Another glorious day in the lives of the Wel Zelevas party.

Explosions. Explosions and gunfire, in extreme amounts. There's no end, I hear it even here, inside my home, with pillows smashed on either side of my head. It doesn't help, it doesn't deafen it, it doesn't make a single bit of it any quieter. I'd of loved some earmuffs, but the militia's keeping those for themselves. I don't know why, but they told us it was important.

Though, I guess if it's for the 'defense of the town', I don't really get a choice. I… mean, getting shot doesn't sound really nice. I've seen what happens when people make that little girl mad. Or how hard the captain beat that guy when he was found stealing. Or how that one guy's been in that jail down there… He screamed. A lot.

Why couldn't I just afford living in Lastation? It was cheaper. I just couldn't get a stable job! Why did I trust those guys when they said that there was a safe town nearby? I'm such a damn idiot!

...More explosions. I hear a scream, too, and shudder. What are they even doing out there? It's horrible, it's probably… No, no, I don't want to think about it. They're bandits that are dying. Not normal people. Bandits.

Or… were the bandits originally normal people like me? Or is this town the group of bandits? It's hard to really tell.

It started off so well… kind of. I mean, it wasn't as bad as it started out. The original mayor… she wasn't all that great, sure, but she tried. There was a bit of a decent time for it, back then. We weren't led by a bunch of militarist nutjobs, at least! I mean, who gets shot for not turning over their shoes? Really?!

I sigh, turning onto my side, letting the pillows fall limp onto the bed beside me. They're not even good pillows. Lumpy and worn and kind of smelly. And the blankets are kind of scratchy, and there's always that strange, nagging sense that something's crawling on me…

Eeeugh. I feel it again. Little, tiny tiptiptiptiptiptip up my legs, along my arms… I don't like it. Why couldn't they leave me with something nicer?

It's probably the militia's doing. I doubt that incompetent, idiot mayor even knows we're suffering. He's always bumbling around, shooting people like it's nothing. Why is he accompanied… no, wait, there were revolutions and people tried to kill him, huh? Ah, wait. That's beside the point.

It all started with those militia jerks, years ago. I remember being around for a lot of it, though no one will tell me any of their thoughts about it. I mean, it's a little weird that a lot of them just move out of town when they start to open up, but still…

...Actually, a lot of them do that, don't they…?

I sit up, moving to dangle my legs over the edge of the bed. I should get up, do something maybe. It's too loud to sleep, and I hate laying under the sheets if I can't pass out. The explosions have gotten a little quieter, too, so I shouldn't have to worry about the gunfire getting too close to our part of town. Yeah… back into the mountains toward Planeptune. I'm sure it's fine now.

Creaaak.

The boards are so old and shoddy, I'm always really scared that I'll just go through it one of these days. I asked them to repair it a few times, but they just direct me to the… um… the girl…? The guy…? The minister that oversaw the industrial parts of town. I still don't understand what happened to that person or how they just turned into such a… well, it's uncomfortable.

But… well, it's nice. There's not enough women in town. I sent in a lot of complaints about that and there's been no response about it. Why are there so many guys here? The old mayor tried to keep it kind of balanced back when she was around.

Why did we change again? I don't understand. She didn't let the militia do what they wanted. She was good. She didn't just… carry some dumb wooden pistol or walk around with her hands on her hips in some stupid pose. She was beautiful, and strong, and nice…

...And not like… short, either. Why are the girls in this town either short like little girls or… previously guys? It's horrible. And they're really angry. And violent. Or drunk. Really, really drunk.

...Like… where does all of the alcohol go?

...Well, it's not like I'll ever find out. Especially since she's just so… angry. And mean. And unpleasant. Like, she's… kind of a bitch.

Goddesses, forgive me. That's horrible to say.

I scratch my messy, oily hair, sighing. It's getting long and gross. The running water turned off a while ago when there was some weird explosion in the town square. Some… giant thing came out. And then it lit on fire. It lit on fire. A giant tree, on fire… out of nowhere.

And then its branches just flew off into the sky… like some weird weapon. But not before it bounced off that absurd pub that just never gets destroyed, no matter how bad it gets. What even protects that thing? It makes no sense. I've seen explosions, weird gases seeping out of it, monster… things… just, I don't understand what happens in this town, and it all centers around that pub.

