Chapter Text
two
Believe it or not, this isn’t Stormz’s first time in custody. Once when he was sixteen, he was caught shoplifting from a bakery. It was a petty theft, and Stormz was released after four hours.
This… this is different. Stormz has spent the past however long–he’s only counted sixteen hours–sitting underground in the cold. No window, no skylight, no light, nothing.
Just a rocky cell, a hard metal ‘bed,’ a broken toilet, and a creaky sink. Selene does seem to be poor, or they are just extremely unethical and cannot be asked to fix all of these issues. Did an infuriated inmate punch the toilet or something? Why can’t it fucking flush?
Stormz has just sat here for the past few hours. He hasn’t been able to sleep for the past three hours, and he’s bitchy. They took his daggers and everything–the prince might be able to identify Silva’s handwriting too. When he escapes, he’s gonna need Silva to start writing in cursive for the next map to avoid Selene sending someone after Silva for his involvement.
Stormz suddenly hears the door to the cell open; the prince walks in, holding a rusty lantern. Stormz has the strong urge to use the rest of his breath to attempt to blow out the prince’s light. A tough internal fight, if he were to be completely honest.
“Greetings, your majesty,” Stormz starts sarcastically, trying to make himself look as disinterested as possible.
The prince seems to find his words funny, because he laughs. “Your majesty? I’m not king yet.”
The prince stands surprisingly close to the bars of the cell. If Stormz really wanted to, he could do the prince’s head in as long as the prince isn’t expecting it. But if yesterday’s (it was probably yesterday) short kerfuffle means anything, the prince isn’t as predictable as Stormz thought.
“Why–what do you want?” Stormz asks; he doesn’t want to seem too annoyed. He can’t let the prince get under his skin. His mentality is the strongest thing he has right now.
The prince is apparently very giggly, because he wheezes at him: “If you want me to be entirely honest, I just wanted to see if anyone from Helios has tried to break you out yet. I mean, Silva’s been down here before, and this cell is notoriously the easiest to break out of.”
The prince is here to take the piss out of him. Why would he tell Stormz this, though? Is he lying to try and get Stormz to try to break out of here? Stormz was already going to escape, regardless of whether the prince came to tell him this.
That also confirms that the prince knows about Silva’s involvement.
“Oh,” Stormz turns his head to see the prince smiling at him–creep, “I thought you just loved our conversation yesterday that much…”
The prince stays quiet for a few seconds before responding: “Why are you a pick me?”
Stormz has to hold his chuckle.
“Can you go? Do you seriously have nothing else to do? Get a life, dude.” Stormz stands up and walks over to the bars of the cell; the prince doesn’t back away at all. In fact, Prince Mugm takes a small step forward, one hand holding a bar.
“No, no, no… I have nowhere to be. We can spend every hour of every day down here until someone comes to save you,” The prince declares smugly, bitch.
Is he trying to get a read on Stormz? What’s the point in wasting his time doing this?
“What makes you so sure that someone’s gonna come ‘save’ me?” Stormz isn’t sure there will be a rescue squad any time soon. Helios rescue services tend to be… slow. Especially since Stormz was on a secret, confidential mission, it cannot go public.
Prince Mugm finally lets go of the bar to leisurely walk around in circles as he speaks: “That’s how you people are. Helios loves to do charity work and act all heroic and shit.”
The way he says it—not what he says, just the tone—is with complete and utter disgust. ‘You people’ and generalizing all of Helios is to be expected, now that Stormz ponders on it. Prince Mugm is a prince; he’s bound to have a superiority complex.
“Ohhh~ I’m sure my non-existent family will come save me,” Stormz watches as the prince’s eyes widen as he laughs. If Stormz is being executed soon, he doubts the prince would come down here to entertain him at all. His life is probably safe for the near future.
“Okay bro, no need to give me a sob story. I’m not letting you out,” Prince Mugm places his lantern down on the ground and crouches down. He sits cross-legged on the floor, placing his elbows on his knees. Gross, the floor is probably dusty as fuck, and he’s wearing his fancy-ass prince attire.
“It’s not a sob story, it’s just how life is—weren’t you also an orphan?” Stormz blinks, amused, as Prince Mugm has a visceral reaction to that.
The prince clears his throat; “My father is alive.” So the prince has daddy issues; awesome to know. How is this going to aid in Stormz’s escape?
