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Oh, sure. Let's do this. In, gimme cards.
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Feb 7, 2017 19:40
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| # ¿ May 17, 2024 20:28 |
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I committed words! So sorry! Prompt: Cards! Dispeller's Capsule (Used the flavour text) Thunder Dragon (Not used) Slipstream Eel (Used the flavour text) --- Two peas in a pod -- 1548 words The forecast said that it would be a beautiful April day. Nature herself seemed to concur with that. The birds were signing in the anticipation of the warm summer days that were soon to come all over the northern hemisphere. Flowers were in full bloom and the last remnants of snow have already melted away. Truly a great day to be Russian. Or Japanese, of course. The other countries also had received a good forecast. Anyone who that morning heard the weather report for central Germany was firmly rooted in the belief that the whole day is going to be sunny. The report listed the high temperature as ten degrees, with the low just a smidge above freezing. To sum it all up: The most perfect weather for backyard vegetable gardens or for a sunny stroll after a most dreary winter. Sadly, unlike for the Russonese, the day was going to be substantially less beautiful than predicted for anyone who, through no fault of their own, just happened to be a German citizen residing in Berlin. The actual weather was going to be quite different from a nice day. To give the Berlin meteorologists credit, it was not their fault. Some things are quite hard, if not impossible, to predict. To be fair, the forecast at least got what would turn out to be the low exactly right. Sadly, the high would later turn out to be off by a couple million degrees. The sun would be temporarily blotted out by a mushroom cloud, ruining the best part of the afternoon. Had he managed to stay alive through the day's ordeals, the chief climatologist of the Third Reich would have protested that neither the radiation levels nor the fallout have anything to do with weather and are thus not the concern of the climate service. All this horrible meteorological disturbance was caused by the actions of two brave volunteers. One was strongly Russian. The other was honourably Japanese. The Russian was fifty-five and, having seen everything, humourless and rigid. The Japanese was just nineteen and, on account of his youth, naive and full of life. The two did not know each other's names. They shared enough languages between the two of them to understand each other, but it did not make for nice conversation. It was choppy and awkward. The two did not get along. The Japanese thought that the Russian smelled of cabbage soup. The Russian thought that the Japanese was an idiot. Their airship, the "Thunder", was a rocket-propelled two-seater. With it being of Japanese design, it was no surprise that the trip was meant to be strictly one-way. The war was not going well and extreme measures were required. Launch time came in the early morning. The capsule lifted off, carrying underneath itself a giant bomb which resembled an egg. The bodies and minds of the two men inside were pushed into the sky by the rocket thrusters, but their hearts remained on the ground. *** "I like the symmetry of this project", The Japanese broke the uneasy silence. Having failed to obtain a response, he continued. "You know, the bomb destroys everything down below and also itself, right?" "And us", The Russian grunted. "Yup! We wouldn't reach the target otherwise. If this doesn't work then both of our counties are done. Cheer up, we'll die for a good cause!" "Is your life truly worth only that much to you? You are so content to die, just like that?" "I'll be reborn after my death. Countless glories will be given to me after my passing. You should rejoice too. You'll be reborn as well." "How Buddhist of you! I am not so sure about that whole rebirth business. I do not believe in ghosts." "It's from the kabbalah. Jewish." "All religions are the same to me. Same promises, no results." "This one will have results!" The silence continued. The machines hummed uneasily. Seven minutes to the target. "Why did you sign up for this?", the Japanese inquired. "What do you care?", the Russian scowled. "I'm curious, eh? If not for glory and honour, then what?" "Mind your own business." "Look, you don't believe in this whole rebirth thingy. What's the matter? We die, poof! No one knows anything!" The Russian pondered for a moment. He signed. Finally, he spoke. "Her name is Natasha." "Oh! A girl!" "Yes. A girl. Most beautiful. Most kind. She was sweet to me." "So, what's the problem? You find someone cute and sign up for a suicide one-way mission to kill millions? Doesn't add up! You a patriot of some kind? Wanna die so she can have a country and a life?" "No. She liked me, but... I was too old. She is barely twenty." "Ah. And you are--" "Fifty-five." "You are well preserved! You don't look a hair over fifty!", the Japanese said, making a point not to look directly at the Russian's bald head. Five minutes to the target. "I think I get you. One option is that you croak from this run and don't have to worry about the skirt." The Russian nodded, but said nothing. "The other option is that you are reborn and get a second stab at the chick in your next life. You can't lose! Brilliant!" "I do not believe in rebirth", The Russian said and gave the Japanese a condescending smile. Four minutes to the target. A buzzer rang out in the capsule. The two men looked at the button located in the middle of their airship. Someone would have to press it. "So...", began the Japanese. "What?", barked the Russian. "Who gets to press the button?" "Your people made the capsule. You know the procedures of honourable dying better than I do." "But the bomb is more Russian than Stalin himself. You do it." Silence. Three minutes to the target. "How do we decide?", the Japanese asked. The Russian grunted. It was hot. His skin was starting to itch and tingle. No shielding on the bomb meant an extra 200 kilometres of reach and it's not like the men were meant to survive the mission anyway. "We need to decide", the Japanese insisted. "Then it is decided. You do it." "No, you should do it." "Why are you putting such a half-hearted effort into this?", the Russian asked only to realize what he had just said. "I'm a heartless bastard, remember?", The Japanese said smiling wide. "Are you serious?", The Russian asked incredulously. "Don't lose heart, comrade! You push the button!" Two minutes to the target. "You are disgusting. Is everyone in Japan such an idiot? A joke contest? Now? Are you out of your loving mind?" "You need to be more light-hearted. As good of a way to decide as any!" "You moron. How can you be like this? Be serious!" The Japanese just smiled, not replying. The game was on and there was no stopping it now. The Russian knew that the Japanese had a point, a decision needed to be made and this was a way to arrive at a decision. They both would be gone in just a couple of minutes. What would one moment of levity change at this point? Dark humour never gets old. "With a heavy heart, I have to tell you that I will not play this game", the Russian started. "You're breaking my heart." One minute to the target. "Maybe that is because my heart is not into a joke contest as we are about to kill a whole city?" "And yet you play along, you big oaf with a soft heart!" "I play along because I have a heart of gold and I really do not want to press the button." "It's not that you have a heart of gold, you're just chicken-hearted!" The Russian was stuck. It was his turn to reply and he was out of ideas. The buzzer rang again. Target. They were in position. It was time. The Russian cursed, signed and pressed the button. Everything happened. The rocket engine cut out. The explosive charges were armed. The bomb timer started counting down. The Japanese started screaming and pissed himself. The Russian rolled his eyes. The heart-lung machine that kept the men alive turned off. The capsule rattled. And then it plunged downward ever so slowly then quicker towards the gr ou n d . *** The kabbalistic symbols glowed brightly on the walls of the rebirth room. The Russian clumsily climbed out of his vat. He desperately wanted to throw up. The headache was bad enough, but the stench of amniotic fluid that still coated his skin was a bit much even for him. Next to him the Japanese was still being formed in his vat. Fresh tissues were rapidly appearing around his heart that he had left there just a day before. A rabbi entered the birthing chamber. After glancing at the progress within the Japanese man's vat, he queried the Russian about how has the journey treated him. The Russian went to scratch his head. His young hand found a sea of jet black hair. He smiled. "It's a fine way to travel, if you don't mind the smell", he said, forgetting for a moment about the nuclear fires of Berlin that he started.
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Feb 9, 2017 21:47
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