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sherwees · 1 year ago

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pizza pizza

cw : very corny pizza boy porn scenario, deepthroating, dumbification, a tinsy tiny bit of fluff, you could tell I had fun with this, colors and links made the fic fun in the process, hendery employee of the month, hendery monster cock, does semen and pizza go together (no? okay then.)

apart of the nct corny porn plots series!

you were hungry as hell.

your stomach caved in with every growl, the intro to that one adult swim show with that one white guy and his friends and it's just beer beer and beer. is that seriously what men only drank? it made your stomach churn, great.. now you were nauseous and hungry.

rolling over sighing, you break your back into an uncanny angle to grab your phone from the floor. you sighed in relief when it came out unblemished, it probably fell when you were having a tantrum earlier about every restaurant being closed.

only little caesars was open.

and you cried.

who wants a greasy pie with cheese and whatever topping, possibly meat in the middle of the night. it'll probably just leave you uncomfortably full and queasy. even the thought at the grease caked up around your mouth was.. ew.. there was a lone chinese restaurant open too but.. just no.

ah yes, maybe you could try going to sleep.

never mind, another fuckass chipotle ad played.

your ears perked to the sizzling and contemporary deep male voice whilst scrolling past an arby's ad, your stomach growled.. to a fucking meat sandwich. oh you were near starvation.

you called up the nearest shop, the receiver sighed before he said, “welcome to.. little caesars.. uhm, how could I help you?” he sounded bummed out but his tone made you roll on your stomach and kick your legs.

“hmmm..– he huffed at your voice– excuse me?”

“what?”

“why'd you do that?”

“do what?”

“THAT.”

he sighs, giving a full visual of the overworked male slumping his shoulders. “do.. what?” the last syllable was dragged out with tiredness.

“you fucking–you let out a dramatic exasperated sigh, attempting to mock him–at me.”

“well maybe–” he paused his objection and realized his actions based off the sudden drop of his tone. “wait.. sorry. uh, I'm just stressed–” he possibly scratched his head based off the small pause. “what do you want..?”

“uhm,” you mumbled, “do you guys still have the pineapple pizza.. urm, special after midnight offer..” it was the cheapest thing on the menu.

“we surely do!” he said weirdly sultry but playfully at the same time. for some reason, an idea popped into your mind.

“um.. what's the total?” you audibly stifled a giggle.

“um.. 7.57.” he mocked you but you didn't process it until way after you got off the phone.

“also.. can you send your hotte–”

“it's only me.” he deadpanned. your smile and giggles dropped, well damn bitch.

��oh.” you hung up and threw your phone across the bed. that was.. uh. em.. urm.. embarrassing. but now you had to wait, confront, apologize to this poor man you managed to stress out within a sentence, go to bed, probably not even eat the pizza, poke the pineapples out and feel embarrassed for the rest of your life.

you spaced out, thinking about the scenarios and possible circumstances you'll take just for him to forgive you. maybe, the second you open the door, you throw yourself into his arms.. maybe, give him a 100 dollar tip.. kiss him.. kill him, hmmmm.. singing confessions II by usher?

the 100 dollar trick will definitely work, but let's double it down to a 20 or a 10.. but first, you gotta find your wallet.

you scrambled to your kitchen to find your purse, rummaging through your lotions, vaselines, lip glosses, car and house keys and finally.. your wallet. opening it, you're met with an array of mismatched cards; victoria secret, bath and body works, marianos..? uhm anyways, your drivers license and your card!

did they take card though?

who even carries bills anymore?

the doorbell rang.

“it's pouring out here! can you open up please, I have your pizza and I really don't wanna get it wet..” his baritone yet desperate voice called from outside the door. you panicked for a bit, hands frantically searching through your papers before you sighed, trudging towards the door.

opening the door, you nearly folded inward at the most delectable man you've ever seen right in front your very eyes. he was literally drenched, his orange shirt clung to his torso; his collar bones being his most prominent feature and the extrusive trail of his abs.

you finally met eyes with him, his brown hair was dewy and besides the vivid familiar smell of pizza, you picked up the scent of rain and nature from him.

why are his eyes so big too..

his nose was really cute and perky too,

ew.. are you checking out the delivery man?!

“pizza! pizza! your double delight.. uh.. hot and ready for a bite!” hendery (you now noticed his name tag) sing-songed, swaying his figure slightly to the imaginary beat.

“here's my card!” he tsked and sighed, gripping the pizza box which you now noticed was weirdly close to his crotch.

“now, why would I take your card..?” he tilted his head with an eyebrow raise, placing one of his hands on his hip.

“because it's the way I'm pay–” hendery rolled his eyes, quite dramatically at your rebuttal and actual stupidness. who the fuck thinks that delivery drivers– especially from a cheap restaurant like little caesars would be carrying a fuckass card reader, that's more for chick fil a.

“does it look like I have a card reader?!” he said monotonous, you noticed that he said it slowly as if you were stupid or something.

oh shit.

his eyes zoned in on your curves before they trailed up to your face, “how bout this, since you're so pretty..” he looked down at the box, sucking his bottom lip before looking back up at you.

“I'll give you it for free, it's on me sweetheart..” his pearly whites flashed for a second in a chaste smile.

“wait? really?!” your stomach dropped in excitement. he reveled in your happiness, he swore your smile was the prettiest.

“they call me the employee of the month for a reason..” hendery said, leaning on the door with the pizza box still tight to his crotch. “how about I come inside, it's pouring out here..” his eyes drifted to the rain jumping off the pavement then back to you with a slight smirk.

“a gift for a gift, yeah?” without waiting for your response, he stepped in with a mischievous grin.

“well, okay then..” you muttered, making sure to keep your eyes on the strange male whilst you shuffle behind him to shut the door.

there was something keeping the box ajar. through the slit, it looked like a tip of something, uhm.. that's not his dick right?

let's hope it's a container of garlic butter.

“uhm, what's that..” the tip of your finger nudged at the foreign object poking out, he hissed at the contact. genuinely, you cannot explain how you felt in that moment. shock, confusion, maybe a bit of terror ran through your body, you tried to pull away but his calloused hand gripped your wrist.

his other hand flicked open the pizza box, was that a pineapple ring around his dick?! your jaw fucking rolled to the ground, why was it so wide, so elongated and veiny and the worst part was.. THAT SHIT WAS LEAKING ALL OVER YOUR PIZZA.

“bro, you're leaking all over my pizza! I was fucking starving!” you whined, snatching the pizza box from his hands and throwing it on the ground.

“well, if you insist..” his hand went to your waist and squeezed before lowering you to your knees slowly. “have a taste..?” his other hand rubbed his massive member leisurely, positioning his cockhead at your pouty lips. “come on now..” he took the pineapple off and threw it on the ground.

you were hesitative, but you at least have to meet him in the middle. you obliged and opened your mouth, looking up at him; you noticed the sharpness of his jaw line. goddamn, he was hot. kitty licking his salty and sweet tip, a blob of precum landed on your top lip causing you to flinch.

he giggled at that. bitchass.

the hand at the back of your hand coerced your head forward, the tang of sweat ran through your taste buds. the taste of pineapple and salt became stronger as he pushed forward and stretched your mouth past your limits, you shivered and moaned. hendery's hand wrapped around your jaw before pressing on your neck, feeling around the bulge of his hefty cock through your skin.

“you're so hungry~ hm?” he ridiculed you before pulling back a bit and slamming himself back in. “don't worry, I'll make sure you're satisfied.” he gripped your locks before maneuvering your head harshly on his member, using your mouth like a cock sleeve.

you gagged, choked and flailed around but he didn't let up, his tip rubbed your tonsils sore. his abdomen was flush with your nose before he pulled out, a trail of spit, phlegm and precum followed.

your face was warm with tears and spit, you looked up at him; he was smirking. hendery suddenly yanked you up and pushed you against the wall, he played with the strings of your pyjama pants. “so fucking cute,” he murmured whilst squeezed your cheeks, his hand was as big as your fucking head.

“tell me what you want, honey..”

“I want my pizz–”

“damn, you'll get your pizza soon!” hendery yelled with wide eyes, shoving his thumb in your mouth. “shit, you're like a fuckin’ baby..” his salty digit rubbed a circle on your tongue, your teeth instinctively grazed the skin of the digit before biting down on it lightly. damn, you were hungry. his free hand shoved your fluffy pants to the floor with a small thud, you winced at the contact of his clammy hand fondling your ass.

it was his turn to fall to his knees, his hands fell to your thighs to squeeze and massage them before he shoved his face inbetween your legs. his tongue spread through your folds, sucking on your clit like a baby bottle.

you moaned and writhed but still had a sense of embarrassment of the sounds that resounded off the walls. he looked up at you with those fuckass doe eyes, you nearly fumbled into a ball of nothing right there. his left moved to your ass but his right stayed at your thighs, your head spun from his doings.

he then started to become reluctant, his eyes rolled back multiple times; immersing himself in the flavors of your savory juices. to be honest, the sounds of him slurping makes you want a baja blast from taco bell.

you just don't know why either.

“fuck do you think you could take me, princess?” hendery pulled away, his mouth messy with slick and a trail of drool dripping and clinging to his chin.

pulling you out of your baja blast daydream, hendery's eyes looked eager and bigg-ER like what the fuck? was he giving you puppy eyes?!

“uhm..” you looked down at his cock, it twitched like it was waving at you. “I'll see.” you shrugged and hendery fucking SMILED. again.

oh my gosh, he's so cuteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

hendery stood up, the height difference was now more intimidating now. you only had view of his neck once he came closer, you were kinda upset but lightened (and tightened) up once his bulbous tip rubbed against your damp hole. you could already tell that he was too big, his tip felt heavy..

“wait..!” you screamed before he pushed in, hendery sighed before looking down at you. his brown pupils bored into your uncertain ones, “what if you tear through my ass and create two holes like some king louis xiv shit..” he gave you another fuckass smile but this one was reassuring, you giggled unironically.

“you'll be fine!” he rolled his eyes but this time with a playful intention and kissed your forehead. after almost going into shock, he pushes himself in; you both grunt at the first contact. the smooth ridges of your pussy gripped him so well, practically milking him; hendery even looked at you to see if you noticed but your eyes were shut trying to accommodate to the monster's intrusion.

his shoulders slumped, guess he'll go easy on you. but you were so beautiful when you struggled.. hendery decided to test the waters once he sheathed at your cervix, he craned his neck to bite yours. you only whimpered and helped once he started to pick up a slow, steady pace just for you. the string in your stomach started to get tangled and soon break, you even started to tear up from the waves of ecstasy that launched throughout your body like mini sparklers.

sooner than later, he started pounding into you and everything around you felt humid.. your inner thighs were a sticky mess, it felt like your neck was being sucked by a vacuum and pricked by a toothpick and coated with hendery's slobber mixed with yours. you didn't even realize your mouth was agape, close it.

“sweetheart– holy shit!” you must've clenched around him or something, you didn't know what was what anymore. you might've even been deranged from the fucking monster cock that alternated your intestines functions and forms. “you're taking me so we-ll..” hendery's voice cracked a bit at the end. his jaw was unhinged, eyes shut until he looked down at the connection of your bodies.

hendery's cock swelled and twitched inside of you, emitting another moan from you and causing you to position your leg up higher. you literally wanted him embedded inside of you at this point.

“I think I'm gon–” you cut yourself off once that one particular thrust threw you off the edge. hendery's abdomen tensed when your walls pulsated around him in an erratic, yet unsteady rhythm. but the thing is, your high wasn't as long lived because once your post nut clarity hit you harder than that one ball during gym class in middle school.

you were fucking.. the pizza man.. in the middle of the night.

