----------- Astrad's Point of View -----------
["Was it necessary to set the hotel on fire?"] —Carla complains as soon as I reach the rooftop.
["I don't think so. No."]
["Then why did you do it?"]
["For more pleasure."]
Technically, they had archers, but mostly, I just wanted to blow them up.
["Ummm."]
Yes, just like that. Your disdain feeds me, gyahahaha!
"Tap, tap."
["The door is locked,"] —Sophie said, trying to force the rooftop entrance.
["I have the key,"] —I reply as I pull the metal bar from the suitcase.
["Hey, let's just call."]
["What if they mistake us for enemies and attack?"]
The girls suggest as I raise the bar in front of the door.
["Technically, they're right, but I already took out the metal bar."]
The rat kid won't make cheap excuses.
["Excuse me, gaaaaaaaaa!"]
[[[[ASTRAD?]]]] ""GRII.""
As I try to break in politely, the door is suddenly opened, hitting me and sending me to the ground. Why the fuck does it open outwards?
But before I could even complain, a group of police officers rush out and pin me to the ground. The figure I came looking for was among them.
["Hey, what the fuck? Don't touch me, you filthy monkeys."]
Is this how they thank their savior? This me?
["Who the fuck are you calling a filthy monkey, you spoiled brat?"]
"Pop!"
The familiar voice enters my ears, but the blow that knocked me unconscious didn't give me time to worry about it.
["So, it really was you…"]
["This is why I… still don't have a new uncle…"]
With such a reunion, I lost consciousness.
...
["A different ceiling…"]
["Are you really going to start like that?"]
["The rat kid is trying to set the mood. You're not helping."]
I get out of bed with a damn headache as I complain about my aunt. I don't have my precious things on me.
["Hum?"]
["I took them. They're confiscated. Why did you have all that stuff?"]
If it's my aunt, it doesn't matter.
["Why wouldn't I have them?"]
["Always the same with you."]
["Ouch, ow, ow… What the hell? I feel like a gorilla hit me in the head."]
["Want another one?"]
Fear.
["The rat kid protests the unfair treatment. Even though I came like a handsome, reliable, sexy angel, son of Odin, disciple of Zeus…"]
["Yeah, cute, very cute. We'll talk about your punishment later. For now, let's go to the reception room. We need to talk to the others."]
The rat kid knew it would end like this. The rat kid suffers.
["…Milia?"]
["I left her at home."]
["Ahhh… Thank God."]
My aunt wipes away a tear that threatens to fall, but perhaps due to the general situation, she remains firm as she processes the good news.
["God my ass. It was the rat kid."]
["After all that, you want another one?"] —she said, raising her fist.
["I'll shut up, I'll shut up…"]
Why does that fucker God always get the rat kid's credit? I demand a trial for identity theft.
-------------- Flora's Point of View ----------
In the suffocating room, charged with an almost palpable tension, the silence seems saturated with gunpowder, awaiting the first spark.
[[[[[…]]]]]
["This… is this really okay?"] —Carla asks in a whisper.
Behind her, her companions also look at me nervously. They are all girls I already know, especially Carla and Sophie, since their father and grandfather are my colleagues.
However, the girls who normally bring a breath of fresh air to the busy office now remain silent, hidden behind the reception counter next to me.
["Isn't it obvious? With your grandfather here, if that moron mayor does anything, they'll use his bones as toothpicks,"] —I say with comforting words, but honestly, I don't quite believe them myself.
Still, what surprises me the most is the girls' response. Although on the surface they are still smiling like girls their age, there's a deeper glint in their eyes as they discreetly analyze the situation, adjusting their makeshift protective gear and bladed weapons.
(This is what happens when you're forced to survive… I wonder if my girl is like this too,) - I thought, half proud and half saddened by the girls who had lost a part of their youth. But at least, they're still alive.
["Wiston, this nonsense has gone on long enough."]
The unpleasant voice of Mayor Aníbal forces me out of my thoughts and back to reality. In front of us, the two sides stand firm against each other.
["For once, we agree,"] —Chief Wiston replied, as his hand moved closer to the pistol holster at his waist.
["W-Wiston, what are you planning?"] —Aníbal immediately tenses up and steps back, while his guards also move their hands towards their weapons.
Of course, my fellow police officers take similar positions. It goes without saying what will happen if both sides confront each other, but that doesn't change the fact that there could be unwanted casualties on our side. After all, even a stray shot can trigger a massacre.
["What do you think I'm doing? Lower your weapons. From now on, you will be treated as ordinary refugees. And you will hand over the armory codes. Now."]
Aníbal flinched at Wiston's murderous glare. Although he had had outbursts towards him before, this is the first time the chief has gotten serious, and this, of course, is enough to unsettle a pathetic politician like him.
He probably doesn't understand the root of this 180-degree change, but all of us are clear: with his granddaughter here, the chief is not willing to tolerate the slightest mistake.
["Wiston, stop this nonsense. This discussion doesn't even make sense. Isn't it obvious that we must kill those monsters? Besides, if we analyze them, it could help find a more efficient way to deal with them."]
Aníbal points over here. Of course, not at me or the girls; it's at the two small goblins being protected by Carla and the others. In principle, he's not wrong. We were all surprised and had the same idea when we first saw them. But after the girls' explanation, we decided to keep them under surveillance.
Everything was fine for a while as we caught up and took advantage of the provisions the girls had brought. But then this moron had to show up and cause trouble, as always.
