Janelle
September 16, 2007. 12:11 p.m. No clouds. I made some time to visit Will between classes. He looks better. Well, that could just be wishful thinking. He still looks like he’s barely alive. I’m sitting beside his hospital bed with a small bag of snacks.
“Hey, Will. How are you feeling?”
He turns towards me and says nothing, but he doesn’t have to say anything. I can feel what he wants to say.
“I know you’re still on that gross hospital food, so I made you something.” I open my bag and bring out a small bento box. I pop it open and reveal a serving of home-cooked rice and little sausages I cut up into little octopi. “Want me to feed you?”
Will glares at me for a second before his eyes move towards the TV.
His stomach makes a gross rumbling sound.
Will sighs and tries to move his arms towards the bento, but his face contorts with every motion he makes.
“Will.”
Will closes his eyes, sighs, lowers his arms, and opens his mouth.
“Thank you.” I smile and shovel a sausage into his mouth. “What do you think?”
He doesn’t chew. He doesn’t swallow. He just lets it simmer in his mouth for a little while. Eventually, he swallows it, opens his eyes, smiles weakly, and looks at me. “It’s good… thank you.”
“I’m glad you like it. Want some ketchup with it?”
“Please.” he groans.
“You got it.” I start opening up a small ketchup packet.
“No, no.” he shakes his head. “Just drop the ketchup in my mouth.”
“Uh… are you sure?”
“It’s a Texas thing… you wouldn’t get it…”
“I’ll take your word on that.” I pop another sausage in, dangle the packet over his gaping mouth, and squeeze ketchup in. This feels weird.
“Aaah…” Will licks some wayward ketchup off his lips. “That’s the stuff… much obliged.”
“Anything for you.” I want to take off that silly cowboy hat and play with his hair.
“Can you give me some of that rice? It smells delicious. What kind of sauce did you put in it?”
“Teriyaki.”
“The sauce of Jesus…” A tiny, enormous smile appears across his lips. “Thank you kindly.”
I can’t help but smile and pop spoonful after spoonful of rice into his mouth.
Soon enough, he finishes the entire bento. I barely even saw him chew. He practically inhaled his meal. “Did you like it?” I ask.
“That was mighty delicious. Reminds me of an old friend’s cookin’.” Will smiles for a second, but his eyes look cold as ever. “How long have you been cooking?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call this cooking. It’s just grilling sausages and cooking some rice. A toddler could have done this.”
“Oh… so you don’t cook?” he sounds a little disappointed.
“Not really.”
“Shame. I bet you could whip up some good stuff.”
“What makes you say that? Do you cook?”
“Been cooking since I was five. It’s really easy when you don’t have to pay for cutlery.” his smile grows. “I imagine cooking would be easy given your Tech.”
I look down. “Yeah it would be. Say, um… if it’s okay with you, would you mind giving me some cooking lessons when you’re better?”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to make me those octopus weenies again.”
I smile. My lip quivers. “Sounds good.”
Vivian
September 17, 2007. 4:21 p.m. Been chilling in my dorm watching daytime television with Yuko and A.D. the whole day. One nice thing about being horribly injured is that I don’t have to go to any class till the doctors clear me. A.D.’s making himself some gnarly looking protein workout shake. Thing must’ve had at least six eggs in there. My stomach’s doing backflips just looking at it. Aaaand he just drank it in one gulp… I’m so glad I don’t share a room with him. Yuko’s sitting on the other sofa stitching together what can only be described as a combat skirt.
The commercials end and some news anchor starts talking. “We bring you the latest update on the aftermath of the carnage at the Natural History Museum. Reconstruction of the Coliseum has finally begun and is expected to cost up to $500,000 to repair.”
“Don’t feel too bad.” I pat Yuko’s shoulder. “The museum is priceless. We can always get another coliseum.”
“Mmhm.” Yuko doesn’t even look up at the TV. I don’t even think she hears the report.
