Anime & Manga One Piece Spoilers - The Wailing Room
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Beast = Berserker Part One
Well, here we go. The first part of my Furry fiction, very vaguely inspired by @Mr. Reloaded 's trial. If you want to continue to read this, let me know, and I'll make a tag list.
Any characters present DO NOT represent real people, and any references to real people are approved by the people themselves. This isn't fiction based on the trial, it's fiction that was inspired by how weird the trial was.
Content warnings for violence, cannibalism, a bit of sexy stuff (nothing erotic, but a lot of suggestive stuff), drugs I imagined, some existential dread... oh, and furry stuff. Lots of furry stuff. Probably some other stuff, too.
I'll talk more about my inspirations as things go on, keep in mind things might change a lot. This is a series the audience will have some say in, as it goes on.
I hope you enjoy it!
Well, here we go. The first part of my Furry fiction, very vaguely inspired by @Mr. Reloaded 's trial. If you want to continue to read this, let me know, and I'll make a tag list.
Any characters present DO NOT represent real people, and any references to real people are approved by the people themselves. This isn't fiction based on the trial, it's fiction that was inspired by how weird the trial was.
Content warnings for violence, cannibalism, a bit of sexy stuff (nothing erotic, but a lot of suggestive stuff), drugs I imagined, some existential dread... oh, and furry stuff. Lots of furry stuff. Probably some other stuff, too.
I'll talk more about my inspirations as things go on, keep in mind things might change a lot. This is a series the audience will have some say in, as it goes on.
I hope you enjoy it!
Beast = Berserker
History Lesson #1: The Berserker
Through history, there have always been tales of humans, who could commune with nature, and wear the forms of beasts to run fierce through the fields and woods in the dark of night, their furs and scales shining in the moonlight.
History would call them myths. Those with greater knowledge know then as “Berserkers”… those whose DNA in unstable, and alters when the human Soul desires a certain… hunger.
Could be lust for pinker flesh. Could be greed for golden coin. Could be raw, primal desire to rip meat off of bone.
The 300 Spartans. The Defenders of Stalingrad. The Kamikaze Typhoons that sank the Mongol fleets invading Japan.
When a Berserker finds themselves in a life-defining situation, where the Butterfly Effect can send them to nirvana, or hell… something triggers inside them, and their DNA begins to change.
Berserkers generally obtain one animal transformation, and some even gain the ability to control natural forces of nature along with this. However, certain… industries have begun pushing that boundary.
A few million or so timelines ago, an ancient alien device was stolen from… a certain man in a certain place, by the rogue Berserker, Cracked Phoenix. This device, the Menagerie, is at the center of an intergalactic war. And guess where it fucking ended up?
God, I hate my job.
Death #2019
You are lying in blood. You do not care whose blood it is anymore. No, that’s not right. That’s probably just posturing. Who are you? Man, or beast?
Are you even going to answer?
A man drops another cigarette butt onto your scarred back, and stomps it into your shirt under you, searing the cotton into your skin. Chemical reaction. What once occurred can not always be undone. You are grateful for the gesture.
The Reloaded Man speaks. His suit is one hundred neon signs engaged in an unreadable menagerie, but the light does not shine; it’s being sucked under the weight of that man’s machinations like ants sliding down the drain. You have the sincere feeling that this man takes as much as he can, and only gives to those who value the weight of light as much as he does.
“Nature… Nurture… the primal urge to sink your teeth into flesh, tear it off of bone… To take the bone God gave to Adam… heh… and place it in Eve, to make life.” His words are thick like oatmeal drowned in honey, but without any sweetness.
“Have we shortchanged ourselves, a bit? Yeah, you, yuh miserable, programmed lump of nurture, who could have easily been a beast. If we can create just by fucking… why aren’t we Gods?” He bites off his right index finger, lights it on fire with another, takes a hit, then shoots it into the horizon.
A quick snap, and the finger is back. This time, it’s a tentacle, and it begins to choke him as he cracks his neck. His voice smells like a waterfall of vodka.
“Gods don’t need to be good. They need to be powerful. To be able to create, and destroy. Men like Genghis Khan seared their DNA into the human race through conquest. Isn’t he more of a God, than some fairy tale that old men crafted to control their children?” He winks at you, even though you can’t see his eyes (then why are you looking at him, dummy?), and sticks out his shaved leg, which could be sculpted straight out of Greece.
The taxi driving past is full of hookers with cat ears. The fact that you don’t realize they are actually just as much cat as they are woman is probably a problem we’ll have to deal with later.
“You know, I don’t think God was some ‘Big Bang’ (-he flashes jazz hands-)… what a crass name for a scientific concept, honestly…” The Reloaded Man vigorously humps something that can only exist in his own mind while standing on top of your back, and, as such, you are glad you cannot see what he is humping. His black loafers are VERY polished.
“No, and, God wasn’t some man with a beard drowning delusional peasants for shits n giggles. No. ‘God’ was the first cell. Infinite potential. One drop of water… that could spread and sate an entire desert… Isn’t that wonderful? Isn’t that so much better than what the Greeks, and Jews, and Aztecs came up with? No offense to any of those people, I mean, every… species? Is that offensive to say, due to the arrogance of humanity, making them think they’re no longer animals? Every… “tribe” has their flaws. Look at me. I’M EVERYTHING-”
The world becomes blacker than cotton balls and whiter than a black hole as the sunglasses he wasn’t wearing shatter off his face like glaciers crashing into skyscrapers.
“And I can be the best of the best, and the worst of the worst. Don’t worry, I’m not racist. I’d love a Bar Mitzvah, right about now. Come on, you cat-fucking freak. Get off the ground, and carry me around on a chair. DID I STUTTER?!? Ugh, the hiring market is horrible, how are you the best employee I could find? Hah. Like I hired you. It’s like rolling into a ghost town to fill up your gas tank, and the only guy there has no limbs, and rolls around like a tumbleweed, biting up lizards.”
The sound of him dragging his hand down his face is like a god scraping his fingers through the sands of the Sahara, uncovering tomb after tomb.
You fart in The Reloaded Man’s general direction as he pulls a towel out of his mouth, and whips your ass with it.
“Every time… you become a little less human… you know that, right? But… isn’t that good for you?” His words have the funny habit of turning into your sins when he gets like this.
“You never wanted to be human to begin with, you sick fuck. Try not to eat her this time, dumbass. Do I look like I’m made out of money? I’M THE ROARING 20S THE NIGHT BEFORE THE GREAT DEPRESSION, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”
You start to nod, he definitely has a point there. Your performance has been more tragic than the state of the Locketmon gaming franchise.
“Okay, let’s get ya back in there, champ,” The Reloaded Man, your employer, who would never lie to you, but is even less likely to tell the truth, says as you sit in the boxing ring corner.
As he massages your shoulders, and towels you off, you feel his abs shoot out sweat that blasts through your lungs like flaming bullets, and you fall face first and don’t wake back up, until everything important drips away like drying white paint coating drying white paint.
The Reloaded Man punches out his neon tube lighting until he’s lying in a pile of shattered glass, makes a reservation to get some sushi, then clicks his tongue.
