Dark yet strong cyan light floods through the gates, washing the canvas in such an overwhelming hue that it permeates throughout the white walls and nearly drowns the yellow, pink, and green leaves of the plants standing by. Their individual colors are still well present of course, but with the additional layer of shielding in light and warmth provided by the blue, allowing them to sway ever so slightly as if free in nature's current.

Despite there being an exquisitely designed long golden chandelier levitating just below the white ceiling providing its own light, it’s heavily overshadowed by the evening cyan, for even the smooth golden body is drenched in that same embracing tone. Perfectly stable as though grounded meticulously, the chandelier remains in place without so much as a waver, silent as it still emits an unseen light.

Off the crystallic blued white floors the light is reflected in scatters, textured like the sea in calm waves unprovoked, restful and relaxed. It makes no motion, which logically is due to not genuinely having the natural properties of a water body specifically its movements in sways, although that stillness in itself rather a shatter of illusion is instead a perpetuation of the same serenity, absolutely unharmed, unbothered, that it does not so as much wash over itself.

Precisely the most absorbent color in the same oceanic texture stands the black surface of the long tabletop, also unwavering and still, silent and calm.

The surface is not vacant however, for residing on it are three sets of dinnerware, each composed of a smooth circular plate white as pure– its edges defined elegantly sharp yet welcomingly smooth– accompanied by a glassy transparent cup allowing visibility of the water nearly just as clear being housed inside. Further added to the sets are a pair of silverware that is a knife and spoon per set each made of a perfectly smooth metal that shines just so flawlessly both of which sit on the side of the plate opposite of the cup. The butter knife has a smooth curve along its blade with just slight ridges for grit, and the spoon’s bowl is modestly curved yet not particularly shallow.

Those plates are not bare either, for on them are personal buffets of enticing seafood boils of varying proportions, cooked to perfection mixing calamari, shrimp, mussels, crabs, ingredients of the sea joined with crops of land exemplified by the bits of corn.

An appetizing dish and one with a benevolently surplus source that being the central long black pan in the center of the table, housing more of the boil but with greater quantity, inviting more helpings by the woodlike ladle nested within, its handle standing tall.

Yet regardless of the fancy dish laid out on the table, there was utter silence, and a definite lack of presence. While there is clearly an intention for a party with food enough for a family, there are no discernible attendees; nothing to hold the silverware, nothing to consume from the plates. So warm yet so hollow, so decorated yet so unlively, there most definitely is a piece missing, arguably the one most defining of the scene.

In heavily dragged yet paradoxically silent footsteps moves it, down the wide long corridor floored with the same white crystallic texture below the soft white walls. For vastly longer the hall extends to, branching off into numerous doorways like the stem of a great tree, all of them with their own continuation of diverging paths all originated from the same roots.

Albeit presented with an infinity of divergences, the immediately proximate one is favored by an ambling right turn, the heaving of the posture indicated by the sways forth and back of the body, exuding fatigue and exhaustion.

At the turn is one of the doorways, the branching paths, welcoming with an arched doorway so elegant; so ethereal.

Facing the doorway, again it ambles now straight through the aperture, stepping into the larger white room drowned in cyan from the opposite wall’s window screen which sits above the potted plants.

Now inside the room, it takes a turn to the left where it is then presented with the sight of the long black dining table, the table surrounded by the three plumply white cushioned seats levitating at variations to accommodate the statures of the three whom reside in front of their own platter, forks in hand some of their prongs plunged into shrimps and strands of crab meat all at varying positions from the body. The slender man suited in the long brown overcoat has his fork right up to his gaping mouth which he sucks his sampling from whereas the petite woman comforted in the oversized white and pink hoodie has her fork held up in the air above the plate carrying corn in the bowl of her spoon whilst lastly the mature woman sported in the sleek black blazer has her fork sitting on the plate in intermission between bites.

Chatter and clangs abruptly consume the room, grunts of delight from the senile man whose head shines bald with content yellow irises while getting sarcastically mocked in murmurs from the glowing woman whose head drapes a shower of pink hairs colored same to her shimmering irises although is being eyed across the table by the sagacious woman with a more moderate bowl of amber hair groomed to the sides intently to present her entranced green eyes.

Yet simultaneously all the chatter cuts just as abruptly as it started, and all three at the dinner table turn to the enterer, all of them immediately then shining welcoming smiles to varying cleanliness ranging from the green eyed woman’s gentle invitation to the yellow eyed man’s raw display of teeth netting bits of food unashamedly.

Through the glimmering azure calm oasis of the irises on the pale white wrinkled face in front of the four bundled locks of thin white hairs, the man dressed in the grayed black leather biker jacket with silver accents and linings along the sleeves and sides accompanied by simplistic long black pants with gray streaks stands forth at the company of the dining table, facing straight on initially silent as the rest.

