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Several snaps from a camera resonated from the now empty audience seats. The view in front is phenomenal—a mountain of mindless people stacked on top of one another, and the cleaners fighting to clean up the mess made by Mymo and his pawns. A low whistle came from the person behind the camera.
“Those are janitors? They look pretty scrawny to me!”
Click. Snap.
A loud banging noise startled the conscious ones in the area. The once held up camera is now settled on the laps of its user. They turned their attention towards the person two seats away from them, whose glasses reflected the soft light from the stage—contrasting the rather violent scene playing on it.
The person fixed their lenses and let out a scoff, “Don’t underestimate them now. They’ve been through countless trash beasts that even we don’t know about. For all we know normal people could be just a speck of dust in a desert for them,” They trailed off. “And believe it or not, they are trying their best not to kill anything sentient in here. Well…
Except for that one.”
Two pairs of eyes land on a figure on top of concrete rubble. One knee close to her chest and an arm rested onto it. A comically large pair of scissors are held up, blades down, by the other hand. Riyo’s head hung low, sharp, green eyes fixated on a spherical shield just below her.
Like a predator scouting its prey.
“Felix,”
The said man glanced towards the direction of the voice. Mymo stood idly, microphone in hand. A tingle had run down his spine, a sense of primordial fear pricking at him. Felix, whom he’d called, looked at him curiously yet didn’t bother asking what the matter was. After all, how could he, a mere mortal, understand Lord Mymo’s thoughts? So he stood there, comforted by the barricade he’d enclosed himself in along with his Lord.
“… The time has finally come to test how ironclad your barrier truly is.”
Felix grunted, eyes below furrowed brows looking up to confront the green glows. How could a pair of dull blades sever this sanguine bulwark of letters? All of which are very dear to him, especially the one of his late wife’s. There is no way mere scissors could cut through this love so powerful.
Meanwhile, Riyo could feel her hands twitch, running every possible way to puncture this solid sphere—and here comes Zanka, playing tag with a ball-crazed clown. After the harlequin-slash-baseball player finished her last sentence about being able to turn any sphere objects into breaking balls, Riyo felt as if a lightbulb had lit up on her once jumbled thoughts.
Ah-ha.
Now how do I make this fun?
With the ripper now held with both hands, she dashed towards where Mymo and Felix were entrapped in, swinging her makeshift baseball bat and—
“Riyo takes a mound… And throws a pitch!”
For a second, everyone is dumbfounded. Mymo and Felix flung up the air. The moment of gilmero hitting the ironclad carta seemed to happen in slow motion. Dust filled the air, Riyo’s smile grew wicked, Zanka’s eyes grew wide. Then, time ticked back as it did.
“W—“ Zanka’s feet seemed to have minds of their own, or maybe it was a sense of adrenaline. “Why are you sending them to me?!” His panicked voice could only have Riyo let out a string of laughter. Because why the hell would he worry about being hit by the orb? She knows he’s capable of handling that big of a ball, and she knows she wouldn’t let Zanka get hurt by her actions. So, in a flash, her back is against the once freaked Zanka’s.
“Hey… I’m cutting this one down. Lend me a hand?”
Zanka’s brow twitched, “Ha… You better not mess this up!” Then he burrowed his assistaff deep underground, withstanding the pressure of the spherical defense’s inertia.
Felix didn’t know how to feel; scared, or impressed. The fact that this young girl assessed the situation and quickly came up with a solution that could be effective is not normal for a teenager. But just before Felix could feel relief that his shield is not breaking,
ripper’s blades delved into the seemingly unbreakable defense.
“… Hey, Reaper,” the weather reporter called out from inside. “How’s your father?”
Click. Snap.
Worn-out handwritten letters scattered around like colorless confetti. Felix fell knees first on the hard ground, clutching the shredded letters close to his chest, agonizing. The once bright smile on Riyo’s face darkened, the glow on her eyes dimmed and the ripper fit perfectly in the palm of her hand—blades out, pointed towards the bespectacled man. The redhead pounced, tip of her blade dug shallowly on a very vital part of Mymo’s neck, enough to draw blood. The latter instinctively recoils away from the peril, but his wonky hair was gripped tightly and pulled harshly before he could even evade. Mymo tried to fight back, but later realized that his microphone was hurled away from his grip.
“I’ve never really liked you, weatherboy.” Riyo draws a short laugh, “Whenever you’re on screen, a vein seems to always pop out from my temples. I just got the ick. Maybe your voice is too shrill. You should’ve worked on that.” And then she dug deeper into his neck.
The sight of blood and the look of anguish in Mymo’s face stirred something suppressed inside her. Something tells her not to do this—taint the ripper with another man’s blood. But another tells her that he brought this upon himself. Short fits of hummed giggles erupted from her, and then it turned into cackles, and then maniacal laughter.
She leans in, whispering in the man’s ears, “If I happen to shoot you right now and say it was a mistake… Who would stop me?”
The place was dark and eerily unpleasant. Trifling noises drowning in the background. Zanka is nowhere near her, probably rushed to assist Rudo and the twins with the gigantic, erratic dolls.
Hmm.
Well, screw it!
Riyo’s hand, ready to pull out the piece from her jacket’s inner pocket, was abruptly grabbed and gripped tight.
“Riyo.”
“…Enjin.”
The older man pulled her away quickly, setting her beside his figure. His sight locked with hers, and deep within his golden eyes conveyed disappointment. Riyo didn’t like that.
Mymo scrambled away, finally free. Rudo chased after him. Riyo stood there in silence. Enjin assessed the girl in front of him.
“I…” Riyo trailed, “I’m sorry.”
There was a lull in the air despite the chaos.
And Enjin beamed, patting Riyo on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry. You’ve held back pretty well. I didn’t expect you to snap like this right now, and I know you wouldn’t have done this carelessly. But if this happens again, I’ll be here to stop you from tarnishing yourself further with blood.”
The girl stared for a while, and then smiled. Why was she so pressed, anyway? This just means she needs to meditate more next time!
“Well,” Riyo grinned. “Just another reminder for me to be better!”
“But hey,
Where’s Mymo?”