Chapter II: Smoke on the Water
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"Liberty, once lost, is lost forever."
-John Adams
=TxHxL=
John scowled as he failed to tie the knot in his shoes again. Applying too much force, he snapped the shoelace.
"Fuck!" John muttered in irritation as he stood up to retrieve another spare lace from his wardrobe.
After that, he proceeded to don his denim jacket, the piece of clothing that men of Kansas proudly wear as they drive their trucks and till their lands.
He walked to his living room and grabbed his backpack. Why? Because he was going to school. A normal school. He had been attending for a whole month already.
John felt a vein pop in his head as he remembered that Vought had enrolled him in a school full of inferior beings.
Not even their own heroic school, not even their own corporate-funded luxurious campuses. No, they just had to place him in some fucking Midwestern High School.
"A final trial before my debut—my ass. As if those fat fucks in that Tower on 82 give a damn about competence," John monologued in his stewing anger. He knows Vought. He knows that it's a place run by cockroaches and inferior monkeys. Degenerates who would save their own skin like the pathetic worms that they are. He wondered why he hadn't crushed them under his boot yet.
Emerging from his house, the door creaking in protest against its hinges, he found himself standing at the threshold of his property—a vast three-acre stretch of land, an emblem of middle-class Midwestern American prosperity. No crops could be seen yet because he didn't have the will to plant. "Fuck that. I'm a god, not some farmer."
His neighbor, Patrick, meanwhile, lived an acre away from his house. That man was an… adequate neighbor. He knew his place and greeted John every morning.
Then, he looked at his barn just one acre away. At that, he scowled further. After all, that's where the pink-haired alien forced her way in after their discussion last night.
=TxHxL=
Yesterday. 8 pm. John's House
"What the fuck was that?" John asked as calmly as he could. He wore a new set of clothes from his wardrobe after the earlier explosion incident.
"Well, you know, sometimes I make so many things that I even forget some of their full capabilities. In the case of Vacuum-kun, well… It seems that I didn't implant a proper kill switch. Teehee!" Lala apologetically said, knocking her own head playfully.
John was at his wit's end. This woman was a retard. No scratch that, she was both intelligent — he had to give her some credit for her otherworldly inventions — and an empty-headed idiot. There was no other word for it. How could such a woman, lacking proper interpersonal qualities, even exist? No wait…Wasn't he just the same? He grew up as a lab rat. Wasn't he just a hypocrite? John shook his head and never dared to wander into that territory. He didn't need to. He was perfect the way he was. He was perfection manifest.
"So, when will you go?" John asked her about the magnus opus.
Lala looked at John as if she hadn't even contemplated such a question.
"What do you mean?" Lala asked with an innocent and confused voice.
'What the hell? She didn't even contemplate it? Is she mentally challenged or just a blatant imbecile?' John asked with rising anger.
"I mean, when will you go away? Where will you stay?" Irritation rose in John.
"Huh? What are you talking about? Here, of course." The pink-haired alien had the gall to actually look at him as if he was a strange animal asking a strange question.
"No!" John immediately replied in growing horror.
"Yes! What Lala-sama says is what she will do. You have no choice, Earthling," Peke stated in both a proud and resigned tone.
"I said No! It's bad enough that an explosion the size of a baby Tsar Bomba happened earlier, but it will be worse if Vought knew that you're here!" John gritted his teeth as he laid down the main reason. Vought would have a piece of her if they were aware of her existence. And that can't do. It's not that John cares about the prattling of this alien woman; it's just having Vought intruding in his house is not negotiable in any way.
Yes, he doesn't care about her at all. None. Nada. Zero care. She doesn't deserve his attention.
"Now that it's settled, that barn there is my new lab!" Lala said cheerfully as she rushed out of the window to go over to his own barn an acre away from his house.
"No! What the hell!? I own this hou—WAIT, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO THE SOIL!?" John rushed to stop Lala but stopped when she stood in the middle of his three-acre land, placing three golden balls, clearly made of steel, onto the soil.
"Puripuri-kuns, I leave it to you to get the full analysis of this soil!" Lala energetically commanded to her own inventions.
"PURI!" The golden steel balls screamed out in a robotic voice as they dug themselves into the ground.
"What in the name?" John wondered incredulously.
"The soil may be of some use to my lab." Lala waved her hands in a childish way as she explained to John.
Afterward, she immediately rushed to the barn.
"No, stop! What's wrong with you, woman!? This is my property! Thomas Jefferson himself will fucking shoot you! What you're doing right now is very un-American!" John screamed as he rushed after her. The strongest man on Earth, for the first time in his life, was stressed out.
In the end, John conceded and gave her the barn.
=TxHxL=
John felt a headache every time he remembers the events yesterday. As if that's not enough, he looked at his barn again, then it started to fucking shake.
