🕷️|The Next Battle

[2] OBSIDIAN. [2]

To say Alan Becker wasn't happy with The Chosen One's unexpected arrival would be true. Alan knew him well, and if The Chosen One had to seek refuge with them, then he must've been followed by some trouble. Which The Chosen One found completely reasonable. Alan wasn't wrong, of course.

Now, The Chosen One sat on top of the house, looking around. Two days he'd been here. The Color Gang had been welcoming to say the least, inviting him to do all sorts of activities. Most of them seemed useless. But they were surprisingly fun. The Chosen One liked Yellow and Green more, because of their tastes. Yellow was very smart, and The Chosen One held respect to that, while Green shared a wonderful taste of music.

The Chosen One sighed, stood up, and hopped down for breakfast. The Second Coming was still asleep. The Chosen One found he slept too much. As for Blue, too much like Dark— alcoholic wise. But even The Chosen One was thinking about trying the 'netherwart' that Blue seemed to love so much. And Red... well, he was fine. But every time The Chosen One checked in on him he got jumped by a pack of animals. It was annoying.

"Morning, Cho'! Made some bacon for breakfast!" Yellow said as he handed him a plate. Blue was out to take the daily life risk of waking up The Second Coming. The Chosen One sat down and ate quickly. Red was given a plate of eggs. The Chosen One looked up. "Alan doesn't eat with you?" He asked. Green shrugged, playing with his food. "Sometimes. Usually he eats out there." Green nodded at the screen.

"Oh." The Chosen One responded. Maybe he was a little disappointed. He wondered if Alan would treat him like he did these sticks— a little better than before. It would be nice. Man, wasn't he being cliche today?

The Chosen One got up. "I'm gonna go look around." He said, leaving the others. He explored a little bit, then found something intriguing— a portal of some sort, perhaps? The Chosen One touched the black with his hand. Bumpy. He wondered what material it was. He didn't play the games that his younger brother and his friends did. So, he did what any sane person wouldn't do; waltz right in.

On the other side was a sort of fortress, made of a dark red brick he didn't know very well. So he kept going.

Every once in a while he found a chest with some odd items, and when he grabbed them, a bar appeared on top of his head where it was stored. Like a backpack of the sort. The Chosen continued on, venturing through the strange place. He came across some strange life forms too. A pig. But with a body of a man. A really blocky man. The Chosen One found himself avoiding them out of sheer confusion. Until he came across a branch. Not a real one— a branch made of cobblestone, leading to several separate portals.

"Woah..." The Chosen One looked over, peeking his head through them. One of them led to a small room, with a ladder. The Chosen One scratched the side of his head and climbed up. A house? It was empty. He opened what he thought was the front door. He was back in Stick City? How? He didn't know. He turned to go back the way he came, and in front of him was a taller man.

"Who the hell are you!?"

The Dark Lord opened up the door to their old shack, looking inside. Empty. He stared at his old desk. The Vira-Bots were weak. He wouldn't make that mistake again. If he wanted to recreate them, he'd need help. And he knew he wasn't the only sociopath in town.

So, unlike anybody rational, he walked right up to Rocket, now in chaos from The Chosen One and his owns escape— and knocked right on the door.

Who answered was a random he didn't know. He just smiled politely and waved, said; "hey there!"

The response he got was a loud, girly shriek, and the guy ran off.

Well, that was easy.