Chapter Text
It was about time for yet another round to begin. The bunker's walls groaned loudly, overlapping chatter filled the underground building, and distant sound of humming electricity alongside faintly rattling wall pipes could be heard. The place smelled distinctively of sweat, spilt Witches Brew soda, and a mixture of various meals including fried chicken, grape pie, Bloxy Cola, pizza, and potato chips. Revolver was in the Theater area perching on one of the gray benches lined against the wall, reloading his small gun with plenty of ammo. His eyes tracked the ammo cartridge as he slid it into the gun's side compartment with seasoned efficiency thanks to doing this exact action hundreds of times prior.
Not far from him, near the second bench beside his own, Cloak was practicing using his iconic cape invisibility trick. Fwoosh! Cloak faded into the background of the bunker for a brief ten seconds, before he reappeared with the swish of his shawl and a short fwoo. Cloak repeated the cycle an additional five times, likely to perfect the ploy. Slouched and curled in a ball on top of one of the Theater chairs, Adrenaline was quivering lightly, eyes squeezed shut, and arms wrapped around himself. The poor guy seemed about ready to jump to his feet at a second's notice, thanks to his intense fear powering all his survival instincts.
Hotdog was sitting on the edge of the Theater stage, messily chowing down on a bag of potato chips while leaning on one of the silver criss-crossed poles supporting the top of the platform. The guy would occasionally say, 'Best snacks ever made, episode 211, potato chips' or something similar to no one in particular. Dash was training on the Theater stage, bouncing back and forth then side-to-side, aiming to grow nimbler since he knew majority of the killers were fast, especially Pursuer. He rushed forward on his feet, then suddenly back, like mentally envisioning Pursuer was ready to attack him. Block, on the other hand, was practicing his parrying by crossing his arms repetitively, constructing a safe habit in order to use his ability beneficially. Thanks to the absurd amount of onslaughts deflected by his countering, Block had harder skin than most other civilians did, and it was harder pierce overall.
In Hallway A, Punch was successfully beating the crap out of a sack dummy while Taunt spectates from a foot or two away, obnoxiously blowing a bubble with chewing gum.
"Whatcha doin'," Taunt asked lazily, the bubble he was expanding popping noisily.
Punch didn't answer for a minute, landing an intense strike on the low-quality dummy and sending it soaring into the building walls. The dummy slammed into the wall with a dull poomf.
"Surviving," He half joked after a second. He glanced back to Taunt, who offered him a smug, cocky expression that screamed 'nah, really?' to the fighter.
Punch rolled his eyes with a fondly exasperated groan, "You little... you were just doing that distract me, weren't you?"
Taunt grinned confidently, "Maybe I was. Not everyone is as handsome as you are~">
Punch shot his boyfriend a pathetic glare, "You don't just- get to say that casually!"
Taunt mimicked a combination of a pout and a shrug, "Oh no, what a shame~ I flustered you~"
Punch attempted to retort with a sarcastic comment, but it never came, instead all that came out was, "Okay, fine, dang it..."
Caretaker and CarePad were in the bunker's lobby standing in front of the Shop, exchanging conversation and healing supplies. They were the medicine duo and it was the two's job, after all. If someone needed to be cured of physical wounds, they would go to the remedy brothers. Also in the lobby standing next to the portal that led to the outside world was Banana Peel, balancing on a single leg and skillfully juggling a cluster of colorful bouncy balls like a royal jester. Their eyes tracked the red, orange, yellow, green, and blue rubbery balls with tuned in focus and their tongue stuck out in concentration. It was almost comical how unserious and silly the sight was in a building that was meant to keep the civilians safe from the surface world where the killers dwelled.
BonusPad, from about two feet or so away, observed as the bouncy balls went up and down, up and down, up and down, again and again. The support civilian raised a brow as if silently asking, 'I don't think increases the survival rate of everyone, 'Nana...' without directly questioning the pale yellow clown-nosed civilian. While numerous people were actually preparing for the round for begin, Loveshot, on the other hand, was not getting ready whatsoever. The genderfluid civilian was feeling feminine today, and being the mischievous girl she was today, she was simply being sassy to computers in the Office. She carelessly flicked her wrist and knocked over a mug of coffee without realizing it. The poor coffee mug shattered when it met the floor and coffee splattered everywhere across the floor.
"-well, it's totally unrelated," Loveshot had been saying to the computers from her position on the edge of one of the tables, flipping her hair in the bold manner only she could pull off, "just like how CarePad hates energy drinks! Dummy, heh~ What a lovable idiot~! How does one pull off such talent while maintaining such a charming face~? It's honestly impressive~!"
Meanwhile, it was time: the next round was finally, finally beginning...!