“Years of safe investments, and this furry freak is the fucker I have to bet my life on. Who am I, Hellen Keller at a horse race? Oh, no, that was offensive, a lot of my past selves didn’t like that one. Need to rewrite the script again. This time, I hope he just fucks. Fucking is so much better than eating. Ugh.”
A PC dings as it receives a notification; it’s time for The Reloaded Man’s Manga spoilers, so let’s start the main story. Thank you for waiting, you did a good job. No animals were harmed in the making of this menagerie.
Chapter 1: Primal Urges
“Shawn… Shawn… she’s gonna decapitate you, bro, wake up!” words of wisdom flow into my ears. Before I could come to understand them, the Intro to Advanced Geology textbook was crashing down into my head like I was a heathen being stoned to death.
“BLAGHHHH! I’ll bite you, bit- oh, Ms. Kraken,” I shout, then sputter as I look up to find my 30-year-old, witch of a science teacher staring down at me in pity, her sharp black bangs dangling like knives in front of her blue eyes.
Her perfect hair bun, its glossy black locks shining in the school’s fluorescent tube lights, looked like it might begin to shoot out toxic miasma, like some kind of alien mushroom. Accentuating this hairstyle was a prim, but tight black dress suit, with a plain white dress shirt, and a crinkled black skirt that cut off just above the knees. Her face was kind when it was relaxed, but harsh and slanted when not.
“I know you’re capable of great things, Shawn, but, you need to apply yourself. You realize your father is the one calling me out of concern, correct? What filth were you dreaming of, this time?” Cynthia Kraken snaps words out from her prim mouth like the cracks of a whip, while tapping her long, black nails on my desk.
“…Huh… neon-tube-lighting suit?” I mutter, scratching my head, before wincing. Samantha Mulligan, the blonde violinist sitting to the right of my window seat, bursts out laughing before she can even mentally process the stupidity that came out of my mouth, and the rest of the class joins in as Samantha blushes more than I do.
I actually feel bad as Cynthia Kraken stares back at me as if I’m an abyss she will never escape from. After a moment, she sighs, cracks her fingers like sparkplugs as they tighten and snap into claws, then orders, “After school. Give me at least ten minutes. Please, Shawn. You can’t keep living your life like this.”
I roll my amber eyes and look out the window, wishing she had worded that differently.
“T-Teach. He has a soul, and I think you’re breaking it,” Samantha mutters, pulling her long, wavy, honey colored hair in front of her face. The Kraken is caught off guard by such a cute request, and nods at Samantha, who relaxes.
“…Heh… just, make sure you show up, Shawn. I WILL come to your house, if you don’t,” the Kraken reared its rage once more, her blue eyes dissecting me like massive tentacles cutting through a seaside town’s bakeries and stables and clock towers. With another sigh, and a nod and pat on Samantha’s shoulder, Ms. Kraken turns and saunters back to her black desk in front of the white board.
“Just… spend the next ten minutes in free period. I need to take an aspirin, and drink some soda,” she states as she sinks into her gray desk chair on swiveling wheels, and spins over to her Jell computer off to the right of her desk.
“Hey, Ms. Kraken, my Dad wanted the recipe to your homebrew soda! Anyway you can give it to me? I’ll try harder on the next quiz, I swear,” Bucky Stenson, a short young man with an incredibly handsome, proportional face, and bushy short ginger hair, asked his teacher.
“…Get all your homework done next week, and then we’ll talk, Bucky,” Ms. Kraken replied, winking at him with a flat face, before flashing a small smile, then turning to grade online tests as Bucky groans with two thumbs down.
I flex my hands above my head, cracking my knuckles, then turn to my partner in crime, Jordi Minks, one of my two best friends, and the weirdest doofus I have ever had the pleasure of coming across.
Before I introduce that wide-eyed-weirdo, I guess I’ll introduce myself, first. I’m Shawn Beasley, and, I, uh… like animals. Listen, I wouldn’t fuck an animal, but, do I wish girls had cat ears and tails? Yes. Yes I do. Go ahead, judge me, I’m used to it.
Thankfully, somehow, I live in an age where people walking around in fursuits is… kind of normal, and, so, by acting somewhat normally, and being a generally kind, likeable goofball, I’ve survived high school.
The looks help: when I reached middle school, I stared into the mirror, and realized I had a protagonist face: not like, a cool protagonist, mind you. Just some kid out of a mediocre action anime, or something. I LOVED IT. My looks, which only stand out to due to how bland they are, gave me the ability to survive having weird-ass fetishes.
Anyway, the sole standout feature I possess is silver hair, because I hate my blonde hair, and really dig the color silver. Seeing light reflect off of metal fascinates me, I love staring at luxury cars in lots, and stuff like that. Thankfully, a lot of kids in my school like hair dye, so all I suffer is a few harmless “dude, you look like an old man!” jokes.
My hair is short, but, I have pretty long bangs (so I can hide my eyes and sleep in class). Amber brown eyes were probably my nicest point, with my nose being a little tilted, and my smile being crooked as well.
A red cotton, half-zipped hoodie, which read “Dogs = Cats > People”, covered a white t-shirt with a roaring polar bear face. My pants were simple blue jeans, but altered to have more pockets than usual.
This was to hide my collection of “Beast Berserker” Trading Cards. Yes, yes. I know: “I’m in high school, what am I doing with my life, blah blah blah,” well, listen here, alright!?! There are plenty of grown adults in their 30s opening Locketmonster, and Jiggly-mon cards in MeTube videos, so, what’s wrong with me taking out my prized “Purring Furserker: Ero Cat Queen” card, and licking its (anti-micro-bacterial) plastic case while I stared at the amazing, golden, furry tits? Well? That’s right, this is my monologue, you can’t interrupted me, even if you want to. EAT IT!
As I cross my legs, fold my arms behind my back, and kick my white, black-spotted Leopard-brand sneakers onto the window sill, Jordi shakes his head, his short, gnarled brunette dreads bouncing as he glares at me in amazement.
“Someday, she’s going to bite your head off, dude. And not in the way you’re into,” Jordi Minks mutters, drawing a cross on his chest with his long fingers.
Shuriken shaped potato chips suddenly slash the back of our necks, stabbing salty goodness into our delicate teenage skin. Jordi starts headbanging involuntarily and falls out of his chair, while I flinch, then glare back at my lesbian crush: Alexia Mars.
Despite the “lesbian” part, Alexia greatly enjoyed flirting with me, and was more than a little physically affectionate, since I was both her childhood friend, and pretty trustworthy. Going after chicks is such a hassle, so I just… don’t?
The easiest way to tell you’re actually ready to be in a relationship, is when others are naturally interested in you. Middle school was a mess due to me making animal noises and wearing clothing with way too much fur on it, but, in high school, I’ve been known as a “safe” guy, ever since accidentally foiling a locker room panty raid in Freshmen year.
Despite having two or three really nice girls ask me out, I had to tell them the painful truth: I can’t get over this lesbian wonder woman at all, and it would be rude of me to date another woman while still completely hung up on Alexia.
Wild green eyes too big for her face were hidden under a mass of curly, pinkish red hair. However, that was only in the front, as the rest of her puffy, curly, shoulder length hair was a dark brown (her father had begged her to only dye a bit of it). Her complexion was like milk chocolate, her skin both slim and thick. I could only imagine how good it felt, to bite into her marshmallows.
