Two Foolish Filmmakers

They're glorious, aren't they?

"Yes, sir. They are most impressive." 

The apartment was, to say the least, a peculiar one. One expected some eccentricities in a building as ritzy as this, some questionable choices in design and decor of the living spaces. But those eccentricities usually ran more along the lines of garish rugs and curtains, strange postmodernist art pieces, collections of wine intended for display more than for consumption. The hallmarks of high living usually didn't include dim lighting, an assortment of high-end PCs and gaming consoles of all varieties connected by a tangle of wires to an oversized home theater system, stacks of manga, the soft and quiet music of a certain Kanade Amou setting the mood, walls plastered with posters of idols and bands from the other side of the world, or shelves sagging under the weight of hundreds of colorful plastic figurines. And yet, those were the traits that defined this Manhattan apartment, this cramped little home which looked as though it had been put together by some interior designer who intended to capture in the arrangement of the space every stereotype of a NEET they could call to mind. And that was not to mention the various mechanical parts which were strewn about the floor, carelessly dumped wherever it had been convenient for the owner to do so. 

And in front of one of those aforementioned shelves stand a fairly young-looking, pasty man who, between his flaming red hair and questionable choice of an outfit, matched the apartment itself in terms of strangeness, and a vaguely humanoid robot in a maid outfit. The man lifts up one of the figurines - a mostly pink, seemingly misshapen one - holding it from its base and waving it through the air, gushing about while the robot carries on its task of dusting the shelves and the figurines on them. 

I told you how I made them all myself, right? It wasn't easy, but I think I really nailed 'em. It took me three hours to get the details on this Blasto just right, but, wew, it's a beauty. Amazing what you can do with a mind like mine and a 3D printer.

"Yes, sir. It is a testament to your genius." 

The robot may speak words of praise, but its tone remains completely flat. It could have as easily have delivered news of the impending apocalypse, and a disinterested listener would have made no distinction. Does its master seem bothered in the slightest by the monotone response? Not at all. On the contrary, he launches into a dramatic monologue, flinging his arm out - all the while gripping tightly to his prized figurine - and bringing the other to his chest so he can cover his hand with his heart. 

I know, I know. I'm too smart for my own good. It's who I am. Jack Spicer, stunning genius, they call me! 

"Yes, sir. They are most impressive." 

IIII'mmm gonna need to make your response selecting routine more sensitive to what we call context clues... 

And that seems to do it, that slip-up on the robot's part taking the wind out of Jack's sails as his posture slumps and he grumbles. Setting his figurine back on the shelf, he glares at his robotic houskeeper. His arms crossed, he lets his eyes wander around the room. He was bored. But what was there to do? His game collection? No, he had been up until three in the morning last night working on those. Browse memes on the Internet? No, that wouldn't do either. He had an itch to do something, to accomplish something, but what was there? His ultimate creation was already finished… not that he'd ever have the nerve to go and use it for its intended purpose, of course, but he could dream…. 

After mulling it over and pouting, his gaze settles on his workbench and the 3D printer atop it. Well, if there was nothing else to do, he could make another figurine, couldn't he? The thought perks him up for a moment, but he snaps back to pouting as soon as he remembers the one obstacle that had been keeping him from making more for days now - he had already created figurines for all the Kobbers he had enough information on to faithfully recreate in miniature. He'd been obsessed with the group ever since he had learned about them through a show he had picked up while scanning the airwaves for signals he could intercept and decrypt with his custom receiver. On one lucky night, he had pointed his receiver to the right area of the sky to pick up on signals coming from a station broadcast by Olympia TV. He had tuned into a show all about this eclectic mix of heroes, and he had gone to great lengths to ensure he could tune into it religiously each week after his first viewing. He dreamed of being among the Kobbers, of earning their respect and admiration - unaware that, in some ways, his dreams paralleled those of the very Kobber superfan who hosted his new favorite program. At one point, after he had learned about their ongoing conflict, he had even tried to remotely force his way into The Curse's computer systems, to see what intelligence they had on the Kobbers, but he had found their network security to be much more robust than he had anticipated and had been forced to give up without making any progress. After that, he had spent his time creating custom figurines of the Kobbers and their enemies, scanning the news for any reports of their adventures, writing fanfictions and crafting elaborate scenarios in his head, and, of course, preparing that... 