“And yet you were at an orphanage, so what’s your point?” Stormz doesn’t care enough to learn this guy’s entire backstory. He’s just saying shit to bring up a stir. Maybe the prince will be so mad he’ll go to bed tonight like a normal person to calm down and give Stormz the chance to escape.
The prince shrugs, “I was just curious as to why someone like you would help the King.” He looks up at Stormz from where he’s sitting. Stormz decides to suck it up and sit on the gross, cold, hard ground himself. Directly across from the prince, only separated by decrepit metal bars.
“Someone ‘like me?’” Interesting. Very interesting.
“Yeah, why’re you helping the king?” The prince brushes past Stormz’s questioning with zero acknowledgement. Someone like you.
“Because he’s my king. I’m from Helios,” Stormz thinks it’s obvious. He is loyal to his country.
“Why though? It’s not like the king cares about you. Why would you help someone who doesn’t give a fuck about you?” The prince sounds… oddly genuine.
Maybe he doesn’t go outside much, doesn’t have that many friends, and he’s that disconnected from the lives of the majority of people. It’s laughable. Stormz is quick to justify himself, not because he’s scared of the prince, but it’d be his pleasure to connect this grown-ass man back to reality: “Because I need money.”
The prince hums, “So if I hypothetically paid you more, you would fuck off the next time a ship sinks?”
“You’re not doing that,” Stormz deadpans. He’s a loose end; there’s no way they’re letting him go. Let alone paying him money.
Prince Mugm giggles again, a wide smile and a callous glint in his eyes; “Hypothetical, remember?”
“Hypothetically… I wouldn’t because you’re an asshole,” Stormz understands what he’s dealing with. He’s essentially playing with fire and aggravating someone who can end his life in this very cell. Yet, he doesn’t back down.
The prince puts his hands up like he’s being arrested, “Whoa, whoa, whoa… what’d I do?” This guy is so fucking annoying, oh my god.
“Wait, Stormz—what’d I do?”
“Sir Stormz,” Stormz replies; at least get his honorifics correct if you’re trying to get a rise out of him. That’s the basics of respect amongst the rich, and he knows that Prince Mugm knows this. Prince Mugm is royalty; he’s more than familiar with the manners of the elite.
“Stormz~ What’d I do?” This bitch.
“I don’t know, Mugm. Maybe I’d like you more but your stupid ass prison cell doesn’t even have a window for sunlight. I’m pissed, dude.” Stormz doesn’t notice he calls the prince by only his first name until afterwards. Mugm doesn’t seem to mind all that much.
“Do you need to photosynthesize or something? The sunlight doesn’t even reach the castle until midday and leaves by four.” Mugm stifles his laughter, bringing a hand up to cover his smile.
Stormz doesn’t dignify him with a response. He just looks ahead. Blank. Empty.
“Anyway, Stormz, what do you eat? I’ve never had to supervise a Helian prisoner before,” Mugm’s speaking like they’re friends. However, his eyes, the way he’s looking at Stormz, suggest the direct opposite. They’re predatory, dangerous.
“Oh, does your prison serve food?”
“Yah, of course. But Wy—one of my advisors said that you guys don’t eat much murctin and that’s kinda a staple here.” Murctin? No disrespect to Selene, but that sounds like a disease or skin condition.
“I have no allergies,” Stormz is lactose intolerant, but he’s 99% sure if he shared that information it’d be used against him. Instead of blatant torture, they just spike his food with dairy, and he has to spend his days sitting in a cell with diarrhea in an unflushable toilet.
Mugm hums in acknowledgement, “Okay… I’ll let the kitchen know.”
“Why are you doing this?” It’d be easier for them to kill him. They have decent incentive too; Stormz was caught trying to assassinate the heir to the throne. Surely that's enough for an execution. It’s odd to Stormz that Mugm’s now discussing meal options when it’d be so much more worth it for them for him to die.
“Do what?”
“This: Visiting me, asking me about food, not killing me. Why bother?” Stormz wants answers. He came on this mission not expecting to die, but he’s always prepared for it to be a possibility. He won’t lie and say that he expected to have a talk with the prince like this. He expected that, between him and Mugm, one of them would’ve died last night. Neither of them has.
“I can’t do things for fun now?” Bullshit. Mugm is trying to spoonfeed him straight bullshit.
