Good Boy // Badboyhalo

Chapter 4

It was the day after last. And I was already driving to work.

I had to leave Bad behind because yesterday was the only time I could bring my little companion.

So, yeah, sorry Bad, I can't bring you everywhere I go. It's just not the right thing.

I do wonder if he really is a demon. What if he's just an evolved Doberman? Or an alien? I guess demon is the best guess.

Then there I was, parking in the parking lot, getting into the building, into the SBI Office, as usual.

"So Skeppy, how is it with your little companion?" Tubbo immediately asked me.

"Oh, it's good. He's been behaving." I said.

I noticed something was wrong about the room.

"..Where's Techno?" I asked.

"Oh, he left early for family stuff. He had some kind of emergency. I think he lost a family member. You know how famous his family is." Wilbur said.

"No, I don't." I said.

"Literally, Techno is the mafia boss. We're SBI, his team. And then there's the Speedrunners, which consists of Dream, Sapnap, George, and Punz. I'm not sure if Callahan is still in their team." Wilbur told me.

"Yeah, uh. I'm pretty sure Callahan is just a companion to George. Does he even count as a part of the team?" Tommy asked.

"Yes, if you ask me." Wilbur shrugged. "Then there's the Badlands of Puffy, Sam, Ant, you're kind of a part of that. And also the BloodLust Hunters, which I kind of like the name, myself, is Carson, Ponk, Mr. Beast, Fundy, Eret, and maybe me. But I'm here in SBI."

"Isn't there TWW?" I asked. TWW was The Wild West.

"Yeah, Karl, Quackity, Connor, Ranboo, Jack." Wilbur said.

"And, Amongst Us is Corpse and his friends. But we don't go into details. That group is a bit crazy." Wilbur didn't seem to approve of that group.

"We're crazy." Tommy said.

"No- I mean that they're very threatening to us. They seem mean." Wilbur muttered.

"Uh-huh." Tubbo agreed.

"I'm sure they don't mean any harm." I said.

Everyone stared at me except Wilbur.

"Fucking what?" Tommy said.

I hid my hands in between my legs. Perhaps I said that just to give myself anxiety.

"Tommy!" Wilbur harshly whispered.

"Oh, my bad." Tommy said.

Knowing my metal condition doesn't really help. Even being stared at makes me anxious. My feelings are sensitive.

"Yeah, we're sure they don't mean any harm. I mean, perhaps they're just defending themselves. It's not easy to trust a stranger, you know." Tubbo said.

"Uh-huh." I breathed in a breath.

When I got out of the building after the usual journalist mafia stuff, I drove back to my apartment.

It sure is a lot of back and forthing going on.

And by the way, I'm the journalist of the group because I type the fastest. I think I type around 65-70 WPM, aka Words Per Minute. And also Wilbur does help me with what to write. And not tell me what to type. So we're a team, like how you should expect that from a mafia team.