TTO Episode 2.1

Episode 2

The Book of Daniel

2.1         

The band there was playing the ancient folklore song named ‘Nanatsu No Ko’; the tale of the seven baby’s crow. The band was adept at it with three musicians playing the music with the ‘shamisen’ and ‘koto’. It was rare to hear the song with the equally rare instruments but the Mos Early Hall was not your typical place to listen for music, but it was when the owner was Mos Early the Conductor.

“Do you want a squeeze of the D7?” I mimic an equivalent of a snigger to amuse the half construct of organic and machinery. I nodded to the bartender behind the counter. The Siverin are adept at the serving counter with their four extended arms and the bulging eyes that extended from their chest. Nothing escape the Siverin sight for those set of bulging eyes have five retina in each socket with their own individual sight. When I mentioned that the Siverin was half construct for it was seated on a mechanical platform that moved on the double tracks.

I had my serving of the D7 while I focus on the trio on the left side of the Hall. Mos Early may be an avid music listener but his business acumen told him the space for the stage be kept at the minimal while the other spaces were reserved for the patrons. Mos furnished it with three round tables on the other side while two rectangle tables for eight pax occupied the center of the hall. Okay, Mos was a scrooge for a proper hall but that one served him well. It was packed with all the tables occupied and some were at the counter with me.

I forgot to mention that constructs hardly communicate when they were served lubricants.

“Are they good or are they …” The construct was a speech therapist in a golden encasement and given the frame of a homo sapien. However the construct was not an ecstatic design with its joints displaying the cables and lubricant tubes.

“Oui, pardon me.” The golden construct took a dab of oil on the left elbow. “I guessed I am dripping oil.”

I took no notice of the drip but the other released off a disgusting laughter sound that was more like a Druggin experiencing a dry fuck. I ignored the construct and went back to the musicians. The trio of two three feminine gender had completed their stint and was leaving the stage.

“Hold on. You all three organics continue with the music.” I disliked those three constructs; they were halves like the bartender but the three were mercenaries. Their limbs were all replaced with machineries there. It was a sad case of poor judgment in battle survival skills. Given the fact that they were of the masculine gender account for higher degree of stupidity in judgment. Those three were seated near the stage and given their organic tolerance for the potent drinks; they were categorized as intoxicated. “We want to hear more music.”

The lead musician turned towards the three mercenaries and smiled. The musicians were Monscrats; the few with the inclination for the non violent learning.

“My apologies but our time is up.” The lead musician then took a bow. The nearest mercenary who was also of Moncrats lashed out with the upper limbs at the musician. The musician took a step back with the left leg and bent the body frame backwards to avoid the double arm grab. During the move, the musician lashed out with the right arm in a closed fingers jab at the mercenary lower chest. It was a numbing move that disabled the drunkard. The other two mercenaries stood up to join in but they were denied the move when they saw the musician have a side arm in her right hand. Even though weapons were not allowed there but exceptions were maintained at times.

“Are they good or are they …” The golden construct echoed his comments once more but that time I was past listening. At the entrance was the appearance of two hooded figures in a dark overcoat.

“Gracious, they stink.” For once the golden construct was correct. The two hooded figures pulled their hoods back to reveal their faces. They were Grecians.

“We come here to foretell you the new ten years.” The Grecians voiced out in unison. “We are prepared to speak for a  series of drinks.”

“Oui, mate. You are in the wrong hall. This is for the constructs. Organic is down the path.” Trust golden construct to speak the truth. I sniggered but it was cut off when the shooting began.

“The city is under attack!” Another construct rushed in to alert us all. “Get me the oil before I melt.”