John clutched Stove, Refrigerator and Band-Aid to his chest. Fear was running through him as the hot air was cutting through his skin.
The bus was riding along a crack-covered freeway. The trees surrounding this freeway were thin and ashen. They had only sharp sticks for branches rather than healthy leaf-full sticks like the trees should have during the summer.
It was clear that the Trolls had started fires. That was inconsequential to John, though. Right now he could only focus on one thing.
WHAT IF HE FUCKING LOST HIS BABIES!?!?!
John knew the bus wouldn't stop if one of his dragons slipped from his blubberly arms. People had already been expressing negative sentiments about the dragons. So It was clear that they wouldn't be willing to show a hint of mercy to them. Especially with the state the world had been in the last few weeks.
So John clutched the Dragons to his chest with as much possessive love as he could muster. If he let up for even a second, then they would be gone.
Please be okay.
...…
For three hours, John hung there. With his fat pressed up against the bus, and his face curled into a frown full of agony.
As that time passed, he saw many strange sights. He saw a town full of twisted and malformed bodies. He saw an old man standing in a pentagram filled with Troll's heads below him. He even saw a dragon flying through the sky. It had golden scales that John thought were quite distinct.
After seeing all those sights. All while holding his Dragons in his arms. The bus stopped.
"WILL SOMEONE PLEASE CUT THE FATASS OFF MY BUS! THIS IS HIS FAN FLIPPING STOP!" Yelled the bus driver in an accent that was a disturbing mix of Texian and French.
Although Texian and Frech would be the right names for the accents, both institutions had collapsed a long time ago.
Dude walked out of the bus with a smile on his face and a box cutter in his hands.
~I think I would notice If Dude had been logging some box cutters around with him this whole time. So that means people getting tied to the bus has to be common enough to warrant buying a pair of box cutters. Crazy.~
Dude clipped the wires off John.
"AH!" With a short clipped scream, John fell roughly half a foot to the ground. His legs buckled as he fell they were unable to hold up his weight. His knees were driven straight into the pavement.
John grit his teeth, expecting some pain from this injury. But strangely, other than the ground feeling a bit scratchy, there was no pain.
John mentally shrugged and chalked up the lack of damage to the system.
"ALL RIGHT! GOOD! NOW GET BACK INSIDE!" Yelled the bus driver.
Dude motioned to walk inside the bus for a moment then paused.
"I don't think I will." Said Dude.
The bus driver stuck his head out of the bus. The bus driver had a skinny face. Small shoulders. And bent jutting teeth. His lips were curled upwards, and his eyes held the utmost aggression. He looked like an angry Chiwawa.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T THINK YOU WILL! YOU FUCKING HAVE TOO!" He yelled.
Dude simply smiled his trademark cocky smile.
"I don't think I will."
"WELL GO FUCK YOURSELF THEN!"
The door to the bus slammed shut. Then the bus sped away. The sound of skidding tires and the smell of burnt rubber filled John's senses.
Weeell shit.
They hadn't told him what he was supposed to do. How was he going to pass the test when he didn't even know what test he was taking?
John turned to Dude.
"Did they have any information on what the test is going to be?" Asked John.
"Yeah, they had little pamphlets. Here's yours. I stole it."
John graciously took the pamphlet from Dude.
"Thanks."
The pamphlet told him that trolls were assailing a small town three miles north of here. It was John's Job to kill all the trolls and anyone who had used the sudden chaos to kill others.
"Okay. What's your mission?" John asked Dude.
"Oh. I'm supposed to assassinate some would-be dictator fifty kilometres from here. But I'm going to hang out with you and give myself less than the allotted week to do that task. Because that makes the least sense."
John still couldn't help but suppress a lingering sense of bafflement at Dude's reasoning.
"Well Oka~~~y."
John turned and started walking. He would follow the map on the pamphlet until he got to the town.
For three hours, they walked in silence. The only sounds made were the occasional exited Yips from Band-Aid when Stove played with it each other.
Other than that there was only complete silence.
That is until the screams came.
And oh what magnificent screams they were. Horrified screams. Bone-crunching, world-bending terror-built screams.
"NO PLEASE NOOOO!" Screamed a woman.
"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOOOOOOU!" Screamed a man.
"DADDYYYYYYYYYYY!" Screamed a little girl.
Grief, Horror, Hate. It was the sound of war.
John walked by the trees obscuring his vision. And revealed before him was a bloody scene. The ground was covered in deep red blood and marching in organized lines were green-skinned large-nosed creatures.
They marched in rows of short and tall Monsters. The short monsters all had their trademark blue shields surrounding them and the tall monsters had their wicked snarls and heavy clubs.
"Those bruisers' average height Really is impressive." Said, Dude.
"I mean. I'm like five ten and they're all like eleven inches taller than me."
John nodded. They were all only a bit shorter than John. So Dude's assessment of their height was pretty accurate.
Okay. Time to get down to business.
It was time for John to do what giants like him were made for.
It was time to wreak havoc.