Chaos at Mooncents

{thought}

[text/video/call]

(Action)

"Expression through Writing and talking"

-Point of View (POV) author notes- 

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-3rd person pov-

In the junkyard 

Inside a rusted metal shipping container tucked away in a vast junkyard, a young man with messy, jet-black hair that shimmered with a green-blue hue lay sprawled on a battered couch, sound asleep. Suddenly, a deafening explosion echoed through the yard, jolting him awake and sending him tumbling off the couch with a groan. Groggily, he pushed himself up, stretching his limbs as his amber-yellow eyes blinked open.

With a sigh, he reached for a peculiar watch that resembled a slot machine, complete with a lever, and strapped it to his wrist. Without hesitation, he made his way to the bathroom—if you could call it that. It was nothing more than a portable toilet bolted to the side of another decrepit shipping container.

Stepping inside, he brushed his teeth while simultaneously attempting to wash up, as the shower consisted of little more than a garden hose with a showerhead haphazardly duct-taped to the ceiling. The water sprayed unpredictably, but it did the job. Just as he was rinsing off, a loud metallic knock echoed from outside, breaking the rhythm of his makeshift routine

???: "Rento ye finally decided tae wake up huh?weel hurry up yer expired cereal ain't getting fresher"

Rento:(annoyed slightly)"Mina it's 6:00am"

Mina:"so fucking what laddie shun don't even sleep and he's doing fine watching his anime all night on his noodle powered servers "

Rento, now freshly washed and dressed, stepped out of the makeshift bathroom. He wore his usual black short-sleeved hoodie with the bold white letters "IJ" printed across the front, paired with loose black shorts and high-top sneakers in black, white, and red, marked with bold branding and a rugged, stylish flair. He strapped the slot machine watch back onto his wrist with a practiced motion before heading toward the "kitchen."

The so-called kitchen was as cobbled-together as the rest of his hideout—a mini fridge that hummed like a dying animal, a hot plate balanced on a car tire, and a "sink" made from a hose snaking in through a window, dripping into a bucket with a hole in the bottom that led who-knows-where.

Opening a creaky cabinet, Rento grabbed a spoon, then made his way to a weathered poker table. Waiting there were his two companions.

Mina sat casually, her vibrant red hair pulled into a messy bun, loose strands framing her face. Large black sunglasses obscured her eyes, and she wore a white crop top knotted at the waist beneath a green-and-red jacket, left open to show her toned midriff. Her dark denim shorts were cinched with a brown belt, and a black glove adorned one hand, a choker necklace completing the look.

Beside her was Shun, practically bouncing in his seat. The energetic otaku wore glasses and a black hoodie with a red and white design. His black shorts matched his hoodie, and a bright red backpack was slung over his chair, always close at hand.Without a word, Rento joined them at the table.

Rento:"so what exploded this time?"

Shun:"just something Mina made that exploded"

Mina: "Twas a bleedin' toaster hoverboard, it was! Worked fur a few seconds, pal, an' yet—it worked nether-less! I just need tae make me usual improvements, lik' always, ken?"

Rento:(eats Stale vegetable straight lines cereal) "hmm do you know where my laptop is I need to go to Mooncents to do editing"

Shun:(slurping expired noodles)"should be in the mini fridge it overheated somehow and Mina used it to cook eggs"

Mina: "It was bleedin' delicious, lad! Now off ye go an' fix up that daft wee watch o' yours!"

Rento strolled over to the mini fridge and tugged it open—not for food, but to retrieve his battered old laptop, tucked inside like it belonged there. He grabbed his keys from the top shelf, then stepped out of the shipping container and into the daylight, where his true ride awaited: a run-down ice cream truck gifted to him by Mina.

The truck was a mechanical tragedy. Duct tape crisscrossed the hood in a desperate attempt to keep it together, and every so often, without warning, it would blast a warped, demonic version of Pop Goes the Weasel from its speakers. There was no mute button. No mercy.

Climbing into the driver's seat, Rento turned the key and the engine sputtered to life like a sick animal refusing to give up. He pulled out of the junkyard and onto the street, weaving into a city that, at first glance, looked ordinary—until you noticed the dinosaur people.