Alexia’s father was part Irish, but, the only part of her body that had noticed were her aftermentioned green eyes, and the nearly invisibly freckles plastered across the nose below them.
A thick white tank-top with ruffled fabric, covered in a neon blue leather jacket, dragged your eyes to the line of sleek cleavage. While her legs were mostly hidden by the desk, she was wearing black skinny jeans (which she always complained were too tight, despite never dieting, nor bothering to buy smaller sizes), and red clogs.
I relished her clogs. I had a better nose than most, and enjoyed closing my eyes in the middle of class, to smell her feet. Sadly, she knows me too well.
“…Are you trying to smell my feet again? Forever alone, Beasley, sheesh. Don’t go sniffin’ chicks in gym class, or I’ll have to actually beat you up, kay?” Alexia states, flexing her arm, and giving me a funny, puffed out face.
“Oh, step on me, lesbian sex goddess,” I reply while bowing rapidly, making Alexia cackle, throw her head back, and wave her hand at me. Even before my feelings turned romantic, we would banter with each other constantly.
“You guys need to get a room,” Jordi mutters, shaking his head. “My Dad never believes me when I say you’re not dating. Alexia, do you really hate dick that much? I thin- GAH!”
Jordi is rightfully silenced by a shuriken potato chip slicing into his throat. The fool falls out of his desk once more, his feet towards the front of the class. For insulting Alexia, I drop my backpack on his stomach, making him moan in a way that makes he feel slightly uncomfortable.
“Nah, dick’s the cutest part about boys. It’s just, girls are so much cuter, in general, you know? You two try to tell me that a ballsack is better to squeeze that two plump boobs,” Alexia replies, taking a bite out of a chip while smirking. “Sorry, Beasley. If only you had some nice, big ole titties. What a shame.”
“Body modification is coming to us soon: I’m fine getting boobs, as long as I can get cat ears and a cat tail, too, my fine lady,” I reply, holding my hands out in front of my chest, then expanding them as if I was growing great booba.
“Ugh, we really are horny high school students,” Jordi mutters, shaking his head as he lays on the ground and stares up at the tube lighting.
“Oh, careful, that light’s about to fall on you,” I mutter, shaking my head as I stare out the window. After a moment, I blink and wince. The hell? Why did I say that?
“…Okay, oh Great Beasley, the mystic seer of the future. Didn’t ask you to read my fortune, buddy,” Jordi replies, concerned. Then, he looks up at Alexia, who looks down at him with a slight amount of intrigue, blowing her hair out of her face while scratching her secretly freckled nose.
“Sorry, if I was gross, Lexy. I know I need to give up playing matchmaker. I just spent so much time trying to get you two together, and, then, you just stumbled out of the closet. Are you mad at me? I’ll buy you whatever your want at Patty Party, later.” Jordi has a joking manner, but, I can tell he does feel guilty.
“Nah, if I didn’t have any interest in Shawn, I wouldn’t tease him. You know that. We’ve decided that… whatever this is…” Alexia’s voice dips, her eyes growing dim as well. The light re-enters them quickly, and she continues, “We both are fine with it. I’ve never even rejected Shawn… it’s just… you know how some food, looks really good at first, but tastes horrible to you when you eat it?”
“Ooof. I taste bad? Damn, I don’t even know when she ate me,” I muttered to Jordi, who smacks his legs and arms, covered in a boring blue tracksuit with white stripes on its sides, in the sides of desk legs, while laughing on the ground.
“Shut up, you morons. I wasn’t finished,” Alexia mutters, dumping 20 or so chips on Jordi’s face, which he begins to chew at, before glaring at me.
“And, some foods looks unappealing, but tastes great. Beasley is like some weird foreign dish my grandma wants me to try. Delicious, but… I don’t know if I want to watch it go into my mouth.”
“Yoooooooo you horny girl, that’s wild,” Jordi mutters in disbelief. Alexi stares at him in confusion, before blushing heavily, leaving her seat, and whacking at his chest with her geology textbook.
As Jordi cackled, Alexia hisses, “Y-You know that’s now what I meant! Do you know how many times I’ve played truth or dare with this idiot, while camping, and at parties! I’ve seen his dick so many damn times, it’s… it’s just a dick! It’s his face, okay! Kissing guys is weird! The facial hair, and the… WILL YOU TWO GOONS SHUT UP ALREADY!”
At this point, I am wheezing out of control, can no longer see due to my tears, and have my legs curled up in my arms while rocking myself back and forth on my chair, and poor Jordi is flopping around on the ground like a dying fish (if dying fishes squealed like high chihuahuas).
Alexia’s lip quivers for the briefest moment, before she tucks her face into her arm, and begins roaring with laughter. Thankfully, Alexia and I both posses strong enough “can’t be bothered to give a fuck” energy, that our friendship has survived our relationship… uh… quarry. If anything, we’ve grown closer.
While she’s a little rough around the edges, and maybe too blunt, Alexia hates playing with people’s feelings.
“I’m a lesbian… but I feel romantic urges towards you. Then I regret them. And then I get angry, because, I don’t know what I really want, and it’s not fair to you. Are you really okay with that? Just… waiting in romantic-purgatory, until my dumbass figures out my sexuality, Shawn?”
I couldn’t blame her for feeling that way, when wept those words out: we’re teenagers. I don’t’ know what I want with my life, either. All I knew, was that I wanted to always be a part of Alexia’s life. I’d seen from my Mom, how stupid it is to throw away love, because you cared more about romance.
What would my family had been like… if my Mom was like Alexia, and could have just told me to my face, that she didn’t love my Dad anymore. I guess that’s why I respected Alexia from the bottom of my heart: even if she rejected me, she would never abandon me. We’d promised each other that if one of us ever got in an abusive relationship, we’d beat the shit out of the abuser.
I wouldn’t be like my Mom, after Dad got injured. Even if it hurt me to see Alexia love someone else, I would be there for her. Hell, I’m still best friends with Jordi, and Jordi is a fucking idiot, who I have NO interest in fucking.
“If only we had been raised in some Catholic commune; Shawn wouldn’t want to fuck animal girls, and Alexia wouldn’t even know what scissoring is. We should return to God,” Jordin ordained, his Chihuahua eyes widening as he raised his hands in prayer.
“God cast you down for a reason, and he didn’t send a ‘return by this date’ slip with you, now did he? Also, what the hell is a ‘Catholic commune?’ Do you know what a ‘commune’ is, Jordi?” Alexia roasted the moron on the floor while giggling.
Playing off her pal, the bushy haired girl raised her hands to the sky, and prayed, “Oh, Lord, please smite this unholy sinner for lowering my grades, by making me crack up in the middle of math class.”
“I’m sorry for looking up so many dirty videos, Jesus. Oh, and stealing the whole package of, like, 20 Girl Scout Cookies boxes for myself, when they came in the mail when my parents weren’t home,” Jordi repented, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Ohhhh my goshhhh, you are going to hell, dude. That’s messed up. Fuckin’ Satan. Is that what the Girl Scouts stand for? The Deadly Sin of Gluttony?” Alexia rags on him as I continued to laugh my ass off, pounding at the window.
