Hatchetfield.

Defanged Monster

Ya know, maybe I had you guys figured out all wrong, Y'know? I thought you guys were a buncha nerds , but ah..."

The school's most feared bully had a genuine smile on his face. None of the teenagers in the Waylon Place had ever seen anything like it. The closest thing to that was a satisfied, sadistic smirk right after he creamed somebody or... creamed somebody. The way he was walking back and forth in the lobby, excitedly babbling about the ghost and the... "skele'uhn..." was like a little kid talking about a show they loved. It was not The Jägerman, it was Max.

"You guys throw one hell of a par–"

His complement was cut off with a terrified scream as the floorboard he was pacing over abruptly snapped.

Grace Chasity was the closest person to him. Against her somewhat sadistic judgment, she reflexively held out her hand. True to her nature, she never exercised, only exorcized. She let out a yelp as she was yanked down onto the floor, still hanging on to his hand while she was pinned down by his dead weight.

Stephanie followed, running towards the teenagers to assist the helpless Grace when she realized that she couldn't move. As she wrapped her arms around the girl, attempting to help her effort, she was grunting with the excess weight of a heavy football star Pete, who was frozen in shock, snapped out of it upon seeing her rush to aid the situation. Even though he had no muscle except for his legs, which were built up by running away from Max Jägerman, he still needed to help them somehow.

Against the pea-sized amount of judgment he had, Max looked down. Three stories below were a bunch of jagged, splintered pieces of wood. He would forever deny that he let out a whimper from the sheer primal fear of heights. Ghosts and skele'uhns were realistic and understandable enough fears, but heights were embarrassing to fear. After all, he put himself on a pedestal, he should be used to it.

Peter carefully tiptoed over, eying the floorboards with suspicion as he found a seemingly sturdy position next to Steph. He seemed uncertain of where to put his hands, not wanting to cop a feel, especially during an emergency like this. Peter decided on the clothed spot on her ribs, awkwardly wrapping around her as they attempted to pull. He leaned back so his legs could do most of the work, which appeared to be doing something , although it did not do too much to pull Max out of danger.

Ruth was next, immediately hooking her elbows around Pete's arms as she bit against her headgear under the strain.

Stephanie was grateful for the help, but they were not making much progress with pulling the newfound ex-bully to safety. "Pull him up, god dammit!"

Richie was shaking, moving his hands toward them and then toward himself as he seemed uncertain of what to do. "I-I have noodle arms!"

"Anything's better than nothing, fucking help us!" Peter yelled.

Richie jogged over, completing the train of nerds. All of them pulled with all of their pathetic might.

Ruth sighed into Peter's back. "Ah... I finally know what it's like to spoon someone..."

"Not the fucking time, Ruth!" they all chorused. Minus Grace. She struggled to say "Not the freaking time, Ruth," but her lungs were still being crushed under the opposing forces of her friends(?)'s hands and the sexy satyr pulling her down to hell. Her temptation overcame her instincts to drop him, although it would be the easiest way to get him out of her life. Her grip tightened.

Max's hands were gripped around hers, a terrified expression on his face. Grace suppressed the urge to vomit. She was committing the sin of hand-holding. She would have to pray extra hard before bed tonight.