Tales From the Burgerverse: The Decaying City and the Dying Town

Another foggy day in Seattle. Much like how California is known for months of nonstop sunlight, Seattle gets endless days of fog and mist. The wandering concrete maze of the city makes it even less likely for people in the city proper to see the sun at certain times of the day. Among the meandering masses of the fog ridden city was a rather dorky man. Scrawnier than a stickman and with glasses for his glasses, he called this place home. A collector of trading cards and figurines for tabletop games, he was rarely seen without a bag on his person and some sort of pile of books held together with a worn, leather belt. To put it frankly, he's a total nerd. Checking his outdated phone, the date shone on the screen in the most glorious font known to typography: Comic Sans. The godly font in garish, neon orange hollered its presence with "16 January, 2022." Another incredibly notable part of this nerd is the fact his lower half is a spider scaled up by several orders of magnitude. A drider, a person who's humanoid from the waist up and spider from the waist down, is able to spin webs and traverse sheer angles much like a standard spider. This bookish one in particular was named Rakno. Rakno the Drider.
The cool air of the bleak morning snapped Rakno back into focus and he returned to his stroll through the merciless wall of low hanging clouds to his destination; a small brick and mortar card shop.
"Hehe hya... Rakna, ya wandarin' drongo. What can I get fer ya this time?" The clerk jested with his thicker than lead Australian accent.
"Oh, relax, Dundee. I just.. uh... wanted to swing by." Ranko chuckled.
"Ya betta not be tryin' ta get me ta get yer talkin' walkin' cards again. Last time it ate my lunch." The clerk groaned. "Bloody sentient dragon card..."
"Don't worry, just... uh... got any copies of... uh... Bloodgift Demon?" Rakno stuttered, mimicking a faulty car engine.
"Wheneva ya get a day off, ya always get somethin' new." The clerk chuckled as he pulled a shoebox off a metal shelf.
"George, you know I come in here a lot." Rakno responded, diving deep into the box of trading cards. "Also... uh... need a Sire of Insanity."
"Ye gonna try bringin' 'em ta life again?" George asked, laughing a bit.
"How'd you know?" Rakno inquired.
"I saw ye magic a spider into existence outta card in my store. Weirdest place fer a family reunion." George answered with a friendly grin.
"Speaking of... family.. I'll be gone for a few weeks. Going to my... uh... hometown soon. Fort Garisun..." Rakno mumbled. 
The arachnid humanoid hybrid emerged from the small shop, reentering the oppressive fog of the American Northwest. The slow, meticulous march to the nearest airport took more than enough time. A PA machine crackled with static to a sort of life support instead of thriving life.
"This is your... Airport speaking or something. We're all good in spite of the... fog or whatever you call it. Just don't open the thingamajigs in the back of the plane." The dying announcement system wheezed out like a sickly man.
A cloud of thick, suffocating dust drooped from the archaic speaker like a soggy piece of bread. The hours spent lazing about on a row of uncomfortable plastic chairs that could barely be sat upon by Rakno didn't help the boredom that permeated the graffiti tagged room. The only upside Rakno had of being a drider was having an entire row of seats to himself. 
"Uh... this is your captain speaking and Air Traffic Whateverthefuck can't see shit but I got a good feeling about this working. My copilot is currently drunk and sleeping on a pillow made entirely of empty beer cans. Hope you have a good flight with Spirit Air." The captain slurred into the microphone.
A collective groan of wanting this to be done with filled the plane as it made its way from the taxiway to the wrong runway. The takeoff was incredibly shaky but went off without a hitch as the plane sort of limped upwards instead of gracefully lifting. An incredibly jaded flight attendant yawned through the mandatory safety demonstration before lighting up a cigarette in the cabin. The sunlight burst through the duct taped windows of the plane, making itself known to Seattle residents for the first time in weeks. Naturally, many of them shielded their eyes as the sudden blinding light melted their retinas. The ramshackle plane did its job before falling apart like a cartoon skit upon stopping, making a strangely comical ending bring a small laugh after a grueling flight lasting several hours.
"Stupid humidity..." Rakno grumbled.
The endlessly looping copyright free country music vaguely whispering from the speakers signified to Rakno he arrived. The broiling heat of the stagnant air further made Rakno ill-tempered, which didn't help considering the several hour flight with airplane chairs held together with staples caked in corrosion. A simple painted sign signified that this was the Birmingham International Airport, an hour and a half drive south of Fort Garisun.
"Whaddaya mean I can't bring my pet iguana on a plane? Today is his birthday!" A rather belligerent alligator human mixture roared.
The rather peculiar reptilian man wore an equally bizarre outfit of cargo jean shorts, a woman's hoodie consisting solely of sleeves and a cooking pot as a hat. Both of the man's legs and one of his arms were robotic, a clicking and whirring machine connected to an input in a manner identical to a power cord. A small, colorful iguana perched on the alligator man's shoulder, just happily basking in the sunlight. The cooking pot had several stickers of Florida emblazoned on random spots, all in hunter's orange.
"Oh! Spider Man! Get this bad guy!" The alligator man belligerently hissed. "Or just take me with you."
"Please! Make him go away. It's been 45 minutes since he started his meltdown." The desperate customer service worker wept. "I just want to go home!"
"Uh... whatever your name is, if you stop... uh... I'll... uh... give you a burrito?" Rakno offered with the confidence of a doormat.
"Alright! Taco Bell! Here I come!" The rather less than shining beacon of intelligence that was the alligator man bellowed.
From the alligator man, a flooded car engine noise swaggered its way into the room. Like the revving of a motorboat's engine but ceasing up and sputtering out, the bellowing was prolonged as the alligator man dropped his wallet. Written on a bar napkin stained with drops of some unidentifiable substance, the man's name turned out to be Allen Gator. The faded indigo glitter pen writing the name and other details were, to put it kindly, generous. It was obvious Allen was a fair dozen pounds overweight and shorter than he described himself as by several inches.
"Well, whatever your name is, let's go! For Florida!" Allen cheered as he stamped out of the airport. "Where are we going anyway?"
"Uh... Fort Garisun. It's... not on maps..." Rakno chuckled a bit.
"No excitement like going somewhere not on a map! This way! To my car!" Allen grinned as he dragged Rakno by the arm.
A Jeep M715 Kaiser was what greeted the pair, decorated with the finest military fatigues green paint and the beige cloth roof having a small bullet hole in the roof. The bed of the truck had a somewhat unkempt yet carefully layered plant leaf green webbing draped over a large, oak tree brown blanket held by several steel poles.
"Got this giant for six bucks and a pack of cigarettes at a flea market!" Allen cheered as he guided Ranko to the truck bed. "Try making yourself comfortable in the back, man. Also, don't touch the jerry cans. Gasoline is for bonfires, trucks and chemistry. Not breathin'."
"T-thanks..." Rakno whispered, barely above a cat's footstep in sound.
