Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Despite being a bit embarrassing to admit, this was the first time Nickel had made it to the merge. Twice he had been eliminated by his fellow contestants, and twice he had been eliminated back-to-back with Balloon. 

Third time’s the charm, right? He thought while sitting around the campfire, waiting for Paintbrush to cast their vote so the elimination could begin. He and Balloon had stuck together during this challenge, despite the lack of teams. Neither of them got immunity. They almost managed to, the two of them made one hell of a team even if Nickel wasn’t going to admit it. In the end, Candle was the one who won immunity during the challenge, he wasn’t completely worried. After all, the viewers’ immunity vote was still in play too.

“The audience’s votes have been tallied,” MePhone’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “The viewers have decided, and the person who gets immunity will be…” a drumroll played, before a bar graph appeared on MePhone’s screen, “Clover! Congratulations on making it to the final seven of Inanimate Insanity Invitational.” 

Nickel heard a soft “Oh come on!” uttered from Balloon at the results. He and Balloon had voted for Clover, the two bet her luck would be enough to carry her through a fair amount of the future challenges.

“On with the elimination!” MePhone announced. “The first vote goes to…” the drumroll played again, “Nickel.” Nerves twisted together in his chest. It’s fine, it’s just one vote. He attempted to keep his face neutral, trying not to give away his fear. “Second vote:” MePhone paused for dramatic effect, “Nickel. Two votes Nickel.” 

Ok maybe, just maybe, he should start panicking. One-fourth of the votes that’s fine, he’s fine. “Third vote,” MePhone continued, ignoring the tension built around the elimination area, “Balloon.” Not a vote for him this time, but one for his frie- ally. His ally. “Fourth vote...Clover. Does not count. Two votes Nickel, one vote Balloon.” Nickel spotted Balloon crossing his fingers and Nickel wished he could do the same, there were still four votes left, maybe they would be different.

---

The last four votes were not different.

“That’s three votes Nickel, three votes Balloon. It’s a tie!” MePhone announced. Nickel sucked in a breath of air. Either way one of them was going to be eliminated. “Now I could leave it up to chance, but why not have the two people who voted for Clover cast their votes again. Unless someone would like to volunteer?” MePhone glanced between Nickel and Balloon. Neither moved. “No? Alright, I’ll let the two of you discuss before one of you steps up to the plate.”

Nickel stood up off the log he was sitting on, Balloon following in tow, and walked further down the beach so no one else could hear the two talk. Despite the fact he was sure a camera was pointed directly at them. 

“I’m gonna shut down the idea before you bring it up, we’re not gonna have a repeat of episode eleven,” Nickel declared. “I’m gonna vote for you, and you’ll vote for me, no hard feelings. We can leave it up for chance. Fifty-fifty of either of us leaving.”

Balloon nodded, as selfish as it sounds, he didn’t want to vote for himself again. “This will probably be one of our last times talking before one of us is eliminated,” Balloon stated, his words had a sense of finality to them. “Will we still be friends?” he blurted, “When we both get back to the hotel, that is.” 

Nickel looked at him, eyes wide. Balloon saw him as a friend? (He’d tried so hard to make up for how he was in season 2, so why did the word feel so…sour?) Nickel thought for a second. “I’m pretty sure Suitcase is gonna be angry when she realizes she spent a whole season trying to make us friends when all it took was working together a few times,” is what he chose to say. Balloon smiled. Nickel wanted to get the voting over with. Rip off the bandage quickly, “Let’s get back to the elimination.”

The two walked back to the campfire, sitting down at their respective seats.

“Balloon, you’re up first,” MePhone stated, motioning to the voting machine hidden behind a large curtain. Balloon stood up again, he gave Nickel a nervous smile as he disappeared behind the curtain. They only had to wait a moment before his vote registered with a beep, he walked out of the voting area as confident as he walked in (so low confidence).

Nickel was already walking when MePhone called him up. He stepped behind the curtain and over to the voting machine. He pressed on Balloon’s image, before hesitating. The words of an old friend echoed in his mind. He stared at the screen “Confirm vote. Are you sure?” it read. Nickel pressed yes. He heard a beep as MePhone received his vote. He walked out of the booth and sat down. 

“And the tenth person eliminated from Inanimate Insanity Invitational is…” MePhone paused, allowing the drumroll to play again. If this were the actual episode, Nickel would’ve bet the camera would be switching between him and Balloon while slowly zooming in. The two unanimous votes displayed on MePhone’s screen, “Nickel.” The coin in question let out a small sigh of relief while Balloon let out a small gasp beside him. (Though he was sure some of the other people sitting around him were just as stunned as his friend. Candle looked proud of him, oddly enough.) 

“Welp,” Nickel stood up and walked over to the spot where he’d be hit by the fist thingy and sent to… wherever he was going to be sent to. “You heard the man,” his words seemed to have snapped Balloon from his shock. 

“No no-- what?” is what the red balloon blabbered out.

“This isn’t some… self-sacrificial thing-- ok it kinda is-- but it’s not some pity party for me or you. You just--” he thought about what he was going to say, “...you deserve to win, Balloon. I’m not saying that I don’t, but after everything in season two--” he was cut off by Balloon pulling him into a hug. (He was very glad that the lighting was poor and Balloon couldn’t see his face, as he was sure it was noticeably redder.) Damn it no he wasn’t going to be vulnerable on television . 

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” his friend (even in his mind, the word felt bittersweet) whispered to him.

“I know,” he muttered back, “but I wanted to.” 

And that was all the reason Nickel needed. He didn’t do this just because he noticed his eyes being drawn to Balloon the way a compass points north. He didn’t do this because he felt warm when his friend smiled. Because the world tilted when Balloon laughed. Because whenever he heard or saw something funny, his first thought was to share it with him. Because he knew that Balloon preferred tea over coffee, or pop music made him anxious, or that he didn’t like cake but still liked cupcakes. 

They were all contributing factors, of course. And Nickel definitely wasn’t in denial about anything, no sir he was not. (Though he’s heard the phrase “to know someone is to love them” before.) He still had people to apologize to back at the hotel anyway.

Balloon let go of the hug. “You better win this thing for me,” Nickel stated.

“I will,” Balloon gave him a small, melancholic smile and backed up.

What a way to ruin an emotional moment, being kicked in the gut and sent flying out into the atmosphere like Team Rocket.

---

Nickel faceplanted on the beach of an island. He rolled over and groaned, spitting the sand out of his mouth. 

A crackle of a walkie-talkie drew his attention, “Hello and welcome to Indefinite Island!” a feminine voice said. Nickel stood up and shook off any sand that clung to him. “You can stay here and have a chance at rejoining the show, or leave using the rowboat!” Nickel looked over and saw an old rowboat beached on the shore. 

“Where’s everyone else?” He asked, looking around.

“Oh, they’re just around here and there. I’m sure someone will check the beach soon for eliminated contestants, so you can just wait here if you want,” she said. Nickel didn’t trust this random walkie-talkie, it wasn’t helping that the gloomy island looked eerily like Idiotic Island, their names even sounded similar. At least there were trees and shade this time, and he wasn’t stuck in a cage. That was a plus. The leaves of a bush in front of him rustled, and out stepped Lifering.

“Nickel! Good to see you! Well, not good that you were eliminated but,” at Nickel’s scowl the lifeguard stopped talking.

“How do I get off this island?” Nickel asked.

“Well, you could take the rowboat.”

“Yes, like going out into the open sea without knowing where I’m even going is a wonderful idea.”

“That’s a horrible idea.” Lifering deadpanned, not catching Nickel’s sarcasm, “But I could teach you! Not to brag but I know a bit about navigation, it’ll at least be enough to get you back to the hotel.”

Nickel would rather not listen to Lifering for an hour straight, but it's either that or be stuck with him and anyone else on this island for who knows how long. He might as well.

---

Nickel had never been so happy to see Inanimate Island. He docked on the shore as the sun began its climb into the sky. He’d been rowing all night, he was lucky Lifering helped him set up a pedaling system so he could use the oars without arms. He got out of the boat and pulled it ashore next to the multiple other rowboats taken by other eliminated contestants. He recognized where he was, this was the southeastern point of Inanimate Island. One of two places with an actual beach, and also the beach closest to the crappy cliff. At least he didn’t land on the northern part of the island, he’d have to walk a long way.

The trek to the hotel wasn’t as bad as Nickel assumed, though it wasn’t necessarily good or easy either. His legs wobbled with every step from having to pedal the oars in the boat. He had almost tripped a total of nine times and did trip twice. 

He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Hotel OJ, a pillar of rest, a beacon of relaxation; finally, he could lie down in his bed and not on the ground. He wouldn’t have to get Balloon to steal food from the Pic-Nix tables after he was banned from them, he could finally get more than six hours of sleep again-- and the door was locked.

Wonderful. Great. This was just what he needed.

Nickel groaned and kicked the door of the hotel a few times (it wasn’t like he could knock with any hands ). He hoped that maybe someone had fallen asleep watching a movie on the couch, or maybe OJ had stayed up late again and fell asleep at the dining table. The door opened to a tired-looking Paper.

“Nickel?” Paper asked, rubbing his eyes blearily, he opened the door wider and moved to let Nickel in. 

“The door was locked,” Was all the information Nickel gave as he walked inside. 

“So you got eliminated?”

“ No , I just decided to visit the hotel at dawn of all times,” Nickel quipped, “I’m gonna go to my room and sleep for a year.” He left without waiting for Paper’s response (albeit with a small bit of guilt from being snappy) and headed over to the elevators next to the staircase. He pressed the button for the fourth floor and almost fell asleep standing up while the elevator was moving. He dragged himself down the hallway, opened his door, and collapsed on his bed.

---

Nickel woke up to a crash. He grimaced at the sound and buried himself further into his covers. After a few seconds of silence, curiosity overcame his original plan of staying in bed. He shoved the blankets off of him and headed downstairs, checking the time as he went, 1 pm .

---

He yawned as he stepped out of the elevator. “You cheater!” he heard the yell from the living room.

“For the last time, I’m not cheating!” Another voice shouted. 

Nickel followed the noise, most of the other residents of the hotel were crowded in the living room. Projected on the TV screen was a scoreboard for a game Nickel recognized, Dahoot. He noticed that there were more couches and seats than the last time he had been here. Everyone seemed to have been broken up into groups of three, though a few spectators were meandering around. Each team either had a phone or a laptop held by the object sitting in the middle. 

A new question popped up, Nickel didn’t even read it before saying “The answer’s blue,” he grinned as he watched as a few people absentmindedly clicked the answer he blurted out. A few others glanced over at him momentarily before clicking the right answer. 

He looked over the teams, Salt, Pepper, and Cherries were all teamed up, an unlikely trio but one to surely end in some eventual disaster for everyone else. Cheesy was narrating each question, adding in a few jokes and bad puns. Baseball was on a team with Suitcase and Knife, the latter of which was shooting glances (Nickel would say he looked worried) over at Pickle, who was on a team with Taco and Microphone. OJ was-- wait, Taco? 

Nickel did a double-take, his eyes darting back to the season one second-place winner. Did something happen while he was gone? Something must’ve happened while he was gone. Barely anyone batted an eye at the fact that she was here. It was odd, seeing her awkwardly try to reconnect with her old ally (though Nickel had no clue what Microphone had to do with any of it). 

The Dahoot game ended as anyone would expect, the team of Fan, Lightbulb, and Test Tube won with their collective knowledge. Although Cabby’s team was right on their tail in second place. A chorus of groans came from all the other competitors.

“Alright next time, you three all have to be on different teams, this is the fourth time this has happened,” OJ stated. His team of Bomb and Paper got fifth.

The chatter resumed, but most of the residents dispersed once the game had ended. Nickel joined in the conversation a few times. No one asked about his elimination. It wasn’t that no one cared, it’s just that being eliminated can be a touchy subject for some (he remembered being frustrated about his season two elimination even a week after it had happened) and by now it had been commonplace to assume a competitor showing up to the hotel meant they were eliminated. Nickel even spotted some of the people from season 3 staying in the hotel, OJ must’ve offered them a place to stay too.

Nickel looked over at the few people still in the living room. Microphone and Soap were talking, Taco stiffly sitting next to the former, Cheesy and the Cherries were scheming over something that Nickel knew he shouldn’t involve himself in. Knife was holding a conversation with Suitcase. Seeing his old alliance member brought back the memory of one of his many excuses for voting for himself. He needed to apologize.  

Yes, he was going to get up and go talk to her. Right now. Yup, he was just going to get off of his chair and apologize to her. He was gonna do it.

“Dude, are you ok?” Nickel whirled around to see Baseball standing next to him. He could talk to Baseball, he needed to apologize to him too.

“Yeah I’m fine, just...thinking you know?” he replied.

“It’s good to see you again,”

“Yeah, getting roped into a third season before the second even ended was the worst,” he paused, “Well, it was the worst at the start, but I wouldn’t call it all that bad by the end. I didn’t get the chance to watch the end of season two while I was there though, who won?”

“Oh uh,” Baseball paused, almost not wanting to tell him the answer, “Suitcase did. Knife got eliminated next and after him was me, Lightbulb and Suitcase were the final two.” 

“Hey, third place isn’t so bad, it’s better than 16th,” Nickel responded. 

“Oh don’t remind me, I got out so early in season one,” Baseball laughed. “I haven’t had the chance to watch season three yet either, and no offense but I probably won’t. I’m done with competitions at this point. But I’m still a bit curious about who's still in the game.”

“Well, there are a few newcomers still in. Clover and Silver Spoon somehow haven’t gotten eliminated yet and Candle’s there too. Then there’s Bow, -- who’s alive again for some reason?-- and Balloon, Paintbrush, and Yin-Yang.” 

“Good luck to them, I’m fine with third place.” 

Nickel missed being able to talk to Baseball.

“Hey, I’m sorry--” Nickel cleared his throat when the word came out as a cough, “I’m sorry for making you choose sides with me and Suitcase in season two. I shouldn’t have split up pur Alliance and then never try to keep it together.”

Baseball looked surprised. The expression left his face as quickly as Nickel identified it and was replaced with something softer. 

“Don’t give me that look, this is the bare minimum!”

Baseball chuckled, “Alright alright! Seriously though, I accept your apology.” Baseball glanced over at where Nickel had been staring at Suitcase before. “Are you gonna try to talk to her too?”

“Yeah, I will eventually. I just…I can’t find the right words.”

“You’ll figure something out. Now get up and go say something before you chicken out,” Baseball replied, pushing Nickel out of the chair. Nickel rolled his eyes, but took a breath and walked over to where Suitcase and Knife were talking.

Knife shot him a look as he approached the two. Better now than never, “Hey Suitcase, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked. She glanced over at Knife momentarily, Knife shrugged. 

“Yeah…sure,” she hesitated. The two walked into the hallway outside the living room, Baseball gave Nickel a reassuring smile. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Suitcase said, her voice sounded steadier than it has been before, more assertive. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out right away, he couldn’t read the expression on Suitcase’s face. “I was a jerk to you and Balloon during season two. I shouldn’t have ordered you around or demand for you to steal when you didn’t want to. I shouldn’t have tried to split up your friendship with Balloon just because we were in an alliance. I felt like you had to trust me, but I didn’t trust you in return, or even do anything to earn your trust. I should’ve tried harder to get to know you and I should’ve thought more about how you felt.”

Nickel paused for a moment, remembering his elimination the day before and took a breath before he continued. “I thought about what you said when I was eliminated. About being a true ally. I don’t think I got it at first, but…I think I do now.”

The two stood in silence for a moment, Nickel awaiting Suitcase’s response.

“Alright.” Is what she said, “I might take a while to truly forgive you, and it might take longer for me to be able to call you my friend. And there’s a possibility I never will. but it’s a start.” She looked hin in the eye. “You’re going to have to apologize to Balloon too, though, when he gets back.”

“Oh, I’ve already done that about,” he counted in his head, “Three times already. We, uh, were placed on the same team in season three and kinda became allies.” This would take a bit to explain.

---

Some people noticed the little changes in Nickel’s behavior. Sure, he was still his sarcastic, blunt self, but he took a second to think about his words before he said anything. His quips turned to well-meaning teasing rather than thinly veiled insults, and if he ever went too far he would apologize to the person. It was a nice change, albeit a confusing one for those who Nickel doesn’t talk to regularly. 

The few people in the hotel who watched season three didn't seem to treat him any different for his elimination once the episode was up. Though he was sure he heard Fan talking to Test Tube about “cinematic parallels,” or something along those lines.

It was summer when season three ended. The eliminated contestants were brought back to the vacation island from the hotel to watch the final two, Balloon and Candle, battle it out in the final challenge. In true Inanimate Insanity fashion, the final challenge was a blend of all the prior challenges. Of course, there were changes added. More obstacles, a few new problems sprinkled in. Just so that the finale wouldn’t be completely boring. The last obstacle was a race to the finish line. The whole thing reminded Nickel of the ending to season one. He hoped it wouldn’t end the same way.

He and the other eliminated contestants sat on a set of bleachers. “I think I see them,” Paintbrush lowered their pair of binoculars as they pointed to a place on the horizon. Sure enough, Nickel could see Candle and Balloon running towards the finish line. Cheering erupted around him as a few people stood to see better, Nickel got up and joined in the chorus of shouts. He cheered on his friend as the mad dash to the finish ended.

Balloon was the one to break the ribbon. 

MePhone appeared from nowhere. “And with that, Balloon is the winner of Inanimate Insanity season three!” by then, Nickel had tuned him out. He rushed down the steps of the bleachers alongside most of the other contestants. Balloon, who had done a very climactic running jump to break the finish line, was being helped up by Candle. The two exchanged words that Nickel couldn’t hear, but Candle didn’t look mad at Balloon, so Nickel could only hope it was a good thing. Balloon turned to the crowd of people congratulating him or Candle for making it so far. His eyes searched the group before they landed on Nickel. Balloon swept him up into a hug, spinning the two around for a moment before letting go. 

“I did it, I won!” Balloon exclaimed, a bright smile spread across his face.

Nickel laughed, a harmonious sound, “You did!”

Chapter Text

The War of April 1st began with a glitter bomb. 

Trophy was just trying to go about his normal day, nothing new happening. No more tyrannical billionaires, evil second place winners, whatever was going on with Balloon and Nickel that no one except him seemed to catch, or other general crises to bother him. So he went about his normal routine. He woke up early in the morning, brushed his teeth, avoided his roommate, and went to the kitchen to get breakfast. He opened a cabinet, merely wanting to grab his protein powder to add to a smoothie (call him stereotypical, he doesn’t care) when a tidal wave of pink glitter erupted from it instead. The tsunami of sparkles hit Trophy head-on, completely covering him in shades of shining rose.

He spat glitter from his mouth and turned to look at whoever was poorly stifling their laughter behind him, no doubt the perpetrators of this crime. The Cherries were watching from outside the kitchen. The left one laughed while trying (and failing) to shush the right one (who was practically doubled over from laughing). 

“Oh, it is on .” Trophy stated. This means war .

---

“I don’t know why you asked me to help you with this,” Cheesy said, “I mostly do stand-up comedy, I’m not too gouda at slap stick,” he slapped his knee. 

“Yeah I don’t want to get too involved either, I don’t want to make a mess that I’ll have to clean up,” Soap said. Her, Cheesy, Tissues, and Trophy were all sitting in the latter two’s shared room. Trophy may have had his differences with some of them (like Tissues existing as his roommate, Cheesy’s poorly made jokes), but they were the first people he thought to turn to in the face of war. (He would have picked Box instead of Tissues, but the doctor ordered for him to not do anything too strenuous after he was released from the hospital.)

“The Cherries have already launched an attack against me earlier today.” Trophy continued, still shining from the leftover glitter he couldn’t quite get off of him (Cheesy quietly giggled to himself), “and there will be revenge. You all are the ones I’ve recruited to enact this prank.”

Soap stared at him, “Yeah, no, I’m out,” she said, standing up.

“Once this is over, I’ll clean up any mess we made during it,” Trophy offered. Soap sat back down.

“So what’s your plan?” Tissues prompted.

“I’m glad you asked,” Trophy wheeled out a table from one side of the room. On top of the table was a piece of grid paper with the hotel’s layout scrawled on it. A small plastic box on the table held pawn-like mini figurines. Each had a different line of washi tape wrapped around the center, the strips of tape were a different color or pattern for each pawn. He set out four of the pawns (gold, yellow polka dot, striped pink, and light blue tape respectively) on the paper where the room they were currently in would be. He then placed a pawn (with a cherry pattern) on Cherries and Yin-Yang’s room. “Because I have no clue,” he finished the sentence. 

