Christ... it's chapter 19 already? What're we doing with our stupid lives, man...
Let's throw a dart and see who this chapter's gonna be about... (I have a rather loose definition of "chapter", much like "writing", if you haven't been able to tell yet.)
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Warhead was adjusting poorly since his return from bugger 'Nam, also known as "Hawaii". You'd think being the sole person responsible for holding back the bug apocalypse would instill within him a feeling of price and accomplishment. But that couldn't be further from the truth.
Warhead felt more like a chump or a schmuck, than anything else. When he wasn't having nightmares of people being dismantled for bug chow or having to spend hours washing out his underwear soaked with bug guts after a fierce battle.
What used to be a fun and novel experience in his callow youth had become joyless and corrosive. Life didn't seem fair, sometimes.
One little light in his life swish-swayed up to him this bleak and hopeless morn.
"Uncle, here's your meds."
Hellion's Mionions didn't have a real doctor, alchemist, or healer, so normally they sourced these kinds of things from standard pharmacies. Unfortunately, Warhead's terminal brooding angst was too much for over the counter junk, so the eggheads had to take a crack at making his meds themselves. This batch was cooked in Socket's toilet, with some materials sourced from Viper's stash. (She hadn't seemed to be using them lately, for some reason.)
Warhead popped the cap off and swallowed the entire container of pills.
"... that was a whole month's supply."
Warhead patted her shoulder.
"There there Igneous..."
"Ifrit."
"There there Sandshrew..."
Warhead lost where he was going there, as saliva begin to drool out of the side of his mouth. His neurons responsible for higher reasoning had decided to take a vacation for a month or six.
Exactly what the meds were intended to do. He might be a turnip, but by god it stopped those shakes!
Ifrit wondered if Socket's philosophy on medicine might be a little too extreme. But she couldn't argue with the results: before he started medicating, Warhead had attacked Nicole twelve or twenty four times. It was getting annoying. And he was more pleasant to be around like this.
Case in point:
"Did he take the stuff?"
Nicole was peeking around the corner, seeing if it was safe to come out yet.
"Yeah, you can get your stuff now."
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"Wicked!"
Ifrit shook her head. Nicole was trying this new thing to make the bullying stop: using hip lingo that appealed to the kids. She didn't have the heart to explain the slang she was using was from hundreds of years ago, and was only popular for a brief weekend when everyone had lost their minds.
Nicole was excited about finally getting to eat her coffee and muffins - a rare treat for an outcast such as her. However, if she had thought that the Warhead had been neutralized, she was sadly mistaken.
He quickly zammed toward her.
"Eek!"
Everyone felt slightly awkward at the scene in front of themselves. The kind of out-of-context oddness you can't prepare for, the kind of situation usually instigated by a certain Tofu-shaped person on the regular. Other people doing something similar was quite the accomplishment.
Warhead.... was hugging Nicole's leg.
"Santa."
Nicole thought about this for a moment, and decided she didn't really care as long as she got her muffins. She scooped up about sixty of them, hissed at a bonehead who got too close, and bunkered down in a corner to eat them.
This was possibly the very best morning she had ever had, after the mutation.
Warhead stayed attached for the better part of the morning, before falling off. Ifrit tucked him in for a nap, alongside his Mother Ant Eating A Teenager plushie. (Warhead called this thing "Betsy".) Then she headed to the training grounds.
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What awaited her was an abomination. It disgusted her to her core. Every try-hard bone in her body cried out with rage.
There was barely anyone there at all, and those who were... looked less than motivated. One was laying on the ground staring at the ceiling. Some were playing patty-cakes. The vibe was downright weird.
Unlike the perky energetic minions she was used to, these ones looked fat and lethargic - easy prety for a Magenta or Burgundy.
"What's going on here? Have you guys done anything?"
"Ah, we're just hanging out. Nobody ever comes here, and the other minions are mean to us."
Ifrit wasn't quite sure what was going on yet, but she didn't like it. She tried to motivate the unmotivated.
"Get up! Run some laps! You don't want to get busted or eaten, right?!"
"Ah, you're not scary at all."
"Yeah, after that crazy fucker started training us, nothing really feels as motivatin', you know? I feel like I'd rather jump into a boxing ring with Brick, than get yelled at by that dude!"
"At least we showed up, maaaan..."
Ifrit was beginning to think.... maybe Warhead's meds had some unlisted side effects, after all.