I blink, realizing the light is about to fall. “Damn it Jordi, I warned you, again. Move, next time,” I state, before twisting my body around, and catching a tube light, just as it falls down from above. Its end stops an inch before crashing into his nose.
“…B-Bro… the hell?” Jordi squeaks, as I get up, leap onto his desk, then reattach the tube light without thinking.
“…Huh… I knew that was going to happen. Weird,” I mutter while standing in his seat, clenching my fingers open and shut several times. It’s strange. In this moment, my body doesn’t feel entirely like my own. Alexia gives me a look of clear discomfort.
“Shawn just loosened the tube light, and set you up. Jeez, Shawn. I thought you got over your prank streak in middle school?” Alexia whispers, then gulps as I give her a blank stare back.
“Oh… yeah! Hahaha… I really got you guys! Sorry… dumb prank, didn’t think it would… fall on Jordi’s face…” I whisper, before leaping back onto my own seat. Ms. Kraken had missed the tube light incident, but this caused her to snap back, and hiss at me.
Jordi starts batting his eyes like a chick high on cocaine trying to flirt with a celebrity, and grasps at his seat to pull himself up. “D-Dude, I can tell when you’re lying. Why are you lying about that? Are you feeling okay?”
“Nah, man… my head hurts… just… meh…” I seethe, sinking into my seat, and smacking my knuckles against it.
“Hey… keep it together, the… party…” Alexia whispers the most important part, “is tonight. You okay, Beast? Need some… pfff… CPR. Jordi would do whatever it took, to save your life.”
“Ohhhh I don’t want Shawn to be my first kiss! I mean… I could do way worse, but maaan… Ugh… how to saaave a life…” Jordi complains, covering his small face.
“Heh, you two are…” I begin, before widening my eyes as an image flashes in my mind. It’s Alexia’s head, but it’s not connected to her body.
Alexia’s severed head is rolling down a dimly lit street on a hill, the leaves getting stuck in her hair as it bumps into the curb, its blood beginning to pour down an upcoming drain.
“BLAAAAAGHHHH!” I twist my head, and projectile vomit all over a classroom window, wincing as some of it splatters back onto me. Jordi stared on in terror, his beady eyes looking like they were about to pop out at any moment.
“Yoooo broooo you’re scaring me today, what’s going on? Did the lunch ladies shit in the gumbo? Yooo, I knew I couldn’t trust those crusty, angry women to-” Jordi was silenced by Alexia shoving her bag of chips in his face.
“…Hey, come on, let’s get you cleaned up, and to the nurses office,” Alexia said as she pulled off her jacket, throwing it onto Jordi as if he was a coat rack.
“…Talk to me when you come back to class, Alexia,” Ms. Kraken, pale at the sight of my staggering ass, whispered from her computer.
I stare at the gray vinyl flooring of Celtic High School, choking back vomit as I’m borderline dragged by Alexia. I can’t even tell her what I’m thinking. How I’m glad her head is attached to her neck. How I love the comforting warmth of her blood under her skin, as she cradles me. There’s no pleasure, just relief. The fact that she’s alive beside me, fills me with so much relief, that I can’t help but cry.
“I’m so glad you’re a part of my life…” I force out in a sob, needing to say something, anything to let Alexia know how much I love her. Somehow, I hope those words can keep her head on her neck.
“…You aren’t dying, moron, don’t start giving some kind of farewell speech… you’re even making my skin crawl… The hell, Shawn, you were fine like, a minute ago! Is… your stomach okay?” Alexia muttered, and I shiver.
“No. That’s not why I puked. I… hallucinated something,” I whisper, gritting my teeth as she elbows my side, sensing I’m hiding something. No point lying to this one, huh? “I had a vision of your decapitated head rolling down a sloped street.”
For a second, she stops moving, genuinely shocked. “…Oh. Must have been… really vivid. Sorry. I’m sorry you had to see that. I… don’t worry, Shawn. I’m not going anywhere, kay?” Alexia whispers into my ear, before pressing her lips against my cheek.
“Y-Y-Yeah, I know that, Lexy. Thanks. Y-You don’t have to kiss my cheek… it’s dirty…” I mutter, blushing hard as I feel her breath press against me. It feels like it weighs over a ton.
“I’ve eaten your cooking, your puke probably tastes better,” my childhood friend, who I met an an arcade when we were 12, assures me. Then, hugging me against her, she giggles while licking a bit of puke off my cheek. “BLARG, that’s awful.”
I roll my eyes and lean into the wall as Alexia spits it out while snickering, her adorable laugh contrasting her gross behavior beautifully.
“All right, here we are, the boy’s bathroom. Never wanted to go in there, but, it’s not like I’m scared of it, or anything. You guys don’t do any rituals in here, right?” Alexia tries to cheer me up as she drags me through a doorway.
It’s a true testament to how fucked up I am, that I don’t realized everything wrong with that statement until I see a dude from the basketball team whizzing into a urinal.
“Whoooa, heeey, this ain’t the ladies room! Oh, damn, Beasley is coated in vomit! Glad I didn’t eat that gumbo, shit!” Marquis Francois, the shortest player on the basketball team (but by far their best shooter), noted as he shook his dick off.
“Ya’ll good? I can clean Beasley up for ya, and take him to the nurse, if you wanna get outta here,” Marquis asks, sauntering up after tugging up his red athletic shorts over his plain white t-shirt, sensing Alexia’s distress. My Dad was the assistant basketball coach, so I was pretty close with a lot of the players.
Marquis helped me with math, I helped him with English, and we played Johnny Rings, the XXX-Ball First Person Shooter video game, a lot together. He was a boss with the sniper, while I was a camping bitch who liked to get close range power weapons and get kills around corners.
“…Thanks a lot, Marquis, but, honestly, I’m worried about him. He was saying some… weird crap before he fainted. Even for him. I don’t want to let him out of my sight,” Alexia replied with a quivering voice, squeezing my side.
“…Shit, uh, I’ll go tell Ms. Sweeney, the secretary, to call his Dad,” Marquis muttered, scratching his head and looking at the door. “Maybe he has some medical condition we don’t know about? Yo, here, take my shirt to clean him up, it’s my fresh change after gym class. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine without it, I’ve been working out, as you can probably tell.”
After whipping off his shirt and tossing it to Alexia, Marquis flexed his ripped six pack, then sprinted out the door.
“...Well, I wasn’t looking forward to using the school’s shitty, flimsy paper towel, so, you know what? Good on Marquis. Uh, good off him. Anyway, let’s clean you up, sweetheart… uh… Shawn…” Alexia, getting more flustered, states, dragging me over to a stall, and seating me onto its toilet.
The sink faucet runs, but, all I can imagine is flowing blood. So much blood.
“Oh, finally. You’re actually waking up. Your poor, tiny brain has had a REALLY hard time catching up with the current proceedings. Hopefully, we can reach some new checkpoint. I HATE resurrection stories like this, with stupid protagonists like you, with little-to-no survival sense.”
“…S-Stop talking… my brain… it’s like it’s exploding…” I whisper as I crash my palms against the stalls to the sides of me, trying to keep myself from falling off.