The shelves added to the bottom of the support beams but above the floor were filled to the brim with jerry cans full of gasoline, all perfectly set in place so none of them shake, slide or slosh while driving. Despite the ramshackle demeaner of Allen, it's clear he's far from incompetent when it comes to working on his beloved heavy truck. Something abnormal must've helped him with this, bizarre even.
"If you need anything, just yell for me. Will need help with directions, so have this GPS." Allen dribbled as a rusted metal machine clattered on the floor of the truck bed.
This apparent GPS device miraculously worked despite being held together with a piece of blue painter's tape. It clambered to functionality and, through some bizarre happenstance, happened to pick up the location within Fort Garisun.
"Alright, we gotta... uh... go... uh... go up I59..." Rakno stuttered like a faulty exhaust.
Off they went, from the impoverished city of Birmingham to find the unmapped hamlet founded by a drunk dullard on land not even wanted simply because of the fact its land. Given the sparse density of people in Alabama, the toughest part of the drive was leaving Birmingham behind, never to return to the shithole where neglect rules. The lanes were clogged with barely functional dimwits behind the wheel of their beat up cars, and the breakneck speed of one or two inches every few minutes left many more angry at the fact they're stuck behind someone who can't drive, unaware of the fact that they, themselves, are unable to drive. Some rather calm individual kicked their driver door open and approached the rear of the Jeep M715 Kaiser that Rakno and Allen were in.
"Oh shit! Bro! Someone's trying to carjack us!" Allen yelled in a mix of panic and anger.
"GET OUT MUH TOWN, BOY!" The hooligan drawled with heavy slurring, either from alcohol or just a strong Southeastern accent. "YER FROM FLERIDUH!"
A thud was heard as a slam and sudden slight tilt shook the truck bed. Rakno walked out to find Allen and the stranger in a fist fight.
"Yew done it now, boy! Face my Stand!" The hooligan yelled as he struck a peculiar pose.
Rakno couldn't see this "Stand" thing, but he had a feeling he should get out of the way as Allen lunged at the goon. Another shake to the truck, more belligerent shouting.
"21st Century Digital Boy!" Allen growled as a small cassette tape player started to twist on itself.
The now mangled piece of obsolete audio equipment morphed into a punching gauntlet of cheap plastic and magnetic tape reading components. A crunch of flimsy plastic was heard as Allen's fist was stopped by something Rakno couldn't see. A worry befell the drider as he desperately thought of a way to help his Floridian friend. A desperate shout and gesticulation of his hands, for reasons beyond his own understanding, sent a large icicle towards the foe Allen was in a tussle with. Nobody knew how an icicle could form in such a hot climate outside of a freezer, but the shard of frozen water hit the goon in his hand. The meaty part of his hand between his index finger and thumb had a several inch icicle through it. Everyone involved stopped fighting and started panicking, with the iced man clutching his damaged hand to try to keep it from getting worse until help arrived. Allen simply jumped back in the driver's seat and got as far as he could in this traffic nightmare.
"Shit... wh- how... What was that?" Rakno asked, shocked at the rapid escalation.
"You're a wizard, Harry!" Allen laughed. "Or whatever your name is."
"How'd I... uh.. do that?" Rakno asked, still as awkward as ever. "I... uh... waved my hands and mumbled something..."
"My boy," Allen said, sounding like King Harkinian from the Legend of Zelda games on the Phillips CDi console. "This piece is what all true warriors strive for!"
"That- THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!" Rakno shouted, visibly confused.
"Oh. Something about your cool spell Ice Knife or something. Hey, since we're stuck in traffic... any interesting hobbies?" Allen asked.
"uh... i... i dunno..." Rakno whispered. "i guess cards...?"
The pair had a fairly awkward conversation, slowly advancing through the line and eventually getting to less packed roadway. The endless ocean of leafless trees felt rather familiar to Rakno, given how he spent a decent part of his life living in Alabama. The ever normal quiet, empty road was simply a memory clawing its way back into Rakno's mind. Remembering how empty the state felt, and how rare it was to see huge lines of cars. It came rushing back like a speeding truck.
"Hey, we're near a Taco Bell. Gonna stop for some food." Allen broke the silence with.
A small line at the register greeted them. One random person looked towards the electronic bell noise and had a face with a visible mixture of rage and disgust, like he just stepped in a dog turd with brand new shoes on.
"YOU! I DO RRRRRRREMEMBER YOU! YOU DESTRRRRRRRRROYED EVERRRRRRRRYTHING I WORKED FOR WITH YOUR RRRRRRRRRRUINUS, DESTRRRRRRUCTIVE AND SCURRRRRRRRRILOUS PLANS!" The stranger screamed.
"Who are you again?" Rakno and Allen asked.
"I AM FLOYD! BUT YOU WOULD RRRRRRREMEMBER ME AS YOUR CRRRRRRREATIVE WRRRRRRRRRITING TEACHER!" Floyd continued, uncaring of the ass of himself he's making. "You... you initiated the genesis of my downard spirrrral!"
"Watch out, spider guy. He's got a brick golem with him." Allen said as he stepped in front of Rakno.
"AH! You've seen my undestrrrrrrrrructible, invulnerrrrrrrable, inbeatable and demiurgic Stand, Another Brrrrrrick In the Wall!" Floyd cheered.
"Oh yeah. I... uh... remember you always... uh... describing yourself like that. That word... I don't think it means what you think it means." Rakno sighed.
"PRRRRRRRRREPARE FOR AN ALMIGHTY FAIL!" Floyd said, like it was his warcry.
Running forward like a leopard, Floyd tripped over his own foot and broke his nose on the floor. Nobody laughed at his inept charge, but instead stared awkwardly at the bloody nosed English teacher sprawled on the floor with his glasses broken, his suit jacket damaged with blood and what little dignity remained shattered.
"You... flatfooted cowards!" Floyd wailed as he shuffled out and into his clunker of a car.
"That... uh... let's just get our food..." Allen said.
The residual awkwardness of the situation clung to the air for dear life, thickening with each second. The quiet drive back onto the interstate eventually lead to a sudden stop. Incessant car horns and drunk, belligerent people turned their cars into one another's paths, leading to further delays. Rakno, using his spider legs, walked across the wall to the top of the bed cover to see what the cause was, and it was an incredibly adorable cause. A mother duck and her ducklings were crossing the road, entirely unscathed by the several car pile up. The waterfowl caused the same delays on the other side of the highway, leading to a drunken imbecile getting a rather nasty case of road rash.
"Hey, spider. You see that thing surrounding the ducks? I don't think it's a Stand, but it's magic, right?" Allen hollered.
"I don't know what this 'Stand' thing you said is, but maybe?" Rakno shrugged.
"Oh yea, I think it's a druid guiding some ducklings to safety. I see a protective sphere around them." Allen said. "Maybe a druid wizard combo."
