Surprise!
“Guys, is it me or have we been sitting in this room for, like… two months?”
“No…?”
“It’s… It’s definitely been a while. Right?”
“Guys, it’s literally been like, two weeks max.”
The Prophet slowly turned their head to look at The Fool who was nonchalantly leaned back in their chair, on the verge of tipping. “Are you trying to fucking gaslight right now??”
“No…?”
The Charlatan and The Prophet exchanged a look. “He’s totally fucking gaslighting.”
“I am not!”
“You’re shit at it. Get better.”
“I’m literally not fucking gaslighting! You’re just stupid!”
"Yeah, Proph. Gaslighting isn’t real you’re just fucking crazy,” The Charlatan snarked.
“Kill yourselves.”
“I would, but I’m busy.”
“That’s not very nice! This is why the cast doesn’t like you!”
“THEY LOVE ME??”
The Fool and The Charlatan just looked at their companion.
“KENNY LOVES ME!”
“You keep telling yourself that,”The Fool said with a laugh.
“Okay what if we stop bullying me and do our fucking jobs??”
“But I hate our jobs?”
“Shut up, we have to work!”
—
Wendy looked around at the uneven, crumbling stone walls, letting out a slow exhale. Aged wooden support beams seem to be holding the ceiling up. Her eyes landed on the back wall, her face immediately falling.
—
“What. The. Fuck,” Stan murmured as he continued to stare at the weapons wall. It was lined with different pickaxes, sledgehammers, shovels, crow bars, and a hand drill.
—
Kyle had already abandoned the weapons wall to look at the few alternatives around the identical room. There was a bag of rocks with a slingshot resting on top. He let out a laugh, knowing exactly who this was for.
—
Dovakien carefully eyes the assortment of lanterns. They grab one with a small smile.
—
Christophe grabbed a pickaxe without much thought.
—
Trent stared at the wall, weighing out his options. He put a hand out, hesitating.
“GOOOOOOODFUCKINGEVENING LADIES AND GENTS!”
Trent jumped, taking a wide step back on instinct. “Fuck,” he muttered.
—
Ike grabbed a pickaxe from the wall with a resigned sigh.
“Can you guys take a guess on what this week’s map is gonna be?? I’ll give you a hint!”
—
Clyde let out a huff. “Fucking get on with it!”
—
“Clyde,actually shut up.”
Kenny rolled his eyes upon hearing the other terrible two laughing. He grabbed a pickaxe from the wall.
—
Marjorine grabbed the slingshot and the bag of rocks, carefully lining one up. She aimed towards the wall, closing her left eye. She let it fly, the rock smacking into the wall and shattering.
“Anywayyyyyys! This week, you lot will be down to sixteen after today! How do we feel about this??”
The blonde smirked slightly. “Fuckin’ great.”
—
“That’s the fuckin’ spirit!”
Kevin was silently deliberating between a pickaxe and a sledgehammer.
—
“Okay!!! Enough of all the distractions we’re on schedule!”
“What they said.”
Bebe let out a quiet sigh as she grabbed the hand drill from the wall.
—
“Okay, so with your rules. Everyone stays in the arena until one is eliminated.”
Tweek grabbed the pickaxe with the largest reach, carefully spinning it around in his hand.
—
“Only one of you gets eliminated. As always.”
Rebecca grabbed a pickaxe, airing on the side of caution despite her increasing boldness.
—
“I wanna see teams this week, guys! Do something interesting! We’ve been on hiatus for—”
“A fucking week, dramatic.”
“Can you stop?!”
“Whatever! We’ve been on hiatus!”
Ike looked about as confused as the rest of his co stars did.
—
“Oh. There’s also floors on this one, guys. You can’t just go up and down stairs this week though, so good luck”
“What??” Tammy muttered.
—
“Oh! Oh! Right! Sorry, guys, it’s been a while.”
“NO IT HASN’T!!”
“Shut up.You guys all have the same weapons this week! No guns to pickaxe fights! Go crazy! Y’all have sixty seconds!”
Craig scrambled to grab the pickaxe on the wall closest to him.
—
Damien didn’t pick his head up from his hands.
“You’re really not taking anything again?”
“Nope.”
“Good luck, then.”
—
The ground started to rumble, sending pebbles and dust to rain down on the contestants as they were raised into their starting points.
