Ⅱ Pepsi of Kvintero Ⅱ

Pepsi’s banjo was never tuned right. Just when she thought she had it, the pegs turned all on their own from the tension on her crappy strings. She never had a Gosh Darn Great Banjo Day, an ancient English term used to remember which notes went where, but it didn't bother her too much. Playing banjo wasn't as crucial to her well-being as her true calling was; good old fashioned can-fishin’.

The short, skinny little thing was lying lazily on her porch swing, dressed in a worn green tank and cargo shorts. Her smooth, dark hair was tucked behind her ears, kept back by an ancient artifact known as a ‘baseball hat’ that read in her favorite dead language: Women Love Me, Fish Fear Me. The message inspired her, for some reason, to always strive to seize the day. After all, being Kvintero’s last living anthropologist wasn't an easy job. 

The decrepit sign above the door to Pepsi’s house read Arkivo, letting citizens of the world know this was an archive with rich history and endless knowledge to come explore. Every morning, she rose early to wedge open her front door and sit on the porch to welcome anyone who happened by to learn about all the wonders of the universe. Every morning, she waited and waited, playing banjo on her swing, wishing for anyone to happen by. On her designated excavatin’ hour she would mosey down the marshland trail to the bayou and cast her line in the waters to fish up dead things and garbage from the polluted water. Every now and then she'd get an alive-fish and cook herself a wondrous dinner meal. Most of the time it was bottles and cans, which she didn't quite mind either. The especially nice types were cleaned off the best she could and cataloged in her mini museum. She did some mighty fine research in the nighttime, when she would stay up late to read dusty old books and try and match her artifact collection to the descriptions in them. Finally, when Pepsi was completely-certain, and not mostly-certain as she didn't like to be, she would write up a plaque to display with her relics. 

It was on this day, at the very start of harvest time of the year 196 A.W. (after war) that a fine looking stranger was indeed happening by. Pepsi froze on her swing and immediately wondered if she had been drinking moonshine instead of water, so that she'd hallucinate such an odd occurrence. No, really! It was a patron of the archives, a lone traveler, looking like a hot and sweaty mess on the road. The stranger’s curly hair was covered in leaves and sticks, and her dark circles proved she was in need of a cool drink and a history lesson. 

“Howdy!” Pepsi yelled from her porch. She threw her banjo which made an awful sound and rushed to the banister. “How would you like to see a real-life Pepsi bottle up close?”

Esther felt awful. She had been walking through the desert and woods for weeks. In sandals. She had relied on hunting for food and camping for shelter, and was not in the mood to be pestered. As soon as I reach the marshlands, she thought to motivate herself, I will jump into the cool water and wash all this horrible sweat off.

Pepsi thought she must be deaf. She started waving both arms and yelling louder. “I said hey to you, wandering stranger! Don't you know I've got the rarest relics in the West?”

Esther stopped walking. She turned around and stared Pepsi down with a glare that said murder. “I heard you!” She yelled aggressively. “Nobody cares about your stupid artifacts. If you want to be useful you can offer me some fucking water.”

Pepsi glared, fingernails digging into the railing of her porch fence. She grit her teeth in anger and let out a huff. “Well, fine then!” She snapped back. “Come in and get a drink. I've got a fridge full of ‘em.”

Esther looked pleasantly surprised. Her brows softened and she gave her a shrug. “Well in that case, you got yourself a deal.”

Pepsi frowned as Esther came up the steps. After all these years of waiting, her only patron was a bitch. She forced the door open in a swift movement of her arm and made a gesture for her to come inside, all while staring her down rudely. “Your highness.” Pepsi welcomed her sarcastically. Once Esther was fully inside, Pepsi shook her head and whispered to herself. “Fuckin’ plebs.”

“Is this how you greet all your customers?” Esther scoffed. “No wonder you're so desperate for business.” She let Pepsi lead her into a tight kitchen full of strange contraptions she had never seen. Her eyes widened when Pepsi pulled the door to the fridge open, revealing a magically cool interior full of re-filled plastic water bottles. Esther cautiously reached inside, touched a bottle, then gasped and retracted her hand. 

Pepsi chuckled smugly at her response. “What, never seen a fridge before? You're not so above artifacts now are you.”

“What is it?” Esther was too bewildered to keep up her aggressive act. 

“I told you, a fridge dammit! It keeps the stuff inside cool. I would explain how it really works but you probably wouldn't get it.”

“You're really condescending, you know that?” Esther sighed and pulled out a water bottle. She held it in both hands and examined it from top to bottom. There was a partially torn label on the outside that read Sprite. She shook the clear liquid inside and reached for the cap, trying to pull it off like a cork. It didn't budge. She tried twisting it, and eventually it came undone, at the expense of spilling down the front of her dress. She grunted and smelled the water to check it before drinking from the lip.

Pepsi leaned on her counter, staring at Esther with an entertained smile as she drank. “Careful with the bottle. They're impossible to un-crush if you squeeze them too hard. I sanitize them after fishing them out of the bayou. And the water inside is triple filtered, you won't find quality like that just anywhere.”

Esther didn't stop drinking until it was empty. She panted when she was done and capped the bottle. She placed it on the counter and immediately reached for a second one. She hadn't realized how dehydrated she was until now. 

Pepsi's smile faded the more she looked at the beautiful stranger. She was covered in dirt, sunburned slightly, and she couldn't ignore the streaks of blood on her face. They were peculiarly symmetrical and even looked intentional. Pepsi bit her lip, worried by her initial hypothesis. 

