Bab 8: LOST IN CHAOS
The Stonehaven police force's headquarters stood as a venerable testament to history, its architecture a tribute to fallen heroes who sacrificed for a brighter future. The monumental building exuded grandeur, a solemn reminder of its mission; to safeguard the community and prevent the repetition of past tragedies.
"My favorite kind of sleep is non-REM sleep," Haturii mused to himself, dragging a weary hand down his face. Stationed in the bullpen of the police station, he was sorting through an everest of paperwork at the request of his boss, Aomorii.
"This lack of sleep is really catching up to me," he muttered, organizing the documents into neat stacks. "We're severely understaffed. I'm so exhausted..." A massive yawn interrupted his thoughts, and he allowed himself a brief moment to gaze longingly into the distance. "Once I'm done here, I can finally get some rest. Finally," he reassured himself with a sigh of relief. Just as he finished, the distant sounds of commotion outside the room piqued his curiosity.
His brow furrowed with interest as he wondered about the unusual activity disrupting the usual quiet of the station. Eager to investigate, he made a move toward the door, but a clumsy mishap intervened.
"Damn it!" Haturii muttered through gritted teeth, his voice laced with frustration. Exhaustion etched into every line of his face, his weary eyes and aching muscles betrayed him, sending the neatly ordered paperwork tumbling to the floor in a chaotic, scattered heap.
Moments later, the doors burst open with a resounding bang.
"What the hell is going on out there?!" Haturii erupted in frustration, storming through the door to confront the disturbance. To his surprise, he found Dr. Stane standing defiantly in the waiting room, surrounded by officers attempting to restrain him.
It was a scene straight out of a bad sitcom, with officers looking like they'd just wrestled a greased pig.
"Really?!" Haturii thought, rolling his eyes. "Of all days, of all moments, this has to happen now?"
"Aomorii, where's Aomorii?!" The researcher's voice cracked with urgency, his body tense with desperation. "I should be talking to her, let me go! You need to let me see her!"
"Whoa, calm down," Haturii intervened swiftly, stepping forward to defuse the escalating tension. With practiced ease, he flashed his security badge at the officers holding the researcher. "Let him go, it's okay. He's with me."
The officers, silent and wary, scrutinized the badge before reluctantly releasing their grip. It was a familiar scenario—dealing with individuals who strayed into the precinct demanding to see the chief of police. But this time, there was an air of urgency that prickled Haturii's senses.
"Hey, I know you," Haturii addressed the researcher, recognizing him from past encounter. "You're Ganymede's aide. What brings you all the way here?"
"Aomorii... Where's Aomorii?" The researcher's voice trembled, his eyes darting anxiously. "The boy... It's... It's not his fault. It's not..."
"Calm down," Haturii demanded, his tone sharp with impatience. "What are you talking about? What boy?"
"The boy," the researcher managed between breaths, clearly distressed. He had fled from the Foundation upon realizing the consequences of the officers catching up with the anomaly. "It's not... It's not his fault there was a leak in his sedation pipes!" His words spilled out with a sense of urgent helplessness, each breath ragged and uneven.
"Sedation pipes?!" Haturii's confusion deepened, but a flicker of recognition danced in his mind. He recalled snippets from the brief conversation with Ganymede.
"'Also known as the Doom Bringer,'" he recollected. "One of the most dangerous anomalies we've dealt with. Of all the troubles we've had having it here, it's proven it cannot be contained any longer!"
"Of course!" He declared, the spark of realization igniting in his eyes as he seized the scientist's full attention. "Ganymede reported issues with the anomaly but relied on sedation to keep it under control," he explained, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. "Since then, the case was shrouded in secrecy. I interrogated every person involved—every single individual—except for you." His voice took on a steely edge. "As an aide to a Site Director, you're in a position of authority beyond the ordinary ranks. The only plausible way you could ever have known about the leak is if you were directly responsible for it. You broke the creature out!"
Dr. Stane's expression faltered, unable to dispute the accusation. Monitors in the containment facility showed the anomaly's vitals spiking. Heart and brain activity peaked—an ominous sign of imminent danger. The sedation tubes had been severed, awakening the Kaiju from its enforced slumber. Despite years of confinement and the damage it sustained, the creature's regeneration accelerated, restoring its formidable appearance.
Meanwhile, within the confines of the boy Kaiju's containment chamber, chaos erupted. The air filled with the piercing wail of alarms, a harrowing symphony of impending disaster. As surveillance cameras captured the scene, the Kaiju gradually rose to his full height, his movements fluid yet foreboding. With each stretch and flex, his joints emitted ominous cracks, echoing through the reinforced walls.
His neural synapses fired with frenetic energy, a volatile mix of anticipation and malevolent intent. It was as though he relished the prospect of unleashing untold havoc upon those who dared confine him. To him, the Foundation's attempts at control were nothing more than misguided hubris.
He was not merely a creature of brute strength; he embodied a sinister intellect, a scholar of suffering and a pioneer of pain. With each passing moment, his demeanor exuded a chilling confidence—a predator aware of his prey, poised to shatter the illusion of containment and instill raw fear once more.
He grinned, a smirk that cut through the tension like a blade, his eyes blazing with an ominous crimson glow.
****
Why do I feel like I'm walking down death row?
I had strayed far from home. Now taking risks, on the run. Everything looked starkly different from the comforts of Home, now distant and elusive.
Lost, yet strangely liberated.
In a realm unseen by the Kaiju's gaze.
What path should I choose? Attempt escape? He contemplated, swiftly dismissing the notion, fearing the inevitable capture that awaited him. His mind wandered, detached from the lecture droning on in the background.