“We could scare them?” A voice below them said. All four objects let out different yelps of surprise.

“ Floor , oh Katz you scared the living daylights out of me,” Soap relaxed upon seeing the face on the floor. Trophy never had a full-on conversation with Floor. Their dynamic was usually Trophy telling him off for getting in the frame of a photo he was trying to take, or yelling at him for scaring him while he was trying to relax outside.

“Sorry,” Floor apologized, “but I could help! I can go check out who the Cherries have on their team and report back to you. Or I could tell you what pranks they’re planning,” he offered. Trophy thought about it for a moment before snapping his fingers.

“Deal,” Trophy agreed, a spy would be very useful. He picked out another pawn from the bin (this one had a pixelated green and brown pattern of tape that resembled grass and dirt) and placed it next to the other four. 

“I won’t disappoint,” Floor said before disappearing.

Trophy pulled out a small notebook. “So, does anyone have any plans?”

---

The Cherries walked back to their room, they’d just met with someone interested in joining their side of the war (well, two someones). Now they were hoping for Yin-Yang to be in their room, if they could convince the two to join their side before Trophy got to them then they’d have an advantage. The prank in the kitchen was not meant for Trophy. Usually, on April 1st the Cherries tended to steer clear of more competitive objects like him, lest the pranks evolve into full-out war. They weren’t so lucky this time. But hey, they’ve done so many nice pranks recently, some mildly annoying pranks wouldn’t hurt .

They opened the door to the room they shared with Yin-Yang. They paused in the doorway, gaping at the sight. Every surface, item, and belonging in the room was completely wrapped in wrapping paper of every color, pattern, and design. Yin-Yang was standing in the middle of the room, furiously tearing some wrapping paper off the floor. A note floated to the ground in front of the Cherries. They picked it up, “I hope you like your gifts! - TCSFT.” it read. The left and right cherries looked over at eachother and smiled twin grins. This was going to be fun. 

---

Trophy let himself laugh along with his team as they regrouped in his room.

“I wish I could see their faces now,” Cheesy giggled. Being able to wrap an entire room with wrapping paper in less than two hours was a feat of its own. Think of what they could do if they had more time. Floor’s face appeared on the carpet and Trophy sobered up, pushing away his laughter. 

“The Cherries went to recruit someone onto their team, but I couldn’t find out who they were without being seen,” Floor reported, “and Yin-Yang has officially joined their side too.” Trophy soaked up the information, he headed over to the planning table and placed a pawn with black and white tape next to the pawn with cherry-printed tape. 

“Thank you, Floor.” Trophy turned back to the rest of his team, Floor gave him an affirming grin before sinking back into the carpet, “Alright everyone, prepare yourself for a counterattack. You can continue about your regular day until their prank, or you can stay a little longer to help plot out the next prank.” A traitorous part of Trophy wanted them to stay longer. 

“Mic and I already have plans to hang out soon. Maybe I can ask her for ideas,” Soap said, standing up. “This was fun though, tell me when the Cherries prank one of us again,” she closed the door when she left.

“Yeah, I’ve got plans to meet up with someone too,” Tissues voiced nasally.

Trophy stared at him, confused, “Who?” Tissues was an…okay person, Trophy would admit. And Trophy’s negative opinion might just be based on the fact he’s Tissues’ roommate, but why would anyone want to hang out with him ?

“Nunya,”

“Oh ha ha like nunya business,” Trophy deadpanned. Tissues, too, left the room. That just left…

“Guess that just leaves you and me to plan, Trophy!” Cheesy. The comedian wasn’t the highest on Trophy’s list of people he liked, but company was company. “Alright boss, where should we start?” Trophy rolled his eyes but took out his tiny notebook anyway. He flipped through the pages, most of them were filled with ideas for compositions, or a list of the teas he did and didn’t like, or little doodles and notes he wrote down during the day. He landed on an empty page and sat down on his bed next to Cheesy, there weren’t exactly that many seats in the room.

“Just blurt out any idea, we’ll find something that works eventually,” he frowned and tapped the end of his pencil against the notebook. 

Trophy knew he wasn’t the smartest person. He’d gladly give up that title to Cabby or Test Tube. He wasn’t the most creative either. He tended to focus more on athleticism, he was better at working out than cramming information into his brain, so he found no reason to try to store any unnecessary information that would just go in one ear and out the other anyway. You can’t teach someone who never learns. He knew he had average intelligence and he was fine with it. It wasn’t like he didn’t have good ideas. He could come up with something good every so often. Blackmail was not one of those good ideas, and Soap kept telling him that he had to apologize for it. He knows he has to, but something in him can’t bring himself to show his face to Knife again. Whether it be shame, guilt, regret-- whatever you want to call it. Trophy calls it cowardice. 

He didn’t know much about Cheesy. He didn’t know much about any of the contestants. His walls had already been built by the time he was in Inanimate Insanity. After his elimination he only built those walls higher, distancing himself from the other people he lived with. (Despite how tall he built them, he couldn’t help but notice cracks and flaws he kept ‘neglecting’ to patch up.) The only person he had gotten close to was Soap. She managed to seamlessly slip past his thorny exterior. She offered to help him with his photography. Whether it be volunteering to be a model, showing him places on the island she thought were cool or would make a good composition, or helping him make sure his camera was in working order, she always found an excuse to hang out with him. He spent time with her in return. He stayed after dinner to help clean the dishes, he joined her in playing video games even if she kicked his butt at it each time, he made sure she wasn’t overworking herself again. It was nice, having a friend. (Trophy would call her a sister if he weren’t so stubborn.)

But Cheesy was a real enigma to him. He knew the face that he showed off to others. He knew the dumb puns, the poorly-timed jokes, the wide grins. Trophy may not have been the smartest, but he was perceptive. He knew when the puns became forced, when the jokes became a shield, when the smile became strained. He didn’t know what Cheesy was like when he allowed himself to be genuine. He thought back to the incident after Test Tube and Microphone had been eliminated. Sure, he respected the comedian more after all that , but he didn’t like thinking of the event. His brain seemed to agree with the sentiment. The memories buried deep below his surface, kept shackled away under the lock and key of a thick fog that only rose either when he willingly thought back to the incident or in his nightmares. 

“Woah, Trophs, what did your notebook do to you?” Trophy didn’t realize he was zoning out (all while glaring at the blank page) until he was snapped out of it by Cheesy’s words. 

“Trophs?”

“Well it was that or Phee, Tree, or Roph, just seems like the one you’d hate the least.”

Trophy snorted involuntarily. 

“We could always go with a classic bucket of water over the door trick,” Cheesy said. Trophy remembered they were in the middle of a prank war. The comedian paused for a second.“Wait no, that could go wrong in too many ways. If OJ was the one to walk under it he’ll kill us for diluting him,” the comedian shuddered at the thought.

Trophy crossed an idea off of the list he made earlier.

The two fell into a rhythm. Cheesy would shoot out an idea, Trophy would write it down, add onto it, or point out ways it could go wrong (i.e. hurt someone accidentally). Soon though, Cheesy’s sentences had turned away from pranks and more towards rambling about any story that popped into his mind. Trophy didn’t know when he set down his notebook in favor of listening to Cheesy animatedly tell him about the time he tried to domesticate a stray opossum he found in the dumpster behind Hotel OJ. He also didn’t notice how much time had passed until Soap barged into the room. She kicked the door open, dragging Tissues behind her.

“This is my last straw with those gremlins!” She yelled, flinging Tissues onto the bed next to Trophy’s. Tissues hit the mattress with an oomph , he groaned when he sat up. “They put our stuff in jello Trophy! Jello! ” She held up his camera, and a jolt of panic stabbed through him. He swears if they damaged his camera at all-- “Sure they put it in plastic wrap but it’s still annoying.”

---

Yin-Yang leaned up against a wall of Hotel OJ. He glanced over at the corner next to him. “You got the stuff?” Yang asked. A hand appeared from behind the corner, holding a plastic bag the same size of bagged mulch, filled to the brim with rainbow glitter. Yang smiled, Yin looked worried. What are we even going to do with all that glitter? The light side thought. “Perfect,” Yang continued, he went to grab the bag, but it was pulled back. “Right, your payment.” Yang pulled out a Tupperware container of cookies, oatmeal raisin. He handed the container over to them. They took the box and gave him the bag. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said, walking out of the room. Yang cackled inwardly to himself. The other team wasn’t going to know what hit them. 

---

“Trophy! Soap! Could you two like, help me out with something?” Salt walked up to the two of them. Currently, Soap and Trophy were carrying packs of red solo cups for a future prank. Contrary to the stereotype of the jock and the popular girl being friends, Trophy doesn’t think he’s held more than one conversation with Salt. 

“What is it Salt?” Soap asked, always willing to help out. Something itched in the back of Trophy’s brain. Something was off. 

“Yeah, there’s this big mess in one of the lounges. I don’t, like, know what happened but someone must’ve spilled something.”

Salt led the two to the room. Trophy chased the feeling in the back of his mind like a dog chasing its tail. It was only when he stepped into the room that he realized.

“Wait, where’s Pep--” He turned to Salt, only to see her pull a rope that led up above the door. Trophy didn’t have any time to look up before he and Soap were covered in bright purple slime. Soap gasped and Trophy gawked at the slime. He shook some of it off of his hands. 

“Sorry, but the Cherries made a pretty good deal if I helped them out,” Salt wickedly cackled, and slunk back out into the hallway. 

---

“Two pranks in a row!” Trophy (now free of purple slime) paced around his room. “We’ve gotta pull our prank now--”

“Guys!” Floor interrupted, popping into existence, “I found out where they’re going to put their next prank!” Trophy’s face lit up.

“Perfect! We can go there and set up our prank first,” Trophy grinned as the plan formed in his mind.

---

Floor led them to the room. It was an unused room, one neither OJ nor Paper knew what to put in, one that would eventually turn into another storage room.

“So this is it?” Trophy asked, the room itself was small and barren. 

“I’m…sorry.” Floor’s voice was genuine as he sunk into the hardwood floor. Before anyone could muster a response, the room exploded into sparkles. It was a loud noise that shook the ground. Glitter filled the air, floating down like a blizzard of snowflakes. Coating the four objects who stood below it in a blanket of rainbow glitter.

The four of them stood shellshocked in the empty room. 

---

Outside the window, the sun sank below the horizon. April first was almost over. Cherries, Salt, Pepper, and Yin-Yang sat on one side of the dining room table, and Trophy, Soap, Cheesy, and Tissues sat on the other. Floor was on the floor. 

“You may ask why we’ve gathered you all here,” Soap prompted as she stood up on her chair. “We gather here to negotiate a truce. A ceasefire to this prank war.”

“What? Because you’re too bad at pranks to continue?” Yang laughed.

“ Yang! ” Yin was taken aback, “Apologize to them! That was mean, they’re our friends!”

Yang rolled his eyes and sighed, “I am very sorry for what I said. It was very wrong and I should not have said it,” he flatly recited. 

“Thank you,” Yin seemed content despite his brother’s unenthusiasm.

“Anyway, we--” Soap was interrupted again, this time by Tissues.

“Floor you traitor! Why would you ally yourself with them!” His sentence was punctuated by a sneeze and a small ‘bless you’ from Floor and Soap. 

“I’m sorry guys,” he at least sounded remorseful, “but they offered food!” Ok nevermind, this was stupid. Trophy thought. Soap glared at Floor and Tissues.

“As I was saying . A truce is in order.” She sat back down and placed a piece of paper on the table, when did she have the time to write up an actual contract? “We ask for an end to the constant pranks, as well as a helping hand in cleaning up. What are your demands?” She slid the paper over to the Cherries, who read over it a moment before whispering to one another.

“The fine print here says that we would have to help you with all the chores around the hotel, not just cleaning up the pranks we did,” The left one announced as the right one pointed to the fine print. Trophy sent Soap a wide-eyed ‘why would you do that’ glare. Soap shrugged in response. Trophy facepalmed. 

“We can… omit that?” Soap supplied. The Cherries crossed out the fine print with a pen. Trophy was sure that wasn’t how documents worked. 

The negotiations went on, unrealistic demands were voiced, more realistic demands were argued. They went off-topic more times than they should've.

Trophy leaned back in his chair, he sipped the glass of water he got from the kitchen about an hour into the discussion. Cheesy, the Cherries, and Yin-Yang were playing three-way rock-paper-scissors under the table where Soap couldn’t see them. Trophy blinked as they all tied for the fourth time in a row. Salt and Pepper were critiquing the contract, which was now looking more like a bunch of ink scribbles than anything. Soap watched in horror as they discussed a million loopholes in front of her. Floor was wandering around the living room again. Tissues had managed to fall asleep in his chair despite the squabbling around him. A warm sense of fondness rose inside him. 

Trophy had competed in Inanimate Insanity with mile-high walls guarding his heart, and he only built them higher after his elimination.

Maybe it would be a nice change of scenery to tear them down instead.

Chapter Text

Taco stood in a small clearing, she looked out at a lake from behind a bush. Which was odd, considering she very clearly remembered being allowed to live inside Hotel OJ. She was wearing headphones, and a small receiver dish was held in her steady grip. The headphones didn’t have any noise coming through them, merely a suffocating silence addled by the soft brush of static. (“Surely it couldn’t have been nothi--” … “Microphone?” The memory fizzled up like sparking flames before she swatted it back down.) This place was all too familiar. She looked out to the lake. 

Near the dock, Nickel was yelling at Suitcase. Balloon stood shellshocked on the dock, even from this distance he looked like he had seen a ghost. Suitcase jumped in the water.

This was…perplexing. Taco had instantly recognized where (rather when ) she was. This was the bucket brigade challenge, where she truly started trusting Microphone. Perhaps everything had been a dream? No, she never fell asleep. Is this a dream? She pinched herself. Not a dream. She scratched the idea off of the list in her head. 

Time travel was the next theory. Marshmallow had bought a time machine in season one, hell, Taco had traveled back with her. Test Tube had invented her time machine from scratch, which was an impressive feat of its own. However, at this moment in time, Test Tube had yet to finish the device. There was also the fact that if she was time-traveling, wouldn’t she see another one of her? Or remember seeing herself? If it’s neither a dream nor time travel, then what is going on? 

Taco observed the competition as the minutes passed. Suitcase returned to shore, the tanks were filled up, the two teams threw the ball at the targets. 

Except, something changed. Knife offered the last ball to Balloon, just as he did before. Except Balloon shook his head and motioned for Knife to throw it instead. Knife shrugged, but by the time he had turned to throw it, Test Tube had hit the last target for her team. Taco watched as The Grand Slams around Balloon groaned and griped. Even from this distance, she managed to hear Microphone complain “Nice going, Balloon. You distracted him and we lost.” She had to commend Microphone for her manipulation technique, pinning the blame on someone who wasn’t even the reason for the loss, even if she doesn’t morally agree with it anymore. 

The static in her headphones eased as Microphone turned up her gain again. “Look,” Microphone whispered to her, “I know I didn’t do what you asked--” the same words as she said before. Taco frantically searched her memory for what she had said in response.

“No, Microphone.” Taco cut her off, “Instead, you found a way to manage manipulation that functions inside the rules of the game. Somehow balancing my respect for the competition along with good old-fashioned messing with people.” The words now felt sour on her tongue, but she was thankful for her impeccable memory. “I had no clue such a strategy was possible, I’m very impressed. Now, lay low and let them have their squabble.” Microphone turned her gain down again. Taco sighed. Something changed, but it yielded the same result in the end. The Grand Slams still lost. 

But why would it change? Balloon had been desperate to prove himself, why would he give up now? Everyone else’s actions were the same (omitting their reactions to the variation), even now, things were following the same structure. Knife shot a suspecting glance at Microphone before sitting down on the dock and talking to Suitcase. Exactly as he had done before. Taco flipped the thought around in her metaphorical hand. If Balloon altered his actions while everything else stayed the same with no interference from her, then he might know what’s wrong. There was still time before the elimination, she could talk to him. Yes, wonderful idea Taco “Good evening Balloon, I know you currently hate me but I am not from this time and you did something to disrupt how things went originally so what’s up with that?” Ah, well, what’s the worst that can happen? Balloon was to be eliminated this round anyway. As long as Microphone wasn’t near while she talked to him, he would have no proof of her involvement. Taco had made up her mind.

Merely an hour later, Balloon was sitting by himself beneath a tree. He had a notebook out, and he jotted something down every once in a while. His face was scrunched up in concentration. Taco watched from behind a tree. She threw a small, smooth, rock at him. He rubbed his head where it hit him, and picked up the rock, inspecting it. She threw another rock, this time he turned and caught sight of her. His eyes widened in surprise, she motioned for him to follow her, and she sunk further into the woods. She followed a path to a small clearing in the Perilous Forest. Covered by a canopy of leaves, it was the same place she first talked with Microphone. She sat down on a log, moving a cup of tea she had set up beforehand to her lap. Balloon pushed through the bushes moments behind her. He looked around at the clearing, visibly hesitant. He sat down on the tree stump in front of Taco’s log. 

“So. Taco.” he started, fidgeting with his hands, “what are you doing here?” The surprise in his voice was forced, Taco could tell. Balloon was never the best at lying.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Taco asked, swirling the tea around. “We’ve already done all of this before.” Balloon let out a sigh of relief. 

“I don’t know,” he said, “The last thing I remember was that I was in the hotel, then I blinked and I was back here. Are we…dreaming?”

“Shared dreams are unlikely, if not impossible.”

“Alright, not a dream.” He pulled out the notebook from before and crossed something out. “What about an alternate reality? Test Tube’s talked about those.”

“It’s certainly a possibility,” Taco stated, “but if we were in an alternate reality, wouldn’t there be more changes?” 

“Oh, that’s true.” The two sat in silence, thinking over each idea. “Are we dead and this is purgatory?”

Taco spat out her tea, “We’re not dead. Listen, let’s just continue as normal. Maybe we’ll figure out what’s going on that way.”

---

They continued as normal. Taco watched the elimination, Suitcase voted for Nickel, Nickel voted for Balloon, Balloon voted for himself. 

“Thank you,” he said to Suitcase and stepped through the portal in a flash of light.

== Loop #2 ==

Taco stood in a small clearing, she looked out at a lake from behind a bush. Which was odd, considering she had just done this exact thing hours before. Alright then, time loop it is. She watched as Balloon fumbled with the bucket on the dock, almost tripping but catching himself before he did. He filled it with water and handed it off to the next person in the brigade.  Balloon looked over to the treeline, he scanned the bushes until he saw Taco. Taco shrugged at him. He turned back to the challenge, where the bucket was being passed to him. Taco watched as he filled it up and kept it going.

---

The Bright Lights lost this time. Knife scored the final shot before Test Tube managed to orient herself. Taco watched as the team cheered at their victory. Microphone walked away from the majority of the group and turned her gain back up. “Well it wasn’t what we were hoping for, and I know I didn’t listen to you--”

“Microphone, you did fantastically, I’m impressed with your methods. Now I need to talk to you in person, something is wrong and I think I need your help, meet me where we first met. This may sound idiotic or far-fetched, but bring Balloon with you. It concerns him as well.”

“Balloon? But he doesn’t--”

“Please trust me, Microphone, he won’t sell us out.” Taco held in a breath as Microphone paused.

“Alright,” she said in the end, “I trust you.”

“Thank you, Mic.”

Taco didn’t delay as she headed to the Perilous Forest. She didn’t stop to watch Microphone convince Balloon to go with her. Not that it would be difficult. In her timeline, everyone now knew that Taco had helped Microphone (it was a whole other story Taco would rather not reflect on at the moment). 

She didn’t have to wait long before Microphone and Balloon entered the small clearing. Microphone awkwardly stood next to Taco as Balloon sat down.

“Alright, I’ll cut straight to the chase, assuming you haven’t already done so. Balloon and I are stuck in a time loop,” Taco let her words sink in. Microphone’s gaze darted from Balloon (who waved at her awkwardly) and Taco (who patiently watched her register this crisis).

“I- Wh-” Microphone sat down and fumbled with her words for a moment, “How??”

“We don’t exactly know?” Balloon phrased the statement as a question, he looked over at Taco to confirm, just in case she figured it out. She nodded, confirming she had no clue either. “Yeah, we don’t know.” 

“How do I know you’re really in a time loop and this isn’t just some elaborate prank?” 

“What would I even achieve out of pranking you?” Taco responded, baffled. Microphone paused.

“Alright, you got me there.” She continued, “How can I help you…get out of the loop I guess?”