“…S-Shawn? Oh, fuck, Shawn, I’m here!” Alexia screams, dashing over to me with Marquis’s wet t-shirt. At the last moment, I remember something. I remember Alexia slipping, and smacking her head into the stall.
Just as her foot leaves the ground, I flop forward like a fish trying to stop a presidential assassination. With no grace, my head smacks straight into Alexia’s stomach, stopping her momentum, and letting her grab onto the stall. That’s the last thing I see; Alexia’s voice keeps me barely conscious for a few moments, and then, darkness.
“You’re adjusting well, this time. I’m proud of you. Most would have given up. It’s good, to see that some youth still have some backbone. Unlike my damn son…” a familiar voice sifts down through the darkness, but it doesn’t rouse me from my slumber.
History Lesson #1: The Berserker
Through history, there have always been tales of humans, who could commune with nature, and wear the forms of beasts to run fierce through the fields and woods in the dark of night, their furs and scales shining in the moonlight.
History would call them myths. Those with greater knowledge know then as “Berserkers”… those whose DNA in unstable, and alters when the human Soul desires a certain… hunger.
Could be lust for pinker flesh. Could be greed for golden coin. Could be raw, primal desire to rip meat off of bone.
The 300 Spartans. The Defenders of Stalingrad. The Kamikaze Typhoons that sank the Mongol fleets invading Japan.
When a Berserker finds themselves in a life-defining situation, where the Butterfly Effect can send them to nirvana, or hell… something triggers inside them, and their DNA begins to change.
Berserkers generally obtain one animal transformation, and some even gain the ability to control natural forces of nature along with this. However, certain… industries have begun pushing that boundary.
A few million or so timelines ago, an ancient alien device was stolen from… a certain man in a certain place, by the rogue Berserker, Cracked Phoenix. This device, the Menagerie, is at the center of an intergalactic war. And guess where it fucking ended up?
God, I hate my job.
Death #2019
You are lying in blood. You do not care whose blood it is anymore. No, that’s not right. That’s probably just posturing. Who are you? Man, or beast?
Are you even going to answer?
A man drops another cigarette butt onto your scarred back, and stomps it into your shirt under you, searing the cotton into your skin. Chemical reaction. What once occurred can not always be undone. You are grateful for the gesture.
The Reloaded Man speaks. His suit is one hundred neon signs engaged in an unreadable menagerie, but the light does not shine; it’s being sucked under the weight of that man’s machinations like ants sliding down the drain. You have the sincere feeling that this man takes as much as he can, and only gives to those who value the weight of light as much as he does.
“Nature… Nurture… the primal urge to sink your teeth into flesh, tear it off of bone… To take the bone God gave to Adam… heh… and place it in Eve, to make life.” His words are thick like oatmeal drowned in honey, but without any sweetness.
“Have we shortchanged ourselves, a bit? Yeah, you, yuh miserable, programmed lump of nurture, who could have easily been a beast. If we can create just by fucking… why aren’t we Gods?” He bites off his right index finger, lights it on fire with another, takes a hit, then shoots it into the horizon.
A quick snap, and the finger is back. This time, it’s a tentacle, and it begins to choke him as he cracks his neck. His voice smells like a waterfall of vodka.
“Gods don’t need to be good. They need to be powerful. To be able to create, and destroy. Men like Genghis Khan seared their DNA into the human race through conquest. Isn’t he more of a God, than some fairy tale that old men crafted to control their children?” He winks at you, even though you can’t see his eyes (then why are you looking at him, dummy?), and sticks out his shaved leg, which could be sculpted straight out of Greece.
The taxi driving past is full of hookers with cat ears. The fact that you don’t realize they are actually just as much cat as they are woman is probably a problem we’ll have to deal with later.
“You know, I don’t think God was some ‘Big Bang’ (-he flashes jazz hands-)… what a crass name for a scientific concept, honestly…” The Reloaded Man vigorously humps something that can only exist in his own mind while standing on top of your back, and, as such, you are glad you cannot see what he is humping. His black loafers are VERY polished.
“No, and, God wasn’t some man with a beard drowning delusional peasants for shits n giggles. No. ‘God’ was the first cell. Infinite potential. One drop of water… that could spread and sate an entire desert… Isn’t that wonderful? Isn’t that so much better than what the Greeks, and Jews, and Aztecs came up with? No offense to any of those people, I mean, every… species? Is that offensive to say, due to the arrogance of humanity, making them think they’re no longer animals? Every… “tribe” has their flaws. Look at me. I’M EVERYTHING-”
The world becomes blacker than cotton balls and whiter than a black hole as the sunglasses he wasn’t wearing shatter off his face like glaciers crashing into skyscrapers.
“And I can be the best of the best, and the worst of the worst. Don’t worry, I’m not racist. I’d love a Bar Mitzvah, right about now. Come on, you cat-fucking freak. Get off the ground, and carry me around on a chair. DID I STUTTER?!? Ugh, the hiring market is horrible, how are you the best employee I could find? Hah. Like I hired you. It’s like rolling into a ghost town to fill up your gas tank, and the only guy there has no limbs, and rolls around like a tumbleweed, biting up lizards.”
The sound of him dragging his hand down his face is like a god scraping his fingers through the sands of the Sahara, uncovering tomb after tomb.
You fart in The Reloaded Man’s general direction as he pulls a towel out of his mouth, and whips your ass with it.
“Every time… you become a little less human… you know that, right? But… isn’t that good for you?” His words have the funny habit of turning into your sins when he gets like this.
“You never wanted to be human to begin with, you sick fuck. Try not to eat her this time, dumbass. Do I look like I’m made out of money? I’M THE ROARING 20S THE NIGHT BEFORE THE GREAT DEPRESSION, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”
You start to nod, he definitely has a point there. Your performance has been more tragic than the state of the Locketmon gaming franchise.
“Okay, let’s get ya back in there, champ,” The Reloaded Man, your employer, who would never lie to you, but is even less likely to tell the truth, says as you sit in the boxing ring corner.
As he massages your shoulders, and towels you off, you feel his abs shoot out sweat that blasts through your lungs like flaming bullets, and you fall face first and don’t wake back up, until everything important drips away like drying white paint coating drying white paint.
The Reloaded Man punches out his neon tube lighting until he’s lying in a pile of shattered glass, makes a reservation to get some sushi, then clicks his tongue.
“Years of safe investments, and this furry freak is the fucker I have to bet my life on. Who am I, Hellen Keller at a horse race? Oh, no, that was offensive, a lot of my past selves didn’t like that one. Need to rewrite the script again. This time, I hope he just fucks. Fucking is so much better than eating. Ugh.”
A PC dings as it receives a notification; it’s time for The Reloaded Man’s Manga spoilers, so let’s start the main story. Thank you for waiting, you did a good job. No animals were harmed in the making of this menagerie.
Chapter 1: Primal Urges
“Shawn… Shawn… she’s gonna decapitate you, bro, wake up!” words of wisdom flow into my ears. Before I could come to understand them, the Intro to Advanced Geology textbook was crashing down into my head like I was a heathen being stoned to death.
