Tales of a Squeaky Altar-Boy
Written by Sikoro, with aid of temporary muse, Zack.
Guilty Gear © Ishiwatari Daisuke/Sammy Studios
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Part One: Squeak Squeak'em, Squeak Squeak'em
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It was a fine day in the very month of May when Ky Kiske, a young and pious enforcer of cosmic justice, sauntered down with an oh-so casual gait along a fine paved street in the city of love -- ah, Paris. It was slightly humid, but it was obvious this didn't ruin the good man's wonderful mood because he continued his casual walk, smiling brightly, a bag of baked goods hugging his chest; the fuuraiken was sheathed at his waist and in his free hand, he had a small, delicate box of antique dining wear - amongst these, tea cups of a variety of sorts.
But what Officer Kiske failed to notice was the ominous cloud cascading over his shadow, over his very presence, a darkness that could only promise foul play and a very many wrong doing that would test his good will. He whistled a high-pitched tune and paused, peering behind him, a chill crawling up the arch of his spine. It... was cold...
"Mm, I fear it's going to rain -- I must get home soon before it's too late!" Ky turned his focus forward and nodded to this reassuringly, continuing along his way, but with a slightly faster step.
The shadow sped after the young man, closing the distance between he and it and it released a high pitched laugh -- so high that Ky, in turn, released a squeak of rival pitch; the creature seized him by the throat and gently, gently, pulled into a closed alleyway. The silhouette of a rectangular object reflected upon the pavement, as with Ky's cowering form, and with a banshee's cry -- "OH, HOLY FATHER, FORGIVE ME!" -- it happened.
It happened, oh yes it did.
The ominous gray that plagued the sky took leave with the shadow and Ky released a heavy sigh, inching out of the alleyway with slow uneasiness. For some particular reason, an odd noise eeped with every move he made.
Squeak, squeak.
He blinked and peered around, bending over to pick his belongings up. An array of squeaks occurred and he coughed, running home as fast as he could, as graceful as he could, to see if his rival, his partner, could help him in any way possible, for Sol Badguy, the devil's advocate, the uncouth barbarian, must've surely had some way to help poor Ky's sudden squeaking inhibitions!
"'Ey, boy, you're out of lights." Sol mumbled incoherently, as the officer unlocked the entrance to his apartment and entered. A brow arched and the brute turned his focus to the youth, blinking. "...And you're squeakin'."
"I-I am," Ky nodded, affirming the fact he was squeaking in an odd manner; setting down the paper bag and box, he adjusted his coat and blinked to the man looming over him, mismatched fiery eyes staring at him in scrutiny.
"Why does your ass squeak, boy?" A brash tone erupted with the question and Ky blinked.
"Ahn, well..." He clapped his hands together and twiddled his thumbs, looking down with a redness touching his cheeks. It was true, the origination of the squeaks had come from his buttocks, but still...!
"...Don't make me go in there." Sol growled, stepping toward Ky, who in turn stepped back, humming.
"W-Well..."
"...The fuck?" Seizing the Officer by the shoulder, the firestarter jerked him and peered at his backside, eyebrows raising behind the bulky head protector.
"Ah, ha... Well, it's quite an amusing story really, Sol." Ky turned away from Sol, pacing toward the small staircase that hovered near the doorway. Stepping up onto the last step, he blinked and watched the demonic human, lips pursed.
"Long story short?" Sol stood poised, a few meters from Ky, from Ky's rear, and from the stairs.
A flamboyant hand gesture ensued and Ky gulped, laughing while he proclaimed what had happened to him on the way home from the grocery shops in downtown Paris. All the while, his face seemed to liven up with an embarrassed, deep flush of red.
"I was mauled by a girl and had a squeak toy inserted somewhere it shouldn't have been!" He abruptly coughed, turning his head away. Sol released a feral hiss and stomped forward, preparing a fist.
"Bend over, boy!"
Ky shrieked in horror, shaking his head.
"B-But, Sol...!" How was he going to get out of this...? He didn't want... want Sol that close yet...! "I... sort-of enjoy the squeaking..."
