Chapter 17:
Who the hell are the Gang-Bangers!?
Bullet Gloryhole!
Of course we were going to enter the convention through a conveniently positioned alley outside the line.Of course that was going to be the entrance for… ah, shit, I hate even saying the word: cosplayers.
I guess someone, put imaginary quotes around “someone," needs to grease the gears again…
“You’re very quiet, Hiro,” Aya said, circling me while we walked.
Yeah, of course she was trying to make me see whether she was wearing underwear under her maid outfit or not.
The answer is no, she wasn’t wearing underwear.
Not that it matters, not that I was paying attention, just thought you should know.
“It’s just that everything’s too convenient, almost touching the cliché of someone who needs to recalibrate ideas,” I muttered, taking a step, stopping so Aya could circle me again, then stepping forward. “Why a maid?”
“You seriously asking? Don’t you have culture?”
“I’d prefer you say I’m just not an idiot. Blending in with you dressed like that is basically the opposite of a plan that could work.”
“You’re underestimating otakus, Hiro.”
“Or overestimating them.”
“Ah… uh… that. Anyway, what do maids do in anime, Hiro?”
“In the ones I saw, things I can’t repeat out of respect for the audience.”
“You don’t respect the audience.”
“Good point. Anyway, continue.”
“Ah… you’re really slow out today, huh?” she said, stopping in front of me. She struck a weird pose, spun, and faced me again. “We sneak into a café and get free access to every stand we want. In a place like this, calling attention is how you blend in.”
“Because everyone’s trying to call attention,” I said, pointing at the door at the end of the alley, which obviously and conveniently led straight into the convention, skipping the infernal line process.
Aya grabbed my wrist before I could turn the knob.
“Are you an idiot or what? You can’t just walk in like that.”
“You shitting me? Everything’s fucking convenient and now suddenly I can’t just enter?” I asked, looking at her sideways.
“Maids and butlers don’t have the same privileges,” she said, clearing her throat.
She stood straight and knocked on the door three times in a strange rhythm.
“Ha… of course… gonna tell me there’s a fucking secret cod—”
[“Password?”]
A girl’s voice came from the other side. The door cracked open just enough for a pair of eyes to scan us up and down.
“This has to be a fucking joke…” I muttered, rubbing my eyes wearily.
“We don’t have one, we’re new, came on recommendation,” Aya answered the girl. She wasn’t acting, the idiot was genuinely excited about all this shit. I wonder if she even remembered why we came here in the first place.
[Ah… uh… uhm… one… one moment…]
The door closed. Nothing happened for a long while. I started thinking Aya had fucked it up—which wouldn’t surprise me, but then the door opened fully. A guy who looked like a 70's porn actor stepped across the threshold, holding the girl we’d talked to,another maid, with a chain collar straight out of BDSM and probably some priest’s wet dream.
Yes, I just blasphemed. Deal with it.
“So what about you two?” the guy asked, digging a finger in his nose, probably would’ve reached his brain if he had one.
“Came on recommendation,” I said.
“Shut your fucking mouth. I was talking to the girl,” he said.
“Okay, look, fatass, how the fuck do you dare interr—” Aya practically lunged to clamp her hand over my mouth.
“We were recommended by the gang-bangers,” she said, struggling to keep her hand on my mouth.
“Ah.” That’s all the guy said before wiping his finger on the wall. Disgusting, if you ask me. “The gang-bangers… alright. Inside…” He stepped aside, waving us in like he was in a hurry.
Aya went first like it was nothing, lifting her skirt just as she passed him. And no, trust me, I have no fucking idea why. At this point I’ve stopped asking questions. She was in her own world, just walked in and I lost sight of her.
When it was my turn, the maid stepped into the doorway.
“You don’t just walk in like that,” the guy said, slipping on sunglasses with a purple tint.
Question: Who wears sunglasses in a dark alley?
Two answers:
One: an idiot.
Two: an idiot with a fucking ton of cocaine.
“Got it… you think I’m carrying cash in this shit costume or what?”
“The girl said the gang-bangers sent you… so I think you know not everything’s paid with money.” As he spoke, in the silence of the alley I heard the sound of his zipper coming down. “Any hole works for me, I’m not picky.”
