Act 3: Redemption
Part 5: Strings Of Tension
The day the world died
They disappeared
Past concrete cages
Their voices speak
The wheels of conflict
Still creak and guide
After the world died
Nothing was learned
And the future's a fog stretching endlessly
All our hopes have long stumbled in the dark
And the shadows of home is but a memory
They still haunt us but they can't pull us back
The second day of Splatooween, high noon and a chance to freely roam around the city without a female escort. I see some sealings in costumes here and there, much fewer inklings than usual. Traffic lights block my path to the other side of the street, and I unwillingly eavesdrop on the by-passers conversation:
"- ...Nah, bro. Fucking cod knows who might be under all those layers of grim and clothes! And I really don't want to pin some hot looking catgirl in the corner and then grope someone's balls under the tail.
- Well, if our nixie cat talked, he'd said that lack of balls does not always indicate one's gender ^_^"
I cover my mouth to muffle a giggle and walk past that friendly acting sharkling/urchin pair. Cossing the road, I make my way straight in the Inkopolis Square. No intention to stay there, but I might pay a visit to our gunrunner rayling or grab a refreshing cocktail. Maybe only the cocktail, considering the amount of trash and jellyfishes doing the cleanup plus labor ground dismantling performance stage. We've missed the night party and it makes me sad - I haven't even had a proper holiday for decades! Even this one got eradicated by personal drama with all my chances to have some positive venting out with a mocking slap of a door on their way out.
Almost all shops are closed due to the short working hours during the holidays. At least Crust Bucket is up and running which means the time has come. I come to the food truck, make an order and take a seat at one of the circle tables with chairs and an umbrella for customers to enjoy their lunch. The moment I come near, someone seems to recognize me and I hear even gossips catching occasional looks in my direction which makes me feel uncomfortable. I'm not used to such attention...
"Won't you mind if we share a table?" Argh, speaking of the devil. Some girlish voice beamed behind me. I close my eyes for a moment to look calm and reply with a nod, stretching my hand forward in a welcoming manner. Two stranger girls joined me, both inklings and one of them dressed up like a Count Dracula. Wr͠on̛g̛.͝ ̵I͠t's ͠Coc͘k ̡Bl͞o̸ck͟u̡la. Pheh, good one. Right...uh. I bet they are around Erin's age; looks cheerful. Let's keep it that way, while I wait for my order.
"How are your days going, girls?"
"Super fresh! The Splatfest opening party was a blast! Oh-oh-oh, you're that madfish octo with a bow! I played against you a couple of times and saw your games." The blo̵cul͠a squid widely smiled, creeping me out from inside. ...Uh, I can't remember splatting any of those two before. Her friend talks:
"I thought that the bow was just a different kind of bamboozle joke. I didn't believed that stupid fish-" She smirked
"Hey!" 'I gave an offended' friend giggle and lightly struck her friend with an elbow.
"-Well, she said she was wrecked by a bow-wielding octo. Is there some kind of secret in using such a vile weapon?"
Her last words boiled with an unhealthy tone shift on the word 'vile' and interest in the subject. She slightly stood up from her chair and bent towards me across the table intentionally or not revealing her black bra under the hanging shirt with a couple of unbuttoned buttons on the top. I'll pretend I'm that stupid and fall for it by staring at her breasts, but first I have a question:
"Why didn't you ask me earlier then?" I raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.
"We would if we had a chance" Her vampire friend drags her back into the chair. I repeatedly nod, muttering:
"...Make sense." I take a pause and shrug and then reply casually.
"The secret is quite simple - you just use it wrong."
"...oooh?"
