Skit 07: The Assault On The Ninth

Groovemaster Murderface stood on a balcony overlooking the dance floor. She was proud. The Ninth Officio was celebrating a very good quarter session, and Kyuubey had tasked her with contacting a suitable group for suitable music. She had no idea what that square wanted, but she did know what she wanted, and she succeeded in making it happen. She had contacted the Seventh Officio, and requested a squad of their best to the Ninth on such and such day.

Naturally, since the Officio she represented, as well as herself, stood in such good standing with them, her request was granted.

When such and such day came, five noise girls came to the Ninth and straight to her. They told her they were the most bombastic beat layers the Seventh had to offer, and it showed. Their equipment - the powerful speaker system mounted to their shoulders, the sub woofers tied to their ankles, and a hefty instrument of musical death in their hands - was something she was impressed with. Only the best beat layers were upgraded with sub woofers.

After introductions and pleasantries, she told them what they were going to do. The sparkle in their eyes and the width of their grins told her of their joy. She still heard the way they said, "We would be proud to do this for you, Groovemaster Murderface." So eager to please.

Now at the event, they were laying it all on the line. Murderface wasn't disappointed. She felt the foundation shake, the air wobble; the room was thick with vibrations. Her bones were numb. She made note of the generous spirit of the Seventh, and made it a priority to repay them back in the future.

"Why aren't any of the normal investors here?" Kyuubey's voice was loud in her head. He didn't even try battling the decibels. He had jumped up to the balcony's railing and sat there, looking up at her. His tail didn't swish, his eyes didn't blink, and his lips stayed curled. His Groovemaster looked down at him. Kami-sama had a sense of humor for making a race of aliens with that appearance.

But the blasted little square had spoken to her mind, and that she couldn't tolerate. Murderface began to reach for him, so she could shoot him across the room, but stopped. He continued to stare at her. He had promoted her to Groovemaster, even after having to repair his hearing after each debriefing she gave. She... touched his head. A girlish squeal shot through her gut; he was much too fluffy.

"This is for the musical girls. Our normal investors would die in this kind of environment." She replied via telepathy. "I think you would know best on how to entertain them." It was for the better. She and investors should never meet. She killed one when he said that her music sucked. Problem was, he was one of the more prominent investors for QB Heavy Beats, and well liked by the others. Needless to say, that was a dark chapter in her life.

"You made a smart decision by excluding them. Their tastes aside, their organs would burst in here." She nodded, taking her hand off Kyuubey's head. She wiped it off on her pant leg, shuddering just a tad.

Done with her boss, she turned her attention to the party.

It was beautiful.

Girls drinking at the bar. Girls dancing, rubbing up against each other, on the dance floor. Some even were lounging on couches, mostly relaxing but some were fiddling around on their laptops. Girls were mingling together, talking, laughing. Everyone was having a good time, and she made this happen.

This party will counter all the despair that filled the last quarter year!

Unbeknownst to Murderface, another Officio was parking in front of QB Heavy Beats.

Girls with bulky electric guitars stood in groups of five, six groups standing around their unholy boss. Rockbey swished his tail to and fro, his yellow eyes scanning the entrance. They were the Twenty-First Officio, a fresh Officio starting out and they dreamt big. So big that Rockbey had his entire force of musical girls surrounding him, and he was about to launch a full scale war on one of the biggest Officios in town.

Thirty girls vs. nearly two thousand.

Rockbey had stars in his eyes, his blood ran hot, he had a fever. A fever for proving himself.

He jumped up on the shoulder of his best girl and swished his tail, grinning with teeth showing.

"Rock their worlds!" He ordered his girls. Their compliance was in the form of rushing the doors, hands on their guitars. Heavy metal riffs broke the doors in.

The Assault on the Ninth began.

Upstairs in the party, Murderface descended from her perch down to the dance floor. She wanted to have fun too. She cut in on a pair of dancers, smiling at the disapproving black haired beauty. She found out she was dancing with a blonde with curls.

"Ah, Mami." Murderface greeted her dance partner with a grin, shaking her body to the beat. Mami was retired, now Kyuubey's personal secretary. Thanks to Murderface's reputation, uniform, and rank, a wide berth formed around them.