"And the baby ducks... uh... uh... are the druid's kids?" Rakno asked.
"I don't know, I have a pet iguana." Allen shrugged before pushing the crumpled cars aside with his beast of a truck.
Eventually arriving in the derelict shithole known as Fort Garisun, they pulled into the only restaurant in the empty town that wasn't a bar: Burger Count.
"MMph ish thish plashe?" Allen said with half of a burrito in his maw.
"Fort Garisun. The... uh... worthless hellhole... I'm... from..." Rakno sighed with nothing but embarrassment in his voice.
The building itself would appear abandoned at first given how it seems to have gone decades without any maintenance, vines of poison ivy and kudzu growing out of the exhaust vent in the ceiling and creeping into the gravel parking lot. Only the hardiest of plant dared to claim this place as its own, and not even the impossible to get rid of dandelion called this territory home.
"Hey, you know I'm a druid, right? This is kudzu." Allen said, oddly knowledgeable in something for once.
"Uh... what's that?" Rakno asked, carefully watching.
"Highly invasive weed. It's all over Mississippi, and makes land worthless. My druid circle focuses on removing invasive species, so... just need some gasoline to fix this!" Allen grinned as a bright green flame ignited from his metal index fingertip.
"How'd you- what?" Rakno asked again.
"Yeah, I do this for a living. I travel across the Southern US and deal with invasive species. Last month I went to New England to deal with some green crab infestation." Allen continued. "Tennessee got pissed they weren't the first to make crab whiskey."
"That sounds... awful." Rakno groaned.
"Hold it, stay outside. I think I saw something move inside." Allen said, putting his arm in Rakno's path.
The pair silently watched with bated breath as they stared into the overgrown catacomb of a knockoff burger chain, anxiously waiting for something to happen. It was hard to see through the boarded up windows caked in years of grime, dust and damaged by solar light from about five feet away, and the tar black inside only further complicated this.
"Whatever it is, it probably hid from us." Allen said, confidently swaggering to the padlocked door.
"What's your... uh... plan?" Rakno shyly asked.
"21st Century Digital Boy. Show off your talent." Allen said, pointing at the mud brown lock.
Though Rakno couldn't see it, a small, steel orb with a large, neon red circle and a small antenna appeared from Allen's fleshy hand. The suddenly arriving guest approached the lock and caused the sludge caked springs to retract and open the lock.
"Huh. Neat." Rakno said.
"You'd be surprised what my Stand can do. Last week it turned a fridge into a freezer." Allen grinned heartily.
Rakno and Allen slowly entered the tomb of the burger restaurant, fire ant filled cobwebs hung from the ceiling to the floor, several inches thick in some places. Hundreds of cracked brown recluse spider egg sacs saturated the dust and cobweb filled air, and both parties horrifically coughed and wheezed due to how inhospitable the air was to them. Much like the building itself, the air seemed to almost be in the same state of decay and abandonment throughout the empty carcass of what once was a place to eat.
"Ah fuck... is that mold?" Allen spat in between coughs.
"might be." Rakno quietly wheezed through shallow breaths.
Backing away towards the Jeep Kaiser, Allen shuffled through a bright orange case with several warning labels on it including one for hazardous air conditions.
"The other druids call me a heretical heretic for having this. They mock me and tell me 'Allen, don't use a gas mask just use magic and wildshape.' Well, look who's laughing now!" Allen shouted, unzipping a specialized hazardous material suit from a bag.
"Uh... got anything extra?" Rakno asked, looking carefully through the organized case.
A brightly colored yellow gas mask covered Rakno's face, attached to a fifty liter canister of pure oxygen gas.
"Huda mmph huda huda!" Allen mumbled.
A confident footstep rang through the former dining room, being the only sound audible to most within seemingly a century. The several inch thick cobwebs shook from the noise disturbance, thousands of brown recluse spider hatchlings emerged to feast on the fire ants left behind. Fungal growths of mold and bright yellow mushrooms were reclaiming the ceilings, decayed plumbing fixtures tables. Much like traversing the dense underbrush of a jungle or forest, the growth of kudzu, poison ivy and cobwebs proved it impossible to advance quickly without some sort of thick blade. It seemed like a maze of necrotizing spider webs and irritating plants conquered this for its empire.
"Hey, uh... mister. Watch out for these spiders." Rakno said through his gas mask.
Allen was too focused on watching where he walked to answer, using his fishing spear as a test for the floor ahead. Each set of taps summoned a horde of cockroaches, ants, clouds of black mold spores and horrific diseases numbering in the dozens.
"OH SHIT!" Rakno shouted before casting the Ice Knife spell in a random direction.
The icicle got caught by the cobwebs, embedded too deep for it to rupture and instead impotently melt in the stagnant, sweltering air. A clattering of bones filled the air as a skeleton popped out of the floor, clad in rusty chunks of sheet steel for roofing and armed with a machete style of bladed weapon made from a lawnmower blade attached to a handle of fungi damaged wood. Frantic slashing at the horrid overgrowth of vines that grow like plague in cities by the skeleton freed some of the cracked, mushroom growing tile floor for walking.
"Hey, I think I know that guy. It's Gerard." Rakno said in surprise.
The skeleton ran towards Rakno, blade ready to strike him down. A sudden kick at the skeletal warrior from Allen sent the undead fighter tumbling to the ground, bones still attached to each other by fungal growths and vine implants. The dropped blade was claimed by the thickest web in the interior, all of the blade but the handle stuck in a several foot thick pillar of spider webbing, hundreds of thousands of spiders scurrying about.
"Stay back, pal!" Allen shouted, spear at the ready.
A sudden fist flung towards Allen, barely connecting with the mask's visor. Both the alligator and the skeleton struggled for control over the fishing spear soon after as the bladed stick went towards the empty lower abdomen of the reanimated pile of bones. A leash of electricity flung towards the rust caked skeleton, crackling with raw power and blinding light. A surge of strength seared its way through Rakno, pulling the assailant towards him and landing a swift blow to the skeleton's eye socket.
"That one, I know... uh... I can do." Rakno stammered.
Suddenly, the skeleton's hands forced themselves around Rakno's neck and forced the drider to the disease ridden floor. Rakno kept punching the damnable attacker in the bony face as hard as he could, bloodying his hand and cracking the skull. Allen ran towards the shambling bones and jammed the blade of his spear through the back of the skull, sending chunks of skull and small mushroom sprouts back to Allen. Unfazed, the fungal blooms within the shattered skull leapt out and all over the suit's protective visor, leaving the skeleton to simply return to inertness and fall apart into an impotent pile. The mushrooms growing from the ceiling, tables, and the floor all vacated their former position before merging from behind the cash register. The sludge on Allen's visor followed suit, crawling like a turtle across the sun bleached and water damaged tiles.
"It's a Shambling Mound!" Allen yelled before leaping to the side.
