Manic

In the darkness, a pale flicker of lighter flame ignites a scented candle, which was placed on a table in a miniature library decorated with old antique books from centuries past. A stone-cold hand placed the scented candle beside a closed draped window with the moonlight illuminating the office. The sounds of creaks on the dark wooden floorboards were the only things one could hear when setting foot in the secretive office in the middle of nowhere.

The oni-masked man sat on a rotating leather chair and spun around to face away from the moonlight. He held a set of old documents piled on top of one another with scribbled illegible writing labeled on it. He swept his thumb across the documents, releasing a substantial amount of dust particles into the atmosphere until he opened the one that he was looking for.

The window slammed open, releasing a powerful gust of wind to blow the scented candle's flame away. The oni-masked man did not flinch. Instead, he continued to inspect the documents as if nothing was there.

"I'm here, love," The Jester's zombified voice came through behind the oni-masked man. She sat on the table with her head buried into her propped-up legs, clutching them tightly as she shivered through the midnight breeze. The pink streak on her hair blew against the wind while she lifted her head above her knees to pledge her attention to the oni-masked man. "You called for me. So here I am."

"Yes. You are," The oni-masked man replied, setting the documents down on the ground. With the exception of one file, the man propped his shoes on top of the folder while handing the chosen document to the Jester. "You beautiful little disaster."

"I can't get her voice out of my head," The Jester stated, taking the document from the oni-masked man's possession. She scanned through it, but focused on herself instead. "She's always watching me, judging me with those beady little eyes. And no matter what happens, I can never escape it. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you," The oni-masked man said, spinning his chair around. He delicately placed his palm on the Jester's cheek and carressed it affectionately. "You are perfect just the way you are. Don't ever let anybody tell you otherwise."

"Those invaders in my city seem to think different," The Jester stated, slamming the document down on the table while lashing her hair around. "Those motherfuckers, they tried to send a message to me, but they're not-"

The Jester kicked herself off of the table after an enormous amount of emotional pressure entered her manic mind, forcing her to slam her fist against the bookshelf. She pierced through the wood with her bare hands and tossed it all to the ground in chaos. "Shut the fuck... up!" The Jester roared at the figment of her imagination eyeing her in private. "We're talking!"

"You may show those invaders your true colors," The oni-masked man insisted. "To buy enough time for Polycyclone to finish designing more extractors to find those memory fragments. You must also protect your own if they seek it."

The Jester sprinted toward the oni-masked man and lunged her foot across next to him on the edge of the table. She dented the desk with her kick as she pressed her face closely to the oni-masked man, seeking the most valuable attention and permission from her upper echelon. "And I will show them," She chuckled, stroking her antique pistol holstered on her side with her fingers. "I'm not afraid of them."

"Do not fail me," The oni-masked man said, grabbing the document from the table and folding it in half. He placed it in his suit pocket and straightened his white collar. "You came from nothing. But soon, you will be something. To me." He lifted himself off of the chair and approached the exit of his office.

"Where are you going?!" The Jester cried, slumping to the floor sobbing maniacally. Voices in her head, followed by pixelated alien creatures cackling at her existence numbed her from moving any further. The girl's beady eyes that she described reappeared in the dark corners of the room, watching every single stride she took. Every single breath she made. Every single blink of an eye.

"I'll be heading back soon," The oni-masked man said, turning his head around. "They'll need me."

The door shut firmly, and the Jester laid on the floorboards with her head tucked under her chin. She brandished her antique pistol and inspected its inferno-gradient color. She inhaled the powder inside the tip of the barrel and became insufferable to the voices in her head. But she embraced it with all her might, and she used it to continue further.

She leaned back on the office table, arms and legs spread apart, and watched the moonlight strike the shadows.