lol, rndm. See, sometimes capitalism can be awesome. ;P
Estrea.... Yes.
That...
Thank you for the gun technobabble, HartAKL85.
Omg, Fen... No faith in Commie?
Even after I made you all FenHero [insert heroic pictoor here]. Hmmm... but you're right. Aewen would prolly win... CUZ I'D LET HER
(Actually, not really. She'd totally win. ;_; )
14: Made in...She sat down at her desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard, thoughts spinning in her head so quickly that she didn't know how to set them down for the record.
"Well, may as well just let it flow out through my fingertips," she muttered to herself.
She hit 'Reply' on the Ayaya thread, then thought about it and closed the window, opening up the Postwhoring thread instead. She hit 'reply' there and began to type.
Hello, all.
Now I know that I have an imagination that can sometimes get the better of me, and believe you me, I am the first person who will admit to this. But what I saw three days ago really did happen, and it has taken me these three days to let it swish around in my mind. Three days to analyse it before writing an account.
It all started when I took a lunch break...She paused for a moment and read everything she had written. She deleted it all and closed the window.
"I've got to find a less clichéd, more descriptive approach..."
But how could she put into words exactly what she'd seen? It had been straight out of a detective thriller. A conspiracy movie. A HelloPro fanfic.
"Hmmm."
Estrea thought back to three days ago...
~~~~
"Ok, see you in forty-five," I said to a co-worker, giving a brief wave and quickly slipping out the door.
I headed down to the company cafeteria feeling slightly down. The past few days had been very hot. So hot that only the palm trees in this godforsaken city could thrive. The people were holed up in their air conditioned homes and office buildings, and the streets had taken on the atmosphere of a post-apocalyptic urban junkyard. Like
I Am Legend, minus Will Smith.
In between classes, I worked as a financial consultant. I had no idea how this managed to fit into my busy schedule, but somehow it did. Must've been one of those ComFen Plot Contrivance things. (I love those!)
In fact, that duo - Fenrir and Comrade - had been on my mind of late. I knew they were going to be hanging out in Los Angeles and going to the Morning Musume concert. I had wanted to join them, but an emergency had popped up back in autumn (total and complete world economic failure), so I had since then been a bit caught up with trying single-handedly to revive Singapore's economy while paying off my school bills. The Hipsters had promised me lots of pictures and reports, though, so I didn't feel so bad missing out.
I reached my usual table and put my book down (I always had reading material with me, from famous, high brow literature, to fanfic printed out from the forum). I grabbed a tray and went to see what monstrosities they had awaiting me for lunch. Once loaded up with some type of meat that didn't seem to be squirming (like last time) and a pile of overly mushy vegetables (I like my fluffy fics like that, not my food), I went back to my table and began to chew on the tasteless meal while reading.
I got through six pages before dropping a soggy piece of broccoli on myself (a record, since I usually drop food on myself by the fourth page of whatever I'm reading). I was hesitant to wipe it off since it was only broccoli and wouldn't leave a stain. However, obsession took over me, and I knew that if I didn't placate my mind by performing a perfunctory wipe down of my trousers, I would convince myself for the rest of the day that I had some massive green spot on my thigh and that all my clients would see it and laugh. I took out one of the packages of moist toilettes I pocketed weekly from my flight attendant friend's home, and I used one to gently pat my leg. Done with the tissue, I folded it neatly and placed it on my tray. I was done with pretending to enjoy my meal. I then bent down to find the wretched piece of broccoli that had caused all this trouble. I couldn't see it anywhere under the table, so I rolled back up, took a breath, and went for another gander under my chair. Nothing there.
"Hmmm," I hummed aloud, resting my chin on my fist and staring out into the space in front of me.
I promptly choked.
"Khgyaahaha chac ahahllahaklllkha!" went my abnormal cough, drawing several stares from co-workers (thankfully, we didn't work in the same section).
I resumed my regular breathing pattern. I blinked.
"Khgyaahaha chac ahahllahaklllkha! Hkaaaahkkaaaaakkhhhkaaaaa!" I went off again.
This time, a girl who had just started working in the same section as me two weeks ago came over to my table.
"Are you all right, Estrea?" she asked.
I was in the middle of clearing my throat silently while trying to swallow, my face scrunched up and beat red with effort. I raised a hand and nodded as confidently as possible. She left. Nobody else came to bother me. They were used to my strange reactions to things that were just not so reaction-worthy.
This time, however, it would have been worth their time inspecting the situation, for right in my line of vision was Matsuura Aya.
But no, it can't be, I thought, shaking my head with a chuckle.
Ayaya had no scheduled appearances in Singapore or any neighbouring country, and if she were here on vacation, she would not be at my office building's cafeteria. She'd be enjoying tourist-y sights and eating yummy local foodstuffs.
But gosh, she sure looks like Ayaya. Could be her twin...I squinted a bit to make sure she was completely in focus, and I tilted my head to the right just a tad in order to get a front view of her face. The girl was reading off a sheet of A4 sized paper, a pen in one hand. Every few sentences, it seemed, she would write a short comment in the margin and give a satisfied nod. I continued to watch, ignoring the commotion around me as employees laughed during their forty-five precious minutes of free time between torrents of work. A cell phone rang once. It rang twice and then thrice. After the fourth ring, I was about to yell out for the owner to just pick it up already when the girl I thought looked like Ayaya snapped out of her reading and searched through her purse, pulling out a light pink Softbank with keitai straps galore. Then my jaw dropped in astonishment. The ring had sounded familiar, but I hadn't been able to place it because I hadn't listened to the song in a long time. The minute the girl answered the phone, the name of the song came into my head.