—
“Hey, um. I know I probably shouldn’t ask… But how structurally unstable are these mines?”
The Prophet snorted. “Yeah, you probably shouldn’t ask.”
—
Wendy didn’t hesitate to start walking the second she was in the arena. The cavernous mines were dimly illuminated by gas lanterns. She made a left at the fork in the path. It seems like she had a change of heart after losing one of the people closest to her. Now, she was more than ready to participate.
—
Stan kept his crowbar to his side as he hesitantly walked forward, carefully looking around as he moved in hopes of not being snuck up on.
But Kyle spotted him first. He ran forward, his grip on the hand drill he had just tight enough so he wouldn’t lose it.
“Hu–” Stan stopped when he realized who was running at him. He caught the shorter, pulling him into a tight hug. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Kyle mumbled, hugging him tightly.
Stan’s lips quirked up slightly. “You miss me?”
“I’m gonna throw you out a window.”
Stan tried to pull away.
“One more minute and we’ll go.”
“Okay.”
—
Out of the five short dead ends, only two had people inside. Two people who walked out at the exact same time. Christophe and Trent stared at each other for a moment. Trent stiffened up slightly as his eyes trailed down to look at the pickaxe in Christophe’s hand. His grip tightened on the crowbar in his hand.
His eyes snapped back up. Christophe shook his head slightly. Trent returned the gesture. Without a word, the two split off, Trent heading towards his left and Christophe heading straight forward.
—
Wendy tightened her grip on the small pickaxe in her hand as she quickened her pace towards the clueless blonde.
Marjorine closed her left eye, shooting out a piece of jagged rock at the lamp closest to her. The quiet shatter and sudden increase in darkness made Wendy pause. The blonde didn’t acknowledge her though. She just stepped over, picking up a large piece of glass. She looked up, directly at Wendy and smiled.
Wendy grit her teeth, taking a step forward.
She paused again when Marjorine’s slingshot came back up. She had the piece of glass ready to go, despite it cutting into her own palm. “I don’t wanna fight ya,” she said cooly.
Wendy shook her head slightly. One wrong move and this wasn’t even a fight, it would just be an execution.
“I’m bein’ serious!” Marjorine continued, slowly lowering her weapon. “Not afraid to, but I’m busy today and honestly I’m not lookin’ for problems with you.”
“You’re… busy?”
“I’m waiting for someone!”
“Who?”
“Tweek.”
Wendy gave her a pointed look. She had to be lying. “Why?”
“I need to talk to him about something.”
“Alright.” Wendy took a small step backwards. Followed by another one. She started to backtrack, not wanting to take her eyes off the blonde, but very clearly trying to get away.
Marjorine didn’t acknowledge it. “Can I walk with you?”
“That’s okay,” Wendy said awkwardly.
“Seriously! I don’t want any issues with ya, and…” She gave Wendy a sheepish look. “I wanted to talk to you, actually.”
Wendy squinted at her for a moment. “Stay in front of me.”
Marjorine brightened up, skipping over but keeping a respectful distance from Wendy as she walked around her, taking a slight lead.
—
Tweek was on a warpath similar to the way Wendy had started. He made a sharp left, jaw set and body tense as he stormed through. He was laser-focused on wherever he thought he was going, so much so that he almost missed the tiny ball of a man tucked into a corner he was about to pass.
But the blue stood out despite how dark and dim it was. Tweek didn’t say anything. He just quietly stepped over, crouching down. “Babe,” he whispered.
Craig had his knees pulled up to his chest, his head buried in his arms. He shook his head slightly.
“Let me take you somewhere safe, at least.”
“Okay,” he managed. He stood up with Tweek, unable to hide the fact that he had been crying.
Tweek silently walked Craig back towards the dead end he’d come from. He sat next to him, carefully putting an arm around him. “Talk to me,” he tried quietly.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Craig muttered against him.
“What happened last week?”
“I saw her die. In a fucking astronomy lab.”
“Honey–”
“Her blood was on me. I can’t–I can’t do this anymore!”
—
“Are we done with the Craig Tucker show?” The Prophet deadpanned.
The Charlatan barked out a laugh.
“Sorry, got invested. We’re going, shut up.”
