What Has My Life Come To? A Totally Canonical Neptunia Someday-Saga

Fucking Murphy's Law

SWOOOSH!!

SKRRRRRRRT!!

FROOWM!!

PRAP-PRAP-PRAP-PRAP!!!

CRASH!!!
.
.
.

The radio continued humming to the tune of an obscure station exclusively playing underground improvisational jazz rock.

BANG-BANG, BANG-BANG!!

CROOOOOOOooooommm

A cacaphony of dissonance clattered through the smouldering air, eerily reminiscent of a dog whistle made for humans, but it was totally supposed to be like that. It's just that your uncultured mind wouldn't get the cerebral melodies and deliberately disorienting harmonics, with their atonal shifts that hark back to the old east-asian themes of clashing ideals and discordant harmony. Hoo boy did those cerebral harmonics shift atonaly, they discorded the ever loving fuck out of Nepgear's amygdala to the wretched rythm of a horrifying car crash, only marginally worse than the one she was currently dragging Neptune and herself out of.

Nepgear flopped spreadeagled onto the field while panting, her clothes were torn and stained with blood. She looked to her sister scruffed and dirty but otherwise fine, she heaved a sigh of relief then turned her thoughts to what had just happened.

Fwoooorm. It all felt like a blur. She remembered screaming.

PPPPRRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!

Oh man was there screaming, delerious cries of sleepy confusion thrown into a blender and run on crush. She remembered the-

CRASH!!!

The flips-

PRAP-PRAP-PRAP-PRAP-PRAP!!

The world around them spiraling in deathly chaos as they-

FWOOOOOOOOWOOOOWOOOWOOOWOOWOOOOOO!!

"WHAT THE *BLOOP* IS THAT *BLOOOOOOP* NOISE!!!" She yelled, sparing not a moment's hesitation as she grasped for a large piece of debris and hurled it at the radio, spurring it into an electrical seizure followed immediately by silence, satisfied she nestled back into her bed of dirt and bodily fluids, only then did she actually think to look at the car and confirmed what Murphy's Law had already taught her to expect.

Nepgear's 1990 corolla rested gently on the dirt exactly as if they hadn't just flipped through a barbed wire fence and skirted through 7 inches of earth. Not to say that it was unharmed, it was just that Ol' Reliable had that permanent beater charm of being run through a tumble dryer with a barrel of mud and a couple large cinder blocks. The only standout difference between how her car had looked yesterday and how it looked now was that instead of the windshield being cracked, it was now nonexistant, that and it was on fire, a problem that didn't bother Nepgear anywhere near as much as it should have.

But then again. What the hell was she going to do about it? Drape it with a jacket? Throw dirt on it? Find a bucket to spit in? It was too late, soon it would be leaving for automobile heaven and its long deserved rest, god bless its soul.

An admittedly bizarre feeling crept towards her heart. She felt strangely mournful, like her grandpa was on his deathbed or something and a strong urge struck her, she wanted to get up and hold Ol' Reliable's equivalent of hands during these final moments, to watch the shine fade from its sole headlight while gently weeping, reminiscing of all the money she had saved on gas when heading out to sell her paycheck.

Admittedly it was a pretty fuckin' stupid thought, but alas with great effort she stood up and wobbled over to the blazing remnants, obviously keeping a safe distance in case-