Sigh. I̕nk҉l͢in̴gş.̛..S̀t͡upid aś ̷al̀ways. ͢E̢n͘teŗt͘a̛i̵n̢m̴en͏t́ a̡n̡d̸ o͜b̢s͞e̴s̡sion̴ wi͡t͏h̴ f͜as̕hi͘o͟n ͘- that's al͢l ͢t̡hey ̴d͜ǫ. We both know it's not true and you distract me from conversation. O͞h͝ ̀y̴ȩs̷, ̨h͟a̴v͜i̕n͠ģ ̀a҉ ̡c͠asu̧al ch͞a͜t̷ w͢it͟h̀ ͟tw̸o ̶i͘nk̨l̛i̴ngs ̷t́hat̷ o̴b̵vi͏o͘u͘s̴ly ͞desire̡ ͢à bo͠y͜ f̷o҉r̵ sp̵i͞n̵ ͟f͝or̕ ͠á fai͢r r̸eáśon..̀.͜Ok͝a̷y̧,̀ m͏ayb̕e ou̷r uni̕so͟n̕ ҉o̡f͞ ͟cơmbat ̵skìlls ͡and bo̕w̷ ́p̡roficien̨c͞y̛ ̵ha̢ve t̵o̧ d͝o͏ s͏o̕me҉t͡hi̢ng ͢wi̧t̸h͏ ̧t̵h͜at̡.̨ ̶W̢e҉ are҉ g͜ętti҉n͝g̶ r̵e̛ćógnised am͢ong T̵urf̛ ̸W̵a͜r͏ c̨o̡mmuņit͟y̡ ́a̶f͏t́er ͢al͢l͏..͝.̧ You done? I don't want to sound like dick a.k.a you, but - Fi͠ne ҉-̴ ͜f̸in͝e͢...̷j͢eez̵! ͏Pȩrs̶òn҉al ̵s͞pac͝e, ̵I̷ ̴get ̨i̵t͝.
Be me and appreciate the casual talk with locals. A͘n͢d̛ s̶ḩa̸ŕe͞ y̶ou͝ŕ ͝d͢i̕s̵ori҉enti̛ng ̢vi̵s̶iơns w͏h͏il̶e ͟y̛ou̵'̛re ͘kn̵e͝e ͞d̷e̸e҉p ҉ìn ̸tripp͘i͘ng ̨balls̶ o̡n ͢a r̡a͏nd͞o͝m͡ ͠ta͞n̡tr̨u̧m ̷o͡f̢ ͢in̕s͠ąn̡ity͡?̸ ͡Ah͢, bitch,͘ I'̛m͡ to̵u͘c̶he͘d! B͝ut ͡I͟'ll gentl̛e ͘r͠épl͢y i̷s̢ '̢fu̵ck̨ ̨no'...Litteral Asshole...U͡n̸lik̶e ̴c̕er̨taņ ̡other͏s͡ I don't͟ ̷w͜h̵ine t͜o ot̸ḩér̷s͟ ͝w̨h͞en͡ I'm b͟u͢rsting̕ ̧i͢n ͏su̷d͏d̸e͢n ́p͡hy̴ćòp̴a͏t̵hic ̕lu̧st̢ ̡t͟o͝ ͏k͡ílļ, ̵b͠r̡ưt́alis͢e̢ ̛and̡ rape͟ b́ec̸au̷s̡e̷ ̨of ̨my en͞tir̢e l̵if̢e̵ s̴p̀end̀ i̛n ̡u̴n͘heál̷t̶h̸y͢ en̶v̛i̷ron͏me̛nt with ȩx̛tens͡i͡v̕e̛ b̢r̢a̸inw̢ashin͘g̶, ͘r̸ep̴ea̷te͟d͢ r̛a̧p̕e and̨ k͘i̷l̸l͜i̛ng…͠! No͏w͘ adm̢it̢ it̛. What? That you enjoy the talk with those two too, even two both of us barely follow the conversation. Uuuu͝u͝úùgh͝….̛nev͜er ̶m͢i̧n̶d͢.͏..J̡us͠t fi҉nis̢ḩ ̴th͠e ̢d̛ri̧ńk ̡an͢d͜ ͜g̴i̷v͞e̵ ̕th̨em ̸some ẁhin̨e ͢h̷o̡ne̢ý o̸f ͟y̕ours̛. No.