"Groovemaster Murderface, this is an honor." Mami replied, smiling, not missing a beat in what was the previous dance.

"Let go of the formality, Mami. Call me Murderface."

"Alright, Murderface." Twirling, Murderface and Mami entwined their hands together and kicked their feet at each other. It was like a mirror, both giggling and smiling. At points they almost rubbed cheeks, hands still clasped. "You outdid yourself on this party, Partymaster!" Mami told her, trying to overcome a particular loud beat.

"Everyone deserves this, so it's the least I could do! Couldn't you feel that white square's influence slowing everyone down?"

"Yes, I could!" Mami nodded, biting her tongue in correcting her on respecting Kyuubey. She was probably the only one in the Officio that liked him. "All I can feel and see is happiness. I feel like crying, it all is beautiful."

"Don't cry, Mami! Let go, dance, rejoice all your fans to oblivion, for tonight is the only night that matters!" Their hands unclasped, Murderface's hands gripping her hips. Uncertainty flashed in Mami's eyes, but Murderface didn't see it. She rocked her with her moves, keeping instep with the Seventh's Beat Layers' songs. Murderface grinded away at Mami, getting closer and closer to her face.

"You should come out of retirement, Mami." She told her, in intimate whispers meant for a lover. "I'll appoint you as my Vindicare Lord, and make sure you have the best equipment available. Your combat prowess is sorely missed. YOU... are sorely missed." Murderface was serious about this, and had the power to make it happen if Mami said yes.
Mami was gifted with a wonderful trait: She possessed the ability of getting songs - any song - stuck into someone's head. The song would dice their brains up until it dribbled out their ears. And she had the marksmanship to do this from a very far away. To not have her on the active roaster was wasting her skill.

Mami blushed and smiled a kind smile, then shook her head. "No, Murderface. I'm retired, and I'm staying retired. The rookies need to prove themselves, and can't if a veteran like me kept gobbling up the missions."

Murderface stared at her in hurt, mouth agap, then washed the expression away, nodding. She came very close to saying some rather choice words about the rookies.

"You're right, but..."

"Ah, ah, ah, no buts, Murderface. I've made up my mind."

Murderface bit back her reply and continued to dance with Mami for a few songs more, then broke away with a kiss on her hand. "You're a very good dancer, Mami. Give my regards to your previous dance partner for cutting in."

"Hehehehe, I will, Murderface."

Times had changed.

Murderface found herself wishing that she could go back in time, to when she was a rookie and was still trying to prove herself. Now she had nowhere to go but down, now that she was at the top. People were drifting away, Mami was only the first, and soon others would be retiring. New faces would replace the old ones, the old ones would fade, and then she would have to retire.

The thought tainted her good time. Brought in some melancholy. She wasn't ready to retire from grooving out.

"Yo Murderface!" Hollered someone from behind her. Murderface turned and saw Kyoko staring at her, a wolfish grin plastered on her face. She gripped her hand in a secret handshake that they shared, which Kyoko completed.

"Kyoko! Where's Sayaka? I thought she would be dragging you to the dance floor."

"Hahah, she already has, Murderface! I waved at you but I guess you didn't see me, even if you could see the entire dance floor from up there. This is an awesome party, by the way!" Murderface nodded.

"Yeah,  I'm rather proud of it. The Seventh sent us their best!"

"Oh yeah? Well, it shows!" Kyoko gripped Murderface by the shoulders and swung her around, a hand reaching out. "See, Murderface?"

Murderface saw. It was even more beautiful up close. The dance floor packed, the lights flashing, the general ambiance, a girl flying across the air.

Wait.

Both of them observed as the girl hit an obstacle, cried out in pain, and dropped to the ground, where she twitched and groaned once. Her costume went out in a disco ball.

"D... did she just die?" Kyoko asked.

"Yeah, I think so." Murderface's eyes shot up to the balcony that she was just on.

Three Death Metal musical girls stood there, bulky electric guitars slung around their shoulders, their hairs unruly. Their eyes harbored intense hatred, their eyebrows reaching jagged downward. Metal muzzles adorned their jaws, three slits where their mouths should be. The lead girl stroked her guitar once, the chords playing music. The Seventh Beat Layers stopped their playing, their attentions on the scene unfolding. They probably thought she had called in another Officio.