'What the fuck is she doing in there?' is the only thought that John has before activating his X-Ray vision to check.
Then, when he looked inside, he saw Lala, of course. Her beating heart, her tail, her inhuman anatomy, her breasts….. No, not that.
What got his attention, however, is that she's FUCKING TINKERING WITH HIS SEED DRILLS AND TRACTOR! What the fuck! Although he would never use it, it is still HIS. What is HIS, only HE CAN TOUCH.
He rushed at the entrance of the barn just half a second. Superspeed.
Then, he pushed the door harshly, but not too harsh, as it may break, "What the hell, woman!? What are you doing with MY equipment!?" His voice resounded on the farm.
Lala covered her ears, "Atatata… John please be quiet! It's too early!" She stated while covering her ears cutely.
"You are touching my seed drills and Tractor!" He reiterated harshly.
"More like maintaining it! Seedy-kun and Tract-chan are in poor condition. … Such abused children…" Lala teared out comically.
John popped a vein in his head at the pink-haired alien's childishness and her naming conventions, "What are you even saying?"
"Seedy-kun is full of rust! The seed tubes were not lubricated and showed signs of rusting, the gauge wheels are faulty, the hydraulic lines were clogged, the corrosion and rusts… Oh poor boy…" Lala hugged the seed drill while comical tears raced out of her eyes.
"Wait, they're that broken?" John asked with confusion. Perhaps the barn belonged to the previous owner of the land. Some incompetent fuck at the Tower probably thought to not just fuck with it since he will not use it anyway. Imbeciles.
"And not just that! Tract-chan was abused! Abused I tell you! The tires are rotting, battery is dead, air filter is clogged, belts are frayed, fuel system was dirtied to kingdom come…. How did such barbarity ensued…." Lala cried tears of sadness in a comedic way.
"Yeah? I don't give a shit! Don't touch them, they're mine!" John crossed his arms in his chest and retorted to the crying alien.
"No! I WILL take care of them!" Lala hotly retorted to him.
"You little—" John stopped. His hearing picked up something. The sound of a vehicle.
Then, he looked outside his acres of land and saw a man driving a truck. The man was in his middle-age and his raven hair was showing signs of greying.
"Pastor Nicholas..." John muttered out, though not surprised.
Pastor Nicholas is his ride to school. He's actually a great guy, but too much of a god-botherer.
Pastor Nicholas always gives him a ride every morning. It actually started when he helped him with his truck a month ago. He would have ignored him, but he realized that would be bad for his reputation. He didn't want to fail his shit before even debuting. So, he did what every pretentious sack of shits boy scouts do when they want to have a moral high ground: he helped the Pastor in fixing his truck.
The Pastor thanked him by the way of giving him a ride every morning to the school. It didn't help that they have the same route and schedule as Pastor Nicholas always preach in early morning and an hour before sunset. He's that dedicated.
"Shit, that's my ride. You stay here and do not do any tomfoolery! Got me? And don't violate my equipment!" John said as he walked away towards his ride.
"Whatever! Bleugh!" Lala showed her tongue as a way of childishly defying John's instructions.
John ignored what the alien just did and rushed to meet the Pastor.
"Pastor Nicholas, good morning!" John put on his façade as an All-American Greatest.
"Bless you, John. The Good Lord gave me another day to live!" Pastor Nicholas, wearing a white long sleeve and a tie, cheerfully stated while inviting John to the passenger seat of his pickup truck.
"Thank you for the ride as always." John stated with a smile and a respectful tone. He does not need to be his true self right now.
"Ah, that's right John. I just want to say, I'm truly, truly thankful for what you did for my daughter." The raven-haired pastor stated with a sincere voice as he drove his car across the road.
The traffic was practically nonexistent as Bigville is not a sprawling Metropolis like New York was.
"Uhm... What?" John did a double take. He refreshed his memory but he can't really remember who he's supposed daughter was or what he did. He's not supposed to remember cockroaches after all.
"My daughter, John? The one you helped last week? My blonde daughter that goes to your school and was hounded by boys? The one being harassed by scoundrel shitheads. Forgive me Lord for using such profanity..." Pastor Nick narrowed his eyes and gripped the steering wheel. Clearly, he was unhappy.
John closed his eyes and tried to remember the events last week.
=TxHxL=
Last week.
The blonde supe walked out of school. His backpack was strapped to his back. Only one strap, of course. That's a fitting strap for a god.
Everywhere he walked, he got attention. Sneers from men couple with envy, and disgusting salivating looks from women. But no one dared to socialize with him. He's come across the campus as a strange and asocial creature.
He's been attending Bigville High for three weeks already.
