Don't Zap to the Extreme - Campaign Synopsis

This is an Example of Play of Don't Zap to the Extreme.

The way the campaign's call-and-response barks works changes midway, as the GM switched from a more stringent turn-based system into a more loose and flowing freeform one, visible around halfway through Chapter 5. Despite this the entire thing is both hilarious and disturbing, exactly what one might expect from the Sonichu universe.

Characters

Tavern Greil

• What Grinds Your Gears: Running around
• What Can You Do That You Can't Explain?: Parkay
• Why Does CWC Hate You?: He makes SLANDEROUS MOCKERIES of Mayor Chandler’s creations

Bob Fatmann, AKA Sammy

• What Grinds Your Gears: Large amounts of fat, including, curiously enough, his fists
• What Can You Do That You Can't Explain?: Transforming into a rotting fat version of Sonichu
• Why Does CWC Hate You?: For supposedly impersonating our autistic hero

Hank Venderson, AKA the Jerkhief

• What Grinds Your Gears: Ridiculous pain tolerance
• What Can You Do That You Can't Explain?: Police brutality; flies into a rage and can use all manner of weapons
• Why Does CWC Hate You?: He has a sweetheart and his name isn’t Chris, making him a JERK

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

• What Grinds Your Gears: Ability to shit and piss himself on command
• What Can You Do That You Can't Explain?: Creates pickles
• Why Does CWC Hate You?: Creates pickles, which the Golden Mayor despises.

Pigeon Pijon

• What Grinds Your Gears: Looking good in any outfit
• What Can You Do That You Can't Explain?: Minor reality-warping magic
• Why Does CWC Hate You?: He just doesn’t like The Original Chris'tard Chandler very much

Chapter 1:Hank Venderson

It's a tough life being as handsome and good with the ladies as you, Hank, but someone's gotta do it. You've met with your current sweetheart on a lonely hilltop on the outskirts of CWCville - It's too dangerous to meet within the confines of the city. Somebody might find out, and the consequences would be...well, best not to think about it. As you sit, relaxed on the hilltop, a single leaf from the tree you're both sitting under spirals lazily to the ground. You feel a slight tremor from beneath you, but apart from that, everything is perfect. The city of CWCville is splayed out before you, and for a while, you can almost forget about the horrible, oppressive atmosphere that pervades the city.

The tremor becomes slightly stronger. The clouds above your head begin twisting into spiral patterns. Looking around you, you see the hilltop being...twisted. The land is almost folding into a different shape. A spiral shape, with you and your sweetheart at the centre. You hear an audible rumble as the tremor intensifies, and the sudden quake almost knocks you off your feet. Your sweetheart clings to you for stability, as great fountains of dirt are thrown in all directions around you.

Suddenly, without warning, your sweetheart is grabbed from below and pulled underground.

What do you do, Hank Venderson?

1-1: Player Reaction

Well, the ground just ate my gal pal, so I'm going to the cowardly but seemingly sane thing of running like hell. I've got three sanity, right? So, I'm going to add two madness, and one stress.

1-2: Campaign Response

If there's somewhere you want to be right now, it's anywhere but here! Abandoning your gal pal to her unknown fate - you've got plenty more, anyway - you try to make a break for it. At every turn, you're blocked by a sudden eruption of rock and dirt, the first of which almost knocks you to the ground as it erupts from the earth in front of you. You find yourself running in ever-smaller circles, as you're driven further and further back to the center of the spiral.

Whatever's there, you don't want any of it. Turning to face the oncoming avalanche, you run straight for it, hoping to punch through and make it out the other side.

What happens next is a blur of sound and pain. You hear what sounds like the whirring of a powerful drill behind you. You feel the impact of the stone on your body, as you crash through it. Barely conscious, you shakily run towards CWCville. The city may be bad, but you might be able to hide there...

Result: Player wins, Autism dominates. DM receives 1 coin in Pot of Fail.

Chapter 2:Pigeon Pijon

God damn that Chris. He's the one thing in your life you wish never happened, and you haven't even met the guy. Everything from your name to being stuck in this stupid, run-down excuse for a city is his fault. You can't even criticize him these days without being punished.

Still, there's one person who makes you feel better about the whole thing, and you're on your way to see him now! You feel like you can talk about anything with Jason. Jason "J-Twig" Twigganato is, on reflection, the only good thing about this city. If ever you need someone to talk to and vent your frustrations to, you can always count on J-Twig to listen.

You and J-Twig only ever talk about Chris, but it's so refreshing to be able to speak your mind about him to someone without fear of reprisal! You guess he must feel the same way about the guy, the way he goes on about him.

When you meet J-Twig today, however, something is different. You can't quite place it at first. Maybe it's something about the way he's standing with his back to you, he seems so...listless. So much less exuberant than the J-Twig you know. It's only when you get closer that you notice something really strange. He's standing in a puddle of water. When you approach him, he turns around, slowly. As he does so, a fly buzzes around his head and comes to rest on his arm. His blank, emotionless face stares at you, and a drop of water runs from his soaked hair down the side of his cheek.

"Hey...Pigeon. I've...been thinking...about the whole...Chris thing. We've had it...all...wrong..." he drones. "I've...met a really nice girl, who...showed me how...wrong I was. You should...come...meet her."

As he speaks, the fly on his arm alights on his ear, and crawls inside. He winces slightly as it does so, but it doesn't interrupt his speech.

He begins to reach out for you, to grab you forcefully by the arm. You begin to hear a buzzing sound, like a nest of angry wasps. You see rapid movement behind J-Twig's dead, cold eyes, as thousands of insects swarm inside his head.

What do you do, Pigeon Pijon?

2-1: Player Reaction

Meeting J-Twig was by pure luck; guy was new to town, or so he thought, the two of you meeting at some point in CWCville's high school - not that Pigeon wanted to think about it, considering the sheer amount of unpleasantness he had both witnessed or gone through during those nasty years. Not even a year and the two were practically best buds, hanging out after school and having what little fun could be found when you weren't a popular guy. Since, for some reason, his parents had made it clear to the rest of CWCville that they wanted a girl to begin with and their disappointment at not having one was amazing. J-Twig was smarter than any of these dumbasses, that was for sure.

Which was why seeing the guy like this was unnerving to begin with. But Pigeon was a calm guy. He knew not to mess with other people needlessly, so at first, he let J-Twig talk. The whole fly thing was weird, and it was weird that he was so wet, but holy crap did that fly just enter his ear

Eyes wide as the hand moved forward, Pigeon took a couple of steps back, keeping his distance and arms up. "Um, dude," he said, politely, "you know the local 'one girl per guy' policy, right? I mean, really, congrats! You found the girl for you and all!" At this point, the tone was a little too strong, as Pigeon struggled to smile. "I'd rather not get you in trouble by accident or anything!"

The redhead was already sweating. Bugs. His best friend was infested with bugs. It was all he could do to keep up the straight face and even then he already wanted to retch.

Horrible as it was, though, he was also terrified for himself. Pigeon didn't want to leave J-Twig to this horrible fate, he honestly would want to see his best friend again, but... right now? He was going to run. Fast.

2-3: Campaign Response

J-Twig moves forward slowly. "Not, it's...okay...she's not a...girl...exactly." As Pigeon turns to run, J-Twig's mouth opens wider than it should. A torrent of water spills out of it, and it's all Pigeon can do to keep standing against the current that starts sucking him backwards as he tries to run. He feels the sting of hundreds of tiny mandibles on his legs, and falters, losing his balance. In desperation, Pigeon grabs a drainage pipe hanging above him as he strains to keep himself from being sucked back towards the thing that used to be his best friend.

It's not enough. Pigeon feels his grip slipping, closes his eyes, and strains to hold on for his life. He feels a spark run down his fingers into the pipe, and suddenly the sucking pressure is gone. Opening his eyes, Pigeon sees the water around his feet, along with the thousands of small insects inside it, being sucked into the pipe faster than it was flowing from J-Twig. Eventually, J-Twig has no more left - His strength spent, the husk of what once was a proud man collapses to the ground, a tiny puddle of water pooling around his body and a solitary fly buzzing up into the sky, flying in a straight line as if it had a plan and purpose. Wanting to be anywhere but here right now, Pigeon runs as fast as he can away from the scene. Surely this wasn't real, right?

Result: Player wins, Autism dominates (+1 coin into Pot of Fail)

Chapter 3: Bob "Sammy" Fatman

There aren't many good places left in CWCville, but The Empty Fapcup Bar and Grill sure is one of them. The owner's a good sort - He knows what's up in this city, and knows how to fly just low enough under the radar for people like you to find him, but the authorities to miss him. Out front, it's all fine dining and country cookin', a perfect place for that first, second, or even third date (There's a room upstairs that can be rented by the hour)! A place where the Fanta flows freely, and the microwaves never stop turning out quality dining.

Of course, there's also the back room, for people like you. Smoking may be a "Dirty" habit, hell it may even be banned, but you've got a right to smoke yourself to death if you want to, right? Ever since the city's supply was sent to the moon, it's been hard for you to get hold of a decent amount of tobbacky at once, but your suppliers here keep you in pretty good shape, and they don't charge exorbitant amounts. The Empty Fapcup's back room caters to all vices that The Great Mayor has seen fit to outright ban, from alcohol to drugs. Nobody judges you here. It's a safe place.

That is, until today. You're sat in your favorite chair, enjoying your daily hit of nicotine, when your safe haven is violated in a blur of confusion and sound. It all happens so fast, you barely have time to register it happening

The window is smashed in with enough force to embed glass shards into the wall behind you, and a green blur flies through the place where the pane used to be. Wild Sonichu rolls across the floor, and in one fluid motion, grabs the throat of the man sitting next to you and slams him into a wall. Pressing his face up against the terrified man, he stares at him with his mad, bloodshot eyes.

"What's the matter?", Wild cackles. "DONTCHA WANT A BIT OF WEEEEEED?"

Wild throws his head back in uproarious laughter at his own hilarious joke, before holding the poor man's throat open with his hands and breathing a black, noxious substance down his gullet. He throws the poor man to the floor, who starts retching and coughing up thick, black bile.

Throwing his arms up above his head, Wild sends vines shooting out of his arms, attaching them to the ceiling and walls. With a final yell of "NO SMOKING, BITCHES!", and another blood-chilling cackle, Wild starts to pull. The walls crack, and the building begins to collapse in on itself.

What do you do, Bob Fatman?

Chapter 3-1: Player Reaction

Tossing his cuban cigar towards the green Pokemon, the morbidly obese Sammy covers his eyes and hopes for the best results from the action.

Chapter 3-2: Campaign Response

The building collapses directly on top of the stationary Sammy and the assembled patrons, none of which are fortunate enough to possess Sammy's robust nature. Sammy's large, rotund body is able to withstand the brunt of the collapsing building with less ease than would be comfortable. The crushing masonry almost chokes him, and Sammy is only able to survive by slowly and painfully assuming a kneeling position, where enough free space is cleared for his lungs to inflate normally.

From above him, Sammy hears the green Pokemon rambling to himself. "HAHAHA! Transformers! Buildings on your head!" The nonsensical attempt at humor is joined by another voice - a nasal, whiny voice, mercifully muffled by the masonry between Sammy and it's source.

"That's a good job, there, Wild Soni-Chu. We can't ha...we can't be having trolls like them around for the Sonichu Day celebrations. We'll be getting more loyal citizens to repluc...be getting more loyal citizens to replace them on that day, anyway."

"MMMMMHMHAHAHA, thank you, Father!", replies Wild Sonichu.

