Friendship is Magic

Cricket

This was not good. Not good at all. There seemed to be a small problem with the run strategy in that there was a lady with a machine gun at the door. I also had a machine gun. And I was afraid to use it. She wasn't. If I weren't afraid to use it things might be looking better. Oh bother.

I would probably have to use this thing.

This wasn't the time to stall and think; nobody had that kind of time. I would have to do /something/. I wasn't sure of what all I could do if I tried. The gun was quite, quite heavy, and I quite wanted to simply put it down like she suggested. But as many times as I'd wished Mr. Face dead . . . would terrorists be any better?

I could mention that he'd just gassed the place, and if they didn't get out soon we'd all be dead. But it wouldn't do anything for them, because then they'd hurry up and shoot him faster, and if I continued to be in the way my guess is that they would shoot me as well.

My thoughts were racing a mile a second. In fact, that entire above internal monologue sped through my mind in only a couple.

I braced myself. "...Sorryaboutth'deskMr.Face." The gun burst into an explosion of spattering bullets, and it was a battle in itself to keep the thing aimed low enough to not actually possibly kill anyone. Bullets flew in the general direction of the desk and her legs. I couldn't really tell.

If that ever worked and the lass went down...time to go.

Mr.Face:

There was a flurry of gunfire, and then the semi-satisfactory sound of someone crashing to the ground. It sounded as though my desk had been maimed in the process, but...we could discuss that issue later. The only thing that wasn't wonderful about Cricket's sudden decision to practice violence, was that the girl who'd been screaming at me seconds ago was continuing to scream angrily from her position on the floor, and was continuing to attempt to volley bullets at us. ...We had ten minutes, well, technically less than ten minutes in which to get out of the building, and I certainly wasn't going to waste them here finishing her off. That was what the neuro-toxins were for.

I then realised that putting the desk against the door made for a really exceptionally bad exit strategy, meaning that I had to awkwardly climb ONTO my desk and out of the hole that the girl had so kindly made for us. It was a very tight fit, and hideously painful to my newly bound up arms, but I didn't want to be locked into a death trap of my own construction, because I didn't put a manual override into these. I was my own fail safe.

I unfolded myself into the hall and waited about thirty seconds for Cricket. If he didn't show up within that time limit...I would have to abandon him. Which, actually I didn't want to do. He was valuable. I needed someone who knew what they were doing in some way or another once we were forced to go outside. I didn't want to go outside. Hated the idea. But... I also didn't want to be dead. Outside trumped death any day.

I heard him clamber out behind me. "Alright follow me. If you get lost you're dead." I informed him, taking off down the hallway. It wasn't a remarkably pleasant journey, considering that I was still suffering a bit of vertigo from the fall, and I was already anticipating the inevitable end of this. I was going outside. I led us down the sweeping staircase into the lobby, where the ceiling opened up into a dome, and got us all the way to the front doors before hesitating.

This was it. Outdoors.

Expletives. No manual override. Outdoors. ...About three minutes left. This... This was not a fantastic set of circumstances. In the least.

Cricket

I hurried after him, mind racing once again. He'd gassed the place. We had who-knows-how-much time left before we might die. I hadn't killed the lass but I'd shot her down enough that there was no way she'd make it out of the building before whenever death might happen. Getting out of the building would mean Mr. Face would have to go outside. Outside there might be more terrorists or rioters. The building was done for and -- oi my my T.Mor worked in the building.

Wait a moment. No. I couldn't simply leave. I had a real friend in there. "Waitwait, do th' employees know? Can they get out?" I noticed that Mr. Face had also stopped at the door, but probably for different reasons than me.

Mr.Face:

...We were three minutes away from being locked into the building and gassed, and he was concerned about my staff? Strange kid, this one. "There is a warning system. In some halls. If they figure it out, good for them. If not... that's not my problem." I stated bluntly. I hadn't built these things to keep my employees safe. I'd built them to keep me safe. In the future, when I was immortal, I wouldn't even need to leave the place. I could stay there, and just wait it out. No big deal. But until then, I was forced to comply with human anatomy yet again, and evacuate the facility.

"...We have to get out." I stated. Time was dwindling and I realised that I was just stalling. ...I pulled open the door... And continued standing. "You first. This... I don't like this." One could actually hear the rioting outside just from opening the door. ...It was... larger than I had anticipated, this...mob outside of the building. Oh this was so bad. And not bad in a good way. Just... holistically... a situation that I didn't want to deal with.