LIKE A FUCKING PORNO?

man oh man, you were in the fucking gutter, deep in it.. you felt like there was an audience of ghosts making fun of you, this was so fucking embarassing.

hendery pulled out of you with a pop, everything was black. did you go blind?! oh no, you just had your eyes shut. you opened them and gasped once you realized, the dick was so good, you thought you went blind. he started to gather himself but he snatched glances at you like he wanted to say something or do something. but you only stared at the stairs, what else did he expect?

he was only a delivery boy after all.

“deadass..” you croaked out of the blue, a lazy smile forming at the edge of your lips as you pondered on the unknown idea. hope resonated in his soul and visibly on his face when he turned around. “what if you tried the jizz pizza? the one you had your cock all over earlier..” you asked confidently and with a hint of curiosity, your foot nudged at his with a small snort.

hendery looked at the box, then looked at you with reassurance. it's not like you were daring him or holding him at gun point, it was just question. but something urged him in his heart that made him want to please you for some reason, like he needed to.

“are you serious?” he questioned, concern and something else you couldn't sense was etched in his features.

“yeah, try the jizz pizza!”

taglist : @haechansbbg

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lillaxtrigger · 2 years ago

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Street Smarts: Chapter 16

A worrying groan can’t help but seep out from underneath the time manipulating mob boss’ breath as he looks opposite to his brother sitting on the other side of the table; his eyes peering to the countless other people sitting around them. “Hmm...Cen. I’m not rather comfortable with all this.” he informs his space bending brother. “Bro, relax. Ain’t nobody here know who we are. We’re fine.” “The people here are not my concern. More rather I’m questioning why you insisted on meeting…” Among the people that surround them do they enjoy the freshly prepared ham sandwiches and drinks served to them by the fast food restaurant establishment they sit within; the spacial psychic himself enjoying a fresh delicious steak sandwich, while his time bending brother snacks on a light salad. “In an Arby’s. Rather pedestrian, don’t you suppose?” “Quit being such a prude, man. Wouldn’t kill you to take some time to enjoy the small things, would it?” “A schedule like mine ensures just that, making room for affairs and meetings, arranging where our sellers are stationed, not to mention keeping up with supply and demands; all in the pursuit of our monetary goal.” “All the more why I think taking a break every now and then is all the more deserving. You keep the gears in that head of yours wound to tight and you’ll break down.” “Hmm.” utters Tury as he takes a piece of lettuce out from his salad.

Guiding the fresh green vegetable into his mouth, the time manipulating mob boss takes the time to enjoy the moist flavor the lettuce offers him; swallowing a piece the piece of healthy meal before continuing: “Still, a briefing over the scions wouldn’t hurt. How did everything go after my departure?” “Well...after the stone shot out that little spark from its crack on those three, it wasn’t long before they passed out and caught themselves some fevers. Thought it wasn’t smart to just leave them there; so I just figured why not kill two birds with one stone and haul it and them over to Dr. December.” “That might be for the best, honestly. From what information August had gathered the day we seized the Church; that priest running their syndicate held a power and influence over the aspect of positive emotions the likes of which we had never seen before. Even being able to turn the faith the people held in him into physical form. Not to mention how Wedsle had been bestowed with a similar dose of the stone’s psychic power; a shame he had decided to defect before we could get a full example of his newfound potential. Perhaps keeping them under the doctors watchful eye will give us far more detailed results. So that when all does well for them, we can be confident when it comes to our turn to evolve our own abilities.”

“Ooh...Can’t wait to get a dose of that good juice. Betting the kind of stuff I could do would blow even my mind.” gleefully wonders Cen, before taking another bite of his steak sandwich. “Let’s not jump into this so zealously, we would have to be cautious over our power’s metamorphosis. From what you described, the scions could barely even move, much less fight back during the initial symptoms. We would need to prepare somewhere to stay while we undergo the process. If someone so under us like Wedsle felt confident enough to try and stab us in the back, I’m worried what the scion’s could do after their powers finish evolving and we’re left vulnerable.” “You got someplace in mind?” “Not at the moment. Finding somewhere secluded and out from the public eye in this city is...harder then I anticipated.” “Think you got the wrong idea on that, bro. People aiming for our necks while were out of it, those are the first places they’re gonna check. You gotta play it smarter than that.” “Then what might you suggest?” “Probably the last place they would expect. Someplace where people constantly frequent and just in public.” “Hiding in plain site? It’s risky. But it just might work.”

Before taking another bite out of his salad, a mighty need besieges the mob boss’s lower intestine; one that makes him put down his fork and tell his brother that: “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything while I’m gone.” “Bro, just go piss. What makes you think I’m gonna-” the space bending mob boss jest, his joking attitude dissolving when receiving the worst glare from his time bending brother. “R-right.” With that does Tury get up from his seat to make his way over to the restroom; his spacial bro scoffing off his warning as he’s about to take another bite of his steak sandwich. Phffft. Just a piss break, man. The hell he’s thinking I’m gonna do in the next 5 min-

Piercing through his train of thought like a runaway car mowing through a china shop, an ear piercing cry invades the spacial psychic’s very ears; this horrible noise making his fingers dig into his meal. Glancing back to the booth behind him does Cen then pinpoint the origin of this grating outcry, the shrieks coming from a rowdy and disruptive toddler sitting alongside her parents; every shrieks, every scream, every noise the young little girl made was an assault on the ear drums. Even worse was the girl’s parents, those two motherfuckers were just simply tuning out her constant yelling as they just sit there and eat; not even bothering to quell their kids agonizing and repetitive shrieks that tax at the mind like a pick axe against solid stone. Its fucking bullshit! God dammit! Make your fucking little sperm stain stop screaming already!

Watching the couple simply continue to ignore their screaming little toddler, it was clear that they were not even gonna bother stop her anytime soon; simply complacent in letting the monster keep shouting and yelling for who know’s how long. So to this does the spacial psychic decide to make the little brat shut her mouth himself; his starry night aura seeping out from his body and lunging into the young girl. Slowly but surely, the little toddlers rambunctious outcry start to shrink in tone, her breath drawn out from her over excessive screams; but when attempting to bring air back into her lungs, the much needed breaths of fresh air fail to come.

Fear and panic are quick to set in her young mind as her neck tighten and her face beginning to change color; try as she might to scream out for help, not even a peep can break free from her throat as her parents simply tune her out like they’ve been doing so, not even paying an ounce off attention that their child was suffocating. The toddler clutches at her neck to hope and stop whatever may be strangling her in a desperate plea for air, yet is left more panicked and confused when seeing nothing enveloped around her throat. She feels bizarrely terrified when realizing that nothing was choking her, but rather feels her own neck thinning out, her windpipe turning more slender with every passing moment. Was this it, was her short life destined to be snuffed out by this unforeseen nightmare?

But just when unconsciousness was moments away from taking her; a wayward hand suddenly strikes against the back of the spacial psychic’s head to make him lose focus; her neck swiftly returning to normal so she may breathe once more. The initial anger Cen feels from being struck from behind like this instantly fades when turning back and discovering that backhand belonging to Tury; the timely businessman fixating his dagger eyes staring upon his own brother. Constant coughing and hacking escape from the little girl after regaining her breath; this being enough to finally gain the attention of her parents, who drop their food at the drop of a hat to tend to their child. Discarding their meals, the two of them carrying the little girl off to take care of her right outside.

“Bro...what-” Cen mumbles. “Are you trying to give us away?” he then hears Tury growl into his ear. “Sorry. It was just that kid was being so loud and-” “You should have just went outside. I’ve told you over and over again not to do stuff like this, or it’ll blow our cover. Do you even care about reaching to a billion?” “I do! I do!” “Then stop making this difficult.” “R-right…” the space bending brother meekly responds.

A soft sigh can’t help but escape from the timely mob boss’ mouth when looking upon his brother, shaking his head before he explains how: “Cen, you know I don’t mean to be this harsh on you unless its serious.” “I know.” “So I hope you understand that I am like this with you because I want you to succeed along with me.” “Yeah.” “...So...Where exactly you propose we hide when undergoing our...evolution?” Tury then brings the subject back to. “Okay, so… Your not gonna believe this, but trust me. This’ll be the last place they expect to look.”

The evening cold begins to settle upon the lower end of the city as the chilling air nestles within a lower income neighborhood, its homes and abode proving more on the shoddy side in reflecting the poor situation most of their tenants are trapped in. But somewhere within this hood sits a lone manhole in the middle of a road left holding very few cars rolling through its concrete; the lid rumbling about as something underneath constantly beats against its steel. After taking enough punishment does the metal cover come flying off the road and come plummeting back down onto the sidewalk with a loud clang; several dents left behind on its face by the violet psychic that starts to crawl out from the depths of the sewer. “Phweeh! Finally, fresh air at last.” Wedsle celebrates in his climb out from the manhole. “About time. The smell of piss was starting to burn through my nose.” Satette follows out with. “Least its better than mold ridden fruit.” Tuesco pops out mentioning. “Not that I’m not glad to be out of there too. But what I like to know is where exactly did you end up leading us to, Wedsle? Cause this part of town seems a little hoaky.” questions Thursotte as he’s emerges out from the depths. “Yeah, cause if you just led us through a stank ass sewers for two hours over nothing but shits and giggles; I swear I’m gonna-” Frida remarks, the last of the crew to surface.

“Easy there, gang. I know it’s been a real doozy, but trust when I say we’re exactly where we need to be. A real special spot where those mob fuckers’ll last think to look.” “And what makes you so sure of that?” Sat wonders. “Cause a while back Monty let me in on a good hideout I could use while hiding away from unwanted eyes. Said he used to use it as his personal safe house of sorts, or whenever he and Harley wanted to get up to some fun midnight shenanigans, if you catch my drift.” “Eww.” utters Thurs in disgust. “Point is, it’ll be our base of operations as we work to dismantle the bosses and take their throne right out from under their shit eating grins.” “So why the hell I haven’t heard about this?” Frida demands to know. “Monty had a ton of stuff and secrets he took with him to the grave. He only told me about this last year, I haven’t even seen what it looks like yet.” “You haven’t even been there!?” “Nah, most I got out of him was where it was at. Which should be the first house we see right around this... corner?”

But when making their way around the street corner, Wedsles overwhelming confidence shatters instantly when peering towards the end of the street; all of their eyes laying upon the remains of what was once a small home destroyed beyond recognition. “Oh wow, your right. The perfect place to keep the mob off our ass.” the dimensional psychic sarcastically jests. “What the fuck!?” exclaims Weds, making an urgent dash towards the decrepit home.

Hollowed out and empty, there only stands some doorways and a couple of closed doors surrounded by the wreckage and rubble; no walls, no roof, almost nothing was left to shield the inside from the harsh elements of the outdoors. The purple psychic nonetheless frantically rummages through the rubble and garbage left behind as the rest of his crew catch up to him; the lively psychic among them asking: “So, you sure this is the right place or-” “It’s gotta be! It’s the exact address and everything. I...Search around; there has to be some sort of secret entrance or something.” Upon the purple psychic’s order do the crew turn their efforts to finding any sign of a trap door or secret way into this supposed compound Monty had told Wedsle of; each of them splitting off into different slices of the abode.

Taking to the bathroom, Frida uses her dimensional powers to slip into the long abandoned piping for anything that would hint to there being some unforeseen room; yet quickly comes back up when finding nothing of note worth mentioning. Along the kitchen, Satette knocks over the worn down and broken appliances left behind for what may lay underneath them; though she only discovers nothing but a bunch of moles underneath and digging their way down into the soft soil. Thursotte lends his support when inspecting the backyard behind the home, though finding next to nothing of worth among the stretch of land beside a few withered and dead tree’s among the overgrown grass.