Unfortunately for him, he evaded a crashing vine but got trapped in a thick web housing thousands of highly venomous spiders. Rakno used his lightning leash to grab the lawnmower blade and hack the web ensnaring Allen. Several hefty swings proved fruitless as the animated kudzu slowly trudged towards Allen.
"21st Century Digital Boy! Use the registers!" Allen yelled as he violently struggled.
The deep leaf green steel ball of 21st Century Digital Boy hurried towards the dilapidated cash registers before making them levitate and bash the monstrous shrubbery. A ring of the bell within the register proved it successfully hit, but it seemed to have gotten stuck where it hit. A sap leaked from the spot, adhering what remained of the shattered piece of corroded machinery to it and forming an armored patch.
"Alright, I'm... uh.. taking a wild shot in the dark with this one because if I am magic... uh... hopefully this... GOD DAMNIT JUST WORD ALREADY!" Rakno attempted to speak.
"It's alright, man. Take your time." Allen said as he saw innumerable legs of spiders crawl across his suit.
A splatter of grease flung forth from Rakno's hand, covering the front of the Shambling Mound in a flammable jelly of sorts. The grease covered plant slowly advanced, forcing all organic material into itself.
"Might wanna hurry now, man. I'd prefer not to get morphed into a pine cone." Allen ushered.
A frantic rambling was all Rakno said as several small motes of flames catapulted in the vicinity of the Shambling Mound. Only one was successful in hitting and was ineffectual at actually leaving an impact, but did ignite the grease covering the Mound. It suddenly turned into a towering blaze, unleashing large gusts of spores and mold in some sort of attempt to extinguish the fire. Its legs, now barely able to support their own weight, crumpled under the Mound's weight and ash started to replace the spores in the air's toxicity.
"Wow, that worked?" Rakno asked, staring in awe and wonder.
"You did it!" Allen cheered. "Alright, now to... escape before being incinerated."
A final chop through the web sent Allen to the ground and the pair carved through the growths of plant and web that seemed to want to stop them, as if the environment wanted to die with its killers. Football charging through the door and sending it to the gravel parking lot, Rakno and Allen started to vigorously scrape the Burger Count's tendrils off themselves and spend several minutes using a garden hose to wash off the heinous spores and spiders from within.
"I think I'm... uh... keeping this..." Rakno whispered as he set his new blade aside.
"Well, that's some well done beef." Allen jested.
A fire truck soon arrived to fight the roaring inferno of the Burger Count, except given that this is Fort Garisun, the fire truck wasn't an actual fire truck but a green pick up truck with a fire truck's hose in the bed. The burning Shambling Mound ripped down the nearest wall and trudged towards Rakno and Allen as clumps of itself sloughed off and thudded against the gravel, like necrotic flesh separating from an ulcerous growth. Whatever animated the Shambling Mound seemed to give it some sort of fire retardant property, since what sloughed off didn't seem to hinder it much.
"GET BACK GUYS! IT'S ANGRY!" The sole firefighter ordered.
Rakno had little time to react as the immolating plant monster slammed a giant vine into the ground, barely whipping him in the face and sending dust clouds up like a geyser.
"I got this guys!" The firefighter said, running at the Mound with a fireman's axe in hand.
A hefty swing was made and the axe was thoroughly implanted in the Mound's face as the firefighter backed away. Another mighty slam sent the man tumbling back, wind knocked out of him and ribs bruised.
"Alright, spider guy. I gotta do something important." Allen said, fumbling through his pockets.
"Is it a grenade?!" Rakno yelled.
"Even better!" Allen yelled back, a gilded vial full of rusty scrap metal in hand.
A quick ritualistic whisper and pouring the rusty metal out of the vial opened a small hole, a deep lilac in color. A ramshackle machine of rusty metal emerged soon after, seemingly held together by mismatched rivets and long corroded screws. A funnel mouth with hundreds of spinning gears and wings actively spreading small bits of rust with each movement soon appeared.
"Alright, uh... Bob. Go help us fight that plant monster." Allen said as he pulled out a handgun.
Gunfire soon broke out as the rust elemental lunged at the Mound. Chunks of plant matter were crushed by the gears with each bite. The rust elemental got thrown into a tree and broke from the impact.
"Ah shit..." Allen grumbled.
A thunderous boom and a roar from the Mound suddenly broke out as the rust elemental started to get back up. Unbeknownst to all, it soon had a large explosion tear it asunder and send chunks of flaming plant matter into the air to fall like rain. The clang of steel and ceramic made the source known: A Space Marine from Warhammer 40000. But what what it doing here? In Fort Garisun?
"YOUR LIFE IS FORFEIT, XENOS!" The Space Marine shouted.
"Don't you mean, 'Yourethus life-eth-us... uh... is-eth-us forfeitethus... xenos... eth... us?" Rakno asked.
"How'd you get here anyway?" Allen asked.
"THE DAY A XENO- Yourethus lifeethus isethus forfeitethus, xenosethus."
"Ah crap..." Allen and Rakno sighed.
"21st Century Digital Boy." Allen whispered as the literal cannon the Marine held was placed in his face.
The steel armor designed to withstand falling from orbit soon seemed to gain its own will as 21st Century Digital Boy took over. Whatever is inside seemed to struggle with the refusing armor as it yelled.
"Hey, nerdy guy. Don't these things have jetpacks?" Allen asked.
"Uh... yeah?" Rakno responded.
"Go take a nice space flight." Allen ordered. "In a soup can."
The jetpack roared to life as the Marine slowly left the ground, the armor slowly crushing into the size of a soup can all the while.
"I'LLETHUS GETETHUS YOUETHUS FORETHUS THISETHUS!" was the last thing the Space Marine yelled before going into space. And then exploding.
"The fuck was that?" The injured firefighter asked, coughing and clutching his hip.
"Uh... I don't... know..?" Rakno whispered.
A Fort Garisun ambulance, which, in reality is just a rusty pick up truck missing a door and instead of a siren it's an air horn, arrived to the scene. A drunken guy threw the injured person, Rakno and Allen into the bed of the truck with strength equivalent to his speed. The Fort Garison Hospital, which is just a standard suburban house with a detached garage for the ambulance, was what greeted them.
"Don't worry, I'm the best doctor in town. My name... is Doctor Feelgood." Doctor Feelgood dribbled as he drank a bottle of hand sanitizer.
"Is there... any other doctor here?" Allen asked Rakno.
"No... he's been the only doctor since... uh... as long as I've been alive..." Rakno whimpered back.
"Don't worry, you guys. I'm trained. Now, why are you here?" Doctor Feelgood asked, his rainbow suspenders flapping in the wind like a ragged cape.
"I-" Rakno started, before immediately getting interrupted.
"HOLY FUCKBALLS! YOU! GUY WITH HIS LEG ON BACKWARDS! COME WITH ME!" Doctor Feelgood shouted before running to the nearest emergency room, carrying the injured firefighter.