Murderface turned toward them and shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. They narrowed their eyebrows. Suddenly, Murderface was pushed aside by a pair of firm hands, staggering a couple of steps before regaining her balance. She turned around as a screech filled the air.

Vocal waves assaulted Kyoko, who endured it with a gritting of teeth. The three musical girls were screaming at her in death metal fashion, concentrating where she used to stand. Their eyes twitched over to Murderface but they continued attacking Kyoko, planning on bringing her down despite her not being their target. She crouched lower to the ground, her hands shielding her soul gem.

Murderface saw her loyal bodyguard's soul gem cracking. Time was draining away from her life, and she wouldn't be able to save her. She was growing too old for this. She felt a wave of light headedness overtake her. However it wasn't for her to save Kyoko, but of the Seventh elite musical girls, their musical guns pointing up at the balcony, blasting beat riddled waves at the three girls. They were sent flying, shrieking for their lives.

More Death Metal musical girls ran into the scene, bringing down their own brand of danger to the overflowing room of ear carnage. Death metal screamed overhead, the dancing grinding to a halt as musical girls figured out they were under attack and brought out their own weapons. QB Heavy Beats, like the soviet bear, aroused itself to the fight.

Murderface reached down to Kyoko, brought her to her feet, and slapped a pulse gun into her hands. A momentary glance between the two was enough for orders to pass through, and the two stood back to back.

Groovemaster Murderface may be a tad old for this, but she was pissed off. The feel good party was crashed by an invading force of upstart musical girls. She nearly lost a very good bodyguard, and friend, due to her slowness, and to top it all off, they probably slaughtered their way up to this floor. She knew the girl that flew and died, had danced with her plenty of times. So many dead... for what? Murderface swooned again, lightheaded from the audacity of it all. It didn't settle right with her. Her home turf was under attack.

She transformed, a nova flash blinding all those around. All the other colors became bleached before the might of her purple light, covering her girlish body in its radiance.

The flashing, pulsing, alive-like light dimmed to the point of being painful. Everyone could see better now, but what they saw was terrifying. The peak of musical girl experience stood with serpentine lights glinting, her original pulse gun held in her slender hands. Her glasses glowed red. The brightness of her suit made it hard to figure out the configuration of her uniform, but they would swear it looked like a grandiose version of the sailor suit uniform. Six speakers sprouted up from her shoulders, all connected to two sub woofers strapped to her ankles. One hand went up to her neck, where a dial awaited, and turned her upgraded, all powerful Ragnarok system to the max.

Silence was snuffed out as a literal heart beat shook the building's steely skeleton. Her violent heart resurfaced, going into overdrive.

THUMP THUMP THUMP.

People had a hard time standing, crouching low to balance themselves out. Others fell onto their butts, overtaken. With the room's enthralled attention, Murderface simply aimed her gun at some musical girl, and held down the trigger. The targeted musical girl vanished within a clap of hard thumps, intense and swift.

WIGGY WIGGY YEEEEAP.

Chaos erupted. Fighting reigned supreme inside the dance floor of QB Heavy Beats. Murderface, hearing her younger days harken back to her, swung around, and killed off another musical girl. A glance was all that was needed to end someone's life, as if the song allowed her to see their hearts, and simply... stop their beating. They died unheard, and unwanted, to be dishonored later on for daring such unmitigated gall like assaulting the lion's den head on.

Any musical girl that slipped by her was pummeled by the crowd of irate musical girls.

Kyuubey, your white square boss, jumped onto your head with no warning. He didn't speak. You didn't speak to him. Swinging around, you checked Kyoko. She was fine, taking a breather. You noticed her soul gem had a very fine fracture, which would explain her fragile state. You stepped nearer, shooting down the closer targets.

THUMP THUMP THUMP WIGGY YEEEAP.

The floor became clearer and clearer of all hostiles, a few hotspots where they were literally curbstomped to death by the surrounding girls. Murderface swung around, face to face with a yellow eyed incubator. That smiled.