By the time Sammy has heaved his corpulent, yet surprisingly strong form out of the rubble of what once was a cool place to hang out at like a fat phoenix, Wild and his Father have long since departed.

Result: Tie (Player wins ties), Stress dominates (Stress increased by 1)

Chapter 4: Tavern Greil

Another day, another dollar. Not that you don't enjoy your work, of course, but being the original co-creator of an intellectual property as hot as Homochu is hard work. What started as a way to relieve stress turned into a cult hit overnight, and soon you had thousands of adoring fans metaphorically beating down your door for the latest issue. Not literally, of course - as soon as the Mayor caught wind of it, the publication was immediately outlawed. But there's something about Homochu's illicit appeal that makes it a hot product, one that people are very interested in purchasing under the counter.

As you climb the stairs to your office, you hear a sound from behind the door. A voice you don't recognize. It sounds female, but is just a little too deep, and slightly rough.

"So if you're not the creator, who is?"

You hear your co-creator, Mitch Anderson, respond. "I...look, he's some guy called Tavern Greil, I don't know where he is, just...AAAAAAGH!". The scream coincides with all of the lights in the building flickering on and off, rapidly.

Bursting through the door, you find Mitch face down in the middle of the room. There are scraps of pink and blue clothing strewn everywhere around him, the window is open, and the latest draft of Homochu #8 is missing from your desk.

Slowly, Mitch begins to stir. Your relief that your friend is okay is short-lived, as rising from the floor, he reveals a gaping hole in the middle of his face, electricity arcing between the widest parts. Slowly, he moves towards you, his arm outstretched and sparking.

What do you do, Tavern Greil?

Chapter 4-1: Player Reaction

"Oh, shit!"

Without hesitation Tavern turns a 360 and dashes for the door, trying to get down the stairs and out the building as fast as he can.

Chapter 4-2: Campaign Response

Turning around 360 degrees, Tavern finds himself once again facing the monstrosity that used to be his friend. Correcting his previous mathematics error, Tavern runs for the door, only to find his path blocked by electricity surging from the walls. With a wall of death in front of him that threatened to zap him to the extreme, and a nightmarish abomination bearing down on him from behind, there was only one option left to Tavern - The open window. As the body of Mitch Anderson made a clumsy, stumbling lunge forwards, Tavern vaulted out of the window, trying desperately to remember his elite Parkay methods.

After a terrifying moment of peril in which Tavern felt gravity exert it's cruel influence upon him, his feet mercifully found purchase on the vertical wall. Running down the wall as fast as he could Tavern dashed into the streets of CWCville, leaving his old life behind him.

Result: Tie (Player wins ties), Autism dominates (+1 coin to Pot of Fail)

Chapter 5: Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Stan "The Pickleman" had, perhaps, one of the most dangerous and daring jobs in the whole of CWCville. He ran an illegal pickling business, an industry detested and banned by Mayor Chandler due to a pickle's apparent resemblance to ducks.

Stan had no idea how pickles are meant to resemble anatidae, but then again, Stan didn't understand a lot of CWCville's nonsensical "laws". One such law was the law about "Recycling" to prevent loss of "unborn children", a law that Stan had avoided following since the day he arrived in this strange, mad city.

Fortunately for Stan, he was not alone is his attempt to circumvent CWCville's most bizarre and quite frankly disgusting law. Within days of moving to the city, he'd found a friend in his best customer, Dave Dosh. Dave, too, found the law on "Recycling" objectionable. Every Friday, Stan and Dave would sit out in the sun after work and enjoy the cans of orange Fanta provided to every citizen, untainted by foul tastes. Flouting the laws in a place like CWCville could be daunting, but it was easier with company.

Stan always enjoyed Dave's company, but Dave often seemed distant and distracted. So, when Stan walked in on Dave seemingly involved in a passionate clinch with a strange, white-furred...erm...girl, he believed he may have found the reason for Dave's mind tending to wander. Stan wasn't one to judge - maybe Dave was just into anthropomorphic hedgehog-type women. With wings.

When Dave was released from the embrace, however, Stan wasn't so sure. There was a look of terror on his friend's face, seemingly frozen there. The mysterious hedgehog girl quickly took off into the sky leaving Dave to cough violently. As soon as he noticed Stan, Dave started trying to talk.

"Stan...Stan, don't come any closer." Dave could barely speak past his coughing fits.

"I can...I can feel them, Stan. She made me...Oh god, she made me..." Dave retched, clutching his stomach. "Stan, you need to run! Run now, or I'll...AAAAAAGH!"

As Stan watched helplessly, Dave's skin was pierced by hundreds, no, thousands of tiny white tendrils. His face twisted into a masque of pure agony, and he rose to his feet with a will that was not his own. Staggering towards Stan slowly, Dave was able to choke out a few last words. "Stan...go!".

Dave broke into a run, aiming straight for Stan, his arms outstretched.

What do you do, Stan the Pickle Man?

Chapter 5-1: Player Reaction

Stan is absolutely stunned and terrified by the display. He doesn't understand exactly what's going on but heeding his...transformed...friend's last words. Stan turns promptly around and bolts it.

(Adding one stress and one madness dice)

Chapter 5-2: Campaign Response

Stan freezes, not knowing what to do. For a good few seconds, he can do nothing but stare at Dave's transformed self in shocked disbelief. It's only when Dave is very close that Stan acts, on instinct more than reason.

Jumping backwards, Stan runs. He runs as fast as he can, in any direction he can find. He runs so fast, he loses himself in the maze of streets that is CWCville, and he does not stop running for anyone or anything. He doesn't even stop when he notices how he now has :briefs:.

Result: Player wins, Madness dominates (-1 reponse, Stan has 2 left)

Intermission One

As the 5 of you flee the nightmarish denizens of CWCville that have targeted you, you know it's not the end. The city of CWCville constantly shifts, it's streets twisting and turning to the most "Convenient" form at all times. That's why you always run into just the right person, that's why everything here is so damn contrived. The city itself twists to serve some unknown "plot", no doubt constructed by Mayor Chandler himself. As such, it can be completely expected that the next corner you turn could very well have you run straight into the waiting arms of the creatures you just fled from.

As the 5 of you round a corner, you run straight into 4 other terrified people, fleeing for their lives.

...fucking CWCville.

The game begins "properly" from this point, now I've done all your character intros! Introduce yourselves, talk, and decide your priorities! The night is drawing in, and CWCville is a hostile place, but you all know it's geography and the places you could go (Or at least, you hopefully do if you've read Sonichu). Good luck!

Tavern Greil

Tavern dodges back, trying to keep the four strangers in sight while looking for something to use as a weapon.

"Oh fuck! Don't you fucking get near me, you're not killing me too!"

Pigeon Pijon

Pigeon had never thought himself a good runner, seeing as how he had never needed it; his black suit was not exactly made for it, and besides, it was easier to lie and sneak around than it was to run. Better to just put on a new costume and make people think he was something else.

Which was why running through CWCville had been so surprising; he was still not quite out of breath, but he had definitely ran for longer than ever before, and at this point he was still able to run a little more... or maybe he hadn't run enough? The city was insane. And unfortunately, Pigeon was not paying enough attention to where he was going, just to get out of the way...

...which was why he collided right with a guy who, unbeknownst to him, had soiled his own pants. He fell to the ground, too dazed to get up at the moment.

Hank Venderson

Jerkheif looks around at the other's looks of distress. "What's got into all you mothafuckas? Oh, and did any of you see just see some really wierd shit, like the ground eating people?" He listens to their responses as he searches for something to use as a weapon.

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

Sammy takes a good look at his companions, sizing them up and determining their value as a meat shield.

"If you do please, would any of you happen to have firearms?"

The one in police attire was a keeper, for sure. Never sure when you need a bit of police brutality.

However, the other three were more useful as meat shields and distractions for the Chaotic Combo. Especially if they had to fight that green maniac again in close quarters.

Hank Venderson

The Jerkheif suddenly remembered that he had his service pistol. He reached for his holster to retrieve his M1911, only to find it empty. "Aw hell no!" He exclaimed aloud. "My pistol's gone!" Jerkheif frantically searched around, but found nothing. "Damn, I had a .45, but it must have fallen out when I was attacked." He felt around his belt for anything on him. He still had his nightstick and a pair of handcuffs. Like they'd be helpful against the horrors that dwelt in this accursed city.

Conclusion

Tavern, upon casting your gaze around for something to use as an offensive weapon, you see within easy reach:

A ridiculously large straw, thick and heavy enough to be swung with force. A strange lego-like creation in the shape of a torch, discarded in a bin. A HEXBOX controller in the same bin. Obviously someone threw it out before doing a 360 and walking away.

Jerkhief, you see within easy reach:

A plastic toy pistol with an intricate transforming mechanism. A plastic gitar. A belt with a ridiculous crayon-drawing-themed buckle.

Which do each of you take as your weapon of choice?

Chapter 6:The Streets Aren't Safe

As our shocked heroes take each other in, the sound of the loudspeakers all over CWCville that disseminate Mayor Chandler's divine edicts pierces the air. The heavenly voice of the Director is heard over the sudden silence:

"Attention all people in my command! It has come to...it has been brought to...it has come to my attention that there are trolls among us who are on the loose!"

The announcement continues to ramble on for about 15 minutes on various unrelated subjects, most notably how the Mayor is "Ever so lonesome". Finally:

"So, anyway, getting back to da main subject. Listen to me now, trolls. Just give yourselves up. You will be tried in court, and you WILL be found most guilty of...of heinous acts! If you don't give yourselves up within 10 minutes, I will...I will get everyone, at my command, to hunt you down MERCILESSLY! Patti will FEAST...on your SOUL....tonight!"

The Mayor proceeds to give your descriptions out over the loudspeakers. The streets are likely not safe for you any more - you'll need to find a place to hide. But of course, you'll need to agree where to go first.

Where are you going to attempt to hide?

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

"We need a vehicle, and fast."

Sammy searches around for any cars in the area, hoping that Jerkief and Tavern will hurry up from looking at all those cheap-ass dollar store toys. Hopefully, he can just kill anything resembling a Sonichu by running it over repeatedly it.

Of course, considering Wild brought down a entire building by himself, he will want to get something isn't a crappy Jalopy.

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

'Ooof!' Stan's collision seems to have knocked him back into his senses, and now realizing the dirty crapped nature of his briefs mutters to himself "dammit, not again," before finally taking the situation in. 'Did they just describe us over the speakers?' He thinks to himself.

Shaking the cobwebs from his formerly madness-addled mind Stan speaks up, addressing everyone including the man he just collided with.

"We need a hide out where Mayor Chandler wouldn't think of looking for us, also..." Stan adjusts his pants. "...preferably somewhere we can obtain a change of clothes."

"Listen, I run an illegal pickling operation hidden in downtown CWCville and I don't believe it's been found out just yet, it may be our best bet to hide out there for now then figure out our next move for how the heck we're going to get out of this city."

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

"Sure, what the hell. Let's ditch these losers."

Following Stan, Sammy hopes he has made the right decisions.

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Stan, showing perhaps a bit more compassion than Sammy, stop and looks back towards the large African American and his two compatriots.

"You guys in?"

Taveren Greil

Tavern picks up the giant straw with a grimace. "We were going to put a joke about this in the next issue..." With a long stress sigh he starts to pace.

"Fuck, man, it's not like I have much else to do. I'm down for whatever you think's best, man, I just don't wanna end up like Mitch..."

Pigeon Pijon

Pigeon looked a little dazed as he was lying on the ground, the smell having been too much for the poor guy to take after that whole mess. After a few seconds clearing his throat, lungs, and whatever else it was of the smell, he pushed himself up, trying to use one of the walls to stand up properly.

