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Meanwhile, many miles outside of Yugo City...
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Gagstown was on fire.
Literally. Amongst the ninth rejuvenation of the outlandish city, buildings were set ablaze like oiled-up hay, emitting a heat that shattered every last window, causing a vicious back draft to unleash from each of them. The streets of the burning town were filled with riots that occasionally weeded out the weak amongst them onto the streets to die from blood loss and/or broken bodies.
“DEATH TO ALL BAD MEMES!” One guy shouted, soon to be followed by several others as a typical mob would do to conform. Several victims, assumingly the conjurers of these said “memes”, took the beating of their lives and later joined the streets littered by both dead and dying bodies. Soon the last of the conjurers were eliminated and the angry group stormed into the burning building with so much rage and adrenaline that they barely felt the heat. Out of the three that were currently being stormed, one collapsed into dust, burying alive those who were still in its crumbling structure.
In the same town far enough away to not fall victim to the madness, a man in a white muscle shirt and cargo shorts sat at his office at ground level, looking out his window while blowing a cloud of smoke from his mouth, sweating from the heat.
“It’s no use,” the man sighed, speaking to no one, for the building was deserted, “the law has fled, and one man against a revolution of this caliber is like a moth to a flame.” The man so named Detective Karl Grenmark cleared his throat, vainly standing up to stretch and walk just out past the broken door frame to get a better view. “Might as well enjoy the chaos while it lasts…” His cigarette barely touched his lips when he heard a gut curdling scream from the building adjacent to his.
“The Sheriff! …but the mob is over there! How in the-” He threw his cigarette on the ground and dashed into the building where he heard a startling gunshot. The screaming died almost instantly after, followed by a faint but equally sickening squishy sound. Karl couldn’t imagine such a revolution where people were so mad they would… eat the sheriff?
He made his way past the door to see none other than the Sheriff lying limp and bloodied on his desk. Karl examined the gaping hole in his neck, shuddering at the sight. Who – or what – would have the tenacity to do such a… such a… Karl had no words to describe it. His stuttering mind soon drifted along with the flow of blood running along the desk, guiding him to a letter that appeared to be still freshly written. Karl managed to grab the letter and hold it up to read, ignoring the blood that it soaked along the bottom. The letter read:
To: Netcom Antivirus Squad (NAS),
The name is familiar, Karl thought, they call themselves “the Firewall.”
This is an urgent message from the Sheriff of the Ninth Gagstown. I write with the utmost plead for action in sending your squad over to my town to be rid of the threat that it brings to my people. Bodies litter the streets all thanks to riots breaking out, and I have had enough of it. Chaos in this city will not be tolerated, which is why I ask again for you to come in haste to put an end to i-
The letter was cut off by a thick stroke of ink that trailed into a splotch of a more chunky black substance mixed with blood. Karl flinched and dropped the letter when he looked over to see the sheriff staggering to stand. Karl was speechless.
“Sh-sheriff?” he exhaled in disbelief. How could he be still alive with his neck bitten through the bone? “…sheriff… you… you’re aliv-” The sheriff turned as if to make a sarcastic reply, but to Karl’s wide-eyed horror, the sheriff’s mouth stretched down below his neck, revealing golden-brown teeth the size of a man’s thumb, “…sh-sh-…sheriff??”
“GWAHHHH JUSTIN BIEBERRRR’S AWEZOMMM!!!!!” shrieked the mutated sheriff as his mouth stretched more up past his eyes and dived at Karl.
Karl’s terror turned into energy as he instinctively ran out the door into the ruin of what used to be Gagstown. This time there were more corpses than rioting townsfolk, and he ran along the streets like a hurdle track, with the bodies being the hurdles. He could hear the shrieks of the infected sheriff behind him when at the corner of his eye he saw a body move to its feet and started to limp, followed by several others. Karl’s breathing grew heavier by the minute and he backed away into a nearby alleyway, but his back collided with a bypassing infected citizen.
“SWEEEEEEEE QUEEN IS GAYYYY!!!” the infected being grabbed Karl by the neck with both hands, making Karl scream in utter fear as the thing stretched out its mouth to engulf Karl’s head whole, decapitating him. Several infected bodies limped over to feast on the meal that was made for them, gorging themselves and squealing absurdities in delight.
At that moment, the city’s population consisted of only the infected trolls, while some dispersed outwards past the city boundaries in search of more dinner.
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It was a slow day at work for Loki. Although he wasn’t on Netcom, he made a living working as a bagger at a grocery store on Lifenet, or has he refers to as “IRL.” He was pushing a cart filled with items that were left behind by people who were too lazy to put it back themselves.
“Matt, can you please come up front, please?” The voice on the intercom made him jump. They caught him at the most awkward time; he was in the middle of one of the narrowest aisles and he had no choice but to set it as far to the edge as possible albeit there was barely enough room to squeeze by. Strutting his way to where he was called, his manager was waiting.
“I want you to fill up the cooler with ice bags,” she said with semi-authority, “Can you do that?” Loki nodded with a hasty “Yup” and made his way toward the back, hearing a faint “thank you” from behind him which he acknowledged without looking back. The aisle he walked down was decorated with customers with their kids begging for ice cream. Loki looked at their pouting faces hearing the word “no” and smirked, but ended up in the cooler to stack bags of ice in rows of seven and columns of five.
The 300 pounds worth of ice was fairly easy to roll out of the doors, but the aisle he went down earlier was twice as congested as before. He took a deep breath and made his way through, hoping they would part to let him pass, but none budged, and the stack of ice nudged someone in the side. He flinched and darted a glare at Loki that aimed to kill.
