{ 001 }
"Just give me administrator access to the fusion cannon! I'm taking the shot now!"
"One, are you seriously going to do this crap again?"
"You're not here, Shikijo! You don't know what the fuck I'm looking at. I don't even know what the fuck I'm looking at!"
As the kraken's head rises from the darkness, the water and the snow follow it, disappearing into a pit of oblivion underneath its body, like a miniature black hole.
Level five clearance required, 001. You know that.
"Then get me clearance! Patch me through to Netami, dammit! Or Namakemono! Hell, take it up to Heaven's Door! I don't care!" I register the fact that Shikijo's still here. "On second thought, would you like to get me clearance, Commander?"
"Are you mocking me, One?"
"No, I'm paying forward my respect. Unless you would prefer virgin-girl—"
"—Okay, I'll get you your goddamn clearance. Hold on."
Sakura's treads slip against the rocks, or rather, miss the rocks completely, as the gravitational pull of Ouroboros tightens around us. On top of that, four of its tentacles are wrapped around the mecha, reeling us in like prey. I don't know how krakens digest their food, but if it's anything like the way an octopus dissolves it, I don't want to experience that as my early Christmas present. After all, in three days, it'll be the eve of the hallowed holiday, and the eve of World War III.
Well, what else can I do? Let this be the eve of World War IV?
"How's it coming on that clearance?" I shout. "And for the love of God, how long does it take for these thrusters to warm up?"
They're already hot, 001. Ready to fire when you are.
"Alright, then let's give this bitch the proper Hokkaido welcome."
Sakura launches forward with a haymaker before Ouroboros can react, skewering it through one of its six amber-colored eyes. The rockets kick in at the last minute, though, slowing my punch from a battleship to a slow moving freight liner.
"Hit the current!"
Two hundred thousand volts of energy rush up Akuma-1's arm, through the gauntlet, along the stinger blades embedded within Ouroboros' eye socket, and deliver the world's most powerful electrocution attack in spectacular fashion. The kraken screeches in pain, flopping backwards. Its grip loosens.
Clearance codes received. Cold fusion has been authorized.
"Computer, give me all you got," I whisper. "Welcome to Hokkaido, motherfucker."
With one finger already tensed on the trigger and another on the release key, I squeeze down as hard as possible, the sweet satisfaction of unleashing my vitriol all too intoxicating of a drug. Sakura's viewscreen flashes a hot orange, and the world around me heats up instantaneously, as it did once before inside the reactor room. I can do this.
Ouroboros loses half of its tentacles in the next half-second or so. They evaporate under the power and the heat, carapace incinerating into ash with barely any resistance. I free my other arm, and while the pain erodes at my resolve like a poison, I might have a chance here.
"Computer! What's the remaining status on the fusion cannon?"
Seventy percent. You may fire when ready.
YOU ARE READING
Spring Upon the Solstice
Science FictionSeventeen year-old Jhiro Fukiyama hates the world; that's a fact. Of course, he has reason to. After all, he's a Yomiborn in totalitarian Japan, and for that very reason, he's been treated like dirt for his entire life. But when he meets a mysteriou...