Cricket

"But what if T.Mor's still 'ere?" I didn't budge, not yet.

Mr.Face:

"That isn't my problem. And it shouldn't be yours either. Come on. We're down to two something minutes." I stated, awkwardly trying to get him out of the door with my limited mobility. I wondered where we could stay for the evening, because quite frankly, all this running and avoiding murder and getting blown up was horrible on the ribs and arms... and I hadn't even gotten my full hour of sleep from earlier.

I didn't want to leave either... but NO WAY was I allowing myself to be killed by my own neuro-toxins.

Cricket

"If 'e's in there, you'd expect me t' simply leave 'im?" I looked back. As if that might actually help me to know if he was safe, as if he would coincidentally be standing there in the lobby for me to warn.

Two minutes.

If he was in there . . . there was no way I could run back and find him in time. They were all in masks, for Hell's sake.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, turned back and let out a whistle as piercing and quick as the slit of a knife. "If 'e dies it's on you. 'ear me? No more walls and piano rooms. You're in th' real world now, my world." And with that, I slipped outside into the chaos of Auda. He could follow, or not.

Mr.Face:

"I'm guessing that telling you that if it were you in there and this were happening, I wouldn't have thought twice about it isn't exactly the answer you wanted..." I muttered before reluctantly following out of the building. This... this was a madhouse. ...A complete mess. "Don't keep going... Yet. This is... this is kind of... overwhelming. And if he dies, blame the terrorists."

There was a bit of a dull in the roar of the peasants once they realised that I'd walked out of the building. ...Oh fantastic. Now I was expected to address them too? "Uhm, Good evening, ladies and gentlemen..." I stated awkwardly, not quite sure how this impromptu address was going to work out. Ah well. I'd take a few minutes, and perhaps Mr.Namechov would show up and make Cricket not be all...full of emotions. "You will by now have noticed that I am not in the building at the moment. It is being routinely purged of... unsightly vermin. It is a procedure that the building undergoes once every thirty or so years, and is completely normal. We will be returning to regular business hours in seven days, and at that point in time, we will be accepting new applications for pretty much all job positions." I stated. "Unfortunately, one of our new employees accidentally set off a pipe bomb in the taxes department after a badly worded joke from a colleague, which has resulted in the hole on the side of the building. Again, regular business hours will resume in seven days. DO NOT try to enter the building before that time, or you will fall victim to the noxious fumes used to cleanse the place of vermin. Thank you, and good evening." I finished.

"DOES THIS MEAN THAT EVERYONE AT WORK RIGHT NOW DIED?" Some faceless voice from the audience asked me.

"...This isn't really an open floor style discourse... however, they were warned in advance for the most part. So... Depending on whether they have functioning ears or not... I have no idea. This isn't really the time for a Question and Answer session however, as I have to go and deal with important... things. So, direct all questions to the virtual inbox via Shrinebox, and someone will be with you in seven days regarding your inquiry." I explained shortly. I glanced over towards where Cricket had been standing. Where were we even going? I didn't know the layout of the place anymore... I'd had the map memorised at one time... but what all had changed? If anything?

Cricket

I had to pause and let him lie to the rioters, of course. Though I really was tempted to simply leave. We were suddenly on a sort of pedistal for a sort of spontanious addressing-the-public speech. After a short while he glanced at me, and I got the feeling that he didn't want to be there any more than I did. "...C'mon." I started off again.

Mr.Face:

I followed as closely as possible behind Cricket, and basically attempted to avoid actually listening to anything else. Not that that was actually possible, but it was a nice idea. I could hear the crackling of fires and miscellaneous conversations going on between passers by. I could hear my own footsteps on the uneven road. I could hear boards on windows, and shattered glass...and... I actually tried avoiding admitting the existence of the sky, and any time I realised that I was straying into territory of unnecessary verticality, I directed myself back towards the ground. The sounds all resonated off into infinity anyway, and I was painfully aware of it... but, I just tried to ignore it as we walked the streets.

"...Can I get a rough estimation as to when we'll be arriving at whatever destination you have in mind? Please? This... this is hideously unpleasant." I inquired.

Cricket

"I know where th' destination is, mate, I just 'aven't a clue 'ow t' actually get there," I said. "I'd give you a time, but I don't know."