As he walked outside the school, he could see cliques already forming. It's not even been a month, and cliques are already forming. Besides, why did he transfer as a freshman? He's already 17 years old, for Christ's sake!
He looked to his right; he saw young men, probably jocks, in their sophomore and senior years since most of them wore the signature football varsity jackets. Add to that the women hugging their arms like pathetic harlots.
Disgusting. These apes were really that shortsighted and uncultured.
Then the women looked at him. Their eyes were steady on him. They actually blushed. What the fuck? Their audacity is certainly otherworldly if they can do that while they are wrapped around the arms of another man.
But John can't fault them. He is the perfect being, after all. It's expected that they will react like that. To do otherwise is blasphemy.
John ignored them and simply kept walking. He didn't want to bother interacting with these rats.
The bashful looks of women got the attention of the men wrapping their arms around them. They scowled and looked at the far-away back of the blonde Supe. They would have picked a fight, but they refrained from doing so because it's not a good idea to pick a fight at the school gates.
"Tch. That pretty boy fucko will get his ass handed to him one day or another. I promise." One of the jocks whispered under his breath.
Of course, John heard it. Superhearing is a nice perk after all.
"I can't wait for that. That's the moment you will learn your fucking place, monkey." John sneered with arrogance. The sneer that only the predator at the top of the food chain could make.
The blonde Supe walked as he witnessed the flowers of youth in the midwest engaging in animalistic interpersonal interactions.
Kissing in the sideways, others smoking cigarettes, some couples were even doing something in the dark shade. Even in the clothing store that he passed by, some degenerates were fooling around, with them biting each other in the neck in a scandalous way while scantily clad in scandalous clothes.
The American degeneracy on display would make their ancestors weep. But John didn't care. After all, it's what he expects cockroaches and inferior scum to do. Monkeys will keep doing monkey things. Such things would never change.
John kept walking to his home. He preferred it to flying or speeding away. Such freedom wouldn't be forever anyway.
He would have continued his pace, but his ears perked. He stopped at the sidewalk. He looked to the other side of the road, just at the fork beside the local restaurant.
He saw a blonde woman wearing a pink jacket and denim pants. Her green eyes complemented her hair, along with the sharpness of her nose. Her face is pristine, clean, and soft, accentuating her smooth cherry lips. Her breasts are bigger than ave—no. Only monkeys engage with such carnal thinking.
John saw the blond woman being blocked on her way home by three men. A raven-haired teen suddenly smirked while his two friends were sneering.
"Hey, Miss Honor Roll, you haven't answered my question yet: Will you go out with me or will you go out with me?" The raven-haired teen was wearing a shirt printed with an image of one of Payback's famous heroes, "Swatto".
"When will you cut it out, Lou? I'm not interested in anything with you and your childishness." The blonde girl calmly and coldly replied.
One of the friends of the raven-haired teen echoed out, "Feisty, ain't she?"
The raven-haired teen widened his smirk.
"How many times do I have to ask you that I reject your rejection? Why do you have to be this way? Ain't Jesus thought you to be giving and kind?" he asked rather sarcastically, hinting at her faith with some mockery perhaps.
The blonde woman merely looked at him before smirking, "Hah! You're really childish, aren't you? Besides, are you even a proper man? I mean, Abigail said otherwise."
The blonde woman threatened to let her smirk split her beautiful face.
The raven-haired teen lost his smirk. Suddenly, he was shocked.
In his disorientation, he asked, "What the fuck did that bitch tell you?"
The blonde woman almost laughed; her cherry lips threatened to grin more. "Nothing. Just one more reason to reject you, Mr. One. Pump. Chump." She emphasized each word with a mocking tone.
The raven-haired teen lost his cool. His previous flirting disposition disappeared. He sputtered out in anger, "You fucking bitch! I show you! I'll fucking show you, you fucking arrogant whore!"
"Don't you dare to fucking touch me, scum," the blonde woman coldly stated.
Then the eyes of the woman looked at John. Their eyes met at that moment.
John was prepared to just ignore the situation, but the moment the eye contact happened, he knew he couldn't get out of this situation.
It's not like the blonde woman was seeking help. She can clearly handle herself. What matters is that she saw him on the scene. If the word got out that he left a woman to fend for herself, that would be nasty. Midwestern men value chivalry compared to other urbanites. He will be fucked if word gets out that he ignored a woman being harassed by men.
That's why John did the most embarrassing and cringe-inducing cliche ever: interfering on the fucking matters of others. especially women. The only men who do this are the ones expecting some carnal reward afterwards for the one they've saved. It's fucking pathetic, he clearly thinks.
John walked to where the blonde woman was.
Before the raven-haired teen grabbed the woman, John intervened and held his right arm in place.
