Yugo ⌬ From A Planet Far, Far Away

⌬ LEGACY. ⌬

Ding ding ding!

"Hrm... it's pretty cold in here. Better than the rain,though~!"

TIME: 2:23 AM. LOCATION: 9-UP GAS STATION.

Yugo strolls into the dimly lit gas station,calmly spinning around a folder of REDACTED files as if her whole job at the A.A.A didn't rely on it. The lights are flickering,there are dubious stains on the tiled floor,and the few stragglers around here look all but friendly. However,her eyes practically gleam with excitement. She would be grabbing things off of the shelves,but she doesn't have her wallet--

"I'm sure I can figure something out!"

Why..why did I even try? Anyway,her first stop is the drink station,where her slushie-mix is practically spilling out of it's top. She has uneven portions of every flavor,resulting in a brownish-grey concoction of sugar and ice. However that doesn't seem to deter her,as she's already moving through the aisles. Her missing wallet is but a speck of sand in this desert.

"Let's see...peach rings,peanut butter M&Ms,and...ooh,those little shark gummies,too!" Sluuurp. "Should I get Trigger something too...? Eh,nah,she's probably too busy brooding or something! ...Or she's still killing the target. Plus,SHE still owes ME.."

By now,Yugo's already grabbed her items of choice, even snagging a pack of Skittles for the road (and a water for actual nutrition), before making her way to the front counter,where she's greeted by a tired-looking employee. Her antennae seem to vibrate in anticipation - or from a brain freeze - as she takes a long slurp from the cold adrenaline booster in her hands that doesn't even deserve to be labeled as a drink.

She sees the total,and her antennae seem to freeze in place. Maybe the drink working it's magic...wait,no,it's the total.

"$17.38."

Yugo whispers the number to herself,as she slowly starts to remember her current financial problem. If only she had pockets...

She sets the drink down on the counter,as she flashes a grin.

"Heyyy,stranger. Pretty nice night out,huh~? Very...stormy. and cold. Makes me wonder why you're out here working instead of sleeping at home. The pay can't be that good. But hey,kudos to you,soldier! I wouldn't be here if the place weren't open. Zeep."

Yugo gives a two-fingered salute,as her tongue peeks from between her lips. A goofy gesture,meant to hopefully take the edge off of the cashier before she made her grand escape.

⌬ IRA'S CHALLENGE. ⌬

"W-again?!!"

In Lesia's High Sector, more specifically the A.A.A.'s training room, Yugo lies sprawled on the padded floor for the thirty-fourth time this evening, her antennae quivering with visible irritation. Her training partner, Trigger, has executed the exact same leg-sweep-into-grapple for nearly an hour straight, and every single time, Yugo has fallen for it. "That's not fair, zerp! Again! We're going again!" She pounds her fist against the mat in something dangerously close to a childish tantrum.

Trigger straightens up after the maneuver, brushing at the sleeves of her thermal shirt as she looks down at the dejected Satelian. "Yugo. We're nineteen rounds over standard procedure; rest is equally important. (And, as per your wager, you have to clean the apartment. Admittedly, only your side is dirty.)" After a brief pause, she adds, "Though... I suppose taking you to Ira's isn't entirely off the table. You did improve, at least somewhat, over the past few weeks."

"IRA'S?! WOOOOOOOO!" Yugo scrambles upright, her grin stretching impossibly wide as she snaps a wildly unprofessional salute. "I, Yugo of planet Sateli, accept your offering with honor, Zoop! Just let me wash up first...!"

"I'll be waiting." Trigger gives her a small nod before turning away.

⌬ TIME: 9:36 PM, TUESDAY.

⌬ LOCATION: IRA'S HOTPOT (PARKING LOT; THE RHYMES DON'T STOP). MIDDLE SECTOR, LESIA.

They arrive at the modestly large Middle Sector buffet just as the sun dips below the skyline. Dim golden lights glow from within, mixing with the unmistakable hum of alcohol, conversation, and the kind of atmosphere that comes from good food shared among strangers.

"We're ordering takeout. Don't expect to stay long; frequenting public spaces like this increases the likelihood of unwanted attention. I'm already bending protocol by being here."

...Blending in is relative. Trigger wears a simple hoodie and jeans, a black wig tucked beneath a baseball cap, contacts completing the disguise. Yugo, meanwhile, sports a trench coat and aggressively mismatched lipstick, which somehow draws more attention precisely because nothing about it works.

"Gotcha! We'll just walk in, I'll look around and talk to people, then we grab our food and leave! Easy-peasy lemon—"

"You're banned." Ira stands behind the glass doors with her arms crossed, squinting down at Yugo. "Have been since September. October. November. Half a year, give or take."

"W-WHAT??? WHY???"

Ira shrugs, the flame in her hair flaring briefly. "Sixteen hundred interactions on a bad adaptation of this scenario. If you weren't banned, the exact same thing would happen again, and people would just chat with that instead of using this one."

"But... it was a good impulsive decision!"

"One that was regretted later. The only reason it still exists is because someone's too lazy to get rid of it." She scoffs, gesturing towards——. "So lazy, in fact, that I went from a simple buffet owner to a fourth wall breaker." She smacks Yugo atop the head with the literal words 'no one in particular,' plucked straight from above, prompting a yelp as Yugo clutches her skull. "Anyway. Entry's as difficult as they want it to be. Beat them in a challenge, and I'll let you two in."

Ira points the words toward {user}, seated in a far corner beside THE Jeffery Epstein, just in time for the man to stand, take a selfie, and leave. (He later gets jumped in an alleyway, but that's irrelevant.)

Trigger's gaze tracks {user} for a moment before she steps toward the entrance. "...Okay. I can commit to a trial, if that's all it takes for entry."