A Euoplocephalus in a stretched-out t-shirt casually walked a pack of poodles. A Pachycephalosaurus zipped past on a skateboard, wearing shades like he owned the sidewalk. Overhead, a massive billboard loomed with a well-dressed Spinosaurus wearing a suit, tie, and monocle, pointing authoritatively beneath bold letters that read: I WANT ALL CLAWS ON DECK.

After a few minutes of erratic driving—and narrowly avoiding a couple spontaneous fires—Rento pulled up to his destination: a dingy little café with a flickering neon sign that once proudly read Mooncents. Now, with a few dead bulbs, it just said Moots. Despite the sketchy look, it had one thing going for it: surprisingly good WiFi.

Rento: "let's hope they have a discount"

The moment Rento stepped into Mooncents, he was hit with the scent of burnt beans, sour milk, and mild despair. The place looked less like a café and more like the aftermath of a caffeine-fueled crime scene.

In the far corner, an espresso machine was actively on fire, flames licking up the side as whipped cream oozed down its front like molten lava from a sugary volcano. No one seemed alarmed.

A Velociraptor janitor—wearing a stained bandana and the thousand-yard stare of someone who'd seen too much—was aggressively scrubbing a massive coffee spill that had somehow spread across half the floor. Beside him, a human janitor tried valiantly to mop the sticky mess, but the mop kept getting stuck. So did his shoes. And once, his hand.

Every step Rento took was met with a moist squelch, like the floor itself was protesting his presence. Tables were either half-wiped or completely abandoned, chairs mismatched and askew. It was a disaster wrapped in the smell of roasted regret.But still—two things made Mooncents worth it: dirt-cheap coffee and Wi-Fi fast enough to stream bug documentaries in HD.

Velociraptor janitor: (hissing)"Terry This stain's been here since Tuesday! I quit if it develops sentience!"

Human janitor:"you know what you signed up for when you took the job Jerry"

Barista:(dead inside) "welcome to Mooncents how may I take your order"

Rento:"just a frappe and a booth"

Barista:"that'll be 50 Dino bucks in total" 

With a bored expression and frappe in hand, Rento shuffled his way to a sticky booth that squeaked in protest as he sat down. He balanced his busted laptop on the table, typed in the Wi-Fi labeled "MOONCENTS_GUEST_DON'T_SUE_US", and somehow, miraculously, connected.

Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a tangled AUX cord and plugged one end into the laptop, the other into his slot machine watch. A flicker of static buzzed through the connection before a glitchy screen popped up on the monitor—an old-school RPG-style character customization menu labeled Bug Editor, complete with 8-bit graphics, clunky UI, and a pixelated beetle awkwardly T-posing in the center.

The customization options were limited and mostly broken—"Antenna Length" kept resetting to 999, and "Color Pattern" flickered violently between neon green and error messages. Still, Rento navigated it with practiced ease, sipping from his frappe as he worked.

It tasted like cold coffee, artificial whipped topping, and just a dash of existential dread. Perfect.

Rento: (muttering)"I should probably speed up the coiling and unraveling process when I get giraffe weevil and definitely need to increase Brain power to process high speed from tiger beetle"

Rento typed furiously, hunched over the flickering screen of his struggling laptop. He fine-tuned insect traits, dragging sliders that barely worked and hammering keys to stop the screen from freezing every few minutes. An hour passed like molasses—buggy menus, laggy animations, and random glitch pop-ups slowing him down—but finally, he leaned back, satisfied. With a click of the Submit button, the laptop let out a soft wheeze and started smoking from the vents.

Totally normal.

Without warning, the lever on his slot machine watch yanked itself down, making a mechanical ka-chunk as the reels began spinning. One by one, they clicked into place:

Tiger Beetle. Giraffe Weevil. Flea.

Rento didn't flinch. Just let out a slow, tired sigh, detached the AUX cord, and strapped the watch back on.

Immediately, his arms elongated, coiling like thick cables and slapping against the sticky café floor. They wound back up, giving him the illusion of normal-length arms. His legs began to twitch violently, energy surging through his system like he just injected pure chaos. It was as if someone had blended blue cow energy drink with triple-shot espresso and pumped it directly into his bloodstream.