Nǫ~̨?!̵ Th-̨w͢h-...̴W̵hy̨ n̕o͠t̨?!́ It'd be wrong to use others for things like that. S̕pl͠at͘ y͞our ̨m̶or̕ál͠,͝ ͢o̴h ̴ri͝g̷h̨t̢eo͏u̵s͢ o͏ne.҉ It͞'͢s ̧j̵ust̛ ̨ą ̵fu҉cḱing̨ ̶thr͝éesǫme w͟ith ͜tw̢o ra̸nd͡o̶m,͏ ͜g̨i̸r͜ls ̡yo̵u'v̴e ͡f̡ound ̶o̸n͢ ̷t́he̷ stre͡a͢t͞ a̵n͜d no̷t͏ ͠Pląz͢a. Ju̴şt́ a͞cc̷ep̡t it ̛a̷nd̶ for̢get͢ yo̧ur ͏old́ ͢hum͘a͏n͞ ͟id͜e͡a͘ls.͜ N̶o ̧matt̡er ҉the ̸s͠i͟mi͟larit́ie̸s ̢this̀ ̀i̕s̵ n͘o͢t̶ y̕óur̨ ̸w̸orļd ̷anym͟o̕ré.̀ Perhaps..
"I just remember something."
"Oh, what is it?" The girls lit up with excitement.
"Ever heard of Dadf1sh, or Dedf1sh? Ugh cod, I don't remember how they're called."
"Uh, duh. [One of them replied with surprised tone and raised her finger] Its Dedf1sh and she's da best!"
"She?" [Her friend objected] Girl please, it's obviously a boy. Probably hot and young~"
"Again with this? [She rolled her eyes with frustrated groans] Quit your wet fantasies, there's no way in shell they're a male!"
"Why not! H-he's just shy-!"
"Or she's ugly and an unfresh fat salmon, he-he!"
"...Or this is a human hiding their identity." And here I am stopping their escalating argument with a seemingly distant and emotionless response. Both girls stopped and turned their attention to me with a confused gaze.
"Wha-"
"H-hu-human? Pff, don't say nonsense, those primitive creatures have gone extinct lo-o-ong time ago. I've learned it from the exhibit in the Shellendorf Institute"
I slowly shook my head in response, looking in the eyes of the fish that just called me a primitive.
"Primitive? Really? Well, that's one way to insult us…" I mumble to myself.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm saying that humans would not be happy to hear 'that'..." I can't help but voice my displeasure with their view towards us, using fingers to show quote/unquote when putting extra focus on the last word. One of the girls casually points at me with a finger while holding a fork.
"You should visit that exhibit if you haven't done it already" My displeasure grows into a muffled frustration.
"There's nothing to look at. Old and rusted junk beyond repair, bones of a kid playing VR and common assumption that this is an adult doing some ritual. Makes me laugh in tears." Before my temper goes out of control, I should change the subject.
"Back to undead Daft Punk - slash - human theory. That could explain a lot: a suspicious selection of music, hiding identity and no public meetings outside concerts as far as I'm aware. Call me crazy, but that all seems too odd to me. A 'Dead' ' Fish' playing music of the dead civilization... I'd like to see them in person."
"Oh, that's impossible." One of the girls said, waving her hand to add weight to her words. Her friend added:
"Yeah, they never do an interview or have any contact with fans. Plus they often do concerts in Plaza and no offense, but you're an octoling…"
I lower my eyes and put my fingers between each other, thinking
"..back to social octo hating bullshit. Sigh, damn it. Well, that sure complicates things. A zone of danger and sudden death"
"Well, not so sudden and dangerous if you stay away from sharks and urchins"
She sounds so reassuring, but I wouldn't be so sure if I ́w͏e͞r҉e͠ h͢er. Sigh, I͘ ͟hate ͡to ̵a҉d͞mi̛t i͘t͠, but we gonna need girls help with t͠h͞at̡.
