SAVE POINT 110
Loading Ants in the Pants and...an Unexpected Character...98%
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Joy
A banging knock on the door startles me more than I want to admit. I grit my teeth, clenching both fists at my sides. I've been on edge, and this cockroach, Hi-C pandemonium certainly isn't helping. Is it selfish to wonder what my life would look like if we Game Wardens had never found Rosabella? I throw a glance at her, speaking in hushed terms to Mimi in the corner. Who am I kidding? I've always been the selfish kind. Too bad the annoying realization that I might have turned Darken without Rosabella lingers...
The banging continues as I step forward, louder this time.
"I'm coming!" I screech, "hold your fucking horses—"
I wrench the door open but stop short. Because Sparo's tall, dark form pants there—like he's been running. Sweat glistens on his brow over intense, brown eyes. And, honestly, the only thing worse than dealing with Rosabella all the time is watching the dragon-non-dragon drool over her; they've been inseparable of late, and too much love is absolutely choking to my system. I let my arm drop, hitting the black body armor of my uniform.
"We're already too cramped in here—probably against a fire code somewhere—" I start.
"If I had my way, I'd start the fire," the man sniffs as his eyes dart down the hall, "Turn dragon, get everyone out of here and send those bugs up in a blaze that everyone on this side of the Game would see—"
"How'd you find us?" I comp on my gum, crossing my arms and doing my best to give off complete bored-to-tears-hearing-you-talk-about-yourself vibes. The dragon man doesn't notice.
He raises a long arm, waving a hand radio at me. "Mimi relayed Rosabella's location to Maude—"
"Yet another thing to thank that girl for," I drone sarcastically, grabbing the walkie from him.
And the guy doesn't wait for an invite; he shoulders right past me. I swear, if we get one more person in this room, I'm going to scream. The table at the center leaves very little mobility for any of us. But, per his usual tone, Sparo doesn't care. He sits on the table, swings his long legs over the wood surface and stands on it, moving towards Rosabella.
"Hey!" he barks at Mimi, waving his hands in the air, "Hey, what is going on? Someone's attacking my girl?"
"Well, we gave them all creator magic, what exactly did we expect, rainbows and butterflies?" Dormouse snivels from his curled up position in a nearby chair. God, that kid is so whiny. I don't even know why he was picked for Warden to begin with.
Rosabella and Sparo embrace and, watching it, feels like someone stabbing me repeatedly in the gut...turning the knife. In my stomach. I swallow, swiveling away. 'Selfish and alone', I tell myself silently, 'Those two things just always happen to be a staple of my reality. Always the protector, never the protected. They wonder why I'm a snarling badger? Gotta have teeth to face this fucking life.'
"I don't get it," I spit sourly, mainly to break up the happy couple now that Sparo's brushing Rosabella's hair back from her scalp with a gentle hand, "What is a bunch of insects and turning water red going to do, anyway?"
I have to admit, I don't understand. Blood, gore, death, threats: these are things I get—like a language I'm fluent in. But tricks? Magic shows? What is someone getting out of this? It came with a verbal threat, sure. But it seems very...indirect and... amateurish...
"Is it supposed to be some type of torture?" I sputter, trying to align the prices of this puzzle in my head which, frankly, just aren't making much sense.
"Torture, right?!" Dormouse huffs squeakily, crossing his arms and finally sitting up like he's decided he's going to be a fixture in this conversation after all, "The roaches? —Fucking terrifying. ...But the Hi-C water thing?? ...I mean, is it supposed to be abhorrent to drink high-fructose corn syrup for the rest of your life?"
'Abhorrent'? Seriously? I glare at the dork, "Can you not use words that make you sound like a complete prick—?"
"Hey!" Mimi yells, uncharacteristically loudly. Guess the freckled girl does have some pipes on her when she wants to. My respect for her ticks up a fourth of a millimeter as my head snaps up. The girl's hands are raised and her face, crinkled up in frustration. "Everyone just—chill, would you? Am I the only one who sees it? It's biblical. It's a biblical message of the wrath of God. Oh, tell me someone else here went to Sunday school."
A quick look around the room tells me I'm not the only one with no idea what Mimi's talking about: crickets, plain and simple.
Everyone's just...sort of gaping stupidly at her.
"Biblical? Like...the Bible?" I place a disbelieving hand on my hip. I feel my eyes narrow as I stare at the brunette girl. It's not that I don't want to believe her, it's just—sometimes, bugs are bugs, you know?
"I was homeschooled, okay?" Mimi starts, her delicate, little, white hands fluttering in the air as she speaks, "My family was like super religious. In the Bible, there's ten plagues that God makes fall on Egypt because of the Pharaoh's imprisonment of God's people. One of them was locusts—bugs," she clarifies towards a cringing Dormouse, "And one of them was making the sea red."
"Like the Hi-C," Rosabella finishes. I watch the Game Maker react; she's chewing on her lower lip and, by the looks of the swirling thoughts behind her eyes, she's eating this shit up. "I don't know, it kind of goes with the message," she nods.
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Oh my God. I'm imprisoned here with a bunch of idiots.
This isn't biblical. Only crazy people think like that. We don't need to be in the head of the person threatening Rosabella, we need to find them—track them down and take them out. I don't have time for this.
"Dormouse, can you trace the message's origin code for a location?" I demand in the nerd's direction, not caring about the stare I immediately feel from Mimi.