Hey, check the DVR. Any eps of Kaede's Kobber Talk I haven't watched yet? 

 "It would appear not, sir."

Pft, figures. Alright, then is there anything in there I haven't watched yet? 

"There are no new recorded shows. However, it appears that your audition tape has fin-" 

Before the robot can finish, Jack bolts across the room, now full of an energy not unlike the energy of a young child rushing towards a Christmas tree with piles of presents beneath it. His "audition tape" was finished. Oh, how he had waited for this moment. Weeks upon weeks of filming had gone into this, all a part of his perfectionist attempt to get his big debut just right. For the past few days, an editing program he had created had been putting the last pieces in place, making sure every piece of the video was put together properly. The film equipment and green screen haphazardly tucked away in the corner of the apartment spoke to how much he had invested in this project.

Settling into a chair - the very one where he had left a beret and a megaphone sitting in so he could truly get into character when this moment came - in front of his television and with a remote in hand, Jack shouts at no one in particular. 

Alright everybody, places! Now, I know that this is a historic moment, the first screening of my masterpiece, the work of art that's going to get me recognized as a hero among the Kobbers, so your excitement is perfectly understandable. Talking during the first screening, however, is not acceptable. Please, if not for me, keep quiet for posterity. Think of the child- Okay, oh god, oh god, shuuuuuuuuuuusssssssh! It's starting! 

As Jack practically vibrates in his seat, barely restraining himself from squealing, the screen comes to life in a flash, showing Jack in what appears to be a dark, secluded laboratory. The onscreen Jack, his lower body obscured by the countertop in front of him looks right into the camera, flailing his arms as if he were a wannabe rapper. 

Yoooo, what's up, Olympia? It's ya boi, Jack Spicer coming to you live from The Teapot. Yeah, that's right. I said it. The Teapot. I'm hanging here with my main girl Dawn in her super top-secret lab. Turns out, she needed some help with some problem she's been having, and she came to me to see if I could figure it out. We're chill like that. She told me everything, and, within a few hours, I had a solution all worked out for her. 

Yeah. That's just how it is when you're a techno-master like me. I was going to leave her with the solution and let her go off to work on it, but, then she asked if I could come demonstrate it in practice, and, well, what can I say? I'm too much of a nice guy for my own good. I cleared a few more hours out of my schedule to come and show her how it's done. Guess I'm kind of a big name around here these days. I hang with Kobbers left and right. They're always asking me to come help them out of a pinch. Can you blame 'em? Who else could come up with technology like this? 

The onscreen Jack bends down, pulling up with him a moderately sized-device, one with an oversized polished gem-cut ruby embedded in a solid metal cube with a collection of small switches on four of its faces. On the top, next to the ruby itself, was one more switch, an oversized one. He sets it on the counter, flicks the top switch, and gestures to the machine with the same pride most would reserve for presenting their children or the love of their life. 

See this baby? Little tool I whipped up myself. You ever run into a situation where you think, "boy, some telekinetic levitation sure would be nice right about now, but that takes so much mental energy. I just can't focus on anything else when I'm manipulating something with my power"? No, wait. Don't answer that. I know you have. But listen, the solution's simple. All you've gotta do is offload all that mental work to something else. And that's what this here does. Don't believe me? Watch and learn. 

The onscreen Jack flips one of the switches on the side, and, behind him, a cardboard box rises up into the air. With a smug look of satisfaction, he flicks another switch, and a toolbox, its contents spilling out onto the floor as it comes open, rises up next to the cardboard box. Another switch flips, and a metal scrap floats up with them. 

That's right. This magical ruby lets you telekinetically manipulate anything or anyone you want. But I looked at it, and a thought struck me. Why limit yourself to one thing at a time? You can only make them float at this point, but my brilliant invention lets you lift up to twenty items at once and leaves you free to keep your focus on the fight. I know, I know. It's a game-changer, right? But that's how I roll. Ya boi knows what's up. The real power lies in using technology to enhance magical artifacts and to bring them to their full potential. Yep, I'm a wellspring of ideas. I've even cooked myself up a secret weapon that's going to win me the Big Bar Brawl. Well, if I enter. Jack shrugs his shoulders. It's such a surefire win it'd almost be boring. I want everyone else to have their chance. But, hey, I might be a bigtime hero, but I'm still a normal guy. I strap my goggles on over my head just like all of you out there. Stop me if ya ever see me around. I'll sign you an autograph. I- The ringing of a cell phone cuts Jack off, leading him to turn away from the camera. Oh, hang on. I gotta take this. 