Gathering around what stood as likely the living room of the home, all of them report back to the violet psychic to claim how: “I found nothing.” “Me neither.” “Nada.” “Nope.” “This ain’t making any god damn sense!” barks Wedsle. “Monty talked this place up like it was some kind of safe haven. Said nobody in their right mind would think of checking this place.” “Seems he didn’t pay much mind bothering to tell you everything else.” Thurs mentions. “That, or he was just playing an elaborate joke on you case you wound up getting too nosy.” Sat suggests. “Was...he really just screwing with me?...No...No!”

Among their argumentative disbelief does Tuesco’s attention drift away from the rest of the crew and over towards a lone standing door held in between what likely was the bedroom and the hallway. Catching a little glimmering glow, the former officer strolls on over a couple of knocked over walls to find this light coming from underneath the door; a strange phenomenon indeed as he glance to the broken wall beside the door to see nothing that would give this glow. Though left somewhat cautious over these bizarre happenings, Tuesco approaches the face of the door and clutches the knob; the light on the other side of the door flooding through the dusk as pushes it open.

This overflowing glow catches the rest of the crew’s attention and has them drawn over towards the very same door that their new crew mate had open; Tuesco and the other’s looking in awe past the light to discover the other side of the door holding a whole new room. “Where the hell did…” Frida utters, shifting her sites between the room on the other side of the door and the room on the other side of the wall. When sticking her head out around the door where the walls once stood, the dimensional psychic is left with only more questions than answers as she finds the other side left baron and empty; the door on the other side of the wall remaining closed as the door on their side is left open. “The hell is happening?” “Looks like Tuesco found the answer to our perplexing question. Nice going man.” Sat praises. “Thanks?” “Now the real question is what exactly the answer is.” ponders the purple psychic. The crew wince their eyes to the disrupting glow as they make their way through the mysterious doorway; the last of the dark evening outside vanishing as the last of them shuts the door on the way in.

When their vision fully adjust to the welcoming light, all of them can finally behold the very room that they stand within, finding themselves within the confines of a small furnished lobby adorned with copper decorations to compliment the bronze lined tables and chairs placed across the sides. Along these walls stood well polished mahogany doors with bronze knobs and metal decorative lines that come together to make the shape of a literal face. “Ooh, I am not liking this.” Tuesco mention. “I’m with the fresh meat here. Something about this feels extremely uncanny” adds Frida. “Come on guys. So its a little iffy. Place like this should be perfect for keeping those mob bastards off our asses while we plan our next move. Beside, I ain’t seeing you all come up with any better ideas?” “Wedsle might be right here. We don’t really have that many options when it comes to hideouts here. So it might be best not to look this gift steer in the mouth.” Thursotte chimes in with. “That’s a gift horse in the mouth.” the dimensional psychic correct. “Who’s gifting a horse?” he responds as he strolls over towards one of the bronze lined chairs.

Before the young man could plonk his ass down onto the chairs comfortable looking cushion, Thurs freezes up in the midst of crouching down when hearing Satette demanding for him to: “Don’t sit on that!” “Woah, what!? Why!?” “Just look at the engravings along the seat rim.” Backing away from the cushioned chair, they all pay close attention to the specially carved rim of the seat; the bronze rim welded in a zig zag sort of fashion that nearly resembled a row of teeth. “The rims of the seat both have the exact same sort of pattern.” “There somewhere you’re going with this or you just having a schizophrenia moment?” Weds wonders. In response to the purple psychic’s bit of sass, Satette delves her hand into one of his pockets and quickly pulls out a small bag holding the design of a flowery mountainside; the sound of jingling could be heard as she shakes the little pouch around. A little snicker escapes from Frida as she points to the little bag and asks: “That supposed to be a purse?” “Its a coin pouch! Fuck off!”

The hefty little bag full of coins in her grasp, the lively psychic tosses the pouch towards the very seat Thursotte was moments away from resting on; all the coins held within giving it enough weight to sink into the cushions. And right on the moment that does the chair break apart as the rims that make up its seat swiftly clamp together with a resounding clank; what remained of the seat resembling a pair of bronze teeth having chomped down on the soft cushion. “Agh!” Thursotte yelps, sharing with the rest of the crew’s shock. “I knew it. This place is booby trapped.” Satette concludes. “Okay, yeah. Maybe we should bail.”the violet psychic admits. “Way ahead of you.” claims Tuesco as he bolts for the door they came in on.

Quickly coming to the door, the former officer swiftly attempts to swing the entrance open in hopes of making their escape. yet finds its knob refusing to turn; no matter how much force he puts into turning the bronze handle, it fails to move even an inch away. “You gotta be kidding! Why’s it suddenly locked!?” Amidst the man’s growing panic, Frida pulls him aside from the door and suggest to: “Let me try.” But rather then attempt to turn the knob much like he did, the dimensional psychic instead coats herself in her sky blue aura as she thrusts herself towards the mahogany doors face. Yet instead of merging into the door’s surface like she thought, she instead slams against its face not even a single molecule of her body could so much as slip into its 2nd dimension; the others watching her falls to the floor as Thursotte asks: “Frida, are you okay? “What the fuck is happening? Why ain’t I phasing into this door! Even with all this crappy copper on the face, I should merge into it no problem...Unless…” Turning back towards the others, the sudden dread in her eyes was plain for the rest of the crew to see; all of them soon sharing in that same feeling when hearing her make the realization that: “Guys. Even if we avoid the traps in here, we’ve already fallen for the worst one of them all. This room, maybe even this whole place, it didn’t just come from nowhere. Its a psychic construct!”

“So were just trapped in here with no way out!?” Tuesco starts to panic with. “If this place was made by a psychic, then they gotta know we’re in here. Why else would the door we came into inexplicably lock?” Thursotte evaluates. “So whoever is behind this mess is also our key out of it?” Frida questions “Seems like it. What say we spread out to punch this dicks teeth in till he lets us out?” suggests Satette. “Doesn’t sound like the best strat in this case. Since our guy here has a stranglehold over this place, it’d be easier to pick us off if we split. In any case, we’d be better off staying together.” “Good call, Frids.” Everyone huddle together and watch each others asses. Who know’s what else this dick has in store for us.”

Though before the psychic crew could make any other plans upon these discoveries, the ground under their feet starts to shuffle about; all of them struggling to keep their footing as the whole room starts to swiftly tilt off towards the side. “The whole room’s shifting!” Thurs states. As the furnished room starts to spin off down towards one of the walls, Satette is the first of them to act fast and lunge over towards the top most door; clutching tight onto the knob as she reaches her hand out for the others. “Grab on!” The closest to the lively psychic, Frida is the first to take Sat’s hand and hold on while the room veers towards the side; the boys left struggling to reach as the best Tuesco can do is clutch onto the bottom of Frida’s jeans, struggling to hold on as both Weds and Thurs latch onto his legs. The door underneath them swings open to presents on the other side nothing but a pit of darkness waiting for them. Try as the newcomer might to hold onto the end of the dimensional psychic’s pants, his grip unfortunately slips away as he and the other boys plummet down through the room and down through the door. “No!” cries both of them as the three cast into the darkness on the other side, the door swiftly slamming shut. Before the girls could drop down towards the very door the guys had plummeted into, the whole room starts to shift towards the ceiling; Satette’s grip on the doorknob slipping as both of them drop down to the lobby’s ceiling.

From their tumbling descent Frida the first to rise, the gun woman shaking off her vertigo as she curses: “Dammit! Helluva ride to be put on.” “No no no no no no no!’ Satette utters as she climbs up towards the door the other’s fell into. Twisting the knob and opening the door, she left baffled when discover the infinite void they fell into replaced with yet another room; this one right side up and filled with a couch and flat screen mounted on the wall. Before she could hop into this newfound room, she stops from moving another muscle when the dimensional psychic behind her tells her to: “Sat, girl, calm down.” “But...the guys-” “Will be fine. Long as they’re smart enough to keep together, they can handle whatever is thrown at them.” “But Tuesco. I only taught him the bare basic’s so far. He barely know’s a thing about defending himself from this kind of psychic stuff.” “If Weds and Thursotte are with him, then he’s got nothing to worry about. Long as we play it just as smart, pretty sure all of us’ll breakout of this in one piece.” Frida assures, climbing up to the young woman. “...Right.” Sat responds; the two woman climb out from the entrance lobby together.

Among plummeting through the darkness, the scream from the three guys are all that echoes across the infinite black void that surrounds them; none of them finding a hint of light among the recesses of the void as they descend. Though just when it seemed like they were doomed to a never ending fall into the abyss, they suddenly feel their body’s slam against the tile floor; the shadows surrounding them reseeding as the wall lamps around where they landed come alight. Pushing themselves off of one another from the ground and gaze through to find themselves having landed within what seemed like a clean and well kept kitchen; the marble counter space glistening against the light fixtures.

Cracking his back after such an unexpected crash, Wedsle turn over towards the two others who got swept along for the ride with him and states: “Alright, a little bit of a set back. But if this dandy dick thinks he’s gonna have an easy time slipping into us; we’ll show him how tight we can make things.” “You even know which way this guy might be?” Thurs asks him.

“All this stuff happening and I haven’t even had a bite to eat yet. Wonder if they got any grub stashed in here?” the former officer wonders, strolling towards the door. “Yeah, I- Wait no!” Wedsle exclaims as he see’s Tuesco clutching hold of the fridge’s handle. When upon cracking the ice box door wide open, the former cop is left astonished to discover several firearms stuffed within its icy tomb; a web of string attached to the door pulling onto the numerous guns triggers. Right when the entire arsenal was about to unleash its payload upon the hungry intruder, Thursotte tackles him right out from harms way just as the bullet come flying out from within; the shower of led firing into the other side of the kitchen. “Holy shit!” Tuesco yells. “You okay?” Thurs asks him. “Think so. Thanks for that.” “You’re welcome.”

“Don’t give him that!” Wedsle then jeers “What’s your problem?” Tuesco barks back. “My prob- What the hell is wrong with you! You just ignore the fact that Thurs almost got his ass chomped down by a trap!?” “Well, sorry. Lets see you spend a whole month trapped somewhere with nothing to eat but pomegranates and see how well you can resist cracking open every fridge you come across.”

“I...fuck it. Let’s just go.” the purple psychic suggest, going over towards a door along the end. “Fine by me.” Tuesco says, heading towards the door on the other side. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. The hell you think your going, man?” “I’m going to find a way back to the others.” “Think we’d do that better if we track down whoever’s behind this shuffle room showcase first.” “Forget it. Rather get myself lost then take orders from some reckless purple punk.” “Oh, no way! You seriously doing this whole high horse cop routine now?” “What better time then any, seeing how it was your little stunt that got us trapped in here in the first place.” “Like you can do any better on this sort of shit than us. Probably wind up as another corpse to clean up.” Weds taunts as the former officer starts to head out towards the door. “Whoa, whoa. Tues, hang on.” Thursotte urges as he tries to catch him. “What, your bailing out on me too?” the purple psychic wonders. “Just give me a minute.” he asks of him as he follows after.

Catching the door Tuesco came out from just before it closed, Thursotte keeps his hand on the door handle as he stops the former officer with: “Hey, Tuesco, wait up.” “What, you come here to talk garbage on me too?” “No, I-I just wanted to tell you that...I know what its like to have your whole livelihood ruined right out from under you over something out of your control.” “What the hell sort of gruff you got that can give mine a run for its money?” “More than you’d think. Um...You ever heard of the scandel about a successful startup company that wound up laundering a lot of money?” “I think so, what about it?”