"...Fine, boy, have it your way." He waved a hand dismissively and paced back into the living room, seizing the back of baked goods from the table they were set upon.
On cue with Sol's leave, Ky slipped up his stairs and ran into his sanctum, his bedroom! Slamming the door closed behind him, he walked to the mantle and turned the picture of Jesus over, making a cross upon his heart. A prayer was whispered to the boy's Messiah and he hunched down on his knees, fiddling with his trousers. A voice howled from the outside and without further notice, the window to Kiske's chamber shattered and in flew Chipp, wrist blade raised, body poised to strike.
"Ky Kiske! You must be killed for the sake of order! And a hefty-priced bounty!"
Chipp stared at the officer and staggered back. Why... were his pants half-removed...?
Ky, in turn, abruptly stood straight up and screamed, pulling his breeches up all the while.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"
"BOUNTY!"
"HOLY FATHER, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKENED ME?"
Ky bolted from the room in haste, scampering down the stairs and through the door, blue eyes wide. What was going on today...? Why... why had he been assaulted so brutally and why did Sol want him to bend over and why, why, WHY did Chipp come in through his window, prepared to murder his very existence? What sort of blasphemy had he committed himself to deserve such punishment?
Releasing a whimper, Ky slowed his pace and paused, heaving, not realizing he had squeaked every second he ran -- from the moment he jolted from his bedroom to the very street he stood upon... ten blocks away.
"Huff, huff... O' Lord, what is going ON today to make me deserve this? Haven't I been a good soldier?"
"Ky! Ky! Wait up!" A young woman hollered after him, running to where he stood. The enforcer craned his head slowly and looked back, blinking, as he forced a smile and lifted himself into an erect position. He squeaked.
"Miss Jam! Hello!" Ky laughed, waving.
"Ky! Hello!" Jam paused a meter from him, hands resting firmly upon her hips. She tilted her head to the side and cooed, watching Ky for a moment until another sound -- a squeak? -- sounded off. "Ne, Ky, why are you squeaking...?"
Oh no, she... heard me squeak!
"W-Well!" Ky beamed with bright audacity, trying to cover up the fact his rear end was squeaking rather than he. "Because I, ahh, enjoy squeaking! See? Squeak, squeak!" Ky eeped and he cooed and he squeaked as adorably as a child would. Jam tilted her head close to his and rubbed her chin inquisitively.
"Is that soo?"
"Yes. It's quite particularly so." Ky nodded, looking down for a brief second.
"Hmm," the young chef stepped around him in a circle with a casual walk, pausing as she studied young Kiske. "Hmmm!"
"W-What, Miss Jam?" Ky asked, looking back to her.
"...Ne, nothing." She huffed with a giggle, grabbing Ky's ass in one swift grab.
Squeak.
Squeak.
"...M-Miss Jam!" Ky shrieked, flailing his arms before turning on heel to face his attacker! That... wolfish woman!
"You have a squeak toy up your bum, don't you, Ky?" Humor bled from her voice, her eyes lit with childish intent.
"N-No!"
"That was a very... hollow squeak..." She peered off, recalling a distance past. "I remember I used to have a pet dog named Kudo and we gave him a squeak toy that sounded just like that!"
"Erh," he turned his head away, redder than a bucket of cherries.
Jam leaned in, whispering:
"Did Mr. Sol shove it up there, Ky?"
If Ky wasn't red enough, he sure as hell was after that comment. He shook his head abruptly.
"...M-MISS JAM! T-THAT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! I'M SO SORRY, BUT I MUST... RUN NOW!" And run he did, as fast as a cheetah, through the streets of Paris -- all the while, squeaking.
After several hours of relentless fleeing from the city limits of Paris, Ky began to question whether or not he should've let Sol in and remove the toy in a more proper fashion earlier -- surely it would've saved him the embarrassment that he was feeling in waves and flashes now, right? Right. Ky heaved violently and slowly turned back to his city, staring up at it with begging eyes.
"Please, oh please, let everyone forget this day had ever occurred, Holy Father. Please, Paris, forget this intolerable squeaking that has befallen me..."
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TO BE CONTINUED
(as soon as the muse returns from his coffee break...!)