The onscreen Jack plays up the call for all its worth, even going so far to unnecessarily repeat the "conversation" that's happening on the other side of the line. Ya got Jack. Huh? Celestia? You want me to come run some improvements on Skeiron? Yeah, I can do that. Clicking off his phone and clicking his machine's main switch off - sending all of the floating items crashing down at once in the process - Jack turns back to the camera. You heard her. Duty calls. Jack's gotta blast, but don't worry. I'm not leaving you anytime soon. Olympia's always going to be safe as long as Jack Spicer, genius hero, is around! 

As the screen goes dark, the real Jack, who has let a single tear stream down his cheek in an overly dramatic fashion and has left his mouth hanging agape, applauds his own film with vigor. Stun-ning. A true masterpiece. I've never seen anything like it. The white balance, the composition, everything was just how I envisioned it. But, whoa whoa whoa, I'm getting ahead of myself. It's not about my opinion. Any good filmmaker knows to wait to see what they critics have to say. So… With a click of a button on his remote, another pre-recorded clip pops up on the screen, this one featuring Jack in his apartment. What do you have to say, Posijack? 

On the screen, Jack brings his palms together, closes his eyes, deeply inhales, and then speaks with all the quiet respectfulness of an art critic at a gallery exhibition. Well Jack, I think what we have here can only be described in one word. Masterpiece. That's what this is. A cinematic achievement in every form. There's a few rough edges. Maybe we lose the "ya boi". It's overdone. But other than that? I don't know what could be better than what we have here. Everything comes together beautifully to tell an irresistible story framed by directorial genius. 

The real Jack mirrors his onscreen counterpart's deep inhalation, contendly letting his pre-recorded self stroke his ego. Strong words. Those are some high praises. I guess this really might be another work of legend from Spicer Productions. But! Before we know for sure, we should check in with our harshest critic. He clicks his remote once more, bringing up yet another pre-recorded video of Jack in his apartment. What do you think, Critijack? 

Onscreen, Jack paces back and forth, muttering under his breath, shaking his head as he raises his voice to make his mutterings more audible. Well Jack, I gotta tell me the truth. I think that this is the most pathetic film I've ever seen, starring the most pathetic man-child I've ever seen. Honestly, I'm ashamed of me. I can't believe that I would ever even think about posting this to the Internet. It's even harder to think that I'm dreaming of leaving for Olympia right afterwards. All I see here is a pathetic man who's so desperate for friends that he spends his sad little life tucked away talking to robots and recording messages for himself because it's the only companionship he has. Do I really think that this is what's going to win us friends? Do I really think that the Kobbers are going to want to have a thing to do with me after they see garbage like this? With a sudden burst of anger, Jack rushes at the camera, his face taking up the entire screen as he shouts. WELL DO I? 

Nearly jumping from his chair to hide behind it, the real Jack ekes out a weak reply. Eep! N-n-no sir!

Onscreen, Jack backs off, but he doesn't take his eyes off the camera, peering right into it - right at himself - the entire time as he speaks. Jack. Come on. We're better than this. Sure, we've failed at everything we've ever tried before. We failed at the corporate world, at academia, at breaking into the movie business, our short art career, becoming an accountant… couldn't hack it as an archeologist after we saw that first snake… couldn't make it when we tried to sell weapons - I still can't believe someone else had the idea to try and sell superweapons to villains before we did… we went for world domination ourselves that one time, but then we ended up crying all morning when we squashed that ladybug… 

As the onscreen Jack rattles off a list of his failures, the real Jack grows increasingly uncomfortable, shifting around in his chair, looking around for a savior as if he were trapped in an awkward conversation. After another minute of listening to himself, he finally elects to hit the fast forward button, waiting another thirty seconds as the onscreen Jack speeds through the remainder of the list. 