Standing before the center of the table the man gazes while all three of those already at the table gaze back, the backs of their heads exposed to the other side of the table, waiting in anticipation, initially almost like hawks or better yet vultures.

Below the table the man’s soles stand on the oceanic surface still, above the surface film, his white locks brushing behind his head as he surveys those facing him.

Lit in the cyan hue of the warm rays passing through the screen, all four glow the same as the floor in the frozen moment, the three sitting facing the standing man over the surface.

It is then when the man makes the choice to take a step forward, and then another, and steadily stroll his way to the other side of the table where the amber haired woman is seated, his steps silent yet no longer so heavy and drained.

Upon approaching the woman’s side across the old man, the man in the jacket swiftly initiates a sitting motion on air, but in the motion flashes a blue light behind him manifesting a white cushioned chair perfectly for his height, providing him the same comfort that he sinks into before straightening his posture.

Now the four sit at the table together, and before the man– on the black crystallic tabletop– additional few yet smaller lights flash which summon a platter set: a clear white plate accompanied on one side with a glassy cup and on the other side a silverware set of a fork, spoon, and knife.

All four now seated with their platter, the senile man leans forward and plunges his fork back into his plate for another bite in breakage of silence with an offhand mention, “Damn this is refreshing, especially after such a long and tiresome day!” only to be instantly countered by the woman with pink hair who glances at him and reminds, “You didn’t do anything today!”

“Excuse me, as an entrepreneur my life is always on the move, there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t do anything,” contends back the voice of Ekitai on the other side as Dana turns her head towards the man with a soft, angelic smile before then warmly asking: “You want some? There’s more than enough even after the calculations of Ekitai’s additional helpings!”

Despite the wholesome offer, the man shakes his head horizontally before explaining in a soft tone, “I’m good, thanks. I’m only here for a…short intermission between search sessions. After four minutes I plan to return to The Pad to continue my assignments.”

Yet across the table after being argued by Kokei’s refutation of: “Being an entrepreneur is different from being unemployed!” Ekitai turns his gaze to the man somewhat in negligence to the destruction of his fragile argument and in anticipation for a reset with a wide smile and sudden invitation, “Yo come on, why don’t ya hang out with us for the night? From one driller to another, trust me I know that the pump always comes first in work, but hey don’t all successful people take vacations from time to time?”

He then grabs his cup and holds it in the air, waving it back and forth which sloshes the water as he strangely reasons, “Gotta charge that battery some time, else you gonna drive yourself into the floor. And hey, vacation is always a time for inspiration, so when you get back to the board you’ll be fired up more than ever!!”

An eyebrow raises from the man upon the conflictingly accurate advice, seemingly unsure which is rather understandable given the crude presentation. Beside him Dana first sighs from the choice of initialization to such idea being one that hardly lifted off the runway if not looped and crashed straight into the port, yet in spite of the odds she raises her head up with a turn before awkwardly reinforcing, “Well uh…he’s well…not exactly wrong…actually that’s kinda weirdly deep Ekitai.”

A mixture of a sigh and groan emits from Kokei’s mouth in defeat juxtaposed by Ekitai’s flaring smirk, and concurrently she pleads in a whisper, “Please don’t encourage him Dana” as he exclaims enthusiastically, “See, I’m never wrong!”

Shaking her head with a slight mischievous smile to the little chaos she just stirred so seamlessly, Dana returns her gaze to the man beside her before corroborating in a more earnest tone, “But seriously, you’re always down there working, and really it shouldn’t make sense at all that I’m getting more sleep than you. Come on, just for once take some time off and spend it with us. At least one time is all I’m asking for.”

An apprehension groan pushes from the man with the lowering of his head, clearly disinterested in the prospect of sidelining his work for such leisurely voids. Even after all those missions, the fire hadn’t gone out, and there’s still that persistent determination to keep moving even if there was nowhere to go, for in fact with no path that determination was projected to the search of such a path. The mission to find a new mission. Even when finally after all these years the opportunity to take a break was presented, his core instinct was to keep working.

Funneled straight into the singular thought of productivity, of seeking results from his precious time that could not be spent so lavishly, the man softly queries with the raise of his head, “What exactly would we be doing regardless?”

“Ooh, wait I got it!!” suddenly exclaims the raspy voice of the senile man which grabs the man’s attention with a turn and raised eyebrow again as curiosity always circulated this one enigma.

After sinking his fork straight into his mouth jabbing mussels and slurping it uncomfortably loudly especially being a strange method of consuming the food with the garnered attention of all the three, Ekitai pulls the fork out of his mouth with strands of saliva initially roped between his mouth and fork although splitting off upon the excess distance causing the drool to drape down over the table’s surface.

