<Served him right. Tell him to write a hundred million pages about what happened and post them here by tomorrow. Or else.>
<Shit! Wish I were there! My blood’s boiling. Sounds like things are happening on the Keio Line. I’ve got a homemade club and I am ready to go!>
<Are you as stupid as you sound? If you get on the train with a club in your hand, the cops’ll have your ass in a second, dickhead!>
<You mean we can use our dicks? Mine’s homemade too and ready to go!>
<If you get on the train with your dick in your hand, the cops’ll have you just as fast.>
<But it’s such a nice, “natural” weapon.>
<Don’t think mine’s long enough to do the job. No beating with this thing.>
<Make one yourself!>
<Take a taxi!>
<What are you? A cabdriver?>
<What? Have you got a laptop open on the passenger seat?>
<Just got back from the Cultural Center. Fight’s over and everybody has cleared out. But there was some blood on the ground. Gyaaaaaaa!>
<Not sure what’s going on. Trying to find out.>
<What’s going on? We’re beating up middlers! Who is that?>
<I live in Hokkaido and I’m in elementary school. If you want to hunt, you should come here.>
<I’m at the airport and just bought a ticket for Hokkaido. My club’s in my luggage!>
<Hokkaido’s a big place. Good luck, asshole!>
<The cops are massing at the station. Run for it, Gods! Don’t let them get you.>
<Middle school kids! Kick for the pricks! It’s their weakest spot! Happy dick-hunting!>
<Awh, don’t pick on the poor little gods.>
<Or make fun of their little dicks!>
<OUCH!>
<Kicked dicks!>
<For a mere hundred million yen we can get that little dick up and running again for you.>
<A buddy of mine went out to have a look and they arrested him even though he had nothing to do with this. Poor bastard.>
<Kiss the poor bastard for me.>
<Shiiiiit!>
<I decided to breed little lamb after all, now that I’ve got her. And she gives awesome head.>
<You people aren’t human.>
<Post your address. I want some too.>
<Yeah, your address. How ’bout I fuck you with my club?>
<We’ve found the devil!>
<Stupid shits! If you find these little middle school punks, don’t run over them. This is serious. The highway is a madhouse. No joke.>
<He’s right, I saw it too. Some girl with her leg crushed. Chofu is a war zone, and you can’t tell who’s in charge—God or the Devil or Yukito Ayatsuji!>
<Who the fuck is Yukito Ayatsuji?>
<No joke, somebody really is running down middle schoolers. Ha ha ha!>
<One of those middle school fuckers just stabbed me. Kill them all! Shit! Where’s the hospital?>
<My buddy was stabbed by a middle schooler and he’s sitting next to me crying his fucking eyes out.>
<A man lives and dies by his fists not knives.>
<Just gang-raped this little lamb. Left her near Tamagawa Station.>
<You guys are gods! Or else fucking devils!>
<One vote for devils.>
<Make that two.>
<Make it three.>
<Give those little shitheads a cigar!>
<Three fucking cigars!>
<One little, two little, three little shitheads.>
<Shitheads, shitheads, shitheads!>
<Enough already with the shitheads.>
<Went out to look around and the cops were all over me like flies on shit. Asked a bunch of questions and then beat me up for giving smart answers.>
<Nobody at the Cultural Center, but lots of blood. I’m scared shitless.>
<Get a fucking clue! A girl was really raped at Tamagawa Station. Cops everywhere. The assholes who did this should go straight to jail.>
<Who are you to judge?>
<Are the riot police there yet? Because there’s a riot in Chofu now.>
<Not a riot, a fucking festival!>
<No, this is Armageddon!!>
Sirens were wailing in the distance. It had actually started. They’d been joking about another Armageddon, and this seemed to be it. Three people had died in the last Armageddon, seven in the one before that. Armageddon should be the final battle, but this seemed to be happening over and over, an all-out riot—and this one right here in Chofu. And it’s pretty safe to say that somebody’s going to die. If it was just a bunch of middle and high school kids fooling around, there wouldn’t have been much to worry about, but once the Voice of Heaven got involved, began putting it out on the web, it was bound to turn into Armageddon. Then every biker and punk from all over the area descended on Chofu, and even the yakuza took advantage of the confusion and came wading in. They pretended to come as peacemakers, but they’d find lots of ways to turn a little Armageddon profit: beat up on people and take their money; send some boys off to rape a girl, videotape it, then blackmail all the parents—the rapists’ and the victim’s—and then sell the video to milk the last bit of profit; or maybe kidnap a kid, hold him a few days, and collect a little ransom. There were lots of angles. The kids were looking for thrills, thrills, thrills. But all the grown-ups wanted was money, money, money. And then there were these guys who called themselves “Street Angels,” vigilantes who were supposedly trying to stop the violence, got up in white T-shirts and black hats and carrying billy clubs. On top of all that, the Voice of Heaven had come up with an anti-anti-Armageddon squad of its own, which went to war with the Street Angels—meaning that the “peacekeepers” were doing everything they could to pump up the violence volume. The only thing that might have helped would have been the untimely death of the Temple of Johan guy who was in charge of the Voice of Heaven, but no such luck.
But I suppose Voice of Heaven would have survived even if Temple of Johan had died, and even if the site itself disappeared, since there’d always be a new one to take its place. Armageddon was an accident waiting to happen—over and over and over.
To tell the truth, up till now, when an
