Act 3: Redemption.
Part 2: Whirling minds
That little voice saying there's still hope...It's lying. We're all corrupted copies of whatever we were.
Deep and quiet night. Ugh, define 'quiet'. My head is buzzing after all those 'interrogations', my eyes hurt. Insomnia holds me hostage or perhaps I'm simply too scared to close my eyes. What if I wake up in a horrible place again? I don't want to relive my past...even if it's just a dream. At least I have borrowed booze, CQ-80 and proper music for relaxation. 'Curse' delivered by 'Magic Sword'. More proof that local music is pathetic in comparison to our product.
I sit on the balcony in my octo form and stare at the stars, listening to the music to relax; to let alcohol and noises blind me to ignore my memories, worries and troubles. I lay down and let the flow take me to the place I can call home. But each time I close my eyes I see unwanted flashbacks, and feel myself getting sucked back into the sea of memories, hitting in tide waves like water. I don't want to live in the past… M͡e͏mor̨i̛e̷s̸ ̴ ar al͝l ҉we͡ ̷h͡a҉v̀e ̢lef͢t͟, Ric̢k͟.͘…I'm sick of that. Y͏òu'r̛e ͢n̨o͝t ͝th͏e on҉ly ̸o̡nè ͢who͘ go̵t ͟sìc͡k o͜f ͏i͢t. J̧u͢st̨ ̧ŗelax҉ an҉d wa̶tc͞h͠.With a treacherous yawn I give myself up to the exhausting lust for a nap and close my eyes.
*Flashback*
"You're in orphanage which means I don't care where you came from whether your parents were too pussy to live for whatever cod knows reason or came with decided that you're too ugly and stupid to be kept in house! Here you ALL equally worthless! I'll turn you into a weapon. You'll be ministers of death, praying to stare in your life's eyes and spit on them. But until then you're the lowest form of life on turf! You're not even octo-fucking-beins! And you'll get yourself new parents as a nice bonus."
Ugh. I was just a lonely kid back there, but now I wonder: who came up with the idea to shove 5-7 years old orphans in military camp with a drill sergeant yelling at you 24/7 and expanding your vocabulary with insults on an alarming rate?
"What is your name, private?" He approached me and asked that question. I stood solid and replied with no hesitation or shitting myself like a new kid did.
"Its U35, sir"
Some kids giggled, others just looked in silence. Easy to guess who's gonna date toilets on cleaning duty, newbies.
"HOLY FRESHNESS! That name is a monument to pathetic bottom feeders like you! Your mommy must be a fucking genius, huh! Is your mother a genius?"
"Sir no sir..."
"Squidshit, I can't hear your mumbling! Stop sucking her tits and give me an answer!"
"Sir no sir!"
"Good. Do you know who had enough balls to adopt you, private?"
"Sir, I dunno sir!"
His eyes dropped down with a smile as he was looking at the list. Probably coming up with new ways to insult a little innocent kid I was. In a moment his face expression changed. He looked at me with some bits of pity and an absence of that high ear bleeding screaming he used to talk with everyone.
"...Life sure likes you a lot, U35. You're adopted by-"
*Reality*
Sounds of open door provoke me to open one eye and - oh, its Helena. She silently joined me, crossed her arms and put them on the windowsill near me. A sad look on her face, tired eyes, ears dropped down and tentacles emit a faint luminescent glow...Apparently she doesn't give a damn about showing up with only underwear, or maybe she's too drunk to care. She seems to ignore me, looking at the streets and thinking about something. I lower the music's volume.
"Can't sleep too?"
She slightly nodded but then negatively shakes her head as if she denied mute reply. Then she say with quiet tone, merely pretending to sound usual:
"No, just..." She briefly looked at me with uncertainty, unwilling to finish her sentence. Trying to lie and look cool? It's so you, Lena.
"W͝ha͟t'̵s ͝on̴ ͟y҉our min͏d͢,̨ ki҉lleŗ?͠"
She slightly turned her head to me, but one of her long tentacles blocks the view.
"Just trying to wrap my head around...all this."
She sounds so defeated with that small admarison. Makes me feel easier, cause now I know for sure - she steps on my rake.
"Don't think about it. Toss it out of your head and stay fresh." I sigh and nodded a couple of times.
She turned her head to me, misunderstood and astounded by my carelessness. My lips shape and twitch into the faint smile. I speak slowly.