“As long as Test Tube doesn’t get eliminated this challenge then we could ask her for her help,” Taco suggests. “She doesn’t even have to know I’m involved, all you and Balloon have to do is say that Balloon is stuck in a time loop. She’ll likely be fascinated by the possibility, she might not believe you at first, but it’s probable she’ll help you in the name of science.”

“There’s nothing to lose if she doesn’t believe us, so we can go ask her now,” Balloon said. He paused as he stood up. “Or we could,” a mischievous smile split across his face, “I dunno, mess with everyone? All in good fun of course! Nothing bad.”

“Hm,” Taco placed a hand to her chin, a multitude of thoughts flashed by her brain, “I like how you think,” she matched his grin with one of her own. 

== Loop #3 ==

The loop had spat them out hours before the time they had originally arrived, it seems that the time the loop started and ended fluctuated.

Taco scanned the cards held in front of her, narrowing her eyes at her opponent. “Draw four, change the color to green,” she placed the card on the top of one pile, Balloon grumbled but grabbed four cards from the other pile. He scanned his new cards and shuffled them around in his hands, organizing them.

“Hey Balloon, MePhone’s calling everyone together for the challenge-- oh, who’s that?” Taco glanced over to see Suitcase walk up to them, Nickel and Baseball followed not far behind. When the two alliance members caught sight of Taco their eyes widened in shock.

“Taco?” Nickel shouted, “What are you doing here?”

Taco frowned at him, Balloon glanced at the two of them before turning back to the game. Taco looked from the pile of Uno cards on the floor, to Nickel, to the cards, to Nickel. “What does it look like I’m doing?” she stated. Balloon snickered and took the time to throw down a green skip card and then a green draw two card. Taco gasped “You fiend! ” she took two cards from the pile nonetheless. 

Nickel proceeded to rant about how this just proved how untrustworthy Balloon was. Something something, “I can’t believe you would hang out with Taco!” In all honesty, Taco tuned him out the moment he opened his mouth. Judging on how Balloon continued the game, he wasn’t listening either. “Come on, Suitcase. We can do this challenge without him. He’s never been a real friend.” Nickel said, beckoning for Suitcase and Baseball to follow him.

Balloon snorted, “As if you’ve ever been a friend to her.” He stated, placing a plus-four down on the pile. Nickel stopped in his tracks and turned around to stare at Balloon.

“Excuse me?” Nickel’s voice was as cold as ice. Balloon had forgotten what his friend used to be like in season two.

“Name one conversation you’ve held with Suitcase where you either haven’t bossed her around, ridiculed her, or flat out ignored her,” Balloon paused a moment, allowing Nickel to stare at him in shock. “Quickly.” 

“I- well- there-” Nickel sputtered with his words, before making an angry noise and storming off. Baseball glanced at Balloon and Taco, he looked almost worried for a moment before his expression sharpened and he followed after Nickel. Suitcase looked shaken, maybe he had taken it too far.

“Was he always like that?” Taco asked, placing down a yellow six.

“In season two, yeah. It’s weird seeing him like this.” Balloon sighed and placed down a red six, “He’s a lot better now, he changed a lot in season three. It’s…nice being friends with him.” Suitcase looked at the two, dumbfounded. “You can join the game if you want,” Balloon offered.

“Um,” she paused, glancing over at where Nickel had ran off, “I think I’ll just watch, thanks.” She sat down next to Balloon.

== Loop #18 ==

“And why is Taco here? She’s not in this season,” MePhone lifted an eyebrow at Definitely-Not-Taco, who was standing with her arms tucked into her shell next to the rest of The Grand Slams. Not-Taco gasped offendedly.

“Taco? Who’s that? This is uh…” Balloon stalled a second, “Hot..dog? Yes. Hotdog. She’s competed since the start. I can see where you’d get mixed up though, hotdogs and tacos have the same bun shape.” 

“Do you think I’m an id-” MePhone sighed, “You know what? Sure. Welcome to Inanimate Insanity season two.” MePhone admitted defeat. “Alright, today’s challenge will be a triathlon-”

== Loop #6 ==

Cobs pressed a button on his desk, allowing a call to be patched through. “Sir there's a package up at the front for you.” The crackly voice of the front desk lady said.

“Have it delivered to my office,” Cobs responded. That was odd. He didn’t remember ordering anything. He brushed it off, he buys things and forgets about them all the time. He continued with his work, making calls, sending emails. An intern knocked on the door. “Enter,” he called, they placed the package on his desk and left the room. 

Cobs sent one last email before turning his attention to the package. It was tied up in brown paper and a piece of twine. Old fashioned but respectable. He lightly pulled off the twine and unwrapped the paper. Beneath the wrapping was a simple cardboard box. He turned the box around for a moment, searching for where he was supposed to open it before he realized it was one of those boxes with a slip-on lid. Cobs placed the box right-side-up on his desk and slipped off the lid. Before he could react, or even blink, a tornado of glitter erupted from the box. A spinning mechanism became the eye of the storm, the whirring of its mechanisms was thunder.  It coated his desk, keyboard, and paperwork in a fine shimmer. His cup of coffee swirled with rainbow sparkles. A note fluttered onto his desk. “Eat dirt old man,” it read.  Cobs crumpled the note into a ball and threw it into the trash can.

== Loop #22 ==

“Hey Balloon-” OJ opened the door to one of the lounges, only to pause when he saw Balloon, Salt, and Pepper all sitting on couches or chairs. A TV show that he couldn’t identify was quietly playing on the lounge’s TV.

“--and he wouldn’t even read my letters!” Taco exclaimed, “Like I’m trying to apologize and he just won’t hear me out!”

Pepper nodded, “Hmh, I can’t believe it! But if he doesn’t want you in his life then you should stay out of it girl! Like, imagine if you just cut off a friend and they kept sending you texts, you wouldn’t like it.”

Taco sighed. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Thanks, Pepper.”

“Aww, it’s no problem! Anyway, have you all heard about--” OJ shut the door. He did not want to deal with whatever would result from that friend group.

== Loop #11 ==

“Alright, tod--” HOOONK, MePhone was cut off by Balloon pressing down on an airhorn. “Toda--” HONK. “T--” HONK. “Balloon!” MePhone shouted, “If you honk that airhorn again you’re disqualified from the game.” 

“Sorry,” Balloon mumbled.

“Alright, today we--” HONK. MePhone’s head whipped around to look at Balloon, but the sound didn’t come from him. “Where did--” HONK. Balloon (and many of the other contestants gathered) stifled his laughter. From behind a bush, Taco readied another air horn from her pile.

== Loop #28==

Taco bounced her leg as she sat on a stump, staring at the path leading up to the voting booth. This loop, she and Balloon had been dropped off on the first episode of Inanimate Insanity. So what did they decide to do? They swapped places. Taco acted like Balloon had done, and Balloon acted like Taco. It all led her to here, episode 11. The remaining members of the Grand Slams (Knife, Nickel, Soap, and Trophy, their interference had messed with the way the eliminations went) waited for Suitcase to finalize her vote. Taco knew how it all would go. She knew that everyone else would vote for her, and that Suitcase would vote for Nickel. She didn’t think that would change at the least.

---

Balloon had watched this challenge on TV when the episode was released, but seeing the challenge and being in it was very different. Gemory cave was dark and damp. Balloon, completely invisible except for a white bowtie, walked next to another person, completely invisible except for a black bowtie. 

“Do we even need to get Knife on our side? He doesn’t exactly like me,” Trophy whispered. Earlier in the loop, Balloon and Taco had talked about who Balloon wanted to help during the competition. Balloon didn’t want to give Suitcase or Microphone any more baggage. Trophy had a drive to win, all Balloon had to do was convince him to cheat a little. He wouldn’t call it manipulation, per se. Just a bit of…emotional persuasion.

“He saw us talking, we have to get him to ally with us or at least convince him not to snitch to MePhone,” Balloon hushed him as the two approached Knife. 

== Loop #32 ==

Taco was in more bushes. Again. She needed to stop mysteriously disappearing into bushes, leaves kept getting in her mouth. She peeked her head out of the bush momentarily, her eyes landed on Microphone walking away, a blue diary in hand. Ah, the filler episode then. Taco walked to the edge of the Perilous Forest, she wondered what they’d be doing this loop. The two of them hadn’t had an opportunity to discuss what they were planning beforehand. Balloon was sitting next to Suitcase, the Bright Lights were collecting bottle caps. It all looked the same. Balloon stood up, “Y’know what this is getting repetitive. Test Tube code twenty dash twelve!” He shouted, Test Tube made a startled noise, but her eyes lit up when she registered what Balloon had yelled.

They’d learnt about code twenty dash twelve in the second loop. It was a code word Test Tube had only kept in her mind. When they told her about her time loop predicament, she told them the code. She reasoned that if they were in a time loop, they could tell her the code and she would know -- without question -- that they were in a time loop. Balloon walked over to the bushes and grabbed Taco by her shell. He dragged her over to where Test Tube was practically exploding from excitement. 

“Ow ow ow -- Stop dragging me,” Taco complained.

“Nope, last time we tried to exit the loop you got another prank idea, we’re going back to the original timeline.”

“The messing with people was your idea in the first place!”

Balloon paused, by now the other contestants were staring at the two with faces of shock, confusion, anger, or a mix of the three.

“I plead the fifth,” Balloon responded, he let go of Taco. 

Paintbrush sputtered for a second, “Why is Taco here?” 

“Time loop,” the second-place winner deadpanned.

“You’re seriously expecting us to believe that, what are you actually up to?” They demanded. 

Test Tube pulled out a clipboard. “Time loop!” she energetically exclaimed.

---

Test Tube practically dragged the two of them down to her ‘secret’ lab, she pulled out a whiteboard and sat them down in two chairs. “I’ve been theorizing the possibility of time loops for a while,” she drew a line on the whiteboard, “Imagine this is our timeline,” she pointed at the line. “This is the present,” she drew a dot in the middle of the line, “this is the past,” she drew a dot at the left end of the line, “and this is the future.” She drew a final dot at the right end of the line. “Now, for a reason I’ve yet to discover, time can fold in on itself,” She drew a second diagram below the first diagram, this one had a circle at the start which trailed off into a line. The future dot was in the same place but the past and present dots were now touching. “And possibly send someone back.” She finished her sentence. “You travel through this loop, but when you get near the future,” she pointed to the future dot, “it sends you back to the start because the future has yet to be determined in the original timeline. Do you get it?”

“Yes…and no,” Taco said, she always had been good at math, not science. 

“Wonderful because you don’t have to! I’ve been working on a time-traveling device and I could modify it to flatten out the loop.”

“And that’ll fix everything?” Balloon asked.

“Hypothetically!” 

---

“You’re sure that this will work?” Taco stared at the swirling green portal. 

“At least eighty-seven point four percent sure, give or take one or two percent. Just as long as you don’t accidentally get disintegrated,” Test Tube confirmed. 

“Oh, ok…wait what--” Before either of them could register what the scientist had said, they were pushed into the portal.

== Loop #0 ==

“--told you not to touch anything,” Taco blinked. She was standing in a lab, one that appeared very similar to the one she had just exited. She scanned through her memories. Right, Balloon, the loop, ah, yes. She had been in Test Tube’s lab before the loop started. That explained…quite a lot. She looked around the room, and spotted Balloon by the entrance to the lab, she waved at him and he waved back. “Hello?” Test Tube snapped her fingers in front of Taco’s face, “Are you even listening?”

“Oh- erm, I believe I just exited a time loop?” She didn’t even know if what she experienced was even real, “Uh, code twenty dash twelve?” Test Tube stared at her for a moment, her mouth drawn into a thin grimace.

“Hmm, not what I wanted that machine to do,” she motioned to the button Taco’s finger had been hovering over. Taco quickly pulled back her hand. “I’ll have to make some adjustments. Now, please exit my lab before you mess with anything else!” Test Tube pushed Taco and Balloon out the double doors.

Chapter Text

Test Tube had never been good with emotions. She was awkward at times, insensitive at others, and overall found it difficult to connect with other people. She found a home with the Bright Lights after she joined Inanimate Insanity. Sure it kept being interrupted by her teammates getting eliminated one by one, but they were still her closest friends. 

Now, she sat in her lab beneath Hotel OJ, tapping her foot against the tile floor. There wasn’t anything for her to do.

Tap tap tap. 

She had already finished all her current projects. 

Tap tap tap. 

She successfully replaced all Meeple technology in the Hotel in favor of her own tech, all without OJ noticing (or if he did notice, he didn’t point it out). 

Tap tap tap. 

She didn’t have any ideas for new projects. 

Tap tap tap. 

She was restless.

Test Tube stared up at the screens in front of her, each monitor displayed a different room in the hotel, as well as the area around it. After realizing how easily someone could break in, she got OJ’s permission to set up cameras for added surveillance. OJ could access the feed from his phone, but Test Tube had her own screens set up in the lab. Just in case.

The droning hum of electricity provided a distraction from her thoughts as she looked at everyone milling about. OJ and Bomb held a conversation in the kitchen while the former waited for his food to heat up in the microwave. 

Knife and Pickle silently sat in the living room, despite the fact they were sitting next to eachother, Pickle would send something to Knife using his phone and would look up to see Knife’s reaction. Usually laughter. 

Silver Spoon, Candle, Bowbot, and Yin-Yang were holding a tea party in the gardens. Candle poured more tea into Bowbot’s cup. Yang frowned as he was forced into having good table manners. Yin seemed at ease. Silver Spoon talked about the current gossip circulating the hotel, most likely given to him via Cabby.

Her eyes flickered from one screen to another. Each exchange made her think.

Every person in this hotel were once strangers to each other. However, they had all shared one (or three, in the case of some) experience.

The show.

The competition was fun at the best of times and severely traumatizing at the worst, but it had been the one thing that had pulled everyone together. The same string, the same glue, the same tape. How did any of these relationships form? She asked herself. What are the results of them? How do they affect her friends in their day-to-day lives? Her fingers became antsy, she needed to type something, to write down this new theory. She pushed her chair away from the monitoring desk and rolled over to her laptop.

She knew what she was going to do today.

---

Test Tube recruited Fan (her unofficial lab assistant and most trusted companion) to assist her in this endeavor.

“Just so we’re on the same page, you want to meddle with the personal relationships of our friends?” He questioned.

She paused, “Yes.”

Fan grinned, “Wonderful, where do I sign up?”

She spent a week collecting data from a controlled environment (The Hotel), where she didn’t interfere at all (despite wanting to). Fan and her took note of as many interactions as they could, from grand confessions of love (Salt had performed three that week, which was half of her average) to someone nodding at someone else in the hallway.

---

Interaction #3585

Notable Subjects Included: N, K, BA, BB, 

Notes

• Subjects N, K, & BB were playing a racing game on the TV in the living room.
• Subject BA enters, strikes up friendly banter with Subject N.
• K and BB get tense, possibly awaiting argument? Or confrontation between N & BA?
• BA asks to join the game.
• N moves over on the couch to accommodate (despite other seats being available.)
• BA wipes the floor with other subjects.
• BA & N break out in an affable squabble, K & BB remain confused

---

Interaction #295

Notable Subjects Included: PI, TA

Notes

• Subject TA walked in lounge
• TA saw Subject PI
• TA walked out of lounge

---

Interaction #988

Notable Subjects Included: O, ST, PE, PA

Notes

• Subjects O & PA were sitting in kitchen, holding conversation noted in #987
• Subject ST & PE interrupted their conversation with a love ballad sung by ST, PE performed backup vocals.
• Objectively, it was a very good performance.
• O & PA seemed unimpressed, uncomfortable, or both.
• PE seemed tired of the song and dance (literally).
• PE looked jealous (? Assistant notes “love triangle” despite the lack of a triangle, merely a very weird line.)

---

Interaction #1523

Notable Subjects Included: K, TR

• Subjects K and TR saw each other in the hallway.
• Mutual hostility nonverbally stated.
• K & TR passed each other in the hallway.
• No conversation was started.

---

Interaction #5699

Notable Subjects Include: BO, Cat found outside hotel, O

Notes

• Subject BO found a cat outside the Hotel.
• Subject brought cat inside.
• He managed to hide it for two days before it was found by O.
• BO proceeded to beg O to keep cat.
• Cat is now a resident of Hotel OJ.

---

The control portion of her study went smoothly. Now, to the first experiment.

---

Results of Experiment #1, where certain subjects were to be forced to be in the same room as eachother for a prolonged period of time (2 hours). 

Letters were delivered to subjects for them to meet in one of three lounge areas at a certain time. When both subjects arrived in the room, the doors would close and lock. Refreshments are provided. A camera is set up in each lounge, and Assistant (along with subject BB, who we convinced to assist us) is stationed outside in case any altercations or other unforeseen problems occur. After two hours, the doors will unlock and the subjects will be free to leave.

Group 1 - Subjects ST & O

Notes:

• Subject O arrived at 10:23, seven minutes before the arranged time (10:30).
• Subject ST arrived at 10:28, two minutes before the arranged time.
• Subject O visibly became tired upon seeing ST.
• Opposingly, ST brightened upon seeing O.
• Once O figured out that the door was locked, he blamed ST
• ST waved off the accusation and showed the letter she received.
• O tries to get the attention of any person outside.
• There is no response.
• O decides to wait, saying that someone will realize the two are missing at some point and come looking for them
• His conclusion would be reasonable if the Lead Researcher did not inform subjects PA and PE about this specific experiment ahead of time.
• Subject O sat down on one of the couches
• ST sat next to him, O scooted further from her
• ST suggests this to be something like a date.
• O shuts her down immediately.
• ST and O sit in awkward silence
• O attempts to check his phone
• No service, Lead Researcher shut down his (and ST’s) signal. Sorry O.
• ST makes more attempts of making the room more date-like
• These attempts include:
• Setting out a tablecloth on the coffee table (where she found the tablecloth remains unknown)
• Setting out food, drink, etc on the table
• Sitting across from Subject O, as if they were in a restaurant
• Subject O is visibly getting more and more annoyed with ST
• The following conversation occurred:
• Subject ST: “Listen, if we’re like, stuck here then we might as well talk! What kind o-”
• Subject O: “Salt, I’m gay.”
• The two then sat in silence for a moment 
• Subject ST proceeded to hide her face in her hands (looking very embarrassed) and furiously apologize.
• O continued, saying: “It’s fine. It’s just that shouldn’t be the thing that made you back off. I’ve said that I don’t like you multiple times and you should’ve taken that no as an answer before any of this.”
• ST: “Right, right, I’m really sorry OJ, you’re right.”
• The remaining time was largely uneventful, the two of them ate lunch separately and managed to get the TV in the lounge working. They watched a show of shared interest.
• Little to no conversation was made during this time, Subject ST still appeared to be embarrassed 
• Doors opened at 12:30, the two parted ways.

Results:

• Being kept in a room together forced the two to communicate
• Miscommunication error solved
• Notes: Talk to Subject ST about boundaries
• Neutral relationship formed

Group 2 -  Subjects TR, K

• Subject K arrived on time (11:30) 
• Subject TR arrived eleven minutes later (11:41) than the arranged time (11:30).
• Upon seeing eachother, TR turned around and attempted to walk back out the door.
• He instead hit the closed door
• K kept in his laughter, TR grumbled but did not start any conversation
• They sat on opposite sides of the room for an hour before Subject TR said something.
• He said, quote “Someone must’ve set this shit up, so I’m--” he seemed to be unable to say the next word for a moment, “Sorry for blackmailing you. It was bad and I shouldn’t  have done it.” Lead Researcher would like to note that he sounded like he was reading from a script.
• To which Subject K responded with “Ok? An apology doesn’t change the fact that you hurt me. I don’t care if this sounds wimpy, I don’t care what you think of me, but you made me feel ashamed of the things I liked when I had literally no reason to be. You were a horrible person to me and I don’t have to forgive you for any of it.”
• The two sat in silence for the time remaining, Subject K was closest to the door and first to leave when it unlocked at 1:30.

Results:

• Despite being in the same situation as group 1, communication did occur.
• Notes: N/A
• No change in relationship.

Group 3* - Subjects PI & TA

*It is to note that Subject TA has previously talked and apologized to Subject PI, to which PI said he needed time to think about her apology before accepting it.

