The Karglaxi, noticing Dick’s panic, started moving toward them—slow, deliberate—shoving anything in its path aside like a bulldozer clearing a trash lane.
The drone caught it from above,
framing it like a “documentary about the collapse of civilization.”
But before they got close—
A heavy, dull boom rolled through the ground,
like a giant hammer slamming into the bones of the planet.
The earth trembled.
The drone jolted, stabilizers whining,
but held the frame—like a cameraman who’d already seen everything.
The crowd?
Completely unhinged.
They didn’t react at all.
They kept swaying in their brainless, ritualistic frenzy,
proudly calling it “dancing.”
Airi stepped forward—fast, sharp movements,
precise, almost unnatural,
like an onryō from old horror films.
The drone dropped closer instantly,
casting a soft glow around her silhouette—
like it was shooting a trailer for “Airi vs. the World.”
She stopped beside Dick and the author.
Looked at the terrified writer—
and smiled in a way that made it worse.
“Ohayō… Sēji-chama… (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)ﾉ♡”
The smile vanished—like a frame cut out.
Her face went still.
“We should return to the ship.
Something’s happening…
Something totemo-totemo bad. [≧д≦ヾ]”
She raised her hand and pointed toward the horizon.
The drone instantly switched to long-range view.
Its lens expanded, focus sharpening—
and the stream saw what Airi saw:
Far away—miles out—
a monstrous wall of black smoke was slowly rising.
It swallowed half the sky.
Airi still had her arm raised, pointing at the smoke far beyond the horizon, when the air above Shit Hall™ trembled—
not loud, not sharp,
but like something massive had started tearing the sky itself apart.
“Iku yo. Ima. ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡)”
For the first time, the crowd slightly drifted away from the dancing.
Just a little.
DIE WÜÜD slammed straight into the most feral part of Fichtl-Frosch:
“BRÜÜÜMMM—pfRRRRT—KVAAAARK!”
And then—
above the crowd,
at a ridiculously low altitude,
almost scraping its landing struts across bar signs—
a ship burst into view.
Long. Copper. Predatory.
Z-P-N-E-S 2.0.The engine roar rolled across the square
like thunder had decided to become heavy metal.
The drone instantly shot upward,
took a high angle,
and pushed the ship onto the stream in full scale.
The first to scream was the Karglaxi—
the same one with arms dragging the ground, about to eat Dick a second ago.
It spun around and bolted
like it had suddenly grown eight extra knees.
Panic ignited like a match.
Humans, aliens, androids—everyone scattered.
Everyone except, of course, the DIE WÜÜD fans,
who only screamed the chorus louder:
“FICHTL-FROSCH! FICHTL-FROSCH!”
Above, the ship’s rear fuselage opened wide—
like the mouth of a metal whale.
From inside came a roar
that could give therapists lifelong insomnia.
“BLIIIINDY!
YOU ROTTEN PIECE OF SHIT,
JUMP—NOW!
WE NEED TO GET THE FUCK OUT!”
Zeros, and judging by how the ship’s hull vibrated—
he was VERY pissed.
The drone jolted in shock,
lost stabilization for a second,
spun midair—
but locked back in,
because the stream mattered more than personal safety.
Blindy appeared below—
out of breath, flushed red,
in full “panic multiplied by alcohol” mode.
He heard his psycho-droid’s voice
and charged straight into the crowd,
jumping across heads
like a deranged magpie hopping rooftops.
He burst through to his space-scooter—RUSTFANG,
still covered in massage stickers.
The drone zoomed in—tight shot on the stickers.
Blindy screamed over everything:
“HOW THE FUCK MANY STICKERS DID YOU SLAP ON THIS THING?!
I’M GONNA BE PEELING THIS SHIT OFF FOR A YEAR!”
A gust from the sprinting Karglaxi
ripped a few stickers loose—
the drone caught them in slow motion,
like a dramatic “farewell, you useless fucking decals.”
“COME ON, RUSTY!
LET’S GO, BRO!”
Blindy jumped—
Rustfang shrieked like an offended seagull
and shot upward—
straight over the still-shellshocked crowd.
The drone blasted after him,
catching angles from below,
from the side, from the front—
like a proper chase cameraman.
The scooter slammed into the open fuselage.
BDYNTS
Zeros barked:
“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NOT BRAKING?!”
Blindy:
“IT AIN’T ME—!
I SWEAR BY SAINT DEGRASSE—!
THIS PIECE O’ SHIT DON’T TAKE ORDERS—!
I’M JUST HOLDIN’ ON—!”
The fuselage snapped shut with a metallic CLACK.
One second and the ship launched forward.
Z-P-N-E-S 2.0, like a copper arrow,
tore through the air above Shit Hall™
and shot straight toward the wall of black smoke
that was already swallowing half the sky.
Below, the crowd froze—
stunned, mesmerized—
And then DIE WÜÜD decided to play the final verse:
“FIIIIIIIII—KVAAAAARK—BRRRÜÜÜMMM—!”
The drone dipped low, captured the crowd—
then rose higher,
and locked onto the ship disappearing into the distance,
like it was filming the final shot of the season.