"I'm not a hero like you, nor am I a cliche bad guy with plans to destroy the world. I'm a nobody in particular. Just another nameless victim, finally accepting its fate as a useless failure."
*Flashback*
Twenty of us stand in line, all geared up and observing chaos on the shore. Intel was right, it was a fucking war zone. Salmons and their beloved suicide horde tactic. Sigh. We waited till a single octo form super jumped to our position. Upon landing a figure of a local commander quickly emerged and shook off ink from his beret and tentacles. At the time I felt relief seeing a familiar drill sergeant. Loud bastard got his promotion after all. Would've shook his hand, but this wasn't the time for respect. He quickly glared at us, groaning with frustration and spat on the earth. Then he smirked and proceeded to 'motivate' us, annoyingly walking in line.
"Fish! This is the facts as I understand them! Salmons declared their shit for giggles 'Great Journey' and advancing to out positions! I already lost two squads and a minefield and those deep sea winkers keep on coming. So! What do you think about those green Iroquois fanatics from sea and their 'Great Journey'?!"
All of us yelled in reply: "SQUIDSHIT, SIR!"
A recruit (girl obviously) super jump to the commander and desperately yelled:
"Sir, they overwhelm us! We need to retreat, please!"
He looked at her as if she wasn't even there.
"Who said that?"
"S-sir?!"
"WHO DA FUCK SAID THAT?!" He proceeded to furiously walk from left to right, staring everyone in the eyes as if he want to rape your soul and cook it for dinner. We were silent and unaffected by his 'provocation'. No laugh or any kind of reaction. That's his way of teaching discipline, get used to it
"WHO'S IS THIS SLIMY LITTLE INKLING SHIT TWINKLE TOE COCKSUCKER DOWN HERE, THAT JUST SIGNED HER OWN DEATH WARRANT?!"
And then he turned to that poor, scared girl and grabbed her by scruff of the uniform. I can only imagine what she felt.
"Nobody, huh?! The very fucking Octavio said it! Now WHAT DO YOU WANT, PRIVATE PUSSY FART?! "
Influenced by fear or simmply to terrified she turned to her octo form and jumped back in battle, crying. And we remain silent. Training and literal chaos in the background leaves you no place for acting like an inmature deepshit.
"..alright. LISTEN UP you elite sea slug piles of gay shit! All of you are savage, brainwashed maniacs worthy to be a male and splat the guts out of everyone, who disagree. But THEY are fucking endless semi sentient slugs with fry pans, heavy supports and cod knows what else! For them you're just a fresh dinner with guns and nuts. They think war can help with their overpopulation and I'm glad to help them with that!"
*Back into the reality*
"You better be off with Erin." Nearly usual cold tone, but I hear struggle in her voice. I raise my eyebrow and blink in confusion.
"Who gave you that idea?" I may sound a bit mocking, cause I have that cliche feeling like she's about to sell herself short.
She sighed, and her ears lower themselves. "She's kind, cute; she really cares about you. you two have fun together."
"And because of that you automatically decided 'fuck that, I'm gonna die single' ye?" Mocking her makes me feel a bit better. And she's not enjoying it.
"No." Quick and cold reply with an irritably dangling ear. "I just want her to be happy" She added, but with a lower and more soft tone in her voice as she looked down on the streets and crossed her arms with fingers grabbing elbows as if she tries to restrain herself, avoiding eye contact. Good intentions, but as always 'something goes wrong'. Nah, that's just a made up excuse.
"If that's the case, then you're exact opposite of making her happy. Test failed."
She turns to me, judging me with her green eyes and woozy face still able to display disgust. She says nothing but I can barely hear her muffed hissing. Don't take it on me, just accept it girl - you've failed.
Another moment of tense silence. She just finished 'my' bottle of depression's best friend with a faint smile popping on the edge of her lips….for a brief moment. She's drunk, pissed off, upset and kept getting drunker. Sigh, why are you like this?
"Do you love her?" I raise my eyebrow and ear, staring at her and processing the question. And she stares back. Do I love 'her'? Erin? Hell, I dunno...Should I? I shake my head - gosh it feels heavy with all booze inside me - and reply with:
"Look at me. I'm horrible relationship material. S͏hoŕt ̕a̸nsw͝e̵r -̴ ̕no̸.̶ S͠h̶e̵ ne͜e̵d̢ s̶o̕mȩo̡ne ̢wi͟thóu̢t ̛a҉ll ͠t̀h̀is̷ m̸e̸n̛t͜al ͝bul͜lshit͢."