["Huhuhu, now you care about efficiency?"] —at Wiston's dismissive response, Aníbal shut his mouth.
I couldn't help but laugh sarcastically. After all, why are we in this situation in the first place?
That damn governor and his group of bodyguards have done nothing but ignore the chief's suggestions so far, leading us to the current situation.
The suggestion to move to the safe zone and create a joint front was dismissed by him.
The horrible idea of securing an excessively large perimeter was also his doing. We couldn't secure enough provisions or barricades either because he forbade us from looting nearby shops and houses for useful materials.
And to top it all off, the most useful weapons are restricted because this moron won't give the authorization codes. From the beginning, he used his position to threaten us and take command.
An apocalyptic world where rank doesn't matter? That's only true if it's really impossible to repel the crisis. It's still too early to say it's impossible to return to what was.
And if you're not careful, you could run into serious trouble when civilization returns to its normal state. That said, your life will still be a priority. But for adults, it's not just our lives at stake.
["Yumi, you'd better move your ass,"] —I can't help but mutter facing the situation, which is one wrong move away from turning into a shootout.
Even if I intervene, I can't do much on my own. But my support is currently taking care of her nephew… let's ignore the part where she knocked him out herself.
["By the way, some moron broke your window and drank your beer."]
["You broke my window?"]
["Not me, some moron. I didn't see who."]
["Ahh, forget it. We'll talk at home."]
["But it wasn't me."]
["Yeah, sure."]
Finally, the voice I most needed to hear comes from the hallway to the side, apparently arguing with a male voice.
[[[[Astrad!]]]] ""Griaaa.""
I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the girls' murmur, and it was even more incredible to see that sparkle in their eyes.
["I guess… we came at a bad time…"] —finally, Yumi's voice breaks the silence in the room.
Beside her, a teenager with a face that screams: "None of you mean shit to me." On the surface, an average teenager.
But in practice, mobile bad news. Yumi's (self-proclaimed) nephew. A high school classmate of my daughter.
Astrad, a celebrity for all the wrong reasons. With a criminal record thicker than a phone book and, at the same time, the most popular recipient of gifts and thank-you letters.
Although he had calmed down considerably in the last year, he was for a long time the reason why Yumi was just as well-known at the neighboring town's headquarters as she was at ours.
After all, three out of seven days, she had to go over there to pick him up or solve some problem. Sometimes the problem was so big she had to take time off.
Although I started working here just over two years ago, and even with a year of relative calm, his name has managed to leave a strong impression on me.
And that same boy is now walking straight towards me, ignoring everyone in the room as if they were background noise.
["Looks like he woke up in a bad mood…"]
["When is he not in a bad mood?"]
["Anyway, don't interrupt him for now."]
The girls' secret conversation behind me doesn't inspire confidence. And Yumi, in the distance, with an apologetic gesture and a face that seems to scream "please, just bear with it for a bit," has already made me angry too.
"Ding-ding-ding!"
As if afraid of disappointing my expectations, the brat reached the counter and began to press the bell with annoying insistence, as if calling me, despite clearly being right in front of him, watching him.
["Service, service,"] —he said without stopping pressing the bell, his eyes flashing with morbid pleasure, but underneath, there was something else, a certain calculation.
I've seen it before. As a receptionist, forced to deal with countless people, I became sensitive to their hidden intentions. And this brat's intention became obvious when the tense atmosphere turned into stupor and intrigue.
This brat, hidden in apparently irrational actions, with just a few simple movements, had caught us all in his flow.
(Interesting,) - I thought as I sat down in the reception seat.
["I'm right in front of you. Are you blind or stupid?"]
["Is this how you attend to your customers?"]
["Do we look like a hotel? Sorry, this is the police station. Don't expect much from an underpaid public employee."]
Here, just like in my other jobs, they nickname me the Ice Queen.
It's because I don't let my emotions show. But I can't help but tease this boy in front of me. Partly to help his act and partly because it's interesting.
["The rat kid admits his mistake. But the rat kid is not here to listen to the historical life of a promiscuous policewoman. The rat kid is here to file a complaint."]
Thinking better of it, he's just a damn spoiled brat.
["Tsk, sorry, office hours are over."]
["Bitch, and when do they start?"]
["I don't know, when are you leaving?"]
["When you feel like attending to me."]
["Then I recommend you wait sitting down."]
["The rat kid has a chocolate."]
["Esteemed citizen, how may I serve you?"]
I take the chocolate from the boy and prepare to attend to him. It's easy when the customer knows good manners and it's just the type of chocolate I like.
["The rat kid feels indignant. Not only did the filthy public transport not work for days; when I arrived here to complain, a gorilla almost tore my head off. Why does the rat kid have to go through all this even though he tries so hard to evade his taxes? Give them back, give back the rat kid's effort. Give back the tax he never paid!"]
[[…]]
When everyone was in shock…
"PACK!"
Yumi, my colleague, assaults Astrad at dizzying speed and smashes her fist against his head.
["GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"]
Astrad, who was assaulted by the "Gorilla," crouches down with his hands on his head and screams in pain.
["Ohoho, it seems this boy is still half asleep. Don't worry, he should be awake now."]
[Gukkk.]
In the end, you're just a spoiled brat…
["Tsk… anyway, this isn't over."]
While we were distracted by Astrad, Aníbal proved he's not as stupid as he looks and stayed back with his bodyguards.
The rest of us look at each other and, after a silent deliberation, nod and decide to leave things as they are for the moment.
In an instant, hands moved away from weapons. Mission accomplished… I guess…