The Aftermath.

{Checkpoint one}

   

       He hit the button. A stunning silence for just a second. Then it hit. The hundreds of TNT below his unfinished masterpiece went off. Just a mere button, ruined months worth of work. All the blood, sweat, and tears his fellow peers used to make their home was now gone within moments. The explosions were deafening, though to Wilbur it sounded like a pure symphony. He could feel himself loosing it, letting go of the once urge to choke back his laughs. He felt a strong grip around him, Phil.   

        His father. He was still protecting him after what he did; or was it just mere instinct? To hug the ones, you loved. Wilbur felt his cheeks drip with warm, salty tears as his heart sank heavily. The explosions stopped, as both men turned to see their once home destroyed. Both men could see some people gathering here the once control-room used to be, looking at Wilbur with... Hatred. Wilbur could feel their stares piercing into his soul, as he laughed maniacally. Suddenly, he gripped onto Phils sword. "Phil, kill me". The brunettes desperate eyes met Phils. "What? No- no, you are my son. We can f"—, he was interrupted by Wilburs desperate glare. "Phil, do it! Kill me! Kill your most disappointing son". Phil stared down at his sword, now pulled by Wilbur to his chest. "No NO! Youre my son g'dammit!" Phil knew he was crying, his crystal blue eyes a murky blue from the tears. Cmon Phil. They all want you too! And you know it. Just do it, please Wilbur pleaded. He did not even get to see his fathers expression when he felt a deep stabbing, throbbing pain directly in his chest. The life drained out of the brunette, making him fall to his knees on the cobblestone floor. The last thing he heard were his fathers wails, till it all went silent.

The brunette was ... alive?