He might've been dazed, but at least he heard enough to figure out the words 'hunt you down' and 'hideout'. The redhead coughed one last time, just to be sure, before speaking. "I might as well tag along... it's not like going home is worth shit to me anymore." Hell, for all he knew, his parents would gladly give him up to the Mayor for his 'oh so deserved punishment'. He was done with this place, that was for sure.

His eyes stopped on the many objects that were lying on the ground. He wasn't really sure how useful they were going to be, but he had always thought that if one gets a weird feeling about random shit lying on the ground, then either they had problems or the objects were legit useful. And honestly, he was pretty sure both cases would apply now.

Pigeon took the belt, figuring it was more his style, and checked it out. As it was, even if it was such a ridiculous buckle [so terrible he was considering calling it a buckley from how stupid it looked], his innately good clothes made it look good enough.

"Let's just hurry up before something else appears!"

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

"Good, also if we smell a rat and my place has been found out I have a plan B." Stan looks around to his companions. "Remember those years back when BILLY MAYS managed to overthrow Mayor Chandler briefly then died under mysterious circumstances leading to Chandler retaking his Mayorship?"

Stan exhales deeply. "Well, in order to get the public on his side mayor Chandler had built the BILLY MAYS tower. What purpose the tower was supposed to serve is anyone's guess and once the public forgot about BILLY MAYS it was largely forgotten. It's likely abandoned. So if those freaks have taken my shop over we book it to BILLY MAYS Tower."

"Any objections?"

Hank Venderson

"No, I'm with you guys." Jerkheif replied. He picks up the toy pistol and slides it into his holster. It fits well. He takes it back out. So, this was it. He had a toy pistol, a nightstick, and a pair of handcuffs against god knows what. Jerkheif points the pistol at a trashcan and pulls the trigger.

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

"Excellent, so we're in agreement. By the by mister, ermn, large African American fellow? I apologize but I didn't catch your name. Did you or your friend there with the large straw find anything else we might be able to use? I believe myself and this red haired fellow I collided with, sorry about that by the way, could use something to protect ourselves with and anything is better than naught I'd wager."

Hank Venderson

"Name's Hank Venderson, but around here I'm known as the Jerkheif. Glad to meet you. Now, I saw a plastic guitar, a HEXBOX controller, and a big chunk of Legos laying around in these bins if that's any help. As for me, I had a .45 earlier, but it must have fallen out of my holster when I got attacked by, well I don't know. I've currently got this toy pistol that doesn't seem to do anything, a pair of handcuffs, and a nightstick."

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

"Thanks Hank, I'm Stan," grabs the plastic guitar controller from the bin. "I suppose it's worth a few good whacks. At any rate it's better than nothing. If anyone else wants anything I'd grab it now, we should be off soon."

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

Sammy, choosing the controller, wonders if it has any special powers of it's own.

Tavern Greil

Tavern shifts around some. "Shit, I guess I forgot to mention my name. I'm, uh, I'm Tavern. You know, like the comic guy?"

Hank Venderson

"Oh yeah, Homochu. I loved issue five!"

Chapter 7:The BILLY MAYS Tower

Moving as quickly as you dare through back alleys and people's gardens so as not to be spotted, you all make your way to Stan's pickle shop. What you see when you get there is not encouraging. The building is surrounded by listless-looking people in bright multicoloured uniforms, wearing faceless helmets that conceal their identities. As if that wasn't bad enough, a giant robot made almost entirely of go-karts looms over Stan's shop. The figures don't move, as if they're waiting for someone - or something.

There's also significant movement from within the shop itself, and you see Stan's entire supply of pickles being carried out of the shop and deposited into the foot compartments of the Kart Megazord. Clearly, this place is no longer safe, and so it's time for plan B - The BILLY MAYS memorial tower.

Slowly and carefully, you make your way there. The tower is in much worse state than it was upon it's grand opening. For a building so much fuss was made of at first, it's almost sad to see it in a state like this. The top floors have crumbled away in their entirety, leaving only the hollow shell of supporting cables and reinforced steel bar sticking forlornly out of the top of the remaining bottom 3 floors. This would most certainly be a good place to hide - But there's a more immediate problem.

Stationed directly between you and the tower are 6 men in tattered, faded uniforms. Their lapels read "PVCC", but the writing is almost unreadable with age. The six ex-Jerkops stand ramrod straight, occasionally turning to the left and right, no doubt on the lookout for "Trouble". Occasionally a fly buzzes around one of their heads only to disappear from sight suddenly, and as they walk they leave wet footprints behind.

You remember hearing that some of the surviving Jerkops were "Unbrainwashed" somehow. Is this what they meant? What did they do to these people? How did they do it?

And, perhaps more importantly in this situation, what do YOU do?

Tavern Greil

Tavern nudges Stan while eying the 6 men in front of the tower. "Those guys, you don't think they'd help us, do you? They look...weird."

The artist glances around the tower, trying to find some blind spot in the Jerkops' areas of patrol.

Pigeon Pidjin

Pigeon didn't really share his name with the others as the group tagged along, mostly due to having stayed in the back. He hadn't exactly felt like speaking much, at the time, and the less he made himself seen the better. Besides, they needed someone to watch their back, and he honestly doubted the big guy - who smelled of tobacky, he was sure - was very good at that.

Although finding their way to the pickle shop had required Stan's leadership, there was less need for such when it came to the BILLY MAYS memorial tower. Everyone knew how to get there, and while the group stuck together up to that point, it was mostly for the sake of keeping each other safe. The state of the tower wasn't something Pigeon was unaware of, as he lived in a building with direct line of sight to the tower itself, but seeing it so close now just made its decrepit state look even worse.

He wasn't prepared to see the Jerkops in that state, however. J-Twig immediately came to mind, and again he saw his best friend turn into that monstrous water spout, a living hive...

"No... not again..." he groaned, eyes closed, shaking his head. "I can't believe it... not again! This can't be real!"

Hank Venderson

Jerkheif was relived to see the PVCC uniforms. His old comrades in arms! "Maybe they can help us" he thought to himself. Yet, there was something unnatural about them. They moved strangely, they dripped with water, the didn't talk. The hairs on the back of Hank's neck rose up. He didn't like this. Suddenly, the small man, J-Something or other, started convulsing and moaning "No, not again". Jerkheif turns to the man. "Yo, quite down, you'll blow our cover. What's wrong?"

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

'...all those delicious pickles.' Stan thought to himself sadly at the sight of his beloved shop being looted by these fiends. But now was no time for such sentimentality, plan B it was, off to the BILLY MAYS memorial tower.

Once they arrived Stan was at first relieved to see the PVCC uniforms, being outlawed as trolls as he and his comrades now were perhaps they could find allies amongst them. The enemy of my enemy is a friend after all.

As he got a better look at them, however, his relief turned to dread. There was something off about them...something strange.

"Somehow, I don't believe they're going to be friendly." Stan replied grimly.

Pigeon Pidjin

Pigeon gasped. "Those guys... they're just like my best friend was when I found him..." he explained, shivering. "They're filled with bugs, man... and they're like, hoses for some reason. If they can, they'll open their mouths and..."

He wanted to puke. Oh how he wanted to puke after that. If only he *had* anything to puke out.

"Water comes out. Filled with their bugs. They're going to hit us and if they do it hurts and it's going to be bad." He shook his head. "We can't get hit. We... we can't stay here. We can't. We can't."

He wanted to run away. But run where? Their last hideout was screwed and so was this one. Was there anywhere to hide in?

Hank Venderson

Jerkheif shakes his head. "Damn man, hose people? Fuck." Jerkheif sits down on a nearby crate. "Earlier, the fucking ground opened up from underneath me and killed my girl. Just like that. I thought that was scary, but shit, I guess that's nothing compared to whatever the hell those...things are." Jerkheif stands up. "Alright, we need a plan C. What about the sewers? We could use them as a way to traverse the streets undetected. But then again, I don't know what's down there and I really don't want to find out without a flashlight and shotgun. We could try to put the poor bastards over there out of there misery, but they outnumber us and I really don't want to know what they can do. If we had some better weapons, we might be able to ambush them, but we've pretty much got nothing. Now, they do spray water, and I'd be interested to know if we could use that in combination with electricity to take them out. Like, tricking them into spraying a downed powerline or something." Jerkheif glances around the area. "We should probably look around for tools, weapons, anything that could be useful. Something like a crowbar would really be helpful. Anyway, back to our plan C. Now, who knows the area? I've been on a few patrols around here, but I don't know the area well. There's some sort of half abandoned motel a few blocks to the east. It's scuzzy, lawless, and inhabited by a whole shitload of shady types, but it's a place to hide. Prostitutes operate out of it, so members of Chandler's "inner circle" are frequent "visitors". However, they haven't cracked down on the place because it's where they're getting booty. I'd suggest the motel as a possibility, provided we can handle a few methheads and crooks."

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

"Well, this is a fine pickle." Stan said. If it weren't for those things surrounding the tower it would be perfect. Always a monkey-wrench thrown into the plans it seems.

Stan groped his chin in thought. "Well, I hate to say it, but unless anybody has any bright ideas on how we can take care of those thing Hank's idea might be our best bet. While it may put us at some risk it's likely our safest option given the circumstances." Stan lets out a long stress sigh, "it's a pity too. I thought the BILLY MAYS Tower would be perfect."

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

"Let's move, before something jumps us. In addition, if we can find some items like boards and shit around your place...we can make much better shit than this trash."

Sammy thinks about improvised firearms, realizing that anything he could make would be of poor quality. Thus, it is a far better idea to exploit the disdain of Sonichus for pickles. Combining sheer bludgeoning force with the pickles that Stan had in ample supply ought to do the trick, especially if he had a large supply of jars to break and use for spikes.

Likewise, any form of steel water pipe could be used to make a variety of explosives for their five-man rebellion against the mayor. Hell, even sawdust was combustible. That is, if the same thing that had made the chief's pistol vanish didn't take effect.

Chapter 8: The Loneliest Road Motel

Nope. Nope nope nope nope. Pigeon's graphic description of what's become of the Jerkops was enough for you, you're out of here. You remember hearing about a motel on the edge of town - Not the nicest place, and you'll have to keep your head down, but it'll do.

On the road to the motel, you notice a young Cherokian woman running down the road towards you. You can tell she's Cherokian, as she is wearing the ceremonial golden armor that all Cherokians wear at all times. Than again, perhaps she's only half Cherokian, as she only seems to be wearing half of it...

Perhaps not. The reason for her state of undress is close behind her. Hurling items from a small gift basket in the direction of the young woman with inhuman force, Punchy Sonichu runs towards you.

"Get back here, you ungrateful tart!" he yells. Punchy is clearly drunk, and his normally superhuman speed (and his often-referenced mastery of random-access humor) appears to have deserted him due to his over-consumption. As you watch, horrified, the young woman trips, and Punchy drives his fist into her face, his muscles flexing and his arms elongating, almost as if your perception of perspective was somehow warped when it came to Punchy.

Panting, Punchy throws the remains of the gift basket onto the corpse, and turns to look at all of you. Thankfully, due to his inebriated state, he doesn't quite recognize you.

"What the hell are you looking at, FREAKS?" yells Punchy, his fist-spikes elongating and warping with his rage, as Punchy staggers slightly.

What do you do?

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

"Listen, you shameful disgrace of a fighter. If you want to prey on somebody, do it to somebody who can take the pain."

