(yeah ok i can work with this new formatting)
"Psst. Bomby. Hey."
The living explosive in question was in the perfect conditions to hear that; absolutely no one else was around, and there wasn't even the slightest breeze to make any sort of noise. And yet, despite it being quite obvious that the voice *did* indeed speak, and it wasn't some sort of strange hallucination or other, he wouldn't budge at all in response.
The competition keeps throwing curveballs in each and every step of the way; contestants can suddenly change their allegiance on a whim, or a new host could take the reins and take things in a completely different direction, or the challenge could simply be... difficult. Whatever the case may be, the Battle for Dream Island (Again) leaves a lot on an aspiring winner's plate, and basically *no* time whatsoever to metaphorically chew. You were expected to just move on with it; everyone does, and being left behind pretty much ensured your elimination. What could you possibly do?
"Bomby. C'mon. I know you can hear me."
But what if you *did* want to sit on it, even for just a little while? For most, that wasn't really an issue; they've invested months and years into the competition at this point, their whole lives basically revolving around it at this point. They had nothing left to gain, nothing to lose, and nothing to return to if they wound up empty-handed. If their lives were to have any meaning whatsoever, they just *had* to keep going. It was a decision that was easy to make.
But for Bomby? There was a lot more to take into account; it mainly revolved around the fact that he was a living weapon. A literal ticking time bomb. Well, maybe only just that last part was literal. He might not have the same jagged edges as some of his fellow W.O.A.H. Bunchers, but still, merely *existing* was a threat to himself, to others, and to the environment. One spark or fire at the wrong place and time, and he would be no more, nothing but a big crater on the ground. Just *living* like that on his own would be bad enough, but living in a competition where everyone's *politely* nudged towards aggression? Where they're more than willing to use anything and everything as a weapon, even their own allies? And what happens if he ends up not winning Dream Island? What exactly was the plan for the lives of those that don't get to be the lucky winner? Was there gonna be any thought for them whatsoever?
"Ugh. I didn't really wanna do this, but you're kinda leaving me no choice, ya know?"
A hard hit from a speeding pebble finally got Bomby to snap out of it. "OW!" Immediately he'd turn to the perpetrator and start shaking them down, regardless of whether or not they were his teammate. "NICKEL! What were you *THINKING*!" He'd shout. "You could've set me off right then and there! I could've *EXPLODED*!"
"Calm down, calm down." The new Coiny wasn't all too concerned about it. "I *thought* of that. For about 2.763 microseconds. Besides, you *didn't* actually go off, did you?"
Bomby silently stared at him with an angry look on his face, which the coin creature took to mean that everything was all well and good again and they're super duper best friends that the world could not *absolutely* pull apart ever. Never. "Anywho, I popped in to say hi. Hello!" Nickel smiled. "Also, I wanted to ask if you wanted to spend some time hanging out and swimming in that lake; we don't have much on our schedules anyway, so we can probably take time to relax, float around, just have some good ol' fun. You'd like that, right?"
The bomb raised an eyebrow, unamused. "Are you *KIDDING*?" He'd shout. "Don't you remember the last time we were there? We drowned! We *died*! There's absolutely *NO* way I'm going back there!"
The coin that wasn't Coiny would be quick to start coming up with some sort of witty response, but that'd be made a bit more difficult by the fact that Bomby brought *that* up. Immediately, the memories of *that* incident would start flooding his mind (hah, get it). That feeling of great helplessness and desperation, realizing that you're stuck in that great blue void with no way out. Feeling the last puffs of air escaping your system, your lungs (or whatever's in there) filling with water, your legs forcefully flailing around to get yourself back up to the surface, but to no avail. All you can do is endure the great and horrific pain as your body collapses in on itself, all the vital things that keep you alive giving up one by one, all the thoughts in your head rushing, your brain being filled with all the regrets, the chances you didn't take, the opportunities you didn't seize. And perhaps, if you would be so lucky, you'd feel your body, almost entirely deprived of life, sinking like an anchor into the underwater floor, the last thing you see being absolute nothing but the dark depths as your vision fades, your body finally expires, and your consciousness is transported to who-knows-where, where all sorts of unknown and unfathomable horrors await.
