonially.

Steamton (theatrical whisper):
“Ready for the finale? Place your bets. Will the explosion be on cue, or will we be confetti for the operation?”

Kitsune (uneasy):
“Don’t play with it.”

Cassie (checking a schematic):
“All bombs report armed. If we hit the button remotely, the comms will scram—so be ready to disappear.”

Skrunkly (whispering to Cassie):
“Promise you won’t let him push early?”

Cassie (deadpan):
“I am not babysitting his theatrics. I am babysitting survival.”

Steamton (suddenly quiet, almost sincere):
“I will not press early. I covet both my hat and my continued existence.”

They take positions—Kitsune near the vats to watch for leaks, Jotaro at the core exit, Cassie in the tower to ensure comms cut, Skrunkly behind a crate (panicking), Steamton with the trigger.

THE JAM — SUSPICION BLOOMS

Steamton brings his gloved paw down. Nothing. The button clicks but the detonator’s light stays stubbornly dark. He frowns, taps again—no response.

Steamton (frowning, light coughing):
“Huh. Stiff button. Maybe the theatrics need a tune-up.”

Kitsune (eyeing the detonator):
“Let me see that.”

He steps forward—closer inspection. A smear of faint green residue coats the detonator’s rim, sticky and foul. Everyone freezes.

Cassie (quiet, horrified):
“That’s sludge residue. Someone smeared it on the trigger. Deliberate sabotage.”

Skrunkly (gasping):
“WHO WOULD TOUCH THE BUTTON WITH SLUDGE?!”

Steamton (protective):
“W-WHOEVER SULLIED MY BUTTON SHALL HEAR ME— cough ”

Jotaro (flat):
“Not now. Fix it.”

Kitsune (coldly):
“Either someone tried to stop us from destroying the factory, or someone wants a misfire that kills us. Both are bad.”

Cassie (eyes narrowing):
“A mole either within that factory or here. This is proof. The sabotage was precise—no random smear. That was planted on purpose.”

it's been 2 days when is the sequel coming out

wait, Vadrina died?

No
How the thing works is 5 entries will go on a mission at a time, Vadrina already went last mission and has to wait 4 more missions to go on another
in fact she did pretty well imgflip.com/i/aff9za

FAST DECISION — JOTARO’S MOVE

The team scrambles. They can’t waste time wiping slime by hand; cameras pinged by movement increase detection risk. Jotaro steps forward without ceremony.

Jotaro (quietly):
“I stop time. I get that button working. Five seconds. Hold positions.”

Steamton (alarmed):
“NO! TIME STOPPING IS LIKE CUTTING IN LINE—”

Jotaro (flat):
“Shut up.”

Jotaro snaps. The world hiccups—sound grinds. Star Platinum’s presence thickens. For five electric seconds, the world is his. He crouches, fingers like iron. With brutal precision he tears the sticky residue from the rim, peels it off carefully, slides a tiny strip of cloth into the seam, and tugs the detonator’s contact open to reset the circuit. He positions a small spare relay from his pocket into place—mechanic hands moving at impossible speed. Then time slams back.

Steamton (eyes wide):
“I—THAT WAS—”

Kitsune (respectful, low):
“He moves like a storm.”

Cassie (breathing):
“Good. Button’s functional. No trace remains of the gunk.”

Jotaro (breathing hard):
“That was… five seconds.”

PRESS — AND BLAST

All four give a final nod. Steamton breathes, makes a little conductor’s motion, and presses.

Steamton (dramatic, teary):
“FOR THE CONDUCT OF DEMOLITION—PRESS!”

(At his press, a wave of clicks echoes through their earpieces. The bombs accept the signal. Then a heartbeat later—BOOM—an internal detonator sync. It’s not an immediate singular rupture; instead, a cascading demolition hums through the factory like a groan of old metal. Panels buckle. Support columns shudder. In a controlled sequence, the conveyor hub shudders and collapses inward, vats rupture in a controlled venting, the core implodes, and the control tower collapses in a fountain of sparks.)

Kitsune (shouting over the roar):
“MOVE! NOW!”

They sprint. The factory becomes a living thing—alarming, collapsing, metal screaming. Sludge sloshes and bubbles in massive geysers. Workers flee; alarms compete with the roar. The team races to the extraction truck as corridors collapse behind them.

EXFIL — NARROW ESCAPE

They pile into a service van. Steamton slumps, coughing, but grinning wildly; he had his drama. Skrunkly cries with exhausted giggly relief, hugging a seat cushion. Cassie checks her hands for ritual residues. Kitsune is silent, tails flicking, eyes scanning. Jotaro leans back, sunglasses askew.

Steamton (manically satisfied):
“OH! WHAT PERF— cough —SPECTACLE! I KEPT IT SAFE! I KEPT IT—”

Kitsune (scowling, then softer):
“You did not set off the entire facility prematurely. Thank you.”

Cassie (grim):
“Good. We moved clean. But the jam—someone tried to sabotage the detonator. That’s not the factory defending itself. That’s someone with access—either in there or here.”

Jotaro (quiet):
“A deliberate smear. Someone wanted the button to fail or to jam us.”

Skrunkly (hushed, shakes):
“Mean people.”

AFTERMATH — BACK AT BASE

They return. The tiger cub bounces at them like a hyperactive greeter.

Tiger Cub (excited and shrill):
“YOU DID IT! FACTORY DOWN! BUBBLES—GONE! SLUDGE—NO LONGER FACTORY SLUDGE! CONTRAPTION—STILL MYSTERIOUS! WHO WANTS A PRIZE?”

Steamton (wobbling, still clutching detonator):
“PRIZE: I GET A MEDAL! ALSO, DO NOT HURL QUESTIONS AT STEAMTON!”

Cassie (pulling Steamton aside, low):
“You should not keep that detonator in your pocket. You should also know someone smeared sludge on it.”

Steamton (defensive, coughing):
“I—who would sabotage their own button? Unless—unless someone wanted to make us fail. But we didn’t! We didn’t!”

Kitsune (grim):
“Evidence suggests deliberate tampering. It could have been from someone in the factory—maybe an inside man—but the residue was fresh. It could also have been handled between us and the target. That narrows suspects.”

Skrunkly (sniffling):
“Someone is sneaky and stinky.”

Jotaro (staring at the group):
“Someone here had access to the detonator or to someone who touched it.”

Cassie:
“And they knew exactly what to smear—sludge, not grease. That’s a message. Or a misdirection.”

Steamton (clutching his hat like a talisman):
“WELL WHOEVER IT IS—STAY AWAY FROM STEAMTON. I WILL SING THEM A SONG.”

Tiger Cub (sudden, sharp):
“MYSTERY IS MYSTERIOUS! ALSO—YOU ARE WORTHY! NO ONE DIED FROM THAT ONE! CONGRATULATIONS! NOW CLEAN YOUR HANDS!”

(They disperse. Quiet conversations circle the room like prey. Eyes linger just a second too long on certain people—on the quiet ones, the hands that moved little, the ones who had proximity. Suspicion bubbles at the base like a poisonous undercurrent.)

Cassie (to Kitsune, sotto):
“We should audit access logs. And check who touched Steamton’s pack between briefing and deployment.”

Kitsune (nodding):
“And who had the opportunity to smear the button. Someone either inside the factory or… someone here. That’s dangerous.”

Jotaro (one last look around the hall):
“We watch. We don’t accuse. We wait for the next slip.”

(The tiger cub wheels away, squeaking about celebratory snacks. The team exhales, fewer in number of nerves than at the start. They won this mission—but the jammed button is a wound that stings. Someone is playing both sides, and they’re getting bolder.)