He leaned over the holo-tablet and hit call, while the ship made a wide orbit over Mülldeponie, preparing to enter landing trajectory.
“Hey, dipshit… you still alive, or what?”
The response came instantly—the Author’s voice sounded like he was clinging to life with his teeth and half his ass.
“Dick?!
Thank the Goddess of Chaos…
Y-yeah… I think I’m still alive.
Where are you?!”
Dick snorted, like a man opening a fresh can of problems:
“We’re already in orbit.
Landing soon.Where do we meet?”
Heavy breathing crackled through the comm—the Author sounded like he was crying, praying, swearing, and celebrating at the same time.
“Y-yeah… hold on…
We’ll… uh… meet.Yeah…
Here…”
A sudden BOOM blasted through the speakers, followed by a predatory female roar—
like something not meant for communication just broke into the channel.
“The guys ran off somewhere!” the Author yelled.
“Blindy’s outside, I think—he’s losing his mind.
Zeros is gone—disappeared.
I’ll try to figure out—”
The connection drowned in chaos:
glasses shattering,
someone screaming,
cursing tangled with panic—
and then Tresbola’s voice cut through, sharp as a gunshot:
“¡Órale, siéntense ya, carajos, o los siento yo misma!”
The Author continued:
“—The mercs started a fight. Tresbola already dropped three of them.
Give me a minute…
Okay… heading out…
There…”
A brief crackle over the line.
Door scraping.
A sound like someone trying to open a fridge in hell.
“Just gotta get this door—
Got it! I’m outside!”
His voice shook—maybe fear, maybe the smell.
“I see him.
Blindy’s holding his head, screaming something about
who the hell covered his Cosmo-scooter in stickers—
yeah… he’s losing it…
Okay… moving closer…”
Another ten seconds of heavy breathing—like he’d been hauling Doce’s fat ass on his back. The Author finally said:
“Oh God… his ‘Rusty Fang’…”
A short hitch in the transmission, the Author struggling to breathe.
“It’s completely covered.
Handlebars. Lights. Panels.
Seat. Exhaust. Dashboard. Mirrors.Even inside the wing—HOW did they even get in there?!
There’s exactly ONE surface left on this entire planet that hasn’t been covered in stickers—
his scooter… Not anymore.”
The Author caught his breath.
“Blindy’s scratching his head and yelling—here, listen…”
And right then, Blindy’s voice slammed into the broadcast:
“M-MASSAGE CARDS—?!
A HUNDRED—A HUNDRED OF ’EM—?!
WHAT THE— I GOT IT THE FIRST TIME—!Hold on—wait—wait—
Maybe—maybe I DO need a massage—?!…nah—nah—
WAIT—DO I—?!”
A short crackle—then the Author came back on:
“You still hear me? So… he was actually about to go into the salon…
then changed his mind.
Threw the card away.
Got on the scooter.
And took off toward Shit Hall™ sector.”
The world froze for a heartbeat.
“Anyway…
we meet there.
Over and out… if I survive.”
The line cut—a short pshchk, like the communicator died from what it just heard.
Dick slowly lowered the tablet.
One second of silence.
Two.
Three.
He took a deep breath—like he was trying to inhale meaning out of all this.
“Well, that’s just fucking great.
We’re flying straight into hell.”
Airi tilts her head—her signature “concerned cutie” pose.
“Dikku-sama-sama…
That was… a normal message. （＾_・）ゝ
Do you always talk like that
after speaking with Sēji-chama?”
Dick looks at her like someone already dug his grave and put up a nameplate.
“No, Airi-chan…
That’s how I talk when I realize what’s waiting for me.
And what’s waiting for me…
is planetary-scale bullshit.” At that exact moment, the drone—which had been filming a wide shot—slowly drifted down beside Dick,
locked into a close-up on his face,
and performed a slow, dramatic zoom—
and in that same frame, the feed slapped a caption across his face: THIS MAN IS FUCKED.