It's cursed. I'm sure it is. Like those rumors about that accursed Goddess-slaying sword. It's cursed by something. It's evil. And the town just accepts it like it's nothing! That stupid, alcoholic sheriff was enamored with protecting it, and the new one is, too!

It's horrible. It should've been torn down a long time ago. It's the source of our misery, I'm sure of it.

There are weird people appearing in the town every day, wandering into it. They never even come out, with all the gunfire that results. I think I remember hearing about the mayor brutally killing someone unarmed in the bathroom this week…

...Why was he made the mayor anyway? I didn't even hear about him before he just showed up. He didn't show us any of his credentials, nor did he provide any suggestions or reforms for the town. He just sat back as the militia did whatever it wanted, growing bigger and bigger and stronger as it pushed us into forced service and… and…

...We were bandits. I'm sure of it. The town assured us that those were just 'dissidents' of some sort, but they were all militiamen that had all of their gear. Always when a caravan was going by our town. No one will admit it, but I'm positive.

I walk to the flimsy desk, the sole other piece of furniture on this floor, in my shabby bedroom, in my barren and picked-over house, pulling open the drawer. Yes… it's still here, untouched. The documentation I'd been putting together about all of the sketchy activities that the militia's been doing. And underneath it, a report about this town as a whole. I've pieced together plenty. I'll go with a caravan as a 'trader' for the town, keep it in hidden on me, and I'll go to one of the Goddesses with all of it. They'll know what to do.

They always do. It's this town that needs their blessing, not me. I don't get why that little… bitch… has to always yell at me about it. She's just smart mouthed and unpleasant.

I don't know why the Four chose her as a priestess. I wouldn't ever question their judgment, but… I question the girl herself. How can she sleep at night?

The ground rumbles underneath my feet and I frown. What's going on, now? Is there going to be some weird rupture that releases another deadly gas? Or some giant monster plant that appears from nowhere? Or a swarm of bees that carry someone off? Or some weird military vehicle that just slams through my windows?

...No, just something I can't see. It settles down just as quickly as it started, and then there's just… nothing. No result, nothing at all… No, wait, there's a chain of explosions in the distance. A lot of them… and then a lot of gunfire.

Someone died. I'm sure of it. Why? Why do people have to die? No one in Gamindustri died before I came here. The Goddesses defeated monsters and Guild Agents always came home. Here…

There's no good news. People just die. And die. And die. And die. Forgotten, like how the town's shape used to be before this week. And the week before that. Or how I can't even remember my neighbor's face, or who my neighbor was before that one died, or before that one.

It's never ending. It's horrible. It's nonsensical. Why does a place like this exist in Gamindustri…?

Was the Gamindustri Graveyard this bad…? I don't remember the stories about it when I was a kid being as gruesome as this place is…

A-ah. The ground's rumbling again. Stronger, this time, as my walls' cracks grow wider and longer like water spreading out after being spilled. I can't even fix that or pretend that that wall isn't going to give out. It's… I need a new house.

They won't give me one, though. Even if it falls to pieces right now and not a single piece survives. I'll just live in the ruins.

I need to get out. I should get moving right away. I don't want to keep doing this. What if the next rumble swallows me whole, like that other tavern was? What if I suddenly get blown up by some weird missile? Where did those even come from? I don't remember the Goddesses creating something so destructive.

Maybe it's all one collective bad dream. Once I get out of the town with these papers in hand, I'll wake up finally.

Step, step, step, step.

Each time my foot comes down, landing on the old, rotten staircase, my resolve grows stronger. Today will be the day. I'll go back, I'll get a job right away, I'll make something of my life. I'll never have to sleep in a ratty bed with a cruddy blanket and sandbag-like pillows again. Yeah… Yeah!

Once I step outside of that front door. Just a few more steps…

"Sooo…"

I scratch my cheek, staring at the rubble. It's fucked. Literally, truly, wholly. It's fucked.

"...It collapsed on the poor bastard?"

"...Yes, madame Sheriff."

"Neat."

Well, chock up another one for the death count. Another poor shmuck's housing decided to give way and just grant him a merciful, quick end. Nothing too surprising, nothing too terrible. Really, it'll save on some of our food rations, too, so it works out for everyone.