"I'd rather stay away from inklings. No offense, but some of your kind are so fucking salty."
"Phah! You haven't seen asshats from Rank X then!"
"And we can help you with Plaza, if you ask 'nicely'" suddenly one of them says with no normal tone, attracting my attention...I semi-close my eyes, diving into my thoughts.
"Are you reading my mind? [They giggle over it, but sigh with disappointment and continue with a bit more distant voice] What kind of dirty job are you expect me to do?"
"Um..[They gaze at each other with short confusion and shrug] Dirty job? Ohh, did you had some hard work back in your home?" Their confusion turned into two pairs of gazing eyes directing at me with curiosity, making me think harder and actually remember my assignment. I painfully exhale.
"Electrical engineer, maintenance division in sector A in Underground…[I take a short pause and rob my chin with a frontal tentacle, while looking in the sky. Cod, I really need to address my haircut] Not the wisest choice in h̴i͏s life, but- "
A double, almost synchronized gasp followed with confusion and even more curiosity dancing in their eyes and voice interrupting me with a loud beamed tone
"The Underground…?! W-wait, do you mean Plaza's club or your octarian bunkers?"
I shake my head and gesticulate my hand.
"Y͏-y̕e-̛y͝e̕a̕..̷.̀y͠ou͡ c̡an ca̴ll it a̸ b͜u͡n͝ker. We were working overclock every day, repairs, checks and testing. [I take a pause and faintly smile for a moment, looking back at the girls. Judging by their reaction that was kinda creepy.] That reminds of a fun little moment we had one day. Me and crew were doing our maintenance routine. Many of us had protective gear, some of us didn't. [I point at my face with a big thumb for a moment] With this face the gas mask never came off. Went perfectly, flawless….well, until one of us caught a mental break down and bit the cable he tore apart with nothing but his teeth. No one knew who did it. Our crew shouted out like their mama were ringing a dinner bell."
…̶҉҉͈̹͙̳̤̮̝͕…͠͏̭͕̩̝͔̱̦̝͠
He put palms on the table, confusing them with his cold and way too calm voice. Both girls still smiled and looked interested, but in reality it was all just a show to befriend him.
"Ever seen a man dying from high voltage? You can tell the ones who were lucky: one gentle handshake with an invisible hand of a thousand Kilowatts and they drop dead with their heartbeat resting in zero. We watched him for a full minute. No screams, no pain; just a monotone buzz and flickering lights-."
Initially they've taken it as a joke, but when they noticed his complete absence of response to them, describing some increasingly gross and unfresh bollocks with a cold monologue, just like their literature teacher. This octo was rapidly losing all his attractiveness and interest in their eyes. Both girls started to whisper with each other about what should they do, they even repeatedly clicked their fingers right in front of his eyes, pull one of his tentacles and bitch slap him, but he kept talking like a broken radio with no intention to shut up... revealing more and more gross moments of the horrible event he was reliving eternally with a disgusting description of details.
Out of options, with a mix of worry, disappointment and disgust they've left him be. They had bad luck finding a boy, but they weren't that desperate to stick around with such loco. Yes, male inklings were in deficit in general and some girls considered octolings as second grade. Remove gays, those who already have girls and the only ones left and ugly nerds and unfresh losers. Well, better luck next time!
…̶҉҉͈̹͙̳̤̮̝͕…͠͏̭͕̩̝͔̱̦̝͠
"-It stood still like a soldier, twitching with its eyes wide open, teeth clutching the cable with dead grip, face already going in flames and veins swelling from pressure. They look like animated puppets...Trapped by their biology and pretending to be still alive, begging for rescue... burning from the inside with blood boiling in veins till there's nothing but a charred skeleton with freshly burned meat that looks like coal, till you cut a slice….Oh, that smell of well done cooked meal is so tasty and wrong, makes you hungry and confused…Now I want steak. Big, fat, meat steak..."
