Chaos Angel Spanner — Chapter 12: Bad Girls Can’t Win
Part 6: Showdown at Game Wars (Final Revision)
Part 6: Showdown at Game Wars (Final Revision)
tokyo. Hikki otaku Hiro Fukuda gets a videocall—could it be?—yes! It’s the object of his obsession: his maiwaifu, Aya-chan!
Freddy Freakbeak the Python-powered Furby sits on the throne hat on Shira’s head; just to torture him, she wears nothing else. She cuddles a beautiful nude ivory-skinned girl sporting bobbed black hair, exquisite conical nipples, sparkling violet eyes, and a sweet smile. “Moshi-moshiii! Hiro-nyan no maiwaifu yoooo! ♥” She smiles at the girl, then winks at him. “Nanashi koibito desu.” Her nameless lover sweetly waves.
The girls share a lusty long kiss just for him. His face goes red, his penis salutes, he believes his nose is bleeding like all those sukebe in his favorite anime. “Sugoiiii... ♥”
Freddy stares at him with unblinking eyes. “Baka otaku.”
downtown bremerton. Fourth and Park, Game Wars in sight. Five young women prepare to cross. Jennifer asks, “You up to this Challenge, redhead?”
Shira rolls her eyes at her. “You kidding? I own that G-bitch.”
Leila’s blood goes cold when she hears Oliver’s ringtone. The other girls stare at her. She decides to answer anyway. “Hello, Oliver.”
“Leila,” he says, “you were right all along. I’ve finally given up on us.”
“Did you get the acquisition cancelled?”
“I tried. Me, Christie, and the Admiral. The Governor wouldn’t budge. That means only you can end it now.”
“You mean suicide?”
“Anything that works.”
“I have something more drastic in mind. Christie will tell you when it’s done.”
“I’ll be waiting.” The call ends; Leila reholsters her phone.
“Well?” asks Polly.
“It’s a Fleer acquisition now. One more thing and I’m free.”
Polly panics. “Oh no, you gonna kill yourself?”
Leila smiles. “No. My name.” Polly, Jennifer, and Brandi look at her strangely.
Shira says, “Let’s go.” They cross kittycorner to get to Game Wars.
game wars. Five young women dressed to kill walk through the open front door side by side like hardened warriors. Spotting Shira, the door crew usher them directly to the sign-in desk. Several frustrated customers in line demand to know why. Shira yells back, “I’m scheduled for a Challenge! You’ll get your turn!”
Shira signs in under the persona that received the Challenge, Aya Shibata. Jennifer, Brandi, and Polly sign their own names. Leila is about to when her Achievement registers on the board. Sudden inspiration hits her like a thunderbolt. With a sly mischievous smile, she signs the word, “anonymous“.
“Hey!” the kid at the desk protests. “Don’t you have a handle or something?”
She raises a finger to her lips. “Shhh! It’s a secret.” She winks.
But before they leave the lobby, a long-haired man with freakish Rocker makeup and a GameBoyy paunch blocks their way and barks, “No girls allowed!”
Shira walks into his face. “You never could handle getting owned by a girl, Annie.”
“Annie?” asks Polly, confused.
“His name is Annabel Lecter.”
“Isn’t that a girl’s name?”
Annabel screams in her face, “It’s a badass Rocker name, stupid bitch! Now fuck off!”
Shira grabs him by the neck, pushes him to the wall till he slams hard against it, chokes him till he turns blue. “You trying to go all Rapeman on my friends? You always liked those games.”
He spits and misses. “You goin’ all lesbo. But you ain’t shit ’cuz you’re still just a girl. At least I’m a Man.”
“Girlfriend, I’m more Man than you’ll ever be.” She lets go. He slumps to the floor still clutching his throat. The Player crowd let out a monster cheer. Shira gestures to the other girls. “Ladies, let’s go.”