—
Bebe looked to her left. She looked to her right. The blonde bit at the corner of her lip, weighing the two options. On her left, there was a small, glowing red bump in the rocky ground. On her right was a sharp corner, probably followed by many other sharp corners.
She ran her hands through tangled curls, letting out a huff. “Is that a fucking landmine??” she tried.
She didn’t receive an answer.
—
“Proph, did you seriously put explosives in the fucking structurally unsound MINES?!”
“Okay my hand slipped, first of all. Second of all, there’s like, two.”
“Two…”
“Dozen.”
“BRO!”
“If someone blows themselves up it’s not my fault! They all know better at this point!”
“I—I mean… They kinda do…”
The Fool let out a long, dramatic sigh. “No more fucking explosives after this, kay?”
“I’m putting in all the explosives I fuckin' want,” The Prophet grumbled.
—
Bebe took a careful step over the angry red orb in the ground. Followed by another few, very careful steps forward. There were no more immediate dangers around her that she could see, but she kept her eyes on the ground.
Then she heard it. The whistle of wind was near ear-splitting. It rushed her without any more warning. Bebe all but threw herself on the ground, which was smart thinking considering the random assault would have likely tossed her back a few feet had she not. The moment the onslaught finished, she carefully spun back around, making her way towards where she started.
—
The Fool carefully eyed the silver box with ten red buttons arranged in two neat rows that sat on the table in front of their monitors for what had to be the tenth time. “Um… Proph? Buddy… What do these buttons do?”
The Prophet’s chair wheeled towards him slightly, our beloved deer freak nudging him. “Touch one.”
The Fool stared at him for a moment, mask giving away nothing. “No...”
“Do it.”
“No!”
“Coward.”
“Oh my god, fine!”
—
Christophe was walking down a rocky corridor, carefully eyeing the support beams under the dim light. Without any warning, a loud, garbled ‘WoooOOOOOooooo!!’ echoed through the tunnel. Followed by more horrible fake ghost noises. Christophe actually stopped dead in his tracks, looking around to try to find the speaker that was literally crackling from the dramatically loud ghost sounds in vain. It dragged out for an entire minute before he plunged back into silence.
“What the fuck…”
—
The Charlatan snorted. “What was that?!”
“Spooky ghost sounds, obviously.”
The Fool dropped his head in his hands, shoulders shaking as he continued to laugh. “Proph, what the fuck!”he managed.
“Try another one.”
“I wanna try one!”
The Prophet, obviously very proud of himself, passed the small panel over to The Charlatan. The Charlatan did not hesitate to smack a random button.
—
Tammy was clearly not doing well. Though, no one expected her to be able to actually read what Christophe had been writing to Rebecca for weeks at this point. She kept her pickaxe to her side, shoulders slumped slightly as she continued to walk. She was clearly near absent, lost in thought as she passed a rope ladder.
And suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, or maybe slapped a random button, she was practically tackled onto the ground. “WHATTHEFUCK!”
—
“Well that’s… interesting,” The Fool noted, leaning forward to watch what was going on on monitor 17.
—
“How the fuck did you do that?!” Tammy shouted.
Trent clamped a hand over her mouth. “Stop fucking screaming,” he ordered. He recoiled, making a face at her. “You’re fuckin’ gross!” he hissed.
“How did you just appear?!”
“I don’t know! I was here somewhere one minute! Now I’m here!”
Tammy pushed him off of her, forcing herself back up. “Whatever. Happy you’re alive.”
Trent stood up, frowning at her when she started to walk. “The fuck’s your problem?” he asked curiously.
“Nothing! Are you coming or not?”
Trent started to walk. “Yeah, course.”
—
“Oh I cannot wait to talk to her later,” The Prophet said. “Gimme!”
The Charlatan slid the panel back to the middle of the group.
The Prophet let their hand float over top before choosing the fourth button.
A tub of popcorn appeared in the middle of the table.
“Oh, sweet!”
“Dude!”
—
Ike had walked down the third dead end in a row, gritting his teeth. “ARE ALL OF THE TUNNELS DOWN HERE DEAD ENDS?!”
“They might be.”
He let out a huff of annoyance before dropping his pickaxe next to him and taking a seat.
—
Rebecca reached out, grabbing onto Christophe’s arm with her free hand. Neither acknowledged it, nor did they say anything to each other. They just continued to move in silence, Christophe seemingly waiting for an opening that wouldn’t get either of them killed.