"Uh, we're not even that badly injured. Is this the only place in town for medical anything?" Allen asked in a mixture of curious and culture shock.
"Y-yeah... I... yeah..." Rakno said, barely audible even with the most powerful microphone.
"I can't hear you." Allen pressed further with.
"Yeah..." Rakno sighed, barely able to make eye contact.
"YOU LIVED IN THE COOLEST PLACE EVER! I had the shittiest part of Homestead, Florida to put up with." Allen yelled, crushing Rakno in a bear hug. "Where is everyone else?"
"Probably... urkh... drinking or making moonshine... or both..." Rakno wheezed.
The pair walked out of the hospital after paying the bill with a small piece of pocket lint and a ten dollar bill that neither remembered having on them. The somewhat more developed part of Fort Garisun, where the more important parts of town were put in the only logical idea the shantytown has ever known, had City Hall down the street. City Hall is a repurposed single story office complex where the western half is rented out to an information company to bolster the town's revenue. Around the corner from the unmarked street where City Hall stood, there was a local grocery store that was made from a Walmart after an inebriated construction worker ran a bulldozer through the front half of the store. A monument to all the lost property stood in front of it, made from the collapsed half of the store, the broken lightbulbs were attached in a way where they seemed to have wanderlust through the electrical wiring that they were originally connected to. A competetor to Burger Count, and also the only restuarant in town that doesn't serve alcohol, had its barely functional sign's lights kneel to the sunlight as it claimed a hill as its own, the rough hewn asphalt the only major pavement for miles in town.
"Huh. Seems.. less interesting than I thought. Can you guide me around town?" Allen spoke in a manner rivaling the cultural ignorance of a tourist that didn't research.
"Sure.. I guess..." Rakno sighed as he avoided the potholes in the sidewalk. "There... isn't much. I guess I can invite... uh... you over to my... old... place..."
"Don't be so nervous. I don't bite. Unless you're a dick." Allen tried to reassure with.
The pair walked through the empty town, Allen eagerly greeting everyone he saw with waves and a big, toothy grin. A fair number of the barely under a thousand people within Fort Garisun were too intoxicated to retort, and of the intoxicated a decent percentage were either ghosts, skeletons or zombies.
"Oh! Oh! Spider! Is this place famous for spirits that get spirits drunk?" Allen eagerly asked.
"I... I guess?" Rakno said back, barely able to hide his tone.
"Randy, right? Well... why do you sound like you stepped in something?" Allen asked, unaware of how he came off.
"Rakno but... I... uh... I can't explain." Rakno whispered back.
A local, who is just a robot made from empty beer kegs and fueled by ethanol and methanol, ran down the gravel road, making a pained electrical wail as a charcoal black ooze leaked from their joints. Many people of all walks of life in town stopped their routine to observe the situation.
"Rakno, is that normal?" Allen asked.
"No... Normally Kegbot is... serving... alcohol..." Rakno said back.
Silence befell the town of Fort Garison as the mayor stepped out of his office to intervene. The mayor, a lich simply dubbed Aaron, stood in front of the injured Kegbot, a well maintained Kalashnikov pattern rifle in his hands as his weathered duster jacket blew in the breeze.
"Everyone, get inside! I'll handle this problem!" Aaron the Lich yelled as he aimed down towards where Kegbot ran from.
A few random people stood behind Aaron, either armed with tools for clearing thick brush, simple arcane implements or less advanced firearms. They all had a uniform of a large jacket and wide brimmed hat, seeming to be a local police force or militia.
"Rakno, get behind me." Allen whispered, shockingly down to earth.
A blaring engine broke the tense silence as a heavily modified Ford leapt over the hill and slammed into the earth, dust and gravel getting thrown behind it.
"THOSE GOD DAMNED HOOLIGANS!" Aaron yelled as he and his armed assistants ran towards it.
Allen ran towards the jacked up Ford and ripped the driver side door off as Rakno followed in case he needed help. A repeated car horn signal blared as a stunned ruffian was thrown out and onto the gravel. Gunfire soon followed as a lowly thug shot Allen repeatedly, further escalating the situation. Allen fell out the truck, clutching his stomach as he shot back.
"IMMOL!" A hooligan yelled as a sphere of flame formed in his hands.
"In response!" Rakno retorted, pulling a small playing card out from his sleeve.
The card in question was Counterspell, from Magic: the Gathering. The growing meteor died with a whimper instead of a bang. The magical thug was left at the mercy of several armed and capable people.
"I got him!" A hulking mountain of an orc said, bull rushing the stunned menace.
A brutal football tackle sent the panicked thug crashing to the ground.
Another beat up clunker of a car roared into town like an angry bear, driven by a marauder blindly throwing fireworks out the window. Allen suddenly shifted focus to the firework thrower, as if he saw something nobody else did.
"RAKNO! GET DOWN!" Allen said, painstakingly shoving Rakno aside as something invisble suddenly slashed his metal leg.
"HIT HIM WITH EVERYTHING YOU GOT!" Aaron ordered as he focused his fire on the newest driver.
Something prevented the bullets from actually impacting the car, instead seeming to slowly assimilate them into the car itself.
The driver didn't step out or vault over the front, but instead phased through the car. They were a ghost, so what bullets did actually hit true had no impact as they simply assimilated into the car. No strike from anything physical would actually impact, instead going through. A stranger found that out the hard way as their meat tenderizer went through and hit their own knee.
"THEIR STAND! DON'T GIVE IT METAL!" Allen yelled as he shuffled away.
"Don't you.. don't you use metal for things?" Rakno inquired.
"IT'S PURGE AND HIS THUGS!" Aaron said as he pulled out a tattered book.
"Wait, that... that thing behind him! It's Binge!" A random person shouted.
A sudden boom broke out as a blinding flash tore through the small town. Windows shattered and dogs barked up a storm.
"That was my car, asshole!" Purge snapped. "YOU HIT MY CAR WITH LIGHTNING!"
"Just take your trouble somewhere else!" Aaron yelled as he flipped through the dusty tome.
The ghost and the lich sort of devolved further somehow from frantic fighting to petty squabeling. Purge's goons simply drove back to whence they came, everyone else sort of went back to normal. Brooms swept up the glass and gravel, and the only window company in town collected the glass to melt down into new panes.
"Are they normally like this?" Allen asked, sitting near a doctor.
"Oh... yeah... they've always... argued like this..." Rakno sighed, head hung in shame.
"Anything else that happens here besides... this?" Allen winced as Doctor Feelgood applied some gauze.
"Not... really... I think there was a place with more than one air conditioner a decade ago." Rakno answered. "I think it... uh... it was an auto shop."
"Is there really nothing here? Besides Kegbot? Just the one store?" Allen said, less optimistic.
"I guess I got a toolshed that got repurposed into a little... hangout for friends... uh... wonder if it's still standing." Rakno whispered.
"Yeah! Let's go check it out!" Allen happily cheered, making a sound similar to a failing motorboat engine.
