No Was Never an Option.

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(5/??/22)-(Long Freaking Time)

These weren't his intentions initially, and he could say that without any trace of a lie.

He would admit that this plan -even though at times he had doubts- was quite ingenious. Sadly, this wasn't something he could've developed by himself. The detailing, the timing, and the execution of it all; it was impeccable! The plan was unexplainably thorough. Everything was on schedule. Even if the odds weren't in their favor, everything seemed to fall into the palms of their hands. And with William's compliance and the injections smarts, it looked like this previously 'far-fetched' plan was within arm's length.

Sure there were some details he might've overlooked. And yeah, he did things he never thought or felt the need to do before. Earlier this week, William was shocked after receiving a treat last second telling him to steal Ronald's keys to the pizzeria. And he certainly hadn't expected to burn down a building in a crunch -about to be two if we're keeping track here.- Not to mention killing most of the building's staff one late afternoon.

He'd done multiple twisted things this week that warranted an award for being unpredictably sickening. And yet, out of everything that's happened, all the adrenaline-pumping requests and unruly demands, dragging his coworker - who was out cold - across the establishment's floor was one of those things that'd never seemed to dawn on him.

He hadn't thought twice when the demand surfaced. Its grasp tearing into his brain about his next course of action, letting his carcass subconsciously stumble towards the conversing pair. Their choices might've taken the sacrifice of a leg from the saferoom table, a lot of force to pry the damn thing off, following a heavy blow to the back of a bewildered Kennedy's head. But not anything unmanageable.

William halted, taking a moment to dust his hands while his orange companion dropped loosely onto the saferoom floor like he was less than feckless. He put a hand to his temple, trying to rub away the head-splitting ache that swarmed him like a pack of angry hornets. William swung around with a sharp breath, his ears singed with embarrassment at the poor state of his supplies. Sadly enough his items were in the congested grocery bag that lay on its side in a pile of heaven-only-knows-what. The poor thing was practically fermenting in a mound of filth.

Pushing his embarrassment aside, William slouched to the bag's level. Carefully, he sifted through the supplies. Power tool after power tool, chains, screws, and some handmade contraption that weirdly resembled a pair of spikey onion rings. The assortment was unique.

William kicked an electric screwdriver toward the center of the room, rattling a plastic container with a victorious chuckle a minute or two after. He tossed the screws behind him, swiftly picking up the two rings with painstaking ease.

William knelt on the floor, being careful to place the rings next to Jack. He uprighted the unconscious male, making sure to hold him firmly against the wall with a knee to his chest. The orange male's head lolled to the side, making Henry scoff in disgust and begin to set the contraption.

(This section was written a while later at the near end of October 2022 and so on.)

        Innocent laughter ricocheted cheerfully throughout the building. Infecting everything and everyone with an uncontrollable urge to smile. Walking by the establishment alone could send a wave of goosebumps through somebody. Inside, the prize corner was bustling with positive activity. Children slamming tokens against the glass table, demanding the constantly low supplies of tootsie rolls and bendable pencils. The kitchen wasn't fortunate either, the chefs cluelessly ramming into each other without their head cook to operate them. Close to no orders being served to the mob outside, who were now contently watching an ongoing performance on stage.