SAVE POINT 74
Loading a Green-Haired-Girl Problem...99%
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1102021402707628096/1123966437346791434/fb083851-0a98-4bd1-be31-076b594957dd.png][https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1102021402707628096/1123966511623708816/4c5beabe-3149-4c1c-9b3d-51bec3325489.png]
Dormouse
Admittedly, I'm using Fanboi as a bit of a human shield the closer we get to the Slytherin fan crowd. Part of me is curious. The other part knows when to give up and roll over, playing dead with the best of them like a small, scared animal. ...And, I'm currently feeling like the second option might hold some serious merit...
There's five of them, something I've discovered by way of a quick headcount.
Five Slytherin fans.
Two, engaged in what appears to be a heated lightsaber battle, their swishing, interlocking blades making hissing and searing noises in the air. One wears a t-shirt emblazoned with Joy's face with a pink checkmark over it above gothic letters proclaiming: 'RESTING BITCH FACE'.
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1102021402707628096/1123972616902934628/Copy_of_THEIF_39.jpg]
A second girl wears a green and black scarf wrapped around her neck, even in this heat, with a similar Joy tee. This one shouting 'FUCK YOUR FORESIGHT' and, underneath in parenthesis, '[I Have a Cheat Code for That]'.
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1102021402707628096/1123972616642900030/Copy_of_THEIF_40.jpg]
...And, then, there's a bearded, middle-aged man who looks as lost as I feel inside.
"Dudes, hey!" the bearded man shouts, nodding at us to signal our approach to the group.
A girl with shamrock-green hair pulled up in short, protruding pigtails waltzes directly at me—shit. I've been discovered. An enormous sneer encases her otherwise petite features, "Well if it isn't Martyr Mouse in the House—"
"Hey, lay off," an athletic-looking, Hispanic man confronts the green-haired girl, rolling his amble shoulders back as he faces her like he's gonna bite her, "I like Dormouse." He flashes a smile at me which makes me more than slightly uncomfortable, "Sign my abs?"
He lifts his t-shirt to reveal rippling, tan pectorals and a killer tattoo which takes up most of his right side.
...And then there's that.
I wince in what must be a clearly tangible way because his smile flickers.
"He's straight, asshole," Maude lectures, attempting to bat the guy away, but it's only partially working.
"Cool," the kid flashes his brilliant, pearly whites again, raising an interested eyebrow, "I'm not."
"Good lot of villains you have here," Maude raises her arms widely, spinning to address Fanboi, "All I see are morons—"
"Watch it, lady," the green-haired, pigtailed one growls. With a quickness that, frankly, scares me, she yanks a lightsaber from the hands of another in the group, bringing the glowing, blue tip down in front of Maude's face. The buzzing point hovers just in front of her lips, pausing there.
"Did you know in the medieval era they'd cut out your tongue for lying?" A particularly savage glint in the green-pigtailed girl's eyes makes my throat tighten. I hate that it's her hand on the other side of that saber.
The panic attack is already ensuing in my chest.
Oh my God—oh my God—I can't let her harm Maude! No, I don't like-like the blonde anymore, but she's still a person. Still someone—shit. I'm gonna have to do something... Does it have to be me????
"Hey, careful; you know, those things are real," I blubber, stepping forward before a second, green lightsaber swishes towards me thanks to another kid. He holds it, buzzing in the air, at my chest.
I throw up my hands in innocence and defeat, but—damn. These guys are serious.
These psychos definitely are the reason for the crack and the earthquake. The evidence is all around us—weapons literally laying in the yellow, field grass—at our feet:
A few different wands.
A bejeweled broad sword.
A bow and a quiver of arrows.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Two ornate daggers.
They could have brought some of it through the portal with them, but not all. Definitely not the very real lightsabers, at least. That had to have been made with creator magic—creator magic that none of them have. ...Black magic. I get it, they want to feel cool—finally hold the weapons they've watched movies and read about—but...
But there's a price for everything.
"Why should we trust you?" the green-haired leader squints at both me and her light-saber weapon like trying to determine if it is, in fact, sharp, "You're probably lying."
Defying all laws of physics again, the girl twists her wrist before I can even blink and brings the saber down—
Sizzle!
Zing!
When the smoke clears, I see both a hefty slice out of a nearby rock and the villainous nerds' jaws...dropping open as they stare at the rock's still-fuming gap.
"Not lying, see?" Maude points out, stubbornly.
...An action which just means she's instantly at the pointed end of the blue lightsaber again.