Sammy has no literally no idea where this sudden outburst of bravery and altruism emerged from, and it was quite different to tell from stupidity. Likewise, there were three factors obvious to him at the current point. One, there was a young woman dead. Two, that red-furred maniac could do unspeakable things to her corpse if they took no action. Three, Punchy had a bitching motorcycle.

Therefore, he decided to engage the Sonichu in melee combat where the two of them were presumably equals in Punchy's current state. Making a earnest effort to run and build up momentum, the corpulent man readied himself to make a right cross.

Tavern Greil

"Hey hey hey hey hey!" Tavern throws himself at Sammy, trying to stop the man from starting something with the Sonichu.

"Chill man, don't you go getting us in trouble with a fucking Sonichu right now!" Desperately he points down the road. "We're at the edge, man! Let's just go, huh?"

Turning to Punchy, he bows and scrapes in what he hopes to be the most placating way possible. "Look man, we're so sorry, we're not looking at anything, man, we were just walking, we didn't see nothing, man!" He gives the others a pointed look. "Right?"

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

"You're just going to leave her corpse with him? All that armor..."

Sammy shakes his head and continues down the road, making a mental note to direct future explosives toward Punchy in particular.

Pigeon Pidgin

Pigeon wasn't completely reasonable when they left, but the farthest they got from the bugged people the calmer he got. He was still not talking as they went further into the city, but his face at least changed from the nervous, panicked look he had to a disappointed one. The redhead was not at all proud of how he reacted, and so for now he was going to at least try and pull his weight a little better.

Of course, he didn't expect 'pulling his weight' to mean dealing with one of the Mayor's personal entourage. Even if drunk, he was sure that the guy could break them dead if he so wanted, and hearing the Homochu guy try to serve as an ambassador didn't exactly encourage him. He stayed on the back, watching the Sonichu; if the others nodded like that guy wanted, then sure, he would. But if not... well, it'd give him a chance to think of a sneak attack, or something. Getting out of here alive wasn't looking very likely now...

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

"Now!"

Punchy had barely turned his head when a pair of fat arms wrapped around his wrists, with the legs weighing him down. His portly attacker was planning for the red Pokemon to not press any advantages, hoping that his allies would follow suit in attacking his foe.

Sammy reviewed any known facts about his opponent, realizing that Punchy's fighting prowess and spikes was all he had going for him compared to his brethren. This meant that despite any augmentations, he was still beholden to the possibility of assault by a large group of humans.

In other words, this was a fight they could win.

Hank Venderson

With Sammy distracting the Sonichu, Jerkheif comes up from behind and, taking care to avoid the spikes, prepares to grasp the Sonichu's head and drive his index fingers into the soft, sensitive eyes.

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

With an audible *gulp* Stan swings his Guitar Hero controller aiming for Punchy's knees.

(Btw, not sure who's lead and who's assisting here? I'm guessing Sammy is leading since he initiated the attack?)

Tavern Greil

"Shit!" Tavern starts swinging at the Sonichu's head with the giant straw, praying that enough head trauma would make the creature forget that this ever happened.

Pigeon Pidjin

Welp, the scene turned into a fight faster than Pigeon realized it. He knew the situation could've gone down to that, but it was still a bit unnerving to actually fight a Sonichu, at this point. Even if he had never seen one of the bloody things before, he had always had some degree of fear; after all, one didn't survive long in a place like this without knowing how to be quiet. But still, being labeled a troll for good had changed facts.

He had never paid that much attention to the warnings about trolls before. Yes, they existed, but he had never worried about these labels; after all, technically he was one his entire life, and though he had been bullied and yelled at for that long, he had mostly grown cold to it, preferring to take the punishment and let others have their fun. Maybe that was why he had never been labeled one before. He was just bullied, that was all.

Still, now they had a drunk, possibly drugged, quite definitely a dumbass murderous Sonichu trying to break them dead. A problem that could only be solved through villains... er, violence. And that was what they would do, right?

He wasn't the only one thinking to sneak around the red thing, with the Pickleman aiming for its knees ('those things always have weak knees', Chris-Chan always said, probably the reason why he bothered) and the others going for the head while the fat guy who looked like Chris grabbed the wrists, probably the best idea given he was the one less likely to get hurt from direct combat. But Pigeon wasn't that tough, or even that big, compared to the others. Getting beaten up was easy, but not advisable. And all he had was a stupid belt with a stupid buckle.

...though it was soft enough. In fact...

While the others advanced, Pigeon undid the belt and grabbed the first piece of trash he could find that was small enough. He could make a sling out of the belt, but it wasn't going to be a reliable shot this one time. Still, in an emergency, it did work enough; he aimed right at the Sonichu's head, trying for a position where he wouldn't hit anyone else first. Second, maybe, it was acceptable.

Chapter 9: Safe At Last?

Remember how combat looks in TV shows and cartoons? They flashy lights of the hero's super powers colliding with their foe, the over-long special moves?

Real combat is nothing like that. Real combat is brutal, fast, and above all, chaotic. So it goes with this. Pouncing on Punchy from behind, Jerkhief attempts to dig his eyes out with his bare hands. Out of either blind panic or a sense of loyalty to the people who are seemingly the only sane people left in this mad, mad city, the rest of the group follows suit. Sammy attempted to pin Punchy's arms behind his back, Tavern swung wildly and inexpertly with his giant straw, Stan took one giant swing with his plastic gitar, and Pigeon hurled a rock from his makeshift sling with all his might.

Punchy's reaction was not as swift as it would have been if he were sober, but it was swift all the same. He had one chance to save himself from the insane mob descending on him wielding children's toys and straws, and he took it. His spiked fist flew through the air at the fat man who had declared the assault, fast enough to knock even the sturdiest building to rubble.

He hit nothing. His overconsumption of alcohol had blurred his vision, and his mach-speed punch was a good foot to the right of where it would have needed to be to save his life.

Within 30 seconds, Punchy was a quivering, beaten mess on the ground, his assailants pounding at his body with merciless fervor, not stopping until they were sure he wouldn't move any more and the red mist that had settled upon them had dissipated. Punchy's body flickers slowly out of existence, like a television losing signal, and is replaced with a piece of cheap-looking paper with a crudely drawn crayon version of Punchy.

What have you done?

Result: TIE (Players win ties), Madness dominates (All participants lose 1 Madness response - Fight used in this case. Stan is one bad decision away from Snapping for the first time.)

Chapter 10: Definitely Not

Nobody speaks on the way to the motel. There doesn't seem to be anything to be said. This day seems to have spiralled further and further out of control the longer it's gone on, and the night seems almost a relief.

Renting the only room available for the night, and flopping onto the sofa and bed provided to rest your weary feet, Sammy makes the mistake of turning on the TV. It's showing a news broadcast on all channels - a Mayoral General Address.

"...WILL NOT REST until these EVIL PERPETRATORS have been BROUGHT to JUSTICE!" yells Mayor Chandler, removing his glasses for dramatic effect before putting them back on again to read his prepared speech. "Now, loyal citizens, do not worry. I, the Captain of this Ship, am doing everything in my power to undo this mistake and revive our friend from his Troll-influenced death. But in the meantime! Be on the lookout! This is Mayor Chandler, signing off. Peace."

During his rant, the mayor waves a piece of paper similar to the one you saw earlier, with a crudely-drawn Punchy adorning it.

Outside, you hear a dog bark. Then, you hear thousands of dogs, barking in unison, getting ever closer. You hear thudding footsteps on the landing outside your room, on the veranda where the doors to the other rooms are. Finally, you hear a deep, womanly voice from just outside your door, as the dog barks grow ever louder.

"I know you're here somewhere, you infidels. You will not mess with my master or my family again." You hear the sound of scratching on your door, and the doors to the other rooms in the tacky run-down motel you're staying in. You're in a small room with barely enough space for all 6 of you to move around comfortably. There's one window that looks out onto the twinkling lights of CWCville, and out of it, you can see that the world has taken on a sickly green hue.

What do you do?

Hank Venderson

Jerkheif looked down at his left hand. His left index finger nail still had some Punchy's jellied eye under it. It had been odd feeling the iris wrap around his finger as he plunged his finger into the Sonichu's bloodshot right eye. Not really bad, just... Satisfying. Yesterday, Hank wouldn't have described himself as a violent man. He had only killed once before, a man on PCP who had charged him with a knife. That had been in self defense, and he was still haunted by it. This was something different. He had seen Punchy murder a person in cold blood, and he just snapped. He didn't want to let the evil bastard get away with it. And they didn't. They rushed the red asshole and beat him to a sniveling pulp. It felt good, seeing the bastard have justice delivered right to him. Before Punchy died, Jerkheif had ripped a chunk of his jawbone out, ignoring the Sonichu's frantic moans and attempts to bite him. The jaw piece hadn't turned to paper like the rest of Punchy. It now dangled around Jerkheif's neck. Jerkheif was wiping the rest of Punchy's eye goo off on the bed when he heard the dogs. "Aww hell nah" whispers the Jerkheif. He quickly looks around the room to take stock of whatever materials they have on hand.

Pidgeon Pidjin

Pigeon didn't know when he got involved in the beating. He knew why; sheer frustration at the hell his life was, the loss of his best friend, the humiliation at losing it in front of everyone and possibly ruining their chances at an actually safe hideout... when he realized that the Sonichu couldn't fight back, he indulged in it. He was the one who had stomped on its face last, eyes as red as everyone else, almost laughing at the sheer catharsis of the situation.

But that only made him feel worse now. He hated feeling so happy about killing something. Death wasn't to be enjoyed, even if his life sucked! He had just meant to knock the fucker out, not... not...

That was why he said nothing on the way to the motel. Why he was even more quiet than before, looking completely aloof and blank. Whose fault was it they had murdered someone?

Of course, then things went bad again. The dogs meant only one thing - the Mayor's guard dog. He had never put much faith on the whole 'eat your souls' thing, but after today?

"Block the door!" the redhead yelled, pushing the couch as fast as he could against it, hoping the others would give him some help.

He was willing to believe anything after today.

Hank Venderson

Jerkheif gets up and sneaks into the bathroom. He looks through the assortment of never touched cleaning supplies, looking for something useful.

Tavern Greil

Tavern tries not to panic as he hurries to help Pigeon move the couch. "Oh my GodJesus we're dead, man," he moans, looking around the room he's in for anything better than a giant straw to fight with.

Hank Venderson

Jerkheif suddenly stops. He's found what he's looking for. Window ammonia based glass cleaner and a big old plastic bottle of bleach. He grins. "Alright, one of you fools better need to take a piss."

As he starts to get up, Jerkheif notices a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He grabs it, along with a half-empty bottle of cologne that says flammable. Hank looks around the room. Fortunately, this was a place that had seen a lot of alcoholics and not enough maids. Empty and half empty bottles of beer, whiskey, vodka, and other beverages were scattered across the room. The delivery systems.

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Stan, for his part, wasn't doing so well.

He was not a violent man, no, far from it. Stan considered himself always something of a pacifist...and here he had just aided in beating something to death. Was it right? He didn't have time to decide, he could only act and as he saw the others around him swept up into the fray it was all he could do to lend his hand. Or run. But Stan wasn't the kind of guy, he doesn't abandon allies.

The entire chain of events that just passed had called into question everything Stan once believed. He had always held killers and violent criminals in the lowest levels of contempt but now, here he was, having just aided in the savage beating to death of a sentient creature. Was it right? Stan didn't know...perhaps if in killing Punchy they had stopped him from murdering his next female victim in cold blood. In that sense perhaps they did do good but Stan didn't know, Stan couldn't think right now...he was something of a blank slate. The entire walk back he said nothing, made eye contact with nobody and fell immediately to sleep.