“Hold up… repeat that last part?” Clearly this guy’s head was somewhere else and he was high as fuck.
“Come on… don’t play dumb… you know how it works with me… some even call it a gift,” he said, thrusting his hips to make me look at his package.
“I got no fucking clue who the hell you are, for starters. Second, put that thing back in your pants or this gonna go south.”
The guy let out an exaggerated laugh I didn’t like at all.
He yanked the maid by her chain and pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her. If I were her, I’d already be throwing up.
“Tell him my name.”
“J-Johnny…”
“More direct,” he said, slapping her.
“Johnny!” she raised her voice like it was reflex.
“That’s not expository enough.” The second slap sounded like a belt crack across the back.
“Johnny Mermaid!” she practically screamed, straightening like a soldier.
“Yes… Yes… Johnny Mermaid…” he repeated, squeezing her with his arm.
“Johnny Mermaid? Seriously?” I tried to hold back the laugh while bringing a hand to my waist. “What a fucking name eh.”
“Know why they call me that?”
I exhaled in pure resignation. “I’m all ears.”
“‘Cause I swim in bitches,” he said, laughing again like those idiots who laugh at their own jokes.
“Yeah… think I get it…”
I looked up for a moment, silent. Clearly this was taking too long for some reason I didn’t know, though you don’t need to be a genius to figure it out.
“Hey, girl, whatever your name is… you like movies?”
“N-not much…” she answered.
“Shows. Can you move your neck a few millimeters to the right?”
The situation was already over-revved and I was getting impatient. I mean, Aya was already inside and I was out here dealing with this girl and the cokehead waving his ding-a-ling like a flag.
“Alright, if you’re gonna stand there frozen you’re not helping, but I’ll give you a free lesson,” I said, moving my hand from my waist, a dumb, useless distraction—useless if the guy had more than two neurons, which, to my luck, he didn’t—to grab my gun and press the barrel to Johnny’s forehead. “If the plot stalls because of a character, you gotta take them off the way, or the story ends up like one of those indie French films where is a 15 minute static shot of a guy drinking wine next to a goat.”
I guess someone, put imaginary quotes around “someone," needs to grease the gears again…
“You’re very quiet, Hiro,” Aya said, circling me while we walked.
Yeah, of course she was trying to make me see whether she was wearing underwear under her maid outfit or not.
The answer is no, she wasn’t wearing underwear.
Not that it matters, not that I was paying attention, just thought you should know.
“It’s just that everything’s too convenient, almost touching the cliché of someone who needs to recalibrate ideas,” I muttered, taking a step, stopping so Aya could circle me again, then stepping forward. “Why a maid?”
“You seriously asking? Don’t you have culture?”
“I’d prefer you say I’m just not an idiot. Blending in with you dressed like that is basically the opposite of a plan that could work.”
“You’re underestimating otakus, Hiro.”
“Or overestimating them.”
“Ah… uh… that. Anyway, what do maids do in anime, Hiro?”
“In the ones I saw, things I can’t repeat out of respect for the audience.”
“You don’t respect the audience.”
“Good point. Anyway, continue.”
“Ah… you’re really slow out today, huh?” she said, stopping in front of me. She struck a weird pose, spun, and faced me again. “We sneak into a café and get free access to every stand we want. In a place like this, calling attention is how you blend in.”
“Because everyone’s trying to call attention,” I said, pointing at the door at the end of the alley, which obviously and conveniently led straight into the convention, skipping the infernal line process.
Aya grabbed my wrist before I could turn the knob.
“Are you an idiot or what? You can’t just walk in like that.”
“You shitting me? Everything’s fucking convenient and now suddenly I can’t just enter?” I asked, looking at her sideways.
“Maids and butlers don’t have the same privileges,” she said, clearing her throat.
She stood straight and knocked on the door three times in a strange rhythm.
“Ha… of course… gonna tell me there’s a fucking secret cod—”
[“Password?”]
A girl’s voice came from the other side. The door cracked open just enough for a pair of eyes to scan us up and down.
