Chapter 39
The Foreign Delegation
If there is one rule that I have learned about politics that seems to apply to both my last life, and this world, with would have to be on promoting cultural importance.
Cultural importance: anytime politics get involved in an event, you can expect a bit of the dog and pony show to occur. These are where special forces, some type of special unit, or unique group comes in and performs a task that lets you know how they are not only different, but also important.
I remember our hospital prepping and cleaning for hours, preparing for when a foreign dignitary would come to visit their child who got drunk and ended up in a car accident. Their fault entirely, yet we as the mere workers had to stand up straight and take the wrath of the delegate who blamed everyone for the accident and the reason why his child was in the hospital, other than their alcoholic child who was clearly rebelling.
All of that is to say that I am somewhat jaded when it comes to having to stop everything I am doing, to step back and watch foreign dignitaries work.
That said, after the three straight fights, and having to heal a Tamer who nearly got eaten by her own rebelling pet, again I side with the pet in her case. This is when Sal changed up the game plan. Or maybe everyone already knew the game plan, but me?
“Now, we will all take a moment to watch, as the Nostrylvanian Revolutionary Guard Members showcase their talents in purifying the land. As part of their trip here, they have brought a clear version of their Z-Rot Incinerators, complete with smoke filtration units and sealable hazmat containers to keep the corrupted ashes in.” Sal states.
As Sal is talking, Lucia and Luna are gently guiding Markan, Mr. Yi, and me out of the way. By now both Tamers have left, and even Lady, the overly affectionate phase panther also finally left. Despite her having somehow broken free of her tamer backstage to come out and get more ear scratches from me. Which is good, I consider already consider this a day well spent, as a murder machine has clearly added me to their do not kill first list.
From there I watch as the guard members all come out in hazmat suits, or what I consider to be this world’s version of hazmat suits. They are long and black, like my robe that I am forced to wear, but unlike mine that is just a layer of cloth, theirs seems to be a layer of cloth over thick cured leather that gives them a more durable look. Also, their gloves are clearly thicker and more durable than the ones I had to change out earlier.
Moving as a well-trained team, they move as one. Using shovels, scoopers and other tools to grab the rotting and half dissolved corpses from the acid corroded playpen area that held the remaining corrupted animals. Animals that are now all clearly dead. Well, all but one rabbit that apparently managed to crawl away, despite losing three of its legs to acid spay. That one seemed to fight wickedly.
WHAM!
Until a shovel cracked its tiny skull open.
Barbaric.
That is the only thought that comes to mind in all of this, pure barbarism. The fact that this is half a show, and somehow also turning into a live performance infomercial for whatever these Z-Rot Incinerators really are.
Scoop, shovel, scoop, shovel.
The hazmat covered workers quickly shovel up the rotting, but often still twitching animals. Then in a slow but steady process, they take the corpses to the Z-Rot Incinerator, and turn to get more.
“As you can see this is the industrial sized one that has been gifted to the arena by the Nostrylvanian Revolutionary Guard. This one has been made clear so we can see the process and how not a speck of contamination leaves that giant unit. Look at how those deer, sheep, and even monstrous bunnies all fit in easily,” Sal continues.
For his part, I must admit that Sal is good. I don’t know if he is reading from a card with items to highlight, or if he is able to make this up on the spot, but he continues to give a play by play of what the Guard members are doing, making it so there is some excitement at what is happening.
Finally, the last animal gets put into the clear incinerator, where they lock the door, “now they are applying the airtight sealant, and giving it a full ten seconds to form properly.”
The guards apply something that looks like a quick drying waxy foam substance to the outline of the door and its hinges. Then after a few seconds, they nod, give the foam a quick tap proving that it is solid.
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“Now a registered Pyromancer comes in, and placing their hands on one of the designated heating spots, they use their highest caliber Fire attuned Skill and watch as the infestation burns itself away,” Sal talks us through this, again his salesmanship is impeccable. He must have some type of entertainment oriented Class, as he is hard to ignore.
This is also when I find out that I might have a bit of a pyromaniac within me, as I feel myself taking a few steps to get closer. As I swear, I think I see something moving within the flames.
Thump.
Even when doused with acid, and now caught in burning flames a few of the bunnies jump and slam their heads against the hard clear plastic like substance.
Badump, badump.
My heart races at the sight and sound, and even a few of the Guard members also jump back in freight at the sound of the animals trying to break free.
Pop, thump, pop.
Then like hearing a pack of popcorn coming to that sweet moment when it is almost ready to be pulled out, but you are there waiting for that right moment when you get the last kernel and try to avoid getting a bag of burnt corn.
However, this is not popcorn, and the Guard members keep the blaze going well after the last thump is heard. As the animals continue to roast, a thick green cloud of smoke rises from all of the bodies and begins to go upwards. Seeing it, my mind instantly knows it is carcinogenic and will likely kill me a lot faster than smoking did in my past life.