"I don't think you want to do that, buddy," John warned with a smile on his face.
The raven-haired teen looked at the man who interfered hotly and asked, "And who the fuck are you, pretty boy?"
John doesn't really care, but he hates the term "pretty boy". Yes, his looks were above average, but calling him in an effeminate way doesn't sit well with him. He's a child who grew up watching John Wayne and Davy Crockett on loop, after all.
"I'm Mr. Go Fuck Off Somewhere Else," John replied with a forced smile.
"Is that so, huh?" The raven-haired man, Lou, asked with bravado.
Then Lou clenched a fist with his other hand and went for a punch. With the angle of his attack, any normal human would have a crack in their skull. That's more true, especially with the force Lou is currently applying to his attack. He's a seasoned brawler, after all.
That is, if John were a normal man.
A second after the contact between the face and the blonde supe happened, a crack resounded in the road.
A sound of bone cracking
"AHHHHHH!" Lou screamed. He screamed and screamed. The pain was too much. He shouted like it was the end of the world. Like a wolf being eaten slowly by a larger predator.
His right arm was disfigured. The bones in his fist were shattered. In fact, it looks gnarly. Muscles were torn. Bones threatened to escape the skin.
John simply looked at the man screaming at the ground before stating, "I believe I said earlier that you should fuck off."
The blonde supe was unconcerned. Whether the pig squeal or not, in the end it was still a pig.
John looked at the remaining goons. The two men beside the screaming raven-haired teen were addressed by the blonde demigod, "I believe he needs proper healthcare. He will pay for it on his own since he's a red-blooded American after all. No government babydaddies here. Thankfully, unlike Europe, here in America you won't need to wait for a whole damn year to address your needs."
John kept a jolly smile on his face as he spoke. The all-American facial expression that had been hammered into him since he was a child manifested itself.
The two goons looked at John and at their screaming friend. They backed out of trying to assault the blonde supe as they saw the man screaming on the ground.
"Sh-shit! We'll remember this! You hear me!?" One of the goons cried out as he and his friend carried the injured raven-haired teen away.
When the three men got away, silence reigned for a moment at the fork of the road.
Soon, the blonde beauty wearing a pink jacket broke it, saying, "I didn't need your help."
She coldly stated. She didn't expect him to help. She thought he was just another person minding his business. Besides, she can handle herself anyway, with or without help.
John took a deep breath and sighed. He pinched his nose as he faced his back to the blonde woman.
"Why did you—" the golden-haired beauty was cut off unceremoniously.
"Shut the fuck up," John echoed harshly as he faced the blond girl with a raised index finger on his right.
"Excuse me!" The girl, who was usually stoic, retorted in exasperation.
"Yes. Shut up. Did you know how much of my precious time you just wasted? More than half of a fucking hour, that is! I could've been doing something more fruitful, but your eyes wandered somewhere it shouldn't! This is why I fucking hate women!" John said slowly, irritation bubbling in his voice.
"So it's my fucking fault! I'm the one being assaulted!" The blonde girl angrily stated. How dare this man speak to her that way? This isn't how you speak to a woman!
"Yes, it's your fucking fault! Because you're a goddamn cockroach! I should be lying low right now!" The golden-haired supe yelled.
The blonde girl took a deep breath. She calmed down, as can be seen in her green eyes. Her usual stoicism was back.
"I understand you're angry. It's my fault that I didn't thank you." Her attempt at being rational was found to be unfruitful as she was cut off again.
"I don't give a fuck about your gratitude! You should be groveling in front of me! You should be kneeling right now, thanking your fucking God that I am here to save you! You should be licking my boot!" John exploded in an irrational way. He didn't know why, but he didn't like someone talking back to him and treating him like a child.
The eyes of the blonde woman widened. "You're a shameless man! Are you mentally challenged?" Because right now, the man in front of her is clearly unhinged. More than that, he mocked her faith! How dare he!?
"What the fuck did you just call me?" John asked once more. What the fuck did this cockroach call him?
"You're shameless, and you're mentally challenged!" The golden-haired woman repeated, this time with her cheeks a bit reddened. Clearly, she was putting in an effort.
"YOU FUCKING COCKROACH!" John hotly shouted. He was angry. A deity like him was insulted by a mortal. A mere ant dared to stand up against the mighty human boot. She does not know her place at all.
He actually thought to laser her. Then dump her body in a pit to serve as fertilizer. Perhaps he can just burn her entirely with a laser? He can certainly do it since he has perfect control of his laser temperature.
But he decided against it. Killing someone is not the equivalent of lying low.
"Forget it." Then John walked away. Clearly done with the debacle.
"Hold on! Wait! You didn't tell your fucking name!" The blonde beauty shouted after him.