"You think I'm wrong?" the freckled girl asks.
I shake my head, observing the carpet, "I think I'm...more efficient. Dormouse? Location?"
The kid's pale fingers snap over the air.
"Looks like they're on the East side in a shore town," Dormouse drones.
Bingo.
My hands pat down my belt where my numerous swords and knives are stored like old friends just waiting to be revisited. Four daggers strapped to the inside of my leg and one in my boot... I'm good to go. My fingers wrap around the walkie I'd taken from Sparo, clipping it to my belt.
"I'm taking food from the kitchen and will radio when it's finished," I inform the room curtly.
Like the fucking superhero I have to be because no one else will step up—
"Joy, you don't even know if that trace location is right," Mimi protests, her face going red and the edges of her chin-length hair flying into her lips, "Don't you think if you were going to make a threat, you'd think about if we could trace the location of that threat? It could be a trap."
I let out a huff, meeting her eyes, "I wasn't born yesterday. A trap? I can deal with that. What I can't deal with is sitting here listening to you guys pontificate theories about bugs and red water. I'm done sitting. Hole up here and talk about whatever you want, but I swore to protect the Game Maker and The Game. I won't sit here while someone's fucking with that."
I go for a loud exit.
A dramatic one.
I leave the door slamming in their face as I charge down the hall.
"Here we are again, Joy", I mutter to myself under my breath. "Another day, another solo mission. Too stubborn to work with a team and admit that you would very much like one."
...Don't worry, I'll secretly hold this against every single one of them for practically as long as I live. I reach the kitchen and shove my way inside. I expect everything to be teeming with the varmints, but the place looks as sterile and empty as my heart—Goddamn it.
I raid the MRE storage, not bothering with anything that might taste good. I'm used to toughing it. I do begin filling my canteen from the spicket before seeing that the water flows red. I stick a finger under the steam, licking it.
Damn it, that girl was right.
Hi-C.
Well, at least it's some kind of fluid to hydrate me. I top the canteen off and sling it back over my shoulder.
My face is clenched; this is something I realize halfway down the stairs and almost outside. Am I always this intense? —Always this pissed? My heartbeat and feet thud to match every angry thought against Mimi, Dormouse and Sparo—all of them. They say they're my friends, but they're so talk-it-through and no action. I have one speed: go. I'm not gonna sit there. I can't sit there and just—
I break through the doors at the end of the hall. My eyes adjust to the sinking afternoon sun—
Figures.
Two.
Up ahead.
I'm instantly rigid. My dagger swishes as I unsheathe it, holding it ready in my hand.
...Green hair? Wait, I know that girl.... A green-haired girl with black lipstick and tattoos guides a young boy up the path towards the mansion. She's the prisoner Rosabella released to her sister. Well look what the cat dragged in...
"Halt!" I yell, holding up my blade, "Put your hands up. No fucking weapons, I am not in the mood—"
"Neither am I," the green-haired girl agrees as she walks closer, though her and the kid both raise their hands high. She stares at the towers above us, disappearing into the clouds, with open shock, "I can't believe it; we're here. It led us back—"
"What I can't believe is how stupid and predictable criminals are," I gripe, closing the distance between us with three quick steps and grabbing the back of her shirt to dangle her above the ground. ...Like picking up a full-grown cat... "Come to see your handiwork? Did you do this?! Did you send that message to Rosabella?!" I shake her.
Her face pales.
She kicks, "No—no! What are you talking about?!"
The kid starts bawling—screaming. I hate it when kids scream.
I lean into her face, "Rosabella released you. Why the hell would you come back here other than to cause chaos? Wanna get back at us for the cell, huh? Make all of us suffer?!"
"Ew, get out of my face," she tries to shove me back, but I'm stronger. Her attempt just looks like a pitiful girl fight, batting hands at me.
The kid shrieks, bawling louder—
"Shut him up—please!" I screech.
And the green-haired girl ducks to calm the boy. The little kid's chest heaves in and out, but he quiets at her whispered words.
"Now tell me what the fuck I'm running into you for before I lock you both up again and see if the cockroaches stop—"
"Cockroaches?" the girl makes a grossed-out face, "Call pest control or something. I'm just trying to get this kid to safety. He's infected with the darkness. My sister was gonna kill him. Can you give him safety here? Maybe...find a cure?"
Her words freeze me.
Darkness?
My eyes swivel to the little boy. His eyes are ringed from crying and his lips press into a pucker but...but he and I have more in common than he knows. All the breath leaks out of me.
"Sure," I offer, "Sure, we can—"
"Since I'm here, I want to warn you too," the girl says, fumbling with a necklace chain around her neck. She looks strangely nervous when I remember her as such a pushy thing. Her hands pull at the dark hood behind her neck, adjusting it.
Warn us?
"My sister's crazy," the girl breathes, "The Game brought her back from death for me but...she's different—changed..."
I twirl a strand of pink-hair around a finger, studying her face blankly, "And this has to do with me because—"
"Because she's after Rosabella," she blurts. Her face creases with confusion and frustration, "She has some vendetta against her—I don't know how or why but..."
And there it is.
Maybe that stray puzzle piece I was looking for. And the part of me that doesn't give two shits about people suddenly very much gives two shits.
"Why don't you come inside?" I offer, extending a sweeping hand indoors like I'm this place's freaking butler.