Chapter Text
Alright, yeah… what the actual fuck.
Um, well, first off, we got Mr. Edgy Hot Topic dude stepping in front of an injured scientific scientist gorilla — or is he a monkey? — man and the shotguns are up and prepped to fire. Except, ya know, McEdgeLord must absolutely stop and declare his victory to the heavens above... But wait Emo Lord, there’s more! Monkey man is thinking. Monkey man is getting his shit together. Monkey man has somehow gotten his hands on that defected shield generator that somehow was placed right next to him and his sorry ass.
Wow. Blizzard gets yet another twenty points for being the cliche drama queen of the century (again). He wasn’t even sure if Pokemon could top that and that was saying something.
Emil rolled his eyes as the cinematic ran to a close. How his friends had gotten dragged down this hellhole was plenty obvious as shown by the intricate and smooth detail in graphics he had seen from the gameplay trailers. Those type of frames were difficult to find in FPS to be perfectly honest. However, why he was still going to buy this stereotypical FPS was beyond the imagination of anybody… (Ignoring the screaming of declarations of war against this entire being if he were not to purchase this game.)
Yet here he was, buying Origin Edition and crying over an empty wallet. And ah yes, you must never forget about this loss of his social life as well for at least a year. Wonderful.
A light flickers on, emitting a soft orange and white. A familiar color scheme that they could recognize in a heartbeat. The sight produced several different reactions. Some were anxious, scared. Their bodies freeze in place and their hearts, with them. Others are ready, excited. They have been waiting upon this signal for years. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Even more are wary, glaring at the light. They have made enemies, many and diverse, yet they feel that this could be the real thing.
They approach the light, slow, cautious and are confronted with a simple, small question. Yet answering this question held so much danger. Two answers, two paths to choose from. Would they choose the first to dive back into the fray, risking the claiming of the name of outlaws? Or would they perhaps choose the second to continue to hide in the shadows, enjoying their life has they have since it all ended?
Some hesitate to answer, mulling over it. They think, they debate, they tackle it from every single angle, taking their time. Wary they are, of the pain and the suffering, of what may come out of this.
To others however, the answer is incredibly obvious. The former of the two answer is selected without a second thought and coordinates are given. A huff here, while another groans there. Some had quite a journey to make and some were next door.
Yet, despite what they choose, they all begin to move.