The backstage of the Neo-Tokyo Dome was a hive of activity. Roadies were hauling crates, costume designers were franticly sewing sequins, and Rebecca was currently trying to shove her tactical bunny ears into a neon-orange "STAFF" beanie.
It wasn't working. The ears kept popping through the fabric like stubborn antennas.
"This is a failure of stealth, Carrie," Rebecca muttered, pulling a oversized high-visibility vest over her black armor. "I look like a construction worker who wandered into a rave."
"You look great, Becca! Very... industrial-chic!" Carrie chirped, adjusting her headset. "Now remember, the show starts in twenty minutes. If you find the saboteur, try to neutralize them quietly. No explosions during the acoustic set!"
"I make no promises if they touch my server racks again," Rebecca growled, grabbing a heavy-duty toolbox that secretly housed a short-range EMP pulse generator.
The "Undercover" Mission
Rebecca moved through the rafters, trying to stay in the shadows. The problem was, being a well-known hero made "blending in" nearly impossible.
"Hey! Are you—" a young stagehand started, his eyes widening. "Are you The Bunny? Can I get a photo of you holding this pallet of water bottles?"
"I am a specialized technician performing a safety sweep," Rebecca said in her deepest, most "boring" voice. "Please return to your station, civilian."
"Whoa, she’s even in character!" the kid whispered as she stomped away.
Rebecca reached the pyrotechnic control bay. She knelt down, her internal sensors picking up a strange chemical scent. She pulled a vial of the fuel and ran a quick scan on her gauntlet.
[SCAN RESULT: SULPHUR-Z COMPOUND - EFFECT: EXTREME NAUSEA/FOUL ODOR]
"I knew it," Rebecca hissed. "Someone is trying to turn the front row into a vomit comet."
The Saboteur Surfaces
Suddenly, a shadow flickered near the liquid-nitrogen tanks. Rebecca didn't hesitate. She didn't use her staff—she used a heavy-duty roll of gaffer tape.
She launched it like a puck, the tape unrolling in mid-air to create a sticky snare.
"Gotcha!"
A figure in a sleek, pink-and-silver stealth suit tumbled out of the shadows, Tangled in the tape. The saboteur flipped back, landing with the grace of a gymnast. They pulled off their mask to reveal a girl with pigtails and a wicked smirk.
"Well, well. If it isn't the 'Muscle' of the duo," the girl mocked. "I expected you to be guarding the dressing room, not sniffing the fuel tanks."
"Mina Melody?" Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. "The lead singer of The Glitch Girls? I thought you were on hiatus after that 'accidental' wardrobe malfunction in Paris."
"Call it a 'creative sabbatical,'" Mina laughed, holding up a remote detonator. "Carrie’s voice is okay, but my fans think the Dome deserves a more... fragrant performance. One click, and the opening fire-burst will smell like a dumpster fire in a swamp."
The Confrontation
"Give me the remote, Mina," Rebecca said, her hand reaching for her toolbox. "You’re ruining a sold-out show for a petty rivalry. That’s not 'Idol' behavior. That’s just being a troll."
"Oh, I'm not just a troll, Bunny. I'm a professional," Mina winked. She threw a handful of smoke-pellets—except they weren't smoke, they were High-Density Glitter Bombs.
POOF!
Rebecca was suddenly blinded by a cloud of pink sparkles. Her sensors went haywire as the glitter jammed the delicate servos in her ears.
"Ugh! Not the glitter!" Rebecca coughed, swinging her wrench blindly.
"Bye-bye, Bunny! Tell Carrie to break a leg... or a lung!" Mina’s voice faded as she sprinted toward the stage elevators.
Rebecca wiped her visor, her tactical HUD flickering. "Carrie! Come in! The saboteur is Mina Melody! She’s heading for the stage elevator with the detonator! You have to stall the opening!"
"I can't stall, Becca! The music is starting!" Carrie’s voice came through the comms, panicked. "The 'Link Start' sound is playing! I’m going up!"31Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBcl3RuO1iX
and then Add to home screen.