Chapter XX

Content Warning:

-Transphobia

-Conspiracy crap

-Suicidal references

-Anti Sex Worker rhetoric

-Strong language

-Fascist imagery

["She continued to speak. I listened to her every word, but I couldn't write a single thing down. All my hands could do was shake. I've tried not to think of that day, but one thing said haunts my dreams… 'the Mondgreif will see you now',"].

Chapter XX

Lynception{reference to the film, Inception, directed by Christopher Nolan}

AKT I

Amara

Exhaust and smoke filled the streets of Reisenest. Factories loomed above everything, bridge buildings let out burning smoke from fireplaces, vehicles ripped from the 1910s, all of these things clouded up the streets. There was so much fog and smoke, that little light entered the city, as did little heat.

Street lamps had to be lit so that people could see a thing. If people weren't trapped in those steel death traps, they were forced into those restrictive lanes on the side: Sidewalks. They wandered to and fro, masks on their faces to deal with the smoke. 

When they weren't trudging their way to work, they were exhausted, sitting down in cafes, shops, and other places, taking a moment's rest. Amongst them all was a small, green telephone box. People kept their distance from it, not wanting to deal with the noise.

"Yes…Yes boss….I'll get it done, don't you worry….I understand, yes the deadlines are really tough, but I can…I can make it ma'am…I have to go to lunch….understood, I'll talk to you afterwards," responded a voice like a domesticated raccoon from the country.

She got out of the telephone box. She had black hair in pigtails, yellow eyes, and pale skin. She was incredibly short and wore a lime green winter dress coat. She sighed and took a deep breath.

Her eyes widened, she saw Lyn right in front of her. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and then Lyn was gone. She looked left and right.

She walked up to someone else in the street, "Hey, didja see a mede here?"

"'Re ya cattywampus?" they responded, walking away in disbelief.

She shrugged and went on her way. Not too far down the street was the 'Queenless Cafe' with its heavy Drescher branding. The young woman forced a great smile and clawed at the air multiple times.

She went inside, the bitter smell of coffee in the air. The cafe was mighty thin, with a long counter and a long, cushioned bench. There were a few tables with radios on them, but not much space. A lot of people were actually sitting on the tables because of how cramped together everything was.

In the corner, she saw a pair of people that waved to her. One was a lad in a brown suit with a light beard of brown hair. One was a woman in a blue jean jacket with blonde hair in a tiny ponytail. They both had rings. She waved back to them and walked over.

"It's good to see you two," she exclaimed, sitting on the table in front of them.

"Yer not going to get any coffee?" The blonde asked, setting aside her's.

"I'm good I'm good, I don't need the energy anyways," she responded, gently moving the coffee over to her. "Is Armina late again?"

"Always," the man remarked, placing his feet on the-.

"Feet down, Arnold," the blonde ordered.

"Yes Arturia," he responded, lowering his feet and straightening his back.

"Ya can always walk back the marriage now," the girl chuckled.

"But the benefits…..," they both sighed.

"That reminds me, Amara," Arturia commented. "Yer job don't involve a set workplace right,"

"I am not helpin' take care of yer Dad," Amara responded, pouting and turning her head to the side.

"Pleeeease," Arnold insisted, placing his hands together. "They raised rent again an' I have to find a job. Do ya know how hard it is fer a man to find a job these days?"

"That paper got rejected last month," Amara commented.

"Toldja it would," A voice like an empty coffin criticised.

"Late as always," Arnold sighed.

A coffee was placed right next to Amara. 

Kneeling down was a taller woman that resembled Amara's skin and hair colour. She had short, shoulder length hair though. She was dressed in a grey gilet, a white long sleeve shirt, jeans, and brown boots.

"What held you up?" Arturia asked, taking a drink.

"Coffee," Armina stated, glancing at Amara. "Black like ya prefer. I had to get a second though, somebody took the first,"

"Th-thanks," Amara exclaimed.

A radio went off nearby. Amara instinctively turned on theirs. Armina rolled her eyes.

"Gooood moooorning my Adlernesti friends and family. This is the National Drescher Radio," a condescendingly happy voice exclaimed.

"It's your hosts, Adolpha and Donna," a maddeningly happy voice added.

"Looking to have a baby, well sucks to be you. You'll be waiting a lot longer,"

"The studies are in: the rate of pregnancies that make it to term have dropped below 50 percent,"

"FIFTY PERCENT!? How did that happen Donna?" asked the condescending voice.

"'There just aren't enough White Fragments to go around' is the theory. I think it's those pesky Northerners. They can't defeat us fair and square, so they're hogging all of the white fragments for themselves. They're outbreeding us," prattled on the maddening voice

"Sounds plausible to me. Though let's be realistic, the White Fragments are angry with us,"

"What are you trying to say, Adolpha?"

"We live in a world filled with degeneracy and evil, why would White Fragments want to be born? There are nations out there that allow prostitutes to walk about freely. They'll pervert the bodies that the White Fragments formed with sex changes. Heck, they'll sell artificial White Fragments now!"