...and let's not talk about the time we tried to become a postman. But that's not the point! The point is that this is something we've never tried before! Use that big brain, think about it! We may have failed at everything else, but we've never failed at being a hero before! And there's one part of that video that isn't a lie. You don't need to pretend to be someone you aren't… 

For a brief moment, the real Jack brightens up, looking at his onscreen counterpart with hope in his eyes. The moment doesn't last long, Jack soon casting his gaze downwards as he's gripped by a sudden fear. But... what if they don't like me? 

...because they're going to like our technology, and if we show them the real us, if we don't put on this whole act, they're going to like us, too. Jack, listen to me. This is our one shot. This is our last chance to get out into the world and to stop hiding in the apartment and to stop talking to ourselves. So let me tell me what I'm going to do. Jack makes a fist with one hand, using his other hand to raise his fingers as he starts in on a rousing speech, going all in on the theatrics of the moment. One. We're going to delete this video. Don't post it. Just don't. Two. We're going to get our things, all the tech, all the artifacts, and we're going to get it packed up and make sure it's ready for immediate deployment… 

At this point, the real Jack rises from his chair, slowly finding his own energy and confidence again as he starts to recall his own speech word for word. He joins in with his onscreen counterpart, slowly and quietly at first, but with his volume and intensity rising as the speech continues. Three. We're going to go to Olympia, and the first week of May, we are going to march into that bar the Kobbers congregate in. Four. Then, the first threat that comes our way, we're going to join in and show them how useful we can be. 

Alright, Jack, thanks for the pep talk, but I think I've got it covered from here. Jack Spicer - the real Jack Spicer - clicks his television off as he surveys the room, standing with his shoulders square and his chest puffed up with newfound pride. His voice echoes throughout the room, Jack undeterred even as his upstairs neighbor bangs on the floor in an attempt to tell him to quiet down. 

Get ready, Olympia! Next month, you're going to meet your newest hero. Kobber extraordinaire, heroic genius, Jack Spicer! MWAHAHAHAHA! 

XXX 

Elsewhere in the world, another amateur filmmaker is having a decidedly less thrilling experience…

As you might expect, the Seviper on the island, freed from competition with Zangoose and facing no species which have any innate immunity to their venom…

On the beach of an island in the Kuwahawai Archipelago stands Yuka Suzuki, the sea and setting sun at her back and a camera set up on a large, flat-topped rock in front of her. Next to the camera sits a laptop and a stack of blank DVD discs. Next to the laptop are three disc cases, each of them already labeled. She had prepared the cases and the labels in advance, so that she couldn't talk herself out of making them later. She had addressed one to Lisa Basil, figuring that including video evidence of her research and findings might assist her in convincing Olympia's officials to approve her application for a new business in the city. Another had been addressed to Dr. Professor Doctor. Why? She couldn't answer the question herself. He had inspired her to go through with this, true, but it felt to her more like she was doing it because he was the only connection she had in Olympia… The third case was addressed to Dana Zane, or, really, to the bar she ran. She still wasn't certain whether or not she wanted to send that one. True, she had had some adventures with its patrons, but she didn't feel like she could truly call herself one of them. Yet, the idea of sending a video announcing her plans to them and getting word of mouth spreading early… It only seemed like good business sense... 

But, her eyes looking past the camera and glazed over with a mix of exhaustion and exasperation, Yuka, with her skin - never quite having acclimated to the archipelago's intense sunlight - red all over with sunburn - isn't thinking about any of that. As a matter of fact, she's not thinking much about anything as she runs through her scripted and heavily-rehearsed presentation for the seventh time today, all of her previous takes having been ruined by some event or another. The daylight was fading. Yes, this take was already a mess, but she wasn't going to try this again tomorrow. Nothing catastrophic had happened yet this take, so, even if it wasn't the most professional, she was ready to use this one if it meant her suffering would come to an end. 

And what had caused that suffering? 

One of the causes was Isabela, the Salazzle who, even now, in this seventh take, keeps sticking her hands and snout in front of the camera she was ostensibly supposed to be operating. 