With white teeth it said, "You've grown old, Murderface. Your music is growing older by the minute. People are growing tired of it, of you, and are going to other styles that have been out of style. Face it; you're going to be come a hasbeen at this rate."

A shiver rocked her body. A hasbeen. It made sense. She was becoming a hasbeen. That would explain Mami's refusal to leave retirement, why she felt restless, why she was making sure this was a great party; it was her last hurrah. It all should have been easy, but she was losing her touch.

"Fuck you, this music is eternal!" One of the Seventh, now behind her, replied. The others piped up with a yeah!

Her music wasn't eternal, though. The heart beats grew slower, dimmer, less pronounced. Like a drugged heart, it was stopping. She was a hasbeen. The building shook no more, the strength leaving her arms, the pulse gun aiming lower and lower. Her eyelids drooped, a look of self pity growing upon her face. She was a hasbeen, a hasbeen, a hasbeen. The suit became a shadow of its former glory, like the greek fire.

"Gro-Groovemaster...?" The Seventh were startled by the rapidity in which Murderface declined to hasbeen status. Any further and she would be unreachable.

Mami wouldn't come back, she was only the first, soon others would retire and she wouldn't be to put together shindigs like this anymore. She wouldn't dance no more, wouldn't feel the beat course through her nerves...

"Don't... don't listen to that dog piss receptacle, Murderface." A familiar voice shot through the despair. Murderface decided to look, to see who it was that tried to save someone so worthless. It was Kyoko, who breathed a lot, spoke even more. The enemy incubator glared at Kyoko, spoke a few words, and the girl it rode upon aimed her guitar at Kyoko's soul gem, who made no attempt to guard it, too busy trying to save her principal.

Something... something in her mind told her something bad was about to happen. Something she would regret forever, and that she had only one chance to stop it. But why try?

"BECAUSE I LIKE YOUR MUSIC." Kyoko yelled at her.

"Wha-... y-you do?" Murderface asked, something pricking her heart.

"Yes. I like your music, a lot." Kyoko admitted, blushing a little.

Someone enjoyed her music. Her music.

She had a fan.

She let out a laugh.

She let out a tear of joy.

She had a fan who was about to die, and she was despairing in front of her, to boot.

Her song got stronger, her suit brighter, her senses keener. With one hand she gripped the neck of the guitar and pointed it upward, a wave of hostile music channeling through it a second later.

Thump...thumpthump...thumpthumpthump.

"No." Murderface shook her head, pressing the trigger to her gun. It went off in the musical girl's face, sending her back against the wall. The guitar was still in her hand. Holding it out, she aimed her gun at it and shot the thing to pieces, letting them fly toward their former owner. That guitar would never play again. She would never play again.

"I am NO hasbeen!" Her suit flashed brilliant, the song now shaking the building again. It was like being inside her violently beating heart.

"I am Rockbey, and I will be remembered LONG after you've faded." Rockbey screamed at her, at Kyuubey.

"I run a profitable business, my legacy has been secured, which is more than I can say for you, Rockbey." Kyuubey replied, which was fine enough for her. It was a good enough for a square reply.

Nodding, she said as much. Then she leveled her pulse gun. Kyoko toughened up a little, and joined her in leveling her gun. Next the Seventh joined in, their speaker systems tied into yours, the same song pouring out. Finally, every other musical girl in the room locked ranks behind them, their speakers letting out the same song.

"Murderface."
"Yes, Kyuubey?"
"Expel theese upstarts from my Officio."

The word was given.

WIGGY WIGGY YEEAAAP.

A wall of violent beats came out of the pulse guns, slamming into the musical girl and her boss. They hit the wall with the force of a punch from a drunk man angry with the world. It laid in on them, devastating the wall behind them, until they were pushed through. A hole was all that was left of them, excluding the splats which would be them on the city underneath.

Murderface let out an exhale. She felt her foot tapping, her head start to bob, causing Kyuubey to fight for balance. It was a good song. A very good song. She began to thrust her pelvis into the air along with the beats, her arms going up and down, her victory dance in process. Kyuubey was flung off her head in her joy. Soon everyone was mimicking her; thrusting their pelvises, bobbing their heads, tapping their feet, and moving them arms up and down in the air.

They resumed their dancing with brand new air conditioning.