399: Rain of White
“PLEASE!!! We’re all going to die anyway!!” some guy begged a hot chick on his knees out on the street while people ran back and forth in all directions, screaming, drinking, snorting drugs, looting, fighting, and fucking like it was their last day on this earth.
The hot chick looked to the skies for a moment, thinking, then said, “I probably should go visit my mother.”
She then sharply turned away from the pathetic being and walked off through the panicked streets, leaving the guy with a devasted look. That devastated expression on the guy’s face slowly morphed into anger, then entitlement fueled rage. He jumped up, screaming, foaming at the mouth and rushed after the woman of his fantasies with a look of a psycho killer rather than the kind and gentle lover that he envisioned himself to be.
His animalistic shrieks alerted the woman to his approach and she turned around just in time to see the back of a spear land across his foaming mouth, dislocating his jaw and sending several teeth flying.
“BLHUAWHAGAGHAHAHKLAJKDSAAAAA!!!” the foaming guy was sent tumbling off into a dark alley by the spear of a Purple Cape, leaving only a trail of teeth behind him.
“I am sooo over this,” the hot chick said, waiving off a ‘good riddance’ and went to her mother for a long-overdue quality time while more Purple Capes arrived on the streets like overslept antibodies late for the fight with a virus.
“My, my, look at them go,” Gamesh chuckled as he looked at what could only be described as hysteria.
“I see absolutely nothing about this,” captain Flavna said as she walked as fast as was permissible without breaking out into a full-on sprint to the nearby square, followed by a substantial group of soldiers.
Just then a giant glass window shattered right in front of Flavna with two beastkin, a foxkin and a deerkin, jumping out of it, each carrying a giant bag over their shoulders. One of the more keen-eyed, a foxkin, glanced to his side and saw who exactly he jumped in front of. As if he was in some movie, time slowed down for the foxkin.
His expression changed in slow motion from a ‘you only live once’ excitement to a ‘shit your pants’ terror as the last few hours flashed before his eyes and he wondered in how many different ways his life would have turned out if he had not decided to rob this particular store at this particular time.
Maybe if he hadn’t stopped for a ‘quickie’, or if he had turned it into more than a ‘quickie’ and done his part to satisfy his partner too rather than running off with the excuse of ‘who gives a fuck, it’s all over anyway’.
Maybe he could somehow convince the two captains of the Purple Capes and their entire entourage of some thirty plus soldiers that he was not robbing the store, but was actually chasing after the robber? And the bag of goodies over his shoulder wasn’t the literal evidence of his crime but the evidence of his good samaritanism! The deerkin was about to run off with two bags, but the foxkin already managed to take back one and was about to get back the other bag too.
Yes! The foxkin is the hero in this situation! He’s just holding on to the bag so that some other looters don’t show up and steal it while the store owner is unconscious with a giant lump on his head. The foxkin’s shitpants terror jaw-drop briefly started to transform into a half-assed grin while he was still midair, concocting a way to live through the next ten seconds of what was left of his life if he didn’t figure this out. Glancing fast to his partner in crime—No!—the dastardly villain who he was chasing after, the foxkin noticed that the deerkin was doing his best deer in the headlights impression upon also noticing the literal manifestation of a death squad.
Good! The foxkin thought. If he remains as slow and stupid as he has been all his life, I might—Ah, shit—
The swiftly approaching boot of captain Flavna’s tornado kick dashed all hopes of a good outcome for the foxkin, and the time-slowed, numbing blow across the face was followed by another rain of teeth that the pavement of this street was quickly getting used to this weird morning.