Patiently standing in the middle of the kitchen, Wedsle eventually see the door Tues and Thurs went through open once more; both of them emerging out from the other side; the purple psychic ask: “So, you ready to play nice now?” “Don’t sass me, kid. I ain’t here as part of your click. Only til I get the chance to make my way outta this city am I gonna go along with this.” the former cop claims. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“So, are we all good? Then I suggest our first priority is figuring out how our host here is controlling these rooms.” “Thurs is right; the quicker we know that, the better chance we got in fighting this guy.” the purple psychic agrees with. “And how you figure we do that?” Tuesco questions. “Usually kicking the guy’s shit in would do just fine. But it seems tracking the down’s gonna be the hard part. Don’t even know if he’s in her with us.” Weds summarizes. “I think them being here’s a pretty safe bet.” “What makes you say that?” “Checking out the counter over there will give you the answer.” Thurs claims, pointing over towards one of the kitchen’s counters; its marble surface glistening against the lights above. “What about it?” “You notice the way its surface shines, the way its reflects the soft glow of the lights in here?” “The hell you even getting at, man?” “Don’t you find it rather strange how clean it looks? It’s practically spotless; almost like it was wiped down recently.” “So, your saying if the counter had just been scrubbed down, then our perp…” Wedsle starts to get. “Has to still be home. No doubt watching out every move.” “How does that make any sense?” doubts Tuesco. “It makes total sense if you think about what all happened. The door inexplicably locking behind us, the room tilting around. How else could they do all that stuff if they didn’t know we were here?” Thursotte reviews. “So if they know we’re all in here, then its a safe bet to say they’re spying on us as we speak.”

In the midst of their evaluation does the room around them start to violently tremble beneath their feet; the three of them falling onto the cabinet as the whole room tilts off to the side. While Thurs and Weds manage to land on their feet without much problem, Tuesco on the other hand winds up fumbling onto his side as the room veers onto its wall. “You alright?” the young man asks him in concern. “How often do you people have to deal with this crazy crap!?” “Alot.” “Better get used to it.” Weds smirks.

Their troubles were far from over however, as their attention is drawn overhead when witness the cabinets on the other side be flung wide open; sets of plates, glasses, cups, and other dinnerware come raining down towards them. Just when the torrential downpour of glass and porcelain was moments away from pelting them, a wall of cerulean swiftly runs across their heads to vacuum in the air around them; this gathered air forming into a solid, transparent wall that shields them all from the raining barrage of kitchen ware. “Nice save.” Thurs complements the former officer. “Thanks. I think I’m starting to get the hang of this.”

Before the trio could get too comfortable, the oven beside them suddenly opens to let loose an eruption of flames; all of them backing away from the raging fires as they encroach upon the very counter they stand on. “Agh! How long has that been on?” Thurs screams. “Who cares? Let’s just get the hell out of here.” Wedsle states, Thursotte making a mad dash towards the door. Though when trying his luck for one of the doors out from the kitchen, the knob refuses to budge an inch for him, no matter how much he twists and turns; the psychic of Murphy’s law realizing that: “We’re locked in!” “How inconvenient! Guess whoever in charge of this place listened in and doesn’t want us getting too comfortable. Some shitty host they’re turning out to be.” the purple psychic jests. “Quit screwing around! We need to get out of here!” the former cop beside him yells. “Calm down, man. Pretty sure we can make out of this before-Wow that fire is growing fast.” A glance back towards the roaring flames proves the purple psychic’s observation to be true; the fire erupting out from the oven growing more fierce with every passing moment, spreading more and more of its blazing fury through the kitchen.

Cracking open another of this strange abodes many doors, Satette and Frida wince their eyes as the enter into the polished white confines of a bathroom; the two woman left taken aback by the washroom’s unexpected size. “Holy shit.” Frida awe. “Yeah, wow. I mean look at this.” They behold the widened bathroom within equipped with a full body mirror, a set of three sinks, a couple of toilet stalls, and a row of sliding glass showers. The sink and showers hold matching cleaning products aplenty, all more than one person would need to freshen themselves up for whatever occasion they prepare for. “This place is decked out. Soap and conditioner here’s more expensive then what I used to make. Fucking premium stuff here.” the dimensional psychic claims. “Seriously big enough in here to host a whole hygienic meeting. Feels more like a public bathroom than a private one.” Satette points out, beginning to wander off. “Hang on.” Frida stops her with. “Gotta have something to keep the door open, case we need to make a quick bail.” “Good idea. Ummm.” Taking a quick look beside said door, Sat finds a batching cleaning equipment held along the wall by some screwed in hooks; the lively psychic swiping a mop off the wall and jamming it in between the doorway. “Eh, that’ll work.”

The full body mirror being the first part of the bathroom she inspects, Frida takes a moment to admire her reflection; closely looking to the scars held along her face and arms from her past fights. Huh, don’t look half bad for someone whose been through hell and a half. Actually wear some of these pretty damn good. In the middle of looking at herself, her eyes catch something odd in between the set of mirrors: a handle, no doubt to reveal what lies behind the reflection. Though curious enough to try her luck in opening up what may be within, Frida is cautious enough to stand on one end of the mirror as she takes hold of the handle on the other side; slowly moving the mirror aside to let whatever trap set within spring out. But when seeing next to nothing emerge out from the other side of the mirror, the dimensional psychic slowly peers inside, only to discover there be no trap held within. Rather alined alone several shelves be dozens of different kinds of medication and first aid; ranging from simple headache pills and bandaids, all the way over to chromosome medication and a portable defibrillator. Whoa, got a whole pharmacy packed in here.

Venturing into one of the bathroom’s stalls, Satette brings her attention to the accompanying toilet held within; its prestige and well polished porcelain lending the lively psychic back her own reflection. Rather than a handle of sorts, the seat holds nothing but a simple button on the side; no doubt to flush after taking care of business. Lifting the lid is she further impressed with the plush ring around the seat; its silky smooth texture having her imagine it like sitting on top of the fluffiest cloud. Damn, half the bowls I wind up using don’t look nowhere near this nice. Wonder if its as comfy to sit in as it looks.

Tempted to test drive this pristine oval office herself, Satette turns back as she starts to lift up her dress; Frida catching her before she could sit her nearly nude ass down with: “Hang on!” “Easy, Frids. Just use one of the others.” “That ain’t it. Ju-just move aside.” Doing as the dimensional psychic orders, Satette retreats from the porcelain throne and steps aside from the stall, watching as Frida takes the defibrillator on from the medicine shelf and tossing over to the toilet; the weighty medical tool sinking into the seat ring’s soft plush. As soon as the defibrillator fully sinks into the ring seat, countless sharp spikes come springing out from the bowl and skewer the electrical device; a close call which makes the lively psychic jump back and exclaim: “They booby trapped the toilets!? That’s just evil!”

Just when reeling from that debacle, both woman jump when the door to the bathroom swiftly shuts tight, the door snapping the mop Satette used to pry it open in two. The lively psychic rushes over to the door and pulls on the knob for any chance of escape; the only way out proving locked tight as it refuses to budge even an inch. “Shit, we’re locked in!” “That ain’t the end of our worries. Look!” Frida then warns as she points over to the line of showers. Beyond the showers sliding glass doors do their respective heads come slithering out to aim themselves towards the two woman; their nozzles spraying out forceful blasts of water that careen across the bathroom as fast as a cannonball, one of which hits Sat in the face hard enough to knock her to the floor. “Sat!”

Frida acts fast and drags both her and the hit young woman to the cover the restroom stalls provide; the thick hard plastic manages to hold against the barrage of water shots the horde of shower heads fire against them. “God, almost gave me a black eye there.” Satette claims, rubbing the part of her face she had gotten hit from. “We’re gonna get stuck with way worse shit unless we do something.” the dimensional psychic mentions. “Our best chance getting out is breaking down that door. You gotta have something in that jacket of yours turn it into wood chips.” “Afraid not. I ain’t got that sort of ammo to burn.” “Wait, you said you had a rocket launcher, right? What about an explosive or something?” “While we’re this close!? You out of your damn mind!?” “Right…”

Just when attempting to figure out a way out from this jam, another wrench in the whole thing is flung right in; the faucets of the bathroom sinks breaking apart as pillars of water come towering out, beginning to flood the floor of the restroom. “Aw shit! The whole place is getting soaked.” Frida curses. “Big deal. A bathroom this big is gonna take a while to flood.” “That ain’t what’s gonna screw us first. Remember that defibrillator I threw at the toilet?” Just a few stall down from where they take cover, there sits the remains of the very medical device she used to trigger the dastardly trap; the electrical tool still letting out sparks while remaining stuck to the spikes sticking out from the bowl. “We don’t think of something soon, we’ll wind up for the shock of a lifetime.” claims Frida, the flooding water beginning to rise past the souls of their shoes.

The blazing inferno threatening the boys has now grown to engulf half the kitchen, forcing them closer and closer towards the only door keeping them locked in. And though the burning flames slowly encroach upon the other side of the door, their air solidifying psychic among them attempts to keep the fire at bay with a big gray shield made from the very smoke of the flames; all the while Wedsle and Thursotte work at and pound at the door locking them in. “How’s the door coming, boys?” Tuesco asks of them, keeping the dark gray barrier standing. “No good. The lock won’t budge.” Thurs informs. “And the doors harder than a stiff erection. Can’t break it down no matter how much I pound it.” Wedlse claims. “Well, then we gotta come up with another way out. I don’t know how long I can hold back this fire.”

Upon the newcomers warning, the two turn their attention away from the door and back towards the rest of the kitchen, gazing past their new members gray barricade and through the raging flames; the purple psychic’s eyes soon fixed to a grate left in the middle of the ceiling. “Think I found our ticket out of this little slice of hell’s kitchen.” he tells the rest, drawing attention towards this grate. “That vent? Boy, the smoke make you lose your mind!? Or you just forgot about the inferno growing right in front of us?” “I ain’t blown my brain load yet, buddy. I know a way we can quell these nasty flames before they toast our asses to a perfect sizzling taste, and that way is right here.” claims Wedsle, patting Thursotte on the head. “What?” “Picture it Thurs, even a flick of your magic would send this kitchen spiraling down and possibly smear these fire down into nothing but embers.” “You seriously want me to cause an accident here, in the middle of this blazing inferno?” summarizes Thurs. “What, you think it can get worse then being trapped in this blazing inferno?” “I...guess not.” “Great, put a hole in that wall fresh meat. Thurs here’s got batch of fresh baked mayhem to deliver.”

“Not happening.” he denies. “What, why?” Thurs then questions. “I’ve only made basic shapes so far, I don’t know the first thing about breaking off just a piece of what I make.” “Can’t you just compress what you got down or something.” “I’ve just learned to do stuff like this less than several hours ago, what do you think? All I can do is make or break, that’s all you get.” “Then don’t just stand there, start breaking. Bring this shit down like stonewall.” Weds demands. “Nu uh! Ain’t no way in hell I’m trusting any kind of cockamamie scheme coming out of your mouth!” Tuesco objects. “Cockamamie?” “Then trust it from mine.” Thurs then suggests. “My power’s can get us outta this mess one way or another. Ceiling falls on the fire, the faucet pipes burst. I can picture a dozen things happening that could help us out. So if you don’t have faith his plan, then put it me.” “...You better make that shot count, kid.”

Scooping up a couple of nearby small pieces of rubble, Wedsle hands the ammo he needs to turn this situation around over to his accident causing crewmate; Thursotte gazing out beyond the smokey barrier held together by the newcomer as he starts to take aim. “Wait for it...Now!” he demands, enveloping the pieces of ceiling in his psychic aura. Holding more assurance towards Thursotte’s word, the former officer shatters the wall of solid gray in but mere moments; the suffocating smoke held in the other side bellowing against them all as the chaos causing psychic throws out the rubble towards the rest of the kitchen. Each pieces of rubble the young man had lobbed across the fiery blaze smacks against a few of the kitchen appliances and pan racks strewn throughout, the racks jerking away to make the pans fly right off its hooks and all over the place; a few of them careening over towards the sink. After a couple of the pan’s hefty steel strikes against the faucet and its handles enough, they break off from the rest of the sink to unleash a torrent of water that pours down against the raging inferno before it; the blazing flames quelling under the waters cold downpour.

