Chapter Text
The Smosh cast play an intense game of Flip 7, unknowingly becoming loopy from a suspicious gas that had been filling the room - slowly seeping out from the vents.
Courtney wins the game with 267 points, but the players aren't made aware. In fact, the crew has remained completely silent for a long time, and the players are just now realizing the eerie silence in the usually-energized room.
“…Guys?” Angela asks the darkness behind the cameras. “Alex?”
Silence.
Courtney giggles. “What happened to crewsjdhabak?”
Shayne wheezes, gripping his chest as he hunches over. “What did you just say?”
Courtney scrunches their brows. “I don’t have. Brain don’t. No work. Where crew? Crew?”
Shayne laughs his high-pitched laugh as his face turns red, his neck veins bulging. “Are you having a stroke?!”
Angela shouts, “Alex! This isn’t funny! Where are you?! Where did you go???”
Shayne laughs so hard he falls out of his chair. “WHERE’S ANTHONYYYY?!?!?!” He chuckles, his eyes fuzzying.
Courtney laughs hard, sliding down to the ground.
“ALEX I’M GOING TO FUCK SHIT UP IF YOU DON’T COME BACK RIGHT NOW!!!” Angela shouts.
“Angela!” Chanse scolds, but he giggles as he says it.
Tommy hunches over, laughing, "haaAAAAH!"
Courtney giggles more. “What is up?! We weird now! Weirrrd! We wrong.”
Shayne crawls to her, giggling. “Seriously, are you okay?”
They all get a Slack message. It reads: “Hello again, Smosh! It’s been a long time! We wanted to give you all a good, long break so you’d be nice and rested for this. Sorry again for the building lockdown and signal jamming—we can’t let anyone escape this until your presidents are killed and we have the deeds and all that fuss! Thank you again for your understanding!”
“Holy tits!” Angela exclaims through her laughs. “They’re at it again!”
“No! No kill kill!” Courtney mumbles.
Shayne wheezes laughing. “At least we’re laughing instead of hunting, am I right?!” He pokes Courtney. Her head rolls. She’s unconscious.
Shayne looks at her as he laughs, his face turning red with the force of his cackles. A part of him wonders if he should be concerned for Courtney. An ever-quieting part.
He looks around the room. Angela and Chanse are asleep as well. Tommy is hanging on by a thread, his eyes closing slowly and fluttering opening slightly again and again.
The doors open. “Guys! Grab these!” Ian and Anthony hand them gas masks.
Shayne, vision blurring, struggles to put it on himself but fits it just in time. He breathes in the fresh air and his mind begins to clear enough for him to put one on Courtney.
Once they are all free of the weak yet effective neurotoxin, they leave to help their coworkers.
Shayne carries Courtney while Tommy, Ian and Anthony drag the others.