• Subject TA arrived on time (2:00)
• PI ran into the room four minutes late (2:04)
• TA and PI stared at eachother for exactly 4.3 seconds before PI coughed awkwardly and attempted to exit, upon seeing the room was locked, he frowned and began to search around the room.
• TA sat on one of the chairs next to the couch.
• PI found a stack of old DVDs, as well as a console, controllers, and some games that go along with it. He seemed uninterested in the DVDs, (future note: all the DVDs were bad bootlegs of good movies), but easily set up the console, he picked a game, sat on the couch, and began to play.
• The two sat there for 42 minutes, silent except for the sounds of the TV (occasionally subject TA would open her mouth in an attempt to say something before closing it)
• Subject PI glanced over at TA, he paused his game and thought for a second, before handing a second controller to her.
• Subject TA hesitated but took the controller.
• The two continued to play the game for the remaining time, occasional conversations were brought up, none to note.
• Subjects stayed an extra nineteen before they realized the door was unlocked.

Results: 

• Communication occurred through body language and shared time, rather than verbal conversations.
• Notes: Look further into body language and nonverbal cues.
• Neutral to positive relationship formed

---

Test Tube rewound the footage again. She typed out more notes onto her computer, yawned, looked up at the footage, backtracked to correct spelling mistakes, back to the footage. She blinked blearily.

“Test Tube? Are you down here?” Fan walked through the doors of the laboratory, he spotted Test Tube at her desk. He moved some papers to the side and placed a cup of tea on a coaster. “It’s one in the morning, when was the last time you slept?” Test Tube checked the clock on her computer, 1:28. She must’ve lost track of time again. Ah, so is the life of a scientist. 

“I took a nap this afternoon, but I should still get up to my room to sleep.” Test Tube closed the tabs on her computer and powered it off. She picked up the tea and took a sip, “Thanks, Fan.” 

---

“Welcome everyone to Fan’s Fantastic Features!” Fan began his intro, “we have a big group of people this time around, so everyone give it up for Nickel, Test Tube, Knife, and -- back from Purgatory Mansion -- Apple!” The crowd Test Tube pulled from a different dimension went wild, whooping, cheering, and hollering. “Also a big shoutout to our temporary cameraperson while Test Tube is up here competing, Paintbrush!” The cheering started up again. Paintbrush waved to the crowd, looking very appreciative of the recognition. Fan cleared his throat. “Today’s episode will be a bit similar to a previous episode where Trophy and Box competed together on the quiz segment. Though, instead of answering questions about a bunch of different things, you all have to answer a bunch of questions about one thing! Or rather, one person.” Fan smirked. “Bring em’ in, Lightbulb!”

Paintbrush turned the camera towards the now-open door, where Lightbulb stood. She made a grand gesture towards the door, where Balloon, Cabby, Suitcase, and Marshmallow walked in (or rolled, in Cabby’s case), all with varying reactions. Lightbulb directed them towards three stools next to Fan’s desk. 

“Some of you viewers at home may already see where this is going. For those of you who don’t, the pairs will be…” he paused for a drumroll that Lightbulb played from her phone, “Apple and Marshmallow, also known as Team Candy Apple. Nickel and Balloon, Team 2818.” 

Nickel pulled a face of confusion at the team name, Test Tube leaned over to him and whispered “It’s the atomic numbers of nickel and helium on the periodic table.” The explanation did not aid in his confusion.

Fan continued, “Test Tube and Cabby, Team Database. And last but not least, Knife and Suitcase, Team Scabbard.” The audience resumed their applause. “The way this is gonna work is that you buzz in when I finish saying the question, if you get it right you get a point, if you get it wrong someone else can buzz in and take the point instead. Alright!” Fan shuffled a set of flashcards, “The first question is--”

“Hold on a second!” Cabby interjected, “This is hardly fair, Test Tube hardly knows me outside of the game, or at all, really. And Knife and Suitcase may be friends, but not like Apple and Marshmallow, they live together for creator’s sake!”

Fan stuttered a moment, “Yes, uh that’s--” he looked over at Test Tube for assistance, she shrugged as a bead of sweat dripped from her glass, “part of the challenge?” Cabby narrowed her eyes at him. 

Fan coughed, “Anyway, the first question is: who is your pair’s favorite person?”

A buzz rang out from the podiums when Knife hit his button before anyone else could, “No one, she doesn’t wanna make anyone feel bad.”

“Correct! One point to Team Scabbard. Second question, what’s your partner’s favorite genre of music?”

Nickel buzzed in, “Classical!” He shouted.

“Correct! One point to 2818! Next question…”

---

“Least favorite food?”

“Soup!”

“Correct!”

---

“Favorite challenge from Inanimate Insanity?”

“Trick question, whatever trick means, none of them!”

“Correct!”

---

“Favorite thing to do in the hotel?”

“Watching Cheesy’s comedy skits or the theatre productions.”

“Exactly!”

---

“Favorite pastime?”

“Uh…gathering information?”

“Close enough!”

---

“Deepest secret?”

“Broke into the hotel! Multiple times!”

“That’s a crime, I admit to nothing--”

“Correct!”

---

“Least favorite challenge?”

“The gorge?”

“Incorrect! It was the Crappy Cliff.”

---

“How many alliance members did they have?”

“Three.”

“Right on the mark!”

---

“Allow me to announce our winners! In fourth place, we have Team Database, with 7 points. In third place, we have Team Scabbard, with 18 points. In second, Team 2818 with 22 points. And last but certainly not least, first place goes to Team Candy Apple! With a record of 23 points!” A round of applause broke out from the audience. “Thank you all for joining us today on this episode of Fan’s Fantastic Features! We’ll see you next time!” He smiled into the camera for a second, before saying “Alright cut,” Paintbrush pressed a button on the side of the camera.

---

Suitcase walked around the gardens of the hotel. She didn’t know who maintained it, or who planted any of the flowers in the first place, but she was grateful for it. She sat down on a cushioned bench planted near the back of the garden. It was hidden enough by the trees and flowers that it was hard to spot. A soft breeze whistled through, stirring up leaves and making the flowers sway in the wind. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. In and out. She reopened her eyes and stared up into the clear blue sky, watching as clouds passed.

She allowed her thoughts to wander. She hoped for no season four, after everything that’s happened, she just wants a break. At least she has a reason to not participate if there is one. She already won once, she doesn’t need to win again. No, that shouldn’t be her reason. Her reason is that she doesn’t want to be in another season. That’s all the motivation she needs. 

She thought about her friends in the hotel, Balloon, Knife, Microphone, the list goes on. Recently she’s gotten to know the Cherries more, she’s even helped out with their nice pranks a few times. 

She was happy that Nickel was being kinder. She really was! He was even friends with Balloon now. But she couldn’t help but feel…she wouldn’t say frustrated. Bitter, maybe. He’s making such an effort now, but he didn’t before. He didn’t listen to her. He didn’t put in any effort. She is happy, if not a bit confused, that he and Balloon are friends. She just hopes that he doesn’t throw away this second chance.

---

Cabby watched from afar as Test Tube and Fan walked away from the recording room of Fan’s show. She narrowed her eyes as they talked. Something was up. Fan’s Fantastic Features was usually fairer than this. Something in her gut told her that this wasn’t just for Fan’s side show. She didn’t know what their true intentions were.

But she was going to find out.

---

The last experiment was a simple interview of everyone in the hotel. Yes, simple. Test Tube grimaced. She had sent an online form in the shared groupchat. The questions were seemingly normal. Fan came up with the idea of a “who’s most likely to” format that she quite liked. But the last question was open-ended. “What are your thoughts on the people in the hotel, don’t worry, all of these responses are anonymous.” They weren’t anonymous, Test Tube was collecting all their answers.

The only problem was that their answers ranged from well-written analyses of the people around them, to, and she quotes, “they r cool ig.”

It was infuriating.

Well, she still had all the information she needed. She had it all composed, written out in an online document.

But what did it mean? She knew her question, her thesis, her main idea. “What relationships occur after being put through a gameshow, and how do they form.” And she still didn’t know the answer. 

She slumped in her chair and groaned loudly. She was stuck again. She wasn’t getting anywhere. She should take a walk.

---

Cabby watched Test Tube exit her lab, looking quite frazzled, she might add. The scientist’s lab wasn’t much of a secret anymore. Cabby had found the entrance to it while wandering the halls of the hotel when she first got there. It was still impressive. 

Cabby may be stubborn, but she has to admit Test Tube is smart. Just in a narrower field than her. 

Test Tube focused more on the STEM aspects of intelligence, while Cabby prided herself in her wide expanse of knowledge regarding numerous subjects. Jack of all trades, master of none, but always better than a master of one. 

Test Tube exited through the front doors of the hotel and Cabby followed close behind. 

Now to figure out what was going on.

---

Test Tube walked through the forest. Whenever she got stumped on a problem (not often) she took a walk outside. Spending time away from the issue gave her a new perspective, and the fresh air couldn’t hurt. This time, she seemed to have subconsciously walked to a familiar location.

A cliff, overlooking the ocean. Striped mountains of purple and green behind her.

She and Fan had sat here before, earlier in the game. They had talked while taking turns looking through a telescope. 

She sat down in the soft grass, looking up at the clouds lazily passing by overhead. A snap of a twig from behind her made her turn around. Cabby froze as they made eye contact.

“Have you been following me?” Test Tube questioned.

“What have you and Fan been plotting? You’ve been holed up in your lab day and night, not to mention the weird FFF video and OJ complaining about how he was locked in a room?” Her tone was accusatory, not necessarily angry, but firm nonetheless.

Test Tube thought for a moment. She and Cabby weren’t on…best terms. But Cabby valued wisdom and the pursuit of knowledge, just like her. 

“I’ve been working on a study,” she started, “about the mannerisms, interactions, and relationships between people. “But I can’t…I don’t know, work out a conclusion? I’ve run all these tests and collected all of this information, but I can’t put the answer into words. I know what it means, relationships are complicated blah blah, but I can’t put the feeling into words.”

Cabby rolled over next to Test Tube, the scientist had a feeling she would sit down if she could.

“Well, relationships, both good and bad, are formed through interaction. A bond is created when you first meet someone, and it only grows stronger the more and more you talk to them.”

“I know that, but the exact feeling is hard to-- illustrate.” Test Tube gasped. Of course, the solution was right there all along. She shot up from where she was sitting, Cabby rolled backward due to the force. “I got an idea! Thanks, Cabby!” She bolted off back to the hotel.

---

To conclude, relationships are difficult. They’re similar to a plant, it needs nutrients, water, sunlight. Conversations, interactions, and exchanges are these aspects. But the plant isn’t always a beneficial one. It’s as easy to grow Atropa Belladonna as it is to grow Vaccinium sect. Cyanococcus . Relationships, good and bad, take work and effort to be maintained. And it’s often the small aspects of the relationships that you overlook. A friend bringing you tea, sending you a video they think you would find funny, or even sharing the things they find interesting. Bonds are formed through mutual emotions. 

---

It’s finished. It only took hours of trying to convince Paintbrush to allow her to use their paints but it’s finished. She painted a portrait to go along with her study. Her interpretation of bonds. 

It wasn’t the best painting, she should really take some of Paintbrush’s classes, but it was hers.

And that was good enough.

Chapter Text

It had been two days since episode fourteen aired. The sun had already sunk below the horizon, nestled into the bed of mountains. It was Thursday, which meant the residents of the Hotel were having dinner together. It was a rule of the hotel since the first season. Just like ‘don’t interrupt Test Tube while she’s working’ (a recent but needed addition after the third explosion), and ‘don’t save over Pickle’s game files,’ Thursday nights are “family” dinner nights. The day had been lazy, the hours passing as if wading through molasses. One member of the hotel even wished for something interesting to happen. A poor decision on their part. 

There had been few assigned seats during these dinners. They were similar to loose rules more than anything. Like Balloon and Nickel couldn’t sit by each other unless you want at least five plates broken by the end of the day, Salt and OJ generally shouldn’t be placed next to each other, and Trophy and Tissues should be sat on opposite ends of the table so Trophy doesn’t end up strangling someone.

OJ had already finished eating and was carrying a conversation with Paintbrush, who sat next to him. Test Tube and Fan talked in hushed voices as they looked over different blueprints. From where he was sitting, OJ couldn’t see what they read. Microphone quietly talked to Soap, who nodded along. Microphone’s eyes flickered over to Pickle momentarily, she paused before picking her sentence up again. On the other side of the coin, by the far end of the table, Bomb, Yin-Yang, the Cherries, Salt, and Pepper were all locked in a food fight. Paper had attempted to mediate the fight when it started, but he quickly sat down before he got hit by anything. The fight had started when the Cherries catapulted some of their food across the table using a spoon. It hit Yin-Yang. Yang retaliated by catapulting some of his food. Unfortunately, it missed and hit Pepper. The projectiles continued to be thrown, eventually roping Salt and Bomb into the brawl. 'I should really --' OJ’s thoughts were cut off as the ground shook.

The table clattered, chairs trembled wildly, silverware and plates clinked together. A few pieces of cutlery clanged against the hardwood floor as they hit the ground around the table. The juice inside of OJ sloshed around and his vision spun with it. The picture frames bumped against the wall like an off-beat drum. A vase full of flowers shattered as it hit the floor. Several objects around him made startled yelps or gasps of surprise, OJ grabbed his chair and the table in an attempt to steady himself.

The shaking left as soon as it arrived. OJ looked around at everyone in the room. “Is everyone ok?” he asked. A chorus of “I’m fine”s, “Yeah”s, “All good”s broke out. 

“Was that an earthquake?” Pepper asked, at some point during the shaking she had grabbed Salt’s hand. OJ did a quick headcount ‘--Cherries…Microphone…Trophy,’ everyone was still there.

“It wouldn’t be out of the question,” Test Tube began, “The island is placed over a few fault lines, it’s how the mountains formed, and gosh, the geography of this island seems virtually impossible! I mean mountains, a desert, forests, canyons, and a glacier all placed on or near this island! It’s very interesting-- I’m rambling. We should check outside for da--” She ran over to one of the windows and looked outside. Her eyes widened and her sentence trailed off “--mages.” 

“What’s wrong?” OJ asked. 

“We need to go.”

“What?”

Test Tube turned to face the group, “Not to-- y’know start a panic or anything but there is a spaceship outside--” the residents of the hotel were already cramming around the windows before she could finish her sentence. Some of the shorter objects pushed and shoved to the front of the crowd, fighting to be able to look out the window at the supposed spaceship. OJ squeezed through the crowd. He made it to the front just in time to see a hatch open up near the bottom of the gigantic spacecraft. A ramp lowered down to the ground, kicking up dust. A silhouette exited, walking down the ramp followed by a group of other objects. They walked until they were out of the window’s view. There was a knock on the door moments later. Everyone’s heads snapped over to look at it.

“OJ don’t you dare answer that,” Test Tube stated, pointing at the hotel manager. OJ left the dining room and looked down the hall.

“We can at least see what they want--”

“OJ don’t,” Test Tube hissed.

OJ looked over at the door.

“OJ!”

OJ opened the door. In hindsight, he should’ve listened to Test Tube. Of course, the door would have been broken down anyway if they had not answered and the resulting events wouldn’t have changed.

“Is this the OJ residence?” OJ hadn’t met Cobs in person before. He knew of the man, of course, Meeple was a big company. The guy seemed nice, up until the season one finale. None of the season one competitors had liked him or Meeple after that. His disdain for the man only grew when he watched the eighth episode of season two with everyone else in the hotel. “Fake fights.” “Product placement.” What a joke. Bow wouldn’t have died if the fights were fake.

The hotel manager grit his teeth and placed a convincing smile on his face. “It is, why do you ask?” He glanced over at the spaceship behind him, he had to stop himself from gawking. The view from the window didn’t do it justice. It was colossal. He’d say it was about as big as his hotel.

“Wonderful! I’m Cobs, Steve Cobs. Founder of Meeple, I’d be surprised if you hadn’t heard of me. I’m looking for one Fan and Test Tube. I have a…business proposition for the both of them.” OJ glanced over at Fan and Test Tube. The two of them were trying to usher everyone through the hallways and down a passageway that OJ had not remembered implementing into the hotel. Fan looked up at OJ and shook his head vigorously. 

“Oh sorry, you just missed them. When they come back I can tell them you were here though, so sorry,” he went to shut the door, but it stopped when it hit Cobs’s foot.

“We could’ve done this the easy way. I know they’re here.”

“Sir if you don’t leave immediately I’ll be forced to call authorities.” This was a bluff, of course. The nearest police station was far far away from the island. It would take at least an hour for them to arrive. Cobs sighed and moved his foot out of the door.

“You leave me no choi-” OJ slammed the door in Cobs’ face before he could finish his sentence. He then turned to the group of objects peeking out from the dining room.

“Yeah we should go,” OJ concluded as he walked to join the small crowd. Test Tube motioned to the doorframe-that-wasn’t-there-before in the wall.

“That'll lead us to my laboratory under the Hotel--”

“Your what?”

“--We should be safe there, he won’t know about it--” with a mighty crack, the front door skidded down the hallway like a bobsled. A shadow stretched through the corridor as a MePhone model OJ hadn’t seen before stepped into the doorframe. Outlined by the light of the setting sun, a bright red X was slashed across his screen.

“MePhoneX, my new state-of-the-art creation. Capable of lifting five tons of weight, as fast as a bullet, and has a year-long warranty,” Cobs gloated (now, of course, this was completely false advertising, but the hotel’s residents didn’t need to know that), “We could’ve done this the easy way.” One of the MePhoneXs zipped over to the door in the wall, he slowly closed it with a clawed hand that reminded OJ of a Tego set. “But you’ve forced my hand,” Cobs remorsefully shook his head, like a parent who caught their kid’s hand in the cookie jar. “Aim to capture, not kill. We can’t let any of them be able to warn Four when they’re recovered,” he commanded in a steely voice, before turning towards the door and marching out. 

The MePhone X models swarmed the hotel, forcing the group of objects to retreat back into the dining room. 

---

The sky split open on a Thursday. 'What a horrible day for the world to end,' thought Marshmallow as she stared out the window of Purgatory Mansion. The sunset dripped from glistening gold to vibrant pink as the ground shook beneath her feet. A space shuttle landed in the yard, kicking up dirt and dust and completely ruining the garden she worked so hard on. Apple ran over to where Marshmallow was standing in the foyer, Bow and Dough floating close behind. “Marsh, are you okay? The ground shook and I heard a crash,” Apple frantically asked. Marshmallow looked over at the glass bottle that had shattered when it hit the floor, and the old painting on the floor, now complete with a broken frame.

“Yeah,” she paused. “Yeah I’m fine, but something landed outside.”

Bow gasped “Is it a meteor?”

“Huh--” Apple’s reaction was cut off as the doors to the mansion flung open. A swarm of MePhone models that didn’t look at all like their old host swarmed the haunted building. Apple reacted before Marshmallow did, she grabbed her hand and the two dashed into a room that branched off from the foyer.

“Oh you guys aren’t Martians,” Bow’s disappointed voice echoed through the empty walls of the mansion. One of the MePhones took a swipe at Marshmallow as Apple led her to the side room. “Oh, you did not just do that,” Bow’s voice warped as she spoke. She flew into the body of the MePhone model, and he began wildly swinging his arms around, cracking the screens of multiple other phones around him. Apple shut the door to the room before the scene could continue. Marshmallow pushed a chair over to the door, barricading it.

“What was that?” Apple shouted.

“I don’t know but it’s nothing good, a few episodes after you were eliminated we went up to Meeple HQ, I think these are some of Cobs’ MePhones.”

“Hey guys,” both of the girls screamed as Dough floated through the barricaded door. “Bow’s got the robo-dudes covered, so I thought that I could lead you through the passageways in the mansion--”

“There are secret passageways in the mansion and you never told us?”

“I thought you knew?”

“What’s a passageway?”

A bang on the door made Marshmallow’s heart skip a beat. “Where’s the passageway?” She frantically asked.

“Yeah just pull on that torch there,”

---

Balloon stumbled as he took a step away from the impending army of MePhoneX models. He stood near the back of the crowd. His hands shook as his eyes darted around the room, 'Run run move your legs and run,' his thoughts screamed at him. He looked over at the dining table, at the abandoned plates and silverware. 'Weapon? Go fight them! Run! Defend your friends!' Chaos broke out, a MePhoneX model grabbed at OJ before Microphone threw a chair at it. Trophy punched one of the phones right in the screen and Balloon heard a sickly crack and a hiss of pain. The Cherries ducked below the crowd of MePhones, sprinting past them and only pausing momentarily to turn around and stick out his tongue at them mockingly. 

A silvery gleam under the table caught Balloon's attention.

He scrambled past the other objects and ducked under a plate thrown by Pepper. He slid under the table and looked at the item on the floor. A steak knife. Cobs’ words echoed through his head "We can’t let any of them be able to warn Four when they’re recovered." He picked up the knife in trembling hands. 'Someone’s gonna call me a coward, aren’t they?' Balloon thought grimly. “O’ happy dagger, this is thy sheath,” he quoted. 