The Kaiju cared little for the lecturer's words, dismissing Orenji's discourse on Photonball as irrelevant nonsense. Yet, even in his distracted state, had he paid attention, he might have realized the profound implications of Orenji's teachings. Instead, he gazed emptily at him, attempting to snap himself back to reality. However, the sight of those unforgiving chains clamped around his wrists and ankles, their weight bearing down with a cruel finality, froze him to his core. They shackled not just his limbs but his mind, spirit, and very essence, rendering him powerless against their unyielding grasp.
Since that nightmarish encounter with the grotesque humans, it felt as though the essence of his true self had perished. That day marked the death of his clarity, his dreams, his drive, and his lofty ambitions. In their stead, fear took root deep within him, entwining itself with every thought and action.
And when the boy remained silent, Orenji stepped into the breach. A skilled orator by nature, he danced around the topic before finally hitting the mark.
"Hey. Earth to new guy, you here yet?" Orenji's voice cut through the boy's reverie. He watched as the boy startled back to awareness, his brow damp with unnoticed perspiration.
"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah," came the reply.
Words seemed to elude him, but Orenji wasn't fooled. He recognized the vacant look clouding the boy's features once more. Following the boy's gaze, he saw it fixed on the officers.
"See something interesting? I was asking if you wanted to join us for a game of Photonball," Orenji turned to face him, realizing in that moment, "but you don't look so good. Can I--" He was interrupted as the boy flinched at his touch.
"Yeah, I'm okay," he deflected tersely.
""What do you mean? You know you're going to have to make it easier for me to understand you. Right?" Orenji prodded gently.
With a sweeping gesture across the empty space, his hands moving slower than usual, the Kaiju afforded himself a shield of deception. "It's nothing," he signed, veiling his turmoil behind a facade of calm.
In that moment, he saw how he had descended into the deceptive intricacies of human life, a world of evasion and tension.
Orenji continued to watch, waiting.
The Kaiju realized then, "It's nothing important."
He finished with a hollow promise.
Orenji observed quietly, sensing the boy's unease. Following the boy's reluctant gaze, he noticed it fixed once again on the approaching officers, but unlike last time, one of them met his stare. The realization caused the Kaiju's heart to skip a beat with the fear of being discovered, prompting him to act swiftly on the one thought that came to mind.
"Okay, let's go," he interjected hastily, guiding Orenji toward the direction where the other teenagers gathered, hoping to blend in unnoticed.
"Wait, are we going now? To join the game?" Orenji questioned, being gently pushed forward.
"Yeah, sure, whatever you say." He returned with forced nonchalance, his desperation palpable.
****
Photonball, a brutal symphony of athleticism and aggression, echoed across the sprawling track—a place where masochistic defiance met the relentless pursuit of victory. The Kaiju, inwardly scoffing at the idea of willingly subjecting oneself to such physical torment, marveled at the chaotic scene unfolding before him.
Why would anyone in their right mind allow themselves to be pummeled or trampled? He mused silently, his skepticism apparent in the furrow of his brow. They entered from the track's far side, its vast expanse stretching infinitely into the distance.
Yikes! His expression exclaimed, betraying his astonishment.
"It's a full mile," Orenji remarked with a half-smile.
"Yeah, definitely looks like it," the Kaiju replied, eyes wide with awe. The track was alive with activity—people milling about, shoes clattering against the ground in a rhythmic cacophony.
Definitely bustling! He thought.
Teams of teenagers lined up, positioning themselves eagerly along opposite sides of the track, preparing for the impending match. The Kaiju, newly integrated into Orenji's team, observed the camaraderie and tension between the groups. It was clear they anticipated a fiercely contested game, aiming not just to compete, but to excel.
Photonball, he reflected silently, recalling its blend of roller skating, basketball, and other rough-and-tumble elements. The objective; to score by launching the ball through high hoops using vert ramps while gliding on roller shoes. It was a sport where control was tenuous, and collisions were inevitable—an environment tailor-made for the daring and the adrenaline-hungry.
Beyond its physical demands, Photonball serves a societal role, offering spectators a brief respite from their woes through its raw intensity.
In truth, this hyper-violent amalgamation of sports wasn't just about athleticism; it was about channeling stress and aggression into controlled chaos—a spectacle where pain and triumph intertwined in a mesmerizing dance of skill and sheer willpower.
The Kaiju remained detached from the ongoing details, lost in a contemplation of his own as he stared thoughtfully, his mind far from at ease. The nagging worry persisted; had he been noticed? Had someone spotted him? He tried to reassure himself, grasping at the hope that it might all be mere coincidence.
Maybe it was nothing, he muttered inwardly, though uncertainty lingered. Suddenly, his gaze sharpened as he spotted the officers and the dreaded Centurion approaching the path he and Orenji had recently occupied. His eyes widened briefly, then narrowed with intense focus and a rush of relief as they continued down the road, oblivious to the teenagers engaged in their sport. The officer's casual disregard for his presence turned out to be the best outcome he could have hoped for.
He breathed a heavy sigh, feeling the tension drain from his shoulders, his mind momentarily at ease. But then a new wave of apprehension crept in.
Wait a minute, how did I end up here? He glanced around furtively, scanning his surroundings with growing unease.
He realized where he was now, the exact spot he stood. In his desperate attempt to escape one problem, he had unknowingly walked himself into a fresh new hell. One with no easy escape—a predicament he had no choice but to confront head-on.
The Game!
The realization hit him like a thunderclap.
The intensity of Photonball, its chaotic blend of speed and strategy, now loomed large before him. What had initially seemed like an escape had transformed into a crucible of challenge and endurance. As he squared his shoulders and prepared to face this unexpected trial, the Kaiju understood that this was not just a game—it was a test of his resolve, his wits, and his ability to navigate a world where every move carried consequences.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone