Anarchy in Kuwahawi (18+)

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Like Lightning, Part 8: Apocrypha

“It’s called the Apeiron.”

Dawn was glad she didn’t have to write it down. She had enough jokes about the word being written as ‘ape iron’.

“It’s a...vault, in the simplest of terms. Stuff gathers there. Getting in is nigh impossible. That’s why THIS-” The rod of blue metal. “Was literally scattered across dimensions. And the door? Or rather, doors? Equally hard to find. But it’s worth it.

“The items said to be in there...are absolutes. And considering the utter mess the attempts to find Neeko’s people are becoming, there’s an item in there that will cut through all the nonsense.”

“You may want to tell them why we need to jump through more hoops.” Vent said.

“...perhaps the rarest item there was called the Fate Locus. It was literally a book that knew everything. Mother...kind of stole it. For a time. Whatever forces are around the place, they don’t like my family. Or anyone connected to them. So we kind of have to...sneak in through a back door with a key. But it’s all right. I’ll just find what I need and use it and get the data and put it back and we’ll leave and EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE…”

“But first, we need to find a door. And as you may have guessed, these aren’t remotely normal doors. They might be here and then gone again when you look away. So we have to split up and look for a few...strong chances, you could say.” Vent said. “There’s likely to be danger, nothing like this ever manifests in a peaceful place.”

---

"I'll ride down the road and call the guard. It won't take long."

The villagers, huddled together, watched the blacksmith, who had lost weight and looked pale, ride into the fields for about ten seconds. They watched as something pulled him into the rows.

They watched until one of them stepped forwards.

"...are you alright?" He had the tone of voice of someone who didn’t want to know.

"I'll rrrride down the rrrooAD AND caaallll the GUARD. IT won't take Loooong."

The voice wasn't the blacksmith's. It wasn't going to be. It was the voice that people had been hearing in their fields for the past week. And then in their barns for the past four days. And now it was outside town.

Dumbly, they went home. They hung garlic over the windows and tucked their children in, and got old weapons from forgotten wars down from above the fireplace.

It didn't help.

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.

Like Lightning, Part 2: Send In The Clowns

“Dawn, I hate to be this one, but why is it that everywhere you go, no one likes you?”

Dawn’s response was to turn upside down, her hair remaining alarmingly in place despite the rig holding her having completely reversed her usual vertical position. Static electricity, she’d have said.

“People like me.”

“I have yet to meet one. Even the Kobbers just sort of go “Oh that Dawn, yeah she’s...acceptable.” Neeko, you don’t count. Provided they didn’t hurt you, you like everyone.”

Neeko nodded. “Neeko always try to. Sho’ma good for telling who is good and who is not.”

“If I had to venture a theory, beyond any flaws on my part, it’s because a lot of people insist on attaching all sorts of nonsensical smoke to their interactions. I’m not talking about being polite, I’m talking about putting on airs, presenting a false front, being a salesman, all that. A lot of people tolerate it or don’t know how to handle it, so they default to tolerating it. Myself, I don’t have the patience for it. So I push it aside and ask to get down to business. And they take it personally, because too many people tie their egos to their interactions. Which, I will point out, you have history with as well, Miss Merilee.”

“I never drew leather on anyone who-”

“Didn’t really ask for it. This is a circular argument and while I love debating, neither of you have the right mindset for it. That’s not an insult.” Dawn said, cutting Joy off. “I mean neither of you like to do it. Which is just what I need here. Someone who doesn’t feel the need to play around, either due to hardness or softness.”

“So what precisely do you want us to do?”

“Well, it’s simple. Get a job.”

“What’s the catch?”

“The job.”

Better Off Alone (NSFW)

WARNING: The following contains themes not suited for younger audiences or those of more sensitive dispotion. Viewer discretion is advised.

"And in related news, the Olympia Police Department have released the names of the two men killed in a bizzare incident in the Undercity Market Square. The individuals, Mercurio Pozzi and Umberto Ardizzone, were found dead outside a fruit stall owned by local gardener Bertrand Bellincioni at half past three two weeks ago in a mangled condition, with the only clue being an unidentifiable energy trace on the corpse of Ardizzone.

"Police have yet to identify the killer of the two men, who were known to be associates of the small-time Capitani crime family-"

"THE VEG DID IT"

"Stew, this isn't the time to editorialize right now."

"No, come on, it's so obvious! Two men dead in front of a fruit and veg stall?! CHECK THE VEG! The real killer's there!"

"...you never got over that incident with the courgette in high school, huh?"

"I swelled up like a balloon, Chick! It was awful! And I know for a fact that anything that grows underground is never good for ya! Ask that gardener what he's been growing in his back yard!"

"And a reminder, folks, never to watch Attack of the Killer Tomatoes before a major murder happens. Now, back to actual news..."

Good Faith

The playlist of the Body-n-Soul Fitness and Faith Center was definitely not one you'd hear at the club.

Nor was it one that you'd expect to hear in a place of worship or even a gym. But Body-n-Soul was both, a place where one could praise the good word with one hand and knock back a protein shake with the other. Where closeness to God was measured in push-ups and donations taken in where written down next to how many reps you’d done that week. A strange place, but in a place as strange as Olympia, the strange was home.

"Fifty-four... fifty-five... fifty-six..."

Jenny's feet pounded rapidly on the treadmill, her shoes almost blurs. Her breath came in minute gasps and pants from between her parted lips. Her face was flushed and her olive skin was shining with persperation that also matted her messy fringe. The silver ichthys bounced around her neck with every step, which came at a pace that would have made a casual jogger balk. In front of her, the eyes of Jesus Christ stared back at her from the glossy plane of a poster.

A poster captioned "Lord, show me the whey" as Jesus smirkingly held up a pot of protein powder.

She hated that poster so much.