Brown ran. His footsteps followed him, far too loud in the eerily quiet street. The Strider surely hadn't died that easily, and he might be desperate enough to leave his hiding place and try to take him hostage again.
He had to get as far away from the warehouse as he could.
But his new legs were already cramping underneath him, and he didn't know where he was going.
He didn't recognise the street around him. It was a hot, hazy place, lined with palm trees and the ruins of shopping malls.
Where was he? How far had the Strider carried him?
At the end of the street, there was a crossroads. Two wide, featureless streets in either direction.
He turned right.
Why were there no agents around? The Strider was hiding from someone. Unless he was so delirious he was hallucinating...
Keep running. You're small and he's huge. He won't find you.
He'll hear your footsteps, so loud and clumsy.
Maybe he should run into one of the buildings that lined the road, hide in a ruin. The sight of burned concrete and shattered windows was not welcoming. He had a feeling he might run into someone else hiding in there, and not a friendly someone.
It was so hot the air shimmered. He paused and leaned against the husk of a car.
Nervous, he looked down the long street behind him. No one.
No Strider. But no friends either.
He was tired. His legs were shaking and burning.
He had to keep going. Soon, he would find a friend. Surely.
At the end of the street, he found another crossroads. He turned right again.
Wait. Brown felt an overwhelming, sick sense that he was being watched. He huddled against the side of a building, wishing that he was even more small and insignificant than he already was. He looked up and down the long, empty street. No one. He peered up into the sky. Nothing but blue haze and sun.
He felt so exposed in the emptiness, more like a bug than ever.
If only he could call out.
But what would he say?
Help?
Are there any Agents around?
HELP!
And then he heard it. A distant crash, like thunder, followed by a clumsy second crash, and a third...
The Strider was coming for him.
Brown ran like he'd never run before. His legs felt like they were tearing apart underneath him. He reached the end of another street and hesitated. He'd chosen right too many times.
Left, then.
He ran in increasing pain, wondering when his body would give out. Those monstrous footsteps filled the world. He stopped, his whole body shaking, and listened.
Crash, crash.
It was hard to tell where the Strider was.
Maybe he had to take the risk and shelter in a building. He looked uneasily at a shattered glass window opening to a mess of burned mannequins and trash. There would be places to hide in there.
But he might not be the only one hiding.
The idea of running into an angry, desperate Skibidi soldier in that dark place was very real.
YOU ARE READING
Not Alone
أدب الهواةAfter episode 57, Brown Cameraman finds himself alone, abandoned by his allies and left to die. Trapped behind enemy lines, Brown finds himself in a bad situation that keeps getting worse and worse. Skibidi Toilet is by dafuqboom.