The pair walked on the sidewalk, dodging the discarded cans of piss beer and broken bottles of liqour. Soon after, a small toolshed jutted out of the thick forest growth, in a losing battle against enroaching weeds and vines. Innumerable dents in the walls and roof from all sorts of random debris thrown at it gave it a look rivaling Swiss cheese.
"Have memories of chasing trespassers away with... uh... a golf club. More than once." Rakno flatly stated.
"Why'd they bother you?" Allen asked.
"Played nerd games and it was apparently... uh... evil to have cardboard guys fight Lego people." Rakno said, looking at the little pile of sheet metal.
The rusted hinges whined as the door jammed every other pull to open it. The inside of the shed greeted the pair with open arms. A gentle flick on the lightswitch made a small chain of LED lights glow a soothing red. An office desk fan woke up and went to work.
"How'd you make do with so little space?" Allen asked.
"I sat on the corner of the ceiling." Rakno quietly laughed as he rifled through a cabinet built into the wall.
"Hey, what's this statue guy for?" Allen asked, a rather well used minifigure in hand.
"Oh... that's a statue of a Blightsteel Colossus. Some trading card character... big ass robot..." Rakno trailed off.
"Huh. Found some old faded paper." Allen grinned, obviously enthralled in the adventure.
"Probably just some... uh... instructions to something... I think it was for... uh... making living cards?" Rakno halfheartedly responded. "I gave my friends all my living cards before... leaving this dump of a place."
"Did you make your own cards or just kind of scavenged for them?" Allen asked, looking through small toolboxes full of trading cards.
"Be careful in there, they're kind of valuable." Rakno spoke louder than normal for once.
"What's this... Blood Gift Demon thing?" Allen asked, carefully looking at the sleeved card.
"Oh, uh... the first rare card I got from a pack... Just sentimental value..." Rakno whispered again.
"You have a big collection. How'd you do it?" Allen badgered, looking through the organized cardboard.
"Just pack opening and trading..." Rakno answered in a voice not even a dog could hear.
"YO! THIS SHINY THINGY! I can't read it but how'd you get a card made entirely of gold?!" Allen yelled.
"I don't know... it's not gold though..." Rakno sadly answered.
"Hey, cheer up. You're alright man, just be glad you're not from Arkansas!" Allen jokingly said.
"Yeah, you're right." Rakno laughed a bit, finally cheering up a smidgen.
"Where are your friends anyway?" Allen asked, looking at a pollen covered picture frame.
"They're the only people to say they're going to West Virginia for opprotunity after the coal mines shut down." Rakno shrugged, looking into the distance. "Last I heard from them, anyway."
"Hey, these funny instructions, how does it actually work?" Allen inquired, reading the sticky note carefully.
"No clue. All I know is that... it just works." Rakno yawned.
"Well, we can try it with this... Psy... Er... Of... In... San... In a tree." Allen grinned, blissfully holding a red glitter pen.
"Careful with that... I just got it." Rakno agreed with.
A single card was set in the middle of the "altar", which was actually just a lecturn with half of it eaten away by termites and burrowing ants. A very simple rite of wiping down a table with a bleach wipe was done at the altar. The final step was drawing spooky scary blood eyes that were black and hyperrealistic over where the actual eyes originally were, ending with adding ".EXE" at the end of the name was finished. Nothing really interesting happened. No tremors, no shaking, no bursts of power. Just a bird chirping.
"Did it work?" Allen asked, looking at the altered card with a mix of optimism and impatience.
"Might just be tired." Rakno shrugged.
"Oh yeah! Yeah! Where's a coffeemaker?" Allen chirped, looking around.
"I got... Orange Yak. Shitty off brand energy drink." Rakno sighed again.
Allen looked in the small fishing cooler, which wasn't a cooler anymore but more of a lukewarmer due to the heat and humidity. A dented and faded can with the only visible letters being "Ge Yak" was all that was in there besides water.
"Do I.. uh... pour it on there or leave it as an offering?" Allen asked, holding it upside down.
"Just leave it." Rakno yawned once more.
A few streetlamps lit the gravel road and the few jutting off the main street. The moon hung high as billions of stars lit what the disfunctional bulbs couldn't, all from hundreds to millions of lightyears away. Rakno and Allen were the only people outside at this hour. The few businesses were closed by four, the bars an hour later, and the only noises besides gravel shifting were cicadas, owls, coyotes and the occassional gust of wind. Fireflies lit up near a sign for one of the three neighborhoods in town, illuminated by a streetlamp powered by a car battery.
"This is my... old circle. Mothwood. I had a similar shed here but moved it so people wouldn't snoop." Rakno reminisced, staring at the kempt row of simple houses.
"What keeps this place running, anyway?" Allen asked, unaware of his volume.
"Oh, charcoal power plant... and a liqour power plant as well..." Rakno whispered.
"That's some Tennessee shit right there, Randy. Half of Nashville's electricity comes from burning moonshine." Allen chuckled.
"Well, we're the Tennessee that mom said we have at home. Think of Fort Garisun like that. Minus the music and more backwoods." Rakno said, looking for his old home.
A very tidy front lawn greeted Rakno and Allen, not a weed nor vine in sight. A crow that sat on the porch perched itself on Rakno's shoulder, rubbing its face on his neck.A sound similar to a truck's ignition failing greeted them.
"This is Eyepecker. He's a total sweetheart." Rakno grinned.
"Gwah." Eyepecker greeted. "k-chkchk gwah."
"Can he say anything else?" Allen asked, holding his finger out as a gesture of goodwill.
"Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!" Eyepecker called.
"He's a nerdy bird!" Allen grinned. "Can he read something else?"
"Gwah kr-chkchk gweah." Eyepicker verbosely put it.
"That must've been Of Mice and Men." Allen yawned.
A knocking on the door woke everyone in Mothwood up, considering the fact a knock on the door at this time of night was never often a good sign.
"Ah hell... better just be my boy comin' over drunk..." A groggy groan behind the door said.
The porch light slowly lit up, like it was struggling to wake up as well. The thin door moaned as it was opening. The sound of an older model of air conditioner unit was the loudest noise in the vicinity. The pleasant smell of a sweet potato pie and brown sugar made itself known with gravitas and other flowery purple prose words.
"Oh, Rakno! Mah boy! You arrived... at... I think one in tha mornin' or... eh, come in." The groaner said.
Eyepecker interjected, "Wa wa wa wa wah, gwer chk-a chk-a!"
A opossum emerged from a small pile of clothes in the laundry room, the little tag on its collar jingling merrily, much like it's celebrating Christmas. It climbed onto Rakno's thorax and eventually onto his shoulder without Eyepecker.
"What a cute little hairball! What'd you name him?" Allen asked, offering a little treat to the opossum.
"Oh, I just call him Howard." Rakno answered. "Also, that's my dad."
