The Short Story Corner
This is where random, disconnected stories that aren't exactly part of a bigger whole will go. These will be fairly varied, so... yeah. Enjoy them if you want. They may be fairly random in terms of content too. Of course, more will be added when necessary.
Fish don't bark. At least, that was what I thought. One day, me and Maia went to the Bridgepoint Aquarium. It was a lot smaller than say, Monterrey Aquarium, but it was still nice. The ambience was impeccable.
Me and Maia sat on a bench looking at a tank filled with jellyfish when it happened. Some guy came running down the hallway, screaming.
"FUCK YOU, MANGO!" He shouted with frenzied rage, "KOGASA WILL NEVER LOVE YOU!"
Me and Maia were obviously baffled at what this guy was doing. He threw his cap at the tank, and that was when I noticed the logo on it. It was of the Bridgepoint Aquarium. He seemed to be an employee, a janitor to be precise. A trail of water led away from him and to a discarded mop that had fallen on the floor.
The man walked up to me, his wrinkled face contorted into a scowl.
"SHE WILL NEVER LOVE YOU!" He screamed at me, causing me to jump back, into Maia's body.
"What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted. Maia scooted away from the janitor.
He took deep, yet strained breaths.
"AND JUST LIKE THAT BLUE-HAIRED HETEROCHROMIC FREAK, I GOT A SURPRISE FOR YOU!"
The janitor slapped me in the face. The impact was so strong that I instantly blacked out. The last thing I heard was Maia screaming, asking if I was ok.
The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital bed with the biggest headache of my life. Maia sat nearby, her face lighting up as she saw my eyes flutter open.
"Omigosh! David! Are you ok?"
I groaned in response.
As if on cue, a doctor walked into the room I was in. He smiled slightly as he observed that I was awake.
"Do... you know what happened to me?" I asked him.
"Oh, good. You're awake," he replied. "You endured quite the blow over at the aquarium. Fortunately, you won't be suffering from anything other than a possible concussion."
"Thank god..." I said. "So, can I leave now?"
"Essentially yes. Though I have to check some stuff first."
The doctor then tested my reflexes, stuff like hitting my kneecap with a mallet. It was all over in a couple minutes.
Me and Maia were relieved to have left the hospital. As we went to our hostel for the night, she caught me up on what happened. Apparently, the janitor was arrested by security shortly after I was knocked out by him. He would be interrogated soon, but it seemed like he just lost it.
We neared the hotel, passing by a small koi pond off to the side of it. That was when I heard barking. I looked around, confused. I didn't remember any dogs around the premises of the building. Maia noticed.
"David? What's up?" She asked.
"Um... do you see any dogs around here?"
"Uh... no? Why do you ask?"
I turned to the pond. The barking was coming from inside. What sounded like a legion of dogs was barking there.
I went to the koi pond without hesitation. I looked down at the koi, and they were all looking at me. They were barking at me, chastising me.
I started breathing heavily as Maia put her hand on my shoulder.
"Babe? What's up?" she asked.
"YOU WILL NEVER LOVE ME YOU FOOL!"
I backflipped seven times away from Maia as the koi continued to bark at me.
"DO YOU HEAR THESE FISH BARKING?!" I shouted.
"David, what the fuck?!"
Maia ran towards me.
"KOGASA, YOU DON'T DESERVE MY LOVE! YOU HETEROCHROMIC BEAUTY, YOU!"
"My name is Maia, not Kogasa!" she shouted. But it didn't matter.
"YOU DON'T DESERVE MY LOVE! ISN'T IT SURPRISING THAT THE FISH ARE BARKING? LOOK AT THEIR TONGUES!"
I ran to the hotel's wall, just outside a window, with Maia in hot pursuit. I looked at her like a cornered animal, waiting to make a run for it.
"David, stop!" she screamed. "You're making no sense!"
Her brown eyes sparkled, tears forming within them.
"YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE MAKES NO SENSE?"
Maia was taken aback by the question.
"This makes no sense!" she said.
"WRONG..." I snarled, kneeling to the ground.
"GUERILLA TYPHOON!"
Then, I detonated. You heard that right.
I only know this because of what people told me after I woke up in the hospital for a second time. My body, somehow intact, exploded with a 10t TNT equivalent force. I suffered from several broken bones, including a broken leg.
Maia, however, was less fortunate, but still miraculously alive. That was what the doctors told me when I woke up. However, one peculiarity was that, for two weeks after the incident, both me and Maia were referred to as 'Kogasa Tatara' until corrected.
This all went back to the fucking janitor.
A Bridgepoint native by the name of Jacob "Jack" Terrence Howard, he had been infatuated with the 'Touhou Project' for a few years. What nobody knew until my detonation was that he was a magician. Police and ORSoM investigators ended up finding out he was a magician by interrogating him.