John just ignored her. Fuck her. Fuck a cockroach like her. How dare she? What right does she have? Yet she irritates him. Fuck.
"Yeah, just run, you coward! You mentally ill bastard! Your face is maybe nice to the eye, but you're just an ugly coal inside!" The golden-haired beauty followed up with desperation and wrath.
John ignored her and kept walking. Before he lasers her out of impulse.
=TxHxL=
John opened his eyes once more. An awkward smile was on his face.
"Ah yes, I remember now. Does your daughter like to wear a pink jacket and have blonde hair?" John inquired to Pastor Nicholas.
The pastor smiled, "Indeed! Such a beauty she was! And already mature at her age. Sometimes I get fearful of just how stoic she was at times. I always tell her to just tell me and her mother if something is wrong. But she just tells us that there is nothing to worry about every time."
'Clearly, she was not that stoic.' John thought as he recalled the memory of her shouting at him.
"But John, although she said you saved her from those thugs, why does it seem like she does not have a good impression of you?" Pastor Nicholas asked in confusion as he continued to drive.
John awkwardly smiled. "Well, it seems like she and I got on the wrong footing. We had some... verbal altercations. Please tell her that I apologize."
The golden-haired Supe said the statement while gritting his teeth inside. How dare that girl make him apologize? Who the fuck does she think she is? But he kept his facial expression jolly. He has a reputation to keep, after all.
"Haha! I know, I know! When we're young, we could be overly brash. I'm just the same, John. Don't worry, I'll let her know that," the pastor said with a jolly tone as he drove and turned left.
John smiled once more and looked at the sight beside him. The surroundings were certainly... beautiful. The clean plains, the rocky slopes, the wide rural areas that he passed while riding on a truck... The American spirit is very alive in Bigville.
After a few more minutes, John arrived at the entrance of the school. He saw multitudes of students walking and interacting. Some are laughing at gossip; he knows because he can hear it with his inhumane hearing, while others are just fucking around.
John faced the pastor and thanked him. "Thank you, pastor. You know you don't have to do this every morning, right?" John said with gratitude.
"No worries, John. Besides, I like what I'm doing. The Good Lord requires his shepherd to look after his flock. Also, look at this as my gratitude for helping my daughter," Pastor Nicholas stated with a clear smile.
John said his goodbyes to the pastor as he opened the door. He waited until the truck departed before walking to the entrance of the school.
=TxHxL=
John walked into the corridors. Of course, it was filled with monkeys. Nerd monkeys, jock monkeys, pretty monkeys, social monkeys... All kinds of monkeys.
He looked at the lockers, and of course, he saw the usual altercations. A thin boy with glasses was being pushed into the locker. Usual bullying in high school
John picked up another conversation. On the door outside the room, at the next turn of the corridor.
"Have you seen the new merch of Doctor Splitter? Shit's rad, I tell ya," one voice, clearly male, stated.
"Dude, Doc Splitter? That's fucking lame. Lady Shadow is way better." Another male voice scoffed.
"Oh bullshit! You only liked her because of her big tits!"
"Shut up..."
John shook his head while contemplating. These bugs will really worship anything. Pathetic, really. But that's easier for John. People are really that gullible.
'I just fucking hope that Lala doesn't turn my entire household into some freakshow back home.' John thought as a headache threatened to emerge from his head. That pink-haired woman will be the end of him.
John continued to walk in the corridor. But what he found strange was that people were looking weirdly at him.
'The fuck?' John thought. Why are they looking at him?
Then whispers started to emerge.
"I heard he's the reason why Lou is in the hospital right now."
"Goddamn. Really? That guy is a former lineman."
"Shit, man. Did you see the arm of Lou? Shit's fucking nasty, I tell you."
"What's his name again?"
"You wouldn't believe it. His name is honest to fucking God—John Smith."
"You serious? Is... is that really his name? Who the fuck still uses a name like that?"
John heard everything through his superhearing. And frankly, he's pissed. He didn't realize that news in the Midwest is rather fast to spread. Also, who the fuck is that who made fun of his name? It's a true American name, for Christ's sake! And who the fuck spread the news anyway? Did the blonde whore do it?
John clicked his tongue in annoyance and kept walking. He turned right and stopped at the front of a room.
He looked at the room number and entered inside. Fuck the one who arranged his schedule, whoever they are. Who the fuck places a chemistry class this early in the morning? Only an inferior bug would
He opened the door and closed it. Before he entered, the room inside was noisy. Students were socializing since the professor was a bit later than usual. He's sure of it because he has superhearing.
When he entered, all of the commotion suddenly stopped. They looked at him. It's the first time he's gotten this much attention.
"Hey, he's here."
The whispers started.
"Who?"
"You know, the transferee? The one who just got here a month ago?"