She spots a bored Debbie trying to beat a Sniper Elite machine. With a mischievous grin she sneaks up and playfully slaps her hard on her cute behind. “Oww!” Debbie shudders, gasps when she sees “GAME OVER,” and spins around to rage at Shira. “You idiot, you killed m—” Shira sweeps her into her arms and plants a hard kiss on her lips. Debbie backs away blushing. “Oh no no no no, please not here, please...”
“You hentai!” yells Nenene. Shira spins Debbie around into an embrace from behind. “You molest more bishoujo again!”
Shira kisses Debbie’s cheek. “Beware of this one, Ne-chan. She’s tsundere to the max!” She winks.
Charmian stares appalled past even the alien-looking kogal at the bizarre widened-eyed cosplay cuties surrounding, pale as herself, sporting pastel hair and cat ears. “Are those weeaboos?”
“Those yes girls,” Shira replies, “are her ‘weeaboos.’” Kitty ears cock over offended white faces.
The announcer declares, “Harl Davidson needs a new Challenge! Who’s badass enough to take on our Champion?” Shira dashes off. Floating mid-arena, air dancing before massively parallel Kinects is a green-blue color-change Street Fighter Ken. “Nobody?”
Shira appears out of nowhere. “Me!” The GameBoyz boo the girl. Before they can react, her clothes fly behind her and she stands conspicuously naked but for fighting gloves and boots. “Paint me, I’m in!”
“Labies and germs, we got a Challenger! Harl Davidson, meet Aya Shibata!” The GameBoyz howl, all the girls squee; in back Koji gasps, “Aya-chan!” Watching from Tokyo, Hiro sighs, “Mai waifu... ♥” Two bodypainted catgirls sprint in to spray Shira all over with self-organizing datapaint. Her body flashes blinding, shimmering red wings form from light, and the angel of chaos stands revealed before all and ready to fight. Aya Shibata, rock star of the Technosphere, covered in shimmering shifting red-on-white patterns based on the game of Life, wielding a BFS, wickedly grinning. All over Game Wars the monitors show highlights of her most shocking victories. The fast growing crowd scream louder than a heavy metal band as she leaps into the arena, dissolving wings left behind, to face Harl Davidson, airfighting sailor from Wyoming. “Fight!” the announcer yells. Harl Davidson and Aya Shibata throw themselves at each other.
Stan Green leads in his Moral Enforcers, geared up to fight, refusing to sign in or pay, beating up anyone who demands it. Crooks and gamblers make bets on the main event and the fight now raging. Christie spots Leila with her friends, leaves her sisters and cousin, and hovers jealously over her rival, clearing her throat. The girl with the violet eyes looks up at her. “Oliver is still mine, even if your grandfather keeps refusing to cooperate.”
“I’ll have to help you keep him, then, by any means necessary.”
“What are you planning, Shelley.”
“It’s a surprise.” The violet-eyed girl winks.
Beck complains, “Bitch stole my Challenge!” Rex, Scotty, and Lance echo, “Yeah!”
Debbie grins. “Well, sucks to be y’all, boys.”
The announcer declares, “Winner and still champeen, Ayaaaaa!!!!” Hovering over the fallen Harl Davidson, Shira spins a too-sexy airdance to taunt the GameBoyz. She catches sight of the blond girl next door and winks; the girl winks back. Before she can deliver her usual sendoff taunt, Annabel Lecter throws himself in with a feral roar. She deftly darts pixie-like out of his path and nods to the scorekeeper to make this Challenge official.
“Player Slayer Annabel Lecter has officially challenged Aya!” says the announcer. Everyone pays attention: the two top-rated Players in the Technosphere, fighting right here at Game Wars Bremerton for them alone, a fight that will become legend. Forget the scheduled main event, this is the real thing! The projectors morph Annabel into a spiked-leather Road Warrior Rapeman. Shira laughs. He thrusts his spinning bladed phallus forward and rushes her, but withdraws it when she tries to cut it off with her sword. Chrome-spiked leather warrior, naked angel with video skin: the spectators’ emotions choose their sides for them while they hover around each other in mid-air stalemate.