The dogs woke him followed by frantic yells of the red-headed lad to "Block the Door!" Stan immediately leaped into action, dragging over whatever he could find to help brace the door against entry. He didn't want his companions to know but from his trembling body language and hundred-mile-eyed expression it was plain enough to anyone paying close enough attention. Stan was nearly ready to crack.

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

Sammy reflected on the events of the night, in particular that of Punchy's death. The engagement had been fast and dirty, with the result almost making him feel a bit guilty for some dirty tactics. However, it also gave him a bit of a rise as it meant that a Sonichu could be hurt and even killed by them working in tandem with each other.

"I say we ready a couple of tricks for our pursuers. Start ripping the room apart and get us some more conventional weapons made."

Sammy gets to the coffee table, starting to pull out nails and ripping off a leg from the piece of furniture. Within a couple of minutes, the obese man had made a makeshift Morning star from these meager materials. Smiling with glee at his new weapon, Sammy admired the haphazard placement of the nails.

Listening to Jerkhief, he moved over to the large policeman and smiled in glee at what he had found.

Hank Venderson

Jerkheif poured the rubbing alcohol into an empty whiskey bottle. He then grabbed a few sugar packets from the dirty coffee maker and poured them in, to help create thick and acrid smoke. He corked the bottle, tied a piece of cloth ripped from the bed sheets around the neck, and dribbled some alcohol on the rag. Now he just needed an ignition system. He looked at the coffee maker and noticed the fraying chord...

Pigeon Pidjin

Between himself, the Homochu guy, and the Pickleman, Pigeon thought they could keep the barrier for now. Of course, it'd help if one of the actual big guys helped as opposed to the small guys, but he wasn't willing to debate it.

"Okay, I think we've got something..." he muttered, looking at the pile of things he and the others had collected... until he realized what the Jerkhief had said earlier.

"Take a piss-are you serious, man?!" the redhead almost yelled, shaking his head. "What the hell!? We've barely managed to survive as it is, and now you're asking us to get naked and piss here in hopes that the dogs go away? What's wrong with you?"

It didn't help that the Pickleman was looking terrible. He still smelled bad and they hadn't found his change of clothes, meaning that the smell had only grown worse with time and exhaustion. Worse came to worse, he was probably going to faint or something, and then one of them was going to have to carry his ass until he woke up.

Today was growing to be the worst day of his life. And he thought being named after his last name because he wasn't a girl was bad enough...

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Stan, finally pulling enough of his senses together to look over at Sammy and Jerkief saw the latter was in the middle of making some kind of concoction.

"Just what are you planning?" Stan asked.

Hank Venderson

"Alright," said The Jerkheif, "we have bleach an ammonia. By combining those two we make chlorine gas. Now, by throwing it out there, the smell would probably confuse Patti, and the gas would injure her. Of course, we run the risk of suffocating." Jerkheif stands up straight. "Back when they first used chlorine gas in WW1, many people didn't know what was happening. But there was one Canadian doctor at the front who realized it was chlorine and told his fellow troops to soak rags covered in piss and wrap them around their face. The uria in the piss helps provide protection against chlorine gas, and serves as a crude gas mask." Jerkheif holds up several towels scavenged from the bathroom and looks around. "I learned it back on the force when they gave us NBC Emergency training after that shit in Tokyo. Anyway, we have material for Molotov cocktails, and we can smash open the chord to the coffee maker and plug it in to serve as a way of igniting them. I saw it on Breaking Bad."

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Stan starts laughing uncontrollably at this, yet another thing he hates, urine, and now the only key to survival was covering their faces in it.

Without even waiting for an invitation, Stan drops his DIRTY CRAPPED BRIEFS, and starts unloading a stream of piss right onto the towels.

Hank Venderson

"Wait, hold it, hold it. Plug up the sink and then piss in it, it'll soak the towels better."

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

"Oh goody, explosives!"

Sammy smiles and starts rubbing his hands together, plotting.

Hank Venderson

"We should also fill up a few bottles with water, to wash out our eyes of we escape."

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Stan holds it as best he can and does as the Jerkief instructs, plugging the sink up and soaking the towels. Still chuckling at the absurdity of this all.

Pigeon Pidjin

Pigeon just stares silent, as the Pickleman starts peeing right then and there, the smell nastier than it was supposed to be.

It was only once he was done that he managed to speak. "You know, you could have used one to clean yourself up..." he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Damn, this place was getting to them if he wasn't even bothering to get less nervous.

Of course, regardless of what happened, they had a pair of DIRTY, CRAPPED BRIEFS on their hands, and...

...wait...

"Guys, this is a dog we're talking about," the redhead managed to say, after calming down enough. He grabbed the pants as well as he could. "We can just shove this into their face and it'll be worse than it feels like with us. It might work out better."

Of course, this now opened a new question: how the hell were they going to get the Pickleman some pants to hide his pickle?

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

"Alright, I think these towels are as soaked as they're gonna be!" Stan calls out from the bathroom.

Hank Venderson

"Poop? Maybe." The Jerkcheif replied. "We could get it in one of the Movitovs and stink up the place with burning crap. If they don't flee because of that, well..." Jerkheif motions to one of the chlorine bombs, two beer bottles filled with ammonia and bleach connected with a strip of fabric and ready to be thrown like a bolo. The other one was lying near by, and only had bleach in it. When the time was right, ammonia would be poured in, the bottle would be quickly corked, and it would be thrown out the window.

Stan "The Pickleman: Bronswick

Stan emerged from the bathroom, having fashioned a garbage bag he found under the sink into a crude pair of pants.

"So, if I'm understanding the plan correctly. Once they break down that door we throw the crude mustard-gas grenades at them with our faces wrapped in the piss towels, then drop another one out the window to disperse the dogs and make a break for it?"

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

"This is the most juvenile idea ever. I love it."

Sammy could almost jump for joy at this turn of events, considering they got to make flaming shit bombs.

Hank Venderson

"That's the basically the idea. However, we'll throw the first gas bomb out the window when they're almost through the door to serve as a distraction. We'll also throw a few Molotovs to keep the away. Then we'll take off, thow the other gas bomb, and throw a few cocktails behind us to keep them from following."

Tavern Greil

Tavern raised a hand from his spot by the barricade. "Uh, do you guys need me to do something? Like, I could piss on my own rag or something. Shit, anything except sitting here would be nice."

Pigeon Pidjin

Pigeon shook his head, as he returned to his position. "Look, just because we're getting ready to run the hell away doesn't mean we should keep this weak. One of you come over here to help keep it steady for now." He was looking at the big fat guy, right now, figuring he would be the strongest one - seeing him bend the Sonichu's arms like rubberband had been part of his reasoning. "They're still knocking. We're gonna hold it until they start breaking through, then you guys let loose with these. Agreed?"

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

"Actually Tavern, I do have an idea for you...you're quite agile yes?"

Stan cleared his throat and continued. "I was thinking that we might be able to get a better idea of the situation outdoors if one of us was, say, willing to be lowered down the window..."

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

"Alright, they're going to be in quite some pain if they do come through."

Clasping his makeshift club, Sammy holds his girth against the barricade. He hopes that the rest of their little crew will hurry up and get done with finishing off the enemy outside, otherwise he'll have to enter combat alone.

He starts to think about what he could make with some duct tape. Certainly, he could create far more elaborate weapons from their surroundings and combine them into even more elaborate weapons for the team to wield. The corpulent weapons nut made a mental note to suggest that they go to the shop-filled Get-Tar region after they escaped their current peril.

Tavern Greil

Tavern shook his head vigorously at the pickleman. "No thanks man, I'd like to be alive for when this little plan gets started."

Chapter 11: We Have a Problem

Tavern and Jerkhief busied themselves with the construction of their makeshift bombs whilst Sammy and Pigeon hurled themselves against the barricade they'd quickly constructed - And a good thing they had, because within seconds the cheap door to the motel room was beginning to splinter under the assault. What was on the other side was...weird. Nothing. Sammy and Pigeon could feel the weight of tens of dogs throwing themselves against their barricade, trying to break through, but they couldn't see anything but the outside and a strange green glow.

The barricade wasn't going to hold forever, but it held long enough for Tavern and Jerkhief to complete their plan. Padding out rags drenched in bodily fluids and holding them across their mouths, they threw their makeshift chlorine bombs in the direction of the door. The pressure on the barricades subsided, and our heroes heard a slight whining noise from outside as they felt the chlorine sting their eyes. Knowing they'd be back soon, our heroes made a break for it out of the door, hoping their plan would have distracted whatever was outside and would keep it from chasing them.

It hadn't. Within seconds, they heard the bark of dogs behind them, and the sound of hundreds of invisible hounds chasing after them. Sammy was the slowest, and the first to fall, feeling jaws fasten around his ankle and his body tumbling forwards. Then Pigeon, Stan, Jerkhief, and finally Tavern, who was in front of everyone due to his parkay skills, suffered the same fate. Thrashing and kicking they were all dragged back towards a female figure in a brown cloak, which whipped out behind her in the wind. A small child with a round face stood by her side, peeking out from behind her in a manner that suggested he was scared by what was happening.

As the dogs deposited our heroes at her feet, she threw back the hood on her cloak. Her face was long, pointed, and entirely canine, with large fangs that dripped a strange green liquid onto the floor as if she was salivating at the thought of what was to come. The child stared at out heroes with wide eyes, with an almost regretful expression.

"Found you." stated Patti-Chan, in an almost matter-of-fact manner. You all feel a great weight pressing down on your chest - like five, ten tons - keeping you from moving. As Patti stares at you with her maddening green eyes, everything except her and the child starts to fade into blackness.

"Take them to her. They'll learn to be good again, just like my master wants." says Patti. The weight on your chests becomes crushing, and your world fades to black.

End of day 1. Days remaining until the Sonichu Day: 1

Result: Players lose, degree 2. Penalty imposed: +1 Stress for all participants. Autism dominates, +1 Coin of Fail.

Chapter 12: Bubbles Rosechu

You all awake to the feeling of water trickling down your heads, arms, and bodies. You ache all over, but you're not dead yet. Taking in your surroundings, you notice you're in a bubble, suspended in shallow water - You can see your companions are similarly confined near to you. Floating on the top of the water, you can see thousands of small, white objects. You also see the occasional fly buzzing around the chamber you're in. But the thing that catches your attention most is the deformed, blue monstrosity skipping towards you, unkempt thick blue hair bouncing cheerfully as she splashes into the water beside you.

Bubbles strokes Tavern's bubble. "There there, try to relax." she says. "I know it's all been very upsetting, but you're ILL you see - You need to get better, and I'm here to help you."

Her voice is soothing, almost hypnotic, and you find yourself starting to believe absolutely everything she says. Trying to shake off her control, you try to maintain your own thoughts, and to remember why you're doing what you're doing.

A fly buzzes around Bubble's head - her long tail swishes up to swat it away. She giggles like a small child, before chastising the insect. "Oh, not yet, silly! We can be friends soon, but they need to learn first! Then they'll be able to play with all of you, and we'll have the best time!" The smile on Bubbles' face never changes from it's wide, set grin.

As Bubbles wanders around your underwater prisons, stroking them gently and telling you all how you simply must love Chris and stop all this awful behavior, you feel yourselves begin to believe her more and more. If this continues, then...

What do you do?

Hank Venderson

Jerkheif struggles to maintain control of his thoughts. "Why...are...you...doing this? Yo, all we want to do is leave. Let us out of this hood and we stop being a problem."

