Chapter Seven

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A man with yellow skin and a red shirt blinked as he leaned his head to the side, noticing you waddling over.

"Hey Bitey! Look, a little kid! Ya think it's the one ENA found? Did somebody choose to adopt it?" He quizzed as a goat legged, bushy headed looking creature turned his head, his pale eyes unblinking.

"Oh yeah! Pico told me how that Girlfriend character took them in, hey buddy!" This Bitey bent down on your level, stumbling and making a click noise as he regained balance on his hoofed feet.

"What's your name, kid?" The yellow guy chirped.

"I'm Y/N!" You said proudly, Bitey smirked, sweeping you off your feet and on his shoulder, keeping an arm on you as to not let you hit the floor.

"Well, I'm Bitey, that goof is Blockhead, and— oh yeah! Phil! Hey man, forgot you were there."

"Eh, I'm pretty forgettable, it's understandable. Hey, new kid."

"Hi Mister Phil!" You beamed, he was taken aback at being called 'Mister' Phil, he hadn't really been called that many times before.

"You were in there with Salad Fingers and his friends? Cool, y'know I always suspected him  and that Monster guy to be DATING—" Bitey laughed the last word so loudly he earned a "SHUT UP" from the other room, presumably Salad as it was a raspy, shrill voice.

"Whoa! Never heard him scream before, he REALLY hates that assumption, doesn't he?" Blockhead perked.

"No, he's in denial!" Bitey joked.

Seemed jokes were spread quickly through this place, or maybe they had just heard them because they were so loud about it.

Anyway, you decided to go try and find GF and her boyfriend, so you patted Bitey on the head and pointed to the ground when he looked at you.

"Oh okay, cya kid." He let you down no problem and you bounded off, searching for bright blue hair and a red dress.

Suddenly two kids, whom you recognized, popped up in front of you.

"Hi Y/N!" Skid cheered.

"Wanna play?" Pump questioned happily.

"Oh— uhm, no thanks, I'm looking for sissy, maybe later?.." you muttered, growing anxious again.

"Oh okay! Bye!" The two boys ran off, laughing. 

You noticed a guy who looked like Captain talking with the man himself, only difference was his goggles were rounded. You walked past them and nodded, squinting ahead of you as you saw Pico talking to Nene.

"Mr. Pico! Have you seen Girlfriend?—" you blurted.

"Huh? Hold on Nene, hey kid, no I haven't but I can watch you if you want." He answered, offering kindly.

"Uhm, sure!.." you looked away as you spoke.

"Alright, follow me!" He took your hand and brought you into a room of a few people, a short yellow alien, talking to a guy in a yellow and purple shirt, and a band of  three strange men and what looked like a woman.

Nene followed Pico and you in and headed towards the alien and the man talking,  waving cheerily.

"C'mon, I'll introduce you to the people here, yeah?"

You nodded, letting Pico lead you over to the band of four people.

"Cas! I've got someone to introduce you to!" Pico exclaimed cooly.

"Eh? Oh, okay. Hold on guys. Who and where is this person, Prick-o?" A redhead who's hair shaped into horns, the lady you saw, looked bleakly at Pico, then you.

"Oh, a child, strange.. Guys come look at this!" She snickered, earning the attention of the other three.

A purple guy with a fluffy head of dark grey hair and glasses, a brunette in a blue ninja suit with some goggles on his head, and a white guy with one eye and a pale pink mohawk.

"Ew, a kid?" The mohawk kid grunted.

"Huh! That's cool!" The ninja chuckled a bit.

"Fascinating.." The purple one mumbled quietly, messing with the blue sash wrapped around his dark clothes.

'Cas' introduced her and them. "Name's Casandra, kid. Purple guy's Alucard, ninja's Hanzou, and  Mr. Mohawk over here is Cyril, we just call him Cyclops, though."

You nodded, piping up cheerfully. "I'm Y/N! You look very pretty, Miss." 

"Oh, thanks, bud." She ruffled your hair playfully, turning to Pico.

"Now, can you leave? I was tryna talk to my friends, man."

"Oh yeah, sure, say bye, kiddo." Pico nudged you.

"Bye bye." You muttered, waving.

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