Arrogant and impetuous as ever, Vince Corson sees the opportunity to take Shira out and leaps in. She flies away and bounces off the wall to kick him straight into Annabel. Rex protests, “Hey! That’s my brother!”
Beck, Scotty, and Lance hold him back. Beck scolds, “He’s an idiot, Rex!”
“Yeah!” adds Scotty. “Let him take his own punishment!”
Annabel catches him, spins him like a nunchuck, and flings him back at Shira with a two-fireball chaser. She catches him and spins him, landing him upside Annabel’s body, sending them both flying into the wall; Corson falls helplessly to the mat, but Annabel quickly recovers and tries to skewer her with his razor phallus; she taunts him by vanishing and reappearing around him at will, leaving him with no target but air and mirage. He spins and wobbles dizzily trying to land a blow. She flits around, dodges and parries, appears and disappears in random places, taunts him, insults his manhood, pricks him like a bullfighter into irrational rage; he swings his fists, swings his phallus, spins, charges, tries to catch her yet never does, tries to destroy this maddening pixie taunting him into rage, attacks with blind fury that only gets blinder with every miss, further enraged by the audience that insist on cheering her on instead of worshipping the Man, him. He lands devastating hits on airy illusions and on walls that barely stand up to his assaults. She flits chaotically around him like a mad butterfly, stings his most vulnerable spots like an angry killer bee, laughs at him like a malevolent fairy. Soon enough he loses consciousness altogether, throwing out kicks and punches with no aim, spinning his bladed phallus with no target, floating aimlessly on air cushions that refuse to let him fall.
Below on the mat, Vince Corson rubs his dizzy head, looks up, waits for his opportunity. It comes soon enough. Distracted by her victim’s blind flailing, Shira stops to hover over him. He looks up—he gasps in shock at the realization that she’s wearing only body paint and no clothes, not even trying to hide her clearly visible slit; he tries to fight his libido, but his penis goes hard and stiff against his will; he roars with rage and horror and helpless uncontrollable desire, leaps up with all his strength, catches her leg and holds on—
She flips him directly between Annabel’s legs. The Player Slayer flies up and back, holding his groin, howling with pain and further rage. She flings Corson high into the air, spinning wildly, buffeted by the air currents. Into her foe she launches herself feet first, knocking him back helplessly into the wall, dances the air currents into doing her will so they pin him, hammers him with a ten-kick combo on the wall, then catches Corson and spins him around to land four more, then unpins him to unleash a flurry of hard quick kicks, dancing all over him till he finally loses consciousness, and finally double kicks him away. Annabel bounces off the wall, but this time only to fall to the mat. She drops Corson; Rex and Beck drag him out of the arena as fast as they can.
“Aya wins again!” screams the announcer. The crowd roar like a 747. Shira spins, pumps her fist, and lets out at last her infamous taunt: “Next victim!”
“Aya-sama! I am your next victim!” Without a change, Koji Mizoguchi, street fighter turned airfighter, leaps into the arena.
“He’s here for the Challenge at last!” the announcer booms. “Labies and germs, Aya Shibata versus Tattoo Ryuuuuu!”
He focuses his force into one force attack, activates his Lightning Force, launches himself at her, and screams, “Aya-chan! Suki daaaaa!” His Pure Love Smash crashes headlong into her dreaded finisher, the Electric Boogaloo—one hit, ten hits, combo of four hundred blows—he bounces off two walls and lands on the floor; before he falls unconscious he sighs his last word: “Rabu rabu yuuuu~...♥”
“Tonight’s champion!” screams the announcer, “Aya! Shibata!” The charismatic champ flings out her arms and lets out a howl her legion of fans echo. Incapable of shame, she shuts off her datapaint to reveal her sweat-drenched bare body to the roaring crowd; an African drum soundtrack pounds, she dances a wild victory dance, a mass seduction, not only here but on every monitor throughout the building and all over the Darknet. Shira Thomas, superstar: she is their goddess, they are her cult. They cry out to their hero. Even the GameBoyz belong to her now.
