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Killian Riley was utterly, hopelessly confused.

Not that this was an uncommon occurrence for a sixteen-year-old boy, but Killian had something of a...special situation. For over five years, he'd heard about the mysterious "terrorists" that had been sabotaging the city and how horrible they were. Sure, the good guys let sometimes uncontrollable monsters roam the streets on a regular basis, but the terrorists? They were the worst thing that had ever happened to Destiny City. Killian, being young and having very little context, believed every word the government had told him.

Then, little more than a month prior, he'd been attacked by one of the aforementioned allied monsters, and...[i[something had happened. Even at the time it had barely made any sense...but someone who definitely looked like a terrorist had showed up, done...something to him involving...portals? Mirrors? Then they'd taught him how to make flashes of light out of concievably nothing, used him to beat the monster, then left without a trace.

The only evidence of what had happened that night was the wand he'd received and the strange costume that appeared on him whenever he used it. And judging by the costume...he was one of the terrorists now.

So he'd spent the last month or so going out into the city every few nights -- whenever he could focus on the idea for more than five minutes -- and aimlessly wandering around in his terrorist garb, hoping he'd run into whoever had "saved" him again. He was learning some interesting things about the city, but somehow he hadn't been located by anyone...yet.

This night in particular, he'd managed to find a house that no one was staying in where he could rest for a few minutes. As usual, his search for answers had turned up nothing. Maybe he had to do something to attract attention...send up another flash and see if he caught anyone?

But first things first...there was a piano, and pianos begged to be played, regardless of his lack of experience with the instrument.

After a few minutes, Sailor Apalapucia heard a yell from outside the house.



It wasn't a happy greeting, but it seemed that he had finally found someone. There was no way to tell if this person was with the authorities or not -- and they probably were, if they were threatening him -- but he had to take his chances. He was a terrorist, so he was doomed either way.

Apalapucia glanced back at the piano for a few seconds, then headed to the door. "Uh...I come in peace!" he yelled. "I am...I'm just looking for some help! Can you help me?"