The pop wasn’t heard amid the fighting.

---

“Status report?” Steve Cobs sat at his desk in the spaceship, he placed the file he was looking at back in the drawer. A Newton’s cradle on the wooden desk clicked together. 

“Almost all of the prisoners have been detained, sir.” Clack clack clack.

“Almost?” Clack clack clack.

“Four are missing.” Clack clack clack.

“Four?” Cobs grit his teeth, “They’re weak objects. How could you be missing four of them?” Clack clack clack.

“The apple and marshmallow have evaded capture with the help of two poltergeists. The balloon is missing and--” Clack clack clack.

“Poltergeists? Do you find me to be a fool? Ghosts aren’t real,” the CEO sighed and spun his chair around. He looked out the window behind him. “Your failure…disappoints me. But we’ll make due, we already have enough of them rounded up.” Clack clack clack.

---

Fan woke up with a groan.

“Ugh,” he muttered, he looked around to find he was in a bleak prison-like cell. Instead of bars, though, there was a glass-like wall in front of the entrance. He wasn’t alone, either. Cheesy was standing there, his face knit together in concern. “Where…are we?” Fan asked, the comedian shrugged and helped him to his feet.

“Fan?” The two jumped as a voice rang out from the cell next to them.

“Test Tube?” 

Another voice butted in, “Great, happy little reunion out of the way, now can someone explain what in Creator’s name is going on?” Trophy, Fan recognized his voice too, shouted.

“Hell if I know!” Cheesy responded, “I don’t even know who this corn guy is!”

“He’s Steve Cobs, founder and CEO of Meeple industries, and creator of the MePhone,” Test Tube informed, “He doesn’t exactly…like us after we stole his stuff and destroyed some of his MePhones during episode eight. And he--” Test Tube was cut off when a door at the end of the hall swished open. Speak of the devil, Cobs slowly walked through, flanked by two MePhoneXs, the heels of his shoes clicked with every step.

He stopped in front of Fan and Cheesy’s cell and stared through the glass-looking wall. Fan bristled at his gaze, leveling a glare at him.

“Where is the egg?” Cobs asked, Fan’s eyes widened and he let out a gasp, but Cheesy, well, Cheesy snorted with laughter.

“Are you serious? You can’t just walk in here all intimidating and lead with--” Cheesy adjusted his voice to a comically low pitch“--‘Where is the egg?’ You gotta be yolking me.” He accentuated the pun with a knee slap. Fan looked at him, utterly baffled. “You ruin your terri-frying entrance by using such a corny line?” Cobs glanced at the comedian, an unamused look in his eye. “Jeez, tough crowd? You’re really egg-noring me? And here I thought you’d be all ears.” 

Cobs continued as if he was never interrupted, “I don’t have time for this…” he vaguely motioned towards Cheesy, “nonsense. Tell me where you hid it.”

Fan scoffed, “You just kidnapped me and my friends,” he motioned to the cell next to his where Test Tube was being held, “and you expect me to willingly put the egg in danger? Yeah, no dice.”

Cobs tsked, “I just want to help the world prosper, Fan. I’m doing this for the betterment of us all,” The CEO’s voice was calm, so saccharinely sweet that Fan felt nausea grow in the pit of his stomach.

“You only care about the “prosperity” of yourself and your company!” Fan raised his voice, even if it cracked a little, “You’d kidnap innocent children and destroy their home just to further your dumb goals.” Cheesy gasped and looked between Fan and Cobs.

If Cobs was affected by Fan’s words, it didn’t show on his face. “How about we make a deal?” He offered, outstretching a hand, “You give me the egg, and I’ll leave and won’t bother you or your little friends ever again.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t. I don’t have the egg anymore, and even if I did, I wouldn’t give them to you.” 

“You what?”

---

Balloon cracked open an eye. He let out a sigh of relief when his vision was met with the green trees and grass of the challenge area. 

“Alright you’re alive again, now shoo,” Balloon turned around to see MePhone4 waving him off. The final four stood not too far behind him.  'Alright Balloon,' he thought to himself, 'go about this correctly. Don’t cause a panic, just calmly tell them about Cobs, the earthquake, and the attack.'

“The hotel is being attacked!” He blurted out. 

---

Apple kept a steady grip on Marshmallow’s hand as Dough led the two of them through the secret passageways of Purgatory Mansion. Marshmallow’s heart provided a quick, steady beat. Though she couldn’t tell if it was from the lasting adrenaline or from the hand that held hers. “Alright, those tunnels over there lead out to the perilous forest, that one leads to a storage room, those go to an underground super-secret bunker.” The perilous forest? Isn’t that…near the contestant grounds?

If these things were attacking them, then they might’ve gone for her friends too. Apple seemed to have the same idea as her. 

“Do you think we should warn them? Whatever warn means,” Apple asked, she squeezed Marshmallow’s hand.

Marshmallow paused, then squeezed back. “It would be nice to see them again.”

---

Just keep talking. Keep talking and he’ll be focused on you. Don’t draw attention to Fan or Test Tube or Trophy or anyone else. Just keep talking. 

Cheesy didn’t know what was going on. He woke up in a cold, bleak, cell with a splitting headache, and he didn’t have a clue about anything. He was just the jokester. The class clown. The comedic relief.

So when Fan was practically threatened by this hoity-toity business schmuck, he ran his mouth. 

Cheesy didn’t fight, flight, freeze, or fawn when he stood fear in the face. 

He just turned into an idiot.

He had the fool response, if you will.

So what? He had all these corn puns saved up, all these egg puns and technology puns memorized. Why not use them? He didn’t spare a glance at Fan, by now Cobs was focused on him. 

Mostly focused on making him shut up. 

He’s dealt with all of Trophy’s heckling before, this guy was hardly scornful. Hey, he should use that one.

“And so then I said, aw shucks--”

---

“What do you mean the hotel is being attacked?” MePhone asked, the fear and concern on his face mixed together into a worried blend.

“There was an earthquake, and then Test Tube saw a spaceship outside the window--” Balloon explained, MePhone’s eyes widened. “And-- and then Cobs showed up with a bunch of new MePhone models!” MePhone froze. The final four looked between each other, sharing worried glances. Suitcase walked over to Balloon.

“Is everyone else ok?” Lightbulb asked.

“I think they’re fine, I didn’t-- Cobs told the MePhones not to kill anyone.” Balloon said. Knife frowned.

“So how did--” Knife was cut off by MePhone4.

“We have to go help them,” he stated.

---

“What is he doing over there?” Test Tube hissed to Trophy. The golden cup leaned over as far as he could to look into the hallway. He only saw a glimpse of Cobs and his two MePhone escorts. He made the mistake of punching his fist against the glass-like wall. He hissed in pain and recoiled his hand, immediately regretting it as the jostling only made the pain flare up from a manageable sting to a sharpened knife. A few dark spots swam at the corners of his vision. He blinked them away.

He’d punched straight through one of the MePhoneXs earlier (in reality, he only cracked his screen until the phone wasn’t functional, but I wouldn’t tell him that if I were you.) and he quickly regretted doing that too. Now his hand was injured and some of his fingers didn’t look like they were in a natural position.

Trophy squinted past the barrier. “I think…he’s buying time?” He glanced over at Test Tube, then at the glassy wall. “Do your…I dunno, nerd thing?”

“I resent that statement,” Test Tube went to work.

---

Microphone paced around her cell. What was she going to do? What was she going to do? Could she even do anything? What was Cobs’ plan? Did it have to do with the aliens that she and -- that she saw on the spaceship in episode fourteen?

“Microphone calm down, your stress is making me stressed, and that just makes my condishawn worse,” Tissues stated. Yeah, and she was stuck in this cell with Tissues. 

She sat down against the wall. Just calm down. Think of an angle. How could she get out of this? How could she get her friends out of this? She looked over at the forcefield protecting the entrance, it was proven to be a forcefield when she walked straight into it. 

Could she find a way to disable it? No, she wasn’t good at technology, Test Tube could probably take the thing down without breaking a sweat. She couldn’t break it down, she wasn’t strong enough. She could…yell at it? Oh who is she kidding, that would never work. She’s not smart. She’s not strong. She’s just an unstable--

Wildcard.

Microphone’s eyes widened.

There was still one person on the outside she could talk to. 

She wasn’t just going to come crawling back to her at the first sign of trouble. 

But this wasn’t any other trouble, their lives could be at stake.

She curled up, knees against her power button, head in the palm of her hands. A hand was placed on her shoulder, and she looked over to see that Tissues had moved over to sit next to her.

“Oh come on, Mic,” his voice was softer as he comforted her, “We’ll be fine, I’m sure we’ll find a way out of here somehow.” 

“Yeah.”

She reached for the knob on her back.

“We will.”

Chapter Text

Apple didn’t let go of Marshmallow’s hand when they got into the Perilous Forest, and Marshmallow wasn’t going to be the one to point it out.

Leaves crunched beneath their feet. They had to leave Dough back in Purgatory Mansion, neither him nor Bow could follow them outside it, they were lucky the ghosts had access to the passageways at all. 

The tree branches swayed in the wind, the leaves scraping together. They quickened their pace through the forest, not wanting to linger for any longer than they had to. Marshmallow let out a breath of relief when they breached the treeline and arrived in the clearing of the contestant grounds. 

It was still. A wind swept through the clearing, Marshmallow and Apple continued walking. Their eyes darted around the grounds, searching for any contestants.

“Do you think they were taken?” Apple muttered.

“I hope not.”

---

The conversation had already devolved into bickering. 

“We can’t do anything without a plan,” Knife shouted.

“Guys?” Suitcase attempted to get everyone’s attention.

“We can’t just leave them there!” Baseball argued.

“Guys,” her expression dropped, obviously she wasn’t getting anywhere like this.

“I never said that, we’re not leaving them but we can’t go in without a plan when Cobs has a whole army of MePhones.”

“Quiet!” Suitcase shouted. The arguing ground to a halt. She stood on top of Balloon’s shoulders as he held onto her ankles to keep her from falling. “We’re not getting anywhere arguing like this. Knife is right, we have to create a plan. There’s only six of us-- where’s MePhone?”

---

He was running out of puns. Cheesy would never say that out loud, of course.

He wouldn’t say that he was bad at making them up on the spot, either. He could be creative…sometimes. Ok, improv wasn’t his strong suit, but he’s been managing. On the plus side, Cobs looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. 

So he made another joke. Y’know. Push him over the edge a little. 

Well, the push turned into a shove.

Because, as previously stated, Cheesy turned into an idiot at the first sign of a threat.

The next events happened in a blur, merely a second of existence. But he recognized at least two things after.

Cheesy heard a snap.

And a sharp spike of pain stabbed through his arm. 

His vision swam. Unconsciousness danced at the edge of his peripherals, taunting him. His nerves were aflame, they snapped and burned. Bile rose in the back of his mouth, stinging his tongue. A small cry of pain tore itself from his lungs.

He stumbled back, taking in a desperate gasp of air that only made his head spin. 

Fan yelled, and a hand steadied him. 

“Now,” Cobs’ voice pierced through the static building in his ears, “Unless you want him to have a broken leg too, then you’ll come with me and we’ll further discuss the whereabouts of the egg.”

A heavy pause hung in the air.

“Fine.” Fan spat.

---

Microphone tuned out the continuous hum of electricity and Tissues’ ramblings. The noise sounded far away, as if she was listening to it underwater.

Instead, a soft static blanketed her ears.

“Taco?” She whispered, hoping Tissues wouldn’t end up questioning her about any of this.

”Mic? Oh Mic you’re okay. I felt the shaking and the hotel was overrun with machines and-- I am so sorry. I pushed you too hard, I didn’t think about what you wanted or how you felt. I was so focused on winning--”

“Just-- quit it. I know, I read the letters you sent. It’s just, you do these things and you recognize they’re wrong and then you don’t change.” She breathed a sigh, “We can talk about this later. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I need your help.”

---

They didn’t split up. Lightbulb knew horror movies and the number one rule is to not split up when someone goes missing and you have to search for them.

“Lightbulb?” A familiar voice made her turn around.

“Marsh!” Lightbulb ran over to her friend and former teammate, scooping her and Apple up in a hug. “What happened? Where have you been?” She had been worried when Marshmallow disappeared, but she knew her friend and she knew how well she could handle herself on her own. The three other finalists (plus Balloon), walked over, relieved to see at least two of their missing friends.

“It’s a long story, what’s going on?”

“Balloon said there were these robo-dudes that broke into the hotel--”

“We saw them too!” Apple interjected.

“They took everyone in the hotel and then MePhone’s gone missing so we’re looking for him and trying to come up with a plan to get everyone back at the same time.”

“Have you checked the hotel again?” Marshmallow asked, “He could be there.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Suitcase agreed.

---

Test Tube managed to pry open the wall panel on the other side of the door’s controls. This place wasn’t the sturdiest, none of Meeple’s creations were. Inside the wall was a mess of wires, it seems nothing they made was organized either. After Cobs left with Fan (Test Tube pushed away the worry building in her mind, Fan was smart, she trusted him) she was given free rein to meddle with the technology. When the cat’s away, the mice will play. She rerouted one last wire and the barrier went down. She pumped her fist and stood up from where she was kneeling next to the wall. 

“Alright let's get Cheesy and try to find a way out of this place.” She stated, Trophy nodded. When they stepped into the hallway, the two could see the other cells lining the walls. Five on each side, all were empty. She wondered why. The two walked in front of the cell where Cheesy was being held. He stood in front of the barrier, cradling his arm with one hand. Test Tube winced as she looked at it; the arm itself looked bent in an unnatural -- and rather uncomfortable -- fashion. She forced herself to look away.

“There’s a card swipe thing on the controls for the door,” Trophy pointed out, she looked around to find a card swiper on each door.

“It might take a bit but I can probably rewire it to--” Trophy punched it, cracking the material around the swiper. The barrier went down. “Or you can do that. Yeah, that’s exactly how these things work.” She was going to sue Meeple for faulty security if this was the best they could do.

“Alright, what’s the plan?” Trophy turned to Test Tube.

“What?”

“What’s your plan?” there was a pause Test Tube stared at him as if he grew a second head. “Hey, I’m not gonna take control here, I'm way out of my element. I’m not good at science or nerd stuff, and I hardly know this guy.”

“Well,” she thought for a second, “First we should get a splint or something else from your arm,” she looked over at Cheesy. “It’ll be better in the long run. Then we need to find a way to the control room without being spotted by any MePhoneX models. From there we can stop the ship from taking off, find out where everyone else is, and free them.”

“Pshh, that’s easy, I’m sure we’ll do a-maize-ing!” Cheesy slapped his knee “Ow.”

---

Fan bolted as soon as Cobs turned his back. 

He didn’t exactly understand what the CEO expected to happen as soon as he wasn’t in a jail cell anymore, and he didn’t care that much what he thought. What mattered was that Fan was fast, and he was fast enough to duck into a room and slip through the grate of an air vent (thank the Creator he was as thin as paper) before Cobs or his machines could notice.

He didn’t look back as he crawled, he didn’t know where he was going. What he knew was there was no way he was giving up any information regarding the Shimmers and he wanted to be anywhere except here.

The vents were compact, but Fan had never been claustrophobic and he wasn’t going to start now. He did wish he had a flashlight or something, just anything that could let him see in the dark.

He came to a fork in the road. Two paths he could take, or he could circle back to the room. So two paths he could take. He turned right, it’s always the right way to go, after all. A light ahead drew his attention, it was on the floor of the vent, another grate. 

He peeked through it, looking into another hallway lined with cells.

“Please do not struggle. The boss asks for his guests to be at the front of the ship.” The MePhoneX model droned. Ignoring his words, Paintbrush struggled -- despite the fact their hands were tied behind their back -- as they were pushed forward in the hallway, leading them were two MePhoneX models, the one who spoke, and a second model holding a bucket that looked to be full of ice water. OJ stood next to Paintbrush, behind the two of them were two other MePhone X models. 

The hotel manager looked uneasy, but didn’t fight back. Fan heard the rising whistle of a kettle, and the air near Paintbrush’s bristles began to distort with the rising heat. Before they could explode, the contents of the bucket were dumped over their head, completely drenching them in ice-cold water. OJ moved back as the bucket was emptied, trying to stop any water from getting in his glass. 

Fan winced at the scene, he wished he could do something, but they’d still be outnumbered if he went down to help them. It wasn’t like he was strong, either, he couldn’t fight off four MePhoneX models, let alone one. So he looked forward and kept crawling through the vents. 

---

Microphone continued to pace around the room. She hadn’t turned her gain down, in case something went wrong on either side and they had to rework the plan. She told Tissues the gist of it, that she had been working with Taco during the game, which is why she forfeited, and now Taco was going to help them out. He didn’t really seem to care though, or even know who Taco was.

The barrier of the cell went down with a swoosh, and Microphone lit up as she looked over at it. Her optimism was misplaced though, as a MePhoneX model stepped into view. Not her former colleague. “We have a problem,” She whispered, careful to be loud enough so Taco could hear, but quiet enough so the MePhoneX wouldn’t notice. 

”I’m almost there,” Taco responded.

“Follow me,” The MePhoneX stated. Microphone and Tissues glanced at each other, Microphone hesitantly stepped forward into the hallway, Tissues was pushed forward by a second MePhoneX model. The first one led the two objects through the hallway, as the one who pushed Tissues followed in the back.

“We’re heading down the hallway,” Microphone whispered. The MePhoneX put his claw hand up to the card swiper, he swiped it down and the door opened. “Hurry up, we’re about to leave.”

In quick succession, the two MePhones were hit by a flash of white light. Electricity danced in the air around them until their screens went black and they fell to the ground. Microphone turned around. Taco blew the smoke from the bulb of her laser gun. “I’m here,” she stated. 

“Ms. Microphone, Mr. Tissues, it is great to see the both of you again,” MePad greeted. This surprised Microphone, she thought that Taco would’ve kept him unconscious (or dead? She wasn’t exactly sure about how Sleep Mode worked). 

“Do you know where those lackeys were about to take you?” Taco worriedly asked, kicking aside one of the MePhones on the floor.

“No, they just told us to follow them. Do you think something’s happening?” Microphone asked.

“Possibly,” she clicked the safety on her laser gun back on, “All the more reason to get to the control deck of the ship, MePad?”

“I’m sorry, I have never been on one of these types of ships before. I do not know the layout and attempting to teleport could result in a major injury.”

“We’ll just have to travel on foot then, perhaps we could extract some sort of map from these MePhones?”

Tissues groaned, “Ugh, I’m already low on energy and now we have to walk.”

---

Test Tube found a medical bay quite easily. It was one of the few rooms that were actually marked, with a large cross sign. The door didn’t have a swiper on it, either, it just slid open when Cheesy, Trophy, and her got near it. Cheesy sat down on one of the beds while Test Tube and Trophy searched for a medkit or anything else that could prove to be useful.

“Do you know how to treat a broken bone?” Test Tube asked. She had surface-level knowledge of medicine. She knew enough to treat burns, cuts, dislocations, things like that. She could do okay treating a broken arm in theory, but it still would be best for Cheesy to see an actual doctor.

“Kinda. A buddy of mine broke her arm when she was younger and they had to split it before she was sent to the hospital. And there was this mandatory first aid class I had to take one time.” The two found an adequate medicinal kit easily, and a cardboard splint was stuffed in the back of the cupboard. 

Trophy placed the supplies down next to Cheesy and got to work. He assessed the break, prodding the arm, making sure none of the bones were out of place. “Well it feels like a clean break, I can't feel any shard of your bone. Be lucky it's not sticking out of your arm,” Trophy remarked. Cheesy paled. The golden cup measured out the length of Cheesy’s arm against the splint and cut the cardboard down to an adequate size. He padded the splint with towels and placed Cheesy’s arm in it. He filled up the rest of the gaps between his arm and the cardboard with more towels and secured the splint with medical tape. “There,” he finished, “Good as new.”

“Shouldn’t you also take care of your own hand?” Test Tube questioned. Trophy looked at his hand, the one he used to punch the MePhoneX.

“Right.” He moved back to the cabinets. Sifting through them until he found what he was looking for. He quickly splinted and bandaged the few fingers that looked out of place.

A loud clanking sound like the beat of a drum echoing through the hallway drew Test Tube’s attention. The doors to the medical bay swished open as a flock of MePhones (was flock the right word? There wasn’t exactly a generally accepted word for a group of MePhones) stampeded through the hallway. The robots didn’t so much as glance at Test Tube or the others in the bay. They were gone as soon as they had arrived.