Stormz scoffs at the lazy-ass excuse; Did he actually think Stormz would believe him? “What’s the point in lying to me? You have me here. I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to–and trust me, I do.” Stormz watches as his words go in one ear and out the other within the same breath.
Mugm tilts his head, feigning confusion: “No, no, no… I just sometimes like spending time with people my age. Not many of those in the castle.”
From what Silva said about Mugm’s paranoia and trust issues, Stormz highly doubts he’s come to seek companionship. On the off chance he is, Mugm is—objectively—weird as fuck for ‘catching’ friends and capturing them in a tiny cell so they can’t leave him. Psychologically, that’s got to mean something.
“You are the saddest man I’ve ever seen,” Stormz isn’t lying; the fact that Mugm has allegedly resorted to catching ‘friends’ like they’re rare butterflies is beyond sad.
Mugm pulls his knees to his chest. “Am I now? Really? You should’ve seen Silva when his father passed.”
Silva’s father was executed for getting caught sneaking confidential internal information out of Selene to Helios. It essentially disgraced Silva and forced the guy to either live destitute for the rest of his life or escape. Silva (thankfully) chose the latter.
“Just tears upon tears. He wouldn’t even speak, like bro, if you’re gonna cry at least tell me why. What’s so sad, dude? I wanna cry too.” Mugm has to either be a great liar, a sociopath, or both.
“His Dad died, and you’re ‘wondering why he’s sad?’ Are you fucking stupid? Gee, I really do wonder why someone would be upset that their Dad died.” Stormz doesn’t know Mugm’s Mom’s situation. But given that he said that his father is alive when being called an orphan, his mother likely isn’t in the picture.
“Me too.” Mugm has this shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. Fucker.
Suddenly, there is a knock on the door. Mugm stands up swiftly to open it, patting the back of his pants to rid it of any dust.
“Your royal highness, Her Majesty requests your presence at your earliest convenience.” A guard walks in, sword sheathed, helmet on. His face is hidden away, anonymous if not for his voice.
Mugm stares at the guard for a few moments. “Okay… would you care to join me?” Is he asking the guard that? Weirdo.
The guard’s armour clanks as he declines the offer; “I’m afraid the General has me stationed here until they get another.”
Something akin to disappointment flashes on the prince’s face before he quickly leaves. Mugm leaves his lantern on the floor where he sat.
After the prince leaves, Stormz honestly feels a little awkward now. The guard doesn’t speak, and he’s unsure if he’s supposed to be the one to spark conversation. He should, right? It’s boring as fuck in here; talking to someone could remedy that… “Do you have any pets?”
He stands to walk over to his sink to pretend to wash his hands or something. “Hello? I’m talking to you, the guard; it’d be rude if you left me on hold.” He accompanies this with a short laugh.
The guard reaches in his satchel and pulls out a dark cloth. He fans it out a bit before scrunching it up, throwing it on the ground, and kicking it to the door. The sliver of light coming from outside this room has now been blocked by the cloth.
Is this a strange form of psychological torture? He’s gonna put out the lantern next, and Stormz is going to know nothing but darkness for the rest of his life.
The guard walks up to the cell and takes off his helmet. It reveals another strangely young face around Stormz’s age, gray hair, and a scar around his neck like a permanent choker. The guard is careful not to make too much sound with his metal helmet, “Sorry, I just wanted to muffle the sounds as much as I can.”
“What the fuck—?!” Stormz can feel his stomach clench as he starts wheezing; What the fuck is happening?
“Hey! Shh!” The guard whisper-shouts at Stormz to stop, whipping his head around to see if anyone is going to turn the doorknob.
Stormz quiets himself to the best of his ability, walking to the bars to talk to the guard face to face.
“Hi, so… I’m gonna help you get out of here because otherwise you’re never gonna leave. The way Mugm fights is heavenly, and there’s no way you’re ever gonna win without some insider help—” What is this dude on about? What happened to ‘my name is?’ What happened to pleasantries, and why’s he glazing the prince?
“Who are you?” Stormz feels that this is an appropriate question to ask.
“I’m one of Mugm’s… well, I used to be one of his personal bodyguards. But that life gets boring, y’know? So I quit a few weeks ago. Not much to do… plus, I don’t understand why he even has bodyguards. He grew up fighting for arena prize money; he beats me!” The guard (bodyguard?) seems to get incredibly immersed in whispering about Mugm’s skills.
