"You must not run away...You must not turn your back on him for a second...He comes for those who have been driven into a corner with no way out...You must not talk about him...You must not think about him...Rumors sustain him...Imagination...Paranoia nurtures him!"
-Anonymous radio broadcast, heard on the eve before the destruction of Tokyo.
DREAM ISLAND OBSESSIONAL PARK
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In my dreams, I see an amusement park…
It's not one of those fancy theme parks you see today. It's one of those old Coney Island-type parks. A pier. A boardwalk. At night.
You rarely see places like these anymore.
I stand still, observing the main entrance with a mixed sense of awe and unease. Electric lights are strung around on aged wooden poles, the only other source of illumination from the flashing rides, booths, and large spotlights that shine upon the entrance. Above the turnstiles is a dirty neon sign, on top of which perches a wooden fresco of a bizarre creature. Some sort of pink, dog-like character. Its huge painted eyes seem to be staring at me. No wonder I feel unnerved.
The sounds of screaming, laughter, and music entice me out of my wowed state. I pass beneath the neon sign, beneath the creepy dog. The humming green letters read Dream Island Park. Huh.
As I pass through the empty turnstiles, I get a good look at the midway, lined with booths and packed with people. The people seem shadowy and indistinct. Somehow, I can't see their faces or details about them. But I keep moving forward, as if by some other force.
It's about here I realize this is a dream. The odd part is, I don't mind. I continue to glide down the pier, taking in the sites. Amongst the crowd, I begin to see faces.
I pass a hot-dog stand, where a shifty-eyed, slightly overweight man stands out in line, jabbering away on a cell-phone.
I pass a merry-go-round, the horses rising and falling in time with the fairground organ. Two boys, one thin and wearing a yellow baseball cap, the other pudgy and black-haired, ride by, laughing and smiling. The skinnier kid's teeth glimmer as the light hits them.
I pass what looks to be a Tunnel of Love, where a woman with short red hair, glasses, and wearing a plain green dress emerges alone from a tunnel on one of the boats, a soft smile on her lips.
More and more people begin to appear among the opaque masses as I move along. A portly, long faced man giving a prize-won doll to his daughter, a laughing teenager wearing a white hat. An old woman, hooting and howling with excitement as she rides the bumper cars. An unshaven, trench coated man strolling along with his right arm wrapped around the shoulders of a tired-looking woman, both of them chuckling. They all look happy and contented, as if they didn't have a care in the world.
Boy, what I wouldn't give to feel like that.
Finally, I see what I've been floating toward. A wooden roller coaster towers overhead, silhouetted against the full moon and clear night sky. The words Red Lightning stand bold and clear on the side of the first hill in great red letters. I can't help but stare transfixed at the sight.
"Are you ready for a ride?"
I stop looking up at the sound of the voice, and I realize I'm at the coaster station. The source of the voice is a squat old man, standing just to my left with his arms crossed behind his back. Just behind him is a red and white coaster train, completely empty, waiting for me to step inside. The man looks old enough that he'd need to stay in a permanent hospital, his face horribly wrinkled and splotched with aged spots, and his long gray hair flapping in the ocean breeze. He's dressed, however, in a swallowtail suit, complete with red bowtie and top hat. He smiles at me, revealing a few missing teeth.
"Are you ready for a ride?" he repeats, gesturing to the empty train with a gnarled hand. I can't help but feel a little confused. There's something eerie about him. And yet, I nod wordlessly, and step into the front car of the train. The old man, still smiling, pulls the lap bar down over me, which I grip with both hands. I had forgotten that I hate roller coasters, but I couldn't open my mouth to object.
The elderly man shuffles over to big lever poking out of the station platform, and grabs a hold of it with his bony hands. Just as I think that the old coot is nuts to even consider doing such a task at his apparent age, he grunts and pulls the lever down with ease. The train gives a jolt and begins to move out of the station. Through the clattery noise, I hear him say "Have fun!"
Why did this dream have to involve roller coasters? I keep reminding myself that this isn't real as the car makes a left turn and begins to clatter up the lift hill.
Up here, I can see the entire park, which is indeed situated on a pier over a vast and dark sea, glimmering beautifully in the light of the moon. It is a grand sight, all of those twinkling lights and whirling rides in miniature. Below, the shadowy people look like little black insects as the train clanks higher and higher up the lift. As I gaze at the serene scene, my fear of thrill rides forgotten for the moment, I catch sight of one distinct figure amidst the surreal throng of people.
From here, it seems strange I can see so many details of this person. Then again, this is a dream. It's a girl, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties, with shoulder-length black hair, a pink long-sleeved blouse, and white skirt. Clutched to her chest with both arms is a doll, the same pink dog from the gate. Its round eyes seem to be focused on the woman holding her. As for the woman…She stares right at me, and our eyes meet. Her expression is blank, but her eyes seem afraid and sad. This is the only unhappy face I've seen in this park.