Ignoring his own mannerisms or lack thereof, Ekitai excitedly proposes with a flashy smile, “Why don’t we watch a movie tonight in my roo- I mean the home theater! The new Beeman movie just came out, I was planning to pira- I mean rent it…legally…on my own but hey if you’re all free then why not watch it all together!”

His smile then slowly fades in the lagged realization of his own plan, and with a lower tone the same with his head plagued by uncertainty he reveals, “Well…only issue I guess is that it’s a sequel so if you haven’t seen the first one you probably won’t understand the references…well also he debuted in Commander France: Revolutionary War so you’d probably need to watch that to actually understand where he’s from…but also to understand that you’d need to watch all the Commander France movies and also to understand them you’d definitely need to see The Vigilantes movies and…hm yeah I guess if you’re not already an avid watcher you probably wouldn’t be able to appreciate the film nearly enough.”

Struck by an order as tall as the cosmos, Kokei blinks her eyes completely awestruck to such a horrifyingly complex list of prerequisites to an activity apparently so relaxing and mindless, one that requires no skill but can be done resting with a mind at ease to be taken on a well contained simple journey. Yet to just the glimmer of all but that, she shakes her head and contends doubtfully, “Wait, huh, I thought those movies weren’t connected to the NCU, wouldn’t he just need to see the first one? Although…wait no that movie’s old I don’t even know what you’re talking about it came out years ago.”

She then giggles mischievously, hovering her hand over her mouth and sneering, “Did you forget the year old man?”

Instantly Ekitai stares straight at Kokei before elucidating in an entirely stern tone, “No, that was the old series back when it was its own thing. Wait, did you not at all hear about Beeman being in the NCU? Didn’t you watch Revolutionary War? It looks like you’re the one living under a rock, Kookie.”

Struck between the eyes by the deflected shot, Kokei’s cheeks flare bright red in embarrassment before she combusts into shouts.

“Well, I-I’m sorry that I have a job and a life and can’t waste my time with such uh such childish things, you dummy!” fights back the voice of Kokei, although now ignoring the escalating flame the man sounds a soft sigh with closed eyes, lowering his head.

Dana glances over to the argument as Ekitai and Kokei yell over each other with neither of their words even comprehensible, and she sighs too with the same closed eye expression as her friend beside her.

Defeat drowns over Dana’s face in the realization of the task’s failure, and she lowers her head, her amber bangs hanging over her face knowing they had just blown their one chance. They had started the battle at the bottom of the hill, with low odds yet at the same time an eager spirit and determination, yet in the end they were kicked back down the hill with their swords broken in two like their spirits.

Silently Dana just wallows in the pain of loss as the voice of the man beside her decides, “Sure, we can watch that,” to which her eyes suddenly burst wide open in utter shock, visible between the bangs covering her face.

Swiftly she raises her head and turns her gaze to the man beside her in awe, finding him to be staring straight across the table with a fully blank, deadpan serious expression, no sign of sarcasm in his words nor his face.

Instantly Ekitai and Kokei silence and face the man, their debate gone violently extinguished so suddenly, both of them also submerged in genuine surprise to the answer they both figured would be one of disappointment.

Kokei remains locked in astonishment with parted lips, yet first to break out is Ekitai with a wide grin and exclamation, “Hey nice, knew I was a good salesman! Won him over just like that!”

Instantly next Kokei jolts her head in a turn to stare at Ekitai with wide, lost eyes, her world views and the logical wiring of the universe completely shattered so suddenly and effortlessly, as though she were nothing but a figment in a dream, an imagination, detached from reality and reasoning.

Dumbfounded Dana stares at the man who wears a blank face, completely calm with a flat mouth and restful eyes. He leans against the white back of his chair, his white locks resting over the cushion.

He shrugs his shoulders before nonchalantly asking, “Why not, I should be able to pick up and follow on the context even if it builds on prior installments. I can spare a night.”

Fired up with the greenlight, Ekitai thrusts himself backwards against the chair–his arms in the air–, causing it to slightly rock to Kokei’s concern, although it then gently rotates upright like a physical rocking chair would.

“Well then, let me get this down the hatch before we go up! I still have to finish my food since I haven’t eaten much yet!” gleefully exclaims Ekitai before he then hunches over the table and starts hastily combing through his remaining boil with his fork and scooping it up into his mouth with the eating speeds of a dog at a bowl.

While Ekitai’s face becomes further sullied in the mess of boil that consistently fails to pass into his mouth, left on his cheeks as face paint, Kokei shakes her head before crying out argumentatively, “Ekitai, isn’t this your fourth batch?”