“What’s your name?”
“Nezoshoki. Don’t worry, I already know your name; he talked about you and your attempt this morning.” Nezoshoki sets his helmet on the ground gently, so as not to make any sound and so it doesn’t roll off.
Mugm is paranoid. Silva said so. Why would the prince keep someone like this around? “Why… What are you doing? Why?”
Nezoshoki stops smiling as wide, his lips pressed together in a thin line, “I want to leave Selene. And when I do, I want to bring Mugm with me.” Mugm. It’s only now that Stormz realizes that Nezoshoki refers to the prince by first name when he’s not present.
“You seem like my best bet. Mugm said that you’re alright at fighting, which means you’re probably pretty good,” Nezoshoki giggles, placing his hands on his hips. Nezoshoki is different from the other Selenian people Stormz has met so far, so he presents himself more like Silva. He seems lighthearted; his shoulders are relaxed, and his demeanor isn’t hardened.
There is a decent chance that Nezoshoki is lying to him just to see what Stormz would do if given the opportunity. If Stormz were to think about this some more, the situation seems to be awfully convenient. However, Stormz is almost 100% certain that if he doesn’t take this chance, he’ll just die here, since he doubts the King will send anyone else into enemy territory to rescue him.
Stormz grabs onto the bars: “So, what’s the escape plan?”
He makes it back to Helios in one piece, surprisingly. Sure, he is hungry, dirty, dizzy, thirsty, and tired, but the important part is that he’s alive.
When he escaped, he had asked Nezo to come with him, yet the guard refused. Nezo cited that he has a little brother at home that he can’t leave. He needs Stormz to come back for him and his family. Stormz will, after he kills Mugm, and he told Nezo that.
Stormz is quickly picked up by one of the palace’s carriages and is dropped off before the King. His shiny blond hair reflects the sunlight from the massive skylights; it appears white to Stormz.
“Your Majesty,” He kneels before his king, well aware that his voice sounds akin to scraping gravel. His hair is a mess, his body is badly bandaged, and his clothes are shredded. Nothing about him is presentable.
The King steps closer to him, his footsteps light, barely making a sound. Almost as if he’s not actually walking but instead levitating over. The tip of his scepter lands on Stormz’s shoulder gently. “Are you alright?” The king nudges his chin up to make eye contact.
Stormz’s mouth goes dry as he’s acutely aware of the people around them and how strange this interaction feels. “Yeah… I’ll be fine. I might need a bit to properly heal my stomach, sir.” Wrong thing to say, apparently, because the king frowns deeply.
Does he expect Stormz to be up and running within a day of getting stabbed? Even with the best healers (which he did not have access to in the jail cell, by the way), it’d take a few days. From what Stormz knows about healing and first aid, he estimates the healing process to take two to three whole weeks.
“Your mission is for the end of this month, just as a reminder.” So the king isn’t willing to make a compromise. Or just pause this timer of his. Okay… Okay. Stormz will have a week or two after this healing period to murder Mugm. It’s still doable.
“You are dismissed, rest easy,” The king shoos him off, Stormz’s exit is quiet.
“Weirdly, he visited you like that,” Silva confirms after Stormz is done telling his story. They’re sitting in a high-end diner, graciously paid for by Quakitus’s parents.
“The prince sounds really, really weird though. So maybe it is in character,” Q supplies, popping one of the spicy korthyns they ordered in his mouth.
“Why didn’t you tell me he’s a fighter? I was expecting to wipe him out!” Stormz complains to Silva, who furrows his eyebrows.
Silva apologizes before continuing: “The prince is still doing that? He told me he’s giving up fighting to focus on royal duties. I thought he hadn’t been in an arena since he was twelve.” Silva also anticipated that Mugm would be asleep, so really, the fact that Mugm was awake at all was bound to ruin the mission.
“He’s been to arenas?” Q questions, curious. Royalty in Helios would never get their hands dirty like that. So many things can go wrong in a fight; it’d be too much of a risk. What would the public say about a prince whose face is littered with ugly, raw scars? It’d be too much.
Silva shrugs, “He never really talked about it, especially because it’s technically illegal in Selene for someone under the age of sixteen to attend those. He would’ve gotten in trouble if Her Majesty found out.” According to the articles Stormz read, Mugm and the Queen have a close relationship.