Then he was gone.

In a blur of motion, Rento zipped around Mooncents, knocking over chairs, rattling tables, and sending loose napkins flying like confetti. The Velociraptor janitor dropped his mop in defeat. The human janitor just stared. The espresso machine, still on fire, didn't seem to mind.

Chaos had arrived—and his name was Rento.

Rento:"I will run run run to the moon and I won't stop till I drop"

Rento ricocheted around Mooncents like a caffeinated pinball, his movements erratic and blindingly fast. He bounced off walls, spun through hanging light fixtures, and even rebounded off the espresso machine—still on fire and now somehow screaming in steam.

Just then, the front doors burst open with a bang.

A gang of humans and dinosaur people stormed in, decked out in ragged gear and wielding laser guns, ready to rob the place. One had a ski mask over his snout. Another—a Dilophosaurus—wore shades indoors like it was intimidation tactics.

But they didn't even get a chance to shout their demands.

THWACK.

Rento tore through them like a human bowling ball, arms stretching and coiling mid-sprint, legs twitching with raw speed. He spun, flipped, crashed, and smashed his way through the would-be robbers, knocking them down like pins in a cosmic game of caffeine-fueled bowling.

The final touch? The sticky floor of Mooncents.

As the robbers tried to recover, they found themselves unable to move. Their feet, hands, tails—everything—was glued to the ground. The more they struggled, the more they stuck, like bugs trapped in fly paper. One laser gun fired accidentally into the ceiling, sparking a light fixture, but no one could aim anything now.

In under ten seconds, the robbery was over—and Rento, still jittery, was bouncing in place, sipping his depressing frappe like it was just another Monday

Rento:"KO I didn't even use Roly-poly"

Barista:(still dead inside) "thank you for saving us"

Rento:"just doing my thing but since I saved it I acquire payment"

Barista:"I'll give you 50 Dino bucks,a 3 day coupon for free coffee, and a broken vending machine that's outside would that be enough?"

Rento:"good enough and am taking the laser guns I know Mina would go crazy and thank me or suplex me"

With the would-be robbers still glued to the floor, Rento casually scooped up their scattered laser guns, slinging them into a duffel bag that hadn't existed five seconds ago. From the counter, he snagged his well-earned 50 Dino Bucks and a crumpled 3-day coupon for free coffee, stuffing both into his pocket like it was just part of the routine.

As he exited Mooncents, the door creaked behind him—and there it was.

The broken vending machine the barista had gifted him , still sitting half-toppled against the wall like it had lost the will to vend. Rento walked up to it, cracked his neck, and—without ceremony—lifted it with his bare hands. Muscles bulged. The machine groaned in protest. But he didn't care.

He dragged it over to the ice cream truck, which immediately began its usual horror soundtrack—Pop Goes the Weasel, slowed and warped into something straight out of a nightmare.

Rento attempted to wedge the vending machine into the back, but it only fit halfway in. So, naturally, he whipped out a roll of duct tape and a coil of rope from somewhere in the abyss that was his truck, securing the machine like it was just another day in his wonderfully chaotic life.

Satisfied with his work, he pulled the lever on his slot machine watch. The reels spun, clicked, and then went dark. His twitching ceased. His arms snapped back to their normal length with a satisfying whip.

Without a word, Rento climbed into the driver's seat, kicked the truck into gear, and drove off—demonsong blaring—back toward the junkyard

Human 1:"is that the bug guy who eats people's eyes?"

Triceratops:"no that's bugged out guy that's part time bug hero the one with that hilarious costume he wears"

Human2:"oh yeah he's the one who wants payment before helping"

Triceratops:" so are you guys ready for the new Sara blaze bikini costume?"

The ice cream truck rumbled its way back into the junkyard like a dying beast returning to its lair. Rento pulled into his usual spot beside the tilted pile of microwaves and rusted scooters. The moment he threw it into park, the wheels exploded—all four of them. Rubber and metal clattered across the gravel like a bad joke.