Further testing by ORSoM people revealed his... unique power. While most magicians have a fairly logical power, such as controlling an element or telekinesis, his power involved channeling his delusions into reality through other people, hence the name given to it: delusion channeling.
He knew about this power for at least a decade based on a diary that was found during the investigation into my detonation. But he chose me to use his powers on for a really insane and petty reason.
It turns out that he was in a Discord server with a female cosplayer going by the username 'BrellaHandle.' She and Jack shared a favorite character in the francise, the aforementioned Kogasa Tatara. This character, the youkai of surprise based on my skimming of her wiki page, did have heterochromia.
After BrellaHandle shared a photo of her cosplaying as the aforementioned character, Jack became infatuated with her. The police recovered several days' worth of DMs of Jack advancing on BrellaHandle before she understandably blocked him.
This enraged Jack. He began shadowing her on all corners of the Internet, waiting for the moment to strike.
That was where I came in. Both me and BrellaHandle just so happened to be staying at the same hotel in Bridgepoint by sheer dumb luck. He had landed a job as a janitor at the aquarium a few months prior. He must've overheard us plan on going to the aquarium, and that was when he hatched his scheme.
BrellaHandle stayed on the first floor of the hotel, in a room right by the epicenter of my detonation. His screaming and wailing at the aquarium was a side-effect of him using his delusion channeling. The slap on my face was necessary for him to channel his powers through me, as was discovered during both testing and an investigation of the diary. After I went unconscious, I was effectively his puppet.
Jack had a mild form of control over my body and psyche which extended for even far distances. He must've been laughing like a madman once he detonated me over by the hotel.
BrellaHandle, somehow, managed to escape alive, but was just as injured as Maia was. Both of them would be permanently paralyzed from the waist down.
Me and Maia are doing ok now. We've learned to accomodate her newfound disability, and are closer than ever. Same with BrellaHandle. In fact, all three of us got along together. That sick fuck made our bonds stronger, and it's enriched our lives.
As for Jack... he was convicted on one count of assault and battery, one count of attempted first degree murder, as well as some other charges related to cyberbullying and harassment. He got slapped with a nice, long sentence.
He deserves it.
But one thing still confuses me.
Why the hell did he make the koi bark?
Josephine saw the blue-haired girl again. To her dismay, she looked sad... again. As they approached each other in the misty terrain of their shared dream, the blue-haired girl chuckled. Her voice was weak, a tear streaking down her face unnoticed.
"Funny I should see you again," the blue-haired girl said, "right as I'm about to start school."
"I'm about to start school too!" Josephine replied, running up to her.
They sat together, their bodies obscured by the pale blue mist as they felt for each other's hands. They connected, but didn't feel each other's warmth.
"God, I'm such a fuck-up..." the blue-haired girl said, turning away from her. "This is the fifth school I've been to in the past few years."
She sighed.
"Aghh... this is my senior year too... man, what the hell... I feel like I've thrown my life away."
"Oh come on!" Josephine interrupted. "I'm sure you could turn your life around, somehow! You're a magician, right?"
"Yeah, same as you. What difference does it make?"
"I mean, you could still go to a training school! They subsidize that stuff, I think."
"Pfft... do you think they'd accept me after seeing all the times I've been expelled?"
Josephine looked down. Ever since she started meeting the blue-haired girl in her dreams, she'd grown more and more defeatist. This was the first time in a couple months that they'd met, and even in that time, this demeanor had grown more overt.
"But... you could still do... something, I dunno... you just gotta put in the effort," she finally responded.
The blue-haired girl sighed, letting her fingers into her hair.
"I guess so..."
She looked up, pondering for a moment. Then she turned back to Josephine.
"I wish we could tell each other our names... it'd be so cool to meet in real life."
The mist encroached on them. They both knew it: the dream was about to end. The blue-haired girl sighed again.
"Fingers crossed for tomorrow?" she asked, offering a weak smile.
"Yeah," Josephine said.
The Massive Mechanized Armaments project was a resounding success at neutralizing threats that emerged from the underground. Within 20 years of its implementation, the amount of gigafauna on the surface of the Earth had dwindled down to zero. Now, cities were secure with their MMA guarding them.
There was a cost, however; those who would pilot MMAs would have to integrate their minds into the mechanical body of each unit. In a sense, the MMA would be an extension of their body during each operation.
Consequently, most MMA pilots were at the age when their brains were plastic enough to handle the myriad stimuli coming in from each of the equally numerous sensors on each MMA.