As the terrible blaze before them begin to be quelled, the suffocating smoke that threatens to choke the boys recedes in kind; not only leaving them with slightly more clear air to breath, but more clear vision as well. Beyond the weakened flames do they all behold a path towards the vent Wedsle had promised them off, with only a few sparse fires standing in their way. “Just as planned. And you had the balls to doubt me.” Weds brags to the former officer. “Shut up!” “But the water coming out of the faucet can’t reach over here. There’s still some pretty bad flames keeping us back.” Thurs claims, gazing to the fires that bock their way. “I got this one.” Tuesco then declares, his cerulean aura flaring up as he reaches for the smoke rising from these flames. Capturing this smoke underneath his power, the fresh meat of the crew solidifies the plumes of smoke into a long slab of gray; the solid piece of smoke making itself into a bridge that closes the fiery gap between them and the vent above the middle counter. “Nice one!” Thurs compliments. “I mean its simple, but it works.” Wedsle backhandedly adds.

Their path set, the three waste not another moment to cross over towards the counter in the middle of the blazing kitchen; though trouble again brews its ugly head as the faucet water keeping the flames at bay start to die down. The flames engulfing the kitchen begin to well back into a blazing rage as the broken faucet finally runs dry; the trio crossing onto the top of the counter as these fires pick back up. “Tuesco! The fires are surrounding us. Make a cylinder to stop them.” Thursotte tells him to do. Yet when attempting to fulfill this request, the former officer finds spreading his aura into the shape of a cylinder rather strenuous to accomplish; the cerulean power he wields failing to completely surround them. “I...can’t…It’s too much!” “Now look who has a cock in their mouth, you swine shit!” Weds insults, battering the vent grate above them.

Growing worry and dread start to broil within both Thurs and Tues as the fire surrounding them start to rise up once more; the inferno practically moments away from engulfing the counter where they stand. But while the two are left feeling helpless among the approaching flames, Wedsle feast upon their growing tension and fearing dread to lend him the strength needed to break through the grate baring them from their only escape. When upon striking the thin steel grate off of its screwed hinges, the violet psychic pulls the piece of bent grate off the ceiling and clasps his hands together before he tells the others that he’s: “Get in, bitches!” Lowering his clasped hands to them both, Wedsle lets them step onto the palms of his hands and lifts the two up towards the open vent shaft; just in time as the flames begin to grow against the counter they stand on. When the two make it up to the vent, Thurs turns around to lend the purple psychic a hand in escaping from the kitchen; Wedsle leaping up to take the hand that pulls him out from the inferno before it could consume him.

After being pulled up into the vent shaft, Wedsle takes a little bit of a moment to breath in a fresh helping non smokey air before snapping his fingers and thanking him with: “Nice work, Thurs.” “Hey, don’t mention it.” Among this do the two hear their former officer before them let out little grumbles and murmurs as he peers away from them; Thurs easing his presented huff by complimenting: “Hey, You did pretty good too, Tues.” “Even if you did fuck up at the finish line there.” the violet psychic brings up. “I’m new at all this! What do want from me!?” he barks back with.

“What you can do for me is suck my di-” Before Wedsle could take another jab to the disheveled guy, Thurs puts his hand over the purple psychic’s mouth to shut him and speak in his behalf with: “I’m sure what Wedsle is trying to get at is that there’s always room for you to improve. I’m sure with some practice and pointers, you can get the hang of your new powers in no time.” “Hrmm…” Tuesco grunts over as he starts to crawl through the vent tunnel. While following after the disgruntled former officer through the vents, Thurs peeks back to his purple leader with a finger to his mouth a clear sign telling him to keep his mouth shut; despite his rolling eyes does Wedsle simply comply with his crew mates silent request as they quickly move through the vent tunnel.

The water flooding the bathroom starts to reach up to both of their ankles as Satette and Frida are desperate for a plan to break out before the sparks of the broken defibrillator a couple stalls down spells their doom. Yet simply rushing over to said stall and grabbing the busted medical equipment is a no go, as the nozzle heads slithering out from the showers keep firing shots of water towards where they take cover. “Waters already soaking our shoes; 6 more minutes and it’ll get up to our knee’s. It goes any higher then that, it’ll be lights out for us.” Frida summarizes. “We gotta have something that can bust that door down...Wait.” Sat ponders.

Its out from pondering this that the lively psychic start to unzip the front end of her dress; Frida giving her a strange glare as she tells her: “Don’t think now’s the best time for to go skinny dip...What the hell!?” Out from underneath her dress, the lively psychic pulls out about a dozens little wriggling fuzzy creatures that squirm in her grasp; a small giggle escaping from Satette as she keeps them from dropping down in the flooded floor below: “Easy little guys. You don’t want to go for a swim in these waters.” “Are those fucking moles? The hell did you even get them?” “I scooped them all up from a nest I found under the house. Figured they’d come in handy sooner or later. I’m sure you’d have thought of the same thing.” “No! I- Who the hell would even...W-what do you even plan on doing with them all?” “I’m gonna make them into a way out.” Satette states, infusing the countless moles in her own natural green power.

Underneath the lively psychic’s aura do the moles loose their individual form and merge together into one glowing mass; the dazzling shape of the matter elongates into a rod holding a thick point along its other end. After a few more moments of molding more and more into fining the tip of this mass; the glowing green engulfing it starts to dissipate and reveal what Satette had reformed the moles into. Held in her hands now stood a staff of fuzzy flesh and; the calcium and bone of the gathered moles sticking out into a fine point. Twisting the neck of the rod does she command the fleshy tool’s bone tip to rapidly spin with the force of a power drill; the sound of shifting flesh echoing through the bathroom as it turns. “Tada! What do ya think? You digging this?” “Girl...that’s so god damn wrong.” “J-j-just give me some cover while I-” “Yeah, yeah.” Frida utters, pulling out a couple of her pieces as both run out from the safety of cover.

As her lively partner dashes for their only door out from this flooding nightmare, Frida leaps out from the cover of the stalls blasting out against the collection of gathered shower head; some of her shots managing to make a few of them misfire towards the roof as the bullets crack their plastic shells. The spraying heads on the other hand prove just as fierce when firing back at the gunwoman; the rising water engulfing Frida’s ankles making it difficult to dodge their blasting pieces of water. Some of these shot out pieces of water unfortunately end up hitting her hands with enough force to knock one of her pistols out from her grasp, leaving behind a red welt along the side of her palm as she reaches into her jacket for another firearms. “Don’t got all day here, Sat!” she tells the woman behind her. “Gimme a sec!” Satette tells her, fidgeting with the neck of her fleshy tool.

Taking a moment to inspect the grooves and engravings, the young woman slides the bone tip of her mole drill around the face of the door; attempting to determine the best place to strike her weapon into its mahogany surface. Satette then stops the point of her drill right along a groove that thins out the door enough for her drill to feasibly break through and cocks the head of her weapon back before claiming that she’s: “Got it! Let’s see pest control deal with this!” The entire door trembles when Sat thrusts her biological drill against its very face; the drill’s head rapidly spinning its bone tip through its hard mahogany, leaving behind only a couple cracks spreading through its wooden surface. “Come on...Come on…” the lively psychic goes as she keeps pressure against the door.

A flurry of bullets are unleashed against the multiple shower heads as they continue their watery barrage against the dimensional psychic, keeping a steady aim as she fires her rapid fire AK-47. Though the storm of lead break apart a couple of the shower heads; the water from their pipes continues to spray out towards the gun woman. One of these streams shoot straight into stomach with enough of a punch to nearly make her double over; another of the shower heads blasting a shot of water straight into the of the gun woman’s gun and bending the barrel. “Shit! Anytime now, girl.” urges Frida, holding her damaged weapon against the firing shower heads like a shield. “Just a couple more moments! This wood’s pretty hard stuff!” Satette tells her, the tip of her mole drill digging further into the door’s face.

As she fires her other pistol at the slithering shower heads, the dimensional psychic makes a slow advance against the rouge bathroom appliances as she shields herself from their powerful cannon like sprays; her anxious worry skyrocketing when glancing into the stall she had thrown the defibrillator in. Frida lets out a sharp gasp when discovering the flooding water only a couple more feet from the broken sparking piece of equipment. “Sat!” she cries out. “Almost.”

Just when it seemed like the two psychic were on the verge of meeting their electrifying finale, the drill to Satette mole pole makes a break through against the bathroom door’s mahogany wood as the small cracks rapidly stretch out across it face; the water that rose up to their knee’s draining away as the door finally break apart under the bones of the moles. The flooding water they stand in suddenly rushing out from the busted down door, both of the girls are knocked off their feet as they’re swept out from bathroom; water from within soaking walls of the hallway.

After both Frida and Sat rise up from the puddles left along the wooden hallway floor, the two roughly cough out what water had slipped into them; the gun woman looking to the extensive damage dealt against her rapid fire weapon inflicted by the forceful blasts of water. Bent barrel, caved in clip, stretched bump stock, the AK-47 was borderline useless now. “Dammit!” Frida curses, marching over towards the lively psychic.

Jut when she gets herself off the puddles littering the floor, Satette feels the collar of her dress being pulled over as Frida drags the young woman face to face with her; the lively psychic hearing her partner utter something before she light shoves her back. “What...just what the hell is wrong with you!?” she then starts to yell at her for. “Hey, what’s with the freak out? We made it, didn’t we?” “We wouldn’t have been almost turned into human eels if you didn’t almost get yourself skewered on that toilet trap.” “Gimme a break, nature was calling. Besides, you had the smart idea to throw that defibrillator onto it in the first place. There seriously wasn’t anything else you could’ve dunked in there?” “Don’t spin this on me, I-...You know what. Maybe I was wrong on sticking together. Look what almost happened to us cause of that.” “Frida.” Sat utters. “Lets just split.” the dimensional psychic simply leaves with, departing through the hallway beside them. “...Fine!” Sat barks, heading out through another hallway close by. Left too distracted from their huffed up split away from one another, neither of the two woman notices the part of the ceiling they just stood under wobble and wave like a body of water; the head of a man emerges out from above. The man’s eyes let out ruby red glow as his thick ginger hair droops down towards the floor as he peer towards the young woman, dagger eyes and all.

Within another part of this strange abode stands freshly cleaned beds and dressers making the inside of a bedroom, meant to be shared by several others occupants; this decedent peace is disturbed however when the grate above is knocked off from the ceiling. Inside the vent hole overlooking the bedroom, Tuesco lowers his head to take a peek inside and gaze through the comforting guest room; claiming to the others behind him that: “Looks all clear to me.” “Perfect.” he hears Wedsle go, suddenly being shoved right out from the vent to plummet down below. Though he is left caught off guard by his unexpected fall, the bed beneath him cushions what would normally a pretty nasty descent. “You son of a biii…Ahh…” the airy psychic growls before the thread count of the bed sheets calmed his nerves. “Wedsle, what wrong with you, he could’ve gotten really hurt?” chastises Thursotte as both he and Wedsle lower themselves down. “Hey, he’s alright, ain’t he? No harm, no foul.”

Beyond the beds cloudy soft plush mattress, the violet psychic ventures over to the accompanying dressers and opens up one of their drawers to discover within a collection of socks, all of which neatly folded and arranged by size. “Mmmph, creepy.” Wedsle winces. Thursotte on the other hand fancies a look over to one of the nightstand, its polished mahogany finish reflecting the lights held above; the young man gazing into his own reflection as he makes the statement that: “You know, from what all we seen so far about this place, it feels like a mid class inn more than a criminal hideout.” “Yeah. Pretty damn strange.” “Hey, I ain’t complaining. Bed right here’s been the best thing I’ve laid on in a long while.” Tues sighs.