"I never knew you were the son of a opossum!" Allen gleefully grinned, scratching Howard's chin gently.
"Yes, I, a drider, am actually a opossum in disguise!" Rakno's dad laughed a bit. "Oh, how mah boy would befriend random animals he finds..."
"He's not a druid, so he took my job." Allen jokingly said, obviously joking face glaring like a neon sign in pitch black. "Next thing I know, a bear will walk through the door!"
Another animal does walk through the door, but it wasn't a bear. Instead it was a humble cat. A rather large bobcat, but a cat nonetheless.
"Anything else I haven't seen?" Allen asked, eager.
"The rest of the house." Rakno's father answered, smiling at the stupid joke.
"Shit, you got a point." Allen laughed.
The bobcat sprawled out on the ground, revealing its belly to Rakno and his father. Gentle purring intesified.
"Don't really have a guest room.. uh... there's a couch..." Rakno quietly said.
Silence soon returned and kept its grip on the town of Fort Garisun until sun rose, and a rooster croaked. The soothing smell of roasted coffee filled the simple house, along with the sound of sizzling bacon and corn beef hash.
"Oh, mornin'. Never told ya mah name. Just call me Frank." Frank said, more focused on cooking.
"Oh, uh... heard food." Allen sheepishly said.
"Ah, figured." Frank quietly answered.
Howard the Opossum decided Allen's head was the best spot to rub up against. The peaceful tranquility was a nice change of pace for Allen. The local armadillos gently scratched the door, as if they wanted respite from the chill. A coyote yawned as it sat at the door as well.
"You have pet armadillos and a coyote?" Allen asked.
"Just the one armadillo and the coyote. I usually leave the animals alone. Rakno would spend most of his time just relaxing with them. Or playing his games. Or playing his card game with the animals." Frank explained.
"Gwah kth kth!" Eyepecker affirmed. "Gwah!"
"Alright alright! I'm up! Pawzzathoth! Relax!" Rakno yelled, laughing a bit.
Pawzzathoth, the bobcat in question, proudly marched out with its head held high. Each step was filled with confidence. Pawzzathoth ceased its march to attack the most vile foe it had ever encountered: an empty tissue box. A knocking at the door caught all off gaurd.
"Good morning, sire! I am Bartlesby von Crazyschmidtt, Sire of Goofyness!" A yell said. "I woke up in a beat up toolshed and I'm planning on sharing the glory of cheese!"
"Oh fuck, that thing worked?!" Rakno and Allen shouted.
"Of course! How do you think I got such a silly, exasperated British snobby accent?" Bartlesby said, tipping his monocle and wiping his top hat on his suit. "Harrumph! Bodacious!"
"Uh, Bartlesby... why do you have a life jacket on?" Rakno asked, peering through the door window.
"Simple! It's to save my life, good sire!" Bartlesby harrumphed! "Especially from water based attacks!"
"Uh... fair enough.." Rakno shrugged, allowing Bartlesby to enter.
"Made another living card friend?" Frank asked, interested.
"Yeah..." Rakno quietly answered.
"Well! I know a place we can go for adventure! Tally ho!" Bartlesby proclaimed before eating a paper plate.
"What... actually are you?" Allen asked nervously.
"Good sire! I am the creature depicted in the art of the Magic the Gathering card known as Sire of Insanity! I just... kind of woke up after seeing a spider man and reptile man walked away. Short story long, I am Bartlesby von Crazyschmidtt! Your local, and only, friendly demon who can pull off such a nice collection of attire. And other things, like having silverware made of silver!" Bartlesby answered proudly, his horns nearly scraping against the ceiling.
Bartlesby von Crazyschmidtt, in all of eccentricity, towered at nearly ten feet tall. He'd be far more intimidating if he weren't curiously looking at a sparrow perching at a birdfeeder.
"Well, dad... hate to leave so soon but..." Rakno started.
"No, I understand. You always wanted adventure in life. Just be sure to call every so often." Frank finished.
"Group hug!" Bartlesby declared before crushing Allen, Rakno and Frank in what is better described as vice grip of a grapple instead of a hug. "I don't know how I know, I just do!"
"Hurk! That's lovely..." Rakno wheezed.
Bartlesby let go and tipped his dapper hat, before loudly saying, "Onward, my great allies! We're off for adventure!"
"Before you go... make sure mah boi is alright." Frank told Allen.
"You got it." Allen whispered back.
Bartlesby, Rakno and Allen left the town of Fort Garisun and not even five minutes later they found a Walmart. Upon entering, they were greeted with the amazingly cheerful warehouse concrete white ceiling, the concrete grey walls. The beige tiles sourced directly from a second rate pool manufacturer. A man wearing a trash bag as a hat. A dragon man in full chainmail armor with a life raft around his waist. The only cash register in the entire store on fire. For them, the day Walmart graced their town was the most important day of their lives. But for Walmart, it was Tuesday.
"This is the closest to home I've been in a while!" Allen, back to his usual airheaded self, cheered.
"Where are you from, anyway?" Bartlesby asked, using a stop sign as a fancy cane.
"The lovely shithole known as Florida! Where you can see someone dead lift an alligator in a parking lot and it's just a normal day." Allen bellowed, excited someone is eager to talk with him.
"Sounds like a lovely place! I... I kind of wonder where I'm from." Bartlesby continued. "I just woke up like this, good sir!"
"I see..." Rakno whispered.
"GOOD HEAVENS! FIFTEEN DOLLARS FOR A SINGLE WEDGE OF CHEESE?!" Bartlesby proclaimed, his monocle flying off his face.
"Never had goat cheese before?" Allen asked, eager to try some.
"I never had eaten before! Except those funny circles earlier." Bartlesby answered.
Suddenly, a glorious purple cracked the wall. It tore the wall asunder, revealing sand as far as the eye can see on the other side. Cacti dotted the sandscape, and a gust of wind sent sand all over the floor. The janitor was stark raving mad, for he hated sand because it's rough, coarse and irritating. And it gets everywhere.
"Bartlesby, don't eat the yellow sand. It's not lemon flavored." Allen cautioned.
"Hey, before we actually enter, shouldn't we... uh... get stuff?" Rakno asked. "Like water?"
"What kind of spider half is that? Because if it's a desert spider, we'll do just fine." Bartlesby inquired.
"Oh.. it's a Hawaiian smily spider..." Rakno sheepishly said.
"Oh yeah, don't they need incredibly high humidity? At least the high temperature is covered." Allen asked. "I know they're from Hawaii so surely they need constant water."
"I'm not sure. Let's just play it safe and go with yes." Rakno asnwered with a shrug.
"Wait, we need something big to carry all the stuff with us! Like... uh... whatever that lizard guy uses." Bartlesby realized.
Allen gave a goofy grin, running to the parking lot like a bat out of hell. A giant crash and squeal of tires suddenly filled the air as concrete dust violently infiltrated people's lungs.