The question pauses Ekitai, having him straighten his posture as he snags his glassy cup, swaying it and sloshing the water with a smug face as he turns his attention to his apprehensive friend.

Hovering over the aquatic blue still surface in a tranquil state, reflecting the light through the screen which provides a warm cyan hue to the whole room, the four residents all sit at the dinner table together two on each side all across from each other, as while the table was long they were intentionally clumped together.

On one side of the black crystal sits the chipper senile man who thrusts his arm in the air holding his cup while laughing as next to him the shining young woman lunges her arm into his shoulder in a playful scold, her words seeming judgemental yet her actual expression anything but as she wears a visible bright smile regardless.

On the other side of the black crystal sits the pacific pale man whose leaned back to observe the scene ataraxy, not exactly participating in the little debate but just watching over it same as the entertained sophisticated woman who sits upright with a light smirk to the other two, also enjoying the short feud that always seems to ignite from any lone spark.

All four of them sit at the dinner table over the water, all of their bodies gleaming in the cyan of the sunlight, each of them individually having their own distinct colors of attire and body yet all of them being casted in the same warm embracing hue just like the plants that sit below the screen.

Later into the night a different room resides with no exhibition of sunlight given the lack of any window screens, although even with screens there would still be no light given the conclusion of the day. The room is definitely not as bright as the dining room, for there are many darker spots especially the corners which is only helped by the immensely greater size of the room thus requiring far more light for proper illumination.

Majorly populating the vast room are many rows from one end stretching to the other of red chairs all hovering although at different altitudes as further back chairs sit higher than those in front similar to bleachers. All of the chairs are the same in the soft red cushion material makeup, but the vast majority of them are empty.

There is one source of light that does illuminate these chairs, perhaps not as bright as the sunlight in the other room, but one that is still adequate in at least presentation. Whereas the sunlight was a constant cyan however, this one constantly flickers and changes in color, although in every moment it does not show a singular color but rather a collage of them moving animated.

That single source of light sits on the opposite wall to the direction all of the chairs are facing, that source being a titanic flat holographic screen that consumes the whole wall larger than many public theatrical screens. On that screen displays footage of a man fully dressed in a tight spandex suit that sports a scheme of black and yellow with black sleeves and leggings along with a yellow torso, boots, and mask. The suit has black linings and stripes to provide a more complex detailing, and on the chest is a small insignia representing a honeybee. The face is masked also in spandex that covers the whole head with the same black lining over the yellow base and has large beady bug-like white goggles with a black outline. The man leaps off the ground and soars in a jump higher than accomplishable by the average man, doing flips in the air while being swarmed by flames devouring the cityscape he’s in judging by the distant blue skyscrapers with sharp tips on the roofs.

The scene is played on that screen, presented to the whole theater room that is largely vacant, almost entirely so in fact if it were not for the very center where above four neighboring chairs in the middle of the central row there were four heads all cast in darkness by the shadows of the dominant light source. Little detail can be drawn given the lack of color from the back, although one of them appears to have a full long cape of hair while another one has a much shorter bowl, yet those two are still full on their own right especially compared to the head with only four thin locks on an otherwise clean head only barely holding more hairs than the one that is fully bald. The bald head resides on the rightmost side of the four occupied chairs beside the one with the few locks next to the one with the full cape, finally neighboring the one with the shorter yet full bowl.

At the center of the otherwise wholly empty theater sits Ekitai, the man, Kokei, and Dana, all of them in line close together, for while the theater was so astronomically vast that they could easily have an abundance of room to themselves individually, they all choose to compact themselves into one tight bundle.

Held in Ekitai’s lap is a large red bucket from which he constantly grabs handfuls of buttery yellow bits of popcorn before tossing them in his mouth with loud munches somehow audible over the loud explosions and battle cries on screen, albeit all of those sounds are strangely drowned and tapered out, distant muddled echoes as though heard of from below waters where the sound can’t perfectly pass through.

While Ekitai holds the bucket to himself, periodically handfuls of popcorn are robbed by Kokei without seeking approval, instead reaching her hand past the man’s lap and nonchalantly grabbing from the bucket for her own consumption although with naturally far smaller samples both given her smaller hand size but also her healthier conscience.

Next to her–as she returns her posture upright after having to lean her entire body– sits the pale man who does not reach for any food of his own despite the more welcoming proximity, but just sits in silence observing the screen with a contemplative expression, visibly relaxed as while his face is wrinkly it is not tense. Similar is Dana past Kokei who watches curiously although still leaning against the comfortable seat’s back, not needing to entertain herself with more food especially after the adequate meal.