Another source of suffering was Tokaru, the Seviper currently wrapped around her body who had, until she fell asleep minutes ago, been sniping at her "sister," Nephila, the Ariados perched upon Yuka's head. The two of them had been at each other's throats all day, undoubtedly a result of Tokaru's aggressive nature. The Seviper on these islands were aggressive predators, even more so than typical Seviper elsewhere. Usually, Seviper were kept in check by Zangoose. Most Zangoose populations had an unusually high proportion of alleles which favored immunity to toxins, a state of affairs which was only amplified when Seviper populations were around to provide a selective pressure for ever more robust resistance to poison. Almost everywhere, Seviper and Zangoose were locked in an evolutionary arms race, as Seviper venom became more powerful and Zangoose evolved to resist it. It was a simple story, one seen throughout the domains of life, but, here, on the island on which she had captured Tokaru, things had proceeded differently. There were no Zangoose here. When Seviper had arrived on the island, they had decimated the local ecosystem, eating everything in sight and booming in population. Of course, after a short while, the population crashed, the Seviper having eaten all of the easily-accessible food. Soon, the Seviper with weaker venom, the ones which could invest more in early growth and reproduction, came to dominate. Venom was useful enough as a tool for prey capture to be retained, but the venom of these Seviper might as well have been water compared to Seviper populations elsewhere. With competition for food fierce, the biggest driver of selection in the island's Seviper populations became the ability to directly compete with rivals, and the island's Sevipers grew to have ever more aggressive instincts and ever sharper fangs and bladed tails. 

Nephila, who as a sit-and-wait predator tolerated her sister's antics with a great deal of patience, only occasionally spitting a bit of webbing to deter her while she sat comfortably on her perch, had been an accidental capture… sort of. Yuka had felt compelled to remove the Ariados from the island it had been left on, especially once she found out that it was the worst kind of invasive pest. It was devastating the local fauna not because they were ill-equipped to deal with it - there were plenty of other Ariados on the island and the local species were adept at avoiding them, but because it possessed a powerful tool that none of its prey stood a chance against - Egg Moves. Pokémon bred by trainers and then left behind in the wild were among the worst of a conservationist's scourges because they had access to techniques that no wild populations could conceivably have a defense for. They weren't as common as the jokes would imply, but, to a naturalist like Yuka, they were a terror no matter how rare they were. In Nephila's case, she had been using Electroweb to attract and fry swarms of the island's nocturnal insects, drawing in so much food that the other Ariados on the island were starting to starve. Yuka had resolved to remove the troublesome Ariados by capturing it in a trap, but, after a misadventure which ended with her wrapped up in an electrified web, she had been forced to capture it in a Dusk Ball, and she hadn't been able to bring herself to release the critter. 

And while Nephila and Tokaru had bickered, Mephita, the merely months-old Stunky who Yuka had found abandoned, weak and starving, in a den, chased around Lux, the Venomoth Yuka had captured as a part of the same string of events that had led her to capture Nephila. She normally had a policy of never taking in the creatures she studied out of sympathy, but she had made an exception because she hadn't taken in Mephita so much as Mephita had, against all odds, followed Yuka back to the cabin where she was staying. Lux was fairly even-keeled, and he made for a good playmate and babysitter for Mephita… most of the time. When he tired and wanted a break, he would blow Mephita away with a gust of wind, sending the baby of the group scurrying over to Yuka to beg for her trainer to pick her up and coddle her. Now, the sunlight fading fast, Mephita sleeps peacefully, cradled in Yuka's arms, and Lux contentedly flutters next to Yuka, keeping a wary eye on Nephila. 

Oddly enough, Yuka's one saving grace today had been Pepta, the usually-ornery Gulpin who had sat happily for the entire filming process with a pile of berries in front of it, Lux the babysitter helping to keep Mephita from disturbing Now, like so many of her companions, Pepta rests, the sleeping Gulpin sinking into the warm sands as Yuka continues droning on. 

Now, we've covered my research on these islands, and the potential applications of my findings. So we're prepared to turn to the matter of my application for a license to operate a business in Olympia. Please allow me to begin by reviewing the benefits having a consulting service specialized in toxinological matters would bring to the city... 

Once, the toxinologist had considered coming to Olympia her biggest mistake, but now, after five months in Kuwahawai? She couldn't wait to get back to the city in a month's time...