Summer Wars: A Live Report Rip Off
Chapter 5: From North of the Border
It was such a nice day. This was how Europe was supposed to be viewed. The traffic whizzing by, the pedestrians lolling in a lazy tide. The sun was out, the wind kissed the back of his neck like an adoring lover. It was a shame it would all go to waste.
TheDougler raised a cup of coffee to his lips. As the last bit of the bitter draught disappeared down his throat, he uncrossed his legs and took to his feet. It really was a nice day. He started to walk, his gaze fixed on the intersection a stone’s throw away. He’d been in Berlin less than a week, just long enough to scout the local roads and get a feel for the city. He only cared about one man, but this was a city of millions, and knowing the habits of its citizens went a long way to getting things right when push came to shove.
He had just come from another city of millions where a man... a boy... a teenager? It was hard to remember which term would keep him safe from the SJWs these days, but TheDougler knew the guy’s name was Soularion. What mattered was that he was gone now, his body having taken up residency at the bottom of the Saint Lawrence. TheDougler wasn’t evil, maniacal or even remotely intriguing, but what he was good at was killing. Most people ceased to exist. He existed to cease.
He couldn’t stop laughing at that one. Nervous gazes shot his way, but that didn’t stop him. Germans were too stoic to get a good joke anyway. Give it a few weeks and that might change. The man in Berlin was but the first step on a long journey. It was the king himself, Durn that lay at the end. That was the type of murder no one could ignore. TheDougler wasn’t a thrill seeker, but a bit of glory sounded nice, even if... No, especially if it meant leaving a trail of blood across the globe.
He was laughing so hard he could do nothing but double over and cackle. People gave him a wide berth and sped by at such a rate you’d think he was a bursting hive of Ebola virus. They didn’t get the joke. Of course they didn’t. They would soon enough. It was only a matter of time.
Chapter 6: My Kingdom for a Cup
Elentos lowered his head into his hands and sighed.
Same story, every time.
All year, waiting, waiting, cheering, crying, cheering… For what? He shouldn’t have known this was how it was going to turn out. Sure there was a moment of hope when Jupp came back, but even he couldn’t save Bayern from death at Spanish hands.
Elentos took to his feet, imbued by a purpose which had been bubbling within for months. And this wasn’t some form of horrific indigestion, this force churning his gut with a righteous fire. The answer was simple, how was it only he knew. The only way for Bayern to retake their place as Kings of Europe was for him to ascend and lead them into Eden.
When had Durn last been seen? His name and deeds had already slipped into legend. But those legends held great power and the authority to rule the world. The whole world bent to his will and it stalled as he retreated into solitude. Nothing was changing, but Elentos would change that. Claiming Durn’s throne would be a difficult task. Warrior after warrior would attempt to obstruct his path, including the King himself, a champion without peer.
But if he could manage to do that he could gut those thieving Spanish teams. A century long transfer ban might do the job, but there were other, more direct methods. It was a monumental task. He knew it very well could be lunacy. Bayern winning another champions league would be realization of a dream, and having the world beneath his boot didn’t sound so bad either.
Chapter 7: An Honest Misunderstanding
Why did they always scream?
Mizenhauer roughly replaced the tape on this teen’s mouth, which only served to muffle his panicked cries. Mizenhauer shook his head. Staring into wide, feverish eyes was never pleasant and this boy seemed incapable of calming down.
Disappointment and resignation hovered over him like a winter jacket as he shut the door and stomped upstairs. They never really got it. Try to explain to someone why Twice was the best thing since sliced bread or the merits of HotS and everyone got so worked up.
It went like this for a few days before he’d just get fed up with the whole affair. He’d have to inevitably dispose of would be discussion mates, lest they expose his tendencies to the community. Deep down he regretted the whole thing, but he was just trying to get a point across. Some said that’s what the internet was for. He could visit a forum or maybe join a discussion group of like minded people. Just thinking about it made him want to vomit. There was something so perverse about those sort of places. There were negatives to this method, to be sure, but it worked for him.
He’d have to take a break for the whole thing for a bit, though. There was someone really worth convincing elsewhere. His bags were half packed, clothes neatly stacked on the floor along with his toiletries. To be honest, he wasn’t all that thrilled. He hated France, but sometimes it was worth doing things you didn’t enjoy. That’s what he told himself, at least, and it had gotten him pretty far.
That blasted King Durn. He was a fanatical SNSD fan, but how he was wrong. He needed to be shown the light of day. AND SOON!
Mizenhauer couldn’t even hear the screams as he walked through his cabin, as his eyes glided over walls covered in Twice Posters. Yes, leaving home would suck, but this was something that needed to be done.
Chapter 8: There Goes the Neighborhood
There was something beautiful about Peru. The way the pulse of civilization, grandeur of nature and weight of history congealed was thoroughly intoxicating. How he used to love a meandering stroll in the mountains where the cool air thinned with every step. Another tour might take you through the Amazon, a steaming realm of teeming life.
Yes, there was something profoundly beautiful about Peru, but it wasn’t beautiful anymore.
They came overnight, not with the oppressive drone of a swarm of locusts, but with the insidious whisper of an icy winter breeze. They didn’t come with a flurry of gunfire. Their weapon was money, persuasion and subterfuge. Turned out Peru was not immune. Officials were swayed, while others were silenced in the dead of night. Their plan was well underway by the time anyone realized. Long before Topin formed the resistance.
Peru found out the day the internet went dead. The phone lines seconds later. Sat phones no longer found their targets. Ships and planes were blockaded. Peru was shut off. Reports of strange convoys moving through the country began to crop up. Fear spread like wildfire as more and more went missing. It was only by intercepting one such convoy and interrogating the men inside that the resistance discovered the source of the affliction. France.
A network of counter intelligence gave Topin’s men a glimpse into the outside world. The government was bought, housed up in mansions where generators hummed. The resistance pled their case to the world, but no one was listening. France wasn’t capable of such a brutish act, they said. And so Peru wallowed.
There was hope among the people when Durn took power. He had the power to call off the operation and liberate Peru, but the new King seemed more intent on sitting in his castle than actually governing.
High in the Andes, Topin stood before a rising sun. The engine of a small plane formed a throaty refrain nearby. Help wasn’t coming, they would have to help themselves. He would go to France, kill the King, take the throne and save his people. The electricity would come on, the economy would stir and the internet, which was admittedly never that great to begin with, would reconnect them with the world.
He was just an ordinary man, but the hopes of a nation rested upon his shoulders. With a deep breath, he started towards the plane.
Editor: The Spirit of Tzuyu, Durn