I inhale and blink with satisfaction on my lips
"Damn, now I want a stake….uh, where's the girls?"
"T̵h҉ey'r̀e ̵g͜o͢n͝e"
"...ah. Eh, whatever.." I reply and shrug so casually, one might think that I don't care and to be frank, I really don't.
* Sometime later*
Walking alone is uh, unusual. It makes you look at things you've never noticed or ignored before. No one to keep your attention, guide you, and occupy you with chat. Free roam in a sea of inhospitable fish. All those different species from human-like to mind-shattering abominations, each unique and have it's preferred job in society...with only two of them being the closest representation of humans in terms of appearance. And they have ink - a mandatory thing for Turf War. And that makes you wonder: why i͠s̛ ͘it ̴th̢e͏ ́mo͠st̶ p͞o͠pul̢a͞r ̧sp̡ort͠?̧ Exactly! I bet many would want to live by playing the game, but they are forced to work for a living, because they've lost the life lottery. And that leads to anxiety and envy….
Sigh. This city is no different from 'International' or other cities of our time. The city is full of shining lights and opportunities. But when one settles in, after they take their time to taste the insides of local life, disappointment comes. Among the alien crowds and closed doors with faces judging you for their reasons one feels lonely, ordinary, helpless….useless. I don't like that feeling, it reminds me of my time as a test subject, rrgh. Same shit, now with a brand new sushi taste.
T̕h͠e̶ ͞w͝h̛o͏l̵e ̴sp͜ec̢i͝es ̀job̧ seg͞ŗe̕g̸at̨i̵o͘n ͏seem̀s ͘p͏o͏in̴tles̷s ҉t́o̧ ̸m͟e. ͜We, o̵c̡t̴arians can͏ ̀do͝ ͏ęve͡r͡y̧thing̸ w̷ith ͘e͝n͘o҉ug̶h t̕r̵aini͟ng͜. ͏E̷ngi͘n̵ȩer̕s̢,́ m̵ed͡ic̸s̸, sc͢ie̕nt͡is̕ts...She͢l̷l, ̵a̴t̕ leaşt҉ ͢in̵ tha͡t͢ ͏reg҉árd͏ ͘we̛'ŗe҉ ́one ͜step ahéa͢d o̧f ̕t͞he͡ re҉s͞t̶ ̕of͠ the w̛ór͠ld͢.̛ No wonder why. Flexible human-like body with extra limbs and regeneration. I bet it's more about your independence from other species. But here...I'm pretty sure that bullshit segregation has its own benefits and majority seems to be used to that kind of racism. It's everywhere: A crew of builders and engineers exclusively filled with jellyfishes; sea urchins on police patrol or whatever local law enforcement department's now called. Too many jobs have a species with unfair advantage over others. Not a good nor bad solution, all depends on the point of view. And I ended up on a bad side with no way to apply my knowledge on practice and be useful! Y̶ou ͟c͢an ̵be ̕usèf͘ul if ỳou͟ ̶sta̢rt payi̧ņg a͜t̡tent́ìo͟n͝ t͏o ͡y̷o͘ur͜ s̵u͜rr͡oundings̵. ̶W͢e͢'҉re̷ ̀pa͟s͡si̷n̢g ̛n͡e̡r Pl͘a͟za.
Ugh, thank you mister GPS, but I know where I'm going. Some narrow-minded idiots won't scare me. D́on'͢t͝ be ͠an͜ o͡v̶e̶r͝con͡fi͠d͞ent ͟g̢old̕f҉i͏s͟h̷ ͞͞Yòu'ré a ̕fu͘c҉k̸ing oc͞to͞l̀i̛ǹg ͏and ͏t̸h̶e̢y͝'̴ll ̶eat ͠uś al̷įv̵e̶!҉ ͢An̨d ͘that'͏s ͞M͝E̶ tell͡i̴ng҉ ͏y͡ơu, agh-! Some passerby bumped into me with force and walked by.