“Sorry, sir, but I need to get through.” Loki sighed, only to see the customer push the stack of ice over and make a mess. The noise drew the attention of the others as Loki and the guy’s eyes were still locked.
“You know,” the guy spat, “just cause ya work here doesn’t mean we have to let you pass. You’re not a cop. We shouldn’t have to part the aisle to let you through.” The guy spoke street smart, and his black skin and beefy structure showed it. Loki still met eyes with the guy, not intimidated.
“Well,” Loki replied, “it seems like common sense to be a gentleman and let me through regardless,” he drew another deep breath, “after all… if it weren’t for my taxes going into your food stamps, you probably wouldn’t even be here.”
The black man grimaced in anger, “You racist f*ck,” he reached out a long, thick arm that grabbed onto Loki’s collar, “Just cause I’m black means I’m a homeless druggy, is that it?” His face was just inches from Loki’s, and Loki could feel the warmth of his breath that reeked of Newports. Loki latched a hand onto the grabbed part of his collar and dismantled the man’s grip, throwing his arm to the side.
“Whoa-ho-ho, look out, we got a badass over here!” The man laughed and made a taunting dance, but Loki stood emotionless and looked at him in pity. Loki sighed, “You dance like some of the prostitutes on the street. Perhaps you’re inspired?”
With that remark, the man froze and tensed up, “White boy thinks he’s so tough, huh?” He jutted forward to deliver a punch, but Loki rolled one end of the float he used to carry the ice into the man’s face. He staggered back, giving Loki the opportunity to lift up a bag of ice, twirl it around once, and clobber the man’s head, knocking him down and making a shower of ice chunks that rained from what used to be the bag. The observers in the same aisle stared and kept a good distance away from the conflict, some even gathering their children and leaving the aisle completely.
The man was still out cold (literally) when Loki’s manager ran down the aisle after getting a report of what was happening, exchanging looks between the incapacitated man and Loki, disgusted, “Matt,” that was Loki’s real name, and she couldn’t have stressed it enough, “You better have a good explanation for this…”
“The guy attacked me,” Loki responded promptly, “I was only defending myself.”
“Yeah, well, someone called 911 and now we have the police coming over, and you’re gonna have to tell them exactly what happened,” she sighed and looked to the side, her hands on her hips, “and we might have to revoke your employment here.”
Loki shrugged, “We’ll just have to see how it rolls out.” His voice showed an obvious sign of carelessness as his manager went back to the front office. Seeing as how he still had an hour left of work, Loki picked up the ice that was spread all across the floor, continuing the task of stocking the cooler with whatever bags weren’t broken.
Loki clocked out an hour later and headed out to his car, his head hurting from all the questions asked by the officer that attended the situation. He was let off as innocent and he was thankfully forgiven for what went down. It was dark, which was no surprise to him considering he always worked until near closing time. Half way across the parking lot, he pulled out his keys from his coat pocket when he saw a man looking in through one of the windows of his green Honda Civic, making him groan.
“Hey you!” he shouted, “You, that’s not your car!” The man jolted up to look at Loki, acting in a hurry as he picked up a rock and smashed the glass through. Loki broke into a run, “HEY!” the man grabbed a plastic cup filled with Goldfish and started booking it into the woods, but Loki caught up and tackled him into the asphalt, skinning his left cheek. Loki made good work of making sure the man in ripped-up rags for clothing and dirty skin could not get away.
The man pulled out a knife from his pocket and began slashing at Loki. Dodging the first swipe at his face, he received a harsh cut on his arm which dispatched its grip on the man’s, but Loki’s other arm grabbed what was hanging from the man’s back and pulled him back to hook his arm around his neck. The man attempted to stab blindly at Loki’s grimacing face, but Loki grabbed the wrist of the wielding hand and slipped the knife out of it, kicking the man in the back after recovering the cup of Goldfish that was stolen, and that man fled into the woods empty-handed.
“Don’t touch my Goldfish,” Loki declared in a muttered voice, “…or my car.” He turned back to see his car fallen victim to the shattered glass that was his back-left window, frowning. Holding the knife of the homeless man, a car’s headlights revealed a glare from the blade to the officer that just began to leave the lot in his vehicle. He pulled up with his lights off and saw the knife in Loki’s hand, which coincidentally had blood on it, and he got out of the car, “Please don’t tell me you used that knife on the man in the store…” Loki was about to explain but he was told to put his head on the police car, “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
Loki sighed and hitched a ride with the officer, whom drove him home to his curious parents that were heart-broken by what their son has done. After the officer left, Loki didn’t bother to explain the situation to his naïve parents, accepting revocation of his privileges and going right into his room.
“Well, now that this day is finally over…” Loki sighed as he pulled out a drawer from his night stand to reveal a laptop computer which he saved for just this occasion, opening it on his lap and putting his headphones on. The screen flashed and Loki was sent through a tunnel of colorful, plasma-like energy taking him to a desert of white sand and a blinding sun, which later took the form of a concert hall with flashing strobe lights and pyronetics. On the stage were five girls dressed in gray prisoner’s outfits that were zipped down to just above their pelvis, revealing the cleavage above it.
“4Minute,” Loki said breathlessly, “…take me away from here.”
Meanwhile, in the same concert hall, the doors leading in burst open. Several humans that appeared mutated and burned at the flesh extended their mouths to gorge the heads of whoever was closest. Following were the emergency exits and the ceiling doors leading to the roof. All the mutant infected trolls opened their mouths wide to reveal their monstrous teeth.
“WAAAAAHAHA 4MINUTE SUCKSSS GANGNAM STYLE RULESSSS!!!!!”