A small horde of screaming raging Moral Enforcers leap onto her; one catches her only to slip and fall, she kicks some away, knocks others into each other, using them as weapons against themselves. She flies back out of the arena and runs back through the adoring crowd to her friends. Stan Green punches out the announcer. “This game is over! In the name of Jesus America and all that’s moral, we—” Annabel Lecter’s fist shuts his mouth, signalling the Moral Enforcer attack, quickly met by GameBoyy hordes, till their brawl quickly consumes the entire place and Shira triggers the fire alarm. Bremeloes, Pretties, and catgirls dash through the surging swaying fight saving girls and weaker boys and ushering them out before they fall victim to the fighters’ rage. Debbie looks for Shira; she is nowhere to be found, vanished as usual, her girls with her. She looks for her own team; gone too. She dashes through the back into the alley—
It is dark. She is alone. No one around. All is silent till a voice calls out: “Deborah Becket!” She spins to see the Shepherd with top hat, spiral-print shades, and scraggly black whiskers—
“What do you want, Scofield?”
“Beware the Angel of Chaos. Do not let her steal your heart. She will take your soul to Hell.” He turns and walks away. She glares at him through the darkness as he disappears.
shira’s apartment. “The darkness feels comfortable like a blanket,” says the girl with the violet eyes in her seductive Irish accent, “and there’s something I feel the urge to tell you before its gentle caress carries us away to sleep.” She rolls over on the bed to face Shira and caresses a soft breast with her hand. “I’ve been thinking about what those neighbours of yours said this morning. The more I think about it, the more I believe they’re right. I understand them in my heart. Oh my sweet cinnamon girl, I wish we could all be like they are.”
Shira gives her a puzzled look. “I always understood names as convenient labels. People change names all the time.”
“But they identify too much with names. Some people build theirs up into nobilities and dynasties like the Dragonite clans, some change them in ways that boost their Egos like that creepy Annabel Lecter guy, and others give away their names along with their souls. But your neighbours have convinced me that if you always remain true to your innermost self, you don’t even need a name at all.” Leila rolls on top of Shira’s body and grins. “I signed in at Game Wars as ‘anonymous.’“
Firmly she grips Shira’s shoulders. “My love, I feel deep in my heart that this is the answer to all my prayers.”
“Wait, didn’t you pray to Satan?”
“I’ve prayed to entire pantheons.” She winks. She takes a long deep breath and lets it out. She says with newfound conviction, “You’re right. I’m not a ‘Leila Shelley’ anymore. I am the girl with the violet eyes, a woman without need for a name. Cinnamon girl, will you forget my name and always and forever treat me as an anonymous beauty just like them? I beg you. I promise I’ll do the same for you no matter what.”
“You telling me you wanna be one of ’em?”
“I am one of them. Oh love of my life, I’ve finally found my reason to live: you, and this. Please promise me you’ll do it for me, the girl with violet eyes who loves you more than her own life.”
Shira gazes into her lover’s pleading eyes. The soft smile and trembling flesh tell her something has changed in her, a joy she has never seen, and realizes how serious she really is. She already made her choice. “Is this the suicide you were always searching for?”
“The world is dead. My name came down from it. I am now dead to that world. So yes, it is. ‘Leila Shelley’ died today. Let it rot in its grave.”
“Damn, girl, if you’re right, I’d be a damn fool to keep inflicting it on you. It’d be like calling you ‘Leela.’” The girl with the violet eyes laughs helplessly. Shira kisses her so hard she moans. “Let’s do this.”
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Copyright © 2012 Dennis Jernberg. Some rights reserved.
[Revision 4 Final, 12/7/12: The long main sequence was originally the entire Chapter 12 R1 and 12.5 R2; now vastly revised for Fourth Revision continuity. Everything else is new to the Final Revision.]