This required the pilots to rest in a special incubation fluid to nurture their brains' latent abilities. Each of the 200 (and counting) incubators built across the globe housed one pilot assigned to protect a certain region.
The desperation during the gigafaunal outbreak meant there was little oversight on how pilots were procured and even who those pilots were.
Now, 20 years later, an investigation into the methods of the MMA team has begun.
ODTR-ROT-O108 and ODTR-ROT-O109 floated together, the white surface of the colonized moon contrasting against Prometheus's beige atmosphere, both thousands of kilometers away. The Replikas had found a nasty gash in the hull that threatened to compromise part of the facility if it wasn't dealt with. However, one of them had to hold in the affected plating so that it wouldn't become a new piece of space debris.
"You can hold it for me, right?" Nine asked.
Eight responded, "Sure," but doubt crept into her tone.
Nevertheless, Nine let her jetpack take her to the airlock as Eight hovered next to the hull, looking down at the surface of Rotfront.
A spacewalk was a routine endeavor for Ortolan units, but loneliness wasn't.
Eight grew anxious as minutes ticked by with no sign of her partner. "You'll be okay," she said to herself.
She did not feel okay.
As a corvette left the orbital platform, her hands shook. What if her Kosmonaut suit suddenly depressurized? What if her visor imploded?
What if she just floated away?
"No, I don't wanna leave, I don't wanna-"
Nine's hand brushed against her shoulder. She came with a fresh plate, ready to replace the old.
She apologized, "Sorry I took so long. Aras had a bit of difficulty finding the appropriate part."
"It's fine," Eight replied. "Just got a bit scared."
With a mind of its own, her hand grasped Nine's, causing the pair to smile.
"You're so cute, you know?" Nine said.
"No, you're the cute one!"
The two exchanged laughter before continuing their maintenance.
Luisa Maeng joined the crowd in applause as cries decrying the so-called ‘Great Vanguardist Revolution’ filled the room. Upon a podium stood La Patronne herself, Valentine Jeon, addressing the crowd with a sweeping gesture.
“Today, my comrades,” La Patronne said. “We share our art in defiance of a régime consumed by its lust for power, a régime wallowing in stagnation, a régime as despotic as the Empire itself!”
Another wave of cheers erupted from the crowd as the curtains behind the leader were drawn, revealing flags of the Eusanische Revolutionäre Futuristische Avantgarde flanking a mural showing the an abstract, dynamic urban landscape full of whizzing gears and the arms of Replikas and Gestalts alike.
Luisa activated her electric lighter, arcs of plasma lighting up for precisely 2030 milliseconds, visible to those at the edge of the crowd. Its noise remained unnoticed among the din of the futurists.
“Today, the tenth Futurist exhibition shall commence!”
Another hoorah bellowed out as Luisa’s compatriot, Léonie Miura, gave her a knowing wink. They exchanged a gesture before Léonie sunk into the shadows of the long-abandoned and massive underground warehouse.
Various ERFA members, Gestalts and degraded Replikas alike, began to guide the crowd through various chokepoints. Rows upon rows of artwork, no doubt bannable under one of many of the Nation’s Cultural Protection Acts, were unveiled. Abstract arrangements of shapes, blurred impressions of animals, and kaleidoscopic visions of various Vinetan metropolises flanked the walls of the ammunition depot-turned-exhibition hall.
La Patronne, brushing her auburn hair, walked with her bodyguards, almost blending in with the crowd.
“Degraded Elsters,” Luisa muttered as she followed her.
Luisa viewed the exhibitions along the way, making sure to keep up with Valentine. A man’s hand brushed her body.
“Gotta admire all this, right?” he, a middle-aged Gestalt named Otto Hsu asked.
“Yes,” Luisa replied. “Truly a marvel of the raw creativity of humanity.”
“Aye. We’ve gotta protect this freedom. Without it, who knows what those Vanguard Party dogs would do with life as we know it.”
“Agreed. Now, let us admire the arts.”
Otto nodded, letting Luisa go as she internally sighed in relief. La Patronne, thankfully, was still within eyesight.
A few artist booths later (one of which, she noted, was for a degraded Star of all people), La Patronne finally stopped to admire a painting. The diseased reds and oranges that the Gestalt used to paint Heimat’s great capital building as if it were a cancerous growth disgusted Luisa, but she held in her emotion.
As she took a few steps closer, La Patronne turned to face her.
“Ah, a new member?” she asked. Luisa nodded and introduced herself.
“Pleased to meet you, Luisa. I’m Valentine Jeon, as you know. Let me introduce you to my good friend Eckardt Sheng.”
“Pleasure to meet you this fine evening as well, Luisa,” the Gestalt said. Luisa took in his outrageously thick moustache which contrasted heavily against his bald head as she hid a smile from him. “Been a friend of La Patronne for as long as the ERFA’s been separate from the Vanguard Party.”