Its when gazing out from the bedroom door that Wedsle catches something across the hall that peeks his interests; a desk and a filing cabinet could be seen beyond the doorway; a private office of some sort perhaps? Eyeing the office on the other side of the hall, Wedsle glance back to his two other crew mates and inform that: “Heya, Imma see what dirt’s stashed away over in that office, you two come over and watch my back, kay?” “Man, do we have to? I’m starting to get comfy.” “Fine then, keep your dirty ass on those sheets. Their soft thread count’ll be the last thing you feel when that bed starts to come alive and choke you out.” the violet psychic warns, a notion of which urge the former officer to get himself off the bed and join the others as they head out into the hall.

Entering into the office and shutting the door behind him, Wedsle takes a moment to peer around the small space to find any sort of traps held under its unassuming facade; the violet former mobster looking underneath the luxury office chair, the polished oakwood desk, and the shimmering plastic plants before moving on over to the filing cabinets. Grasping the handle to one of its drawers, Weds stands back as he swiftly jerks it open in anticipation for any sort of dastardly trap waiting within; yet is weary when nothing springs out from within the open drawer. A peek inside leaves him somewhat confused when gazing upon its contents; finding nothing but a collection of rag dolls held inside; each of them left in different conditions reflecting the care put into them; some left battered and beaten to the point of tearing, others clearly taken care for and look as fresh as the day they were made.

Wedsle swiftly dismiss the strangely stored set of dolls and pulls open the next drawer above, his eyebrows raising when seeing this one labeled as “Toys”; the mere implication of this drawing out a gleefully sinister grin. Ooh hoohoohoohoo. Lets see what kind of fucking freak our hostile host is. Cracking open the labeled drawer, the initial naughty grin that Wedsle held almost instantly deflates when peering what was held within; the violet psychic reaching in to pull out an action figure, one whose paint was slightly worn. Gazing back down from where he had pulled this little guy from, the violet psychic glares upon an assorted collection of various figurines, some of which have had their paint worn down from the passage of time. Disappointed with what he had uncovered, Weds drops the little action figure down in the drawer with the rest before swiftly shutting it. Why would even put them all in filing cabinet?

A look to the drawer above, Wedsle wastes not another moment pulling it open and taking a little peek inside; the purple mobster left only perplexed as he discover within a myriad of office supplies tucked away within. Pens, pencils, sticky notes, paper clips, staples, almost everything you would find in any regular office; but why in this cabinet of all places. Before he could further ponder of this bizarre storage, Weds sees the collection of supplies start to tremble inside the drawer; the collection churning and gathering together and congealing as if the supplies made up something else, something alive. Among this frightening development does some of the supplies come together to form what seemed like a face staring back at him, this visage letting out a bone chilling outcry as he starts to rise out from the rest of the mass. Nope.

Though just when this creature was moments away from rising out, Wedsle swiftly slams the drawer shut and puts his foot against the face to keep this thing from breaking loose; soon quickly looking near that he could use to keep it shut. A couple feet away from the cabinet, the violet psychic pulls over a chair left along the opposite end of the desk and props it up against drawer to keep whatever had churned within from breaking free. Ain’t dealing with that shit.

When finally looking to the top drawer does his disappointment fade as he slides the cabinet open, finally uncovering actual files held within its aluminum tomb; each folder stored in neat and alphabetical order. Finally, got some real shit on our hands here. Time to see what sort of blast from the past you’re hiding behind your ass. Among starting to search through the filing drawer, the whole cabinet continues to quake from the malformation of office supplies banging underneath; Wedsle simply ignoring the outcries and thrashing as he keeps looking through. Christ, chill out already.

As the intrusive purple guest was busy coming through the filed archives stashed away in this cabinet, Thursotte and Tuesco are left to stand just right outside the door; both of them peering through the hall for any sign of their mysterious host. Among their lookout does the former officer glance back towards the young man he stands alongside with to say: “Say, uh...You mind if I ask you something?” “Yeah, go ahead.” Thurs opens to him with. “I know you were kinda thrust into all this but...You mind telling me how a guy like you can put up with being barked at from a crook like him.” “You mean Wedsle? Um...I mean I know he can be kind of...is an ass, sometimes. But he’s actually a pretty nice guy once you get to know him.” “I doubt that. All I see from him is a big purple punk smart ass who’s too big for his britches.” “Those britches fit better than you think. Out of everyone in this rag tag group of ours, Weds been in this sort of cutthroat prone sort of business for a tragically long time. If any one of us would know how to navigate their way through this dangerous stormy sea of exploitation and bloodshed smoothly, it’d be him.” “I’m not seeing it. Frankly, punks like that are only good for the streets.” “And that right there is why I put so much faith in him. Who else but a man of the streets would be better in making their way in this crazy cut throat world of ours?”

All remains eerily quiet as Satette carefully treks through the baron hallway, with only the sound of her footstep against the wooden floor being all the accompany her as she keeps an eye on the decorations that she passes over; the young woman anxious for the moment one of these pieces of décor could leap from the walls and attack. Metal, chimes, engraved plagues, wooden carvings; who knows which of these decorations may hold a truly nasty trap underneath their unassuming faces. Much to her suspicion however, not a single piece so much as twitches as Sat walks right on by; the lively psychic keeping her eyes glued as she heads towards the corridor on the other side of the hallway.

When entering through the open corridor, Satette breaks her sights away from the hallway and into the room she had just enter; the young woman finding herself having come upon a sizable living room fitted with what you would typically find in any other abode. Plush sofa’s and recliners, coffee and end tables, coasters, decorations, lamps, even a television hung up on the wall; all of it coming together to bring out a seemingly comforting atmosphere to rest your weary ass in. But what really brings the whole room together was the chandelier hanging above it all; its glistening metal holding countless sharp points and edges reflecting the glow of the very lights they hold. Despite tempted to lay her ass down onto one of these welcoming seats for a brief moment, the young woman simply strolls right on past; knowing for a fact that their cushioned facades hide life threatening traps. Seriously, if they’re dickish enough to booby trap the damn toilet, who know’s what other nasty shit they’ve got set up here. Satette makes a stroll right along past the living room furniture and right towards the door on the other side, clutching the knob and twisting only to find it locked tight; the lively psychic letting out a little sigh before brandishing her mole made weapon. Whelp. Second verse, same as the first.

But just when preparing to jam the tip of her organic drill against its face, the door rapidly swings open and strikes against her; the unexpected blow causing Satette to tumble back and land right onto the living room couch. Though before she could revel in the near hypnotic comfort the sofa cushions bestow upon her, the piece of furniture starts to come clasping together as she lay right in the middle; Sat left struggling to rise up from her suffocating tomb as the couch swiftly encases her under its cushions. As the comforting couch was moments away from clasping down like the mouth of a predator against its pray, a bright natural green glow shines out from the little opening that was left; a glow that evaporates as the sofa finally collapses shut.

When hope had seemed lost and Satette doomed to her cushy prison, out from the back of the enclosed sofa do spikes of thick bone shrapnel suddenly tear out from its cloth; several more pieces of these dense bones emerging to tear away against the soft cloth making up the piece of furniture. More and more do these sharp bones rip apart the couch that had threatened to entrap the young woman until Sat herself leaps out from within; her hands covered in the fuzz and flesh of the moles as their bones protrude out from her fingers like dastardly razor claws. Mole mitts!

When the ground beneath her feet quakes, a glance down reveals herself standing atop the coffee tables; its polished wood violently trembling as Sat struggles to get off its surface. Suddenly does table she stand on start to rapidly rise up from the floor and make a rocketing ascent towards the glistening sharp chandelier above; its deadly golden spikes shimmering in the light as Satette rises towards them. With little time to leap off the table, Sat sticks the claws of her mole mitts towards the incoming golden ornamental lights and blocks their lethal edges by the skin of their bones. But even holding back the glistening spikes adorning the chandelier, the table beneath her refuses to stop rising as it send both her and the lights hitting the against the ceiling; Satette struggling to fend the light’s lethal edges back as the coffee table continues to push. Some of the chandeliers points prode against her as she start to slide her way out from on top of the rising coffee table; inching herself close towards the edge as she keeps the spikes from digging into her flesh. And when closing in on the end of the table, Sat swiftly rolls right off the side before it hammers against the chandelier above with a terrible clash; some pieces of the ornamental light fixture breaking off as Sat lands back onto the floor.

Coming back up on her feet after the rough fall, the young woman looks to her body to discover herself with scrapes and cuts be seen bleeding across her body left behind from her close call with the chandelier; the blood seeping out from her small cuts being more than enough incentive to make a break for the door before any of this rooms traps were to be set off. Though she attempt to race towards the door she came in as fast as she can, the door prove faster as it violently slam shut; the bronze engraving on the other side jutting out from the face to lunge towards her. Using the claws of her mitts, the lively psychic shields herself against the jabbing bronze as the force sends her careening across the living room.

As she rolls towards the other side of the living room, Satette digs her mole claws into the floor to stop herself from slamming into the wall behind her, leaving behind her marks against the polished wood. Her ears perk as they catch a disgruntled growl echoing through the living room, following the sharp growl to a wall beside her; Satette slowly backing away as its surface wobbles around like freshly disturbed water. “You!” she hears screaming from the walls. The young woman is taken aback when watching the end of a ginger haired man emerge out from the surface of the living room wall; this man glaring towards her with his ruby red eyes as he growls out: “Do you know how long its gonna take to get those marks off?” “What the!? Who the hell are-” “The sofa, that’s fine, the chandelier, easier to replace than you think. But the floorboard? I can’t just take out the part you clawed at, you know; I’ll have to redo the whole damn thing! You people have no idea what its like keeping a place like mine up, making sure everything’s all neat and tidy like it were your own set of teeth!” “Your place? So then that makes you the host to this little slice of heaven?” “Unfortunately for you, yes. And as the host of this abode, it’s by job to tend to the unwelcomed guests who happen to stumble their way into these very walls.” he elaborates, beginning to slink out from the living room wall, countless small knives settled in between his fingers “So I’d recommend you sit back and relax. For that respite shall be your last.”

The clank of the aluminum cabinet reverbs through the office when Wedsle slams its drawer shut, the purple psychic letting out a disgruntled sigh as he turns his attention towards the rest of the office space. Fucking nothing but a bunch of business receipts and useless outdated documents. Not a single god damn signature in any of these damn folders. Easy, Weds. It’s just one part of the office. Maybe we’ll have better luck snooping around the desk.

Strolling right over towards the main desk in question, the first part of it the violet mobster checks out is the small drawers in hopes of digging out any mementos or clues as to who their host may be; unfortunately finding nothing in them but a couple of supplies and other knickknacks. Its not until he peers up to the top of the desk that he winds up finding something that catches his attention, his eyes widening as he reaches across its polished oak wood to grasp at a framed photo sitting along the edge. It...It can’t be. Staring astonished to the photo the ordinary frame holds, Wedsle finds pictured a gang of 4 rugged and ragtag posing for a group photo together with him; most of them, though younger, he recognized the moment he sees them. Monty, Harley, and...Is that really what I used to look like? Beanie, dangling hood, tight pants and fucking red shoes, really. Shit, glad smartphones weren’t that mainstream back then, or I would have never lived a disaster like that down. That other guy though…Ruby red eyes and thick ginger hair; it can’t be. Is he really the host of this whole damn safehouse. Its among taking this in that he suddenly feels the whole office tremble underneath his feet; these tremors swiftly settling moments after they happen. That didn’t sound too far from here…Oh no!