Distracted as I am, I'm barely prepared for being tapped on the shoulder from somewhere behind.
I nearly jump out of my seat. Angrily, I whip my head around to look behind me. My anger turns to shock very quickly. Hadn't the car been empty when I got on?
Sitting in the previously empty seat behind me is a kid, probably in his pre-teens. His eyes are hidden by the brim of a red baseball cap, the front decorated with strange pins. Tufts of brown, curly hair poke out from the sides. He's dressed in a dark gray hooded sweatshirt, and he holds a terribly dented yellow baseball bat across his lap. His mouth carries the ghost of a smile.
All other sensations fade, The lights of the midway, the jostling of the coaster, the smells of popcorn and cotton candy; all replaced by a deep, gut feeling. I don't know why, but this kid…scares me.
The coaster reaches the top of the hill.
The kid grins, revealing a set of pearly white teeth.
The car plummets…
---
You know that weird feeling when you fall asleep and wake up feeling like you just fell?
Then you know how I felt.
I sat bolt upright in bed, panting and shuddering, my eyes unable to focus in the near darkness of the room. The images of the dream I just had were still fresh in my mind. It had all seemed so real, and I could recap the whole thing vividly. Every little detail stuck. I'd never had a dream like before…Especially not one that freaked me out so much.
When my breathing finally did calm, I realized my sheets were damp with sweat. It was fairly cool in the room, thanks to the air conditioner that, I observed, was humming along quietly in the background, the only other sound my shallow breaths. Shaking my head, I swung my legs across and stumbled out of bed, across the dark room, and into the bathroom, where my right hand fumbled across the wall until I finally found the light switch.
I recoiled slightly as the overhead light came on, shielding my tired eyes with my hand. While I waited for my eyesight to adjust, my thoughts once again returned to my strange dream. The two things that truly stuck out, clearest of all my memories, were the nervous young woman and the creepy kid. That kid…I shuddered, even then, at the thought of him. I didn't know why. He had triggered something frightening within my psyche, I guess.
Sighing, I finally reached over to the tap, turning on the cold water. I splashed some on my face, then looked at my reflection in the mirror. There I am. Andrew Bridge. A young man just coming into his new age of seventeen. Still somewhat pale, still with ever-untidy black hair. Fairly well muscled, but a little skinny. I realized how stupid I looked dressed in my white tank top and red boxers. Smiling, I flexed at my reflection, taking some small pride in my physical shape.
"Hello, handsome," I said in a hoarse whisper, arching an amused eyebrow at the mirror.
My reflection smiled ruefully back.
Everyone's a critic.
Chuckling, I stepped back out of the bathroom, observing my dim room from the light behind me. Everything looked in order. My computer sat dormant on my desk, switched off. My clarinet case leaned against my dresser. Posters of various Jazz artists-Louie Armstrong, Charlie Parker, Ella Fitzgerald, among others-lined my bedroom walls. The closed blinds on my window shifted slowly in the breeze coming in through the screen behind them. The electric clock on my bedside table read three thirty-four. Lovely. Well, at least it was a weekend, and I didn't have to go anywhere.
My head still buzzed with memories of my bad dream. I groaned. At this rate, I'd never get back to sleep without distracting myself a little first. I could have picked up a book, but instead decided to maybe zone out in front of the TV until I felt tired again. With this in mind, I tip-toed downstairs and plopped myself onto the couch in the dark living room, grabbing the remote and flipping the idiot box on.
Something leapt silently onto the cushion beside me, letting out a short mew. Schneider, my orange tabby cat, is a very interesting animal, acting more like a friendly dog than a cat sometimes. His endearing traits include begging at the table, rolling over on command, and licking your face as a sign of affection…when he feels like it. Smiling, I scratched him between his ears. He purred contentedly and curled up beside me. Out of everyone in the family, he likes me the best. Never scratched me once.
My attention turned back to the TV, where the news was currently going. Why the channel was set to the twenty-four hour news network, I can only guess. My dad is obsessed with keeping with current events. And living in the small town we do, he keeps an eye on the news. The woman on screen seemed to be in the middle of a big story, as she spoke in low, serious tones. I was about to change the channel on it until I heard what she was saying.
"…and no word yet on the exact cause, although the Japanese government is already preparing for the worst." She said, ruffling the papers in he hands before she spoke again. "For those of you just coming in, we're reporting on a large, devastating catastrophe that has destroyed most of Tokyo, Japan. The city was apparently hit by some sort of large explosion a few hours ago, although this is under speculation. Communications to and from Tokyo were cut off when the disaster hit, and it's only just now that we're getting any information. There have been no eye-witness reports and no military involvement yet. It seems that this has caught just about everyone, including the Japanese government, by surprise."