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

Sammy notices that they didn't take his club and makes a motion to pop his and Jerkhief's bubbles, hoping that whatever's at the surface is better than this.

Tavern Greil

Panicking, Tavern begins to blurt out whatever excuses sound the least bit plausible in his head. "Look, man, I love Chris as much as the next guy, that's why I was trying to leave, you know? I know I was messing up his perfect town, so I was trying to get out of his hair! I'm not ill, man, I love the mayor!"

Tavern's eyes dart around, trying to find anything in his surroundings that would help him and his companions slow Bubbles down should they have a chance to run.

Bob "Sammy" Fatman

Holding his breath and sticking himself to the wall of the pool, Sammy carefully strides behind the blue Pokemon and raises his club above his head. He signals for the Jerkhief to follow him so they can distract her.

Hank Venderson

Jerkheif raises his nightstick, an mouths "wait for it!" to Sammy.

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Seeing that his more physically adept comrades had managed to pop their bubbles and were inching their way behind Bubbles, Stan decides to do his part and keep her distracted.

"Chris is a Jew-hating Anti Semite! I should know since I'm a Jew!" Stan shouts at Bubbles, saying whatever he can think of that might piss her off and keep her attention focused on him. "And he's a lardass! And he's not the True and Honest Original Creator of Sonichu!"

Response

Bubbles advances forwards, talking to nobody in particular. "Why am I doing this? I just want to help you, poor dears! You're all so terribly unwell, and it makes me ever so sad to see! Sssh, not now dear." She waves another fly away from her head.

Her attention suddenly snaps to Stan. "See? THIS IS WHAT I MEAN! Do you hear this? It's so awful! It's terrible! It's...it's..." she covers her ears, and looks like she's about to tear up.

"Wait. Something's wrong. One, two, three...weren't there five of you?" she says, snapping back to reality with a sudden realization. "Where have...?"

She turns around slowly, to see Sammy and Jerkhief stood behind her, weapons ready. "SEE?" she screams, her unkempt hair taking on a life of it's own and writhing above her head like a nest of angry vipers. The force of her sudden outburst is tangible - Sammy and Jerkhief are both knocked against a wall, and feel the force of an extremely strong will roughly pushing on their minds. "THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" Bubble's voice has changed to an almost enraged roar, but it still keeps her original soft tone. "YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO BE THE FIRST. THERE'S NO ALTERNATIVE NOW. YOU COULD HAVE JUST SAT STILL AND LEARNED, BUT YOU HAD TO BE DIFFICULT. YOU HAD TO TRY AND GET AWAY. IT. NEVER. WORKS. NOW SHUT UP AND LISTEN, YOU SUMBAH." Sammy and Jerkhief both find themselves mouthing Bubble's words along with her, as their limbs are no longer under their control...

As Bubbles angrily advances on your two companions, you notice your bubbles slowly sink into the water and pop. Clearly, her attention is elsewhere.

What do you do?

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

'Dammit, she wasn't as stupid as I thought' Stan thought to himself as Bubbles began her slow advance towards his comrades.

Suddenly, however, it seemed his bubble had popped. He was free. Stan looked to see his other two comrades had also been freed. Bubbles was likely no longer paying them any mind.

Seeing no alternative, Stan gestured towards Pigeon and Tavern respectively and then towards the back of Bubbles' head indicating he intended for them to advance upon her while she was distracted. If they could break her concentration and free Jerkief and Sammy, they might stand a chance.

Tavern Greil

Tavern signals Pigeon to follow as best as he can and begins to parkay the water. Moving with the grandest amount of stealth he can he rushes forward to strike Bubbles's skull.

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Stan remains perfectly still, knowing himself to be not nearly as stealthy or agile as Tavern and not wanting to alert her to his intended sneak attack. He watches on ready to rush in and help the second he strikes.

Pigeon Pidjin

Pigeon had been silent throughout the whole thing... but although the words had sounded enticing, Bubbles had seen his nails grasp against his arm, the redhead glaring at the Rosechu throughout the entire thing. He was hurting himself to stay strong, to still remember the loss of J-Twig, of the Jerkops, of everything they'd had until now. All because of the Mayor's creatures, because of his orders, because of her.

Hatred was his fuel. He had only hatred for her this time, and he was never going to listen to her.

When the bubbles broke, Pigeon realized they could move, but the Jerkhief and the fat guy were going to be turned into those things. He wasn't going to let that happen to them, no matter what.

So he headed towards one of the nearby holes, one that had no water so far, but was also capable of fitting him in. But he wasn't planning on an escape. No... he still remembered how he had saved himself, that time. Could he do it again? He didn't know. He didn't have the time for it. But he knew what he was going to do.

Pressing his fingers on the opening, he focused. He needed it to suck the water in. The hole needed to be able to suck *all* the water around them, the little beasts, and the Rosechu. He wasn't sure how much he could handle, however; this was like, the second time where he tried this out.

But he had no choice. Grimly, he knew this was the best he could do.

Conclusion

Tavern quickly jumps to his feet, standing atop the water using his Parkay training. Running towards Bubbles as quick as he could, the water rising up behind him in his wake to form a wave, he sent his fist flying out towards the Rosechu's head. Bubbles was unprepared for the sudden burst of strength from her captive, and reeled backwards in shock. "No, stop, please, this is...this is bad!" she pleaded.

Meanwhile, Pigeon was scrabbling on one of the walls, and found what he needed - a hole. He concentrated as hard as he could, feeling that spark in his fingertips once more, like a fire waiting to burn...

Bubbles whipped heir serpentine hair at the air around her, in an attempt to hit Tavern, but he was far too fast. Blow after distracting blow rained down upon Bubbles from every angle, until eventually her arm shot out and gripped a surprised Tavern around the neck. "ENOUGH" she roared. "YOU. ARE FINISHED."

Pigeon felt the spark in his fingers move to the hole in the wall, and begin to spread. Some of the water from the sewers began to rise towards the hole in the wall, slowly. Suddenly, with a muffled sound like a bomb detonating underwater, the hole began to suck in everything in the room, continuing to make a sound like a muffled jet engine's roar. As the water neared the hole, it began to slow down significantly, boil, and become steam. Our heroes clung to whatever they could cling to to prevent them being sucked into the hole themselves, but Bubbles and Sammy were not as fortunate. Flailing their arms ineffectively in an attempt to find purchase on air, their were sucked towards the hole in the wall, Bubbles' persuasive voice drowned out by the roar of the hole. As they reached the threshold around the hole occupied entirely by steam moving ever-more-slowly towards the hole, they began to smoke...

What eventually happened to Bubbles and Sammy was, mercifully, concealed by the steam from the boiling sewer water. As soon as they were gone, Pigeon's power faded, and the wall went back to just being a wall.

Looking around, our heroes took stock of the situation. There was no more water left in the sewers, and Sammy was gone, lost to Pigeon's power, but they had survived a direct encounter with a Rosechu and lived. That had to be worth something.

You may now leave the sewers! Where do you intend to go?

Result: Tavern wins, Autism dominates! Pigeon wins, Autism dominates! (+2 coins into Pot of Fail)

Tavern Greil

Tavern slumped against one of the sewer walls, rubbing his neck. "Holy....holy shit."

He looked over at Pigeon. "You just...dude, I fucking love you, man. You just saved my fucking life..." The artist closed his eyes, trying to get over how close he had just been to dying.

Hank Venderson

Jerkheif collpases to the floor, panting. "Hot damn, I though we were all fucked." He looks at the others. "So, Sammy's, well..." Jerkheif glances down, his face mournful. He sighs and looks around. "So, what now. We have a man down and need to find a way out. We could try to follow the sewer lines out of the city. But, we's need to get some sense of direction first." He gets up and explores the room, first pausing to scratch 'RIP Sammy' into the wall of the sewer. "Well Sammy, here's to hoping you're in a better place now. I'll miss you brotha."

Pigeon Pidjin

Pigeon's arm felt like fire as he let go, the redhead doing his best to cover it in an attempt to chill out.

"This... really sucked..." he groaned, falling on his butt. Damn it, he was trying to save them, why did he go and get the fat guy killed?

...of course, now he was too tired to try this shit again. He wanted a rest. A good rest.

...couldn't they have entered the BILLY MAYS tower through the sewers? He remembered them talking about that, if barely...

"Guys..." he groaned out, eyes closed, "we need to rest. We haven't slept at all since this mess started. How are we... where are we going to do that?"

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Stan began looking around the room as well, perhaps there was a sewer cover above them or some other form of telling where in the sewers they were in relation to the rest of Cwcville.

Chapter 13: The BILLY MAYS Tower Redux

The exhausted, stressed and barely conscious group pushes on through the sewers of CWCville, every minor sound and disturbance causing at least one of them to jump with shock. After the time they'd had lately, this wasn't so much of a surprise...

The sewers only ran in one direction, in a giant circular route around CWCville. Left, left, left...the group followed the sewer tunnels looking for an exit, turning in ever tighter left turns as they went. Finally, they came across a ladder that led them out of the sewers, and through a grate in the middle of an old, forgotten tower.

The BILLY MAYS tower was one of those places in CWCville nobody really talks about much. The construction project was abandoned halfway through, and the tower itself had long since crumbled into ruin. Still, you didn't expect it to look quite like this - Not even the ravages of time could explain what you were currently seeing. The walls, floors, and even stairways all seem to curve in on themselves, forming themselves into strange mobius strip-like formations, ever-shifting, ever-changing. Perhaps it's just the stress of the day getting to you, but you could swear buildings aren't meant to do that. The sun is high in the CWCville sky, but none of you have slept since the day before - Perhaps that's a factor?

Nevertheless, there's no immediate danger. No prowling jerkops, no evil recolours. This might be a good place to rest - right?

You feel a slight tremor beneath your feet.

What do you do?

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Stan, too exhausted to notice much less even give a shit about the tremor, speaks first, "lets just find some place in the tower out of sight and crash for the night, we can figure out what we're going after we get some sleep."

Hank Venderson

"Awww hell naw" Jerkheif whispered. He quickly glanced around the groups surroundings for anything usable as a weapon, trying to ignore his fatigue and injuries.

"Yo, Stan's right. We need to rest. Stick together, find a defendable area out of sight, and sleep in shifts. One person stays awake and keeps watch while the others sleep."

Tavern Greil

Tavern started checking around for anything better than a giant straw to use as a weapon with a sigh. "Damn it," he groaned. "There's no chance of that just being a regular earthquake, is there...I swear to GodJesus if another fucking electric hedgehog fucking pokemon's about to jump out of the fucking ground I won't even fight back..."

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Stan lets out a stress sigh. "Seeing as I was particularly useless in that fight we just had, I'll volunteer to take first watch. It's the least I can do." Stan let out another stress sigh "...if I could only get my hands on some cucumbers and brine," he grumbled to himself.

Pigeon Pidjin

Pigeon dragged himself along with the others, as the group made their way to the BILLY MAYS tower. What luck that this path took them right where they wanted to go... and without any of the infected Jerkops, to boot.

But he was tired. He felt awfully exhausted, after that mess with the Rosechu, and his arm ached. He wasn't one for doing so much physical effort, either... and at this point, he didn't care enough. He couldn't move for much longer. He was tired, man...

"Let's... let's just find somewhere safe. And rest. The... best we can." He was half-asleep at these words, doing his best to follow. But the second they found what seemed like safe ground, he would fall on the ground and sleep, even if just a nap. Some rest would be good...