The nostalgic framed photo in his hand, Wedsle rushes for the door and tackles his way out from the office; a rash action which catches both Thurs and Tuesco completely off guard. “Whoa!” “Jeez. Where’s the fire?” “Ain’t got no time for fires. I figured out who’s behind this whole haunted hotel hell. And we gotta stop them before they wind up screwing us. And not in the fun way.” the purple mobster claims, dashing through the halls.

Like the claws of a deadly predator swiping towards its target, the host of this nightmare abode swings his countless butterfly knives against his lively intruder as Satette blocking him with the bones of her mole mitts; every swipe the host makes against her bone claws leaves behind cuts along their bone marrow. But when she attempts to strike back against her host, the ginger haired man proves the swifter as he delves right into the floor like the water of a swimming pool to completely evading his guests slashing assault; the lively psychic letting out a frustrated growl as she peers throughout the room for any sign of where he’ll pop out next.

But among her little investigation through the living room, she fails to notice a chair sitting on the other end of the room start to vibrate; the bronze engravings along the side of its seat emerge as a set of lethal sharp teeth. This chair in the very next moment lunges towards the unwelcome guest while barring its fangs against the lively psychic, careening across the room like a falcon swooping towards its prey. When finally realizing the chairs approach, Sat acts fast to transform her mole mitts back into that of a staff made from flesh and bone; the young psychic lodging the weapon in between the chair’s sharp bronze jaws. Though the staff of mole bones keeps the chair’s choppers of bronze from biting down upon her, the jaws of the furniture show to be stronger than she though; the neck of her weapon beginning to crack underneath the chair’s pressure.

As Satette struggles to keep the jaws of the chair from clamping down upon Satette, her hostile host drops down from the ceiling above and plunges a couple of his butterfly knives down upon her; their sharp steel plunging into her arms and shoulders. Satette quickly glances back to discover her ginger host right behind her, preparing to stab the rest of his knives into her back. Moments before her foe could jam the cold steel of his knives into her flesh, Satette jerks the chair trapped in her grasp right around and sends it smacking right against its very owner; the wood of the chair shattering to chips as the bronze attached to it clangs against the ginger haired host.

As Satette witnesses her hostile host retreat back to the inside of the wall, her eyes dart to the neck of her mole made weapon; the young woman left startled when realizing there be a big crack stretching out on both ends. Dammit. Guess that shouldn’t be as surprising considering mole claws were made for digging rather than fighting. Its bone marrow doesn’t look like it can take any more punishment, but I’ll be defenseless without it; got be some way to- Splintering from these thoughts is Satette’s attention then drawn to a couple of the butterfly knives lodges in her shoulders; both these weapons and her own nearly broken staff lending her a sneaky little idea.

Slowly surfacing out from the ceiling, the psychic host peers down to discover his young intruder wondering through the living room in hopes of searching for a way out; seeing his knives still plunges into her shoulder. Seeing the young lady utterly distracted does the ginger psychic take this moment to turn the tables in his favor; or rather, turn the whole room sideways, causing Satette to tumble towards him. His moment to strike set, the host breaches out from the ceiling and leaps towards the tumbling young woman; preparing to stab more of his tiny knives across her body.

Yet upon the moment to strike, he fails to anticipate Satette striking back against him with one of his own butterfly knives, managing to plunge one of them into the man’s abdomen. The host is ultimately perplexed of how the young lady stabbed him with his own knife when they were still plunges into her shoulder, though when getting a closer look does he find the answer. The “knives” that were stuck in her shoulders, they were rather splinters of bone protruding out from a fuzzy flesh that covered the wounds the real weapons had inflicted.

Before the young woman could bury any more of his own knives into him, the ginger host swipes at her hands to knock the weapons out from her hands; soon kicking Satette away towards the other end of the living room where the coat rack stands. As soon as she slams against the pole, its cold steel bends around her body and ravels across her body like a greedy serpent catching its meal. Entombed in the warped coat racks steel grasp, Satette can do little but watch as the host swims up towards a corner of the living room; resting his hands upon the flat screen TV that hangs up from the ceiling. The host presses a couple of the Television’s buttons before its screen flashes alight, emitting a powerful red glow out from which a searing heat roasts whatever shines upon it.

“Using this causes so much damage to the room, but you forced me pull it out. A few moments underneath the TV’s red hot rays and you’ll be burnt to a crisp.” he claims, clutching hold of the back of the TV. Try as she might to break free from the steel coat rack wrapped around her, Sat sees the host starting to move the red hot flat screen to face her; realizing that there was no way of slipping out from her binds before the TV’s searing rays shine upon her. But just when the Television was but seconds away from directing its deadly rays against the trapped young woman; a single gun shot fires out from across the room and shatters its screen in but an instant. The host left spooked as the sparks fly out from the front of the TV, but that same surprise rises to new heights when glaring back down to the young woman trapped in his coat rack.

Out from the bosom of Satette’s dress emerged a single hands holding a pistol aimed squarely towards the ginger host; the man himself watching utterly astonished as he watches the woman this hand belongs to climb out from underneath the lively psychic’s dress. “Christ, Frida. You gotta wait til I’m down to the wire?” she tells the gun woman emerging out from her. “Wanted to see how long you lasted. If its any compliment, you went for longer than I thought.” Frida answers, coming out from her partners dress to standing against on her own. “You! You-you were with...B-but I thought you two-” the ginger host babble. “Split? You really think we’d be dumb enough to split up while in enemy territory? Can’t believe you fell for one of the most simple tricks in the book. You don’t get out that much, do you?” she boldly mocks, aiming both of her twin pistols towards their hostile host.

The discordant echoes of racing footsteps echo as the boys dart through the abode long hall; Wedsle taking the lead as the others struggle to keep up, with Tuesco questioning in between his breaths: “Slow down, boy!...What...What’s the hurry for?” “Yeah, what’d you see inside that office that got you in the mood for a marathon?” Thurs adds. “A little picture on the desk caught my eye and told me who’s the host holding us in here. Haven’t seen the guy in so long, still can’t believe that dick’s been hiding here all this time.” “Wait, Weds, you know this guy?” “Afraid so. Real nasty piece of work. He’s-”

Just when about to explain his relations to the master of this domestic dominion, a harsh crash baits their attention to from where they came; Thurs and Tues terrified when witnessing an amalgamation of countless office supplies flood across the hallway like a rushing river. Among the dozens of paper clips, staplers, tapes and pins, there lies at the forefront of the wave what appeared to be a visage made from them; its shimmering red button eyes fixated to the trio as he lets out a rattling outcry. “Oh right. That thing. Why’d I go thinking chair would be enough to keep it stuck?” the purple psychic mentions. “What the hell is that thing!?” Thurs screams. “Nevermind what sort of discarded office supply shit it happens to be, I need it off my ass so I can get to our guy in time. Think you guys can manage?” “What!? How do you expect us to hold back that monstrosity!?” Tues exclaim. “Figure it out.” Wedsle simply advises them, the distance between him and the others growing as the purple psychic picks up the pace.

While Wedsle makes his dash deeper down the hall, Thursotte and Tuesco stop right in their tracks to face down the incoming cluster of living office supplies; the rattling of its body growing louder as it rapidly nears. Being the only one between them that could potentially halt the amalgamation’s rampaging approach, Tuesco thrusts the palms of his hands out towards the monstrous collection of supplies and commands his aura to take the shape of a wall, one that encompasses every corner of the hallway, solidifying the air before them into a thick barrier. The collection of living office supplies nonetheless slams its body against the psychic made solid wall with enough force to shake the entire hallway; Tuesco letting out a pained grunt as cracks begin to form in his barricade. “You okay there?” Thurs worries. “Yeah, I’m alright. But I’m not sure how long I can hold this.” he admits, the cluster of supplies continuing to bang against his barrier, the cracks slowly growing with every tackle made against him.

Bullets ricochet across the living room as Frida fires her pistols towards their retreating host, none of them so much as hitting him as the ginger haired gent delves back down into the depths of the wall; the gun woman keeping her aim steady as she lets it wonder through the room. Though left helpless underneath the iron grasp of the coat hanger wrapped around her body, Satette winds up noticing a couple of pictures hung on the wall trembling; their sharp bronze edges shuttering against one another before they’re suddenly launched towards her partner in crime. “Frida, behind you!” Sat warns her.

Jolting her head back does Frida see the pair of picture frames careening towards her, with their bronze edges spinning through the air like throwing stars. When she manages to block the incoming bronze frames with the steel heads of her pistols, one of them getting knocked out from her hands and sent hurdling across the room. The very moment she looks back to where her weapon had been flung, the dimensional psychic finds her pistol being swiped by a hand breaching out from the carpet; this hand sinking with the gun before Frida could so much as aim. “Shit!”

Left partially disarmed, Frida keeps her eyes peeled for whatever sort of dastardly tricks the host has in store for her; the gun woman taking more cautious approach knowing her foe now wields one of her own weapons. But its among her caution that she’s caught off guard when feeling the entire room start to tilt; Frida trying to reach over towards the wall as the living room turns towards the side, yet is just a moment too late as she tumbles down across the floor. While careening to the other side of the living room, she catches a glimpse of the host surfacing out from the wall and taking aim with her own pistol; the ginger gent firing several shot towards her. But the guy ultimately proves to not be as much of a crackshot as her however, as every bullet he fires winds up missing its mark; a problem that Frida has little trouble with as she takes only one to shoot her gun out from his mitts. The host retreat back into the safety of the wall as Frida’s second pistol comes dropping down towards her, its grip nestling in her palm as she swipes it out from the air and back into her possession.

God dammit, this is getting nowhere. Long as this asshole’s skulking around in the walls, getting any shot on him will be downright impossible; like a hunter trying to snipe at a runaway deer in a dense forest. I can’t merge into anything in here either, the whole damn place is literally against me. I need to sway it back in my favor before it winds up becoming my tomb. Putting her freshly retrieved pistol back into the confines of her jackets inside, the gun woman rummaging around a little in there before feeling something that could ultimately help her out; something that brings a little smirk to her face.

But when trying to pull out this little trump card, she feels the wall beneath her wobble around and looks beneath her feet to find the host himself breaching the surface with butterfly knives in hand. Frida evades the ginger gents slashing assault with a swift spinning sidestep and aims the head of her pistol right at the guy to try and counterattack, the host delving down just as she fires to thrust the tip of her knives straight towards the woman’s stomach. Though when going for the kill, the hostile host is taken by surprise when out from underneath her jacket does the gun woman pull out a shotgun; its barrel aimed squarely right at him. Try as the host might to make his retreat back into the floor, Frida proves a tad faster as she pulls the trigger and unleashes a storm of pellets against the guy; some of these shots managing to hit the guy as he slink back into the depths of the wall.

“Nice shot, Frids! That outta make him hiss.” cheers Satette. “Yeah, but not for long. Only got a few pellets in him...How you holding up?” “Not well. Can’t even move an inch with this damn coat rack squeezing me.” “How many of those little guys you got left?” “About 4 or 5 I’d say. Barely enough tissue for me to make even bone knuckles.” “Still, it outta be enough. You remember plan B, right?” “Oh yeah, that! I think I can do that if-. Wait, behind you!” the lively psychic suddenly warns.

Amidst the young woman’s sudden warning does the ginger host suddenly surface out from the ceiling behind Frida to plunge his small knives behind her; the gun woman letting out a pained hiss as their steel digs into the back of her shoulders. Before the ginger gent could stab any more of his knives into her, he suddenly feels the butt of his intruder’s shotgun slam into the bottom of his jaw; Frida flinging the guy right towards her bound partner. But when landing right next to the bound young woman, the host quickly makes his retreat back into the depths of the wall, not even sparing a moment with her.