I shouldn't probably think that way, but, I mean… It's good news, really. I think I vaguely remember this place being the housing of that one uppity asshole that always got up in our business constantly. He just never stopped bitching. Like a whiny little shit, he always had some complaint to offer about where the town was going. Or would he of been more like an old fart, telling us about the 'good old days'? Hard to say.

I'd base it off his face, but it's under… like… seven massive pieces of building. The bloodstain proves that I'm not going to be able to discern anything from it even if I fish his ass out.

I wonder if we could build something useful in this place, instead of another shitty shack. Like another supply shed, or somewhere to dump bodies. Both are needed in abundance… or so I'd like to say. The latter more than the former, in seriousness.

"What, um, should we do, Sheriff? Should we retrieve his… body?" one of the men asks, my eyes shifting over to him in confusion. The fuck's he asking about? "...Ma'am…?"

"You mean dig out that bloody pancake? What's the point? Toss the ruined materials and the corpse in one of the sinkholes and be done with it. We can save on grave space if we do that. Ah, wait," I pause, nodding. I forgot, and I'm sure he was waiting for me to say it. "Check his body for valuables, notable shit, anything we can use. Let's hope he'll do more good in death than he did in life."

The man clad in leather with a rifle slung on his back grimaces, hesitantly gazing at the bloodstain. Wonder if this is one of the rookies? Our normal crowd wouldn't bat an eye.

"Lose the morality. It's not worth it," I state to him, waving a hand dismissively. I guess I'll get this shitshow started so I can get back to the pub sooner. Time to get to work with making a path to his pockets…

...Hmm?

Papers. Stacks of 'em, clipped together into neat little bundles. The fuck're these?

"...So…"

"So."

I rub the back of my head, a little confused. Why was the Sheriff sitting in front of me with papers talking about some of the daily ongoings of the town? Like, what was she trying to show me? When did she learn to read and write… no, wait, maybe I should've figured out if she already knew or not. I'd always figured she couldn't, but, maybe…

She half-lids her eyes, sighing. "It's not my fuckin' handiwork, dipshit. It's from some Joe-Schmoe fuck that decided to up and test his head against his house." He beat himself to death on his wall? "...It collapsed and killed him. Goddesses, you're fuckin' daft."

How am I supposed to understand what this small, angry child tries to tell me? She's either drunk, shouting angrily at the bar, or out shooting someone for disagreeing with her. Couldn't she redirect her attention to those annoying 'Organization' guys that keep showing up? I shouldn't have to be the one keeping those guys out! She's the Sheriff! What do I pay her for?!

Wait. I don't pay her. I don't get paid, either. Shit.

"...So what?"

"So…," she stops, frowning. Did she just intend to dump this in front of me and think that I'd know exactly what to do? She huffs, crossing her arms while glaring at me. "What're we doing with this shit? It's a detailed report about your bitch-ass and about how shitty this shithole is. It's shit. It's bad. What're you thinking we ought to do?"

I blink at her, mystified. "Um… make it disappear?"

"...Geeee, wow, Mayor. You're so damn brilliant. I'm in awe at your intelligence! Why can't all of us be as gifted as you are? A fuckin' scholar," she whistles, rolling her eyes. Slamming a hand on the table, I jump, much like my coffee mug. "Do you not fuckin' care that your dirty laundry is being observed by the citizens? Ya' think that it's not a big deal?"

Why is she so angry?

"I mean… it'll be fine. The people deserve the right to know, or something. Don't worry so much. Why don't you go dr…"

Slam. Everything clatters again.

"I fuckin' will! After I solve this with someone who's not a complete fuckwit!"

I watch an angry, small child storm out of the room, having grabbed the papers and pivot on her heel. The most colorful line of profanity I've heard from her in a long time bursts from her mouth as she disappears from my sight, the loud stomping against that poor, misfortunate staircase heralding her departure.

Why are women so angry?

I question this, grabbing the gun off of my desk. Maybe today, I'll get it to work…

I wonder where she's going with it, anyway?

I should buy the town more jets. Or jeeps. Or guns.

The papers collide firmly with the desk, causing the stacks on either side of my head to fly off. I briefly consider the possibility of simply bludgeoning the small creature to death, but remember that I would have to interact with the mayor even more if I did. Thus, I merely tolerate the urge and gaze up at her with pity for being such a worthless lush.

"What do you want, gremlin?"

