Shattering Humanity-Chapter 407: Buzz’s Incredibly Advantageous (But Tragically Self-Destructive) Mental Conditions

Chapter 407: Buzz’s Incredibly Advantageous (But Tragically Self-Destructive) Mental Conditions

’Then the word of the Lord came to me: "Son of man, how does the wood of the vine, that branch among the trees of the forest, compare to any other wood?

Can wood be taken from it to make something useful? Or can anyone make a peg from it to hang things on?

In fact, it is put into the fire as fuel. The fire devours both of its ends, and the middle is charred. Can it be useful for anything?

Even when it was whole it could not be made into a useful object. How much less can it ever be made into anything useful when the fire has devoured it and it is charred!"

Therefore, this is what the Lord God says, "Like the wood of the vine among the trees of the forest, which I have given to the fire as fuel, so I will give up the residents of Jerusalem. I will turn against them. They may have escaped from the fire, but it will still consume them. And you will know that I am the Lord when I turn against them.

I will make the land desolate because they have acted unfaithfully."

This is the declaration of the Lord God.’ -Ezekiel 15

___________________

[MamMon Apartments: Eastern Side]

On the top floor of the middle most living complex, in a dark and quiet bedroom, the small engineer Buzz wakes up. In surprising fashion, she opens her right lime green human eye and left alien symbiote eye, then sits up quickly.

The heterospecies ocular sensors combine with the oddly scary but happy, and energetic expression of the actively acreative minded young lady.

Buzz: "It’s tiiiime to create!"

From close by there is a friendly familiar voice.

Nomad: "Took you long enough to freakin’ wake up, Puppy."

The young woman turns her upper body as if robotically and sees her blood related Aunt in a chair by her bedside.

The Auntie is smirking with her backwards hat over shoulder length burgundy shaded hair, and off duty military attire over her large folded biceps and wide shoulders.

Upon seeing her loving family member, Buzz’s face lights up even happier and she jumps out of bed.

Buzz: "NahNah Nomiiii, I had a dream last night and I saw a new invention I want to start on it right away!

I need any type of firearm, preferably a 9 millimeter.

At least 2 pounds of zirconium powder.

Another 2 pounds of platinum. It can be in bars, powder, or chips. Doesn’t matter what form it can manage.

We will have to catch a few of those ’Levitates’ for effectiveness tests.

Let’s see, let’s see. What else..."

She humorously taps her foot in a rapid rate on the floor. Hyperfocusing, and trying to organize in her head, all the supplies she will need to make her most recent dream come to life.

Her less creative and energized Aunt however, softly laughs at her genius of a niece.

Nomad: "I’m sure Mizz MamMon DæMon will have what you’re looking for.

You can ask her when she gets back, it shouldn’t be too much longer.

While you were K.O.’d last night she informed me she would return around this time to check on you."

Those words make Buzz finally take her mind away from her newest brainchild and remembers everything that had happened the day before.

Buzz: "Oh yea...

I forgot.

All of my friends...

They’re dead...

Except..."

Also recalling the heartbreak of finding out her once trusted and respected Don Laban DaeMon sold out the entire city of Roronora, only for her family to be spared, and joined the same organization who orchestrated the city wide massacre.

Sitting back down on the bed, her head down, there is a complete 180° flip in Buzz’s attitude. The just recently bright and inspired mind goes so dark, it almost creates a feeling of disparity that radiates through the air.

The worried caretaker examines her responsibility.

Nomad(thinking): "Buzz hasn’t had any of her medications for a while now.

Her ADHD is fine, I’d say outright useful in this apocalypse...but her severe bipolar disorder..."

Realizing the emotional pain her younger family member is going through, the Aunt shows pity for her bipolar diagnosed niece and gets up from her chair. She takes the few steps to reach the gloomy, petite, inventor and tightly embraces her.

Nomad: "Thank you for coming back to save me, Puppy.

You told me how you had a well established life and a place of safety while we were separated the past few years. You could have stayed there and forgotten about me, but once I saw your cute button nose again, I was glad I hadn’t given up hope."

The kind, genuine words don’t seem to reach the depths of Buzz’s mental darkness, but a confident voice makes them perk up.

MaMmon DæMon: "Raise your head, ’Crafter of Dreams’.

The world is your sandbox."

