DARK CHRONICLE: "MAX'S DRAFTING ROOM"

by Mythril Moth

2

"Hey, Max?"

"Yeah, Monica?"

"Something's been bothering me for a while." Monica looked around the drafting room at all Max's various folders of invention notes. "You know how you keep making stronger versions of Steve's weapons?" At Max's nod, Monica continued, "The thing is, they all look exactly the same. They're just stronger." She tilted her head. "Why is it you have to get inspiration from a completely different set of random pictures to make a better version of something that looks exactly the same?"

Max opened his mouth to answer, stopped, frowned, and shook his head. "It's complicated."

"Uh-huh, right," Monica said.

"No, really! It's all about how, like, okay...so I made this, but then I see this thing, and I'm thinking 'hey, this could be a lot stronger if it was more like this!'" Max gesticulated with his hands as he spoke. "You see?"

"Not really, no," Monica said, shaking her head. "Nevermind, I guess as long as it works, that's all that matters..."

"Monica! Quick! I need your boobs!" Max blurted as he barged into the room in a breathless rush, his camera swinging around his neck.

"Wh-WHAT?!" Monica gasped, her face burning red as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"No time to explain! Take 'em out!" Max said as he readied his camera.

"M-Max...no!" Monica protested. "No, I'm not letting you take a picture of my breasts!"

"Monica, it's important! Everything's riding on this invention, but I can't do it without you!"

Monica blinked. "W-well..." She sighed. "A-alright..." Her face redder than her hair, she stripped off her top and her bra, then put her arms behind her back and thrust her chest forward. The shutter clicked and the flash flashed.

"Perfect! Thanks." Max turned around and ran off.

"H-hey, wait!" Monica cried, quickly putting her bra and top back on and running after him. When she finally found him, he was hard at work on his drafting table, and three photos were pinned to the idea board: her breasts, the rotating sign on Ferdinand's Chinese Stand, and the decorative lights from one of the shops at Gundorada Workshop. Monica frowned, tilting her head. "What...?"

"You'll see," Max said.

A week later, Monica stood in Palm Brinks' brand new nightclub, staring up at a rotating colored light rig in the middle of the ceiling which consisted of four large, round domes shining different-colored lights on the floor as they spun. She folded her arms and glared at Max. "Seriously?"

"What?" Max replied defensively. "I couldn't open the new nightclub without some really killer lights!"

Monica facepalmed. "You're a jerk, you know that?"

Max found Monica standing before the idea board in his drafting room, hand on her chin in a cute approximation of his thinking pose. "Monica? What's up?"

"Oh, hey Max!" Monica turned to face him, putting a hand on her hip. "I was just trying my hand at this whole inventing thing."

"Oh yeah?" Max walked over to stand beside her, looking at the idea board. "Let's see...huh?" Pinned to the board were three photos: Monica, Max, and a bed. Max scratched his head. "Uhh...what're you supposed to get out of this?"

Monica giggled. "You can't figure it out? Because I already invented it."

Max tilted his head and glanced at her. "Yeah? Well what is it?"

Monica smiled. "I'll give you a hint," she said, putting a hand on her stomach. "It's really small and it takes about nine months to make."

Max blinked in confusion. After a long moment, his eyes widened and his mouth slowly opened in shock. "You mean...?"

"You'd better hurry up and invent a crib and some diapers," Monica said teasingly. "Oh, and pickles and ice cream."

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