"You mean like this?" Allen yelled from the driver side seat of his giant ass Kaiser.
"Yes! Yes!" Bartleby retorted as he grabbed a bunch of random food cans from the nearest shopping cart and threw them into the back.
This rather sudden shopping trip was fruitful in the few minutes that it happened before the misguided spider and his friends went through the purple crack and into the vast wasteland of sand and cacti.
The heat of the sun was somewhat mitigated by the lack of humidity, making a hundred twenty degree heat feel more like it was about one hundred Fahrenheit. The vast sea of sand stretched for as far as the eye could see, the horizon shimmering from the radiating heat. Rakno, currently relaxing in the bed of the Kaiser, squints and looks off in the distance. Seems that dust cloud is just a roadrunner.
There wasn't a road in sight for hours. Just the occassional turn to avoid a cactus, an animal or a large mound of sand. The only real difference in the ground that was felt was the occassional small dune a couple of inches in height at the largest. The wind didn't howl but merely whimpered in the brutal heat of the sun.
A cactus pygmy owl poked its head out from a saquaro cactus as the Kaiser pulled to a stop. A desert cottontail sat in Bartlesby's large hand in a manner commonly called "loafing", enjoying the shade provided by the other large hand.
"Such a gorgeous little rabbit." Bartlesby whispered.
The sound of sand shifting got everyone's attention as a large scaled figure slowly approached. A noticable limp was offset with a cane of egg white coloration.
"You fellers lost?" The figure said, a hand giving shade to its eye or eyes.
"We just got here. No idea where we are, so yeah." Allen answered, speaking for the group.
"Just another few miles and you'll hit a ghost town." The figure spoke before slowly trudging back to whence it came from.
"How did you know we were hear?" Bartelsby asked, more confused than anything.
"Fellers, you guys have a loud noise maker. I heard it across the dried river a hundred odd miles north." The figure answered without looking back.
The fetid smell of decomposition overpowered the scent of sand and the occasional pleasant smell of prickly pear as a mummy shuffled past. The thick linens somewhat disheveled due to exposure to the sun exposed purple decay. A small herd of goats and sheep followed the mummy, small flecks of grasses falling from their faces. Small gatherings of black desert beetles gave clearance to the shepherd and his flock.
"Excuse me, do you have directions to the nearest town?" Allen asked, covering his nose.
The shepherd pointed to the north and wheezed a large volume of sand before whispering a word in a voice akin to a chainsmoker of several decades: Drypatch.
Allen gave a thumbs up and a simple thanks before starting the Kaiser again, giving the shepherd clearance. Eventually arriving in the ghost town of Drypatch, the group anticipated a derelict and abandoned patch of buildings, but were surprised to see it well maintained and populated entirely by ghosts.
"Seems ghost town was a more literal meaning." Rakno shrugged as he peered out the side.
A random individual saw the Kaiser and mistook it for a trade caravan, cheering "TRADERS! WE FINALLY GOT SOME COOL STUFF TO BUY!"
"No, just people who're lost. Unless you wanna buy an empty soup can." Allen responded.
"SHIT! I'LL BUY THAT FOR A DOLLAR!" the cheerer proclaimed.
"Tell that guy to watch for the giant crater in the middle of town!" another voice yelled.
"What caused that crater?" Bartlesby asked. "Seems like something just fell out of the sky."
"Well, someone wanted rain but didn't want the thing to last too long so they made an entire cloud just fall to the ground in one giant rain drop." A ghost answered. "Good news is we don't have to worry about when the next rain is."
A heavily rusted and sunbleached wrought iron sign in the front of the massive Drypatch Crater was illegible and leaning over like a dizzy panda bear. Bullet holes riddled the rusted flat rectangle, giving it a facsimile of Swiss cheese with a side order of tetanus.
"What was that sign originally?" Rakno asked with a hint of curiosity.
The ghost of a sheriff, wearing a lapel pin equally ghostly and branded with a greivous mispelling of "Shireff", answered abruptly with "Population sign."
"RAKNO! I FINALLY CAUGHT UP WITH YOUR ELUSIVE SELF! YOUR VOLUMINOUS WAYS END HERE!" A familiar and annoying voice broke the peace with, misusing words like always.
"Ah shit. Here we go again." Rakno sighed as he turned around to see Floyd.
Floyd stepped out of his rusted car, the driver side door falling off in a very befitting manner of slowly falling off its hinges instead of flying off. Naturally, it fell on Floyd and got him in the ankle.
"This is the guy who hates you?" Bartlesby prodded. "He seems... wimpy."
"Yeah. He's... uh... not going to quit." Rakno answered. "It's been... uh... I think a decade?"
"YOUR CHAOTIC ANTICS WILL CEASE HERE OW, YOU FETID BEAST! I'LL BRING ORDER TO YOUR FABLES!" Floyd yelped, clutching his ankle.
"Hold on, I think I can beat him without violence." Rakno interjected, putting his hand on Bartlesby's shoulder. "There once..."
Floyd clutched his head and collapsed from two simple words. Simply unable to fathom a story without his influence, the insufferable jackass was left writing whilst foaming at the mouth.
"Wow, that worked?" Allen asked, totally dumbfounded. "That... That was way easier than I expected. His Stand.. uh..."
"Yeah... He's... he's a loser." Rakno sighed before yawning.
Floyd simply babbled from the sheer rage burning in him, for being thwarted by a careless and chaotic bastard and treated like an insignificant cricket. This slight won't be ignored! HOW DARE THAT WRETCH OF AN ARACHNID YAWN IN HIS VASCULAR PRESENCE!
"What's his problem, spider and lizard?" Bartlesby asked quietly, almost a whisper.
"He's always hated things not being his way." Rakno whispered back. "He broke down in a fit once because I brought my own pen."
A pitiful sigh was all that Floyd heard as his adversaries walked away, like he was a piece of trash on the ground.
The blistering sand gave no solace even in the setting sun, as the sand absorbed the unrelenting heat. The Jeep slowly advanced over the dunes and through the small troughs in the earth, eventually leading them to a paved road. Before even getting on the asphalt, Allen stopped and poured a cap full of water onto it almost as a test to see if it was safe to drive upon. The water didn't even reach the road before evaporating, a very obvious sign that the rubber of the tires wouldn't last long.
"Even the snakes aren't napping on this..." Allen muttered to himself.
Under the cover of night, the three eventually arrived at Deadwater. Hulking scyscrapers made from sandstone and bone meal jutted the landscape. The musk of lead and gunpowder processing clung to the air, fighting for dominance along the smell of brass and steel works.
What are you still doing here? There's nothing left. There's no more story here. Go read Jeff the Killer for the fiftieth time. Curtains are down, lights are off. Story's over.
Category:Trollpasta
Category:DIALOGUE!
Category:MOTHER OF FUCK THIS PAGE IS LONG LIKE MY PAINIS
Category:Well, that was anticlimactic.
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck