Contrasts

There are two kinds of people in this world.

Fruits

The Agama Fruit Festival wasn't something the Kobbers got to see. It was one of those "off-season" events that the locals held, and it just so happened to be at a time when the group wasn't present for it. Which was a bit of a shame, because as the stalls rose up in the Grand Agama Market, bannas were hung and flags flown, it definitely would have been a sight they would have enjoyed, had they been there to witness it.

Those helming the festival had prepared all year for it. Stalls laden with the finest, ripest produce filled the streets with colour from one end to the other in a riot of hues. The scents, too, changed the air, replacing the drab smells of the air with the refreshing aura of green things, from the zest of maracuya and lulo to the floral hit of feijoa and so much more. No expense had been spared - everyone had a stall to call their own, and all of it lead down, like the threads of a spiders web, to the market square. It was here that those with a more enterprising mindset sold merchandise and more to any tourists that happened to be passing through.

The shouts of vendors as they bade customers come to sample their wares, the rows of well-tended fruits and the music that filled the air mingled together like threads on a tapestry, creating an atmosphere of relaxed jolity and well-being among the assembled people, Yes, it was a good time for the city. A time to relax and celeberate everything that was Agama. 

And, they assumed, with no superhumans or monsters to worry about.

They were proven wrong very quickly.

"AH-HA-HA-HA-HAAAA!"

Dying of the Light

WARNING: Mentions of emotional abuse, heavy existential dread. Reader discretion is advised.

You haunt me.

Ultraman Trigger looked out on the universe.

Billions upon trillions of stars, flashing like pinpricks in the inky darkness of the cosmos, unfathomable light years away. Nebulae swirled and churned in a rainbow storm of dust and life-to-be. Planets turned their circles, sometimes show and patient, sometimes at speeds incomprehensible to mortal eye. All around were lights, sounds, colours - things that would stagger the imagination of any human able to perceive it all in this way.

But Trigger could find no joy in it. No solace from his thoughts.

Every lie. Every sick joke. Every waking moment. Thousands of years gone and the memory of you still burns.

His almond eyes seemed fixed on a point so distant that mortal eye would bleed if it attempted the same feat. He did not breathe - his kind did not need to, and in this near-total vacuum there was no point. Behind him, the shining sun of Earth - Sol - raged on, throwing out its fire across the face of the one planet orbiting it that could ever support intelligent life. It looked close, but it also seemed somehow incredibly distant, as though perspective and distance had become optional things.

And Trigger knew, in the back of his mind, that there were thousands of other universes out there, with their own Sols and their own Earths, each doing the exact same thing. Some younger, some older.

He derived no comfort from it.

That's all you are now. A memory. A thought in my head. And you leave me here, alone.

Anger

WARNING: The following contains an implied instance of transphobia and thus may be distressing to certain readers. Also the word 'gringo' is used. Discretion is advised.

He knew he shouldn't really have been up here. He had to help the others in the juice bar. Grandma Micaela was out to get ingredients, and it was late afternoon in Agama, which meant heat and stickiness. Customers would be flocking into the bar in droves, and there'd be only two others tending bar. Both of whom would be rushed off their feet keeping up with demand.

But Valério Freitas needed to be in his room so he could work out some anger.

Anarchy in Kuwahawi (18+)

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King of Time Gaiden Part 2

"What's goin' on?"

"What do you mean, what's going on?!" cried Evolto. "I should be asking you that! Didn't I just run you over in a Void Jumper and turn you and the rest of the band into milkshake?!"

"The hell are you on about?" Russ sounded equally as confused. "Where are you? Why's Queen playin' in the background?"

"I'm at the Spirit House!" A sudden urge came over Evolto. He grabbed his shorts and began to hurriedly put them on. But he was still feeling somewhat dazed from the Superfast Jellyfish, and fell over with a yelp and a thump.

"Well, we ain't there, man. We're at Lake Como, Italy. Murdoc bought tickets as an apology for the whole truth serum thing. We've been filmin' for our next single, and Noods and Steph are havin' a blast on the new boats. Also, Stu thinks he saw a lake monster, but I think he's just gone aquaphobic after Plastic Beach."

From the prone position, Evolto finally wiggled into the shorts.

"So I didn't just liquefy you?" he asked.

"No, but can you explain why somebody just bought pizzas on my company card?"

Oh, dear. Russel's voice had gone low. That was when he was most dangerous. Rusell Hobbs very rarely raised his voice, and that was only the second scariest thing about him. When it became even more of a growl than usual, you had to pick your words carefully or risk any number of injury, comical or otherwise. Evolto stared at the phone with a mixture of nervous tension and confusion.

"Wasn't me, man. I just spent the last hour or so eating expired snacks and playing Tekken. And cleaning up the mess," he added, hurridely.

Russ snorted. "Okay, first off, no way that's true. You're shit at Tekken."

"Am not!" Evolto threw a middle finger at his phone.

"Secondly," Russel insisted, "somebody just ordered pizzas. Three of 'em, to be exact. I'm lookin' at the delivery email... one Meat Feast, one anchovy and pineapple - eurgh, Muds' favourite - and one pepperoni with BBQ sauce. You wouldn't know anythin' about that, right?"

"Are you kidding?" cried Evolto as he wrestled the t-shirt over his head. "Last time I borrowed somebody's card, I had to go work as a hotel maid until I could pay it all back! I ain't goin' back to that life, man! Even if the outfit does look good on me!"

"Well, somebody just did. And if I gotta freeze my card because of- Oh, hold on a second, Stu just fell in the lake. I'll call you back, 'kay?"

The phone went silent. But Evolto's mind was racing. The facts didn't add up. Not only were Gorillaz alive, they hadn't even been in the house. They'd been elsewhere all this time, and also somebody - not him - had been ordering pizzas on their dime. So if he hadn't just killed one of the most influential bands of the mid Two-Thousands, then who's slurry did he just send Kouta out to reconstitute into...?

He walked back into the dining room.

The goo had been trying to stand up. It had faded to corpse white in colour, sprouted too many eyes and jutting fangs and tried to pull itself into a coherant shape. But there wasn't enough of it left for that anymore, too much of it obliterated by cosmic forces. Evolto arrived just in time to see it finally evaporate with a hiss and the stench of rotten eggs and dead fish.

A memory struck him like a speeding truck.

"Oh, shit."

King of Time Gaiden Part 1

Things were not great at the place the band known as Gorillaz called home.

Murdoc had never really given up on being a shithead. Despite everything the band had been through, none of the lessons seemed to stick in his head. The fame and fortune of the band had never been enough - he always had at least one finger on the thread of some criminal or supernatural connection to try and boost himself even further into success. This time, he'd been on the trail of a particularly nasty demon that had taken refuge in 2D - why, nobody knew.

But his idea of negotiations with a being of the astral plane was to lure 2D out to a nearby petrol station, under the pretext of a friendly afternoon drive, and then jab him with a needle full of truth serum.

Thankfully, the other three band members had arrived before any real damage could be done. Well, to 2D. Russel contributed to Murdoc's ninth broken nose, and Noodle didn't exactly make much effort in pulling the drummer off of him. And all while Stephen had been exorcising the demon out of 2D with what recipes he could call on. The Skinwalker Incident had left him low on supplies of magic ingredients, unfortunately.

So to say that the last few days had been trying would be an understatement. Murdoc had become sulky, feeling that nobody had wanted to hear his side of the story. Russel was deathly quiet and both 2D and Noodle kept very far away from them both. Stephen had tried to play meditator, but one catty comment too many had caused him to snap and he'd threatened to eat both bassist and drummer before storming out. It had taken Noodle half the day and several bowls of chashu ramen to calm him down.

Things weren't much better today. It had been a warm, lazy day where nobody wanted to put effort into anything, so Russel had ordered pizza. They were all sitting at the table, opening up the boxes to let the smell of cheese, meat and grease fill the dining room for what felt like the umpteenth time. Murdoc was sitting a little further away from everyone else, and Noodle sat a little closer to both 2D and Stephen. all three of them between Murdoc and Russel. Nobody was looking each other in the eye.

The silence was broken when 2D turned to Stephen, coughed and said:

"Um, could you pass the hot sauce?"

And then a Bleed-traversing spacecraft burst out of reality like pus from a boil in the middle of the dining room.

It may be comforting to know that the band did not notice this. Because its entry was accompanied by a pulse of raw space-time energy that instantly liquified them on impact.

Induction

The journey to Earth wasn't the problem. Ryuga had plenty of reading material and things to do, and the ship was pretty fast. It only took him about a month or so to get there. And traveling alone wasn't a problem either - the other Wyverns were needed back home, in case the Benthians brought more trouble. He'd miss them, of course, but he'd been assured he could stay in contact, so that was alright.

He understood his orders well enough. Rumours were going around that somebody on Earth was supplying the Benthians with their tech. How and why, nobody could guess - no ships had ever been reported carrying such cargo into Porphyrian airspace. So Ryuga had to invesitage. Laura had promised to handle much of that, so the boy wasn't too worried about that part.

The problem was, upon disembarking, he was told to report directly to the Base Commander in her office with all the other pilots.

-------

"Welcome to Earth, you sorry sacks of shit."