Down from right to left the green, pink, blue, and yellow eyes watch the film together, all of them open to varying extents as the yellow is most wide and immersed while the pink is curious, yet the blue and green while definitely attentive are not as deep into the show but rather just follow along from a soothing distance.

All of them sit calmly and silently, enjoying in their own bubbles adjoined with each other’s, but still respectfully quiet. That is until Ekitai suddenly begins shaking almost in a stroke, causing bits of popcorn to shoot out of the bucket and over the seats as his jaw drops and he points his hand straight at the screen, exclaiming in a sudden burst of passionate rebellion: “Wait a second, this is just a straight up ripoff of that other guy from the better movie! They’re just doing the same thing here but it’s just worse now! The hell’s with that??”

Some of the popcorn splashes on the man beside Ekitai, who isn’t anywhere as reactive to Kokei on the other side who’s struck by a vastly lesser amount yet is frantic to brush any few kernels off her lap. Neither the man nor Dana are particularly responsive to Ekitai’s outburst either, for it seems nothing more than a minor offhand comment, yet it’s Kokei who after wiping her lap decides to counter with the raise of her head and the point sharp as a blade: “It’s not ‘ripping off,’ it’s called a ‘reference,’ Ekitai, there’s a difference. They technically can’t rip off from a movie they also own, and anyways have you not been paying attention because this entire movie has been full of references!”

Fired back after the stray shot, a scrimmage begins to boil as Ekitai turns his head from the screen to Kokei to argue, “Well those references weren’t straight up copy pasting events and music and whatnot, and also I don’t like what they’re getting at here, this is entirely different from the original movie! Like wasn’t the original all about a man with nothing having to build everything himself by hand, and that’s what made him such a hero? There’s none of that grit and whatnot, hell he’s not even building anything here, the machine is for him! It’s just so shallow and dumb, like come on it’s such a cheap shot for nostalgia and all it’s doing is just highlighting that the old movies were better!”

In between the two warring soldiers, the man just stares ahead in awkward silence, his face gradually contorting into one of subtle anxious discomfort as Kokei leans towards him to get closer to Ekitai whom she contends against with: “I think you’re just missing the point idiot, have you not been paying attention the whole time? He’s designing this all on his own, he’s not just copying. He’s clearly his own hero, I mean don’t you know how young he is but look at how much of a genius he is to be doing this! He’s not copying, he’s just growing, that’s what this entire movie is about isn’t it? I don’t even watch these movies really and I understand what’s going on more than you. Pfft, this is what happens when you spend all your time watching video essays, you can’t think for yourself dummy!”

“Oh come on that’s some bullshit if I ever heard any and you know it, like come on the other guy is literally dead and they’re still somehow managing to make this guy seem less in comparison! It’s like they just forgot how to make their own characters, everyone has to just be a ripoff of someone else! And this character’s more popular actually so it’s even dumber that he’s playing minor tone to him. Please, now if I was the director or whatever running this show, I wouldn’t make him this pussy little kid, I’d make him a real badass ya know, like he is meant to be! I’d write him right!” battles back Ekitai with spit flying out of his mouth over the man’s line of sight as he just remains silent.

“Hey maybe you’re right, why don’t you try to work in the film industry Ekitai?” suggests in a soft spoken voice, seemingly pure of heart yet only superfliciously such it’s sarcastic, that voice being that of Dana sitting beside Kokei who grabs both of the warriors’ attentions apparent by the turn of their heads.

Among the two turns the head of the man too with a subtle confuddlement to the strange derivation of the conversation, although he could feel the shadows of storm clouds shrouding over him, thunder waiting to roar.

All three clumped at the center stare at Dana as she seemingly supports, “I mean clearly you know what you’re talking about, I think if you put your soul into it, you could lead the studio. Have you ever thought of a career in film?”

It is then when Dana unleashes that angelically devilish smirk, unsheathing her blade to expose her devious mischief, a mischief caught only by two.

Both Kokei and the man react with apprehension whereas Ekitai ignites with a smirk, puffing up what little chest he has and boldly asserting, “You know, I’m not really one to look for the common jobs, I’m not just a cog in the capitalistic machine, so typically I wouldn’t even think about wasting my time with some basic occupation. But I have to admit, if I DID have to get some legal job, the movie industry wouldn’t be too bad of a choice. Besides, I mean I’m basically a natural born storyteller aren’t I, if anything I was made for it! Thank you for agreeing with me.”

Bewildered so far her brain was sparking, blazes igniting in the internal circuits, Kokei shakes her head before facing Dana and thrusts her arms in the air in the aghast beg, “Oh come on Dana what are you doing to me?? Dang it, you know how easy it is for him to get in these phases, now I’ll be stuck listening to him ramble for days!”