On all accounts, the Queen has stated that Mugm is the only person who can inherit the throne. It does make Stormz wonder what she’ll do when Mugm is killed.
“Did you know Nezoshoki?” Stormz watches as Silva is slightly taken aback by the name; he definitely recognizes Nezo.
Nezo hadn’t mentioned Silva at all, and Stormz didn’t want to ask Nezo about Silva, just in case Nezo is actually a spy and still loyal to Mugm. He doesn’t want to officially tie Silva to him. He was very passive when speaking about Silvaasaur with Mugm in the cell.
Silva nods, “He was just Mugm’s personal bodyguard; what about him?”
Stormz intentionally left Nezo’s name out of his original story because he wanted to see if Silva knew anything else about Nezo. Alas, Silva’s not handing him any easy information. “He’s the guard that helped me out.” Stormz notices how Silva is astounded by this news.
“Really? Nezo always… Nezo was closer to the prince than I was. I can’t imagine him… I don’t get it,” Silva admits, dumbfounded that Nezo would do such a thing.
What if Nezo’s still loyal to Selene and that was all fake? It’s possible, but… what type of game is Mugm playing? Why would he capture Stormz only to intentionally let him out again within a day? It seems counterintuitive, but why else would Nezo help him?
Without Nezo’s help, he wouldn’t have made it out of there himself (at least, as fast as he did). It’s not like Mugm gained any useful information out of it either.
“Me neither.”
It takes Stormz three weeks before he makes his way back to the Selenian castle. You’d think that they would add more security to the wall and the castle gardens after the assassination attempt on the heir, but you would be sorely mistaken. There are no additional guards or anything.
In fact, standing on the top of the wall, Stormz can see Mugm already. The prince is standing in the gardens, practicing archery in the darkness.
The moonlight is actually pretty strong in the inner castle; it reflects well on the cathedral-like crystal towers. He stops to admire it for a moment before using his new trusty skyhook to grapple himself to the ground, decently far away from Mugm to avoid getting seen before he can kill the man.
Stormz brought a plethora of tools tonight on the off chance Mugm’s not asleep again. Lo and behold, he isn’t. One of the tools he has is a poison-lined garrote: A thin metal cord with tiny barbs that pierce skin, allowing for the poison to be injected directly into the bloodstream. When he sneaks up on Mugm to strangle the guy, it’ll either poison him, or he will die due to blood and oxygen loss.
Truly, a foolproof weapon, and Stormz doesn’t take himself for a fool.
He is very careful when approaching Mugm, silent with every step and mapping out where any bodyguards would be. He doesn’t see any, even amongst the far trees in the garden and around the corners. Mugm seems to be alone.
It’s also helpful that he has a dark cloak; it makes his figure less human and therefore less recognizable. To Mugm, he can be a person, or he can just be the shadows formed by the trees’ swaying branches.
Stormz is around sixteen feet away when he decides to book it; he whispers, “Fuck it.” Yes, Mugm is a fighter. Yes, he did beat Stormz on his first attempt. But even Goliath didn’t have eyes at the back of his head.
He almost makes it before Mugm turns around and shoots him with an arrow; it pierces only his cloak but pulls him back to a nearby tree. His hood is pinned to the main trunk, uncomfortably high up that he has to tippy-toe.
Stormz first rips his cloak; The cloak isn’t worth his life and freedom. He readies his shield to block any other arrows, but Mugm doesn’t fire any more.
Instead, Mugm stares at him with mild amusement, the kind you’d give to a street performer you’ve seen one too many times. “Did the king compensate you for your injuries?” Mugm asks, keeping his head held high and his shoulders relaxed. Is he not scared of Stormz at all? Why is he so calm about this?
“Her Majesty had me eat apples for days to heal my shoulder; it was very rude of you to do that.” Mugm twirls a stray arrow around with his left hand. His shoulder is still exposed, with bandages wrapped around it. Is that why the shot didn’t hit Stormz at all? His injured shoulder ruined his aim?
The mention of Her Majesty is curious, though. The queen of Selene is said to be ruthless, more than Mugm is. She remains a mystery to even the Selenian public as she only speaks to a select few, one of which is Mugm.
“Shit bro, I don’t know what to say. It’s kinda my job,” Stormz shrugs, brainstorming how to get physically closer to Mugm so he can strangle him. What’s the correct play here? There’s not much he can do without potentially getting hit with whatever hand-to-hand combat Mugm has up his sleeve.
