#advkiko

@advkiko

Joy is… following her.

Not stalking, definitely not; it’s not like people stalk absolute strangers, and, well, she’s not stalking her. She’s just following the woman, that’s all, harmless walking that just so happens to be constantly behind her.

She doubts she even knows she’s there, hidden in a crowd of forgettable faces; today seems to suit her purposes just fine, and Joy figures – no one will even realise what she’s doing. And, hopefully, this means it will all go according to plan.

She’d chanced upon her entirely by coincidence; the woman had easily fended off some thief who’d gotten away with her bag (and by the end of it, left only with a black eye). The woman is curiously strong, and skilled, having made easy work of that poor unfortunate soul. By no means is Joy weak, but she’s found, to her absolute discontent, that she isn’t the strongest.

Joy has always relied on her speed and strength for far too long, never properly training her body to deal with threats. The basics are there, of course, easy enough to master through simple practice and just watching the fights she’d had a hand in engineering. She’s always assumed it was enough – it was not. Not with the last time she’d found herself in a fight.

So here she is, tracking the stranger she’d seen fight pretty darn well. She’s reached a relatively quieter street; it’s not totally isolated, but there are much fewer people around. It’ll bring much less attention to any sort of commotion that might happen here.

Joy revels in the quiet for half a beat, then sets to destroying any semblance of it, within a three metre radius around her. She sticks a leg out and trips some scrawny little kid, beleaguered by their books and bullies enough that they whip around unexpectedly to the group of teenagers, their swagger artificial and cruel.  “Fuck you,” they hiss, and the group of prepubescent kids manage to take down quite a few others with them.

Her target is just slightly off centre to the locus of her bloodlust, but it’s enough for her to start something; the fight blooming seems to have caught her in its warpath, cacophony of shrieks engulfing half the street.

@advkiko​

Growing up with this ability, Tzuyu could easily define the quality of the individual’s health by the quantity of their health bar. Sometimes, it was overwhelming to do so. Sure-- it helped if she ever was worried about her friends and family, but with complete strangers? That’s another thing. How would you like it if some teenage girl came up to you and told you that you were dying? You would think that she was crazy-- and therefore, the young girl does not say anything (like always). She cannot be subjective and must remain objective.

The coffee shop was always filled with people; those who come early to eat breakfast and those who are sleep-deprived in some quick need for caffeine. Tzuyu was the latter. She would come here every now and then, order a small cappuccino and blankly stare at everyone’s bars above their heads. Most were up in their 70 to 90 percent. There was a few 40s to 60s scattered around-- but rarely was anyone lower. Most of the time, age correlates with the percentage. It was rare for an 80 year old man to be at the green levels and rare for young, adult females to be at orange levels or lower. In this case-- there was one in the room.

Her eyes were attached to the bar above the young woman’s head. It was cimbing down in a steady yet very slow pace, the tone of the orange getting warmer and warmer. The woman turned around and Tzuyu’s stomach did a small flip, as she recognized the face through their affiliation with Daybreak Foundation. The name didn’t come to her head and so she was stuck with an unknown acquaintance. It was weird, the woman didn’t exactly seem to notice her depleting health yet if her HUD was right (which the young girl was 90% sure that it was correct), she would somehow feel it.