Postal: Seventh Swell

by okcheez

Prologue:

I wake up everyday to the smell of coral in the air. I do not belong here. At least,

I don't think so. I'm just a Dude living somewhere next door to an old mechanic's house.

Maybe a certain goddess of chaos put me here for a purpose. Or maybe it's just for the shits

and giggles as she usually does.

The grandson of the mechanic seems remarkably optimistic and enthusiastic. I think his name is Renton.

Supposedly his father fought in a war and saved the world from these things called...scuds? No,

Scubs. Scub Coral to be exact. I'm surprised he still keeps a positive attitude. Seeing him bike

on to look for some waves. Basically he wants to become a professional air surfer or as the people here call the occupation "lifters". To me, lifting is just surfing on air disturbances caused by this planet's...breathing? I don't know.

One thing for sure, as I watch the morning TV show and do my coffee and crack routine, I actually knowthat this planet is actually alive. Not because some earth-worshippers told me so, but because, back in my previous life, I may have seen part of a show. El Wrecker Sven or whatever. I was in the middle of it. This world is similar to that show. I couldn't watch more of it because at the time, my father was busy going postal, causing a buzz on the TV. I once talked to some guy who specializes in selling lifting magazines and repairing lift boards. He said that Belleforest sucks; it doesn't have many lifters in the area besides Renton, who was his only customer that even gave a damn about lifting. Normally, I'd disagree due to scubs randomly popping out of the ground, but I feel this is pretty stale. Probably the fault of the local military branch.

Honestly, fuck them. I'd rather be a postal worker. So, indeed I became one. This place is better

than the previous reality. The one my father fucked shit up in. You're probably thinking I have regrets. I don't. I'm just tired of killing people with no other reason besides people pissing me off.

So, now what? Well, I still regret nothing. I only kill people who annoy me.

However, things here are still screwy, my mother was Voldarac, but she was nice enough. My dad here was basically this world's version of a liberal white ally. Like my dad, he went insane. Then again, my dad in this world was also more verbally abusive than physical compared to my dad in the previous world. My dad was nicer in this universe and actually cared about me, but I feel he cared more about secretly helping vodarac. One day, he went off the rocker and started to kill some people. Military officers and anyone hostile to him...mostly. At the

end of his long spree, his last words before he committed suicide by cop was "I may regret nothing, but maybe you should." That was when I realized that it's probably gonna get worse from there. I, later, discovered his diary of scribbles. He was...mentally eccentric, but also right. The final entry before he went postal was this:

"My wife was right all along, not that I doubted her in the first place. The scubs are not only alive, but sapient. I can't take the military's abuse of power anymore. I'm sick and tired of people ignoring their calls. This planet is alive. No...this was Earth all along. Covered in coral like ground. The military is also grooming child soldiers that come from the scubs. I must do something to give a sign. I hope my son sees my redemption. As for the military and their higher ups...and even their conservative allies, they'll all pay. The Earth is now thirsty for their blood. I'll gladly pay with theirs as well as mine."

I didn't understand this at first. He became a radical. His actions made things worse, right? Causing me and my mother to move into some voldarac shanty town. I hated my dad for the longest time. My mother, however, was hiding something. She told me that I'll understand his motive when I get older. At the age 18, I discovered a letter to me from a fellow mixed-race voldarac. I didn't practice the mysticism of the Voldarac, but I do feel some sympathy for them,

and I can't figure out why. Anyway, the letter said:

"Your father's actions was indeed inexcusable. His actions have caused us to isolate ourselves even more. Some of us are indeed radical enough to kill, but your father caused the genocide by the military to escalate. However, I cannot deny his last words to me and my friends: we need to proove [sic] a point. We cannot stand by and let them use the Corallians against us. Keep in mind, he was a meager postal worker, but he was right. Long after your father was killed, a corallian was indeed killing the Vodarac. I don't know what happened next, but apparently she stopped out of realization. Of regret. A totalopposite of your father. Rumor has it that she took in the children and raised them instead of killing them. I should mention we had connections with the scubs through a Corallian on our side. A priest managed to make her smile.

"To put it simply, it's okay to regret a little. You could regret nothing, but you should never go full-on like your father.

As a matter of fact, your connection to the Scubs will be more stable. I heard that you'll be helping a boy make the connection

as well. Here's a simple code of honor for you: never kill out of hatred. Only kill when it feels right. There'll be a war, but I hope you only kill in self-defense. I know that goes against anything my fellows have said, but I'm very rattled. It isn't that world is cruel, it's the people. Know this and you'll know more. Some people have said you shouldn't beg and get 'em yourself...and I agree. Keep going with your life. I'm sure you'll redeem some of us somehow.

One last thing: the Earth wants nothing more than to communicate. Make sure you do the right thing."

That letter motivated me to investigate. This world is more mysterious than I thought. At age 21, I moved to Belleforest. It seems the Earth wants me here, but this town...

"SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKS!"

I'm probably getting ahead of myself, but I would guess that was my neighbor's kid screaming. Renton to be exact. I guess I'll start at the beginning of the story. Whether I like it or not, I'll be involved in some shit. Not all of it will be with that Sonic Youth, but I feel like I might have to make a career change soon.

A/N: Oops, I botched together another fanfic. This time, it's Eureka Seven with Postal. Unlike my previous fic, I know more about Eureka Seven then I do Evangelion because I've actually seen Eureka Seven. This'll probably only suck a little less than Postal: Ayanami, but at least I'll know what I'll be doing.

Let me know what you think. I'll probably continue this either way though...maybe with some tweaks later on.

Thanks for reading.

Sincerely,

ok cheez.

P.S.: Don't worry, the Dude will be more crude in characterization as the fic goes on. ;)