At least we're honest. She narrowed her eyes and bend towards me, hissing with repulsion and judgment in her face, upcoming blame and the way she points at me
"So you use her to get your dick wet?" I roll my eyes with a grumble.
"Ugh. It's called friendship with benefits. You should try it, part of inkling's culture. And that's ME saying both as octoling and A ̴MAN̛. Oh, by the way - you're to talk about using. W͞ho ̛k̵eṕt ͏me̷ ar͡o͞u̧n͝d́ fo̷r̵ mońt͏h̶s̶ j̵us̢t͘ to ͏s̴ati͜sfy͠ ͠yo̶u̧r ne͘èd̛ ̧ţo͟ ̶ex҉p̵l̢i̴c͘it yoưr̛ ͞p̕ain on͡ ͠me wit̀h͡ fis͠ts, ͞hm?̛"
No reply. Only drunk staring with her hand slowly clenching.
"Don't tell me you're satisfied being nearly alone and pushing others away."
Her face froze in cold experion with a frisky and self confident fast reply..
"I am." Too fast to be true. I negatively shake my head and point at her with a tentacle, judging her.
"You're lying.."
"..."
"You want this, don't you? To be loved and love back; have someone to care about and use a crying jacket."
"You don't know me...human."
She barks quietly and slowly, each word echoes with cold frustration, struggle and alienation. Then she backed of me.
"Then let me guess: You're an introvert, drinking booze and beating octolings. An alcoholic and a war veteran, trying to act like the most badass bitch in the neighborhood. Yet you resort to violence and pushing everyone away, using misunderstood image of Green Terror we 'gave' you. Pull up my mask and hide the fear on my face."
No reply. She groans and grins apathetically, turns her back on me. I'm unable to see her face, but her lowered shoulders and ears says enough. Maybe this is alcohol doing its dirty job or...Well, she took it to heart like they say. Rrgh, it doesn't feel right, to dig up someone's wounds like that.
"Just… Leave me alone. Please."
*Flashback*
In our work field 'business trip' is a blessing. No fish would like to spend months in an isolated bunker guarding Zapfish and Great Octo Weapon. You'll go insane out of boredom. Literally. Sure, you got a garrison of females to command, brainwash and abuse on a standard basis or as often as you and other officers want. But we're no longer fourteen year olds virgins with dicks instead of brains. We have our orders, restricted communication and it feels like we're in the war. Many of us just want to go home and forget about those high tech walls with images of the surface, day and night simulation...
And yet I kept asking myself day and night: why - *sounds of bashing* - the fUck - *it roars in a desperation and counter attacks* - did I - final blow and their head pops like a sea snail's shell - ACCEPTED that promotion?! Aaargh! Fucking jellyfish, brains all over the floor and it smells so gross, I can still remember that disgusting stench. That was a mess.
Killing that jellyfish was easy. No idea why high command wanted it dead though. Also that big graffiti raised some immediate questions. A drawing of strange inkling like creature on the wall in their room with crazy sentences about some kind of 'harness', 'cycle' and how 'melody will guide you'. And why were that fish were praying to it? Whatever that was, I didn't bother to find out.
I ran out of the room and was immediately attacked by some deepshit. I grabbed his arm and dodged behind him, pushing the bastard's head into the doorway to crush his skull with the door. Old but reliable tactic. Two strong slams and he's dead. But there was no time to relax as inklings found me. One with a knife, another with a bat and they were going to kill me for pretty a obvious reason - no one likes octolings in the Plaza.
I had to dash aside and dodge the first swing. Left hook to the liver, right apricot straight in the jaw, and barely managed to block a knife attack of his partner with my arm...literally. I roared in pain and punched the oppressor right in the neck. He choked and fell on the ground, incapacitated for a moment. Moaning from the pain I checked the arm with a knife sticking in it. Maybe it was for the better - adrenalin kicked in and the world narrowed down with pale red mist in the corners on my perception. Bat wielding target aggressively spelled shit in my address and recovered, preparing to make a dent in my head, but I foot kicked his knee with all my strength, catching a bat with both hands and ripped it off his possession. As he hit the floor I killed him and his friend with a bat. A quick and painful death.
I proceeded to exit this shithole as fast as possible but sounds of carnage attracted more attention. Some drunk waste with hookers peaked in, too busy to notice the world around them. I switched to octo form and super jumped to the lamp on the fly; it began to swing by inertia and I use it to propel myself forward, closer to the door. As they were taking their sweet little time to react I proceeded to demonstrate why octarian race is superior. Headshot one, headshot two and your lower jaw no longer belongs to you, hahaha!