"What's his name again?"
"John Smith."
"Pft! Seriously? That's his name?"
"Hey, don't laugh at him. Apparently, he broke Lou's arm."
"Lou?"
"Yeah, that Sophomore Lineman? Raven-haired, big guy?"
"Oh!"
"From what I've heard, Lou was harassing Reynolds again."
"Wait... Reynolds? You mean Amelia Reynolds? The blonde bombshell always-top-of-the-class Reynolds?"
"Yeah. Lou's already """pursuing"""" for three months already. But every time he does, she always rejects him. In fact, she's absolutely stone-cold in her methods for doing so. She rejected him last time in the football field with his mates watching."
"Hot damn. That's ruthless."
"Apparently, Mr. Smith here broke Lou's arm while """pursuing""" Reynolds again."
"Fuck me, I didn't know he had it in him—shit, he's looking this way."
John looked at the two boys having a conversation in a low voice and glared at them. He heard everything, of course.
He took his seat and placed his bag beside his chair.
He did not have any conversations with any of his classmates. He doesn't talk to bugs.
The loud noise of conversation in the classroom was soon cut off as the professor walked in.
"Good morning, class. I hope you studied the materials."
The class started, and John's mind dozed off. He does not have any interest in such inferior things.
=TxHxL=
"Thank you. That's it for today. I hope you're ready for the extensive quiz next meeting. The coverage was the lessons earlier. Have a nice day." The teacher wearing a spectacle said with a monotone voice and a smiling face before he exited. the room.
"Ah fuck..."
"This shit sucks."
"I have a cheerleading practice next Monday!"
The girls and boys echoed their frustration and disappointment.
But John paid it no mind. He got up and retrieved his bag. He immediately went out of the room. He didn't want to deal with monkeys trying to talk to him.
Then, as he walked out, he heard the PA speaker announce loudly in the corridor.
"William Butcher. I repeat, William Butcher, you are called to the principal's office." The speaker spoke methodically and mechanically despite being a real individual instead of a recording.
John stopped walking. Wait, William Butcher? Wasn't that the lad who got into many fights? If what he heard was right, then he didn't start most of it.
John looked to the other side of the corridor and saw a young man wearing a black puffer jacket and black pants. His face was smooth and of Caucasian descent. Probably his English blood. His hair was smooth, along with that boyband haircut. His face would pull a lot of women if not for the fresh bruise present in his right cheek.
He looked sullen as he walked. The students were looking at him weirdly. He did not look in anyone's direction. His feet carried him at a normal pace.
"It looks like Ol' Billy got into a fight again."
"It's probably in his blood. One of my friends who was in the same neighborhood as him said that when Ol'Billy and his family immigrated there last year, it suddenly got loud every evening. Screaming and crying became prominent in their neighborhood. Domestic disputes probably..."
John heard the students whisper to each other. He scoffed. They should just mind their own businesses. Inferior monkeys should behave that way.
The blonde supe walked outside the school. His next class is still in the afternoon.
But his silent walking was interrupted when someone called out to him, "Hey..."
John ignored the feminine voice that echoed out. It's not his business. He does not know her.
"I said, Hey! Don't you have any proper manners?" The voice said rather coldly and a bit louder. The owner of the voice pulled the shoulder of the blond supe.
"Ok. What the fuck is your problem? Isn't it enough that you ruined my silent life!" John roared at her.
"What? I didn't speak sh*t!" The golden-haired beauty, the one Amelia Reynolds, wearing a pink jacket, replied in confusion.
"Oh yeah!? Then why THE FUCK did my fellow freshmen know about how your precious boyfriend's arm was fucking broken by me?" With his calm threatening to break, perhaps broken already, John hotly asked.
"He's not my boyfriend! But... How? I didn't say anything." The blonde woman, Amelia, put her index finger under her chin and began to think.
"Whatever," John said before continuing his walk. He should get away before he kills her out of frustration.
"Wait!" The woman stopped him before he got away.
"What!?" John harshly asked. He has no time for this.
"Let me treat you to a meal," the woman weakly stated.
"Huh?" John was stupefied.
"You haven't eaten yet, right? Just accept it already!" Amelia screamed while her eyes were closed.
"Hold on. What?" John asked once more. He can't comprehend this woman. She's as frustrating as Lala. But in a different way.
"This is my gratitude! Do not refuse! The Good Lord does not like people who refuse grace!" Amelia shyly screamed out. At the current moment, if other men have seen her, they will only say one thing: cute.
John looked at me again with tired eyes.
"Women," he whispered under his breath.
"What!" Amelia asked.
"Nothing," John weakly replied.
"So, do you accept or not!" Amelia asked once more.
"Fine. Let's go," John replied. Accepting her offer.