“Indeed,” Valentine said. “But please, call me Valentine, my dear Eckardt.”
Luisa suppressed her contempt for the artwork further before saying, “I couldn’t help but notice your painting back there,” pointing at the detestable depiction of Heimat’s capital building.
“Ah, this one! My newest work, Heimatastasis. Not my best, but everyone who’s seen it understood it instantly.”
“I can see that,” Luisa replied.
“Yep. Only a matter of time before those Vanguard Party dogs will get a taste of the people’s true feelings, I tell ya.”
“Indeed,” Valentine concurred. “Soon the winds of change will bless the Nation.”
“Yes,” Luisa added, “even if it requires painting the land with blood as red as that painting.” She gestured to Heimatastasis.
“It’s unfortunate,” Valentine remarked, “that there are still people who believe in what the Vanguard Party spoonfeeds them. We have no choice but to usher in the true Futurist revolution by force.”
Luisa reluctantly nodded at Valentine before she excused herself and Eckardt, instructing one of her degraded Elsters to guard his booth. That was her cue to leave and follow the pair at a distance.
She stared up at the catwalk. Two faintly glowing blue lights greeted her from the darkness above. A signal was given from Luisa’s electronic lighter: five short pulses of plasma. The blue lights vanished.
Luisa followed the two Futurist leaders until they hid themselves behind a fortress of crates. The walls did not hide their conversation.
“...after this, we have to act. Only the propaganda of the deed can galvanize the proletariat,” Valentine insisted.
“Yes… The situation here is dire, given the active reconstruction efforts. It’s only a matter of time before Vinetans are just as brainwashed as Rotfronters,” Eckardt responded.
“We’ll plan some sort of sabotage soon. Dietrich and Mila will help us out with it. They’ve gathered that sectors C and D are optimal targets.”
“Good, good. After the exhibition, we’ll take a visit to The Sixth Pint. I’ll invite them there.”
“Agreed.”
The two soon exited their impromptu conference room, the remaining Elster following Valentine as the other one swapped places with Eckardt. Oblivious to her presence, La Patronne accidentally bumped into Luisa.
“Ah, sorry about that! Your body felt quite heavy, I must say.”
“Does it?” Luisa asked.
“Very much so, my dear.”
Before Luisa could react, Valentine held her hand. “Hm… quite plastic-y, if I do say so myself.”
Luisa sent the emergency go-signal from her internal radio module.
“Are you a–”
A shot rang out from Luisa’s Type-75, missing her intended target and instead hitting one of La Patronne’s bodyguards in the chest.
“Another degraded Replika lost to time…” she thought as Valentine shouted “You Nation dogs!” at her, the crowd scattering away from the two as Valentine drew her revolver.
Valentine took a shot at her assailant, but the bullet instead met bullet-resistant armor hidden under a jacket.
“What…” she gasped as the telltale hoof-steps of many Replikas came from behind Luisa. “What kind of Gestalt are you?!”
La Patronne’s other bodyguard attempted to tackle Luisa to the ground, but Luisa leaned into her momentum, sending the degraded Elster crashing into the floor. However, the Elster’s hand grabbed her face, and a silicone mask and synthetic wig were dragged down with her.
WRGR-L7604’s black hair and trademark blue eyes were exposed. La Patronne’s face paled as she saw Star units pour in from behind her.
“I wear no mask any longer,” the Würger said. “You are under arrest for terrorism, treason, and all manner of seditious acts against the Nation.”
“How?!” La Patronne shouted. “I swore this place was safe from you! I am not relinquishing my freedom this easily!”
She took a few more shots at the Protektors with her revolver, only managing to hit one of the Stars in the shoulder. The Elster, having gotten up from the floor, sacrificed herself as she opened fire on them with her Type-84. This bought enough time for Valentine to throw a smoke bomb, cloaking the area in fog.
Despite the Würger and the Protektors’ efforts, La Patronne had vanished into the shadows.
“Verdammit!” she shouted. “We lost her.”
“This wasn’t entirely for nothing,” she heard WRGR-L7605, having dropped the mask of Léonie Miura, say from behind her.
The sister unit dragged a cowering Eckardt Sheng towards her and the Stars escorting her. He, bound in handcuffs, begged for his life.
“We won’t kill you yet,” WRGR-L7604 said. “We have a lot of questions to ask of you.”
“Oh… oh no…” Eckardt gasped. “Why…? why…?”
He, along with tens of Futurists attending the event, would be dragged to a Nation prison. WRGR-L7604 personally looked forward to burning Heimatastasis.
This had turned out to be an excellent cycle.
