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Summer Wars: A Live Report Rip Off
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Chapter 21: The Best Laid Plans
Musicus spent his first day in France scouting the area around his hotel. By the time night fell, he had memorized the position of every crack, pothole and divot in every street and sidewalk. It only took a few hours of careful study to time every traffic signal and how they impacted the flow of traffic. By 9:00 the next day he was situated on his perch atop the tallest building, gazing through binoculars at the crowd below. He didn’t quite know what he was looking for, but sitting up here was a sure way to find something. Noon rolled around and he was still up there. Damn it was hot! Was this what his adventure was going to be like?
Everything changed soon enough. Musicus spotted him as he turned onto the street from the west. His was a face that everyone knew. The image of Luolis, bloodied and bruised, being dragged away following his fateful duel with Durn had been broadcasted on every news channel and site in the world. And if someone had been living under a rock for years, the giant battle axe resting on the Finn’s shoulders would have given him away from a kilometer away. Musicus knew confronting a legend like him was dangerous, but danger was something he would have to grow accustomed to if he were going to claim the crown. He cast the binoculars aside and started down the stairs. It only took a minute for him to get to the street. He didn’t need wonder which way to go. He could still make out the glint of steel in the afternoon sun. He hurried after it, fingers wrapped around the handle of the pistol stuffed in his pocket.
Musicus ducked into the alley on his right, picking up speed as he burst into the kitchen of a bakery. Shouts of surprise sprang up as he upended a tray of croissants, but he kept running. He emerged into another alley, then into another store. He had calculated the timing to perfection. If he kept this pace he would reach the corner at the exact moment Luolis did. All he needed to do then was pull the trigger.
He drew his weapon as the exit to the tailor loomed. Killing Durn would make him famous and powerful, but killing Luolis would make him feared. Images of him standing above both bodies flashed through his head as he shoved the door open and raised the gun.
Speaking of his head, it was no longer attached to his body. The flash of steel and a wide grin was the last thing he saw as Luolis’ axe ended Musicus’ life.
Chapter 22: It’s Not a Movie, Damnit!
You know that moment in all the boxing movies where the good guy and the bad guy are both too tired to actually box? All they can manage is trading haymakers, bashing each other half to death in slow motion while blood and spittle fill the air. It’s far from the height of filmmaking, but it sure it captivating. Well, Arty was living that at the moment.
The street did somersaults as Poopi’s latest blow hit him right below his right eye. RTK responded with an uppercut that sent his opponent staggering.
This was far from captivating. He couldn’t even consider it compelling. He’d mused about what it would be like to get in a fight his whole life, but it was always a more glamorous scene that this. You know with the dynamic setting, the dramatic context. No, no. One moment he was having a pleasant enough conversation with a quirky guy who introduced himself as Poopi. Before he knew it, fists were flying. Now here he was in the middle of the street engaged in a brutish slugfest with hundreds of people looking on.
Maybe there was something to this… He lost his train of thought as everything went black and his knees buckled. The glare of the sun and city returned as he hauled his arm up and cocked it back. For Christ’s sake, it felt like he was lifting an aircraft carrier, but he managed to get the unresponsive limb over his shoulder. A roar parted his lips as his fist descended. Whatever dull awareness had been in them was instantly snuffed out as his knuckles made contact with Poopi’s skull. Poopi dropped to the street like a sack of bricks, leaving Arctic standing above him. Artyk tried to catch his breath, shutting his eyes as he wiped the blood and sweat from his forehead.
This was nothing like the movies. When someone died in the movies, you knew the actor just jumped back up and went along with their day. This Poopi fellow looked like he was genuinely dead. That wouldn’t happen in a proper film, that’s for sure. The police were going to be here soon. He could already hear the sirens. A grim expression on his face, RTK started down the street.
Chapter 23: Didn’t you know what you were getting into?
“Hey, wait!” Ej shouted, waving his improvised flail above his head. “Where are you going?” The stranger, whose arms were moving faster than a rabid hamster on his wheel, didn’t even look back. He rounded the corner, disappearing from sight, never once displaying the decency to respond. A slump of Ej’s shoulders said it all. Maybe he should have stayed in Poland after all.
It only took a moment to unhook the rubber band balls. They rolled past him and downhill, pinging as they bounded away. Turns out sticking nails in anything makes it a ferocious weapon.
His opponent, a commando of some foreign military by the look of him, had been spoiling for a fight. You could pick out a person like that from a mile away. There was something in their eyes, cold and hot at the same time. Ej had been planning on spending his first night in France drinking shitty beer and eating fancy cheese, but he was never one to pass up an opportunity to scrap. It took him a moment to fashion the weapon from a stick he had found in the local park, the entire packet of dental floss he had brought for the trip and the rubber band balls and nails he really had no purpose for and wasn’t even sure he had packed in the first place.
The man’s cigar fell from his mouth as Ej charged screaming bloody murder. The look of murderous intent instantly vanished as the his would be opponent turned tail and ran. Ej had come to a stop an exasperated look on his face. He traveled to France because he was looking to test himself against the best. At this rate he wasn’t even going to get the chance.
Chapter 24: This is what I was talking about!
Cricketer never actually made it to France. Turns out Paris, France and Paris, Texas aren’t the same thing. Heartland spent the day grumbling to himself about how there was nothing to do.
Writer: Mizenhauer
Editor: The Spirit of Tzuyu, Durn
Graphics: Hexhaven