"Well, let's go." Amelia smiled before returning to her usual cold countenance.
"Wait, where are we going to eat?" John inquired.
"Huh? McDonalds, of course."
"Of course." John rolled his eyes.
"Don't complain! It's my treat anyway," the golden-haired woman retorted.
John did nothing but puff his cheeks. He doesn't want to deal with it right now, but he has to.
The two blondes walked their way to the fast-food chain just right up the corner from Bigville High School.
=TxHxL=
"Here's your order, sir." The waitress smiled at John and his companion, Amelia, at the counter.
"Thank you," Amelia replied in a cold tone. God, is this how she interacts normally?
John smiled at the disoriented waitress and carried their order to their own table.
They were seated at an available table. But before they began their meal, Amelia stopped John.
"Stop. Say your grace to the Lord first," she sternly said.
"Ah! Seriously!?" John reeled back in annoyance.
"Yes. Seriously." Amelia said with a stern and strict tone.
"Ok!" John gritted with annoyance, then made the sign of the cross.
"Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for the meal that you've given us today. And thank you because you have graced the world with me. Thank you because you sent me to save these wretched inferior beings! Thank you for letting me save Little Amelia! AMEN!" John prayed with a sarcastic tone. It was borderline blasphemy.
"Amen," Amelia respectfully stated with gritted teeth. This man has no manners. His face may be good to look at, but his attitude is down to the bricks.
But Amelia was not yet finished. "I know we started with a rough start. But let's introduce ourselves first. I'm Amelia Reynolds. Sophomore."
John clicked his tongue. He does not have time for this, "John Smith, freshman."
"Wait, is that really your name?" Amelia asked. The name was so common and stereotypical that it bordered on ridiculousness.
"Of course it is! Now let's fucking eat." John spat harshly as he began to use his fork.
Amelia clicked her tongue in annoyance.
Then they started to eat their meal together.
Afterwards, after both of them consumed their food, Amelia suddenly spoke.
"Once again, I thank you for saving me, although you didn't need to." Amelia spoke with sincerity and annoyance.
"Whatever." John accepted it nonchalantly as he looked out the window. Clearly, he does not give a fuck. He's here for the free meal.
Both were silent. Amelia is about to go away; her mission is finished. But John broke the silence, his face still looking at the window. His expression is calm, along with his silent stare.
"Hey, Lia, do you really believe in God?" John asked her absentmindedly.
"What? Also, don't call me in such a way!" Amelia said in confusion.
"I said, do you believe in God?" John asked her once more.
Amelia sat back down and relaxed. She looked at the window beside her and replied, "Yes, I do believe in Him."
"Why? Is it because your father forced it into you? Is it because you're scared? Is it because you don't know anything after death? Or is it because you're a weak trash that can't find strength on her own?" John said the last question with a condescending sneer.
Amelia didn't even want to ask how he knew her father, who was a pastor.
She calmly answered, "Because this world—"
She looked at the child playing on the side of the road with a balloon, along with his parents. Both are smiling happily.
"—is so beautiful," she stated with a smile on her face. A pure smile
John looked at that smile. He was flabbergasted. It was the same damn smile he saw on that pink-haired alien.
A smile full of purity and innocence. A sincere smile.
John found himself speechless. That one sentence was enough to shut him up. He didn't expect that answer. She didn't use any theological or logical arguments. If she did, he would merely demolish it and gloat at her.
But her answer... It was so short yet so...
"Beautiful..." John uttered mindlessly. That's the only way he can describe her. From her goddess looks and her pure smile up to her answer
For the first time in his life. John found more than two people that he deemed not inferior.
"W-what?" Amelia stuttered. She can't believe what she just heard. Heat rose to her face. Did this psychotic blasphemer call her beautiful? Isn't that bad news?
"Nothing! I said you're a retard!" John harshly said with a bit of red present in his cheeks.
He immediately rushed to go outside.
"That's not what you said! Wait!" The blushing goddess called out to John as he went out.
But she did not catch up. He had already disappeared.
=TxHxL=
John finished his afternoon classes. He did not rush. That's why, when he went home, it was already 7 in the evening.
He relaxed as he saw his acres of land glinted by the night sky full of stars.
Then he immediately realized, "Shit! Lala! Fuck! What did she do to my tractor and seed drills?"
He rushed, using his own speed—faster than sound or perhaps light itself—to rush to the door of his barn. He opened the lights and looked around.
"What the fuck did you do to my—" But when he looked inside, he found nothing strange. The familiar pink-haired alien was not there.
Then he looked at the tractor and seed drill on one side. He checked it out. It was fixed. The rust was removed. The machine was well oiled. The seed drills looked brand new. The tractor's paint was smooth. Clearly newly applied.