“What was that about?” Cheesy questioned, leaning over Test Tube’s shoulder.

“They were going somewhere,” she responded.

“Well, I could see that. We should follow them,” Trophy states.

“What?”

“Think about it, a big group of them are going somewhere so wherever they’re going must be important. Maybe someone else broke out.”

Test Tube contemplated this. As weird as it was to think, Trophy had a point. “Alright,” she concluded, “let’s go.”

---

The vents would’ve been a good method of transportation if Fan actually knew where he was going. Every once in a while he caught a glimpse of light through one grate or another, but most of the time it was just him crawling blindly and occasionally guessing what turn he should make.

He had two goals:

1: Find where all of his friends are being held.

Or

2: Find a way out of this place.

Either works honestly. If he finds a way out, he’ll go get help (from who? He doesn’t know, there are way too many variables at play here, and if he thought about every single possibility he’d have a panic attack here and now. He’s concluded to just not think about it, which is easier said than done). If he finds his friends first, great! They can regroup and come up with a plan together. He did not account for the vents giving out beneath him.

His head banged against the ceiling of the vent, sending stars spinning across his vision. The vent itself hit the floor with a loud clang. Fan crawled out of the vent and caught his bearings. He looked around. It was a small, dimly lit room, most likely for storage judging by the boxes of broken or discarded parts.

“Hullo Fan! Were you captured by one of those Me-Phone thingies too?” Fan whirled around at the voice, scrambling back until he recognized the object it belonged to. 

“Toilet? What are you doing here?”

“Mistah Phone fired me from the show and then a not-Mistah Phone took me to this space shippy thing and locked me in this closet!” 

“You were just put in a closet?”

“I think they forgot about me!” His cheerful tone wasn’t deterred by the implications behind his words. Fan glanced over at the closet door, he grabbed the handle and turned it. The door creaked open.

“It was unlocked.”

“I don’t have hands!”

---

They found MePhone4 outside the hotel. He stood in front of the spaceship, staring up at it. The area was dead silent. Stars shone high overhead, a crescent moon placed delicately in the sky. Not even the wind disturbed the scene. The rag-tag group of contestants and former contestants ran over to him. “MePhone!” Lightbulb called, “We’ve been looking everywhere for you--” She was cut off as the doors to the spaceship opened, lowering down to form a ramp.

Cobs walked down the ramp and stopped halfway. His shoes clanked against the metal with every step. He was followed by two MePhoneX guards.

“Cobs.” MePhone4 spat the name as if it were poison. 

“MePhone4! A pleasure to see you again.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s not good seeing you.”

“Oh come now, that’s no way to speak to your creator. I built you. You were a part of our family. I spent ages toiling. Performing backbreaking labor. Working and reworking formulas to make sure you were perfect. And this?” He motioned to the hotel, to the contestants. “This is how you decide to repay my hard work?” The frustration faded from his face. “You’ve been playing these games long enough, Blue. It’s about time you return home.”

“Home? That place isn’t my home.” 

Cobs shook his head, like a parent disappointed in their child, “Then where is? Here? These objects don’t care about you. They sent you to jail. They didn’t notice when you weren’t the one commanding the challenge. Hell, I bet they’d prefer MePad or even Toilet to be the host over you. But, if you care about them so much I suppose we could make a deal.”

“...what?”

“You come home with me, and in return, I’ll leave this little hotel and its residents alone.” Cobs snapped his fingers, and a large group of MePhoneXs stepped forward, escorting the large group of Hotel OJ residents. Lightbulb couldn’t see the whole group from where she was standing, but she could see Paintbrush at the front of the group. “I’ll let go of the ones I, ahem, borrowed and they won’t ever hear from me again.” Lightbulb glanced from MePhone to Cobs.

Knife was the first of the remaining contestants to speak, “You can’t actually be thinking about this--”

“You’ll leave them alone?”

“They won’t hear from me ever again.” 

MePhone looked at the group behind Cobs, then at the man himself. “Fine.” He hissed, climbing up onto the ramp. Protests broke out from the two groups of contestants. MePhone shut his eyes and kept walking. Cobs outstretched his arms and engulfed MePhone in a hug. The host tensed up, not even moving his arms to return the gesture. Cobs pressed down on MePhone’s power button, it only took three seconds for MePhone to drop like a stone. Cobs’ smile fell. He passed the unconscious MePhone4 off to a MePhoneX. He snapped his fingers.

“Kill them all.” He ordered, voice cold as ice, as sharp as steel. He turned on his heel and walked back into the spaceship.

---

Taco peeked around the corner. Empty. The entire place seemed empty now. The small group snuck to the end of the hallway. They had to have been close to the control deck, she could feel it. The panels on the floor clanked as they walked.

The air was filled with silence (aside from the occasional sneeze). None dared to talk, Taco knew MePad was only working with them because he was too nice to decline helping out. Microphone only asked for her help because she had no other choice. Tissues…well Taco wasn’t sure about him. She had never spoken to the guy. 

The hallway led to a singular door. It had a card swiper on it, unlike some other doors in the facility that merely opened whenever you walked near them. She grabbed the arm she stole from a MePhoneX she had decommissioned earlier and swiped its claw against the card swiper. The swiper beeped and the door swished open. 

Bingo.

The control room was large. A wide window took up the majority of the wall, many different stations were set up across the room, buttons, levers, and switches took up the majority of the panels. The group looked upon it in awe.

“We’re here,” Taco announced. She walked around the room, like a kid in a candy shop. In the middle stood a captain’s chair on a platform, in front of it were the controls for steering. Taco scanned the buttons, she pressed one and the doors they used to enter slammed shut. “There,” she said, “The doors are now locked, only one keycard can unlock them, and we have officially commandeered this vessel.”

---

Fan wandered the halls of the spaceship. All the hallways looked the same, every door looked exactly like the one he just passed. Toilet hopped behind him, rambling about something, Fan accidentally zoned out of the conversation at some point and now he had no clue what the former assistant was talking about. This place was impossible, it’s all just one big labyrinth.

Labyrinth.

Fan gasped. He placed his hand against the wall. He had an idea.

It’s just a labyrinth. A maze. And the key to mazes is to run your hand along the right wall until you find a way out.

---

Test Tube was faring as well as Fan. She, Trophy, and Cheesy were lost. But it wasn’t like she was going to admit it!

“We’re lost.”

Ok so maybe she was going to admit it. 

“Yeah, this place is a real maize!” Cheesy cackled, Trophy placed a hand on Cheesy’s splint to stop him from slapping his knee with his injured arm. “Are we sure there isn’t a directory or something, like in a mall?”

“Why would there be a-- why is there a directory.” Now, Test Tube wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She ran her finger along the map, she pointed to the control room “Aha, the control room is…under lockdown.” She frowned. “That’s odd. I don’t think I’ll be able to override that with the materials I have now.”

“Then what should we do?” Cheesy asked.

“Well--” she was shortly cut off.

“Test Tube?” She turned around and saw Fan barreling towards her. He tackled her in a hug.

“Fan!” She beamed, glad that he got away from Cobs. Fan let go of the hug.

“Are you guys alright?” Fan asked, he looked from Test Tube to Cheesy, winced slightly, to Trophy.

“Hullo guys I’m here too!” Toilet announced, defying gravity as he often does (Test Tube should look into that).

“Great, not this guy again,” Trophy grumbled. Toilet looked like he didn’t receive the scornful words.

“Long story,” Fan waved off the comments, “He got taken too. But I crawled through the vents and saw OJ and Paintbrush being taken away by some MePhoneXs. One of them said that they were being taken towards the front of the ship.”

“Something bad might be happening,” Test Tube finished the thought for him. 

“Do you think we should go check it out?” Cheesy asked, looking to Test Tube. She thought for a moment.

“The control room is locked down, and we can’t do anything else. We should go help.”

---

”Kill them all.” The three simple words echoed in Lightbulb’s mind. 

The weight of the phrase only sunk in when a MePhoneX raised a clawed hand towards Paintbrush. Crimson electricity sparked between his two fingers. Three of the other MePhoneXs followed suit, aimed at a different object.

Time slowed down.

Lightbulb saw red.

Anger flooded her veins, clouded her brain, encompassed her body. Fear was pushed to the back of her mind. And fury took its place. 

How dare they threaten her friends. Threaten her best friend. Her Paintbrush.

The air around Lightbulb sparked. Electricity danced around in the palms of her hands. 

Paintbrush’s bristles stood on end.

A shockwave of lightning carved its way through the air. It ducked and weaved around the forms of her friends -- leaving but static behind -- and hit the onslaught of MePhoneXs. The ones close to her friends were thrown back as if hit by a freight train. Sparks danced around the fallen MePhones. They writhed wildly, as if the foreign electricity was eating them away from the inside; until they fell still. The remaining MePhones had the sense to step back. 

Before the MePhoneXs could recover from the shock of the situation, the hotel’s inhabitants had already started running. Down the ramp and to the small group gathered around on the ground.

But Lightbulb wasn’t paying attention to that. Lightbulb had her eyes locked on the remaining MePhoneXs up by the ship’s entrance. If a look could kill they’d be dead already. 

“--ightbulb?” A voice drew her from her thoughts, the air was still filled with static electricity. “Lightbulb, take a deep breath.” She didn’t even think before taking a slow, deep breath in, and exhaling from her mouth. The electricity coursing through her veins slowed to a dull hum as her fury subsided. She looked over at Paintbrush, the source of the voice. “The fire…thing that happens is usually tied to my emotions, breathing helps,” they explained.

The clash of metal on metal at the mouth of the ship cut off whatever Lightbulb was going to say and made the group tense up again. A new group of MePhoneXs marched to the start of the ramp.

“Oh come on,” Balloon muttered under his breath.

---

Microphone heard the person approaching the control room. Her higher gain allowed her to receive more sounds from a further distance.

Two objects. Walking down the hall. Not a quick pace, one was heavier than the other, and judging by the sound of the footsteps, the heavy one was a MePhone. The MePhone sounded like he was carrying something. The lighter footsteps of the second person meant they were an object. And the only likely option would be… “Someone’s coming, we need to hide,” Microphone hissed to the others in the room. Taco quickly dived under one of the stations, one that looked like an office desk. Tissues hid behind a decorative plant. She had no clue where MePad disappeared to. Microphone dashed into a room she noticed earlier, a security room with different camera feeds plastered on the screens across the wall. The door shut behind her automatically.

She heard Cobs walk into the control room. “Place him down there,” he ordered, and a thump of something hitting the floor followed. A soft cry made Microphone turn around. The noise was faint, practically unnoticeable. An object with normal hearing would only be met with silence, and even Microphone strained to hear anything. She honed in on the sound, ignoring the conversation and other noises outside. She stepped closer and closer to where she thought the noise was coming from. The cries grew louder and louder in turn. Their volume came to its peak when Microphone was facing the wall to the right of the security desk. She looked at the wall, it wasn’t anything special. She squinted, despite the dim lighting she saw something. A faint seam, as if the wall could be opened up. She pushed it, yet it didn’t budge. She looked over to the security desk, and a purple button on the far right side caught her eye. 'Let's hope this doesn’t set off any alarms,' She pressed it. A hiss of something unlocking sounded from behind her. The square portion of the wall where the seam had been extended out, like a filing cabinet. A warm glow emanated from it. She peeked inside.

On a soft pillow sat a large egg.

Purple, white. and magenta zig-zagged stripes.

Just like the one Fan had.

Just like the Shimmers.

The soft cries grew louder, like a baby crying out for its parents. Microphone hesitated. She picked up the egg delicately, as if it would break if she so much as held it wrong. No, not it. They. As if they would break if she held them wrong. The humming cries of the egg quieted as she cradled it.

She glanced over at the door that led back into the control room. She focused back on the noises outside. It was silent except for the tapping of keys on a keyboard. She glanced over at the camera feeds displayed on the monitors. Cobs was sitting at the captain’s chair, typing away on the keyboard. Microphone gasped as she noticed MePhone4 was propped up against the far wall, his screen was black. Sleep mode. She looked around at the rest of the room on the screen. She spotted Tissues quickly, she had no clue how he hadn’t been caught yet. Taco was crouched beneath the desk she dived under earlier. She was visible from the cameras, but not from where Cobs was sitting. Her laser gun was drawn, and her eyes narrowed.

Microphone knew the look on her face. She’d seen it a million times before. Taco was debating on whether or not she should take Cobs out here and now (she wouldn’t kill him, hell no, just incapacitate) or wait longer and possibly learn more information. She still had no clue where MePad was. Microphone glanced at the cameras, then over at the door, then at the egg in her hands. She set the egg down on the plush chair. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered to them, although she didn’t know if they could hear her. 

The door fwhooshed open when she went near it. She froze at the sound, but Cobs didn’t turn around. She let out a small sigh of relief and snuck closer to where Taco was hiding. She caught the Brit’s eye. Microphone glanced over at Cobs in his chair, then the laser gun in Taco’s hand. Taco nodded. She peeked out from behind the desk, lining up her shot. Cobs let out a yelp when he was hit. It was short-lived, he quickly slumped against the chair. 

Taco pumped her fist. “Got him, alright we’re good everyone,” She announced, Tissues crawled out from his hiding spot.

“Is Mr. MePhone alright?” Microphone jumped at MePad’s reappearance. Taco looked over MePhone. Microphone looked over at the door to the security room

“He’ll be alright I think. He was just put into sleep mode temporarily, he’ll recover.” The second-placer stated. 

The door to the security room slid open when Microphone got near it. The egg was sitting in the seat right where she left them. Their cries rang quietly in her ears, she picked them up and walked out of the room.

“--should tie him up and then return MePhone4 back to the contestants.” Microphone caught the tail end of Taco and MePad’s conversation. Taco looked over at her when she exited the side room. “Mic what do you-- what is that?”

Microphone looked down at the egg in her hands, “I think…” her mouth felt dry. “I think they’re one of the Shimmers.” The egg hummed warmly, a cheer as if confirming her fears -- or as if remembering a name they forgot. They then cried out as if they were suddenly hit by a wave of great sorrow, a hollow homesickness. The cry grew in volume until Microphone had to force her hand behind her back to turn down her gain. The scream echoed through the room, rising together to a crescendo of noise so deafening she thought her ears would burst. She only clutched the egg further to her chest, squeezing them tightly. The cry died down, turning back into the soft thrum from before. 

“We gotta get them back home.”

---

The clearing broke out into chaos.

The fight was a blur to Lightbulb, a cacophony of movement and noise that tired her out.

She did what she did best, she recognized the problem and solved it in the best way she could; making a joke out of it. 

So she threw zaps of electricity by pointing finger guns, she twirled her friends away from the face of danger as if it were a dance, she cracked jokes, nudging the person standing next to her.

She had absolutely no idea how they were winning. Maybe it was the lack of order from the MePhones, maybe it was the hotel’s general disorder and bias towards chaos. Or maybe it was because Yin-Yang kept biting the MePhones, or because the water that still clung to Paintbrush had evaporated, allowing them to burn through the ranks of MePhones. It could’ve been because of the familiar loud screech that emanated from the spaceship, causing the MePhones to glitch. Maybe it was their organized mess of cohesiveness from living together for so long, or it even could be because Knife kept throwing Nickel like a frisbee and it kept working. 

Whatever the reason might be, the fight seemed to be turning in favor of the hotel’s inhabitants. A shout from the mouth of the spaceship shook Lightbulb from the rhythm of the fight. A screaming white blur hit a MePhoneX that Lightbulb didn’t know was behind her. 

“Oh hello Lightbulb!” Toilet greeted from where he was laying on the broken MePhoneX.

“Yo Toilet!” She responded, “I thought you left the island?”

“No, I got kidnapped!” He replied cheerfully, hopping upright.

“Wow, I didn’t think that would work,” A voice from the spaceship’s entrance stated. Lightbulb turned to see Test Tube, Fan, Cheesy, and Trophy (who looked as if he had just thrown something) standing near the top. Lightbulb (almost literally) lit up upon seeing them. She waved frantically.

“Testy! Fan! Other dudes who I haven’t talked to!” She called, “You’re alright!” The group ran down the ramp to where Lightbulb stood.

“Are you guys alright?” Test Tube questioned, looking over Lightbulb for any injuries. Lightbulb looked around at the battle happening around them.

“Yeah, I think we’re doing good!” 

---

Microphone strode through the hallways of the spaceship. MePad and Tissues kept pace behind her. The egg was held in one arm, Taco’s laser gun wielded in her other hand. Taco herself was still in the cockpit of the spaceship, making sure MePhone4 would be alright and assuring that the ship wouldn’t be taking off any time soon. Not that it could take off; Tissues was dragging an unconscious (and tied up) Cobs behind him.

Microphone was on a warpath. She didn’t hesitate as she walked, even if she didn’t know where she was walking.

“Ms. Microphone, I could teleport us to the front of the ship if that would help. I saw the entrance as Ms. Taco and I walked inside,” MePad offered. Microphone stopped and looked over at him.

She didn’t hesitate with her response, either. “Yeah,” she said, “That would be great, thanks MePad.”

“I’m very happy to help.”

The world shifted around the three in a blur of purple. Microphone would say it wasn’t as disorienting as the elimination portal. Far from it, really. It felt as if they had barely moved. Just one moment they were standing in the hall, the next a vwoop of lilac and violet, and then they were at the stoop of a ramp overlooking a fight between the MePhones and the Hotel’s inhabitants. Her eyes darted around the clearing. Her heart sped up as she pressed the power button on her chest. She took a quick breath in.

“Hey!” She shouted, her amplified voice reverberated throughout the clearing. The fighting quickly faded to a stop. She pressed the button on her chest again, making her voice go back to normal.

She cocked the laser gun at Cobs’ unconscious head. 

“All of you MePhoneXs get back in the spaceship,” she ordered, projecting her voice to the entire clearing

She was bluffing of course. The safety was on. She doesn’t want to kill anyone. Even if they are Cobs. But the MePhones don’t know that. 

The horrified -- and frankly concerned -- looks on her friends’ faces almost made her hesitate.

“Ms. Microphone. Isn’t this,” MePad searched for the right word. “Irrational? Going too far?”

She tightened her grip on the handle. “Now.”

The MePhones in the clearing tensed. Before one of them hesitantly stepped forward onto the ramp.

It was like a domino effect.

With one MePhone stepping forward came another, then another, and another until there weren’t any left in the clearing. 

As if it were made of molten metal, she dropped the gun as soon as the MePhones were inside the spaceship. She steadied her breathing, glancing from the laser gun --that was now slowly sliding down the ramp -- to her friends at the bottom of the clearing.

The egg let out a harsh shriek. She winced at the sound, watching the myriad of reactions. Fan’s recognition. The Cherries’ confusion. OJ’s worry. Test Tube’s dawning curiosity. Just as before, the egg’s cries died down as soon as they began. The constant hum held in her arm was almost comforting. She walked down the expanse of the ramp. Fan and Test Tube were already there when she reached the bottom.

“The-- Oh my creator you-- the other egg, Test Tube! He had the other egg,” Fan stumbled over his words. 

“I uh--” Microphone hesitated. Would it really be worth it to lie? To tell them she didn’t know what they were or where they came from? “--found them in a secret compartment.” She handed the small egg over to Fan. He held them gently, as if they were a priceless artifact. They might as well be. 

“If they’ve been calling out this entire time -- oh and that must have been the noise we heard earlier -- then the Shimmers should--” She was interrupted as a spotlight flashed into the clearing. A different, familiar spaceship. Test Tube’s face broke out into a grin and she waved exaggeratedly. Dust was kicked up as the ship sank towards Earth’s surface, Microphone moved her hands up to shield her eyes from the dirt cloud that formed. The wind calmed as the ship landed, the clearing moved back to silence.

A hatch opened in the ship, and a long, red carpet unfurled from it, stopping at Microphone and Fan’s feet. A loud fanfare of horns announced the arrival of the Prime Shimmer.

Microphone had briefly seen them, when Taco and her had gone to “save” Fan. She never got a good glimpse of them before. If she had then she might’ve called off the “rescue mission.” They were rather intimidating for being a giant egg. They floated along the path of the red carpet, sparks of light trailing behind them. But even now, in all their glory. They looked almost…scared? They kept glancing over at the other spaceship in the clearing. 

“We thought you hadn’t known where the other lost one was,” was the first thing the Prime Shimmer said.

“They didn’t,” Microphone stepped up, pushing down the fear forming in her chest. “We just found them after we were attacked by him.” She glanced over at the unconscious Cobs laying at the start of the ramp. Tissues reeled back his leg as if he was about to kick him down it. The Prime Shimmer followed her gaze, then glanced over at the hotel, the door still of its hinges.