She grits her teeth, inhaling as she raises a finger and a thumb to pinch the bridge of her nose, that secondary midget shooting me a glare from behind her. As if I would be intimidated by a gnome.

"Look these over, Captain Dickhead. I'll hope you give more of a shit about them than that incompetent fuckwit," she growls angrily, pointing at the papers. Does she think that I am blind?

"I would do so if I did not have an annoying drunk bothering me."

"Fine. I'll sit tight over here. Read it."

She steps back to lean against the wall, the second girl rolling a coin between her fingers absentmindedly. With the newfound peace, I turn my attention to the documents brought to me, skimming them over.

Hmm…

Hmm.

Oh? One of the town dumbasses actually noticed that? I will have to flog that guardsman for being inept at his duties. Not too hard, though. It was one of the useful ones.

Now for the important questions. First, is this goblin attempting to blackmail me? No, she is too dimwitted for it, and no one in this town would care enough to mind. Second, why was this brought to me? "What do you want from my reading this, drunkard?"

"Maybe some sincere fuckin' consideration on how we make it go away. Instead of just…"

The angry child devolves into a tirade of profanity as she normally does. Very well, she's merely informing me of an issue concerning inept militiamen. I do not need to kill her and the secondary midget yet. Excellent.

Waiting for her to finish, I nod. "Worry not, tiny creature. The problem will be solved so that you can continue idling away in the pub. Now, begone, so that at least one person of the town might actually do something."

"Fuck off. Just make sure that it doesn't bite us in the ass. Blame the mayor or some shit if it comes down to it."

"There is no need. The town would not even slightly believe it anyways. His incompetence is apparent, as you know," I explain flatly, knowing that I'm wasting my breath having to further elaborate for the incompetent law officer.

She stops, exhaling in frustration while scratching at her scalp. "Damn it, that's true. Hard to blame a dumbass that can't even accurately relay coordinates on a map for a bombing run."

The deputy behind the girl shudders, remembering something foul. Was it when the mayor nearly killed her with his incompetent orders while she was trying to defend the town from some stray monsters? A shame that he repeatedly failed. Two of these gremlins truly gives me concern. Why must I be surrounded by them?

No, perhaps it is better to leave them be. The quiet one sometimes silences the loud one.

I wave a hand at them, shooing them from the room. The white-haired one clicks her tongue, muttering under her breath as she departs with the black-haired one in tow.

Good. Peace and quiet…

...Or not. More explosions. Good. The men are continuing as planned.

It is time for another surprise search of the homes once they return.

Stepping out onto my porch from my room, I inhale comfortably, stretching with my mug in hand. The gun is on the floor, placed there for being a useless and stupid thing. I hear the gunfire continue off in the distance, smiling gently while sipping from the cup.

Below me, I see the sheriff and deputy stomping and walking across the bumpy roads below, taking care to hop over the gaping holes, their gas masks firmly in place to avoid falling prey to the fumes from below. Their destination… yup, the pub. Just like always, she'll be in there with sixteen empty bottles and the deputy will have a tangerine in her hand like always.

And over to my left, I hear the rumbling of an engine that sounds way too futuristic to make any plausible sense in the town as it approaches, probably another group of weirdos from that organization. I raise a hand and whistle, guns appearing from multiple windows.

Wait for it… Wait for it… Wait for iiit…

I raise a thumb in the air, a storm of bullets pelting the humvee as it blows up from one of the mines I'd had the militia place in the center of the road a good while ago. The personnel are shredded by the bullets as they fly out of the destroyed vehicle's windows, their armor pierced after enough rounds hit the same spots repeatedly or so fairly close to one another, eventually piercing the absurd metal. Their bodies hit the ground, melting away and dissolving - which is actually a little gross after watching it in detail - for some unknown reason. Another group of newcomers, shot dead and cleansed from the town before they can cause us any problems. It doesn't matter, those guys will come back with new names again in another few hours anyway.

Nodding to the militiamen, they bow before disappearing back into the housing, saluting. They await for the next moment some odd people appear, to serve the town in the most honorable, respectable way. Being the mayor really has its perks when it comes to these brief reprieves from all of the shouting and arguments.

Another glorious day in Welze. Goddess bless.

...

Yeah. That settles it. We need an Apache Longbow before anything else.

Brought to you by the glorious men of the Z-discord. May the fours' blessings be upon you, and may you be safe from those bandits, citizen.