She then instantly switches gears to face Ekitai before hastily reprimanding, “And I don’t know whether to be proud you’re somewhat considering a real job or disappointed in what that job you’re considering is, you’re not going into the film industry Ekitai! You need actual skills for something like that, and luck…well actually I could see you somehow being lucky but anyways you need skills! And someone who isn’t even capable of seeing the basic meaning behind a basic scene like this is far from someone who could actually produce one of these!”

“You know what Kokei, I know you won’t take my word for it because you’re stubborn and think you’re better than me, so I’ll prove to you that I’m right in a way you can’t refute!” boldly proclaims Ekitai, summoning the undivided attention of Dana and Kokei in awe and anticipation as the man returns his gaze back to the screen of the film that was still playing despite no longer being experienced by those who wished for it.

The man releases a quiet sigh from the disturbances flooding the theater room even with only three other occupants, and he shuts his eyes in meditation as Ekitai follows up, “Come on Meditat, you tell her!” to which his eyelids immediately open up in fright.

Cautiously in fear, the man in the middle slowly turns his head towards Ekitai, and in almost a whisper he pleads apprehensively, “What…?”

His front facing Ekitai, he unfortunately exposes himself to assault from the back, as instantly he’s struck by the claim Kokei presents: “Oh ho ho, you really think he’d side with you?? You just dug your own grave dachi, now he’s going to expose you for being wrong and dumb and stupid and wrong and dumb, isn’t that right Meditat?”

Instinctively the man swivels his upper half to turn straight to the backstabber as his irises shriveled in panic, his jaw beginning to descend as once again he only can simply respond: “What?”

Before he can receive a response, he’s bombarded from behind by Ekitai who contends confidently, “Oh come on Kookoo, you’re way in over your head if you think Meditat would side with you! He’s my brother, my man, my sangre! Me and him got that one singular mind going, he and I know what’s right! Isn’t that right home?”

As the man turns back to face the retaliation, verbal becomes physical as his right upper arm is suddenly seized and clenched tightly before his body is dragged sideways from Kokei who’s thrusted herself at him, pulling the man away from Ekitai and waging, “The only truth I can get from that is if he’s the one hogging the mind, you seriously have no idea what you’re getting yourself into! Come on Meditat, tell him he’s full of it! I wanna watch him feel the pain!”

Quick on the draw even if second, Ekitai snatches the man’s left arm and tugs, groaning in exertion with fighting words passing through, “As if, you got no idea the brotherly bond we got going, you’re gonna need a much bigger blade to cut us apart! Come on Meditat, no mercy, light her up commanda! Blow her into the sun! Unleash hell on her foolish being!” The popcorn bucket, no longer supported by any hands nor the lap as Ekitai leans forward, falls forward and off his lap onto the row ahead yet isn’t even noticed except by the yanked man’s perturbed face.

“Come on Meditat, I know you know who’s right here, and it certainly isn’t the yapping old corpse! Strike him down, let his delusions be betrayed!” excitedly, almost obsessively commands Kokei as she tows the man to her side.

“Oy oy oy, she doesn’t know what she’s even talking about, said it herself she doesn’t watch these movies. Now why she thinks an uneducated peasant like herself could ever know more about this especially is beyond me, so why don’t you school her? Come on Meditat, rip into her!” enthusiastically propels Ekitai while heaving the man’s body towards him, the two tugging from both sides as his limp body just helplessly was being strung back and forth.

Unable to assert on his own, all the man can do in this situation of divine destruction is sit and take the assault, a mortal used as a ball in a tennis game between deities, without the power to so as stop himself from bouncing off the ground over the net. In a desperate search for hope, for light, for anything good and just to save him from such abuse, the man slowly turns his head past Kokei’s shoulder, gazing with despair etched into his face at Dana on the outskirts who watches with her amber hair covering the back of her head.

Watching the chaos unfold right before her eyes yet from a safe distance, able to watch the explosions like fireworks with no fear of the blast’s harmful strength, Dana just smiles contently, her green irises flashing same as her teeth, for in that moment it seemed just perhaps she may be the sole savior the man needed, just one benevolent ruler.

“Well go on then Medit, what do you think?” She seals the deal with the devilish smirk, proving no mercy to the mortal who was clinging to the cliff by a finger hoping for a hand but instead receiving a foot.

Rejected of any miracle, left alone in the pit of demons clawing at his bleeding skin, the man just sits there with defeat in his eyes as his one out just smiles at his helpless self. He blinks before then glancing to his side, to the fiery and ferocious faces of Ekitai and Kokei both planted right in front of him, practically knocking into his head.

