4.1

Sheer Heart Attack: Go go Major America

‘This is ridiculous’, Jim Cross thought to himself. While the teenager didn’t have any plan this summer, helping out his uncle at the store was the last thing he wanted. The old man was now retired, he ran a small book shop. To celebrate the opening of the new comic book section, Jim had to stand here in a full body suit pretending to be some bozo.

The teenager sighed, perhaps this wasn’t too bad. Since his face was completely covered and he didn’t have to open his mouth, no one recognised him.

A stupid costume was way better than being looked down by everyone he came across. Jim sat in the resting and pulled out something he found in uncle’s cabinet. A revolver, fully loaded. As son of the sheriff, the teenager wasn’t a stranger to this particularly weapon. But in absence of anything that he deemed more interesting, fidgeting with this wasn’t too bad of a way to pass the time.

Hearing light footsteps, the teenager put the weapon away. The door slowly opened to reveal a young boy. The kid’s eyes lit up as he looked at Jim Cross.

“Are you, Major America?”

“Yes, please don’t tell anyone I am here as I am on a secret mission” Feeling particularly bored, Jim decided to stay in character.

“Woah, are you spying on the Snake!”

Oh right, apparently Major America major enemy was an evil organisation called Snake. Jim smiled and said “Of course, so can you keep this a secret”

The young boy nodded and left in silence. Gosh, Jim never thought he would meet a child this dense. The costume was some bargain bin’s deal and his ‘iconic’ shield was simply a painted piece of cardboard box. How could anyone mistake him for the real deal? How could anyone even believe Major America was real. Perhaps kids these days were just dumb.

The next day, the teenager could see the same boy walking past. He seemed to be trying to hold back his excitement, remembering that this was supposed to be a secret.

Maybe this particularly kid was simply retarded. All the others were snarkier than anything about this cheap costume. Come to think of it, his clothing was quite dirty. He was probably from some dumpster of a place that some people lived in.

The third day and was also the final one where Jim had to wear this ridiculous costume. The teenager snuck to the back in hope having a smoke only to meet a familiar face.

It was the boy, but he was wearing an old dress while clutching a crumpled Major America comic. Seeing Jim, the boy ran at him, holding the teenager’s leg. Now this had gone a bit too far, but he tried to keep his cool.

“What happened?” Jim asked, and why were you even in a dress.

“Please help me, Major, my father, he hurts me”

Talk about mundane, Jim didn’t remember breaking down crying like this after receiving a beating when he was younger. But maybe this kid father was more abusive than normal. But even then…

“If that is the case, come to the police, they will help you”

“I… did, but they just led me back to him, none of them believed me”

What was so unbelievable about a drunk beating kids. Come to think of it, for this kid to mistake him for the real Major America, maybe this boy’s imagination was a bit too active.

“I will take you to the police, if your beat you then they will deal with it. Don’t worry, they will at least listen to me, Major America” Or more like the son of the sheriff. Jim wondered how his father’s guys would treat him, after all the rumours.

“But, father doesn’t just beat me…”

What now, Jim was really not in the mood of listening to a little brat complaining.

“Ever since mother went away, father, he didn’t act right” The boy said, his voice trembling “He was sad, he kept on holding her picture all day”

That was it… what was wrong with that. Jim just wanted to remove the mask and revealed who he was. But would the kid recognise him, the supposed deviant. Thinking about that made the teenager hesitates. The young boy, after trembling some more, finally continued.

“Father, hic, he would then dress me up in her clothes and talk to me as if I am mother. He would then kiss me like he did with mother” The boy shuddered “Then I wasn’t allowed to sleep in my room anymore… I… didn’t mind the pain, father was in so much more pain than me. But this time, hic, it hurts too much”

Jim looked down and to his horror, lines of dried blood ran along the inside of the boy legs.

But most horrifying was that the blood had always been there. And yet, Jim didn’t see it, or more like didn’t care to see it. Now that his eyes cannot avert from the truth anymore, what would the teenager do.

This was enough evident for the police, right! Father, he would act on this, right!

Could they even be asked to handle a case for this boy from the dump like this? The question appeared in his mind. And deep down, the teenager knew that the reason he asked that was because he was the son of the sheriff…

In his mind was a small figure, a little girl, pleading something at the station.

“Don’t worry” Jim held the boy “I, Major America, I won’t let him do anything to you”

The teenager had made up his mind and on this final day of his life, Jim Cross the deviant had become Jim Cross the kidnapper, Jim Cross the murderer, the sinner.

‘Thou shalt not murder’ – The Sixth Commandment.

___

Jim Cross was woken up violently by a cold splash of water. Oh right, he was captured by Six, right in his own room. Chained to a chair, next to him was a tray full of normal looking tools ranging from tweezers to scalpel. Standing in front of the teenager was a woman of oriental descent. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what would happen next.

Perhaps this was his punishment, for being tempted by the red devil.

“I will ask you questions, and you will answer”

The woman said coldly holding up the tweezer.

“Ugh” Jim gritted his teeth as a nail was pulled from his finger.