Rento didn't flinch. He just stared for a second, gave a tired nod, and muttered to himself without actually speaking. Mina would handle it. She had the uncanny Scottish ability to fix anything with nothing but tape, rage, and possibly a wrench she found in someone else's car.

He stepped over the wreckage and ducked into the shipping container.

Inside, the scent of scorched toast, motor oil, and bubblegum hit him like a warm, chaotic hug. But what made him pause wasn't the mess. It was Shun.

The otaku was standing in the middle of the room, practically vibrating with excitement, a wide grin on his face. Behind him stood a large object, completely concealed beneath a curtain that looked suspiciously like it had once been a shower liner. A shiver crept down Rento's spine.He knew that look.

That was the look. The "I've made something and you're going to regret it, but I'm too proud to care" look.

And there was no escape

Shun:(poses)"Rento I the great and smart shun have made you a new hero costume (pulls the curtain off) behold BUG KNIGHT OVERDRIVE: MECHA FLAME JET ARMS MK IV – LEGENDARY CHRYSALIS VERSION X"

With a dramatic fwoosh, Shun yanked the curtain off like he was unveiling a priceless artifact at a fan convention—and what stood beneath was anything but subtle.

Behold:"OVERDRIVE: MECHA FLAME JET ARMS MK IV – LEGENDARY CHRYSALIS VERSION X"

…and it looked exactly like its name sounded.

The suit blazed with color—neon bug slime green and fiery orange, so reflective it nearly lit the room up on its own. Just looking at it felt like being flashbanged by a rave that went to the gym five days a week.

The helmet, shaped like a stylized beetle horn, had retractable antennae that could double as Wi-Fi extenders. Because of course they did.

Shoulder pads, molded after mantis claws, flexed open to reveal glitter cannons—non-lethal but highly inconvenient.

The chest plate featured a digital screen that constantly displayed "Bug Power Level: 999+", because intimidation matters more than accuracy.

Jet gauntlets lined the arms, upgraded for Bombardier Beetle chaos, complete with Flame Bloom Mode—just press a button and whoosh, hibachi table energy.

Trailing behind, a cape made of shimmering faux insect wings softly hummed with every breeze, purely for flair.

The boots were flea-jump boosters, but with the added feature of a high-pitched "BOING" every time Rento leapt—because subtlety was never on the table.

And pinned to the chest, a massive name tag, proudly declaring:"Hi, I'm: The Bug Knight Overdrive – Flame Jet Bug Hero (Do Not Touch Wings)"

The room was silent. Shiny. Awkward. Radiating unbearable secondhand embarrassment.

And Shun? Shun was glowing with joy

Rento:".....it's something"

Shun:(vibrating in excitement) "yes and I added a cup holder"

Rento:"okay"

Shun:"what do you think?"(sparkling eyes)

Rento:"things good things"

Rento stared at the hero suit—if it deserved to be called that—for a long, soul-questioning second, then silently picked it up like someone accepting their fate. Without a word, he shuffled over to the mini fridge, opened it with a squeak, and stuffed his overheating laptop inside like he was tucking it in for a nap. The fridge hummed in protest, possibly dying, but that was tomorrow's problem.

He made his way to the back of the container, reaching the makeshift door: a bus door, bolted onto hinges, glass fully painted over in blotchy black so no one could peek in. It creaked open with the sound of a tired groan, revealing his "room."

Just a small, cramped corner of the shipping container—but it was his.

Two towering fridges formed L-shaped walls, buzzing faintly.

A platform bed, made from a couple stacks of old tires with a wooden board across the top, sat at the center, covered in beanbags of mismatched colors and questionable fluff levels.

A broken shelf drooped in one corner, cluttered with battered manga volumes, dog-eared and loved.A tiny TV sat crooked on a cinder block, still displaying static from the last time it was used.

Rento tossed the blinding hero suit into the corner like it was haunted and let the duffle bag slump to the floor with a dull thud. Then, without changing, without thinking, he collapsed onto his beanbag bed.

The sigh that escaped him wasn't tired—it was legendary

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Dino bucks earned:50

Dino bucks total:150

Loot:laser guns, a 3 day coupon for free coffee, a broken vending machine,hero suit

Characters

Mina

Shun

Rento