He then faces forward against the screen in a meditative expression, silently staring off into the void in silence while the two still rage at his sides, two devils on his shoulders. Yet he for a moment tunes out the chaos of the battle he’s been made casualty in, and he just thinks to himself, staring off into the bright screen white to him, as though in his perspective there was no showing. He just stares at the white screen, his locks laying behind his head as on one side rages the bald man and on the other bellows the full-haired woman. He just thinks, he clears his mind, he calibrates.

Entertained told by the stupid grin on her face, Dana watches the mess she’s let her friend in amused, although that amusement suddenly begins to morph into something more serious upon the soft spoken albeit punctuated analytical voice of that friend, who speaks: “Comparisons have an inherent destructive tendency programmed into their fundamental concept, that being the tendency to damage one of those participatory in said comparison.”

Abruptly both Ekitai and Kokei cease their tugs and roars, Kokei of whom silencing with a curious face, sincerely interested as her eyes sharpen and she leans back –her gentle lips shut and soft fair cheeks relaxed– listening to the man continue, “Thus it’s rather easy, almost natural that in a comparison we ultimately deem one of those compared as lesser to the other, especially when the two subjects of comparison are similar at least in the topics considered, and it is not helped when they are intently designed to reflect one another and thus to compare to one another. If we are given two subjects who are meant to complete one task, it is only natural for us to assess the quality of their work on a uniform scale and then judge one to be ‘better’ than the other as a result. It is simple human processing, logical processing, it’s the basic computation of our brains.”

Opposite to his initial belligerence, Ekitai remains respectfully quiet with a keen gaze and closed chapped lips between his sunken cheeks, following the man lecture contemplatively, “Yet sometimes that basic instinct of one dimensional comparison is not applicable, or at the very least not the most effective method of judgment. While two subjects may be technically completing the same task thus it’s natural to compare them on the same scale of quality, not always is that task’s quality as simple as to be judged under a single spectrum. It is possible for them to excel in different areas that cannot be directly compared, and it is even possible for them to have entirely distinct designs that do not seek for the same result in which case then I suppose it’s less logical to force contrast. Ironically in this circumstance, the chronological property but more so that of the intentional reflection of a past may support a debate between old and new, between past and present, a debate that only can further create divisions especially when waged between those of differing generations. It is simple to divide the argument as advocating the supremacy of the original versus the objective improvement of the new, and yet it is that pitfall that may coincidentally be the most susceptible to false judgment.”

Individual kernels surround the denser buttery pile that has slid from the collapsed bucket on the dark floor. Only a few rays of light manage to reach the pile given the obstructions of the surrounding seats, yet those few rays make the kernels glisten no less thanks to the butter casing.

Above the mess observes the man’s voice, “It may be easy to compare the two as opponents, and ironically there is a truth in the distinction of the two subjects yet one that isn’t being properly assessed. To an extent there is purpose in the sense of similarity, almost redundant duplication, it provides the base of the former.”

Staring up between the two sober watchers, the man’s eyes shimmer as he dissects, “Yet it is the distinction that provides the growth of the latter subject, the maturation from the template into its own separate being. Not that the separate being is objectively better, it may cease some qualities of the former in a way that may be deemed inferior, but it also may acquire properties of improvement. The two are not competing, one is being propelled by the other, given the former as a base to build on forward. Perhaps the direction of change may be perceived as undesirable, but perhaps it is not the point to judge if a change is particularly an absolute improvement, rather perhaps what should be focused on is that change and how it evolves the subject such that it becomes unique in what it is, not even designed with the intent as an upgrade to the former but rather a divergence. While there is no flaw in admiring what came before nor what is now, I do not believe directly valuing them with the same rubric is always the most valid perception of them.”

Slowly the man lowers his head once again straight ahead, and he turns it towards Dana who sits on the outside, watching him silently. He releases a soft sigh, as if the response took all he had to try wiggling his way out of the ditch.

Behind the man, Ekitai is visibly contemplative, pondering with a sentimental expression, his head low and his hand resting under his chin with calm eyes.

That is until his eyes light up and widen, and with a great wide smile he proclaims enthusiastically, “So this isn’t better, I told you! The original was good in ways this isn’t, which makes it better, which makes me right, which makes you wrong!”

In front of the man, Kokei is discernibly pensive, brooding in a deep trance, her chin down and her hands lightly playing with the pink strands by her side.

Or so that expression remains until it’s shattered with a blaze, her head raising and her eyes shining before she declares victoriously, “No, he just said that this one is better because it matures so it’s an improvement and it’s better! This one grows in ways beyond the old one, which makes it better, which makes me right, which makes you wrong! Dummy!”

“Heh,” whispers Dana with a smirk to the amusing fall, locking gazes with the man whose defeated face can be seen from the reflection of her green irises below her amber bangs.