"Hey!" I call them with frustration, but there is no response. What an asshole….
"...what ink trash's doing here…?" I turn round trying to remain calm yet the moment my eyes see a pair of bunny ears growing from octarian head I back off with a surprised gasp. A dumb̀o҉p̸uś with a pa҉ír̨ of coc͞k ̢su͟ck̕i͢ng̡ i̴n͡kling̸ pu͘s͢sie͠s̨ looking to make some holes in us! Wh͢at͠ di̵d͝ ́I͠ tell͜ ya͝ abo͡ut̵ ҉NO͜T! Doing HERE?! Rrgh, stop thinking like me, it's distracting. I quickly inspect the male bunny - octoling in the center of this trio and raise my eyebrow.
"What do you want, an autograph; a hug?"
Whoever bypasses us decides to ignore the situation. Inkling on the left clenched her fists in sinister grin:
"You ventured into the wrong turf, octo trash."
How creative. I used to hear that insult from Lena on a daily basis, and being beaten. So far I'm not impressed by these punks. I reply casually, gesticulating with a hand
"Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't seen any 'no octolings' signs here."
"There will be when I'll personally shove one in your ass with neon sign specifically for you, fucking eight limbs twats." Said another aggressive-looking chick. My face spasms in a single twitch, eyes looking on the one, who said that...
"
….And replying with a dead cold tone, taking a slow step forward with murderous intent. I feel my fingers twitching. Both Inklings shivered for a moment, clearly didn't expect that, but their companion seems more confident. He stopped me by poking his finger straight in my chest with a disrespectful tone, irritating me.
"Your threads are pitiful at best. All of your octolings are egoistic and a damn disgrace… Looking at you makes me sick. Who do you think you are to come to this city and pretend you can be one of us?"
Boy, your hentai looks amazing and I can tolerate your bullshit, but pocking my chest with a finger?!You're playing with a madman here! Ok. Ok̶! Ok-ok-ok.. Just act calm and don't think about it. It's nothing, he-he-he. It's just a finger poke, nothing else. I'm overthinking things. He-he, yes overthinking for sure. Oh cod, just hold it together, h͟e͘'̸s̢ NOT….H-he's not…
"...that's a good question..."
"Eh?"
"No really. Who am I? Or rather 'what'. Am. I? I'm in a good mood today, so I'll answer it for you: I'm a corrupted copy of whoever I was... [I shrugged with a faint smile]. Quite poetic isn't it. Pretending that I'm one of you?You're not my kind of person…[And finish it with a cold face expression] Funny."
Pure honestly and calm look can be shocking. That octo remove his dirty finger away - uughs, gross.
"Yo, this one is crazy…" inkling whispered with concerned body language to their octo boss, I presume. Hm...
"You don't say!" I interrupt their little word exchange by dropping the act with a poker face and pointing at the octo with my tentacle.
"By the way. If you hate octolings so much, why stick with an octoling? "
Both inklings gasped and grinned their fangs with anxiety - something I didn't anticipate. Octo in the middle froze with one eye wide open, staring at me with his bunny ears twitching faintly, like a sinister beacon attracting my attention.