The news anchor continues. “But the damage of the coliseum is nothing compared to the damage done to the local communities. As of now, 29 people have lost their lives from the carnage that night and 18 remain grievously injured and continue to fight for their lives.”
A.D. spits out some protein shake onto the carpet. “WHAT!? No WAY it’s that high!” He bends down and immediately licks the shake off the carpet.
“Yeah…” I look over at A.D. and block out the rest of the news report. “I didn’t throw anything at anyone.”
“I know you didn’t.” A.D. wipes some excess shake off his chin. “I even walked around the perimeter to check for any injured people. Oso only shot like five people and all of them were okay enough to talk until they got hauled off to the hospital.”
“Weird…” I poke Yuko’s cheek. “Did you blast anyone through a window?”
“Nah.” Yuko remains focused on her skirt. “Barely even saw anyone else besides the greasy dude. Might’ve knocked someone off their feet, but they were fine.”
“The hell…” A.D. continues sipping at his shake. “Maybe they’re counting the Lucky Clover incident in those numbers?”
“Why would they?” I ask. “That’s a completely separate incident. Plus they got different stats for that too.”
“The news sucks, bro.” A.D. takes another sip.
Janelle
September 17, 2007. 5:02 p.m. Dorm room. My team’s all home safe in our dorm. I’m cooking some bentos for everyone. Sejong is sketching something on the sofa. Josh is sipping on a can of beer next to him. Angela’s playing on her DS while sitting on Josh’s lap. I kept the TV because it’s good background noise for cooking.
The tired news anchor begins to speak. “We bring you the latest updates from the vicious street brawl on September 6th that has left more than three dozen dead and more than fifty hospitalized.” Censored footage from our encounter with Lucky Clover begins playing on the TV. “It has been almost two weeks since this senseless brawl between Lucky Clover and A.E.G.I.S. ‘heroes’ have ruined local neighborhoods. We now bring you interview footage from some of the victims’ family members. As always, we inform you that some of the following footage and speech may be disturbing to some viewers.”
The TV footage cuts to show six people sitting on folding chairs in a newsroom all looking absolutely despondent. Some are still crying. Others just sit there completely hollow. One of them is holding a graduation photo of a young man. He has a warm smile, soft cheeks, and curly hair. “This is my boy… And-”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Shut up already.” Josh lowers the TV volume and starts talking over it. “So full of crap…” He takes a big swig from his beer.
“What is wrong?” Sejong looks up from his sketchbook. “Do you think they’re exaggerating the numbers?”
“Oh god no.” Josh chuckles. “This is Lucky Clover we’re talking about. I wouldn’t be surprised if she downed 100 people that day. I’m just saying anyone who was shooting at us that day totally deserved it.”
“Josh!” Sparks shoot off my shoulders. “How can you say that!?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see the fire from the stove flow into my fingers. My torso grows hot and my back gets sweaty as well.
Josh looks back at me. His lips are stone cold and his eyes are as calm as a beach at dawn. My guts lurch every second I look back at him. “You remember the guys who bumped into me, right?”
“Yes…”
“They ran a dog fighting ring.” Josh takes another swig. “And I know I killed three confirmed kidnappers in that melee.”
“How do you know that…?” Sejong sinks into the sofa.
“Let’s just say… I had some associates in real low places.” Josh points at the TV. “And that ‘kid’ they’re crying over was a wife beater.”
“How do you know that?” I take a deep breath and try to relax my grip. It actually manages to work for once. Some flame retreats from my palm back into the stove… while burning the counter top black and charring a fresh roll of paper towels. I hate this.
“Used to play poker with the dude.” Josh smirks. “Got real mad when I won all his savings.”
I don’t know what to say. I am feeling many things. Too many things, none of which are good or certain. So I’ll just nod and keep cooking.
“If anything, we were doing a public service.” Angela chuckles. “None of you should feel guilty for that little encounter. We were just defending ourselves.”
