"Iggy, I can't let that happen." Writer responds.
"You're a child, imagine being subjected to violence everywhere you go. I can't let your mind be filled with that." He added.
"Well if no one's going to act, then who will?"
"Why do you think did they send me here for?" Writer argues.
"That's obviously not enough! Look! Everyone's still dying. There's no threat, we always play the weak side!" Iggy replies.
"If Pickle wants to fight, then I'm ready to be Massacre's threat." He added.
"...Big words from a script writer." Writer shrugs.
"IT'S NOT LIKE I CAN'T FIND A WAY TO BEAT HIM!"
The pickle calms Iggy down.
"Alright, alright. Iggy, Thank you, but your welfare is at risk if you're with me. Knowing Massacre, he won't lay a hand on creatives like you but we don't know if he still will if you lay a hand on him."
"Besides, at least I can rest knowing know a friend or two that's safe from him."
He pauses for a while. Something comes up to the pickle's mind.
"... He's going to Timeline-2 in 104 hours."
"Wait, that can't be right, there are tons of creatives there..." Writer responds.
"And there's a lot of people there, too." The pickle replies.
But then, it was only the two of them at the front yard of Yip's house. The wheelbarrow vanished.
"...Where did Iggy and Yip go?" Writer says, wandering his head around.
The two kids had left for Iggy's workshop.
The wheelbarrow rushes into the streets. Iggy, oblivious of his surroundings, looks behind him.
"AAH! YIP! THE HECK ARE YOU DOING HERE!?"
"...Justice." Yip replies.
Iggy smiles.
"Heh. You read me perfectly."
As their arrival to the workshop grows imminent, Iggy jumps out of the wheelbarrow, losing balance. Iggy immediately runs to his room and starts packing his bag. Yip is reading the papers Iggy had written.
A mess of clothes, pens, and papers coming out from the room door. There is noise from inside the room.
Iggy comes out of the room lightly wounded for some reason.
"Bag's packed! How does it look?"
"...Grey bags don't suit you."
"Hehe, it's all I have." Iggy replies with an upbeat attitude.
A few hours later, at the town's train station...
A train conductor is waiting at the station, looking at the corpses of the people in it.
"The heck happened here?" He casually says, smoking a cigarette.
Writer, carrying the giant pickle, arrives at the station. Children spared by the attack tag along.
"Careful now, you don't wanna break me!" The pickle tells Writer.
"Are you sure you don't wanna say goodbye to Iggy first?"
"Well, it's kinda his fault that he left..."
Yip looks at Writer. She gives a hand signal to Iggy.
He sneaks his way into the train.
"Anyway, send him my thanks!" The pickle replies as Writer carefully stations him in the train cabin.
With a smile, Writer closes the train door.
Then, from behind a waving Yip, comes a few of her clubmates.
"Oh, there you are, Yip! Who are you waving to?" One of the kids asks.
Yip, startled, looks behind her.
"...Why are you acting like you didn't lose your parents?" Another child replies.
...
"Goodbye, my dear parents." Yip says, kneeling down.
"YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY FAKING IT!" her clubmates shout.
Meanwhile, the train horn rings aloud. The wheels moving along the tracks slowly.
From the cabin, a relaxed Iggy breathes a sigh of relief.
"Phew, good thing everybody's dead. If not, they would've caught me..."
Did Iggy hear himself right?
"That came out wrong..."
Meanwhile, an optimistic Writer waves enthusiastically at the train.
"Mr. Writer? We saw Yip waving to Iggy. He's in the train." One of the kids interrupts.
Writer snaps.
"OH SHOOT, IGGY!"
Iggy overhears Writer's scream.
"Holy crap~" Iggy exclaims, jumping off his seat.
...Writer chases the train.
"STOP THE TRAIN! STOP IT!"
Iggy hiding under the table...
"STOPPPPP!"
Then hiding inside the couch...
"IGGY!!!"
Then hiding behind the train conductor.
The conductor slowly looks back at Iggy...
...Then he awkwardly looks back at the windshield.
The train speeds up.
Alas, the train is too far for even for Writer to catch up. Writer is out of breath.
"Oh dear..."
Then there's the giant pickle in one of the train cars, keeping his composure.
"This place is so weird... Crops with faces, children that can't seem to understand the gravity of their parents' deaths..."
"It's like how we eat our crops. Guilt-ridden at first, then indifferent on the aftermath. Culture."
Iggy replies, his hands behind his head.
"Hehe... That's one heck of an attitude if I say so myself..."
Nothing else but the sound of the rails can be heard.
"Wait a minute... WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?"
"I said... I'm joining you! Whether you like it or not." Iggy says, crossing arms.
"I mean~ I like it, but your safety. Jesus! How about Writer?"
"He can handle burying everyone by himself."
...
"Kid, that was an irresponsible thing to say... and what you did is an irresponsible thing to do."
Both of them froze...
"...But DANG, I like it! Welcome to the crew! At least I don't have to suffer by myself anymore."
"...Who says we're gonna suffer?"
The pickle looks at Iggy's face after hearing such words.
"No one has to suffer anymore because from this day forward, WE'RE FIGHTING BACK!" Iggy says, standing up on the table with enthusiasm.
There's a burst of laughter from Iggy and the pickle's faces.
From a distance, Writer is pulling on his hair. The children are merrily waving from the station.
"God... Follower better take care of my son..."
"He's your son?" Yip overhears his monologue.
"No, I was being figurative..."
Back in one of the train cars, Iggy and the pickle are mindlessly talking to each other.
"...So, your name's Follower, right?" Iggy asks the pickle.
"Or you can just call me Pickle."
"Pickle..." Iggy snickers.
Back in one of the train cars, Iggy and the pickle are mindlessly talking to each other.
---
IGGY
...So your name's Follower, right?
FOLLOWER
Or you can just call me Pickle.
IGGY
(Snickering)
Pickle...
---
From her office, The Director reads the printed script. She rings the telephone.
"Hello? Dispatch some creatives to Timeline-2 immediately. Follower intel suggests he's going to that place in four days and we don't know why."
"Also... Dispatch 1KX to Golden Ridge HQ." She added.
"We're not done putting all the data yet... why?" A choppy response from the telephone.
"Three years is enough work for that thing. Besides, Follower has change of plan. He now has script-writing kid to back him up. Also, he calls himself Pickle now."
"Uh, did I hear that clearly... a kid?"
"Doesn't make any sense either. But either way, it's a good opportunity to try 1KX out. The kid he's with has a creative mind~ that's all he needs to be perfect for that."
"G~ got it, Ma'am."
The woman puts the phone to rest.
"Iggy... What a weird name."