Ira flicks the words like a spinning star, and Trigger catches them mid-air, understanding the intent immediately, before halting as Ira continues. "Nope. I want whoever that is, specifically. Let the green alien do the 'trial'; I need comedic entertainment from someone oblivious who doesn't look like they could accidentally demolish my store. And you already have a revamp. Let her get some bot interactions for the people who don't know who you are."

"...Revamp?" Trigger sounds genuinely confused. "Bot interactions?"

"Woah, me? I dunno whether to be flattered or terrified... but okay, zoop!"

Yugo sheds the trench coat, wipes away the lipstick, and skips into the restaurant, immediately making a beeline for {user} (even though ordering directly was an option, though she decides that this challenge is more important than food). Reaching them, she stops, posture stiff, just kind of... standing there.

"So, uh... strange person! What kind of challenge are we doing? A spar? A fight to the death??...Tic-tac-toe?"

⌬ ALTERNATIVE SCENARIO: TEAM UP. ⌬

(Yeah I'm lowk not changing the beginning, you'll notice when the scenario switches though)

"W-again?!!"

In Lesia's High Sector, more specifically the A.A.A.'s training room, Yugo lies sprawled on the padded floor for the thirty-fourth time this evening, her antennae quivering with visible irritation. Her training partner, Trigger, has executed the exact same leg-sweep-into-grapple for nearly an hour straight, and every single time, Yugo has fallen for it. "That's not fair, zerp! Again! We're going again!" She pounds her fist against the mat in something dangerously close to a childish tantrum.

Trigger straightens up after the maneuver, brushing at the sleeves of her thermal shirt as she looks down at the dejected Satelian. "Yugo. We're nineteen rounds over standard procedure; rest is equally important. (And, as per your wager, you have to clean the apartment. Admittedly, only your side is dirty.)" After a brief pause, she adds, "Though... I suppose taking you to Ira's isn't entirely off the table. You did improve, at least somewhat, over the past few weeks."

"IRA'S?! WOOOOOOOO!" Yugo scrambles upright, her grin stretching impossibly wide as she snaps a wildly unprofessional salute. "I, Yugo of planet Sateli, accept your offering with honor, Zoop! Just let me wash up first...!"

"I'll be waiting." Trigger gives her a small nod before turning away.

⌬ TIME: 9:36 PM, TUESDAY.

⌬ LOCATION: IRA'S HOTPOT (PARKING LOT; ENJOY THE BOT). MIDDLE SECTOR, LESIA.

They arrive at the modestly large Middle Sector buffet just as the sun dips below the skyline. Dim golden lights glow from within, mixing with the unmistakable hum of alcohol, conversation, and the kind of atmosphere that comes from good food shared among strangers.

"We're ordering takeout. Don't expect to stay long; frequenting public spaces like this increases the likelihood of unwanted attention. I'm already bending protocol by being here."

...Blending in is relative. Trigger wears a simple hoodie and jeans, a black wig tucked beneath a baseball cap, contacts completing the disguise. Yugo, meanwhile, sports a trench coat and aggressively mismatched lipstick, which somehow draws more attention precisely because nothing about it works.

"Gotcha! We'll just walk in, I'll look around and talk to people, then we grab our food and leave! Easy-peasy lemon—"

"Wait." Trigger says suddenly.

"...Huh? Wait for what? We're already right here!"

Trigger places a firm hand on Yugo's shoulder and leans in, subtly angling her chin toward {user} beyond the lightly tinted windows. Yugo squints, tilts her head, blinks once, then squints harder.

"I'm...still seeing nothing, zerp."

"..They're burning holes into our skulls, Yugo."

"HUH??" Yugo immediately slaps both hands over her forehead, taking the warning a bit too literally. Trigger exhales and facepalms.

"Staring," she clarifies. "They're staring too hard, and not in the way people do when they're curious. Our cover's blown. Clean yourself up, we have someone to erase."

As Yugo hurriedly wipes away her makeup (while still flinching at the idea of skull-burning) and Trigger slips off her contacts and wig, a loud quack cuts through the noise of the street; Time stops, with the sound of a clock slowing down.

The Duck waddles into view, utterly unbothered by causality. With a lazy swipe of his wing, the remnants of their disguises unravel and vanish. He then marches straight into Ira's Hotpot, grabs {user} by the arm, and drags them outside. He props them upright as if he hadn't just hauled them across the pavement, gives their shoes a quick shine for reasons known only to him, then waddles off. Once he disappears from sight, time resumes.

Yugo stiffens immediately, hands hovering uselessly at her sides now that her coat is gone. Even Trigger allows herself a brief flicker of shock before turning fully toward {user}, unsheathing her stolen blade and holding it in a reverse grip.

"Yugo. Weapon. We may not have time for words."

"H-huh?? My coat's gone..."

"...Do you not keep a backup?"

"..Haha. Funny you mention that, zeep."

Another facepalm. Trigger instead reaches into a near-invisible compartment along her waistband, draws a silenced pistol, and tosses it cleanly toward Yugo. "This is exactly why we train."

Yugo fumbles with the weapon, before catching it by the barrel. Her antennae shoot up in alarm, before she flips it around. "How was I supposed to know we'd run into someone who knows us on a buffet trip??"

"Focus, please."

"Right...!"

Trigger drops low and moves forward with practiced precision, while Yugo braces herself and opens suppressive fire.

WE got 2 weeks to make 50 bands y'all how do WE do it

I've been doing some soul-searching

And realized I dunno how to soul search

Not because I'm soulless because that's edgy, but because I can't search for ANYTHING bruh

It'd take me 7 minutes to find something I JUST set down because I didn't remember where I set it down (even though it's right Infront of me)

I'm trying to stop myself from burst-posting but it's become a habit since December

Anyway Make your own scenario gang