A heavy sigh emits from the man as he leans back against his seat and looks up, rubbing the back of his head into the soft cushion as his attempt at a ceasefire seemed to fail spectacularly.

Being stared at by all of those in the theater, the man opts for a more direct approach, remarking in a tone less sentimental and more sarcastic of: “Ah shut up and just watch the movie.”

Immediately both Kokei and Ekitai relinquish their tense egos and relax their bodies, Ekitai lightly hitting the man’s shoulder and assuring, “Oka oka don’t you worry, I got you, or maybe I did I don’t know you sort of talk like a textbook,” which is followed up with Kokei who more lightly but deliberately pokes the man’s other shoulder with one finger and supports, “Heh yeah you kinda do, but it’s funny, it makes me feel smarter even more than just being around Ekitai over here.”

Beside Kokei, Dana shakes her head and crosses her legs over before remarking, “So Medit, movie night, I think it’s going to catch on,” as Ekitai bends forward to reach for the spilled popcorn, scooping up the bucket as more kernels pour out before he straightens it.

After taking handfuls of popcorn and throwing it into his mouth before swallowing the previous, Ekitai interjects in between munches: “Well actually- it’d probably be good to- watch the other movies too- just so you get it all-. Besides,- once you see it all- you’ll get what I mean by the old ones being the best.”

From the reduced yet still loaded bucket, Kokei grabs her own handful reaching over the man once again, letting her hand sink into the buttery ocean before pulling out her share and bringing it over to her side whilst retorting, “Oh please Ekitai, if you love the old ones so much why are you watching the new ones then.”

“Well duh, gotta keep up with the lore, besides I keep finding videos that spoil them so best to see it the right way before getting all that dumped on me ya know?” reasons Ekitai before taking another handful of the popcorn as Dana waves her hand which the man notices.

The man grabs the bucket of popcorn off of Ekitai whilst he’s eating and unable to retaliate, and in that window of time he moves the bucket over to the other side and hands it to Dana, who grabs it off his hands and nods before nestling it by her body and grabbing a handful for herself at the same time that Kokei giggles and mentions, “Maybe then don’t watch the videos on the movies you haven’t seen, idiot.”

While Dana takes handfuls of the popcorn and tosses it into her mouth with a content smile, the man remains in between the two chatterboxes, the senile man particularly speaking next with the argument: “Hey they put the spoilers in the titles now, there’s no escape! Not my fault. And before you mention the filters, you need to be on an account for those to work, and ain’t no way I’m shooting myself in the foot like that no no.”

“You know Ekitai, there are ways to protect yourself while still being able to enjoy these things,” mentions the voice of Dana albeit further in the distance, her words becoming muffled to the man who just faces straight ahead, relaxed.

“Hey now Dana don’t think for a second I’m going to rest too easy on ya, I didn’t forget you’re a big tech CEO, I know my ways around navigating corpes. You’re not going to get under my skin that easily,” shoots back Ekitai with a chuckle, although even from right beside him in an open theater his voice sounds as if it’s on the other side of a wall, dampened.

“You say that like you’re not the criminal here who’s probably wanted in more Earths than I know of, so if we can stretch our conscience for you I think you can be a little bit forgiving for her,” retorts Kokei playfully, yet the words of her voice are just barely clear, deadened, as though being heard from underwater.

Thus as the man just remains amongst the seats, his head straight forward, he stares out with a peaceful expression perhaps not one of extravagant action but one of leisurely tranquility.

His face untense, the screen before him darkens per the events of the film as he gradually closes his eyes as if for a prolonged blink, letting himself rest in peace as he resides amongst the other chairs.

His eyes remain closed as the darkness settles in and prolongs too, and all the sounds around him drown out into total silence. The chairs do remain behind him, but somewhat floaty, untethered as they seem to glide on their own accord.

Not only do the chairs below his sinking body drift, but so do the other clumps of debris of furniture being beds, cabinets, and tables amongst wreckages in the form of chunks of walls and floors. All of the debris of the old home sinks down in the dark sea among the body of the pale man, limp and eyes shut in sleep, sleep among the remains of his home. There is hardly any light but for a faint distant glimpse that just barely casts a ray onto the body just enough to be seen, yet surrounding it is darkness that clouds the other debris.

Shards of glass and chunks of shelves drift above the body freely, most sinking slowly, many of which being weighed by other debris from above pushing it further down into the dark depths of the bottomless void.

Drifting too above the body are the ripped pedals yellow, green, and pink, lightless movements amongst the destruction, no longer being basked in warm light but instead being drowned in cold darkness. The pedals glide in the watery depth over the body of the one to bring them together, but now they all sink into the infinitely low floor.