A deep feeling of worried fear washed over me as I watched the flickering screen. I sat in silent horror, unable to move. Schneider, snoozing peacefully, twitched his front paws in his sleep, perhaps sensing my tension somewhere. My dim thoughts all clicked together after a few seconds, and I hastily stood up, waking the cat from his slumber. I can only imagine that he glowered after me as I charged back upstairs (my parents could sleep through a hurricane, though I wasn't concerned by that at the moment) and into my room, where I immediately began digging through my backpack, which crumpled sat between my bed and my dresser. A few seconds later, my right hand closed around the small metal and plastic object I sought. Thank God my cell was where I left it.
The tiny screen cast a small green glow on my worried face as I navigated through the lists of numbers. Finally, I hit the "Call" button and pressed the phone to my ear.
Ring…Ring…I silently hoped that I was just being paranoid. Ring…
… "Hello?" came a feminine voice.
My panic subsided a bit. "Emma! It's me! Are you alright?"
"Huh? Why? I'm just fine." Her voice sounded a bit tired. "What's wrong?"
"You're not still in Japan, are you?" I asked.
A chuckle. "I thought I had told you I was coming home tomorrow. We're stopped over in California right now." Her voice now took on a concerned tone. "Andrew, what is it? You wouldn't be calling me this late if it wasn't important. What is it, like, three in the morning where you are?"
"I was just…worried, that's all. I heard about that explosion in Tokyo, and-"
"You heard about that?" She sounded surprised. "News does travel fast. Yeah. We're fine. We were well on our way back when that happened."
"And your grandmother?"
"She's fine too. We had already gotten her settled in Kyoto before any of this happened. Good thing too. Grandma was saying how nice it was to finally get out of the big city. I don't have any other relatives living in Tokyo, thank god."
I let out a huge sigh of relief. For a little while, images of attending my best friend's funeral had floated, unchecked, through my mind. These, fortunately, were put aside with the knowledge that Emma was fine, and on her way back.
"Anyway," she said, "I'm glad we're not there while that mess is going on. I can't imagine what those poor people in Tokyo are going through."
"Yeah," I replied simply, still at a bit of loss for words to describe the current disaster.
"But I had such a great time!" she continued. "You'll have to come with me someday. I know you'd love it there. I have so many stories to tell you when I get back."
I smiled. I was still envious of her being able to travel to Japan. One of the things we both had in common was an interest in Japan, it's culture, and anything else. Probably sparked by the fact that we both spent a lot of our childhood watching anime together.
"I'm looking forward to it," I said. "When will you be back?"
"Tomorrow evening, I think," she answered. "Oh! And I got you a souvenir. It's the cutest little doll I've ever seen. It's name's Maromi. I'll give it to you when I see you next, okay?"
"Sure. And you'll have to fill me in on everything. Anyway, I think we're both tired. I'll let you get some rest."
"Alright. And I appreciate the fact that you were worried about me. I'll see you later."
I blushed slightly. "Sure thing. Bye."
"Bye," Click.
Putting the phone away, I shook my head and grinned to myself. What a weird night this has been, with that bizarre dream and the television report. My curiosity, piqued as it was by the news of the mysterious catastrophe, would have to wait until the morning, as I was beginning to feel tired again. I climbed back into bed and fell, almost instantly, into a deep sleep. However, more dreams came to me. The boy with the twisted golden bat stood, with a pair of gold rollerblades on his feet, in an open, sunlit field, laughing silently until the morning.
---
In a dark, cluttered room, a computer screen flickers to life.
Displayed on the iridescent monitor is this:
Enter Username: goumahunter34
Enter Password: ------
Processing...
Welcome, goumahunter34. Please enter your search query below.
: maromi
Searching...
1 match(s) found to keyword "maromi":
shonenbatshonenbatshonenbatshonenbat
shonenbatshonenbatshonenbatshonenbat
lilslugger
MA lilslugger
lilslugger
RO lilslugger
lilslugger
MI lilslugger
shonenbatshonenbatshonenbatshonenbat
shonenbatshonenbatshonenbatshonenbat
1o2n3e4a5n6d789goldenmonkey9t8h7e6s5a4m3e21
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Hello, everyone! If you took the time to read this, thank you. I tried my best. Things may start off a little slowly in the first couple of chapters, but it sets things in motion, so please bear with me. First off, I do not own Paranoia Agent. If I did, I wouldn't be anywhere as good a series as it is. Thank you very much for the wonderful series, Kon-sensei!
Anyways, the story idea first came to me mere minutes after watching the Final Episode. I thought about it for a long time, and developed what I hope will be a story good enough to bare the name "Paranoia Agent". Another big thank-you goes out to TURMOIL and Terryllennium, who's fantastic works have helped spark my ambition to write this story. If either of you guys are reading this, I want you to know that you have my respect.
Finally, I'd like to ask for your Reveiws, everyone. It helps keep an author going. Comments, criticisms, whatever. All is appreciated.
Stay tuned! Chapter 2 is in the works. For now, farewell!
-Booster