"Wow, I didn't expect that," John muttered out loud.
"But where the hell is she?" John asked as he looked around. He used his X-ray vision, but she was not inside the barn. He looked on one side and found something.
"There you are." His X-ray vision saw a beating heart and a familiar anatomy an acre away. To his own house on the roof, lying down while looking up.
He went back to his own house. He flew to the roof and found Lala lying down comfortably, looking at the stars.
Lala knew that he was there but still continued.
John looked at her but did not speak. Silence reigned on the roof.
"I didn't know Earth's stars were this beautiful," Lala echoed out with wonder in her eyes.
"Did you not have stars back on your planet?" John asked. Though he does not really care. Really.
"There are, but I did not take time to appreciate them. Unlike here."
"..." John did not reply.
"Hey John, do you think I should go back to Deviluke?" Lala asks with a rather serious tone.
The handsome, golden-haired teen looked at the stars. He laid down beside her.
"That's your own decision to make. If you are not an inferior ant, you do not need to ask such questions..." John replied as his eyes took on the bright twinkling of the stars in the sky.
"Huh? Why?" Lala asked with a cutesy and blank voice at the same time.
"Because... I did not ask whether I wanted to be free or not. I know that a being like me deserves to be free." John fiercely stated. His eyes narrowed. He remembered once more.
The sterile walls.
The projected images.
The white coats.
The bodies of his tutors.
The tapes of Soldier Boy that taught him how to be a man.
He remembered it all.
"Pft. Ahahahahahaha!" Lala weakly laughed.
But her laugh wasn't condescending. It was... pure. Just like she did the first time.
"What?" John asked, still engrossed in watching the stars.
"Nothing. You're right. It's my own decision to make." Lala said as she wiped a tear in her eye from laughing.
Then, Lala did something unexpected. She held the hand of the blonde supe beside her.
John stopped stargazing. His sight went hyperfocused on her soft hands intertwined with his fingers.
He can't speak. He can't blink. Something is happening inside him.
The touch of this woman, somehow, wasn't disgusting to him.
All he knows is that, at the moment, he does not want to let her soft grip go.
"Hey John, if it's my own free will... then I freely ask, can I live here for a while?" Lala asked, sincerity dripping in her voice. She was naked spiritually. She does not have any ulterior motives, like the women back at that damn tower.
All John found when he looked into her eyes was a young girl asking for something warm to rest on. Not to satisfy her physical need for shelter but to find a hearth where she can truly rest away from the happenings of the universe.
John was lost in her beautiful eyes. Heat rose to his cheeks.
"Do whatever you want!" he muttered.
Perhaps, at that moment, both of them understood something—that the two of them yearn for freedom like those of mundane beings.
"Thank you. After all, a household wife must dwell at the house of her beloved." Lala added with a cheery tone.
John froze. What the hell did he just hear?
"What?" He snapped his head back and asked with widened eyes.
"I decided! You will be my husband!" Lala immediately declared as she grabbed his arm.
John widened his eyes in horror. "No! Absolutely not! No! I'm a red-blooded American bachelor!"
"Mah, mah, don't sweat the small things!" Lala said as she tightened her grip while smiling.
"No!" John retorted rather comically.
Underneath the sky, lighted by stars, a pact was unceremoniously made.
=TxHxL=
In space, just above the Planet Earth, a large vessel can be seen floating.
"I see, so you can't handle her by yourselves." A deep voice from a silhouette echoed.
"We apologize, Commander." The two men, the Devilukeans that were sent to retrieve Lala just a day before, spoke with an apologetic tone.
"Fine. I'll do it myself." The deep voice continued. The silhouette walked into the window of the vessel, where the large marble of blue and green was visible. Earth looked large from the window of the space vessel.
The silhouette disappeared, and the man became visible.
The grayish hair of the man became visible. His blue eyes were disciplined and stern.
His armor was pure white, coupled with obsidian. It was sharp and almost demonic to look at. His cape billowed behind him, emphasizing his look as an aristocratic warrior.
On his right chest, medals can be seen.
The conquest of Planet Zarbo.
The pacification of the Atharius Prime.
The successful siege of the planet Akritos.
The pyrrhic victory in the Battle of Karatas System with the coalitions of System Republics and other hostile armies.
The subjugation of the infamous barbarian group "White Falcons" that were plaguing the borders of the Devilukean Empire.
The medal of Violet Spade—a medal given only to the most valiant of Devilukeans.
All of these medals and many more meticulously littered the man's right chestplate.
The man chosen by the Overlord of Deviluke himself.
The commander of the elite Devilukean Royal Guard.
The current holder of the title "Blood Blade"—the title reserved only for the greatest swordsman in the Devilukean Galactic Empire
Zastin the Brave.
=TxHxL=