Its then that the entire room once again starts to tilt over and in turn sending the girls tumbling towards the other side; Satette helplessly only to watch as Frida left to plummet towards a cabinet who’s doors swing wide open. Clutching the outside rim of the cabinet, Frida manages to stop herself from being entombed and stares down to discover the inside to resemble an endless void. Before she could look in terror upon the abyss that stares back to her, the host himself suddenly surfaces out from the wall beside the cabinet; lunging at her with butterfly knives in between his fingers. Yet just when moments away from slashing the steel of his knives into the intruder, the ginger host feels the sting of hot steel pierce into his leg; Frida having shot him from between her arm and leg. The unexpected shot trips the ginger gent up for just long enough for Frida to leap up and flip right over him; sending their host right into the clutches of his own piece of furniture with a swift kick before swinging the cabinet door shut.

Within the dark confines of his own cabinet, the ginger gent’s eyes start to adjust to the pitch black insides as he lets out a little scoff; clearly unhindered by his intruders deceptive tricks. Though its not when he notices something else dwelling inside with him that he begins to worry, his concern inflating rapidly when finding a grenade nestled beside him, with its pin already having been pulled. In attempting to escape from the inside of the cabinet before it explodes, the host backs away from the explosive and towards the wall; yet panics when finding himself moving not even an inch through. The ginger host then peers behind himself to then discover the cause of his unexpected entrapment; the back of his suit coated in a thin layer of meat and bone that wriggles and writhes. With little time left to make his escape, the ginger host could do little but hold his arms against his face as the grenade is finally set off and unleashes a fiery explosion within the tight inside of the cabinet.

The force of the explosion proved so incredibly violent and overwhelming, the blast makes the entire home, from halls, rooms, and respites, to tremble from its fury. Close to the living room does Wedsle nearly fumble onto his knee’s from the quaking while racing through the hallway, the purple psychic kneeling against the wall to stop himself from falling on his ass. Holy shit! As the trembling starts to cease, the violet mobsters attention drifts towards where the explosion had been heard; swiftly pushing himself off the floor to make a daring sprint towards the source of the rumbling Dammit! Please don’t wind up killing each other!

As the resulting smoke from the explosion starts to clear, Satette coughs up what plumes she had accidentally took in before she peers over from where she lies and is left astonished to find the cabinet that her partner had trapped their host in still left in one piece. Obviously in pretty rough shape, but still mostly intact. “Jesus! How’s a little wooden cabinet have as much reinforcement as a safe?” she wonders aloud. “To fair, that wasn’t my strongest bomb. Don’t really like using any of the bigger stuff in enclosed spaces like this. Wouldn’t want a big wood chip wind up piercing into your brains.” answers Frida. “Still, amazed how its not been reduced to sawdust.” “I only have the best for my home.” a familiar voice claims.

“Where you think he got that...Wait, what the fuck!?” the lively psychic yelps. Upon the sound of this do both women jerk their head back to the other side of the room to discover the host of the house himself emerging out from the floor above them; his charred skin and torn outfit making it clear that he had just dodged the dance with death. “Finely sawed and smooth Quebrancho, directly imported straight Argentina. You’d be surprise how much punishment that sort of wood can take.” “An explosion at point blank and your still standing!? How!?” Frida exclaims. “You’re little firecrackers are nowhere near the sort of stuff thrown at me back in my day. Gonna take more than some cheap fireworks to bring me down.” he states, brandishing sets of butterfly knives between his fingers. “Suit yourself, old man. I’m down for another round.” the gun woman declares, aiming the barrel of her shotgun straight towards the host; her finger moments away from pulling on the trigger.

Though when the two were moments from clashing once more, one of the doors to the living comes swinging as the purple psychic rushes right inside and demanding everyone to: “Hold the fuck up, don’t-” Wedsle cuts his own words of warning off when realizing the entire room was tilted on its side, leaving him to fall from the floor and down towards the wall the others stand upon. “Shiiii-!” After the violet mobster makes a rough landing onto his shoulder at 10 feet from the door, the purple psychic lets out a sharp hiss as he slowly pulls himself off the floor; rubbing the part of his shoulder he landed on while going: “God, sure as hell hope that didn’t dislocate anything.”

“Wedsle? What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were with the others.” questions Frida. “Wait, Wedsle? Is that really you?” they then hear the ginger gent ask, a question that takes both of them by surprise. “Sure is, Julian. I was wondering where you’ve been all this time. Never would have guessed you’ve been under our nose all along.” “Hold the hell up! Weds, you know this guy?” Sat then chimes in with. “Sure do, Sat. the utight ginger gent skilled in the way of the knife, but better in the way of the host. This right here ladies is the one and only, Julian Parkland. This tight belt wad you see coming out the walls here was part of the OG crew Monty and I hung out with back when I first started out.” he explains.

“Oh dear widdle Wedsle, please don’t tell me these ruffians are with you?” the ginger gent wonders. Hearing this little nickname from the wall swimming host, both girls can’t help but snort and snicker as they attempt to contain their laughter; Frida among them uttering with a faint shaky smile: “Widdle Wedsle?” A short sigh escapes out from the violet psychic mouth as he shakes his head, going: “Afraid so, Jules. This motley crew here’s all mine. So you mind calming your tits down and flip everyone right side up again.” Upon the purple mobsters request does the ginger host retreat back into the depths of the floor before the entire living room trembles once more; the three of the guests keep themselves steady as the entire room starts to tilt back to its original position.

The cracks in Tuesco’s solid air wall stretch further and further towards the edges with every blow taken against the living compilation of office supplies; the former officer growing weaker as he struggles to keep their shield held high. What strength he could spare finally dissolves as the barrier solid air finally shatters to pieces; the force of the air blasting out from within knocking both he and Thursotte onto the floor. Gazing up from his weariness, dread starts to fill the former officer as he watches the amalgamation of staples, pens, paper clips, and rubber bands slink closer before holding it sharp claws out as it makes its lunge against them. Against the monsters deadly approach is Tuesco shocked to witness the young man with him stand between him and the oncoming beast; Thursotte’s orange aura flaring as he prepares to defend them against its charge. Yet just before the collection of office supplies could so much as touch either of them, its bodily structure suddenly falls apart as the staplers, pencils, and paper clips that make it up fall and scatter all across the hallway floor; each of the pieces reduced to nothing more than simple supplies. From this fresh development do both of the boy glare to one another at a loss, with Thursotte’s aura receding back into his body as all comes to a calm.

The living room flipped back onto its right side, what furniture remained was left broken and shattered from the fight had been scattered all across the room; the lively psychic shaking her way out from a pile of this mess while struggling within the grasp of the metal coat rack. But soon enough does this steel pole finally unravel from around her body and frees her from its cold grasp; Satette stretching her arms and legs out as she stands up to see the others rising from their stupor. A pained groan seeps out from Wedsle as he stand back on the floor, rubbing his head as he wonders: “Jeez, Julian. Think you could warn a guy before you start playing a round of house flipp...er…” From turning around does he stop his quip short when find the host of the home staring in right in the face, Wedsle about to speak before the ginger gent starts to go off with: “You have the audacity to request something from me after breaking into my home, destroying my living room, and making a mess in my kitchen? Half the stuff your crew broken isn’t cheap. Do you know how long it’ll take for me to redo the floor, the walls, get the furniture set back up? What do you have to say to all that, huh!?” “I-I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know it was your place. All I knew about it is that Monty used to-” “Monty? Oh my god. Haven’t seen him in years and he just send you all out here without so much as a heads up? Where is he even?” The mere question of Monty’s whereabouts brings the room down, Satette looking to Frida as she watches her look away, crossing her arms in discomfort. “That’s...gonna take a minute to explain.” Wedsle then claims.

“You okay?” Thurs asks Tuesco, lending a hand to the downed former officer. “Yeah...Th-thanks for having my back?” “Its all part of being on the team.” “Don’t get too comfy having me around. Soon as I get this psychic business sorted out, I’m splitting from this city. Better off not getting caught hanging around a bunch of crooks...No offense, you and Satette seem alright.” “Oh, well...Guess I can’t really blame you on that. Most people would probably do the same in your case.”

“Why do you stick around?” “Huh?” “What’s keeping you from doing the same and bail from all this?” “I mean...beside being put on a watch list and the borders not letting go back home...I guess I want to just make sure that people who helped me out of all this turn out okay; they’re really not as bad as you think. They got some problems absolutely, and I wouldn’t exactly call them “Model people”, but that’s really all I see them as underneath all that. Psychic powers or not; they’re just people trying to get by in life; trying to cope with how hard the world treats them. Maybe that’s why they’re all so hellbent on fighting against the mob and taking it over; even if it is just this city. Its the least they could do to make it easier for everyone else, even if they need to do less then ideal things for it.” The young man’s elaboration over the other’s motivations and goals, hearing why he personally stick with them through and through, leave Tuesco boldly silent over it all; this gaze wandering towards the ceiling of the hall while he hears Thurs adds: “I hope you stick around, at least for a little while more.” “Well see…”

A disheartening quiet haunts what remains of the living room after Wedsle finishes explaining all that had lead him to the where they sit now; Frida and Sat sitting on the remains of the couch while Wedsle and Julian sit on the chairs across from them. “So...he’s really gone? All those decades of service under the mob and they just back stab and leave him to die. He he he he he...I shouldn’t be as surprised. I knew he’d wind up dead sooner or later if he stuck around. I wanted him to escape with me out from this hellhole, start something new for ourselves. But he refused, said he couldn’t bare to leave behind what mattered to him. At the time I thought he was just going on about Harley, thought that his penis was doing more of the thinking back then. But knowing what he did, it made me realize that he wasn’t just talking about her, he definitely had you in mind too.” “I’m sorry you had to here all this from me. I-” “Don’t say another word. If Monty held that much faith in you, then that’s all I really need to hear. If you think fighting against the mob will make a difference, then who am I to say otherwise.” “So then that means…” Frida wavers. “If it so needs to be, consider this safe house your haven. So long as you dwell in my walls, not another soul will reach you.”

“Oh god, thank you. You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting a bath, getting a bite to eat, wash my clothes-” “However...” all of them then hears the host stop them with. “Huh?” “The collateral damage you all so recklessly inflicted upon my property is another matter. So long as you live under my roof, each of you shall work to restore this home to what it was before you barged him. Every piece of furniture put back together, every appliance fixed, and every scratch you put in my floor buffed out from top to bottom. Do I make myself clear!?” Julian demands, glaring to Satette with daggers in his eyes. “Yes sir!” she yelp. “Good. I’ll allow you all to rest now, but at the crack of dawn, Wedsle; you and your lot will get to work. Can I expect that from you?” he asks the purple psychic. “Sure. Thanks Julian.” Upon this last note, the ginger host takes his leave by sinking into the living room carpet; Satette tumbling out from her seat before falling onto the floor, still feeling chills running down her spine from the glare he gave him. Dude has scary eyes... Its among this that she notices the little bite of flesh wriggling around across the floor, no doubt from the mess of moles she had brought in before all this. Only one thing to do with them now.

Outside the confines of the dimensional pocket home, the door held among the remains of the torn up home gently opens as the light from the other side floods out; the lively psychic following out after this light as she moves towards where the stove was. Reaching her hands down towards the soft soil that was underneath the broken stove, strings of green light slither across from her arm and down to her very fingertips; these glowing essences compiling together to form back into the collection of moles she had snatched away. A comforting smile forms between her cheeks as she watches the pack of moles bury themselves into the dirt of their homes, softly waving goodbye as she heads back towards the door. “Bye little guys, thanks for the help.” Shutting the door into the safe house behind her, the light it leaves behind fades away so to let the dusk of night return. But a glimmer of this light reflects against the glass of a nearby window to reveal within its reflection a man dress in fine leather print having watched; the man vanishing out from the glass as soon as the light passes over this window and finally fades.

#lillaxtrigger #original writing

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