Dehydration.
My head hurts.
No more beer. Not ever. I don't know what kind of fucking beer that was, but I'm never drinking it again.
Last night was horrible. This morning was horrible. Right now is horrible.
Unlike any hangover I've ever felt before. Like I'm uncomfortable in my own skin. Like I can't feel comfort in itself any longer. Like I'll never be normal again.
Melancholy times infinity.
I simply do not wish to be.
Fuck. I need something.
Breakfast. However, the idea of ingesting anything at this point is sickening.
I suppose I'll try and drink some milk and then get to work. There's the job to do.
"Antoine? Yeah. I know him. Or, I knew him before, rather."
"What can you tell me about him?"
"Sweet little thing, he is. Kind of infatuated with me at one point."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Don't print that, though. I hated to hurt the little guy's feelings, but what he couldn't seem to understand was the fact that I don't.. I can't.."
"What?"
"I can't have… relations."
"Meaning?"
A sigh.
"Look at me, hun. I don't have any lady parts. I'm seventy-five percent robot. Twenty-five percent rabbit. That's where the nickname comes from."
"Bunnie Rabbot isn't your real name?"
She laughs at me, holding her mechanic arm over her stomach, and partially doubling over. Her regular arm over her steel one.
"Heavens no, sugar!"
"What is it?"
"My name? Scarlett O'Hare. Heavens, it hasn't been said in ages."
"And what's your take on Antoine's little rebellion?"
"I don't rightly understand it. We're all under a lot of stress here in Knothole, so it's understandable. I'm sure you know that as well as I do. Who knows? Maybe we do need a new leader. Sally-girl has been completely broken up since Sonic was… well, you know. They had a thing for each other. I don't think she can hack it, anymore. I don't know. I really try not to think about all of this."
"Where do you stand on the subject of the war?"
This makes her uncomfortable. Her ears are twitching, and her good arm is scratching her mechanical one.
Looking away.
"There's hope" she says. "There's always hope."
Does she believe this? Or is she just trying to stuff comfort up her nose, and into her brain? Into mine?
People seem to feed off solace, false or sincere. Comfort in telling yourself something. Comfort in others telling you the same.
We're all high on hope.
"Is that everything?"
"Yeah, just about. You mind if I include your statements in our paper?"
"Sure. Whatever you want. Just remember to leave out the stuff about his infatuation, okay?"
"Right."
Took an early break. I feel better now.
Some food did me right. Feel pretty good.
Eggs and coffee.
Filled up the canteen with water.
I'm ready to take on the day. I feel restored entirely.
"Hey sir, can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Me? Sure."
"Were you here yesterday?"
"What do you mean? Around what time?"
"For the speech, I meant. Did you hear the speech?"
"Yeah. I heard it, alright."
"What did you think?"
"I think he's right, man."
"About what? Would you care to elaborate?"
"Sure, man. There needs to be some god damn change around here, you know? I mean, Sally has been leading us nowhere except downhill. Think about where Sonic is. He was our primary defense, and he's fucking gone, man! Sally hasn't come up with any plan, man. The queen won't even leave the fucking castle. She hasn't come out with any solutions, or messages of hope for days."
"Have you ever thought about the stress one must be under in a position like that? Don't you think that even you might need time alone to sort things out?"
"No, man. We don't need a fucking quitter in charge. If you can't handle the stress, don't try to do the fucking job, you know?"
"Right, and you think that this Antoine can do a better job?"
"It's better than sitting around here, waiting to die. You know?"
"Friends! Humble citizens of this fine community! I ask you where your leader is."
Some murmuring throughout the crowd. Indecipherable mumbles and whispers. Half-spoken answers.
Coughing.
"I'll tell you where your leader is. Your leader stands before you. Here on this very platform."
"You aren't our leader!" unknown faces shout from the crowd.
The group in undeniably bigger today.
"Oh? And who is your leader, my fair people?"
"Sally Acorn!"
"Ah yes. The loyalists. Tell me, if you are so loyal, why are you not by her side right this instant? Bowing and scraping at her feet, and telling her how great of a leader she is? The answer is most likely that she has locked herself away. Now, why would someone who represents the people isolate herself from them? Surely your mighty leader can do better without her dumb servants, yes? Her slaves? Her pawns in a chess match that she's losing?? Do not even try to make me laugh with this nonsense. This loyalty. Hah. Loyalty. Why? Why are you so afraid of change? Can you not see this ship is sinking? Are you going to sit around sucking off the captain, or are you going to fix the god damn ship?!"
"That's crude!" a faceless mobian woman shouts from the small sea of people.
"But it's true. Please, if any of you adults simply can not handle the truth, please go to your homes. We do not need you here. But hopefully none of you will leave. Hopefully we are all grown ups here."