—
The Prophet’s hand came down, the quiet smack against the panel interrupting the silence and scaring the shit out of his coworkers. “Sorry. My hand slipped.”
—
Clyde was walking, vaguely clueless but ultimately fine one moment, and the next he was on the ground of the level below him, coughing, sputtering, and wheezing as the dust from the crumbling floor cleared. He was unaware of the producers laughing themselves to tears as he tried to pull himself together while also being aware of his surroundings.
He dragged his hands across his face, not yet standing up. “Are you kidding me?” he muttered weakly.
He did not receive an answer.
After a few moments and processing the relief that he didn’t die and/or break any bones during the fall, he got up, having no other choice but to keep going.
—
Dovakien crouches down, carefully eyeing the perfectly circular hole in the ground. There wasn’t anything they could really see down there that differentiated from the level they’re currently on. But it seemed that this whole arena was just different shades of brown and instability. Dovakien shrugs to themselves slightly, deciding to jump down.
—
Damien had taken his own corner of a dead end, though he had taken precautions at least. A small ring of fire surrounded him with no signs of going out or breaking. The man was more of a broken boy, his knees pulled up to his chest, head resting against them. He hadn’t moved much since he got in, and at this rate, he probably wasn’t going to.
“Can you stop moping?” They tried, at the very least just so they could say they did.
Damien ignored the producers.
—
“Fine. Be dramatic,” The Prophet complained.
“I feel like he may have a right to be dramatic here.”
“Okay, agreed, but I’m looking for an excuse to also be dramatic and press another button.”
The Fool swatted at The Prophet, fingertips catching the corner of his antler.
“Hey!!”
“Just press a button, dipshit!”
“Heh. Okay.” The Prophet dramatically slammed their hand down on the sixth button.
—
Stan and Kyle both froze as the entire mine started to shake. Dust rained down, killing the visibility. Kyle heard the cracking and scraping over the rumbling and immediately sprung into action. He grabbed Stan by the arm, yanking him towards him, the large chunk of ceiling just barely missing the taller of the two.
As the dust settled, they both stared at each other for a moment, wide eyed and panting. “Did the producers just try to kill you?” Kyle asked with genuine shock once he found the words.
—
Meanwhile, The Prophet was laughing himself to tears at this point, head dropped against the table in front of them. “Wow! Was not expecting that!”
The Fool and The Charlatan were laughing with him, this game being much more entertaining than their usual. “Give me the buttons!”
—
Clyde was walking, still quietly grumbling to himself as he was now covered in dust and dirt as he was forced to walk. A flash of silver appeared from nowhere, pelting downwards towards him. The blow to the top of his head made him crumble, teeth clacking together.
He lowered himself to the floor, taking slow deep breaths, the poor thing probably seeing stars at this point. He sat on the ground, dropping his face into his hands for a few minutes before looking back up, discovering what had just slammed into his head.
—
“I thought you said there were no guns this round?!”
“I thought it would be funny!”
—
Ike slowly stood with his pickaxe, the action completely silent, as though the smallest sound would kick off a fight he wasn’t sure he could win.
Kevin didn’t move, didn’t break eye contact. He let out a slow exhale.
Ike continued to stare, the youngest of the group practically a deer in headlights.
“You know this isn’t personal, right?”
—
Wendy continued to eye Marjorine carefully as the blonde walked in front of her. They hadn’t had any direct confrontations, but Damien said he didn’t trust her and frankly, Wendy still had no idea who actually killed Brimmy. No one did, save for the people who took part in his death.
It was something that set her on edge. She had quietly been coming up with a list of suspects for weeks at this point, the list getting smaller as the time passed. It was anyone’s guess as to what she would do if she actually found out.
“Y’know,” Marjorine yawned out, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m just really happy you’re okay.”
She wasn’t. But that was something her co stars didn’t necessarily need to know if they didn’t already. “Pardon?”
“Y’know. After all, those two were gonna leave you high and dry and now you’re stuck with Damien. That’s really fucked up… It’s horrible to see people take advantage of someone so pretty and smart who has so much love for the people ‘round them. If you ever need anything, I’m here for you.”