Mr.Face:

"Well, then. Can I at least get a destination? I just need some kind of proof that we're not going to meandering the streets aimlessly without a plan. That... I wouldn't be happy with that." I stated.

I cannot express in words the amount of displeasure that I was experiencing from being outside. It was... horrifying. Completely... I wanted nothing more than to go back home and curl up with a book in my living room. Or to go downstairs and torture someone and hear the walls light up with screams. ...None of that could be accomplished, however... obviously, but, It didn't stop me from wanting it. From wanting the ceiling.

I increased my speed to keep the distance between Cricket and myself to a minimum. I didn't want to get lost. Out here. Alone. With no ceiling.

This just... this wasn't good.

Cricket

"Th' chatbox."

We seemed to be having a tug-of-war session with the distance between us. I sped up to keep my distance, he sped up to close it.

I remember getting from the chatbox to T.Mor's house. So then, there must have been a way to switch that around and get from his house to the chatbox. As much as I hated the idea of bring Mr. Face there . . . Aye, I wasn't happy with that situation, not at all. Especially since T.Mor may or may not be alive at the moment. I wasn't keen on thinking about that.

He didn't honestly have to gas the whole place, did he? Aye, it might kill some of the terrorists there, but honestly . . . the hundreds of others there. He could have ordered around some guards first. Tried to fight back before running scared.

Not that I hadn't been running scared as well . . . well, I'd been following him. Because he gassed the place. But then I'd wanted to go back in. Too late, but I had. And I didn't run after the bomb went off. He could be dead right now, but I helped him to the office and then I helped him with his useless arms and then I helped him some more by using a gun. I never used guns. Guns were a lie as soon as they touched my hands; I didn't use guns, not if I could help it.

So then, instead of letting the building get blown up a bit more by terrorists, he decided to kill everyone off before the people who don't exist did it themselves in their chase after him.

Oi my my. T.Mor could be dead.

Mr.Face:

"You do realise that the chatbox entrance is back in the building, don't you? How exactly do you plan to work around that issue?" I asked. He kept speeding up every time I went to catch up to him a bit and it was really exhausting. "Also... why are you going wherever so quickly...? It's really infuriating to have to listen and keep up and... I mean... This isn't exactly anywhere near where I'd like to be. At all." I explained, hoping that I wouldn't have to outright inform him that this was scaring me, being out here like this, and that if he slowed down a bit, I could at least hear him better.

I was slightly regretting gassing the whole building. Just slightly. Because it was exceptionally convenient to get rid of everyone, so it was a great thing. Remarkably efficient. However, it was also worthy of a modicum of regret, in that now-- I was here. Instead of for example, sitting in my office with my broken arms and taking a nap. Though really, would I have been napping right now anyway if I hadn't gassed the place? Not necessarily. I could have been murdered by terrorists, and then I would be dead. Which was blatantly unacceptable.

Cricket

"Oi my my . . ." I raised an eyebrow over my shoulder at him. A few feet of distance was infuriating, aye? . . . Aye. Not much of an outdoorsman. I looked ahead again, ran a hand through my hair, and slowed just a bit. As rather unpleasant as it might have been to have him trailing at my heels . . . "I've gone through th' chatbox t' T.Mor's 'ouse before. It should work th' other way around."

Mr.Face:

He thankfully slowed down a bit, which made it easier for me to breathe and listen to him at the same time. "Thank you." I stated, in response to the requested change of pace.

"Mr.Namechov has a house? ...Wait, of course he has a house, he pays taxes on it... nevermind stupid question. Though I thought I remembered someone at that address being punished for tax evasion once...It was years ago." I spoke, basically just to hear the echoes against the walls and against Cricket. Echoes were comforting. "And he has his own chatbox entrance? ...Fascinating." I was very close to asking if he possessed any painkillers or anything of the like, because my arms were protesting their restraints again, and I didn't want to have to deal with it at the moment.

Cricket

We walked for . . . forever, it seemed like. Wandering, really, checking streets to see if they looked familiar . . . and all of the streets kept looking the same in the same worn-down, burned-up way.

And oi my my. Finally.

"...There. I think that's it." I checked to see if Mr. Face was still following and headed straight for the door.

Then I remembered . . . T.Mor had a sister. What would I say to her? How would I ever explain . . . this?

Mr.Face:

I followed Cricket... it seemed like we were wandering aimlessly for ages. Finally, he announced that he thought he'd found the place, and we headed towards what I could only assume was the door.