“BLAGHHHH! I’ll bite you, bit- oh, Ms. Kraken,” I shout, then sputter as I look up to find my 30-year-old, witch of a science teacher staring down at me in pity, her sharp black bangs dangling like knives in front of her blue eyes.
Her perfect hair bun, its glossy black locks shining in the school’s fluorescent tube lights, looked like it might begin to shoot out toxic miasma, like some kind of alien mushroom. Accentuating this hairstyle was a prim, but tight black dress suit, with a plain white dress shirt, and a crinkled black skirt that cut off just above the knees. Her face was kind when it was relaxed, but harsh and slanted when not.
“I know you’re capable of great things, Shawn, but, you need to apply yourself. You realize your father is the one calling me out of concern, correct? What filth were you dreaming of, this time?” Cynthia Kraken snaps words out from her prim mouth like the cracks of a whip, while tapping her long, black nails on my desk.
“…Huh… neon-tube-lighting suit?” I mutter, scratching my head, before wincing. Samantha Mulligan, the blonde violinist sitting to the right of my window seat, bursts out laughing before she can even mentally process the stupidity that came out of my mouth, and the rest of the class joins in as Samantha blushes more than I do.
I actually feel bad as Cynthia Kraken stares back at me as if I’m an abyss she will never escape from. After a moment, she sighs, cracks her fingers like sparkplugs as they tighten and snap into claws, then orders, “After school. Give me at least ten minutes. Please, Shawn. You can’t keep living your life like this.”
I roll my amber eyes and look out the window, wishing she had worded that differently.
“T-Teach. He has a soul, and I think you’re breaking it,” Samantha mutters, pulling her long, wavy, honey colored hair in front of her face. The Kraken is caught off guard by such a cute request, and nods at Samantha, who relaxes.
“…Heh… just, make sure you show up, Shawn. I WILL come to your house, if you don’t,” the Kraken reared its rage once more, her blue eyes dissecting me like massive tentacles cutting through a seaside town’s bakeries and stables and clock towers. With another sigh, and a nod and pat on Samantha’s shoulder, Ms. Kraken turns and saunters back to her black desk in front of the white board.
“Just… spend the next ten minutes in free period. I need to take an aspirin, and drink some soda,” she states as she sinks into her gray desk chair on swiveling wheels, and spins over to her Jell computer off to the right of her desk.
“Hey, Ms. Kraken, my Dad wanted the recipe to your homebrew soda! Anyway you can give it to me? I’ll try harder on the next quiz, I swear,” Bucky Stenson, a short young man with an incredibly handsome, proportional face, and bushy short ginger hair, asked his teacher.
“…Get all your homework done next week, and then we’ll talk, Bucky,” Ms. Kraken replied, winking at him with a flat face, before flashing a small smile, then turning to grade online tests as Bucky groans with two thumbs down.
I flex my hands above my head, cracking my knuckles, then turn to my partner in crime, Jordi Minks, one of my two best friends, and the weirdest doofus I have ever had the pleasure of coming across.
Before I introduce that wide-eyed-weirdo, I guess I’ll introduce myself, first. I’m Shawn Beasley, and, I, uh… like animals. Listen, I wouldn’t fuck an animal, but, do I wish girls had cat ears and tails? Yes. Yes I do. Go ahead, judge me, I’m used to it.
Thankfully, somehow, I live in an age where people walking around in fursuits is… kind of normal, and, so, by acting somewhat normally, and being a generally kind, likeable goofball, I’ve survived high school.
The looks help: when I reached middle school, I stared into the mirror, and realized I had a protagonist face: not like, a cool protagonist, mind you. Just some kid out of a mediocre action anime, or something. I LOVED IT. My looks, which only stand out to due to how bland they are, gave me the ability to survive having weird-ass fetishes.
Anyway, the sole standout feature I possess is silver hair, because I hate my blonde hair, and really dig the color silver. Seeing light reflect off of metal fascinates me, I love staring at luxury cars in lots, and stuff like that. Thankfully, a lot of kids in my school like hair dye, so all I suffer is a few harmless “dude, you look like an old man!” jokes.
My hair is short, but, I have pretty long bangs (so I can hide my eyes and sleep in class). Amber brown eyes were probably my nicest point, with my nose being a little tilted, and my smile being crooked as well.
A red cotton, half-zipped hoodie, which read “Dogs = Cats > People”, covered a white t-shirt with a roaring polar bear face. My pants were simple blue jeans, but altered to have more pockets than usual.
This was to hide my collection of “Beast Berserker” Trading Cards. Yes, yes. I know: “I’m in high school, what am I doing with my life, blah blah blah,” well, listen here, alright!?! There are plenty of grown adults in their 30s opening Locketmonster, and Jiggly-mon cards in MeTube videos, so, what’s wrong with me taking out my prized “Purring Furserker: Ero Cat Queen” card, and licking its (anti-micro-bacterial) plastic case while I stared at the amazing, golden, furry tits? Well? That’s right, this is my monologue, you can’t interrupted me, even if you want to. EAT IT!
As I cross my legs, fold my arms behind my back, and kick my white, black-spotted Leopard-brand sneakers onto the window sill, Jordi shakes his head, his short, gnarled brunette dreads bouncing as he glares at me in amazement.
“Someday, she’s going to bite your head off, dude. And not in the way you’re into,” Jordi Minks mutters, drawing a cross on his chest with his long fingers.
Shuriken shaped potato chips suddenly slash the back of our necks, stabbing salty goodness into our delicate teenage skin. Jordi starts headbanging involuntarily and falls out of his chair, while I flinch, then glare back at my lesbian crush: Alexia Mars.
Despite the “lesbian” part, Alexia greatly enjoyed flirting with me, and was more than a little physically affectionate, since I was both her childhood friend, and pretty trustworthy. Going after chicks is such a hassle, so I just… don’t?
The easiest way to tell you’re actually ready to be in a relationship, is when others are naturally interested in you. Middle school was a mess due to me making animal noises and wearing clothing with way too much fur on it, but, in high school, I’ve been known as a “safe” guy, ever since accidentally foiling a locker room panty raid in Freshmen year.
Despite having two or three really nice girls ask me out, I had to tell them the painful truth: I can’t get over this lesbian wonder woman at all, and it would be rude of me to date another woman while still completely hung up on Alexia.
Wild green eyes too big for her face were hidden under a mass of curly, pinkish red hair. However, that was only in the front, as the rest of her puffy, curly, shoulder length hair was a dark brown (her father had begged her to only dye a bit of it). Her complexion was like milk chocolate, her skin both slim and thick. I could only imagine how good it felt, to bite into her marshmallows.
Alexia’s father was part Irish, but, the only part of her body that had noticed were her aftermentioned green eyes, and the nearly invisibly freckles plastered across the nose below them.
A thick white tank-top with ruffled fabric, covered in a neon blue leather jacket, dragged your eyes to the line of sleek cleavage. While her legs were mostly hidden by the desk, she was wearing black skinny jeans (which she always complained were too tight, despite never dieting, nor bothering to buy smaller sizes), and red clogs.
I relished her clogs. I had a better nose than most, and enjoyed closing my eyes in the middle of class, to smell her feet. Sadly, she knows me too well.