“Now watch as the green Z-Rot infested air rises up through the air filtration systems, working its way through the pipes, twisting and turning as it does. Where it is forced to go through not one, but three water purification channels that catch all the Z-Rot particles from the air, and make it so those same cleaned air particles can now go back and refuel the fire to continue the sealed process. With this luxury edition model, you only have to apply one sealer and worry about four total collection points, the base where ash builds up, and the three water pitchers. If you sign up for any of the packages today, then you will be entitled to one free month of services by Nostrylvania’s finest and only supply of these deluxe burning editions, Zin-Cinerator, remember if you want your Zen you need to have a Zin-Cin,” Sal spoke.
Murmuring.
I could hear the people talking about this in the background, and all I could think was that it was a scam. Well, likely a needed scam, but a scam nonetheless.
“As you can see, the Pyrokinetic on duty is keeping the flames active for at least one more cycle, letting all the air vapors get purified, waiting at least two minutes from the last time green smoke was seen rising from the ashes,” Sal spoke, and as he did, I could all but hear the cringe in his voice.
Yeah, I agree, that does not sound that sanitary.
“Now, to showcase the effectiveness of their incinerators, the Nostrylvanian Revolutionary Guard Members will break the seal, and open the door. Believing so much in their products that they are all going to take off their masks and breathe in from the fumes that escape,” Sal comments and with that, each of the guard members all get in a line and begin taking off their masks.
Seeing them, I need to figure out how they all look like Scandinavian gods and goddesses, but they are all beautiful. Tall, gracefully symmetric features that are all different but all have the same long effortlessly beautiful looks to them. Even while covered in sweat from having to work near a fire in thick industrial protected suits.
Just looking at them, I realize these people were chosen specifically because of their beauty, because we would be able to notice any blemish that appeared on them right away, and I was sick. Sick of the people who would do this to their own country members to try to sell a product to foreign investors, and sick that I was powerless to stop it. Then I realized, I wasn’t powerless, not at all.
“WAIT!” I shout out, my voice booming as I make sure to project so that everyone around me and even Sal up in the booth knows that I am not going to let this slide.
Then moving forward, I feel bile rise in my throat as I speak. I’ve seen a lot of casual violence thrown against the young who don’t know any better and who feel that they are immortal, that is why I can’t let this happen. These Guardsmen, are nothing more than glorified beautiful teenagers who don’t know any better. While the capitalists that are funding them, they are old enough to know the dangers and to be rich enough to not care about possible repercussions. That is why I make my stand now.
“You can kill yourselves when you are under some other Healer’s purview, but while you all are here, you are under my protection.” I state, one word per step, as I force my way through the stunned and confused guards. Some look like they want to protest, but they don’t know what they are protesting, as I am not targeting any of them.
That’s when I make my way forward to the super crazy clear incinerator thing and use Trash on it, focusing on cleaning everything inside. All the charred marks from where tiny burning zombie bunnies tried to jump their way out. A hoof print from where a sheep tried to kick the wall, even all the ashes, and the corrupted water from the three filtration systems up top. All of them are cleaned, leaving it so that the box is as pure and pristine as when it first arrived. Then for added bonus, I make sure to dissolve the waxy sealant used, on the off chance that it might have gotten some toxins in it as well.
“What?” The crowd and the guardsmen speak.
Then by the time I am done, I can hear them all let out a, “whoa!”
Done with my part, I tell them, “there, now you can try to kill yourselves!”
With that, I turn my back on the lot of them and walk over to take my place between Markan and Mr. Yi. Markan looks like he is barely able to restrain a full-on belly laugh. While Mr. Yi looks very pleased, at least I think that’s what his broad smirk means.
Standing next to the two of them, I speak up.
“Sorry about breaking the whole not talking bit,” I reply, realizing I have broken that rule a lot.
“The no talking rule?” Markan asks confusedly, then after a moment’s pause he realizes, “oh yeah, we thought that would help you level up your Actor Skill faster so we could teach you more Skills to help keep you alive longer.”
“What? You lied to me?” I spit back.
“We didn’t lie, you just never asked for clarification,” Markan replies.
“That’s because I was not allowed to talk,” I hiss back.
“And that is why you have been a model student,” Markan continues, still just adding to my anger.
Then I am tempted to check and see if he right, to check out the progress of all of my Skills to this point, but I stop myself realizing that I made a deal and I still have two days left until Sunday, when I can check my progress.
“Fine,” I say to both Markan and myself, as I watch as the Nostrylvanian Guard members all take turns sticking their heads in the furnace, only to come back with a giant smile on their faces.
Seeing that, I just shake my head at their stupidity. Just when I am about to relax, thinking I am done, Markan hits me with the next words of encouragement.
“Ready to do that three more times?” He asks.
“Three?”
“Yeah, two more groups of male tamers, followed by the second group of female tamers, then the Nostrylvanian funded portion of today’s matches will be over,” Markan concluded.
And like that, I realized it wasn’t politics that I hated. At least not just politics, but corporations funding bad political decisions that seemed to be my new focus of ire.
There were my thoughts as the first hill of animals was carted off, and replaced by another equally disturbing group of infected animals.
At least, we are getting rid of the Z-Rot, was my only thought that helped make this all bearable.
per day, until our reign on the top 50 stops.
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