It’s a shame that he now has to think about all of this shit, perhaps that’s why Silva didn’t tell him, to reduce his nerves. Stormz tends to fight worse when he’s underconfident. However, even knowing this, the phantom pain in his stomach can’t be pushed away. Not when the perpetrator is standing right in front of him.
“An apology would be nice,” Mugm’s eyes flicker from his arrow to Stormz. His eyes are bright, they stand out against his otherwise dark skin and hair even in the night.
Mugm is blatently wrong if be’s expecting Stormz to apologize. Stormz is only going to say sorry if Mugm gets on his knees right now and apologizes for the Maritania. Other than that, they are in a deadlock.
“Yeah, it would be, huh?” Stormz decides to egg Mugm on a bit, to stall until he can either see an opening or he can think of something better.
Mugm frowns, grabbing onto his arrow, “Say you’re sorry.”
Stormz scoffs, this is ridiculous. Not just the words but the way Mugm says it is incredibly juvenile. “What if I don’t? You’ll kill me?” It’s now that he notices that Mugm’s shoulder may give way to a weaker left side. Potentially, if Stormz attacks that side, Mugm will falter.
“No, no, no… on God, say you’re sorry. I’m going to need to hear that apology, Stormz.” The prince has a completely serious facial expression, eyebrows furrowed and unrelenting.
Mugm reaches into his satchel and pulls out a gold crown, he places it on his head. It’s decorated with different coloured jewels. If Stormz kills him right now, he could probably sell the crown for a decent fortune.
He dashes to Mugm’s left, unveiling his garrote. Mugm stumbles a lot with his bow and arrow before tossing it for a metal sword. Stormz brought a blade that he quickly switches to (don’t bring a garrote to a sword fight). Infuriatingly, Mugm is really compotent with the sword as well. Stormz’s shield has been a lifesaver.
“How’d you learn swordsmanship?” Stormz asks as they’re mid-battle. Mugm won’t kill him immediately, he’ll survive this encounter even if he loses. Might as well get some more information out of it.
Mugm is incredibly fast on his feet, something Stormz already saw during their last encounter but the space of the garden really only amplifies it. Mugm is using the stone flower beds as leverage to jump off of and climb onto like it’s nothing. He doesn’t mess up his footwork at all, “For survival. Probably the same way you did.”
Stormz fights this for a little bit, maybe ten minutes if Stormz were to guess, before his sword starts chipping. He needs to hurry this up otherwise he’s definitely going to lose.
“If I were you, I’d start running right about now,” Mugm giggles, he laughs as they’re fighting, pulling his hair back with his left hand so he can see better.
Mugm isn’t even fighting with a shield, how the fuck are they on an even playing ground? Stormz can typiclaly feel when he’s winning an exchange and this is not one of those times. This is perplexing and most of all, worrying for his next attempt. He thinks about the next attempt because it’s becoming increasingly more obvious that this is not going to be successful. He can’t give Mugm time to react and fight because–as much as it hurts to say this–Mugm is too good for that.
Mugm won’t die in combat like this.
“Yeah? Why’s that?” Stormz needs to find some way out. He needs to escape.
Mugm disarms him when he’s busy looking for an exit. His sword is yanked out of his hand and Mugm’s blade is at his throat. “When has this happened before?” Stormz mutters beneath his breath, he raises both his hands to surrender. He can admit when he’s lost and this is one of those times.
Mugm lowers his sword and stares, “What would it take for you to leave me alone?”
“Why… are you hesitating?” For Stormz, it’s either him or Mugm and he would choose himself every time. Something about Mugm tells him that Mugm thinks similarly, so why hasn’t he done it already? Why is he playing with his food?
“What would it take for you to give up?” Mugm asks again, dodging Stormz’s question. He’s annoyingly stubborn.
Stormz hums, “Everything.”
At that, Mugm sheathes his sword and walks over to grab his bow and an arrow from the ground; shooting the single arrow into the sky. It lands nearby in the bushes.
“What did you just do—?” Stormz looks around for anything to happen. Why’s Mugm being performative—he spots the guards from a mile away. Mugm doesn’t have to look back, he doesn’t have to instruct the guards to do anything because they’re automatically chasing after Stormz.
“What the fuck?!” Stormz has to use his parkour skills to out-run a gang of like five grown ass men.
Why’s his life so difficult?