I noticed that he hadn't yet knocked, but then I had to wonder if there was even anyone home. Because, well... I actually didn't know if Mr.Namechov had any remaining relatives. Or if Mr.Namechov would have even made back here before us if he had lived. "Are we knocking, or going straight to breaking and entering?" I asked, uncertain as to whether this was the best and most accommodating response, but I didn't want to remain out here all night, waiting for someone to get home if they were deceased.

Cricket

"Knocking." Why was I stalling? "... 'e 'as a sister, in th' least. If she answers let me do th' talking, a'right? ...As a matter o' fact, let me do th' talking no matter what." I knocked and waited.

Mr.Face:

He answered my question with a bit more explanation than I had anticipated, but I suppoused that since he knew the family, it was probably better that he did the talking. Especially if she spoke in the same ridiculous way that her sibling did, or if indeed he was actually there.

"NOBODY'S HOME." Came a muffled yell from behind the door.

I pretended to look over at Cricket, wondering how exactly he was going to handle that. I would have just kicked the door in, but nooo... apparently we had to exhibit our proper senses of decorum.

Cricket

"Ana, it's just me! ...Y'know, friend o' T.Mor's?" I'd almost forgotten how hard she was to talk to. Even if she did open the door, would she ever let us in? ...One way or another.

Mr.Face:

"I'M NOT ALLOWED TO LET ANYONE IN. YOU COULD BE PEDOS. OR THE GOVERNMENT. OR GOVERNMENTAL PEDOS. SO, JUST STAND OUT THERE FOR A FEW HOURS, AND IF T.MOR DOESN'T THINK YOU'RE CREEPERS, HE CAN LET YOU IN HIMSELF." Came the reply after a moment.

I was uncertain as to whether I ought to be offended at being regarded as a Pedophile or not. I certainly wasn't one... but it was just such a jarring accusation.

Cricket

I had to think about this. Knowing Ana, she might not be talked into letting us in by a simple 'please'. "Mate! Honestly, it's me! You can't simply forget th' accent, mate! ...But honestly, it's just me, and...a guest 'ere, and we're only looking t' quite literally pass through right quick and be out of your way, and only that. We don't mean any 'arm at all and we won't 'arm you either way or take anything or th' like, just walk through, but if you don't chose t' open th' door it might be kicked down and I truly sincerely don't want t' do that. Please."

Mr.Face:

I don't actually know why he was wasting his time pleading with what sounded like a teenage girl through a thin wooden door. However, he was determined to save the door, and honestly, it might have been the only salvageable aspect of the place. Ah well.

"BUT YOU'RE T.MOR'S FRIENDS AND HE'S NOT HOME! IT'S AGAINST THE RULES! YOU COULD JUST BE SOME MURDERER HOLDING HIS FRIENDS AT GUNPOINT, AND THEN WHAT? I DON'T WANT TO BE DEAD. JUST WAIT A WHILE AND HE'LL SHOW UP EVENTUALLY." She yelled through the door in return.

I personally was getting quite fed up with the entire affair. There was no reason to be listening to this child. "You're going to open this door right now, or so help me, I will turn those misguided interpretations of this interaction into a reality." I very nearly went ahead and asserted that her brother was dead, and where was her god now, but I figured that since Cricket was present he wouldn't take well to such inhospitable thoughts regarding Mr.Namechov.

Cricket

I gave Mr. Face a look. I'd told him to let me do the talking, hadn't I? "T.Mor might not show up at all!" The sentence was shouted at Ana but directed pointedly at Mr. Face. See, I still wasn't happy with him. I hadn't taken the time to think over whether blaming Face was reasonable or not, but see . . . I felt stuck fast between sorrow and denial and anger. I could sit and groan about loss all I wanted, or I could pretend nothing was wrong and painfully keep going, or I could be angry. Normally I would pretend nothing was wrong, but...normally, I'm with friends. Good friends, who I'd rather not weigh down. But then, Mr. Face . . . Mr. Face is all too easy to be angry at. All too easy to blame, so I could cover up whatever sadness happened to be there and use the anger to keep going, and so I was angry on top of sad. "You want th' truth? Th' building was bombed and then gassed. We don't know who survived. We just need t' get back t' th' chatbox, through 'ere. We can't wait for someone who might not even be... well, show up. I'm terribly sorry. Open th' goddamn door or we'll 'ave t' open it ourselves."