Chapter Text
“Does paradise exist?”
“It must.”
“How would you prove it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“If you reached Paradise, what would you do?”
“Bring everyone there.”
“Even if you had to leave?”
“It’s not paradise if it’s not for everyone.”
“Then go, little rabbit. Shepherd us all to paradise.”
Amiya’s ears twitched, the sudden noise of car engines and urban chatter snapping her from her dream-like stupor. The bright sunlight blinds her sleep-addled eyes. She shields her face as her eyelids flash, getting a bearing of where she was.
An urban city-scape greets her squinting eyes, a concrete and metal forest with skyscrapers towering as far as the eye can see. Crowds of bipedal animals and humanoid robots moved through the streets, mingling in lively conversation. Yet the strangest to her were the young girls who all bore glowing halos on their head, with guns strapped casually aside cute backpacks. It was as if she stumbled into a strange Lateran city, which Amiya would have believed, if it weren’t for those so-called Sankta bearing features of other races as well, such as Felines, Perros or, most unbelievably, Sarkaz.
Before she could get acquainted with her new surroundings, a large truck comes barreling down the sidewalk, a small group of helmeted Sankta(?) all shouting and hollering, guns waving around the air. The crowd can barely dodge out of the way before the truck rushes past. The blaring of sirens soon follow, a fleet of black and white motorcycles in hot pursuit. The two groups take aim at each other, trading fire as they race down the city streets.
Bullets fly through the air, tearing up concrete as Amiya huddles behind a shop sign, trying to shield herself from the oncoming hail of projectiles. Aside from jumping out of the way of the truck, though, the rest of the crowd didn’t seem to care. In fact, many were jumping, shouting and cheering. Cries of “Go Task Force!” and “Get ‘em!” rang through the air, much to Amiya’s confusion. Were they not at all worried of getting caught in the crossfire? Amiya’s ears shrink back as an explosion shatters the air, a giant ball of fire shooting upward at the end of the street. The truck of the helmeted Sankta(?) had flipped, a giant smoking hole torn into the side.
“Damn those Task Force bastards!”
One of them shouted, taking up formation. Bullets fly as the Task Force caught up, all in matching black blouses and skirts with red highlights. Not a single piece of armor in sight, they looked to be more like students at some school rather than any kind of police force. Yet the firearms they wielded looked as advanced as any cutting edge Laterano rifle, weapons worthy of the Gun Apostles themselves.
“Give yourself up, Helmet Gang! There’s nowhere to run!”
From the very back, a single shot rings out, tearing through what remains of the truck. The Helmet Gang shouts in fear, scrambling to run away as the truck explodes. Yet the explosion is too quick, and all 5 of them are engulfed in flames. Amiya’s breath catches in her throat, appalled at the apparent cheering of the onlookers. They just witnessed five people burn to death, yet they don’t seem to care in the slightest. Yet as the flames die down, she gasps as each of the Helmet Gang appear. They’ve all fallen face first onto the ground, their helmets and visors all cracked, yet aside from some burned clothes and oil staining their skins, they all seemed relatively unharmed.
What is going on? Amiya couldn’t help wondering.
The Task Force approaches the fallen Helmet Gang, handcuffs in hand. Most accepted the handcuffs without struggle, yet one particularly spirited member raised her gun, firing at the Task Force member. Amiya’s ears flatten against her head, not wanting to see the violence that was about to occur.
“Ow! How dare you?!”
Amiya’s eyes open in shock. Not only was the girl that was shot still alive, she wasn’t injured in the slightest. There wasn’t even a bruise where the bullet had struck. “You’ll pay for that!” The girl unholsters a pistol and empties the entire mag onto the Helmet Gang Member’s head.
“Owowowow ok I’m sorry ow please stop ow!”
The Helmet Gang member rubs her head, as if she had merely bumped it against a wall. Amiya watches in disbelief as the Helmet Gang are carted away. She scratches her head in confusion. Maybe they weren’t real bullets… but that didn’t make sense—she’d seen one tear through an entire truck. Their firepower was no joke.