Wendy actually stopped walking, staring at the back of Marjorine’s head as she got further. It was like the blonde had sunk her claws deep into Wendy’s brain, intent on pulling out her wildest insecurities. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Marjorine stopped, smile falling as she turned around. “Shit, sorry,” she rushed out. “I didn’t–shit.” She frowned. “I’m sorry. I thought–I don’t know why I thought you would just, like, know that. Sorry, that was thoughtless.”
Wendy cut off her word vomit, barely concealing the mix of grief and rage she was clearly being hit with. “Thought I would know what.”
“That-” She looked away, trying to avoid eye contact. “Damien… Um…”
“Marj.”
“Damien said he would choose Brimmy. He wanted to be with him when we got out. That he-” She cut herself off.
“That he what,” Wendy ordered.
“That he loved him.”
“You’re lying.”
Marjorine looked at her, face displaying pure anxiety. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t–um. Shit. Please forget I told you that. I–I don’t think before I speak sometimes I’m sorry but I never really grew out of it and I’m so so sorry!”
Wendy let out a slow, shuddered exhale, face softening on the panicking girl in front of her. “It’s fine, Marjorine. Let’s just keep going, okay?”
Marjorine nodded with one final quiet apology before spinning around, smiling to herself like she just won the lottery.
—
"Damn, she is on something this week!"
"I'm intrigued."
—
Clyde continued to walk slowly through the abandoned level with his gun to his side, though the way he held it showed he actually had experience with guns. It was a surprise, but not as much of a surprise as the jetpack he stumbled across. “What?” he mumbled under his breath.
—
“My same question.”
“Guys. 26.”
—
There was nowhere to run, but Ike was never the type to lay down and die. The two were evenly matched in reach. Kevin had a sledgehammer. Ike had his pickaxe. Kevin was controlling the pace of the fight, slightly taller, much more experienced. His strikes towards the younger were slow and powerful, forcing Ike onto defense.
Ike was focused on dodging rather than trying to block or actually fight back. He knew all it would take was one hit to crush whatever it impacted with. He wouldn’t be able to pull himself together in time to not die.
The boy found an opening, throwing out a wild swing that missed completely, throwing him off balance slightly.
Kevin tried to swing his hammer down, but Ike caught the action and threw himself on the ground before forcing himself out of the way.
—
Clyde slowed his pace. He could hear quiet footsteps. He carefully made his way towards the rocky wall on his right, the brunette looking confident for probably the first time since he’d arrived.
—
Wendy and Marjorine were stuck walking through a series of sharp turns, the cavern around them jagged and uneven. They were forced to walk closer together, more in step. Marjorine had managed to get Wendy to start quietly talking about art. She actually seemed almost slightly at peace for once, the poor fool absolutely clueless.
—
Ike was being backed into a corner, trying to swing to force his way out. He stumbled, but kicked his foot up, sending a cloud of dirt upwards as he tried for a low swing. It was enough to send Kevin backwards. “Damn, little one,” he commented, slightly out of breath. “Where’d you learn that?”
Ike shot him a hint of a smirk. “I’m just warming up.”
—
“DAMN IKE, GET ‘IM!”
“I thought we wanted Kevin to stay around for a bit??”
“I mean, if it’s Kevin or Ike… I’m personally on team Ike.”
“Okay, fair but please look at 4 because I fear it’s going to be neither of them?????”
—
Dovakien looks at Clyde, slowly raising their hands in the air.
Clyde didn’t move, his pistol trained on the person in front of him. “I need to end this,” he said, though we’re certain that was more to himself than anyone else.
Dovakien doesn’t say anything.
—
Kenny walked through a series of jagged twists and turns, confused at how he had yet to stumble upon a single person yet.
—
“Tammy, seriously. Can you tell me what’s going on with you?”
“I don’t want to fucking talk about it!” she shot back. “This place fucking sucks and I need to just go back to my tiny prison and fucking think because I can’t do that here and I can’t do that around you or I need to just die!”
Trent looked at her, taken aback. “Okay.”
—
Ike was only gaining speed the longer this drew out. He was starting to actually trip Kevin up. He wasn’t just fighting for his life anymore, he was fighting for his pride. He was fighting to keep his family together. His axe grazed across Kevin’s arm. It wasn’t deep enough to do real damage, but it wasn’t a papercut either.