Intermission Two

The exhausted heroes dragged themselves into a small room on the second level of the BILLY MAYS tower, the only room that seemed to have escaped the majority of the strange, unknown force that was twisting the building's architecture. The day's trials and tribulations had taken a significant toll on them, and deciding who would watch for recolors at which times, they gratefully lay down, and were lulled into a deep sleep by the noise of the loudhalers around CWCville blaring out Mayor Chandler's proclamations, a common sound in the CWCville streets.

The dreams you experience tonight are somewhat more disturbing than your normal dreams. Fractured images swim before your mind. Punchy, dead and bleeding, his face barely recognizable by your own hands. The maddening, grinning face of Patti, her lupine features curled into a vicious snarl of victory. Bubbles' agonized expression just before her gruesome fate - And, lest we forget, speculation on what exactly happened to her and Sammy due to Pigeon's strange and mad power.

Stan, during the time you are awake and keeping your friends safe, you hear a strange noise from downstairs in the tower. A scraping, grunting noise, and occasionally the sound of something falling heavily to the ground.

What do you do?

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Stealthily, Stan slowly makes his way down the stairs far enough to take a peak at what's making all this noise and see if it requires waking his fellows.

Intermission Three

Slowly, carefully, Stan makes his way down the stairs, wary of what might await him.

At the bottom of the steps, on the first floor, he finds a pile of rubble - It's clearly collapsed from the floor above, as it twists itself into a strange, alien spiral pattern. The rubble has knocked a hole through the floor, and from the hole, a human arm in a blue shirt sleeve scrabbles at the rubble above. As Stan descends the stairs, the arms bursts from the rubble, clearing the majority of it away from the body of the man underneath.

Wild-eyed, and with a long beard that shows the face it is attached to has not seen a razor in some time, the man stares straight at Stan in fear. It's obvious he's both malnourished and weak from his pale, pasty complexion, and he seems to be having trouble pulling his left arm from the rubble.

"Please...please tell me you're normal!" he croaks, in a way that sounds like he's not quite used to the sound of his own voice any more.

What do you do?

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

"Dear God..." Stan mutters to himself and extends his hand to help this man out from the rubble.

Intermission Four

Gratefully, the man grasps Stan's outstretched hand, and you pull. Whatever's holding him, he's certainly stuck fast. The man scrabbles in the rubble with his one free hand, and manages to free himself from the rubble enough for Stan to pull him out.

Stan was not prepared for what he saw. The entire left hand side of the man's body was...twisted, in the same way as the building. It was barely recognizable as a body any more. The flesh had been twisted into strange, spiral patterns - twisting in on itself, and constantly swirling, almost like a whirlpool made of skin. It was clear that it caused the man no small degree of pain, judging by the way he winces whenever he had to move his left side.

The man introduces himself as BILLY MAYS - A name you of course recognize. Clearly, that story about him "dying from a heart attack" wasn't quite true...

"I was her first." explains BILLY. "No, I...I can't tell you her name. I mean, I could, but...I just can't say it. I'm sorry. Thank you for helping me out of there. I guess I was just lucky the roof caved in before I..." he trails off. "I think she was...saving me. For a special occasion, maybe, I don't know. Others came later, and they're...gone." Something about that pause is a little unsettling.

"I need to go. I don't know where, I just need to get out of here, before she..." He pauses, noticeably flinching as a slight tremor is felt underfoot. All the colour drains from his face, and he becomes noticeably agitated. "No. No, she can't be...she can't be back now. She'll notice I'm gone. She'll notice I'm gone!!"

The tremor becomes stronger.

What do you do?

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Not knowing what else to do, Stan grabs BILLY MAYS by his good side and runs back up the stairs towards the others with him. Stan isn't exactly sure what he'll say to the others but likely some hurried explanation about how Spiraled BILL MAYS is apparently now a thing.

Chapter 14: Simonla Rosechu

As Stan dashes up the stairs to the room the others are asleep in, the very ground underneath him and BILLY begins twisting into a spiral shape, like the rest of the building's interior, threatening to pull both of them down. As he runs, a drill bursts up through the ground behind him, flinging twisted masonry in every direction and tearing a gaping hole in the tower's staircase. Barely keeping ahead of the threat, Stan dashes into the room with the others, with BILLY in tow. The tremors escalate to the point where the building itself is shaking.

Jerkhief, Pigeon, and Tavern jolt awake due to the extreme tremors. They hear Stan hurriedly explaining something about BILLY MAYS and spirals, but it's hard to hear over the rumble of the Earth.

What do you do?

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

"BILLY MAYS IS HERE! HE'S HALF SPIRAL! AND WE NEED TO GET THE FUCK OUT!" Stan hurriedly screams to his half-awake companions as the ground continues to rumble.

Pidgin Pigeon

Pigeon's brief sleep was all he needed to recover some level of calm. "W-what?!" he let out, the rumble and noise being too much for him to understand at first. Of course, given how he could see the Pickleman running at full speed while dragging a monstrosity along...

Tavern could handle himself with his speed. So Pigeon just went towards the Jerkhief as he got up, helping the bigger man up as well before they ran. Not that they knew where to - sound was useless in this place and they were stuck in the middle of the tower. Would it be brought down, maybe?

Hank Venderson

Jerkheif looked around the room. "Ok, that ain't good. That really ain't fucking good!" He ran out the door with Tavern and Pigeon, desperately looking for an escape. Up ahead, he saw a crumbling red sign for the emergency exit. He pointed it out to his comrades, and they hurried towards it.

Tavern Greil

"The fuck?" Tavern grunts, bolting upright and running to help with BILLY MAYS.

Intermission Five

Dragging the shaking Mr MAYS behind them, the group rushes to the emergency exit Jerkhief spotted. As they run, the room they were sleeping in begins twisting in on itself with a mettallic shriek, crushing everything remaining inside. With nowhere left to go, they hurl themselves out of the exit onto the metal staircase on the side of the tower, intended for escaping a fire.

Down seemed the best way to go. It was a short run to the ground, but the shaking of the Earth made it somewhat more perilous on the exposed stairway.

Upon reaching the ground, the group ran towards the city, desperate to get away from whatever was happening to the tower. Looking back, they saw the shell of the once-proud monument begin to twist in upon itself, the rigid walls crumbling under the torsion. Soon, the building was nothing more than a swirling maelstrom of rubble adorning CWCville's skyline.

Any awe at the spectacle was cut short by another mighty rumble from the ground, as fountains of dust began spraying into the air, rapidly closing in on our heroes. As one, the group decided they'd better get going, and dashed into the city streets.

Left, left, left...the street went only in one direction. Left. Just like the sewer. Running in ever-smaller circles as the tremors increased, what was happening began to sink in. Sure enough, they soon ran up against a dead end - a solid wall, the centre of the spiral. Looking behind them, they saw what they were running from rounding the corner they'd just run around, seemingly in no great hurry.

Simonla stalked slowly towards the group, her arms outstretched so her drills carved great chunks out of the buildings to her sides, sending masonry flying in all directions. Her grey shell flapped loosely from the sinews holding it to her upper back, like a macabre cape, and her face betrayed no emotion, her features twisted into the same spiral pattern that her presence caused in everything else. She spoke a single sentence as she advanced on the trapped citizens.

"Running? From ME? JUST WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

What do you do?

Hank Venderson

"Whoa, wait now, we don't want any trouble. We've just a group of citizens." Jerkheif looked nervously at Simonla's whirling drills. Punchy had been drunk and Bubbles had been distracted, but Simonla's was fully awake and completely focused on them. It was a long shot, but if they could appeal to whatever reason was left in the chu, they could be able to escape. Still, Jerkheif started planning for a fight. Simonla's drill would gut them near instantaneously, so they should focus on trying to distract and run instead of a full on assault. Jerkheif glanced at the trashcans in the alley, and remembered that he still had his plastic pistol.

Intermission Six

Planting her drills in the walls, Simonla leans uncomfortably close to Jerkhief, bringing her face close to his.

"I'm not dense. I know who you are. I know why Father wants you gone, and I know what you did to the others.

But I have other priorities. I'm not going to disobey Father - but give me THAT MAN and ill let you live another day. 24 hours in which I will be far too...busy to chase you down."

BILLY cowers in fear against the wall. As he does so, you hear a scream from a building near you. A man bursts out of a doorway, yelling and flailing his arms, his flesh twisting into the grotesque spiral shapes that have overtaken half of BILLY. Within seconds, he stops moving altogether. Clearly, Simonla's presence is having the same effect on the innocent citizens of CWCville that it is on the city's layout.

What do you do?

Hank Venderson

I say we give her Billy. We get another day to escape and she stops affecting innocent civilians. Plus, Billy's already fucked. If he does escape from CWCville, the magic keeping him alive stop working and he dies from his injuries.

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick

Stan is immediately horrified by Jerkhief's suggestion and stands between him and BILLY MAYS, arms outstrechted. "No! I rescued him from the tower! I cannot allow you to just hand him over like that!"

Tavern Greil

Tavern backed up to stand by the pickleman. He was almost certain his choice was going to shorten his life span considerably, but he couldn't bring himself to just give up such a legend. "BILLY was my inspiration, man," he said haltingly. "I...I can't do that."

Hank Venderson

• autistic sigh*

"Alright, just keep you voice down." Jerkheif glanced at Simonla, who is slowly advancing. "Think of all the shit we wen't through. Think of Sammy! Don't tell me that Sammy died just so that we could get butchered in a back alley. Shit." Jerkheif glanced back at Simonla, who had come just a little bit closer. He leaned in more and spoke aloud. "So, that's the deal then? We'll do the trade?" He lowered his voice. "Alright, we make like we're going to trade to get her to let her guard down, then we throw the trashcans at her as a distraction and run like hell."

Intermission Seven

Stepping forwards gingerly, Jerkhief prepared to make the trade - BILLY for a day of freedom from Simonla. At the last second, he yelled "NOW!" to his companions.

Several things happened in quick succession. Jerkhief drew his Megatron pistol, and harshly squeezed the trigger, aiming straight for Simonla's twisted heart. Tavern grabbed BILLY, and planted his feet firmly on a vertical wall. Pigeon threw a trashcan lid, and Stan stood very still, closed his eyes, and clenched his teeth...

Simonla reacted quicker than Jerkhief could have expected. As he squeezed the trigger, Simonla drove her drill forwards faster than he could anticipate. The gun he was holding emitted a deafening explosion of light and sound, as a bullet spun out of it towards the insane recolor. Simonla's drill met it in mid air, stopping it dead, the bullet clattering to the floor with a faint ringing sound. The whirling drill was not similarly affected, as it continued straight towards Jerkhief's head... (Simona wins, Stress dominates. The Jerkhief hits 5 stress: DANGER ZONE!)

Tavern started moving upwards, dragging BILLY behind him. He had to get him out of here, away from Simonla and...whatever the hell it is she was going to do to him. Gravity began to harshly pull him downwards, but summoning his expert knowledge of Parkay, Tavern denied the fundamental force its prize - for now. Soon, he and BILLY were high above the others, BILLY being dragged behind Tavern up a vertical wall - But all this effort had left Tavern incredibly tired, and in need of a rest. (Tavern wins, Stress dominates. Tavern hits 3 Stress.)

The lid Pigeon threw sailed true, and struck Simonla square on what passed for her head. Immediately, the lid's shape began distorting, twisting into the same spiral patterns that currently plagued CWCville's streets and citizens - But it did not budge. The impact and sudden obscuring of her vision caused Simonla's drill to sail past Jerkhief's head by mere centimetres, embedding itself in a nearby wall. (Pigeon wins, Autism dominates. Pigeon hits 2 Stress.)