“I suppose…” Sejong sighs.
“That’s my girl.” Josh ruffles Angela’s hair.
Jimmy
September 17, 2007. 11:54 p.m. Safe house. Everyone’s snuggled up nice on the sofa watching TV. Well, except for Oliver. He’s reading some dusty history textbook on the floor next to us. I’m lounging right next to Doc with a nice cold beer and some bandages wrapped around my chest. My chest still feels a bit funky, but I’ll live. Gotta be more careful… Those kids didn’t move like rookies. Am I getting old or did Suzy pump those punks up with something?
Just moved into a new safe house last week. It’s pretty cozy, but waaaay too small. It’s only got a den, a small kitchen, a puny bathroom, and a little bedroom that’s about as big as a prison cell. At least the wallpaper’s cute. TV’s pretty old too, but it works. Makes me yearn for the 90s just by watching it. We’re just flipping through the channels looking for something to entertain us before settling on the news.
Some smoking hot babe in a tight suit starts yapping about my little trip to the museum. “We have one final update to bring you regarding the death toll from the attack on the Natural History Museum on September 6th.” The lady maintains a professional face, but is obviously reading off a teleprompter. Can’t blame her. I can barely memorize a sentence. “42 people lost their lives and 26 were grievously injured in the chaos between a masked assailant and a group of local A.E.G.I.S. students.”
Doc turns off the TV and looks at me with her eyes half-open. “Jimmy. Care to explain?”
“Boss. I was super careful. I used the smallest caliber I could find, avoided all major organs and arteries, and made sure I didn’t throw any cars in any general vicinity of any civilians. I didn’t kill anyone that night.”
I can confirm. Junko’s voice echoes off the walls. No one died. There were only five wounded via gunshot and only ten injured from trampling or distracted driving. No deaths though.
“Really now…?” Doc yawns. “Those A.E.G.I.S. kids must be total amateurs then.”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “I was ready to catch anything they threw at me that might’ve hurt a civvie. Those runts were uncoordinated as hell, but they were careful. I didn’t see them hurt anyone.”
“Intriguing.” Doc closes her eyes and leans back on the couch.
A cold, but familiar sensation starts rubbing my back. The pressure gets in real deep in the parts of my back I can’t reach. “Aaaah… thanks, Junko. Didn’t know I needed that.”
Her adorable laugh bounces off the walls.
“Heh. Very spooky.”
Stay here.
“What? Why?”
Sssh…
Her voice leaves the room.
“Aaaaaw that’s not good…” I grab my double action from under the sofa, start loading, get up, and peek outside the window blinds. I manage to see a suspicious amount of cars in the street. Lots of dudes shuffling around the house too. They got these fancy armored suits and wild looking rifles. Let’s see… Could be U.N. guys. I’ve seen those guns before. There’s way too many to count. Might have some C.I.A. mixed in too. I glance up at the moon. Ah, good. Junko’s got this. I go to put my gun back under the sofa and-
BTOOOOM
The entire house rattles as the front door gets blasted open. Dust, metal, and wood go flying everywhere. Several flashbangs get chucked into the room. Yet before any can go off, one of the dudes opens fire and takes down six of his buddies. The rifle fires these big plasma beams that leave smoking craters in the dudes’ chests. It’s awesome.
The rest of the dudes open fire on him, take him down, but then another one just starts firing on his buddies.
Oliver hugs his book to his chest and rolls over to the kitchen.
Doc just looks up from the couch and watches over the carnage. She’s nodding like she’s watching an infomercial at 2 AM.
The process repeats itself until there’s a pile of smoking bodies around the entrance of the house. Some car alarms have gone off and a bunch of house lights from around the neighborhood flicker on. A single dude is still standing in the doorway with his gun pointed at his mouth and his limbs twitching and creaking like crazy.
“Bring him inside.” Doc yawns.
