Guerrilla Radio

00:45

Ding.

The lift opened on its last floor—

-“Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” Bobby said as he waltzed out, looking around him.“This doesn’t look like the top, sir.”

“I told you—we’re in the fucking basement, guaranteed.” Fred added frustratingly

-“There’s a window right there, and it’s a security measure. That—right there—is the final elevator.”pointed the captain

Twinkle Toes stumbled around—

-“So, what’s the plan, boss?” Fred's eyes light with excitement.

Richard coughed for a second. “Well... to wing it, as always.”

-“I meant it in a more structural way, boss.”

A long sigh escaped Richard’s lips. “This is where we part ways.”

Fred and Bobby both blinked.

-“But sir—”

-“No, no. It was too much of me to ask even this much of you. I can’t ask for more.”

-“You might not be asking. But we’re coming.”

-“Yeah, boss.”Fred said firmly

Stepped forward, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.“Listen—take care of that kid. And make it out alive. Tell the women the world of my great adventures.”

The two looked at each other with unease.

“Tell them about my grandeur—as Captain Richard the Fourth, who faced death and peril to save the world all by himself.”

-Fred narrowed his eyes. “Is this some sort of PR stunt?”

“Oh yes,” Bobby smiled. “Very distinguished.”

-“No! It's not a PR Move” Richard shouted, spinning dramatically. “It’s me... being kind!”

With that, he marched into the last elevator. The doors slid shut behind him with a solid thunk.

Silence followed.

Bobby sniffled. “He’s so brave.”

Fred looked down, eyes furrowed. Then his brow raised.

-“Wait a minute... What kid?”

They scanned the room in a hurry, eyes darting until they spotted the child—wandering, aimless—ambling through a nearby door like he owned the place.

Without a word, they followed, ducking into the broadcast room just in time to see the kid climbing onto a tall chair, scooting his way toward a dusty, flickering microphone. It was the city's broadcast system—wired into every screen and speaker from here to the docks.

-"Bobby," Fred said, squinting, "I think he’s about to sing again."

-"Oh, isn’t that just delightful, Fred?" Bobby beamed.

-Fred deadpanned. "The last time he did that, we got swallowed by a literal whale."

- Bobby blinked."Well, when you put it like that, maybe it’s not such a brilliant idea after all. Come here, little one."

- "Come here? He’s not a dog, Bobby. Just grab him and let’s go."

-"I can’t just grab him. He needs to be taught boundaries. If he gets picked up by random people, he might end up getting taken by who knows who."

-"And who are we exactly?"

- "Well... Bobby and Fred."

-"Not to that kid."

-"Wellll—BOBBY AND FRED!"Bobby repeated, louder, as if that clarified anything.

-Frad pinched the bridge of his nose."I meant in relation to him."

- "Oh... well, nobody."

-"And what exactly do we need to do with him?"

-"We’ll take the kid."

- "So why on Earth would we want him to have boundaries and be cranky and stiff and stuff, if we’re the ones grabbing the kid?"

- "Honestly, I don’t like how we look when you put it like that."

-"Good point. We should rebrand."

-“We grab the kid first, then we rebrand.”

-“Well, no.”

-“What do you mean no?”

-“We need a cover-up story.”

-“For who exactly?”

-“Well, us obviously.”

-“No, I meant who are we covering? We're not supposed to be here.”

-“To be frank, the president-man said nothing about the length of our visit.”

-“Oh Jesus…”

As the whole building shook to its core for a second—

-“The hell was that?”

-“The kid?”

-“Nah, he ain’t started singing yet.”

-“The Captain?”

They both looked at the lift numbers, still going up.

-“Maybe it’s the terrorists attacking the building.”

-“That’s too obvious, Bobby. It’s clearly a different type of explosion.”

The sound of clanking metal broke the conversation. A man approached.

-“Pardon me, but I don’t think you’re authorized to be here.”

What stood before them was a man in a U.S.S. uniform, covered in light blue scales, a deformed face. His hands and feet were webbed, with gills on the sides of his neck.

-“IT’S MERMAN, FRED! THE KID CALLED A MERMAN!”

-“Bobby, he’s still not singing.”

-“Well, who the hell is he?”

“I’m your worst nightmare,” the man said with a smile, his jaw practically ripping in two, revealing sharp teeth.

-“Trust me—you ain’t it.”

-“Excuse me?”

-“Well, the nightmare—it’s definitely not a posh fish man.”

-“What are you on about?”

-“Oh, well, Fred has this recurring nightmare that’s haunted him for years—”

-“Bobby.”Fred sighed

-“He asked.”

-“I meant it as a phrase.” the fish-man elaborated

-“I’m sorry, Bobby. I know you’re sore on the subject.”

-“Eh, might as well tell him.”

-“Really?”