Surprising the Aunt and niece, both women quickly turn to see the silent, stealthy DæMon twin intruding on their close hearted family talk.

MaMmon DæMon: "Good Morning, I hope you’re well rested, because today will be quite the milestone in human history."

With sadness still in her lime green eye, Buzz side eyes her hostess.

Buzz: "Oh yea, you’re that woman with almost the same name as Laban."

Nomad: "If you don’t mind me asking Mizz MamMon, but when you say ’today will be a milestone in history’, do you mean that pink haired Sheriff has declared war on you for killing her men?"

MaMmon DæMon hides a snicker behind gold painted nails.

MaMmon DæMon: "Can the original aggressors, chasers, and attackers successfully victimize themselves, when their multiple attempts of intimidation are easily thwarted? As the ’victims’ they continue to fight, but not as an act of pride, but out of spite.

Where do these ideas of pretentious grandiosity come from?

How can a conscious mind lack so much self awareness, as to believe the actual victims of the world retaliate back through violence?"

Now comically confused, both Nomad and Buzz silently look at each other, then back at the DæMon twin in her soliloquy.

MaMmon DæMon: "The truest victims in this fated existence are those who can’t fight or won’t fight back.

A victim is someone who has been oppressed, but doesn’t complain.

A victim is someone who has had happiness stripped from them, when so little was desired to begin with.

A victim lives on not with vengeance, but perseverance.

A victim is someone who is knocked to the ground, forced to stand back up... just to be knocked back down, and forced to stand back up again..."

Clearly speaking from personal experience, MaMmon DæMon looks out the window towards the forest. Unable to see the base of the tree line, but the top of the overgrown forest is visible, her matching blue eyes show hints of sadness and regret.

Closing them for a moment, she opens them and looks directly at her two new guests.

MaMmon DæMon: "...But rest assured, I am no longer a victim."

Buzz and Nomad both admire the badassedness of the half Valkyrie. The Aunt stands straight up, rubs the back of her own head and nervously chuckles.

Nomad: "Well I don’t know what that was all about, but if you need bodies to fight back against that bitch’s army, I’m ready for action."

MaMmon looks passed the woman with warrior initiative, and at the still half depressed engineer sitting on the bed.

She smiles the same way as her identical sister upon realizing her ’chess set’ is almost complete.

MaMmon DæMon: "If I’m not mistaken, I heard you like to build and create, ’Buzz’.

Especially designing technology that benefits those not as intelligent and gifted as yourself."

Buzz: "Yea, what of it?

I’ll just make something I believe to be useful, and for the people I trust. Just for everyone to die.

My creations not only couldn’t save Roronora City, but the person I trusted is actually so incredibly cowardly as to submit herself over to the enemy as a degrading trophy.

I gave my schematics to the SunSwords and HeatHolsters to that pink eyed skank too, but in the end we became enemies."

Nomad: "That’s completely my fault.

I couldn’t leave all the others to be mistreated and abused, while I walked away by an unearned family pardon. I dragged you along into our escape plan, and you made enemies because of my decisions...

I’m sorry, Puppy..."

Sensing the overall sullen mood of the room, the all powerful DæMon attempts to change their attitudes.

MaMmon DæMon: "Now when I heard you say zirconium powder, how much did you say you needed?

Was it 2 pounds or 10 pounds?"

Buzz’s attention quickly shift upon the revelation that there is an abundance of rare and otherwise expensive crafting materials for her to experiment and create with.

Buzz: "Wh-What?

You actually have that much?"

MaMmon DæMon(nods): "Of course, Dear.

I can get you any materials or supplies needed to make your dreams come true."

As if unable to control her hyperactive energy, the adorable inventor jumps up from the bed, quickly bobbing up and down, in place, and in unison with her black and teal hair.

Buzz: "Can I get a workshop tall enough to build lower atmosphere rockets?!?!"

Unsure of how to react to the young builder’s request, MaMmon looks over at the girl’s Aunt and the tall, muscular woman shrugs her shoulders.

Nomad: "And if it’s too much trouble, can we ask if you have certain prescription medications?

Yea know, for my niece’s mental sake."

MaMmon smiles and chuckles at the enthusiasm.

MaMmon DæMon: "As long as her unique sense of creativity doesn’t get negatively affected by the meds, I don’t see why not."