"That's insane,"

"Exactly, why would any White Fragment want to be born in a world like that. We need traditional, family values if we want the White Fragments to return. And we need to get rid of all of these prostitutes and transexuals,"

"Don't rule out cleaning up the North,"

Armina turned off their radio, "That's enough of that,"

"Hey, I was listening to that!" Amara exclaimed.

Arturia and Arnold looked at each other awkwardly. They sighed.

"How can you?" Armina questioned.

Amara stood up, "It's my responsibility as an Adlernesti citizen,"

"No it's not," Armina argued.

Arturia and Arnold slipped away while they argued. 

"I was born and raised here,"

"So the circumstances of yer birth should dictate yer loyalties?"

"Of course not! This is just the greatest nation on Triginta-!"

"Accordin' to who? I've read yer papers Amara, even the rejected ones,"

"It just is!"

A barista approached them, "'scuse me ladies, y'all 're makin' a scene,"

"'Pologies ma'am," Armina responded, standing up and giving a nod. "Amara let's go,"

Amara groaned and followed.

The two sisters walked out into the city. Armina stood by a lamp post and lit another cigarette.

"Ya can't keep doin' this,"

"Doin' what?!" Amara exclaimed, red in the face. "If it weren't for the state, we'd 've died in the streets!"

"You know that's not true," she responded, shaking her head.

"Don't tell me what I know!"

"I think we should move," Armina suggested, letting out some smoke.

"And where would we go," she exclaimed, looking down, her fists clenched.

"Rem,"

She chuckled awkwardly, "ya know 'bout that place. I ain't goin'-,"

"It'd be good fer ya," She assured, placing a hand on Amara's shoulder 

"Don't talk 'bout what's good fer me," she pulled away. "I got ya a job,"

"Sellin' newspapers,"

"A job is a job!" she exclaimed, darting her arms, legs, and head around. "There's only so much fer someone who didn't go to school!"

"(Fuck those dreschers)," a passerby mumbled.

"KILL YOURSELF OLD MAN!" Amara exclaimed, giving the person the finger. "Your a traitor to-!"

"Amara," Armina stated, narrowing her eyes.

"I'm just standing up for our great leader!"

"Then why are you justifyin' that behavior?" she asked, lighting a new cigarette. "Is that what they taught ya in school,"

"TO BE A PATRIOT! They taught me to be a patriot!"

"The City of Rem has a micro city that's not ruled by Adlernest, Zvezdy, or RNM. All we gotta do is-,"

"I'm not going to the City of Rem!" Amara blew up.

"Amara…,"

"I have to take a call for work," she stated, heading off, her hands shaking. "I'll see ya latte…,"

Amara travelled down the sidewalk, leaving Armina in the fog. She eventually came across a green telephone box. She took a deep breath and looked around awkwardly.

She felt something touch her forehead. It was cold, like she was touched by death's bone-y hands.

She shrugged it off and went inside. She placed a blue tile in and picked up the phone.

"Oy there, moron,"

"Did I get a wrong-,"

"This i not a wrong number Patridiot,"

"What did ya call-?!"

"Keep up, Patridiot. The name's animas tenebrarum," Lyn lied as she breathed.

Amara felt a chill down her spine, "The Dream Hunter…?"

"The one and only,"

"B-b-but I'm such a good girl. I haven't done nothin' wrong in ma life, I swear,"

"Don't swear, it's bad," Lyn replied.

"Wait…why does animas tenebrarum have a north nimuen accent?" She questioned, looking up.

"Bigger question lassie, why did ya have to justify yerself havin' to be a good girl? Ya haven't done anythin' wrong have ya?" she questioned.

"Th-This is just some prank call. Hang up, I need to chat with my bosses," Amara exclaimed.

"It doesn't matter to me anyhow, Patridiot," Lyn remarked. "We Signa Mortis don't judge people based on how 'good' they are. We judge 'em based on how they treat their White Fragments. How're ya treatin' your's lass?"

She hung up. She put in a new tile and tried again.

"Hanging up ain't gonna shoogle{shake} me, Patridiot,"

"How-?!"

"Listen up, open the door to the phone booth,"

She opened it, "What on Triginta Octo…?"

The outside city had changed. It became a series of steel towers with the Drescher Logo on them. The towers were black and stood ever so tall, they were the one constant, as everything else was shifting and distorting.

"What do ya want?" she asked anxiously.

"I need to know if your treatin' your white fragment right. If the answer's no, it's gonna be rough,"

Amara fell to her knees and placed her hands on her head, "this can't be happenin' this can't be happenin' this can't be happenin',"

"OY!" Lyn called out. "Time is of the essence, Patridiot!"

A fog slipped out of the phone. She was a purple cloak with a body and scarf of white fog. Her eyes were tiny, black slits.

She raised her right hand and shot out a portal. She grabbed Amara and dashed towards it.

"Come on! It's time to play!"

"WAIT, WHERE 'RE YOU TAKIN' ME?!" She scrambled, trying to break free.

"That's the fun part, Patridiot. I have no flippin' idea!"

They leapt through the portal. Behind them, one of the Drescher symbols began to flash like an alarm.

To Be Continued...….