"Doesn't mean I'm going to surrender," argues the green-haired girl with a growl; her tiny pigtails wobbling and a purple tongue ring showing through her teeth.
And it's come down to this: which entitled, bull-headed girl will outlast? This suddenly feels like a reality tv show.
"Everyone calm down."
I don't really realize I've said the words till every eye in this corner of the field lands on me.
SH-EYE-T.
"Who told you you could talk?" demands a scrawny looking kid whose glasses tell me he's been teased before.
"Listen," I reason carefully, "put the saber down and—and I'll sign this guy's abs like he wanted. What's your name?" I nod at the guy from before. My voice sounds strangely casual coming from my lips—really, what kind of cool-guy demon has taken over my body suddenly? I'm kinda okay with it...
"Sprocket55," the Hispanic guy stutters back, looking, suddenly, thrown off.
But my smoothness continues, "Sproket55, that signature you wanted—done if you let me and my friends go."
The guy's eyes flash between me and the green-haired girl at the head of the group, "Dude, do it."
But the rest don't look as convinced. In fact, they look...suspicious.
"I'll—I'll sign anything you want"—I'm well-aware I'm all but begging now. My eyes dart to Mimi's flashing ones—"You can sell the signatures if you don't want to keep them, make money off this, okay? Just lower the weapons. Let the blonde girl go."
Maude.
I can see she's barely swallowing against the tip of the blue lightsaber. She's not one to be scared, but I swear I see the emotion bubbling up in her eyes.
Down.
I watch as the green-haired girl finally lowers her weapon. Slowly. Maude clutches at her throat and steps back to our side. The green lightsaber leaves my chest too. Annoying head-of-Slytherin-villain-club blows out a sigh, ruffling her shelf of green bangs.
"If you ask me," she huffs, "this game has been dry so far. It needs a little...chaos. Something to run from. I'm happy to supply that in the future."
"You all have no idea the chaos you've already caused here," Mimi lectures, raising a finger, that only makes the green-haired girl raise an eyebrow telling me she's barely listening as she feigns a yawn. "Creation—magic—" Mimi continues, "isn't allowed here unless it's by a Game Maker. You don't have the title—"
"Creating all these weapons and such is black magic. It cracks The Game world and causes zombies and darkness," I start, interrupting and hoping I can amend Mimi's textbook description to a plea that will mean something to the group.
"Zombies?" the girl spits, looking relieved, "Finally, something I can get on board with. ...You think I care about hurting your Game? You are as naive as they say. Buh-bye, fan favorite. I'm bored with all of you. I think I'll go create and ride a winged black leopard to find a dragon or something with some real amusement factor."
"No—" Mimi lunges forward.
But the green-pigtailed girl has already snapped her fingers.
And an enormous, growling, black leopard with massive angel wings appears right beside her. And she easily jumps on its back, digging the heels of her studded, combat boots into the beast, who snarls at the pain.
"Let's ride!" she screams.
And the beast's enormous wings beat at the air around us, kicking up hurricane winds.
And the sky which had just been sunny is suddenly dark.
As rain pelts down.
And the girl takes off.
Till we're all left staring at the bleak clouds above while water runs like tears we haven't cried yet down our cheeks. I wipe a hand through my now-soaked hair, feeling...is this emotion called 'desperation'? 'Hopelessness'? Well, this didn't go to plan...
"Great," Maude—also thoroughly soaked from the rain with her blonde hair plastered to her cheeks, turns towards Fanboi, "so, now, we have to run after Miss Bo-Peep like the lost sheep."
"Except she's a psycho," I add.
Fanboi scratches at his unkempt beard, nodding, "Bro, literally could not have phrased that better myself." He shakes his dreads like a dog trying to dispel the water from its coat, but it's little use; the deluge is only continuing. "EmeraldCity_88," the man drawls, thoughtfully, "Sounded like an innocent username...who knew she was a little shit..."
We stare in silence at the rest of the Slytherin group, at a loss for words except—
Except something crazy wells up in me then.
A knowing.
An urge.
A confidence.
That I haven't had before.
"I'll do it. I'll go after her," I vow determinedly. I turn to Mimi who's already opened her mouth to protest, "Mimi, you and Maude stay here and do what you were trained for—portal crowd control. You'll need Fanboi's direction. He knows these people. I'll find EmeraldCity and bring her back before she can do anymore harm. I can do this."
My arms and heart dance with a strange set of untethered nerves.
But, truth be told, I wonder if I'm saying that last sentence for them...or for me.