"Fuck yeah!"
A cheesy smile spreads across Antoine's face, as he shifts his weight back and forth on his stage. In his spotlight.
"Tell me. If your leader cares about you so much, than why has she just given up? Why is she not here right now, fighting for the title herself?"
"Hey, yeah!"
More shouts from the crowd. He's gaining their favor for the most part, yet there are still boos scattered all around me.
"She isn't here because she isn't your leader. I stand before you, your leader."
"What do you think of Antoine's campaign?"
"It's strange, really. I'm not sure what to make of it. I don't know, I feel a bit funny at the moment, and I think I need to go home."
"Could you just answer a couple of questions, please?"
"….I suppose"
"Great. Do you know Antoine personally?"
"No. I seen him guarding the ring pool back before the incident with Sonic. He might have actually gone on that mission with him. I think I heard something like that."
She's staring off into the skyline while talking to me. Her voice fading, her expression is stone. Her mouth starts twitching.
"See something interesting out there?"
"What? No, I.. I was. I. Uh. Birds."
"Are you okay, ma'am?"
"I'm fine. I love birds."
"I didn't ask about birds. I asked about Antoine."
"Antoine? He seems nice. He seems like he really wants to help us. I like him. I like his face."
"Right. Uh.. right. Are you okay, ma'am? Seriously."
"I'm" she pauses, looking down at the ground, and slowly dragging her gaze up her legs and up to her hands. Her left hand starts slowly opening and closing. Her right hand is waving back and forth. Her mouth is agape, her eyes wide. "….fine. I think I'm fine. I feel pretty okay. How are you doing?"
"I'm okay. I'd like to continue with my questions though, if that's okay."
"That would be fine. Just fine. By me. Fine by me."
"Right. What are your feelings on the war?"
"War is definitely bad. I don't like it. This is making me feel uncomfortable. Who do you work for?"
"Knothole weekly. I'm covering this event."
"Oh. With what?"
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not.. I think I have to go."
"Alright."
Picking my pen from my coat pocket, I flip open the notepad and get it ready.
"Can I get your name?"
Looking up, I notice her stumbling away. What the fuck? Is she drunk? Probably on that same fucking beer Rotor drinks.
People these days.
"I have a plan, people."
An extremely confused mob demands answers in at least twelve different manners. At the exact same time.
The questions are almost all identical. What is this plan? The people want to know. Can this man deliver?
"I'll tell you what I have planned. Better than that, I'll tell you what we have planned. I say we, because we are a team, yes?"
More uproar. Some against, others in favor. Most of them basically say "get on with it!"
"Why are you dancing around it, Antoine?"
"Answer us!"
"Show them!"
"What are you going to do?!"
"We are going to stop living in fear, that's what! We're going to stop living in fear! We're going to take back what's rightfully ours! Friends! I implore you; let us bring justice back!"
Cheering. An uproar.
Taking a sip from the canteen, I finally notice.
He's won the crowd. And that's all it took.
"Say, you think I could talk to you before you go on?"
"Sure. I suppose I could spare a moment for a humble citizen such as myself."
He notices me removing the pen and pad from my pocket.
"I just want to ask you a few questions."
"What is this about? Who do you work for?"
"Knothole weekly. About your campaign."
"Oh, you're a writer? For the paper, huh?"
"That's right. You mind if I interview you for the paper?"
"How about this; I'll answer a few questions after the speech. You may find most of the answers your looking for there."
"BRING JUSTICE BACK!"
"BRING JUSTICE BACK!!"
The crowd screams his own words back at him.
How the fuck did this happen?
"STOP THIS!"
You can hardly hear him over the crowd.
His voice, so strong and loud.
"STOP THIS NOW!"
He's pushing his way through the crowd, making his way up to the stage.
Miles.
Antoine is backing to the other side of his stage as Miles advances towards it. Closing in fast, Antoine's trembling voice tries to fend him off.
"Please step back from the-"
Miles is already on top of him before we have any idea what the fuck is going on.
The people start to react. The larger fraction of the group advances as well.
A fist to the temple sends Antoine's face into his metal stage. A line of blood from his nose to the steel, as he tries to push himself up with his arms.
The crowd is advancing. Only a few of are left, mere spectators to this chaos. Unsure how to react.
What the fuck is going on?
"THE WALRUS! THE FUCKING WALRUS! THE CARPENTER ISN'T EVEN FUCKIn-"
Overwhelmed by an angry mob, Miles disappears. A pissed off tangled mess tries to make sense out of itself.
Slowly they back away, about three of them carrying what looks like an unconscious fox.
Miles.
At least, I think he's unconscious.
Or is he dead?
I can't exactly process this shit..
Where are they taking him?