“You were attacked as well?”

Microphone nodded. The Prime Shimmer down at the magenta egg in Fan’s hands. He held the egg out to them. They accepted it, holding them snug in their glowing white palms. The small egg trilled melodiously.

“You have returned our lost youngling to us. For that, we thank you and forgive you for the panic you and your friend caused upon our first meeting.” They looked to Microphone when they said that. Microphone’s stomach dropped. “The colonizer will be arrested, as per our laws. His fate will be decided at a later date. We will send a message to you all declaring what it is.” Microphone glanced at Cobs, who was now laying at the bottom of the ramp. Tissues had a smug smile present on his face. Two shimmer guards, spears in hand, floated over to the unconscious CEO. They picked him up and dragged him into the egg-like spaceship.

“We must be going soon. We wish you well in all your future endeavors, just please don’t involve us in any of them,” The Prime Shimmer said, jokingly. They floated down the carpet, it rolled back up as they returned to the ship.

The contestants on the ground waved goodbye to the spaceship as it flew away (even the most dazed of them waved. OJ looked like he was going to have a mental breakdown.)

Cheesy looked over at Cobs’ former spaceship, MePad had just teleported MePhone4 down to ground level and now he and Toilet were trying to get him to power back on despite the fact neither of them had hands.

“So,” the comedian said, “what do we do with the spaceship.”

---

It took a while for things to return to normal.

Those who needed went to the mainland to get medical assistance. Many online therapy appointments were scheduled. 

The world mourned the disappearance of Steve Cobs for a day before they moved on.

OJ tried to not think about the fact that yes, aliens were real and he had just met them.

Tissues didn’t tell anyone about Microphone and Taco working together, he relished in the fact that he knew a secret almost no one else did.

Microphone and Taco talked.

---

Microphone pushed back a layer of branches. Taco sat at her usual spot on the log, she was fiddling with the invisi-bow she wore. A tea set was placed on a small, round, foldable table. Microphone sat down on the log across from her. She crossed her arms.

“Microphone, I-" Taco opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "I-- well-- you were right,” was what Taco finally said. “I wasn’t listening to you when I should’ve. And I was pushing you along in the game, only thinking of the end goal and not thinking of all the people I hurt to get there. I...I know it was wrong of me to push you to physically harm others, or to harm them myself when you clearly told me not to. It was a boundary I never should’ve crossed and for that, I am so, so sorry,” Taco took a breath, thinking of her next words. “None of what happened was your fault. Everything-- all of this mess was the result of my actions and I take complete responsibility for all of them. If there’s anything, anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know; and if you do still want to be in contact with me, I swear that I’ll listen to you, and I'll and keep any and all boundaries in mind before I act from now on. I understand if--" Taco's voice quivered "If you don't forgive me, but I just wanted you to know I'm truly sorry."

Microphone looked at her. A former stranger, ally, friend. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“It’s going to…take some time,” Microphone uttered, “but if you’re willing to change, then I’m willing to try to give you another chance.” 

“Of course,” she responded, “I promise I won’t let you down.”

---

It was many many months before Microphone told OJ about what had happened on the spaceship, how she had escaped or defeated Cobs in the first place.

”She’s trying to change.” Microphone had said, “I think she already has, at least a little bit.” Taco and her had taken up tea parties on Tuesday afternoons. They caught up with eachother, talking about whatever came to mind in the absence of the pressure brought on by the game. “I’m not saying to not be cautious, and you don’t have to even like her. But if she shows up at the hotel, try giving her a chance.

OJ had gotten back from Indefinite Island when Microphone told him. He was…hesitant, to say the least.

He didn’t fully form an opinion until a few months later. Rain pounded on the roof of the hotel, thunder crashed together, and lightning struck a tree in the distance. 

There was a knock at the door of the hotel.

OJ went to answer, he thought it could be another season three contestant who was eliminated. 

He did not expect to see the season one second-place winner standing on the doorstep.

She was drenched, first of all. Water sopped through her usually hard shell. She was shivering, arms wrapped around her midsection, trying to conserve as much body heat as possible. She looked down at her feet. 

OJ was brought back to a moment, a long while ago, where he had been here before. A different object. A different time. It was…unfair. He was unfair to that object, before. He came to the hotel with an apology (albeit a poorly written one) in hand in search of forgiveness and left with an umbrella.

OJ wordlessly stepped aside.

Chapter Text

Ⅰ

|| Nickel + Balloon || Write Me Letters, Ink On Paper ||

There were papers strewn about on the coffee table. Nickel knew he shouldn’t read them, it was an invasion of privacy blah blah blah. But that was way easier said than done, especially when they were blanketing the living room table. He took a peek at one of them, so what! 

“An ink-stained letter,

Sealed up with wax.

Left still undelivered,

Kept hidden in paper stacks.

A word or two for you,

Feelings I cannot describe,

A pen set to a paper,

Yet it’s still incapable of being inscribed.”

The handwriting was messy, the entire thing was crossed out with a thin black line, and numerous lines and stanzas Nickel couldn’t read were frantically scribbled out. He glanced at another paper on the table. 

“I’d scoop up all the

Stars in the sky. For you to

Hold and cherish too,”

And then the next.

“As the light cracks a sliver on the horizon’s wall,

You stare, unaware,

And shine as the sunlight falls.

A soft breeze roams miles and miles.

A daffodil held in my palm; 

You look over at me with a smile. 

Violet hyacinths and gardenias dance, 

Swaying along with the melody of the wind, 

In the field’s vast expanse. 

I turn to you and bask in your light,

Yet then you turn your face towards the sky.

And for a moment, I understand.

I follow your gaze, to a vast sea of blue,

To the cloud, and the cold, and the trace of the moon.

And then I laugh, and I turn and you’re laughing too.

I’d capture this moment in a bottle, 

And look into it when I yearn, 

So I may remember that I never truly learn.”

Nickel couldn't help but feel as if he stumbled into a conversation he wasn’t a part of. One between the writer and whoever they were speaking to. It felt…personal. His face tinted red with embarrassment. He stopped himself from glancing at any of the other papers on the table. Instead, Nickel made the short walk to the kitchen and quickly found a paperclip. He shuffled the papers together, keeping them together with the clip.

He carefully picked up the papers (the worst time for him to not have arms) and moved them into the hotel’s Lost & Found bin. OJ placed the bin in the back of the living room after everyone kept complaining about misplacing their things.

He closed the bin, letting the lid slam shut.

He hoped the person who wrote those papers would find them before someone else did. (And if he connected some dots between the last poem’s muse and himself he didn’t stay up thinking about it.)

---

Balloon frantically looked around his room. Through the desk drawers, under his bed, even in the closet. He stood in the middle of his-- now messed up --room. “Alright Balloon,” he muttered to himself, “just retrace your steps. You were working on writing when Pickle asked for your help with something.” He thought for a moment before smacking himself in the face, “Of course,” he exclaimed, “I must’ve left it on the table.” Balloon opened the door to the hallway with ease (the person who kept locking his room before season three had stopped a while ago).

He couldn’t help but feel nervous despite knowing where his work was. What if someone moved it? Or if someone thought it was trash and threw it away? Or if something spilled on them? His fears were only amplified when he made it down to the living room and the coffee table was barren. 

He searched the table and the area around it frantically. They weren’t on the table, under the couches, or in the drawers.

“Did you lose something?” Soap asked, looking over from the kitchen. She was wiping down the countertop with a rag. Nickel sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through his Test Tube brand phone and occasionally taking a bite out of some leftover pizza Balloon saw in the fridge the day before.

Balloon cast a glance at the coffee table, “I had some papers set here earlier, did you see where they went?”

“Those were your papers?” She asked. Nickel coughed as he inhaled the bite he was eating. “They were good! I’m sorry, I peeked at a few.” Balloon turned a darker shade of crimson out of embarrassment. “Someone,” she said the word as if she knew who it was, “Put them in the lost and found.”

Balloon looked over at the bin, he opened the lid and let out a sigh of relief when he saw the neat stack held together with a silver paperclip. “Thanks, Soap!” He called, heading back over to the stairs.

“No problem! You should tell them!”

He resolved to ignore that last comment.

---

Nickel coughed, hacking up the piece of food he inhaled. Soap turned to look at him smugly. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Nickel stated.

Ⅱ

|| Pepper + Salt || OJ + Paper || Bet On It ||

“--and then she had the audacity to say I was being the bad friend!” Pepper exclaimed, Paper looked up from where he was brushing lavender polish on her nails.

“After she left you and Salt stranded in the parking lot?” he questioned, absolutely baffled.

“Yes!” Pepper shouted, “I seriously couldn’t like, believe her. We left that friendship pretty quickly.”

“If you didn’t I would’ve been disappointed.”

Pepper chuckled. “So,” she began to say, “How have things been going with you and him?” A smug smile was plastered on her face.

A light blush dusted Paper’s face, “Still haven’t asked, I know I should and he’d probably say yes but--” he sucked in a breath and dipped the brush into the small bottle of nail polish, he began to paint the last of Pepper’s nails. “I dunno, I just can’t stop thinking about what would happen if he says no.” 

Pepper’s smile dropped to a concerned frown, “I know what you mean. Up until Test Tube did her experiment thing, Salt didn’t even like, accept that OJ didn’t like her. I don’t know how she’ll react if I tell her that I like her.”

Paper twisted the cap back on the nail polish bottle. “What about this, if you ask Salt on a date before I get to ask OJ, I’ll do all your chores around the hotel for a week.” 

Pepper thought about the proposition for a moment, “And if you ask OJ before I ask Salt?”

“You have to do all my chores for a week and keep Salt from taking over the hotel the next time OJ leaves me in charge.” Paper grimaced as he thought back to the mess that was the months between OJ leaving on “vacation” and returning after season three episode four.

“Hmm,” Pepper flapped her hands so the polish would dry quicker. “Alright, it’s a deal.” 

-- One day after the bet --

Paper tore a group of weeds out of the ground of the hotel’s garden. Sure, the bet was his idea, but it didn’t mean he had any clue how or when to ask OJ on a date. He mostly did it because between the two of them, neither was likely to make the first move. Paper knew that OJ’s love language was closer to quality time than anything. He liked hanging out with his friends and didn’t appreciate any grand professions of love. Just something simple and sincere. Salt’s attempts might’ve been sincere, Paper wasn’t completely sure, but they were certainly not simple. I mean, baking a cake, love ballads, skywriting. Salt had tried everything except just asking.

Which was what Paper was going to do. Yup. He was just gonna ask OJ. Right now. He was going to walk inside the hotel and ask him! Right….now! 

He’ll just get rid of one more weed first.

---

Pepper crumpled up the paper she was writing on and threw it at the overflowing trash can. It fell out and bounced onto the floor. She planned to write Salt a letter or a poem or something, but whenever she put a pen to the paper all of the ideas she had come up with earlier were gone or just didn’t seem good enough.

The door to the hotel room opened, Pepper glanced over to see Salt, her roommate and subject of her writing. She swept the papers off the table and they oh so gracefully floated to the floor.  Pepper propped the side of her face on her fist, her elbow leaning against the desk’s surface. She smiled, more teeth than eyes. She was acting as inconspicuous as one would expect to act when her crush was so close to figuring out her feelings by reading a few half-finished papers. 

“Hey Pepper!” Salt greeted. She walked to her bed -- the one closer to the door -- and grabbed a small bag by the foot of it. She glanced over at the desk. “What are you, like, working on?” She asked.

“Oh! It’s just--” Pepper hesitated a moment, she could lie and Salt would never know. The thought was short-lived, they were BCFFs. She shouldn’t lie. “--well there’s this person.” She looked down at her hand where she was twirling the pen around between two fingers. “And I’m like, trying to tell them I like them? But I don’t know if they like me back so I thought maybe write it out? But I don’t know what to write, or how to like, start at all!”

“Hmm…well if I was receiving a love letter.” Wow, that made it a lot easier for Pepper. “I’d want something like, sappy. Something sweet that I can read over and over again.” Salt paused a second, “Can I guess who it is?”

Pepper’s heart skipped at least five beats, which isn’t exactly healthy and she should probably see a doctor, and her face felt as if Paintbrush had accidentally lit it on fire. “Uh, well--” she stammered, “I was thinking of telling them first before anyone else.” Salt opened her mouth, almost as if she was about to argue, before closing it. Guess Test Tube did end up talking to her about boundaries after all.

“Alright! But after you tell them come straight to me and tell me how they reacted. If they’re gonna like, hurt your feelings at all I swear they’ll have worse things to worry about than thinking over how they rejected one of the best people in this hotel.” 

Pepper chuckled, mostly at the irony of the situation, “I will, bye Salty-Salt!”

“Bye!”

Pepper looked back at the desk as Salt quietly closed the door. She picked up some of the papers from the floor. Something sappy, huh?

-- Four days after the bet --

Paper didn’t expect to see OJ in the kitchen at  -- he glanced over at the glowing clock -- three in the morning. Judging by his reaction, OJ didn’t expect to see him either. “It’s late, what are you doing up?” OJ asked.

Paper shrugged, “I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Nightmares were still common, this time he was lucky enough to not remember it, the dream slipped right through his fingers like water when he woke up. The fear and hollow loneliness stuck well enough for him to guess what it was about. OJ nodded, he seemed to understand. “What about you?” Paper asked.

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought tea might help.” Sure enough, there was a tea kettle (not to be mistaken with the hotel’s resident, Tea Kettle) boiling on the stove. “Do you want some?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” The tea came to a boil soon enough, OJ took it off the stove quickly before the whistle could wake anyone up. He poured the tea into two mugs and handed one to Paper. The cup quickly warmed his hands. 

“It’s chamomile, do you want anything in it? Honey?” It took Paper’s sleep-addled mind a second click in the pieces that OJ was asking if he would like honey in his tea.

“No thanks, I like it as-is.”

The two moved to the dining table, OJ sat across from Paper. The two sat in silence, sipping their mugs of tea. It was nice having someone there.

OJ cleared his throat, “I was wondering,” he started hesitantly, “Would you ever want to go out to a restaurant or something?”

Paper gave him a confused look at this -- although it was lost in the dimmer light of the moon.

“Like a--” OJ picked at a chip in the mug, “Like a date?”

Oh.

Oh.

“Yeah!” That was a lot louder than he thought it would’ve been. He coughed. “Yeah,” Paper said again, quieter this time. “That’d be great.”

---

Pepper finished her letter and it only took her three days. Now all she had to do was deliver it to Salt and boom! She'd finally ask Salt out and she wouldn't have chores for a week.

Of course, things go haywire when she spots Salt. Pepper opened her mouth to say something but Salt beat her to it. “Pepper!” She exclaimed, “I need your help with something come on!” Salt grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the hotel. 

She was dragged over to the hotel’s garden. Pepper glanced down at their hands, heat rising in her face. Salt didn’t seem to notice. “Pepper,” her best friend started. “You have been my best friend for so long.” Was that music? Why was there music playing? No, how was there music playing? Salt grabbed her other hand and the heat in Pepper’s face rose tenfold.

’Her hands are soft,’ she thought.

 “And I wanted to ask.” Salt paused, for dramatic effect. “Would you go on a date with me?”

Pepper couldn’t say anything, Salt had beaten her to the punch. “Oh my Creator…”

“Is…is that a no?”

“What? No, no just,” she fumbled one of her hands out of Salt’s and pulled out the letter. “Just read this.”

Salt let go of Pepper’s other hand and opened the letter, reading through it. “You were going to ask me?” Pepper nodded. 

Salt laughed, a melodious sound, and Pepper found herself laughing alongside her. They both planned to ask eachother out, on the same day, at the same time. In the end, it was a little silly that Pepper had been worrying. Salt held Pepper’s hand with one of her own, and with the other hand, she cupped Pepper’s face. Salt’s hands were soft. And warm. As if the sun’s rays were holding her. Salt leaned in, and Pepper closed the gap.

---

“So OJ asked you out?” Pepper asked for clarification.

“Yup.”

“And Salt asked me out.”

“Yeah.”

“And neither of us actually asked them out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So neither of us won the bet.”

“Yup.”

“...I’ll still keep Salt from taking over next time you’re left in charge of the hotel.”

Paper let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you.”

Ⅲ

|| Paintbrush + Test Tube + Fan + Lightbulb || Call It A Date ||

The mall wasn’t as packed as Paintbrush expected it to be. Of course, a few other objects were milling about, going from store to store, and the four of them were recognized a few times. Usually, it was just a fan (not Fan) who stopped them for a second to take a picture. Inanimate Insanity had never been the most popular show on TV, but it was still watched by a group of fans (still not Fan, though they were sure he still watched the show). Right now, though, they were on a mall date with their partners. Lightbulb had been the one to suggest it. She was going to go to the mall soon anyway and most of Paintbrush’s clothes were paint-stained or old. Not that any of them wore clothes on a daily basis. They were literally objects. It was a very weird society. But it was still fun to dress up. Test Tube and Fan decided to tag along, each of them having their own things to buy, so the four of them called it a -- literal -- date.

Paintbrush didn’t hate malls, per se. But there was always something about them that made them just a little anxious. Maybe it was the bigger crowds

“What about this?” Lightbulb held a dress in front of her, it was mostly white with sunflowers dotting it, the sleeves were ruffly. She held it up to herself and twirled around despite the fact she was not wearing the dress.

“That looks good,” Paintbrush responded, smiling. Test Tube looked over from where she was looking through a clothes rack and gave a thumbs up. Fan was off…somewhere. He’d show up eventually. 

---

Fan did show up eventually.

“Why.” Paintbrush stated. Fan held up a shirt, the text on it read “Gamers Don’t Die, We Respawn.” Fan looked down at it and giggled.

“Because--” he was cut off by his own laughter, “I--” more laughter, “--I thought it was funny.”

“You don’t even play games regularly?”

“Yeah but Pickle has like,” he counted on his hand, “five of these.”

“He has what.”

---

“I need to buy a new labcoat,” Test Tube stated as the four of them walked through the mall’s corridors, skimming the different shopfronts. Paintbrush held their bag from the last store in one hand and Test Tube’s hand in the other.

“Oh, what happened to the old one?” Fan asked, he looked up from the picture of the mall’s directory he took on his phone.

“Disintegrated.”

“Again? That sucks. Yeah, there’s probably a store here where you could find one.”

“You could probably make a disintegration-proof labcoat if you try hard enough,” Lightbulb commented.

---

Paintbrush bit into their ice cream. Test Tube made a Face at them from across the small table the four of them were sitting at. “You bite your ice cream?” she questioned. They looked at her, confused. “Why would you bite your ice cream?”

Paintbrush glanced over at Lightbulb --who was busy eating her own ice cream-- for a second before looking back at Test Tube.

“You don’t?” They responded.

“No??”

---

“Oh my Creator, you were on Inanimate Insanity!” Paintbrush looked to the object who said that, a lavalamp. The lamp looked dazed, and they held their phone -- Paintbrush took notice of the different stickers adorning its case -- close to them. “If it’s not any trouble could I take a picture?”

“Yeah dude! C’mon guys!” Lightbulb, always the extrovert, pulled Paintbrush, Test Tube, and Fan together as the lavalamp extended their hand to take a wide-shot picture. Paintbrush found it easy to put a genuine smile on their face for the photo.

“Oh wow, thank you all so much this is-- oh Creator, sorry I’m-- I can’t really believe that I’d meet you at a mall of all places,” the lavalamp stumbled over their words.

“Trust me I’ve been there,” Fan stated, “I was way overwhelmed when I first got on the show, I got over it pretty quickly though.”

“You waited two weeks to ask me for an autograph because you were too nervous,” Paintbrush teased, a small smile on their face.

Fan’s face lit up redder, “I-- well--” he stammered, “I wouldn’t say two weeks.”

“I’d say three,” Test Tube commented. Lightbulb laughed.

Ⅳ

|| Marshmallow + Apple || Every day's an apple pie. When I'm with you I'm not so shy ||

Marshmallow ran her hands under the faucet. She was very lucky that the water in Purgatory Mansion was clean-- the fact that the pipes worked at all was a miracle. Surprisingly, the electricity worked too, thankfully. 

She set out a cookbook and a cake pan, along with sugar, butter, eggs, and all the other ingredients she’ll need out on the table. She flipped to the right page (52, she had the page number memorized) and skimmed through the instructions. She set the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and sprayed the grease on the cake pan. Bow had gone missing. It was like the ghost had vanished. She went up to the hotel with Apple to ask if anyone had seen her. No one had. Not to mention how some of the residents had recently left for a vacation to a resort, including OJ himself. Marshmallow didn’t know why she thought she could’ve been there. She couldn’t leave Purgatory Mansion. It’s why it’s called Purgatory Mansion. If she could leave, she would’ve told her…right? 