“…Are you trying to smell my feet again? Forever alone, Beasley, sheesh. Don’t go sniffin’ chicks in gym class, or I’ll have to actually beat you up, kay?” Alexia states, flexing her arm, and giving me a funny, puffed out face.
“Oh, step on me, lesbian sex goddess,” I reply while bowing rapidly, making Alexia cackle, throw her head back, and wave her hand at me. Even before my feelings turned romantic, we would banter with each other constantly.
“You guys need to get a room,” Jordi mutters, shaking his head. “My Dad never believes me when I say you’re not dating. Alexia, do you really hate dick that much? I thin- GAH!”
Jordi is rightfully silenced by a shuriken potato chip slicing into his throat. The fool falls out of his desk once more, his feet towards the front of the class. For insulting Alexia, I drop my backpack on his stomach, making him moan in a way that makes he feel slightly uncomfortable.
“Nah, dick’s the cutest part about boys. It’s just, girls are so much cuter, in general, you know? You two try to tell me that a ballsack is better to squeeze that two plump boobs,” Alexia replies, taking a bite out of a chip while smirking. “Sorry, Beasley. If only you had some nice, big ole titties. What a shame.”
“Body modification is coming to us soon: I’m fine getting boobs, as long as I can get cat ears and a cat tail, too, my fine lady,” I reply, holding my hands out in front of my chest, then expanding them as if I was growing great booba.
“Ugh, we really are horny high school students,” Jordi mutters, shaking his head as he lays on the ground and stares up at the tube lighting.
“Oh, careful, that light’s about to fall on you,” I mutter, shaking my head as I stare out the window. After a moment, I blink and wince. The hell? Why did I say that?
“…Okay, oh Great Beasley, the mystic seer of the future. Didn’t ask you to read my fortune, buddy,” Jordi replies, concerned. Then, he looks up at Alexia, who looks down at him with a slight amount of intrigue, blowing her hair out of her face while scratching her secretly freckled nose.
“Sorry, if I was gross, Lexy. I know I need to give up playing matchmaker. I just spent so much time trying to get you two together, and, then, you just stumbled out of the closet. Are you mad at me? I’ll buy you whatever your want at Patty Party, later.” Jordi has a joking manner, but, I can tell he does feel guilty.
“Nah, if I didn’t have any interest in Shawn, I wouldn’t tease him. You know that. We’ve decided that… whatever this is…” Alexia’s voice dips, her eyes growing dim as well. The light re-enters them quickly, and she continues, “We both are fine with it. I’ve never even rejected Shawn… it’s just… you know how some food, looks really good at first, but tastes horrible to you when you eat it?”
“Ooof. I taste bad? Damn, I don’t even know when she ate me,” I muttered to Jordi, who smacks his legs and arms, covered in a boring blue tracksuit with white stripes on its sides, in the sides of desk legs, while laughing on the ground.
“Shut up, you morons. I wasn’t finished,” Alexia mutters, dumping 20 or so chips on Jordi’s face, which he begins to chew at, before glaring at me.
“And, some foods looks unappealing, but tastes great. Beasley is like some weird foreign dish my grandma wants me to try. Delicious, but… I don’t know if I want to watch it go into my mouth.”
“Yoooooooo you horny girl, that’s wild,” Jordi mutters in disbelief. Alexi stares at him in confusion, before blushing heavily, leaving her seat, and whacking at his chest with her geology textbook.
As Jordi cackled, Alexia hisses, “Y-You know that’s now what I meant! Do you know how many times I’ve played truth or dare with this idiot, while camping, and at parties! I’ve seen his dick so many damn times, it’s… it’s just a dick! It’s his face, okay! Kissing guys is weird! The facial hair, and the… WILL YOU TWO GOONS SHUT UP ALREADY!”
At this point, I am wheezing out of control, can no longer see due to my tears, and have my legs curled up in my arms while rocking myself back and forth on my chair, and poor Jordi is flopping around on the ground like a dying fish (if dying fishes squealed like high chihuahuas).
Alexia’s lip quivers for the briefest moment, before she tucks her face into her arm, and begins roaring with laughter. Thankfully, Alexia and I both posses strong enough “can’t be bothered to give a fuck” energy, that our friendship has survived our relationship… uh… quarry. If anything, we’ve grown closer.
While she’s a little rough around the edges, and maybe too blunt, Alexia hates playing with people’s feelings.
“I’m a lesbian… but I feel romantic urges towards you. Then I regret them. And then I get angry, because, I don’t know what I really want, and it’s not fair to you. Are you really okay with that? Just… waiting in romantic-purgatory, until my dumbass figures out my sexuality, Shawn?”
I couldn’t blame her for feeling that way, when wept those words out: we’re teenagers. I don’t’ know what I want with my life, either. All I knew, was that I wanted to always be a part of Alexia’s life. I’d seen from my Mom, how stupid it is to throw away love, because you cared more about romance.
What would my family had been like… if my Mom was like Alexia, and could have just told me to my face, that she didn’t love my Dad anymore. I guess that’s why I respected Alexia from the bottom of my heart: even if she rejected me, she would never abandon me. We’d promised each other that if one of us ever got in an abusive relationship, we’d beat the shit out of the abuser.
I wouldn’t be like my Mom, after Dad got injured. Even if it hurt me to see Alexia love someone else, I would be there for her. Hell, I’m still best friends with Jordi, and Jordi is a fucking idiot, who I have NO interest in fucking.
“If only we had been raised in some Catholic commune; Shawn wouldn’t want to fuck animal girls, and Alexia wouldn’t even know what scissoring is. We should return to God,” Jordin ordained, his Chihuahua eyes widening as he raised his hands in prayer.
“God cast you down for a reason, and he didn’t send a ‘return by this date’ slip with you, now did he? Also, what the hell is a ‘Catholic commune?’ Do you know what a ‘commune’ is, Jordi?” Alexia roasted the moron on the floor while giggling.
Playing off her pal, the bushy haired girl raised her hands to the sky, and prayed, “Oh, Lord, please smite this unholy sinner for lowering my grades, by making me crack up in the middle of math class.”
“I’m sorry for looking up so many dirty videos, Jesus. Oh, and stealing the whole package of, like, 20 Girl Scout Cookies boxes for myself, when they came in the mail when my parents weren’t home,” Jordi repented, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Ohhhh my goshhhh, you are going to hell, dude. That’s messed up. Fuckin’ Satan. Is that what the Girl Scouts stand for? The Deadly Sin of Gluttony?” Alexia rags on him as I continued to laugh my ass off, pounding at the window.
I blink, realizing the light is about to fall. “Damn it Jordi, I warned you, again. Move, next time,” I state, before twisting my body around, and catching a tube light, just as it falls down from above. Its end stops an inch before crashing into his nose.
“…B-Bro… the hell?” Jordi squeaks, as I get up, leap onto his desk, then reattach the tube light without thinking.
“…Huh… I knew that was going to happen. Weird,” I mutter while standing in his seat, clenching my fingers open and shut several times. It’s strange. In this moment, my body doesn’t feel entirely like my own. Alexia gives me a look of clear discomfort.
“Shawn just loosened the tube light, and set you up. Jeez, Shawn. I thought you got over your prank streak in middle school?” Alexia whispers, then gulps as I give her a blank stare back.