Amiya’s mind drifted as she strolled around, mindlessly passing through bustling streets. She passed busy cafes, restaurants, and elaborate clothing stores. Her nose perked at the aroma of sugar-filled coffee and sweet cakes, her watering mouth urging her closer to a nearby store. The hustle and bustle rivaled Dossoles during the summer. The nearby shootout hadn’t dampened the mood at all, as if it were a normal and common-place. Though, to be fair, there was no damage done from the event. Looking back, even the flaming truck had already been efficiently removed, the roads fresh as if nothing had happened. A lackadaisical, no harm no foul attitude permeated the city.
Relaxed, casual jazz greeted Amiya’s ears as she opened the door to the cafe. The cafe was fairly populated, mostly well-dressed Sankta(?) girls filling the table as they sipped away on coffee and tea and snacking on slices of delicate, airy cake. They paid no heed to Amiya, focused more intently on idle gossip or their phones.
“Hello, welcome! What would you like today, miss?”
A young girl, who couldn’t be much older than Amiya herself, greeted her as she stepped up to the counter. Amiya gives a glance around the menu, relieved she could read it, before answering.
“A slice of the carrot cake, please.”
“Coming right up, miss! That’ll be 10,000 credits please!”
Amiya stared blankly at the girl. “Credits…? Um, let me see…”
Amiya fished around her jacket pocket, eventually finding her wallet. Her fingers peruse the blue LMD and columbian certificates. Of course, she wouldn’t have any of the local currency, wherever this was… “Do… do you accept Lungmen Dollars? Or Certificates…?” Amiya sheepishly asked, a nervous laugh escaping her.
The cashier girl gives Amiya a quizzical look, a blank, confused expression on her face. “I’m sorry, miss, I don’t think I know what they are…”
Amiya frantically searched her wallet again, though she knows she’ll find nothing. “Sorry… I don’t have any…”
Amiya, back slumped in sadness, turned away. The cashier gave her a sympathetic yet pitiful wave, wishing her a good day. A disappointed sigh escaped Amiya. That carrot cake looked so good, too. Just as she reached for the door, she was knocked backwards, the door blown to smithereens.
“Hand over the ‘Le Reeve de Hours!” A short, red haired girl shouts.
“It’s Le Reve d’Or, Junko…” A gray haired girl corrects, flicking the red haired girl's forehead.
Two more girls follow suit, a blonde girl and a white-haired girl, each of them waving around their guns. The rest of the cafe goers panic, hiding away from these intruders.
“The Gourmet Research Society…” One of them whispers. “But what are they doing at Trinity?”
The cashier jumps up, pointing her pistol at the intruders.
“You won’t be getting anything! Those cakes aren't for miscreants like you!”
“Bleh-”
Before she can fire a shot, she's knocked to the ground, shot in the face by the gray haired girl. Amiya rushes to her side, checking for injuries. Yet except for a small mark on her forehead, she was completely uninjured.
“How dare you?!” Amiya shouts, stretching out her hand.
The four girls turn to look at Amiya in shock. Before they had a chance to respond, a black ball shoots forward, knocking Junko to the ground.
“Junko!” The gray haired girl shouts.
The rest of the group all point their guns at Amiya and open fire, but their bullets never reach her. A rhombus of black manifests in the air before Amiya, blocking any bullets. Constant, repeated fire from the three doesn’t leave a scratch.
“What the hell is that?”
Before they had a chance to reload, two more shots from Amiya’s Arts knocked down two more.
“Izumi, Akari! Damn it!”
“Run… Haruna… she’s too… strong… bleh.”
The blonde haired girl, Akari urges before falling unconscious. Haruna couldn’t retreat, though. She had to avenge her fellow Gourmets. She leapt behind a table, a makeshift cover to give her time to reload. She looked over the table, unloading another magazine all over the cafe, only for all her bullets to be blocked yet again. One more shot from Amiya, and Haruna joined the rest of the Gourmet Society in unconsciousness. Amiya glances back at the rest of the cafe goers.
“Is everyone ok?” The cafe goers mutter amongst themselves, some of them even snapping pictures of Amiya to post online or share with friends later.
“No, we’re all okay…”
“That’s good.”
Amiya lets out a sigh of relief. Just as Amiya’s relief settled in, the screech of brakes sounded outside the café. Flashing red and blue lights filled the windows, and a line of sleek, black cars pulled up. Doors flew open, and uniformed officers stepped out, each one leveling a gun directly at her. The Justice Task Force had arrived.