The dude’s body flies into the house and the door locks shut behind him. His helmet flies off and reveals a face that looks way too young to be in that suit. His body drops the gun as he floats between the sofa and the TV with his arms stretched out just a tad farther than they should be able to. Pretty sure elbows don’t point in that direction eiter. Sure, the dude deserves it, but it doesn’t make it any easier to look at.
Doc gets off the couch but keeps her quilt wrapped around her shoulders. “Who sent you?”
“G-go to hell… Give us the boy.”
“Junko.” Doc sighs.
The man’s left arm begins spinning like an overclocked windmill. His shoulder doesn’t move at all. Just his arm. Heard the axel pop and the tendons snap and everything. Pretty sick. The cool sick.
The dude’s mouth and head wretch as if he’s wailing, but no sound comes out of his mouth. I can see his throat vibrate though.
“Damn, Junko.” I laugh. “Look at him go.”
“Who sent you?” Doc places her palm on the dude’s head.
The dude remains levitating with his left arm dangling helplessly out of its socket. “D-department of Heroes...”
“Pardon me?” Doc tilts her head.
“Y-yeah… they want Oliver...” The dude tries and fails miserably at holding back his tears.
“Why?”
“Any government with half a brain wants the ability to rewind time...” The dude’s body continues to twitch against his will. “Government says they don’t want the C.C.P. or the Taliban getting their hands on him.”
“They won’t.” Doc smiles. “I won’t let anyone hurt him.”
The man tries to speak, but Junko just keeps spinning his limbs like they’re caught in a blender.
“Are The Elite involved?” Doc rubs the dude’s forehead with her thumb.
“I-I don’t know.” The man tries to shake his head, but Junko keeps that head nice and locked in place.
“Hey.” Doc lowers her right hand.
The man’s body lowers slowly until he’s kneeling on the floor. His eyes look sunken in and I can tell he really needs to take a piss.
“Do you have a family?” Doc asks and kneels down to meet his eye level. She’s smiling like my grandma used to. Makes my gut feel warm just looking at her.
The man closes his eyes and hesitates before replying. “Yes… I’m taking care of my grandma right now and living with my girlfriend… Just got a puppy too.”
“That’s very sweet of you.” Doc nods. “Not many young men would take care of their grandparents. “What’s the puppy’s name?”
“Bambi…” The dude takes a deep breath. His body has stopped shaking and almost all pain has evaporated from his face. “She’s a little chihuahua. She could fit in your hand.”
“She sounds adorable.” Doc runs her fingers through the dude’s hair and hugs him. “You want to see them again, don’t you?”
“Yes… More than anything…”
“Just tell us who and where your bosses are and we’ll let you go. I promise.” She cradles his head.
The dude gulps, nods, and takes a deep breath. “I was personally hired by the Elite and the blah blah blah blah.”
“Could you repeat that?”
“Blah blah blah blah.” The dude repeats. “Blah blah.” His eyes and mouth open. “Bla-” His eyes flood stark red and blood begins gushing out his nose and mouth. “The blah blah blah… blah…”
boom
I just barely hear an explosion go off around where the dude was kneeling. His body collapses face first onto the floor and a pool of blood begins rapidly expanding under him.
“No no no!” Doc flips the man over and presses her palm against his face. “You’re staying with us!” Green light emanates from her palm and flows into the man’s eye sockets, mouth, and nose. The blood stops flowing almost immediately, but his body remains as lifeless as ever. “Come on…” Doc’s voice cracks. “Please…” She never breaks eye contact with the dude. “I won’t let you die!” Doc keeps pressing her palm against the dude’s face for a good minute in complete silence before giving up. Light stops flowing from her fingertips when she pulls her hand away. Doc stands up, presses her hand against her face, and takes a deep breath. “Well we know for sure The Elite know about us now.” Doc shakes her head before looking at me. “Contact the mole. We need to move. Now.”
“On it.”