“This has to be a fucking joke…” I muttered, rubbing my eyes wearily.
“We don’t have one, we’re new, came on recommendation,” Aya answered the girl. She wasn’t acting, the idiot was genuinely excited about all this shit. I wonder if she even remembered why we came here in the first place.
[Ah… uh… uhm… one… one moment…]
The door closed. Nothing happened for a long while. I started thinking Aya had fucked it up—which wouldn’t surprise me, but then the door opened fully. A guy who looked like a 70's porn actor stepped across the threshold, holding the girl we’d talked to,another maid, with a chain collar straight out of BDSM and probably some priest’s wet dream.
Yes, I just blasphemed. Deal with it.
“So what about you two?” the guy asked, digging a finger in his nose, probably would’ve reached his brain if he had one.
“Came on recommendation,” I said.
“Shut your fucking mouth. I was talking to the girl,” he said.
“Okay, look, fatass, how the fuck do you dare interr—” Aya practically lunged to clamp her hand over my mouth.
“We were recommended by the gang-bangers,” she said, struggling to keep her hand on my mouth.
“Ah.” That’s all the guy said before wiping his finger on the wall. Disgusting, if you ask me. “The gang-bangers… alright. Inside…” He stepped aside, waving us in like he was in a hurry.
Aya went first like it was nothing, lifting her skirt just as she passed him. And no, trust me, I have no fucking idea why. At this point I’ve stopped asking questions. She was in her own world, just walked in and I lost sight of her.
When it was my turn, the maid stepped into the doorway.
“You don’t just walk in like that,” the guy said, slipping on sunglasses with a purple tint.
Question: Who wears sunglasses in a dark alley?
Two answers:
One: an idiot.
Two: an idiot with a fucking ton of cocaine.
“Got it… you think I’m carrying cash in this shit costume or what?”
“The girl said the gang-bangers sent you… so I think you know not everything’s paid with money.” As he spoke, in the silence of the alley I heard the sound of his zipper coming down. “Any hole works for me, I’m not picky.”
“Hold up… repeat that last part?” Clearly this guy’s head was somewhere else and he was high as fuck.
“Come on… don’t play dumb… you know how it works with me… some even call it a gift,” he said, thrusting his hips to make me look at his package.
“I got no fucking clue who the hell you are, for starters. Second, put that thing back in your pants or this gonna go south.”
The guy let out an exaggerated laugh I didn’t like at all.
He yanked the maid by her chain and pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her. If I were her, I’d already be throwing up.
“Tell him my name.”
“J-Johnny…”
“More direct,” he said, slapping her.
“Johnny!” she raised her voice like it was reflex.
“That’s not expository enough.” The second slap sounded like a belt crack across the back.
“Johnny Mermaid!” she practically screamed, straightening like a soldier.
“Yes… Yes… Johnny Mermaid…” he repeated, squeezing her with his arm.
“Johnny Mermaid? Seriously?” I tried to hold back the laugh while bringing a hand to my waist. “What a fucking name eh.”
“Know why they call me that?”
I exhaled in pure resignation. “I’m all ears.”
“‘Cause I swim in bitches,” he said, laughing again like those idiots who laugh at their own jokes.
“Yeah… think I get it…”
I looked up for a moment, silent. Clearly this was taking too long for some reason I didn’t know, though you don’t need to be a genius to figure it out.
“Hey, girl, whatever your name is… you like movies?”
“N-not much…” she answered.
“Shows. Can you move your neck a few millimeters to the right?”
The situation was already over-revved and I was getting impatient. I mean, Aya was already inside and I was out here dealing with this girl and the cokehead waving his ding-a-ling like a flag.
“Alright, if you’re gonna stand there frozen you’re not helping, but I’ll give you a free lesson,” I said, moving my hand from my waist, a dumb, useless distraction—useless if the guy had more than two neurons, which, to my luck, he didn’t—to grab my gun and press the barrel to Johnny’s forehead. “If the plot stalls because of a character, you gotta take them off the way, or the story ends up like one of those indie French films where is a 15 minute static shot of a guy drinking wine next to a goat.”
Please sign in to leave a comment.