“Are you a serial killer?” Pepsi asked. 

Esther finished her second bottle and coughed to clear her throat. “What?” She asked, turning towards Pepsi to fully reveal the blood on her face. “What gives you that impression?”

Pepsi blinked and fiddled with her fingers. She shrugged. “Oh nothing. Just that you appear to have people-blood on your face, and it looks like it's on purpose.” 

Esther paused, breathing in the silent memory. She let it out and looked down at the bottle in her hand solemnly. “Well you're not wrong about that.” She sighed. “But I'm not the murderer. It was soldiers from Oktero. They raided my village, I've been wandering the desert ever since trying to get here.”

Pepsi raised a brow suspiciously. “So, soldiers invaded your village and your first thought was to visit a museum?”

“I didn't come for your stupid museum!” Esther shouted. Pepsi jumped and took a step back, her heart racing. Esther groaned and scuffed her sandal on the floor. “Sorry. I've just been having the worst month of my entire life, is all.”

Pepsi frowned and looked up at her. Esther looked wounded- more on the inside than the outside. Pepsi rubbed her own arms and thought quietly for a minute as Esther rummaged through her satchel. “They raided mine too.” She said after a while. 

Esther’s pet sand-fox, who had been named Bero for the berries she liked to eat, popped her head out of the satchel to see what was going on. Esther held a water bottle out for her to drink from while she turned back to look at Pepsi. “Oktero raids Kvintero too?” She asked.

Pepsi laughed bitterly. “There's nowhere those tribes wouldn't raid if they had the chance to. Okteros are brain-dead. They never think before acting. They burned my town to the ground just to steal our food. They took my geppy when I was just 20, now all I've got left is my museum.” She reached for the dirty dishes and began scrubbing them down, trying to think a little less about those times. The fires still burned fresh in her head. However, something Esther had said came back to her. “What do you mean, they raid Kvintero too?”

Bero chirped and Esther realized she was spilling water down her chest. She quickly set the bottle down and cradled the little fox in her arms. “I… I was just wondering…” How could she avoid it now? “Since I'm not- not from around here.”

Pepsi dropped a plate into the sink and it cracked. She backed away, staring at Esther with huge eyes. A realization. Now it made sense. “You're from Oktero.” Her voice shook. 

“I'm not here to hurt anyone.” Esther promised. She frowned at Pepsi's worried stare and placed Bero back in her pouch. “I'm from the Balanced Tribe. We wear these markings to remind ourselves not to become like the armies that hurt people. We don't believe in warfare, only self defense. That's why they came for us. They killed our children, and they took my family to the front line against Sestero.” 

“The great war.” Pepsi breathed in disbelief. She had read of a great war between Oktero and Sestero, but it was uncertain which side had first betrayed the other. And oh, how she hated uncertainties in history. The ways misunderstandings could create horrible violence was the whole reason for her studies. 

Esther reached behind her and pulled out the sword. She held it by the blade, offering it to Pepsi to take a look. “You know, I said I didn't have time for a museum but, if anyone can help me now it's probably you. I need to save my family. That is- if I can even find them-” she paused, the depressing look of defeat settling over her like a cloud. “If they're still alive. But if they are, this is the only thing I have that can help- whether I have to trade it for their lives or use it to kill the whole army. I found it in our cellar, and it said Sestero on the box. I have no idea how it got there.”

Pepsi timidly took the sword in her hands and examined every inch. The jewel’s inscription, for peace, caused her to gasp. “You have no idea what you just found!”

Esther blinked at her, completely lost. “Uh, yeah. That's why I'm asking you.”

“This isn't just a sword!” Pepsi exclaimed. “This is a peace treaty! Well I'm… mostly-certain.” Her tone shifted into a more anxious one. 

“A peace treaty? Between Oktero and Sestero?” Esther asked. “If it was a peace treaty, why wouldn’t Sestero have it instead of us?”

“Because it was stolen back.” Pepsi said thoughtfully. She nodded, it was all adding up. “Yes, I’ve read about these swords. Some tribes in Oktero gave them as treaties, but once they get stolen back through the war, people forget they ever existed. I’ll bet you ten Sprite bottles this sword was planted back at your tribe to prolong the war by one of those raider tribes.”

Esther reached to touch the sword with Pepsi. Their hands wandered over the smooth blade and met at the hilt, fingers brushing one another for an instant. Their eyes met momentarily. “Uh-” Esther took her hand away. “So you're telling me, there's a chance that if I return this sword it could end the entire war?”

“Hey I can't make any promises, but if you want to look through the archive I'd be happy to show you the history. If this is all you've got to offer Sestero and get your family back, I'd say this is the best item you could have possibly found. If you didn't have such an important bargain to make for it, I know I'd offer you anything you wanted to have it in my collection.” Pepsi could only dream of such an artifact to grace her museum.

Esther awed at the sword for a moment more before she took it and slid it back into its baldric. She smiled and bowed her head to brush her antennae against Pepsi’s. “Thank you for all your help. I shouldn't have insulted your museum, I would love to see the archive. I'm Esther, by the way.” 

Pepsi grinned and touched their heads with such enthusiasm she almost gave her a concussion. Esther was like a piece of potatonut pie- her energy felt as good as she looked. “Now we're talking! I'm Pepsi. Right this way.” 

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