-"He asked!"

-"I meant it metaphorically!" the Merman snapped, annoyed.

Bobby shrugged. "I’m sorry, Fred. I know it’s a sore subject."

Murman’s gills puffed, his eye twitching. "Are you two done?"

Fred nodded. "Yeah, just one more question."

-"What?"

-"You bite hard?"

-"Like hell." the creature smirking.

-"Cool. 'Cause you're about to chew on my boot."

-"See, it’s about his mother—" Bobby continued

"I DON’T CARE!" the creature lunged forward with its two curved scythes.

"WAIT!"

The man stood in place.

"Do you really not care?"

"Why would I care? You’ll be dead in less than a minute."

Fred scoffed. "Blimey, isn’t he pretentious?"

"You’re unarmed, and I’m a shark-man!"the beast like figure explained

"Get a load of this, Bobby—he calls himself the shark-man."

"Oh Fred, be nice."

"Excuse me—and what exactly are you two bloody hooligans capable of that should impress me?"

Fred jolted into laughter. "We’re fucking pirates, mate!"

And in one fluid motion, he ripped a lamp from the side table and hurled it straight at the shark-man’s head.

-“Give us a tune, love!” Bobby yelled to the kid.

-“Yeah, turn it up to eleven!” Fred grinned. “We’re going fishing!”

The creature froze, its monstrous form locked in shock.

-“What on earth...?” it muttered, staring at them in confusion baffled by their antics.

The conversation continued during the fighting, as if it was more important than the fight itself.

-“See, Fred often dreams about his mother,” Bobby said, suddenly sounding way too sincere.

-“Yeah,” Fred nodded, eyes drifting. “I miss her a lot.”

The creature tilted its head, unsure of what to say. “Happy to... reunite you?”

-“Oh, she’s not dead,” Fred replied casually. “I just owe her a lot of money. And she’s a working gal, so she knows how hard it is to earn it.”

-“Anyway,” Bobby cut in, “he dreams about her, sure, but he also dreams about his future wife and daughter—which I think is lovely. However, I fear he’s secretly scared of being emotionally involved.”

-“What on earth does that have to do with his mother?” the creature asked, genuinely confused.

-“We’ll get there,” Bobby said, holding up a finger.

-“You could hurry up,” Fred muttered.

-“OKAY, so—he has a family right? . But he loses them in this sea of sand—which, I think, is quite a unique concept, never mind that—and he searches for them relentlessly,every move slowly sinking him deeper in the sand jet he doesn't stop…”

“And as he sinks,” Bobby continued, eyes wide with the seriousness of someone explaining a vision, “he hears their voices. His wife, his daughter. And then a hand reaches out—he thinks it’s there to help.”

“Let me guess,it's them pushing him in deeper, ” the creature muttered, glancing around.

-“Nope, wrong,” Bobby said with a dramatic snap. “It’s his mother. She’s the one who took them. All because of the money he owed her.”

Fred nodded solemnly. “She’s a working gal. She knows how hard it is to get by.”

-“So he gives her everything he has,” Bobby went on. “His wedding ring, his daughter’s locket... everything. He begs her—please, give them back.”

-“And she just says...” Bobby leaned in, eyes distant.

“They were never yours to begin with.’ Bobby dropped his voice like a punchline. “Boom. Whole new kind of nightmare.”

“And?” the creature asked, arms crossed.

“And right when it hits the worst part comes,” Bobby continued, “he starts yelling at his mom, like it’s all her fault. But then his perspective shifts. Suddenly, he’s her. Like, old and tired, and he sees himself—younger—yelling at her. And it hurts, but he can’t stop it.”

Fred looked away.

“And then the kid and the wife show up,” Bobby finished quietly. “They’re yelling too. Then they all leave. And he just... drifts. Alone. In sadness.”

“I think I’m going to have a stroke,” the creature muttered.

“Wild, ain’t it?” Bobby grinned, just as the creature balled its fists.

-"If you're done talking, can we just kill each other already?"

Both nodded

Before it could strike, the stairway doors slammed open. Smoke billowed out—and through it burst Maeve and Max, followed by exhausted, Russians.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Maeve snapped, gun raised and eyes scanning the chaos.

Max’s eyes darted to the kid standing at the mic.

“Oh no. No-no-no,” he muttered. “We are so fucked if he’s singing again.”

“We don’t have time for this!” Maeve shouted.

“Where’s Richard?” she barked.

“Oh, he’s at the top,” Bobby said casually, pointing upward.

“Got it,” Max said, already running.

The two of them bolted toward the final elevator, boots pounding across the cracked floor, the sound of Twinkle Toes’ warbly singing trailing behind them.

The Russians surrounded the fishman, frustration etched on their faces as they cracked their necks and knuckles.

-”oh bother,” The creature sighed.