“Or else that won’t be the last” The interrogator. The contempt in her voice was as clear as day “Are we clear”

The teenager breathed heavily, the sharp pain nearly driven him mad. Something wasn’t right, his senses were so much more acute. Was he just imagining it or was there some sort of injection to enhance his sensitivity. Twisted bastard.

“Think back about the final day of the festival. Was there anything out of the ordinary”

No, it wasn’t just contempt, but a searing hatred. Jim could understand why this could happen, him being tortured like this, he was a weak link after all. But why the hatred, what did he do to earn that much ire.

Of course, how could someone like him achieve anything noteworthy enough to match this much hatred. No, Jim was an outlet, something inconsequential to be later forgotten. Just like the night spent with Doraemon.

The thought filled the teenager with bitterness “…” He whispered.

“What did you say” The woman held up his head with the tweezer.

Jim Cross looked his interrogator, there was a subdue and clinical beauty to her, it would be a shame if something was to happen to it. Without any hesitation, the teenager spitted straight into her face.

“I thought you would be smarter than this”

Holding his hand, the woman pulled out another nail with ease. Then came the next pull but this time wasn’t that easy. No, she dragged the tweezer left and right, up and down before making a pull.

The pain was simply unbearable and yet Jim didn’t let out a single sound.

Sensing his torturer mounting frustration was somehow satisfying. The teenager held onto that feeling, it helped ease the pain somewhat.

Wasn’t it petty of him. It would be better to vent it all, he didn’t know anything at all. And yet, the teenager was putting himself through all this. Could this be considered childish. Funny, Jim was always the cool guy, the one who never did anything stupid, the mature one.

Was it a stretch to equate resisting torture to childishness? The teenager wondered.

Meanwhile, the woman had realised her method hadn’t been working out. Time for something more drastic measure. She pulled out a long needle.

Jim’s mind raced with cruel suggestions of how that would be used. But to his surprise, the woman plunged it into a gauntlet around her wrist. While most the thing was hidden by the long sleeve, it was unmistakable, that needle was now inside her arm. The woman raised her hand and the metallic item shot out with a strange glow around its tip.

‘This wasn’t the time for question anymore, Eagle and Falcon, even Eikichi and Doraemon would never let someone like this onto anything anyway’ Mi-Young thought. The woman knew Six would object to this torture but the rage within her was burning strong.

The needle pierced Jim’s shoulder, strangely enough, there was no pain, for now. In a quiet second, the teenager underwent the most excruciating experience of his life. His muscle felt like they were contracting, tearing itself apart. The pain was not a constant high either, no, it throbbed like mad, like his flesh was being ripped apart slowly.

“AHHHHHHHH”

There was no containing this scream. The moment he opened his mouth or moved any other muscles, the pain was amplified. The teenager couldn’t help but scream and it only made the experience even more horrid.

The pain only lasted for seconds but it felt like millennia. Jim looked up to see the needle pointing straight at his forehead. It seemed he was in a bind here, hah.

Jim could see his life flashing before his eyes, but the teenager soon tore it all down. This wasn’t the time for that, no, he wouldn’t give this woman the satisfaction of his pain! His mind searched for a way to get out of this situation and it arrived at only one conclusion, Eikichi.

That man always had a solution for everything, a reply to even the most absurd of situation.

In this situation, what would Eikichi do…

The answer was… blank. Of course, Jim couldn’t think like Eikichi. But the teenager knew one that separated a waste of space like him and that man, asides from the gulf of experience and skill between them that was. Whatever the plan, whatever the situation, from facing a giant raging monster to a supernatural enemy, Eikichi always acted without any hesitation.

Gritting his teeth, Jim headbutted the needle.

Well, the teenager wasn’t that stupid. He tried to turn his head sideway, maybe the needle would slide along his skull instead or it might just pierce his brain.

Surprisingly, that somehow knocked the woman to her back. Jim found himself free of his bound, a newfound energy swelling within him. Wasting no time, the teenager did the first idea that came to his mind. Running.

Jim legged it for the door. That’s strange, his head wasn’t even hurt and how did those bound even break? Did he actually perish in that attempt and this was just a final dream?

The teenager could feel his legs getting weaker and weaker, soon he couldn’t even feel them anymore. Nevertheless, he trudged on, making his way along the hallway, reaching for that door at the end.

As it busted open, Jim could see light, he was outside the outskirt of Saragarhi.

Behind him was the woman, who had caught up effortlessly. She was furious, no, insulted by his escape attempt. Huh, Jim smirked, the teenager sure was more petty than he thought.

His mind blank, he accepted his fate, but something caught his ears. It was music, played straight out of a device of sort, more specifically a helmet.

“Don’t look back. Don’t look back. It’s a rip-off~”

In front of the two stood a man cladded black jeans and leather jacket clothing. He turned away to show the back with a white skull with red roses, underneath were two big letters in cursive.

Killer Queen

The man also wore a black helmet, he turned around to reveal a front glass that cover the whole face, drenching it in darkness, saved for a red light in the middle. He turned his whole body back with his hip to the side, striking a rather effeminate pose.

The biker flicked his hand pointing at the interrogator, who was as surprised as Jim. The recording continued to play, signalling a cacophony of carnage that was to come.

“Flick of the wrist and you're dead baby~”