“Oh… yeah! Hahaha… I really got you guys! Sorry… dumb prank, didn’t think it would… fall on Jordi’s face…” I whisper, before leaping back onto my own seat. Ms. Kraken had missed the tube light incident, but this caused her to snap back, and hiss at me.
Jordi starts batting his eyes like a chick high on cocaine trying to flirt with a celebrity, and grasps at his seat to pull himself up. “D-Dude, I can tell when you’re lying. Why are you lying about that? Are you feeling okay?”
“Nah, man… my head hurts… just… meh…” I seethe, sinking into my seat, and smacking my knuckles against it.
“Hey… keep it together, the… party…” Alexia whispers the most important part, “is tonight. You okay, Beast? Need some… pfff… CPR. Jordi would do whatever it took, to save your life.”
“Ohhhh I don’t want Shawn to be my first kiss! I mean… I could do way worse, but maaan… Ugh… how to saaave a life…” Jordi complains, covering his small face.
“Heh, you two are…” I begin, before widening my eyes as an image flashes in my mind. It’s Alexia’s head, but it’s not connected to her body.
Alexia’s severed head is rolling down a dimly lit street on a hill, the leaves getting stuck in her hair as it bumps into the curb, its blood beginning to pour down an upcoming drain.
“BLAAAAAGHHHH!” I twist my head, and projectile vomit all over a classroom window, wincing as some of it splatters back onto me. Jordi stared on in terror, his beady eyes looking like they were about to pop out at any moment.
“Yoooo broooo you’re scaring me today, what’s going on? Did the lunch ladies shit in the gumbo? Yooo, I knew I couldn’t trust those crusty, angry women to-” Jordi was silenced by Alexia shoving her bag of chips in his face.
“…Hey, come on, let’s get you cleaned up, and to the nurses office,” Alexia said as she pulled off her jacket, throwing it onto Jordi as if he was a coat rack.
“…Talk to me when you come back to class, Alexia,” Ms. Kraken, pale at the sight of my staggering ass, whispered from her computer.
I stare at the gray vinyl flooring of Celtic High School, choking back vomit as I’m borderline dragged by Alexia. I can’t even tell her what I’m thinking. How I’m glad her head is attached to her neck. How I love the comforting warmth of her blood under her skin, as she cradles me. There’s no pleasure, just relief. The fact that she’s alive beside me, fills me with so much relief, that I can’t help but cry.
“I’m so glad you’re a part of my life…” I force out in a sob, needing to say something, anything to let Alexia know how much I love her. Somehow, I hope those words can keep her head on her neck.
“…You aren’t dying, moron, don’t start giving some kind of farewell speech… you’re even making my skin crawl… The hell, Shawn, you were fine like, a minute ago! Is… your stomach okay?” Alexia muttered, and I shiver.
“No. That’s not why I puked. I… hallucinated something,” I whisper, gritting my teeth as she elbows my side, sensing I’m hiding something. No point lying to this one, huh? “I had a vision of your decapitated head rolling down a sloped street.”
For a second, she stops moving, genuinely shocked. “…Oh. Must have been… really vivid. Sorry. I’m sorry you had to see that. I… don’t worry, Shawn. I’m not going anywhere, kay?” Alexia whispers into my ear, before pressing her lips against my cheek.
“Y-Y-Yeah, I know that, Lexy. Thanks. Y-You don’t have to kiss my cheek… it’s dirty…” I mutter, blushing hard as I feel her breath press against me. It feels like it weighs over a ton.
“I’ve eaten your cooking, your puke probably tastes better,” my childhood friend, who I met an an arcade when we were 12, assures me. Then, hugging me against her, she giggles while licking a bit of puke off my cheek. “BLARG, that’s awful.”
I roll my eyes and lean into the wall as Alexia spits it out while snickering, her adorable laugh contrasting her gross behavior beautifully.
“All right, here we are, the boy’s bathroom. Never wanted to go in there, but, it’s not like I’m scared of it, or anything. You guys don’t do any rituals in here, right?” Alexia tries to cheer me up as she drags me through a doorway.
It’s a true testament to how fucked up I am, that I don’t realized everything wrong with that statement until I see a dude from the basketball team whizzing into a urinal.
“Whoooa, heeey, this ain’t the ladies room! Oh, damn, Beasley is coated in vomit! Glad I didn’t eat that gumbo, shit!” Marquis Francois, the shortest player on the basketball team (but by far their best shooter), noted as he shook his dick off.
“Ya’ll good? I can clean Beasley up for ya, and take him to the nurse, if you wanna get outta here,” Marquis asks, sauntering up after tugging up his red athletic shorts over his plain white t-shirt, sensing Alexia’s distress. My Dad was the assistant basketball coach, so I was pretty close with a lot of the players.
Marquis helped me with math, I helped him with English, and we played Johnny Rings, the XXX-Ball First Person Shooter video game, a lot together. He was a boss with the sniper, while I was a camping bitch who liked to get close range power weapons and get kills around corners.
“…Thanks a lot, Marquis, but, honestly, I’m worried about him. He was saying some… weird crap before he fainted. Even for him. I don’t want to let him out of my sight,” Alexia replied with a quivering voice, squeezing my side.
“…Shit, uh, I’ll go tell Ms. Sweeney, the secretary, to call his Dad,” Marquis muttered, scratching his head and looking at the door. “Maybe he has some medical condition we don’t know about? Yo, here, take my shirt to clean him up, it’s my fresh change after gym class. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine without it, I’ve been working out, as you can probably tell.”
After whipping off his shirt and tossing it to Alexia, Marquis flexed his ripped six pack, then sprinted out the door.
“...Well, I wasn’t looking forward to using the school’s shitty, flimsy paper towel, so, you know what? Good on Marquis. Uh, good off him. Anyway, let’s clean you up, sweetheart… uh… Shawn…” Alexia, getting more flustered, states, dragging me over to a stall, and seating me onto its toilet.
The sink faucet runs, but, all I can imagine is flowing blood. So much blood.
“Oh, finally. You’re actually waking up. Your poor, tiny brain has had a REALLY hard time catching up with the current proceedings. Hopefully, we can reach some new checkpoint. I HATE resurrection stories like this, with stupid protagonists like you, with little-to-no survival sense.”
“…S-Stop talking… my brain… it’s like it’s exploding…” I whisper as I crash my palms against the stalls to the sides of me, trying to keep myself from falling off.
“…S-Shawn? Oh, fuck, Shawn, I’m here!” Alexia screams, dashing over to me with Marquis’s wet t-shirt. At the last moment, I remember something. I remember Alexia slipping, and smacking her head into the stall.
Just as her foot leaves the ground, I flop forward like a fish trying to stop a presidential assassination. With no grace, my head smacks straight into Alexia’s stomach, stopping her momentum, and letting her grab onto the stall. That’s the last thing I see; Alexia’s voice keeps me barely conscious for a few moments, and then, darkness.
“You’re adjusting well, this time. I’m proud of you. Most would have given up. It’s good, to see that some youth still have some backbone. Unlike my damn son…” a familiar voice sifts down through the darkness, but it doesn’t rouse me from my slumber.