"Love Namida Iro!" I gasped to myself.
Could it be a coincidence that this Ayaya lookalike had an Ayaya ringtone and a Japanese cell phone?
"Hello~" the girl said in a sing song voice.
In Japanese.
In Ayaya's voice.
"Holy f*^%@&#~!"
Ok, breathe, breathe, breathe I chanted in my head while trying not to hyperventilate.
It's just Ayaya. Only one of the most popular former Hello! Project members. Breathe. Everything's ok. And just remember: she doesn't read our fanfic. She doesn't know the horrible things we do to her and how we like to kill her off. Breathe. Breathe breathe breathe.I settled down and listened. It was too late, however, for the girl - now confirmed to be Ayaya - had lowered her voice and her personality had gone from high strung and bubbly to serious and even a bit... evil...
Probably discussing some business with someone.But why she'd do that here in Singapore was beyond me. Unless she was really here to see a financial consultant. Was the economy in Japan so bad that Ayaya had to come all the way to Singapore for a consultation? It made no sense. Unless she had investments in a joint-stock venture co-sponsored by Singapore and Ja-
My speculative paragraph was cut off by the author because she had no idea what those words used together meant . Also because Ayaya got up. I cackled maniacally and stood up, too. I was going to follow her. I still had half an hour of lunch break left, and there was nothing like a little fangirling over an idol to get the blood pumping for the afternoon grind.
Ayaya moved off at a rapid pace, and I followed suit. She took a left at the cafeteria entrance and wound around several corridors, each section turning darker than the previous one. It was slightly ominous, but I had no reason to be suspicious. There had been many pushes made of late in order to be a bit more ecologically friendly in the office. Reduced lighting was just one way to combat the looming threat of global warming. It also saved money to turn lights off.
Lost in thought about the environment, I almost didn't notice Ayaya halt just outside a door. I stopped myself just in time and rushed to hide behind a conveniently located, tall, potted plant. I peered through the leaves and saw Ayaya knock six times in some kind of coded pattern. A few heartbeats passed by, and the door opened. To my dismay, it was so dark in the room that I couldn't see the person who had opened the door, but I could tell she was female.
"Matsuura-san," she greeted in Japanese.
Are the Japanese taking over our company or something? I wondered sarcastically.
I tried to identify the voice, but I couldn't. It wasn't anyone in HelloPro that I recognised.
"Do you have what I asked for?" Ayaya asked.
I could barely make out the figure nodding. She pulled a rectangular package from what I presumed to be a table beside the entrance and shoved it into the slightly brighter (but still dark) corridor. Ayaya took the package tenderly. It was about half a metre long and fifteen centimetres thick.
"That's ten hits," the voice from the doorway explained.
Drugs?! I wondered in shock.
I had known it all along! Ayaya was a junkie. It explained a whole lot.
Ayaya frowned.
"Only ten? Is this the same model I asked for?"
Or not drugs...?The doorway figure nodded again, this time taking a miniscule step forward. I still couldn't make out her features, though.
"It's the latest miniature model of a Callahan full-bore autolock with a customised trigger and double-cartridge thorough gauge. You have fewer rounds because it's only a prototype mini," came the erudite response.
Ayaya nodded, completely unruffled by this explanation.
A GUN?! I screeched in my head.
What the heck was Ayaya going to do with a gun? And how did she understand what had just been said?
"Any kinks that haven't been worked out yet?"
Doorway Figure shook her head.
"The only thing keeping this baby off the records and shelves is the low ammo capacity. Once they figure out a way to increase that without compromising weight and balance in its miniature form, she'll be cleared for regular use."
Ayaya breathed a short puff of air out through her nose and took a decisive hold of the package, which I now knew was a gun.
"This'll do," she stated.
It didn't sound like a very nice way to thank someone, but judging from the relief I could sense in the air, I guess that was the closest Ayaya ever came to expressing her gratitude, at least to this gun dealer.
"Will you be going over to America this week?"
Ayaya nodded.
"Comf-"
She stopped herself and looked around. I stood absolutely still behind my precious potted plant.
"The
targets," she resumed, "will be available soon, but this is just an aperitif."
She hefted the package up to show it to Doorway Figure.
"So what's the main course?"
The voice was full of malice and hunger. I knew that whoever this person was, she was bitter with her life.
"Oh, you'll be reading about that in papers soon enough, Maeda-san. Just keep an eye out on the Saturday morning edition," Ayaya chuckled.
Maeda....?Doorway Figure started to cackle as well, and she took several steps forward and right into the dim light.
Maeda Yuki.
Maeda Yuki and Matsuura Aya were laughing like devils in the corridor of my workplace. Ayaya was holding a gun that Yuki had supplied.
The world was ending.
Without thinking, I slipped away from the plant and edged along the wall to the end of the corridor. Once I turned the corner, I ran like heck to find the first set of stairs down. I had to get out of the building. Had to get home. Had to say something to someone.
But what?
~~~~
And that was how she had left matters. All in a pile of questions. No conclusions. No solutions. Just questions that surfed her brain waves and distracted her from her daily duties. And now, at twelve o'clock in the morning, several days after the incident, she was ready to tell the forum what she had experienced.
She re-opened the main page and found the Postwhoring thread. She hit 'Reply'.
Hello, all.
Now I know that I have an imagination that can sometimes get the better of me, and believe you me, I am the first person who will admit to this. But what I saw three days ago really did happen, and it has taken me these three days to let it swish around in my mind. Three days to analyse it before writing an account.
It all started when I took a lunch break...~~~~
...
Topic: ComFen Adventures ~Order Restored, H!P Saved~ (Read 22644 times)