After TPOT 9, the infection was never cured. Two brings the infection to the equation playground, letting all hell loose.
Warnings for this book! Violence, sickness, gore, gore art, disturbing imagery, death
Warnings for the chapter! Violence, disturbing art
Special thanks to Xenon for TB's design!! <3
Golf Ball paced back and forth in front of her lab table. Everyone she knew had been infected besides Tennis Ball, and she honestly had no clue how to fix this. Of course, she'd be dead before she ever admitted that.
This virus had spread like wildfire throughout the TPOT arena, leaving Golf Ball practically no time to get Tennis Ball and get them both safely underground. She only recently got out to collect samples from the fallen zombies to test, so she was stuck with a table full of rotting chunks of flesh and no information. It was frustrating.
But nothing broke Golf Ball's spirit. She had her assistant, and that was satisfactory for now. Now that she'd thought of it, Tennis Ball had been avoiding her these past few days. It made her suspicious; why was he distancing himself? He was normally glued to her side like a cat. Cats....
Cat's typically run away from home when they know they're going to die. Many people believe it's because the cat doesn't want to die near it's owner, but Golf Ball, of course, knew it was to find a quiet place to rest. It did get her thinking though....
"Hey, TB?" Golf Ball called out into the empty room. When met with no response, she walked out of the testing room, into the main area of her lab. "TB!?" She raised her voice.
"Golfie?.." A weak whisper was faintly heard from the stairs. Golf Ball turned toward the voice quickly, taking several steps closer before stopping herself. "Tennis Ball?" Golf Ball called again, quieter now. "Can you come here..?" The voice seemed a little louder.
Golf Ball hesitated, knowing that Tennis Ball could be hurt but also having her suspicions of infection. "Please, Golfie... It hurts.. It hurts so bad..." The whisper suddenly sounded more strained than before, as if imitating pain.
"What's wrong?" Golf Ball caught on to the sudden shift in tone, the possibility of a prank crossing her mind. "You aren't funny, Tennis Ball." She stepped back, about to turn back around before movement caught her eye. Tennis Ball.
He staggered out from behind the second set of stairs, standing just above the first. His jaw was hanging loosely, teeth unnaturally long and thin. "Golfie.." It groaned out, stumbling to the side before lunging forward, nearly falling down the steps.
Golf Ball screamed, immediately scrambling backwards. "No, no no nononoNONONONONO TB NO!!" She nearly lost her balance, running off toward the emergency exit. Tennis Ball kept pace, mindlessly scrambling after her.
Golf Ball turned a corner too quickly, feet slipping from under her. As she looked up, the creature was lunging at her, trying to bite. She quickly rolled to the side, kicking both feet as hard as she could into the side of his knee, causing it to snap.
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Tennis Ball let out a pained screech, turning around and sinking it's jagged teeth into her leg. As the pain set in, Golf Ball screamed, but as the realization set in, she just sobbed. Sitting there on the floor, weakly trying to scoot away as her former assistant happily tucked into her leg, she knew she was dead.
After an agonizingly long time, the pain faded to numbness, despair shifted into a feeling of hunger, and thoughts grew incoherent.