Stan had not moved, though it had been hard to keep his concentration on what he knew he must do over the cacophony of action around him. Grinding his teeth, he summoned every last ounce of his mysterious power in order to put an end to this threat...

A single bear of DIRTY, CRAPPED BRIEFS flopped wetly onto Simonla's head as she tried to free her drill from the wall it was stuck in. Then another. Then more, pouring out of the windows and doors of the building she was stuck in, piling onto the Sonichu's struggling form. Soon, she was buried in them, crushed under a pile of human refuse mixed with fabric. The twisted streets began to slowly return to normal, as a small lego figure of an orange hedgehog rolled out from under the crushing pile of putrescent filth. (Stan wins, Stress dominates - 1 coin used. Players now have 1 coin in their Pot of Win. Stan hits 3 Stress.)

In the aftermath of the conflict, everyone could only stand and stare. Trying to dissect what exactly had happened was likely to be a fruitless task, but the end result was clear. Simonla was gone. They were, somehow, alive.

However, night was drawing in. The second day had come to a close, and tomorrow was what they had all been dreading. The Sonichu Day. The day when the doors to CWCville are open for but a moment, and the yellow terror stalks the streets.

What do you do?

Pidgin Pigeon

Pigeon ran at the Jerkhief as soon as he realized the trashcan had slammed onto Simonla, grabbing him a little too late - but then again, he at least managed to pull him away, before anything worse could happen and the Rosechu was crushed by the pile of DIRTY, CRAPPED BRIEFS.

Both of them fell back to the ground, and he needed a few seconds to breathe, before he tried to actually say anything. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, before looking at the Pickleman.

"Call the others. We're... almost safe."

Tavern Greil

Tavern looked down from the top of the wall. "Hey...holy shit, you guys aren't dead down there?"

Hank Venderson

Jerkheif stares in silence for what seems like eternity before speaking. ".......Hot Diggiety SHIT, I though I was a goner. That thang came this close to braining me. Is everyone all right? Is Billy safe?" He looks back at the pile of dirty crapped briefs. "Well damn, Punchy, Bubbles, and now Simonla. Three down." He gets to his feet and sighs. "A shitton more to go. We gotta find a way out of the city. How far are we from the boundaries?"

Pidgin Pigeon

"It's hard to tell. We keep running around, and this damn stupid city..." Pigeon rests against the nearest wall, closing his eyes for a bit. "We're... probably not far from my place, though. I recognize that park. It's a walk and a half from there."

He let out a breat. His parents. They were still living there. Who knew what the hell they had been doing since he left to visit J-Twig?

"We... we clearly can't find a place to rest for long. But we need to rest a little. And..." He opened his eyes then, turning his face to the side. "Find out what he knows."

Pigeon was looking at BILLY MAYS now. How was he, after the spiral curse had been purged from CWCville otherwise?

Stan "The Pickleman" Bronswick=

Exerted from such a dramatic display of his mysterious DIRTY, CRAPPED POWER, Stan the Pickleman collapsed against a nearby wall to collect his thoughts. Simonla had been crushed and it appeared as though Tavern had gotten BILLY MAYS to safety.

Stan looked to Pigeon and, after a steady nod, looked upwards to wave Tavern and BILLY MAYS back down to ground level, it appeared they were safe for the time being.

Mustering up a bit of strength, Stan began to speak. "It's been some time," he began "with any luck they're done ransacking my Pickleshop by now, I lived alone there so the house itself is secluded. I had a number of hidden storage spots they shouldn't have found, there could very well be some supplies left behind, we could get some food in us and some rest to prepare for tomorrow. For tomorrow, my dear friends, is when I believe we'll be making our break for it."

With a deep STRESS sigh, Stan rose to his feet, knees still wobbly but his strength steadily returning.

Intersmission 06

Wearily, you make your way out of the rapidly untangling alleyway, wanting more than anything to return to a place you know you're safe. Alas, it's looking increasingly likely that no such place exists in this city any more.

You make your way through the ruined streets littered with brightly coloured fallen masonry, the aftermath of Simonla's rampage, to Stan's desolate pickle shop. It seems so empty and hollow now, the once-jolly shelves devoid of their delicious pickled produce having been picked clean by the CWCville power rangers. With thoughts of the big day tomorrow occupying your minds, you drift into a restless sleep...

Your dreams are more disturbed tonight than they were yesterday, and that's saying something. You dream of last year's Sonichu Day - The jolly parade you attended with your families and loved ones, the delicious non-pickled snacks on offer, the bright colours of CWCville's buildings adding to the delight of the day where you celebrated all of Mayor Chandler's edicts and directives.

Everything seems...different, though. It's not quite how you remember it. The smiles on peoples faces are slightly too wide, and never waver, almost as if they're painted on. Everyone walks a little too stiffly, their legs never bending at the knees. Strangest of all is Mayor Chandler's speech. You remember the speech word for word, and it certainly plays out the same in your dreams. What is strange is you remember the Chaotic Combo being present during the speech, as they are every year. The crowd reacts as if they're there, and Mayor Chandler addresses some of them directly during his rambling speech, but you see nothing else on stage. No Punchy, no Angelica, no Rosechu, and most telling of all...no Sonichu. As you watch, the heads of all the parade-goers swivel around, almost by 180 degrees, to meet your gaze with their plastic, painted smiles...

You all awake with a start, sweat running down your bodies. Stepping outside of the derelict pickle shop, you see the parade is in full force. As they do every year, people line the streets to chant their adoration for Sonichu and his wondrous Father, the celebrated Mayor Chandler. Before you can think of a course of action, the crowd sweeps you up in it's momentum, and you are all carried along by it to the centre of CWCville. The place where Mayor Chandler makes his yearly speech to the crowd. The place where every year, the door to CWCville opens for new citizens anew.

Mayor Chandler stands atop his podium, waving regally at the onlookers. Strangely, the Chaotic Combo isn't present - Just like in your nightmares. Occasionally, the Mayor will address a member of the Combo, and act like they responded. But none are present. That's when you notice it. Mayor Chandler is waving pieces of paper in his hand. It is these he appears to be addressing, as if they were alive...

The crowd doesn't react any differently to this parade than they have to any other. They laugh at something Wild apparently said, though you heard nothing. They gasp at a shocking tale of daring Punchy apparently told, but you don't see him. And besides, didn't you kill him?

Everything proceeds normally until the time to open the gate to CWCville rolls around. You remember from last year that it is Sonichu who has this rare honor, and it is him for whom this day is named. Mayor Chandler seems to freeze, and inclines his head to one side. In a voice less regal and commanding than you seem to remember, he asks the air around him "Huh? Wat's dat, Sonichu? Da trolls are here!?". Casting his eyes across the crowd with a look of visible panic, he stabs an accusing finger in your direction. "THERE! There are those DAMN, DIRTY TROLLS! I'll deal with you once and for all!"

The Mayor draws himself up to his full height, and dramatically whips his glasses off of his face. "GO! SONICHU!" he yells. "GO OUT AND ZAP TO THE...TO THE..EXTREAAAAAAGH!"

The Mayor clutches his head in pain, and collapses to the floor, rocking backwards and forwards in agony. Slowly, a yellow pustule begins to form on his temple, growing ever larger by the second. It extends from his head like a grotesque tendril, snaking it's way towards the sky. Eventually, it's top begins expanding outwards, taking a terrible form. The form of a yellow hedgehog pokemon, with sharp pointed teeth, maddening yellow eyes, and only a snakelike tendril for a lower body. This tendril wraps itself around the Mayor's throat, hoisting him into the air with a yelp. As the Mayor claws at the creature who has him trapped, it sneers down at him with a mocking smile, and says in a high-pitched, childlike voice "I will. Thank you, Father."

It almost spits that last word, tightening it's grip on the Mayor's neck as it does. As you stare into the face of the abomination born of the Mayor's mind, you see a light from behind the crazed monstrosity. The light that signifies the opening of CWCville's gates. A way out.

Standing between you and it is Sonichu, his grotesque form still holding the poor Mayor captive. What do you do?

Hank Venderson

Jerkheif's eye twitches. "You know what? I've had it. I've fucking had it. For the past three days I've been chased, punched, gassed, mauled, nearly brainwashed, nearly gored, and injured multiple times. And for this? Fucking this? The way out of the city, blocked by the original fucking recolor? I DID NOT DO ALL THAT MOTHERFUCKING SHIT JUST TO GET KILLED BY A MOTHERFUCKING SHITTY RECOLOR! YEEEEEAAAAHAHAHAHA!" Jerkheif seems to double in size as his eyes glow in fury. In his hand appear two Uzis of Infinite Ammunition, spawned by the Jerkheif's pure rage. "LET'S DO THIS!!! LET'S GET OUT OF HERE! I'VE HAD IT WITH ALL THESE MOTHERFUCKING RECOLOR'S IN MY MOTHERFUCKING WAY! LET'S ESCAPE THIS MOTHERFUCKER! YEEEEEEEHAAAAA!"

The End

Jerkhief's unrelenting rage manifests itself as red-hot lead flowing endlessly from his weapons, drawing the ire of the monstrous Sonichu standing in between himself, his companions, and freedom from the madness of CWCville. Sonichu advances ever so slowly towards the crazed ex-Jerkop, his forward motion stymied by the countless bullets slamming into his body, having seemingly no effect other than to slow him down. All the while, the Mayor's limp form dangles forlornly below Sonichu's grotesque torso.

As Sonichu nears the group, Jerkhief yells for his companions to make for the gate! "Run! Save yourselves!" he yells, hurling himself bodily towards the monstrous recolor. As what remains of our band of heroes makes for the gate, Sonichu and the Jerkhief engage in hand-to-hand combat, Jerkhief snacking on his delicious wooden badge to maintain his strength mid-fight.

But Sonichu's strength is matchless, and even the most dangerous of Count Graduon's machinations were no threat to the yellow monstrosity. It was clear to anyone watching that Jerkhief could not hold out forever - The only question was, could he buy himself enough time for his companions to escape the city? Just as the group had almost reached the gate, Sonichu's constantly-deforming arms shot out faster than Jerkhief could see, grabbing him around the throat, and squeezing. Squeezing hard.

Jerkhief felt all the rage and fight drain out of him. The penultimate thing Jerkhief saw was Sonichu's manic, laughing face, victorious over his foe once again, as he always is. It was some small consolation, then, that the final thing he saw was Sonichu's victorious smirk turned to a horrified grimace, as he looked towards the gate and witnessed three precious citizens hurriedly exiting the city. There was only one thing left to do. Jerkhief shat himself, and did nothing. Darkness descended. (Jerkhief ties Sonichu - Coin of Fail used to make Stress dominate. Jerkhief hits 6 Stress, and is eliminated.)

Pigeon, Stan and Tavern found it difficult to leave Jerkhief behind, but it was clear that they stood no chance against Sonichu himself. Passing through the gate as quickly as they could, all three felt as if a great weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Coming to in a very different place to where they were mere moment ago, all three wiped ash from their faces and clothes - They had stepped through the gate, and found themselves face down in a pile of ash, burned paper, and dust. They had no idea what had happened to this burned-out shell of what seemed to once be a house, but one thing was for certain - They certainly were not in CWCville. This, at least, was progress.

As the three collected themselves and stepped out into the light of reality for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, a charred piece of paper with Sonichu's happy, smiling face drawn in Crayola crayon fluttered to the ground behind them. These three had escaped, but the nightmare itself was still very much alive...

Game concluded! Survivors: Stan the Pickle Man, Tavern Greil, Pigeon Pijon.