That was two days ago. Marshmallow spent the first day searching. The mansion she left for Dough to search through, but her and Apple looked all across the island. After that, Marshmallow busied herself. She tore the weeds from her garden. She dusted every surface of the mansion, she cleaned every floor, she watered every dying plant. Now there wasn’t anything to do, so she baked. 

“Hey Marshy!” Apple greeted, “Ooh, what’re you making?”

“Just a cake,” Marshmallow grabbed a medium bowl from a cabinet and poured a cup of sugar into it. 

“Can I help?”

Marshmallow thought over the offer. It would be nice to have company. “Sure.”

---

“Then you just stir,” Marshmallow finished instructing and handed Apple a wooden spoon. Her friend stuck it into the bowl and started stirring. Marshmallow brought out a new set of ingredients to start working on the frosting.

“So would you rather be in a zombie apocalypse or a robot apocalypse? Whatever apocalypse means,” Apple asked abruptly.

“What?”

“Would you rather,”

“Uh, a robot apocalypse, we’ve kinda already survived one. And an apocalypse is like the end of the world.” 

“Ohhh that makes sense. Would you rather wear high heels to sleep or slippers everywhere you go?”

“Slippers, there’s no way I’m wearing heels to sleep."

---

Marshmallow had just put the frosting in the fridge to chill when she heard a loud thump from behind her. She turned around to see Apple staring at a bag of flour that had fallen on the floor. The flour coated the tile flooring and Apple’s face in a blanket of white powder, Marshmallow stifled a laugh at the scene. 

“I think…I might’ve spilled it,” Apple stated, she smiled and looked up at Marshmallow. Marshmallow walked over and helped Apple pick up the bag, placing it on the countertop. Apple shook off the flour as best as she could. When that didn’t work, she wiped her flour-covered hands on Marshmallow’s face. 

“Hey--” Marshmallow objected with a giggle. She picked up a handful of the flour and threw it at Apple.

---

The two of them stood in a messy kitchen, flour-covered almost every surface, a half-finished cake batter rested in a bowl, the icing was still in the fridge, and the oven had just finished warming up. Marshmallow stared at Apple and broke out into laughter.

Later, the two would have to work together to clean up the mess they had made. But right now they had a cake to finish making, and a myriad of conversations to hold. 

Chapter Text

“Thank you all for joining me,” Paper stated. He looked over the small foldable screen and at the people sitting around the table, OJ, Soap, Pepper, Silver Spoon, and Knife. It was an odd bunch. Certainly not the ones he expected when he posted a flier on the hotel’s corkboard talking about this game. “If everyone has their character sheets then we can start playing the first session of Crypts and Creatures!” OJ clapped and Soap let out a whoop. Paper couldn’t pinpoint what emotions were and weren’t present on Knife’s face, Pepper set her phone facedown on the table, and Silver Spoon looked like he didn’t want to be here. Paper continued despite the rather lackluster reaction. He cleared his throat. “Alright,” he started.

===

You’re following a caravan of rich merchants. They’re trying to cut down their traveling time, doing so means heading through a rough stretch of the woods. No one knows what crawls through these parts but you’ve heard rumors of a large beast with razor-sharp teeth and a maw so large that it could swallow a person whole. Others say it’s a group of bandits, one so quiet that you don’t know that they’re there until there’s an arrow through your heart. Some say it’s all paranoia, people just end up lost in the woods after taking the wrong path. Something churning in your gut tells you that people don’t just disappear in these woods.

The merchant hired guards for the journey, around fifteen people to protect her and her coworkers. You were five of those fifteen hired. Currently, you all are near the back of the caravan, making sure the flank is protected.

===

“Knife,” Paper states, looking up from his notes where he jotted down the scene earlier. “How about you describe your character first?”

Knife glanced around at the others around the table before sighing and sitting up in his chair, “Uh alright. A steel dagger with a fancy lookin’ handle is walking along with the rest of the caravan. He’s uh, got some armor on, a shield on his side, and a sword in a sheath strapped to his back.” 

===

“Exactly how long will we be walking here? Nothing has happened and my feet are getting quite sore,” A silver scepter adorned with gems of purple, blue, and gold complained, he wore a finely threaded navy blue cloak with golden thread stitched in to form a pattern, as well as a poet’s shirt beneath a blue vest on top of it.

The steel dagger glanced over past the fleet of carts that made up the caravan and to the road ahead. “It’s gonna be for a while,” he stated in a gruff voice. The scepter groaned.

“C’mon it’s not that bad,” a potion bottle stated. She wore a simple green tunic with a fur-lined cloak that made her look much bigger than she was. A sheathed battleaxe was strapped to her back. “I’ve walked further and look at me! I’m doin’ great.”

“There’s a crack in your glass,” A wooden tankard with simple armor, a sword at his side, and a quiver of arrows at his back stated.

“I’m doin’ great!” Potion Bottle repeated.

“Yeah yeah, that’s great and all but when are we like, gonna get a break?” A spice jar interrupted. She wore a puffy skirt, similar to a ballerina’s tutu but it looked longer than one, a green blouse with a pattern of flowers, as well as a dark green cowl and hood.

“We’ve only been walking for a few hours,” Potion Bottle stated.

“Yes and it’s a few hours too many,” Scepter argued, crossing his arms.

“I’m sure we’ll be getting a break soon, we’ll have to stop for lunch sometime,” Tankard informed, raising his arms as a motion for them to calm down.

===

Paper looked over each of the players talking together. OJ as Tankard, a warrior. Soap as Potion Bottle, a barbarian. Knife as Dagger, a paladin. Silver Spoon as Scepter, a sorcerer. And lastly, Pepper as Spice, a thief. It was so peaceful, watching them talk in character. So fun. So lighthearted. So wonderful.

“Could you all roll me a perception check?” Paper asked, a wide, wicked grin made its way onto his face. The amused mood was extinguished immediately as Soap reached to grab her dice, the others followed suit. 

“Twelve” Soap responded, looking up from her character sheet.

“...One” OJ winced at the result.

“Six,” Pepper stated, glancing from her modifier to the roll.

“Also twelve,” Knife added.

“Twenty,” Silver Spoon stated. Shouts rose from the table.

===

A glint from the corner of his eye caught Scepter’s attention. The rustling of leaves found its way to Potion, Dagger, Spice, and Scepter’s ears. Spice waves it off as just an animal, perhaps a squirrel or some bird, moving from branch to branch. Potion and Dagger’s hands hover over their axe and sword respectively as they feel eyes burning through the backs of their heads. Scepter felt his magical energy bubbling up to your fingertips like a geyser as he readied a spell. Tankard spots a butterfly flying by. 

===

Paper rolled a dice behind his screen, the velvety box cushioned the sound. Fifteen. He checked the copy of Silver Spoon’s character sheet and grabbed a six-sided die from the dice set.

===

An arrow whizzed by, plunging itself into Scepter’s arm (“dealing two damage,” Paper had spoken), The other hired guards around the caravan shouted. “We’re under attack!” Arrows rained from the sky, burying themselves in the wood of the cart and the bodies of the other guards. Dagger raised his shield, pushing Spice and Scepter behind him. Potion grabbed her greataxe and scanned the trees, her eyes narrowed. She caught a flurry of movement and threw her greataxe, it spun around, gaining momentum, and hit its mark. The archer fell from the tree with a thump. Tankard rose his own bow, sending an arrow into the trees, a cry of pain told him his aim was true. Despite their efforts, the attacks were relentless, three more projectiles embedded themselves in Dagger’s shield as another arrow found a flaw in Tankard’s armor (“Dealing six damage,” Paper informed).

Spice peeked out from behind the shield, she raised her crossbow and shot. The arrow went wide and lodged itself in the bark of a tree. She cursed under her breath and ducked back behind the shelter given by the shield. 

“Where are those ruffians even firing from?” Scepter cried, he looked out from behind the shield but cringed back behind it as an arrow whizzed past his face. “You missed!” He shouted as he stuck his hand out from behind the shield, he muttered a string of words under his breath and from the palm of his hand grew a bolt of electricity, it danced around the battlefield before shooting out into the trees. The bow’s fire stopped momentarily. Something else was thrown into the middle of the clearing. A small, grey canister. The five adventurers watched it wearily until it hissed and a fog of purple smoke erupted from it.

===

“I need everyone to make a constitution saving throw,” Paper announced.

“Ten,” Pepper looked from the dice to Paper.

Soap sat up in her chair, “Natural twenty!” she shouted.

“Eleven,” Silver Spoon glanced at his character sheet momentarily, “No, thirteen, I have a plus two.”

“Also thirteen,” Knife informed.

“Twelve,” OJ was the last to roll.

===

Spice’s head began to swim, her thoughts became muddled and cotton filled her ears. Tankard swayed as he stood, his eyelids closing momentarily before shooting back open. Dagger felt his hold on his shield slip, and his armor felt heavier than it had been all day. There was a fuzz in the back of Scepter’s mind, his limbs went slack and his head felt as if it were full of lead.

Potion watches as her fellow adventurers fall to the floor, completely unconscious. She feels the drowsiness at the edge of her mind, seeping into her muscles, but she steadies herself, staying awake despite the thrall of sleep.

A cloaked figure jumps out from the trees and lands about twenty feet in front of her.

“Oh?” They turn to look at her, the fog and a gas mask cover their face, showing only two golden glowing lights in place of where their eyes should be. “Isn’t this interesting?” Their voice was garbled and distorted, as if some magic was hiding their true sound. “You’re a resilient one aren’t ‘cha, huh Glassy? Ain’t that ironic.” They laugh, a chilling sound that seeps down into Potion’s bones. “Oh don’t worry ‘bout it. You’ll fall asleep eventually. They always do” True to their word, darkness seeped into Potion’s vision as she felt herself slipping further away from unconsciousness.

===

Paper paused as he shuffled through his notes. He took a sip from his water bottle and cleared his throat.

“Dagger.” He stated, garnering Knife’s attention, “You wake up in a jail cell.”

===

Consciousness returned to Dagger all at once. One moment he was awake, shielding his fellow adventurers from an attack of arrows. The next moment everything was black. Now, he was staring up at a stone brick ceiling. Moss fed into the space between the bricks as if they were the mortar used when constructing it, and the whole room was damp. Water dripped from one part of the ceiling and into a puddle forming in a corner of the cell. He groaned, sitting up. The first thing he noticed was that his bag was gone, along with his armor and weapons. The second thing that he noticed was that he was not alone. Standing in front of the bars was a person adorned in dull armor. A helmet obscured their face. In one hand they gripped a ring of keys, and the other rested against the hilt of their sword. Dagger wearily looked this person up and down. He stood up, placing his hand against the wall to steady himself. 

“Who are you?” Dagger interrogated, his voice hoarse. “Where am I?”

The armored person didn’t respond, instead, the keys rattled until the door swung open. They didn’t say anything, instead motioning for Dagger to step into the hallway. Dagger weighed his options. He could stay in the cell, where there was no other exit and no assurance of food or water, or he could follow this stranger who he was at least 92% sure was his abductor or working with his abductor. 

The hallway was just as dingy as the jail cell. Dagger was led through a myriad of hallways and up some stairs. By then, the place was starting to look more refined. Mossy, cracked stone walls were replaced with polished stone bricks, and the hallways were carpeted. Portraits hung on the walls and there were several vases, plants, and hall tables spread out throughout the passageways. The guard-person (as Dagger had begun to call them in his head) came to a halt in front of a grand door. They pushed it open with one hand and pushed Dagger inside along with them using the other. 

The room was more impressive than the hallway outside. For one, it looked reminiscent of a throne room. The carpet from outside rolled into this room, up a small flight of stairs, and it stopped at an ornately carved wooden chair. On the chair sat a spear, a bored look adorned their face, and draped across their shoulders was a purple velvet cloak, with a golden chain clasp and silky white fur sewn along the edge of it.

Kneeling in front of the throne were four other people that Dagger recognized. Standing behind the four of them were guards identical to the one pushing Dagger forward. A shove down on his shoulders forced him to kneel. He glanced over at the other four adventurers. Scepter (the one right next to him) had a disgruntled expression, worry was evident on Spice’s face, Potion had her eyebrows furrowed, and Tankard’s stony expression couldn’t be read by him.

“Ah, is that the last of them?” Spear asked, the guard nodded. “Well then,” they cleared their throat, “Welcome, challengers! I’m Spear, queen of this humble kingdom!” She announced. Dagger glanced around, it didn’t look that humble to him.

“Challengers?” Spice asked, one of the guards drew their sword and pointed it at her. Spear looked disinterested, she held up her hand and the guard sheathed their sword.

“Yes, challengers! You five will be the newest competitors in The Oblivion Arena!”

“What?” Scepter gasped. The rest of the party had similar reactions of disbelief.

“I’m sorry, your majesty, but what’s an Oblivion Arena?” Tankard questioned, clearing his throat.

“Well, its definition is in the name! You might be crushed to oblivion in the arena! Well if you lose your fight, that is.”

“Fight?” Potion questioned.

“Of course! You interlopers will be the entertainment for the next few….ehhh nights? A week, maybe, if you aren’t a poor fighter. Just imagine it! Five new challengers from far lands facing off against the regular champions of the arena, it’ll be such fun! ” 

The five of them glanced at each other, none of them needed telepathy to know none of them thought it would be fun.

===

“And that’s where we’ll be ending today’s session,” Paper stated, shuffling his notes together and putting them back in the binder he bought specifically for the campaign. Groans and shouts of protest echoed throughout the table. Even Silver Spoon looked as if he wanted the session to continue. “It’s been an hour and a half since we started, I’ve got some other things to take care of.” 

“When will the next session be?” Soap asked.

“What about next Tuesday?” Paper offered.

“I’ve got plans to go shopping on the mainland on Tuesday,” OJ stated.

“Right…Wednesday?”

“Candle is dragging me along to help lead one of her yoga classes,” Silver Spoon shot that time down.

Paper paused for a second, “Friday?” He had a therapy session scheduled on Thursday around the time everyone would be free. Paper glanced over at everyone. No objections. “Friday it is. Does three o’clock work for everyone?”

---

Silver Spoon closed the door to the lounge where the Crypts and Creatures campaign had taken place. Candle stood in the hallway, waiting for him. “So how did you like it?” She asked.

“It wasn’t…as horrible as I expected, I will admit.”

She smiled, “I knew you would like it.”

“Yes well, I wouldn’t say like ,” This was, of course, a lie. Silver Spoon found the campaign very fascinating, and he was looking forward to the next session, even if he’d never admit it.

---

Paper stared at the Moogle document he was typing in. A list of ideas for plot points was strung out in front of him, different things relating to each of his player characters’ backstories. He was thinking of making it so that all of the backstories were connected. Tankard was rejected from being a knight of Scepter’s former kingdom, Scepter’s younger brother is working for the person who put the curse on Potion that stopped her from aging, Spice had pulled off a heist with Dagger against Scepter’s younger brother. It’s all coming together.

Paper felt a pair of eyes burning into the back of him. He sighed and moved to an empty tab, effectively hiding the document. “Soap I’m not going to give you any hints about the next session,” he deadpanned. Soap stumbled out from where she was hiding.

“Just a peek? Please?”

“I’m not spoiling the next session!”

---

Friday arrived sooner than expected.

Paper sat down at the head of the table, the foldable screen already set up to hide the notes he has planned out. “Alright where we last left off, you five have been captured by Queen Spear and are being forced to battle in her Oblivion Arena. The five of you have been moved to separate rooms, more comfortable than the cells you woke up in, but a golden cage is still a cage.”

===

Spice paced around her room. There was a simple bed with thin white sheets in one corner and a small desk in the other. If she stood in the middle of the room and held out her arms, she’s sure she’d be able to touch the walls if she rocked back and forth.

The lock on the door jiggled and she instinctively moved into a fighting stance, reaching for a blade that was no longer there. The door swung open, bringing a loud creak along with it. Standing in the doorframe was a guard, the same as one from earlier. Spice narrowed her eyes at them, but they only made a motion for her to follow them.

The two walked down the hallway, well, more like the guard pushed Spice along.

“Where are we even like, going?” She asked, breaking the silence. The guard didn’t respond. “Are you even able to speak?”

“I’m ordered to not speak to the prisoners,” the guard’s voice was gruff and flat, as if they were bored with the whole job. Spice rolled her eyes and kept walking. 

Eventually, they had made it to a large steel door with two other guards of the same gleaming armor stationed in front of it. The door opened, scraping against the floor, and Spice was pushed inside before the door slammed shut.

She scoffed at the door, “Cowards,” she muttered. She glanced around the new room, taking inventory of what was near her. There were lines of armor and weapons, she spotted numerous spears, swords, axes -- you name it -- along the walls.

Wait.

Why would she be put in a room filled to the brim with weapons unless…

---

“And at this end of the arena,” The voice rang out clear as a bell through the loudspeaker, “You love him! You’ve cheered for him!  IIIIIIIIIIIt’s the Iron Dragon!” Cheering rang out from the seats of the arena as a shining knight’s helmet stepped into the colosseum. He waved at the crowd, soaking in the attention. “And on the other side of the arena, we have the first of ten newbie fighters! Never seen before in this kingdom! Ladies, gentlemen, and our fine folk in-between or nowhere on the scale, put your hands together for Spice”

Spice stepped into the dusty colosseum, she lifted a hand above her face to stop the glare from meeting her eyes. The cheers of the audience still echoed through the arena, though not as loud as it had been for the Iron Dragon. She met her opponent's eye from across the crowd.

“You all know the rules! But just for anyone new tuning in, two fighters will step into the area, but only one will be the one to walk out. Of course, the standard rules apply, maiming, biting, and any and all underhanded tactics are welcome! If you refuse to kill your opponent just manage to knock them unconscious and we’ll send ‘em to the void for you! Try to keep the murder out of the audience stands, though those in the splash zone have signed contracts so no promises!” The announcer took a breath. “Ready?”

Spice was not ready.

“Fight!” 

The Iron Dragon didn’t need any further warning. He rushed forward, swinging a chain hammer behind him. Spice acted on instinct, ducking beneath the swing and rolling away. Dust kicked up as she steadied herself. This didn’t deter the Iron Dragon, who simply whirled around and sent the hammer flying in her direction. Spice’s eyes widened as it hit her shoulder, chipping off part of her glass jar with a crack . She was thrown backwards but managed to duck below the next blow before it could embed itself in her head.

Her eyes darted around the arena, she had to come up with a plan and she hadn’t even been able to draw any one of her weapons. She had to get further away (she weaved away from another hammer shot) the hammer was medium-range, but would likely not be good in close range or too far long-range (another shot hit her side and she reeled back, gasping for breath). She scrambled to the far side of the arena and drew the crossbow she snagged from the armory. She lined up her shot and pulled the trigger at the approaching knight helmet. It hit his side and left a dent in his side. Spice rolled to the side as the hammer lodged itself in the stone wall. 

She ducked away while she had the time, but the Iron Dragon recovered quickly, he threw the hammer at Spice’s retreating form. It hit its mark, knocking the rogue to the ground. Her vision distorted as a red-hot pain erupted from her back, she spat up dirt and blinked the dirt and tears from her eyes. Vertigo spun the arena and black dots danced at the edge of her vision. She turned to look at the Iron Dragon, but a spike of pain stopped her movement before it started, she stifled a cry. Her vision only darkened more, her thoughts becoming more and more incoherent. She sent a barely intelligible plea to anyone any thing , a god, a spirit, something someone listening to help, please. She took a ragged breath, and bracing herself for the pain, rolled onto her back so she could at least face her killer before she died. She was met with the Iron Dragon standing a few paces away, his back turned to her as he soaked up the cheering from the audience.

Then something odd happened.

Her hand slowly rose, without her moving it. Her hand pointed into that of a finger gun, and in the corner of her fading vision, she watched the torches placed around the arena dance.

The audience’s cheering quieted.

Her vision blacked out for a moment, but when it returned, There was no more Iron Dragon.

Merely a smoldering pile of melted steel on the sandy floor of the arena.

===

Paper smiled, “The crowd erupted into cheering, they’re stomping their feet, whooping and yelling. But that’s all in the back of your mind, Spice, as you hear a distinct voice, one as clear as a songbird, say…”

===

“We’ll work out the terms of our arrangement later.”

===

“Then the whole world fades to black, and you’re left unconscious,” Paper paused, “Potion, you’re standing in the room that you were taken to after meeting with Queen Spear…”