Typewriter noises inside Iggy's room. The sound kept going nonstop.

"So, where did Big Pal Ed go?" Pickle asks The Director.

"The Golden Ridge HQ head? I gave him a paid leave today. Besides, I can't bear for anyone else to know The Industry's little secret."

Pickle leans at the window.

"...Wow, Iggy sure has a lot of things to write. You think he'll be okay, Director?" Pickle asks.

"Perhaps. I mean look at his sticky notes."

Color-coded stickies are facing Iggy against the wall as he continuously types.

"He finished writing a three-act structure outline in fifteen minutes."

"And with beats as well..." Pickle adds to the conversation.

"I've never seen someone think that fast before..." Pickle says.

Iggy keeps on typing.

"But... I don't get it, director. What is this prompt for, exactly?" He asks The Director.

"naGran wants to test him out if he's worthy of equipping 1KX's weapons." She answers.

"Huh... I did hear that right..."

"...But if he can't get higher than an 8, then 1KX is going to be in the wrong hands."

"...You're entrusting him with that power?" Pickle asks again.

"No. He's merely the user. I am the one entrusting you with it."

"It's cause I heard that you like to fight back." She added as a remark.

Stars in Pickle's eyes.

"I... don't see that a valid reason to change your plans." Pickle replies, emotionless.

"I can see no problem with that because this weapon... is made just for you in the first place."

"...What did you just say?"

The Director giggles.

"It was just a matter of time before you realized what you really want to do."

A FEW MOMENTS LATER...

Both Pickle and The Director walk back to the Oval Office. The old man naGran is walking around in circles.

"naGran, Follower wants a word."

naGran grunts questionably.

"If it's about 1KX then you should ask the director herself."

"No thanks, I kinda asked her way too many questions in the past 5 minutes."

> "So, where did my pal Ed go?"

>

> "You think he'll be okay, Director?"

>

> "What is this prompt for, exactly?"

>

> "...You're entrusting him with that power?"

>

> Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

>

> "...What did you just say?"

The Director cannot help but giggle quite a bit at Pickle's remarks.

"...Okay, fine. Questioning women too much makes people think you have questionable objectives." naGran replies.

"That's not what I meant but sure, I guess." Pickle responds.

Pickle floats his way to the couch.

The Director leaves Pickle and naGran alone for a while.

"So, she has told you, huh? You're going to be bearing the responsibility to fight him using that power."

"Yeah... I guess she read right through me."

"Of course! Whatever you say is always written down! HAHAHAHA!" naGran smilingly replies.

"Wow, you kinda have a different attitude around me..."

"Well, it's because I created you!" naGran says with a smile.

"Oh... No shot a person like you thought it was genius for me to randomly shapeshit."

naGran moves his head back, hearing those unexpected words.

"...That's your reaction? I was kinda expecting 'Dad', 'Father', or 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOO' as a reaction... and you're like 'i dOnT LiKe sHaPeShItTiNg.' Really now?"

"But it's annoying me so much~"

F L A M E S O N N A G R A N ' S E Y E S.

"Yes, I love shapeshifting wherever I go." Pickle interrupts himself without hesitation.

naGran relaxes his back on the couch.

"That's more like it."

"Enough of that. Father, the weapon! I wanna know more about the weapon!" Pickle insists.

"You're not going to ask your creator about his life? Well since you didn't ask, Let me share with you the day I was born. Once upon a time, in Great Hampsterdampster, my mother gave birth to to a horse named Jonathan McMuffin..."

"Oh god."

The director overhears the conversation from behind the door.

"Old man naGran..." She shakes her head as she blurts out a sultry laugh. She makes her way into the corridors and into the darkness...

She walks past Iggy's room. The typewriter is just as noisy as it's ever been.

The Director makes her way into the studio's basement. Carefully trekking down the corridor, she opens the light switch and comes in. A warm, fuzzy light comes out of the basement.

As she walks down, a neon blue blob of cosmic energy appears, encased in a glass bottle, protected and sealed by a transparent glass box.

"It's been a long time coming, Follower."

> "I WANNA FIGHT!"

"You finally wanted to do it."

THREE YEARS AGO...

"Director. This thing is going to have a mind of its own. His directive is going to expose him to many violent things, won't that make him vulnerable?" naGran asks her.

"Then make him strong."

"..."

"Make it so that he can handle everything he sees with the greatest of his strength."

"We need his resilience. We need to learn Massacre's tactics." She added.

"For what reason, Director?"

"I'm... going to create a weapon that surpasses even Massacre's power."

naGran's eyes dilate in fear of what he just heard.

"You're only going to create a weapon of mass destruction..."

"naGran, Oda's stories once taught me that when a weapon is in the hands of the wrong people, the world is going to shatter. Figuratively, that Massacre himself is a weapon and we're only creating one for the sake of countering it."

"...Director, That's too much power, and that's if we could even make a weapon stronger than him even possible."

"Look, If you don't trust me with this, the world's doomed."

"Slippery slope fallacy, Director." naGran replies.

The Director turns around, her hands behind her back.

"...Afraid not."

"If you think I'm the wrong person to handle that much power, then go make Follower do the heavy lifting for me."

"The weapon involves channeling the weapons, powers, and fantastical builds of thousands upon thousands of stories. A weapon that's stronger that more that the user loves its passion. I'm sure it will suit Follower's design perfectly." She added.

"A character that can handle all sorts of fantastical elements..." naGran thought to himself. "But how? How in the world can you trust my creation with those powers~"

"I trust him the way you trust your characters, naGran."

"Director..."

"Now you know why it's easy for me to make that decision. You're the greatest character designer in the world. Give it a few years and Follower might even become the world's unsung hero.."

Hints of optimism speckle The Director's face. "Knowing you, I'm sure he'll turn out just fine."

naGran pauses for a while.

"...Then I'll do everything it takes to keep him in line."

"Good."

PRESENT DAY...

"For him to have someone to fight alongside with..." She says. Clearing her mind, she remembers Iggy's optimistic face.

"What an interesting change."

She looks at the basement's exit.

"Now, it's just a matter of time before knowing if he's worthy enough to endure it all..."

She looks back at the cosmic energy.

"Prove to me that you love exactly what you want to do, Iggy."

"Give him that 8."

Meanwhile, in the room, Iggy's hands freeze. The typewriter noises stop. Iggy's eyes look around.

"Wait, that's not right."

Backspace... "This is the 8th time already..."

The paper behind the platen is a mess.

"...I can't think of anything."

Blankness engulfs Iggy's mind.

"Uh, oh... Could this be?"

Iggy gulps.

"Writer's Block?"