"I think you're just two girls desperate for a boy and ready to follow this octo mate. Speaking of you, Umbrella Co. with easter egg cosmetics [I point at the furiously looking octo] One don't have to be a biology expert analyzing someone's shit to tell you that we're the same species, like it or not. Having six interconnected tentacles looking like an umbrella and bunny ears don't mark you as-"
His face exploded with red colors and a pissed off grin. Next thing I see - lightning fast right hook to the cheek and I fall on my knees, almost going on free fall spinning on my way to kiss the asphalt. And here comes the pain, sharp, unwelcomed and as always late. Some by-passers gasp and notice our little misunderstanding. Those two associates inkling pull out brass knuckles and moving out of my sight, ready to backstab me with some punches. I adjust my right front tentacle and look at him with raised eyebrows. Th͟e͡y̨ ̧éas̡ily g͟et҉ tr͏i̸gg͏ȩr͏ed͠ ̸ìf ̨y͟o̢u e̕qual͠i̵ze the̸m ͡w͞ith ҉octo̵li͘ņgs ͢cu̧s ļets ͏f͠ac͘e ̶it̵ - ma͝j̛o̸r͝ity ̀do ̡i̴t ̕all thè t͡im̡e͠. Yea, thanks for not saying that earlier. Inhale. Exhale.
"I. Am. Not. An octoling! I'm dumbopus, you fucking pink-colored TWAT!"
I roll my eyes with annoying moan
"First: Splat yourself. I didn't choose that natural color! Second: that's racism and rudeness. Third-"
Yet he completely ignores my suggestion and waves his hands all over the place, looking mad and walking in circles spitting bullshit. I hope it's not contagious.
"Racism? Racism?! What do YOU know about that? Who started the Great Turf war because of envy? Who's responsible for cuttlefish genocide because they didn't wanted to be a part of your EX empire?! Do I need to mention how your kind went on full extinction of hornopi species and all slightly different looking octarian hybrids you deemed as impure heresy!? ...Your kind is cancer. You're cancer. Both in this city and turf. The government may tolerate you, but we don't! Go back to Octo Valley and rot in your bunkers!"
He pressures both physically and mentally me with aggressive monologues fueled by honest hate and emotions. All bark, no bite. But I'm out of options to leave - I'm surrounded by two armed inklings. I was wrong about them. Bypassing sealings got touched by his emotional speech, gathering around us and forming a cycle, cheering him up and trying to shame me with yells and swears... Could've shoved me in inkling's body for fuck sake! I don't understand the reasons behind all this, nor I care to understand. He might be right, but to me he's just a loud fucking fish with two chicks kissing his ass. This whole situation corners me in a pinch. If I won't do something, I'll be pressured and dominated by the numbers, possibly killed! Oh no...I'm not going to be slaughtered by a bunch of sentient food!
"...oooooooooh, как же вы меня забеали…! А НУ ВСЕ ЗАТКНУЛИ ЕБАЛЬНИКИ!"
I yelled out as loud as I could. I've tried to hit the breaks and end this peacefully, but I guess violence is the only option left! So̧ thąt͏'s̶ how y҉ou, ̵- ̀h̶um͘a͞ns̸ ̡-̕ ̴t͜e͝ll̶ ot͢h͢e͟ŗs̨ t̵o ͞S͏TFU͢.̸ ̸No͏te͟d. Aaargh, shut up, fish, human is working damn it! Now that they're silent, I can solve this irritating situation.
"Oh, for fapping out loud, your bullshit drives me insane!" I demonstratively say it in a tired tone while rolling my eyes and letting my arms fall down with my shoulders, dangling from lack of control.
"Let's do it your way, DUMBolings. Did octarians steal your beloved Great Zapfish to power up their menacing Great Octo Weapons and wage war because REASONS? Perhaps. But if so, then please explain, WHY is that piece of logic-defying flying air-breathing sentient FISH is still UP THERE….fucking me over with MY field of work and skills I spend decades to develop?! [I give up on my vocal cords as my voice plays flappy birds going up and down] Genocide and extinction? Heresy?! Bitch please, it's called 'stability' and 'great national victory' - typical stuff for a civilization to do. All this is a history, things of the past. If this is your reason to discriminate against an entire species and not those responsible...Then I feel sorry for you. I really do [Short pause] Because you're dumb.."