Innocents, but it had to be done. I rushed for exit, but unfortunately bumped in another surprise..
*Reality*
I negatively shake my head with a sigh, grab my CQ-80 and step into the apartment with one eye still looking at her.
"As a white man peasant I should fall on my knees and bow before some strong and independent woman like you, take blame for your failures. Mocking social tumors aside, here's a real word of wisdom: It's okay to cry and admit your weakness. If you're perfect, then what the fuck are you, a machine?"
W͢h͞i̵t҉e ͜m͝án̛ ͢peasan͝t?̶ ͝F̀or͜ ̡'̡ée̶l͜? T̨h́i҉s͜ ͠i͏s ̡s̶o͟un͠d̵s m̶o҉re͟ ̴li̢k͞e ̴i͝n͞şu͘lt͘ rat̸h͟er̕ ̷t͞h̡an͏ a̸ p͢un͢!
"...leave." I barely heard what she just mumbled, quietly sobbing in the corner and looking down. To see your so called nemesis, a merciless exterminator of your race...crying in loneliness. I feel pity, an̢d̨ I͏ fe͠el ̕dis͟appo͜i̵n͝t͟ment.͘ ̡L̨et̀s͏ ̶go̵ ţo ͞s͘le͝e͜p̷, ͠t͘her̕e̕ ͠i̴s nothing mo͞r͞e͞ to ̨say̧.
*Another flashback*
Imagine the worst possible adversary one can face. I was lucky enough to face one - a sharkling with red jersey and green number 88 appeared. Hyperactive and aggressive mountain of muscles with tons of physical strength. He's taller than me, stronger than me. Any combat expert would say that soldier's status in that kind of situation is fucked.
"Howdy-do-de. What's an eight limbed pretty boy doing here? " He said slowly, mocking me with every single word and closed the door behind himself, breaking the handle in process. I took two steps back and focused, clutching the bat tighter. We stared at each other. I didn't show any signs of panic or stress, but to be honest, I was on edge. On the other hand he was relaxed and confident for obvious reasons. That unfresh bottom feeder could've ripped me in half without breaking a sweat.
"Step aside, big guy. That's none of your business"
I remember that wide, maniac smile and hunger in his eyes...eegh. And the way he said:
"Sorry, can't do. Its a corporate decision. I wonder how your tentacles taste."
Gross. It was something between hungry pedofile and calibal in love. Then he licked his lips...uuuugh, why hadn't Tartar didn't erased that from my mind?!
I had no other choice but to kill him, so burst forward and jumped. Aim, scream like crazy connect the bat with his forehead. I smashed it good, with the satisfying sound of breaking bones filled my ears. Or so I thought. It merely stunned him. He laughed louder, closing his eyes and holding his belly.
"Ho-ho-ho! OOH-ho-ho! Are you trying to kill me? Hah, watch it, boy" No blood, no pain; nothing. My bat cracked from that hit and that shook me. I slowly walked backwards till I hit the wall. In return he took a step forward to keep us both at the same distance. I was trapped and I laughed, seemingly in desperation and my own stupidity, lowering my weapon in a moment of confusing and feeling a bit lost.
But then he went into the fight stance. I took another swing but he grabbed the bat with one hand and punched my face with another. I remember how everything turned gray for a moment as I felt on the floor and felt a lot of pain, shook and how wrong my jaw felt. He displaced it, nearly broke it! Then he grabbed my leg and tossed me into the other wall like a plush toy. And then he tossed me into the ceiling and literally broke the bat in half by head bashing it against his nose. He was laughing as he pulled me up, still holding my leg. I was hanging upside down, dizzying and losing control with adrenaline keeping my guts together like glue.
He took his sweet ass time, examining his new found soon to be dinner, but I had one last chance to break free. A knife in my arm. Pull it out and deal with internal bleeding or be ripped to pieces and eaten. I chose death in struggle - grabbed the grib and pulled the knife out. Then...uh...I hardly remember what happened. Too much adrenaline and acting on auto pilot. Or maybe I asked to brainwash that part out of my head.
Here we go. I wonder what you think about this whole 'flashback' narration idea. Any thoughts about Helena and Rick? What about Asshole's past and octarians in general? Leave your feedback and comments...if you can