It threw Kevin, obviously. His swings had been picking up in pace and now they were starting to get sloppier. He overshot, hitting a support beam, a chunk of wood splintering outwards as his sledgehammer connected. The world around them shook slightly.
—
Tweek wrapped his arms around Craig as the cave shook again, bits of dust and debris raining down.
—
“Fucking hell, this place is gonna collapse,” Stan said nervously.
Kyle shook his head. “We’re gonna be fine,” he repeated gently, forcing Stan to keep moving.
—
Kevin looked at Ike, something crazed lighting up in his eyes. He held his sledgehammer out. Ike paused, letting himself catch his breath. Kevin’s free hand came out, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small, familiar switchblade. “Live and learn.”
“What?” Kevin tossed it in Ike’s direction, the boy taking a hand off his pickaxe to catch it.
Kevin smiled, sweet as it was unnerving, before he dropped his sledgehammer.
Finally, Ike understood. He tossed his pickaxe behind him, readying himself with his switchblade. He was no longer a cornered animal. He was going to die here, or he would live and learn.
—
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY DOING?!”
“MONITOR FOUR!”
—
“Give me a reason to let you live,” Clyde said slowly.
Dovakien watches him, genuinely curious. Will he do it? Can he do it? Dovakien thinks about everything he knows about the man across from him. Clyde was a lot of things. He was emotional. Sometimes deadpan, kinda like Craig. Sometimes angry, and with good reason. He knew how to play a role and that was probably Clyde’s best attribute.
At this point in his life, given everything, could Clyde Donovan really take a life?
—
Ike and Kevin were struggling on the ground, neither one yielding. It was messy, barely visible in the dusty dimness of the cave. Ike landed on top of him, dealing Kevin a swift punch to the jaw before his right arm moved.
In less than a moment, the blare that cut them all off rang out, demanding attention.
—
“No.”
—
Ike scrambled off of Kevin. He didn’t stab him. He knew he didn’t stab him. He started patting himself down in a panic, despite the fact that he obviously wasn’t dead, his mind immediately going to critical injury—a fair assessment given the state he was in.
Kevin was busy doing the same.
But despite the cuts, scrapes, and bruises, the two were fine.
—
“YOU’RE FUCKINGKIDDING ME!”
The Fool and The Charlatan continued to stare at monitor 38 in shock.
—
Clyde stared at Dovakien in mild shock.
Dovakien stares back, unbothered.
Clyde dropped his gun.
—
“HE CAN’T JUST DIE FROM A STAB WOUND! YOU’RE FUCKING KIDDING ME!”
“I think he kinda just did…”
“BRING HIM BACK!”
“Proph, we can’t just–”
“BRING HIM BACK! THAT’S SO NOT FAIR!”
“Dude, no!”
The Prophet’s hands tangled up in his antlers. “Oh my fucking GOD! I hate it here.” He started to pace, back and forth. “It was clearly an accident!”
“We already ruled accidental deaths valid!”
“Sorry bud, you’re gonna have to let this one go.”
“NO, IT’S ESPECIALLY NOT FAIR BECAUSE IT’S HIM OF ALL PEOPLE! HE’S LITERALLY FUCKING IM—
—
Marjorine and Wendy continued to stare at each other in wide eyed horror. “I–I didn’t mean to,” Wendy murmured.
She looked back at Kenny’s lifeless body.
“I didn’t—”
Marjorine dropped her slingshot, rushing forward to pull the taller girl into a hug. “It’s okay.”
“No it’s not! He’s Damien’s–! Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fu–”
“Wendy, it’s okay,” Marjorine said reassuringly. “I’ll take care of it for you. You weren’t here. You didn’t do anything, okay?”
—
The Prophet had started lighting up tea lights in a circle on the linoleum of the production room.
“Are you gonna help us close out?”
“NO!”He responded petulantly. “I’M BUSY SUMMONING SATAN!”
The Fool let out a sigh. He and The Charlatan exchanged a look, the two trying in vain to suppress their quiet laughter.
The Prophet threw a large, leatherbound copy of The Necronomicon at The Fool, cashing in a longstanding threat.
He dodged, really trying to hold in his laughter for his friends’ sake. He and The Charlatan exchanged another look before they look. “Alrighty then. Join us next week on FLEEEETINGHOURRSSS!!”