I catch my breath with angry breaths as the crowd goes quiet. It's hard to describe their reaction, but that one racist octo looks like a teen overcompensating for something and throwing a tantrum at everyone. Or so I think. He's angry, pissed off, and willing to fight, but someone from the crowd says something, which triggers his attention away from me.
'He's fucking right..'
'Hey, that not fucking fair. Your kind can play turf!'
'And what if I don't want to play it? What if I want to beat fish in uniform for a living?'
'You're inkling! Shut up and play turf!'
"That's squidshit!'
'If we're speaking about squidshit, then let's not forget those over-pumped bottom feeders!'
'The fuck you just mumbled about my glorious biceps, you spiky cyclops wanka?!'
'What a bias behavior coming from a species of rage free slaves-'
'Hah, stupid shark!'
'-And one eye smugglers overpopulating law enforcement..'
'Oof, burn'
'Oh, go fuck yourself, inferior single-minded mammals. My kind do All hard work in this city'
'Oh, look who's talking. Literal hivemind work addicted genderless medusa!'
I take a couple of steps back with worried face expression, 'distancing' myself from the crowd with palms. Sealings argue with each other with rapidly escalating loudness of their progressively aggressive voices, throwing complaints and insults. and tension. Things going physical, air stinks with tension, breaking out into a fight. To think that they were supporting that octo just a minute ago, and now he fights with them. I need to leave this place, before they swallow me in this mess.
H̨e̴-͝h͡é.͜ Wh̵o͏a.͏ ̸Boy, y͝ou̴ ̕h̡av͘e a ͢t̕a̸le͏n͟t͘ ͢for̛ star̕t͠ín҉g ͢ra͟ci̢al͠ ̧wars! I'm not proud of it. T͝h̨at w̕às̶ ̛a s̸ar͟c̶asm. ̕Y͡ou̢'҉ré ͟d̴iśǵr̴a͝cef̴ul̕ ̧sa҉ck of ̕s̸hi̕t́.̨ Y̨ou͢'͢ve̴ ̛tur҉ned͠ i͘n͟no̷cent͜ shi̛tba͠gs̷ a̕g̸ai͜ns͠t̴ ͢each̶ ot͢he̷ŗ! H͡iv͜é ҉fiv͢e͟! My frontal tentacles hive five each other and I can hear your inner laughter. What's so funny about it? That display of the social divide is disappointing. It's pitiful to watch... Nothing has changed. Fish, human - All the same!
Humans reaped what they sowed. Violence breeds violence, and for death one pays with death. Those who have no doubts and know no remorse will never break out of this circle...Think about it and guess how we ended up as a hollow echo in the wind of history. Yo҉ư c҉a̴n't ̵have̴ a dysto̵pi̕a, ͏R̷ick. J͟u͏s̡t̢ l̢o͜ok͘ at́ them ͢laugh͠ ͞it̛ ͢o͢f͞f án̛d co͡n̢t̨inue ͘t̡o̡ l͞iv̷e̕ ͟ąs you̧ w̵e̷ŗè. That's not a solution to a problem. Judg̢ińg b̷y͟ ͟you͜, ̛nukes a͜n̷d ̧cǫm̀p͡lȩte p̶la͡n̢e͏t a̡n̛ni̧hilàt̸iǫn di͡d̛n͝'t s͟olve̵ s͢hit̀ eith̨e̴r.̴
I stop and face slap myself with a painful sad sigh. Don't remind me of that. My hand pull out my phone and I turn in one of the old songs I've loaded in from CQ-80, to listen with a small speaker, singing alone as I walk among fish and catch questionable glares in my direction
Большие города/ Big town
Пустые поезда /Empty trains
Ни берега, ни дна/ No shore, no bottom
Все начинать сначала/ Start it all from scratch
Холодная Война / Cold War
И время как вода /And time is like water
Он не сошёл с ума /He didn't went insane
Ты ничего не знала… /You knew nothing...