-three weeks later-
“Puppy, get back here! Those are for the reception!” Dennis chased Sagebear down the hall, dressed in his leather vest and bandana ensemble like he had for his own wedding.
Sagebear herself was dressed in her very own dog tuxedo, carrying a package of raw steaks between her teeth. She waddled down past a corner, into one of the doors on the other side.
When Dennis turned said corner himself, it looked as though Sagebear disappeared into thin air.
Malum’s decapitated head fell to the ground with everyone watching. It ended up splattering all over like an overripe melon, with some of the mess getting on Meliora’s face.
Then, all was silent for a little while. It became so quiet, that it was almost stifling. Annette bent over the edge of the pillar, trying to get a better look.
“Is it over?” She could hear Shark quietly ask.
Malum continued to laugh at Annette’s apparent misfortune, beckoning the others to come closer to her.
“There’s no need to be shy, everyone!” She said to them. “I’m sure dear Annette is aching to hear your voices again!
Annette could only wait with intense dread as the group stepped forward to confront her.
Once again, Annette was in what looked to be a kind of church. Unlike the churches she witnessed Ox-Head in, however, this one was far brighter and not invoking general coldness of religion.
In fact, the overall atmosphere promised a rather joyous occasion, if not a rather obvious one. It was clear from who was present as well.
This time, Annette saw a slightly older-looking Dennis standing at the altar, sweating profusely.
By some stroke of luck, Meliora had managed to get a hit on Malum. From this moment of serendipity, both of them appeared to be shocked.
It was to be expected. In some quick, momentary lapse, Malum’s Omnipotence seemed to have failed her.
(Fun fact: I was half-asleep when I wrote this chapter, I’m quite certain it’s evident throughout)
Pushing a door open with her foot, The Twin carried Horse-Face’s companion into a rather unique room.
Twelve pedestals sat empty within, with six on either side of her. She briefly looked at all of them before continuing on.
The Twin then reached another door, which led to a series of small, connected rooms. She walked through the first six empty rooms quickly.
“So do you think there’ll be a chance to reverse the crystallization in the past?” Amelia asked her sister while inspecting the currently inactive time portal.
Amara just stood behind her with her arms crossed. “The Time Traveler only did it as a last resort, I think. Unless he’s left documents telling us what to do in the case of this, then I don’t know for sure.
“I’ll bet that it’ll reverse once they return though. And if it doesn’t, well…Hope they can get used to another era.”
(No, this has nothing to do with that dreadful Spider-Man comic arc)
The Twin’s next destination was to her sister’s room, a place she never wished to set foot into again. She swallowed and pressed on, however, her personal grievances meaning nothing in the grand scheme of things.
She knew she was going in the right direction, by the powerful smells of menthol and booze, and the scent of blood. By the time she reached the door leading to the room, she had to pinch her nose shut.
As always, the room was a mess. Numerous weapons and partially eaten body parts littered the floor and tables inside. The bed was messy, and showed clear signs that it hadn’t been washed in quite some time.
(Warning! Brief allusions to incest and rape!)
Once The Twin stepped cautiously out of the hidden passage, she found herself in the room with the jail cells. The only sound that could be heard was that of her footprints approaching one of the cells.
After she opened the cell door, The Twin walked over to the two dolls still in their chairs. Julian was still propped up in his, but Samira had fallen over onto the table.
Though they were stuffed dolls now, and incapable of feeling pain, The Twin still tried to be careful with picking them up. Continue Reading
Shark didn’t know how to react at what he just heard. The man before him had some resemblance to him, but not entirely.
The supposed other Shark wore glasses, and had a different hairstyle. He wore a more formal attire, and had a five o’clock shadow growing on his face. He also looked rather sad, and defeated.
What stood out the most to Shark, however, was the bruising on his neck, indicating something terrible happened.
The Racket-Rotter Chronicles 