Alternate Battle for Dream Island

ABFDIA 22c: Smart and Free

Things were silent in Dream Island, just like it had been yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before *that* too.

For most of that time, Match and Pencil had been more than happy to make *great* use of that freedom; they'd been sleeping anywhere they felt like it, indoors or outdoors, cold or hot. It had been *ages* since they got anything remotely close to good sleep, having basically gone through torture and misery in their stint at the PRISON, and now that they had the chance to rest soundly once again, they didn't want to waste it, even just slightly. But because the universe is a cruel joke, the punchline of which is their pathetic little existence, they eventually grew bored of that. Well, perhaps 'bored' wasn't exactly the right word; the lack of *anything* going on eventually got them, causing them to become fearful and paranoid of *something* finally coming to break the lull. They tried reassuring themselves that that wasn't gonna happen; they did a few laps around the island, checked every nook and cranny, and found no one but themselves. No one else other than Rocky and Spongy, anyway, but it was easy *enough* (if you plug your nose, or whatever it is living objects have that allow them to process smells) to ignore their whole existence. They knew full well that all the others were out and about, hunting down Golf Ball and her sole friend, following what the Announcer said. But once that singular thought emerged, once it started gnawing at them from the back of their head, it just wouldn't go away.

So, of course, Match and Pencil would do what any self-respecting person would do in such a scenario: pretend that absolutely everything's *just* fine and that all you need is a little distraction to get you back into the swing of things. Never mind the fact that whenever they *feel* like something's off, it's usually because it is. Surely *this* is the one exception to that, right? The... deviation. That's a word *she* would use, no? Big, fancy science words? Ugh.

They've seen the sights and enjoyed the wonders of Dream Island once or twice or plenty of times already, but what's the harm of going through all of it again? There was always food at the restaurants, there were always games to be played at the casino, there were so many rooms to trash and create forts out of pillows and furniture. As boredom gradually chipped away at their soul, they'd do these things and many, *many* more. But eventually, *eventually*, the efficacy of these actions would wear off as well. Alongside the continuing fear that all of this would just end at a moment's notice, there was also the concern that the speaker box was *probably* watching them, and was likely a bit displeased about the fact that they were throwing everything around like they were toys. Even though they hadn't encountered him even a single time, it just made them all the more worried that he was gonna show up at some point.

It was late into the afternoon, and Match and Pencil had just gone through yet *another* day of 'fun' and 'exciting' activities. The novelty of everything was *truly* starting to wear off at this point, and their excitement was being drained for the 2,763rd time. With nothing else left on their itinerary, they decided to return to what they did best: good old conversation.

But what to talk about? Well, there was conveniently a topic set up for them already.

"You know, Pence-Pence..." The matchstick started. "I'm kinda starting to, like, miss the others." The writing utensil turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Come again?" "Don't get me wrong." The Firestarter continued. "It's fun to, like, be able to do *anything* with you without anyone else, like, complaining about it. But it's been *just* us for, like, so long now, and it's starting to feel a bit, like, creepy." "Creepy?" The drawing implement was befuddled. "If anything's creepy, it's *them*. Again, remember Leafy? They don't understand things like we do. We're better off without them." "Well, you're right." The one with the red 'hair' nodded. "But that doesn't mean that we have to, like, forget about them entirely. I mean, you remember all the times we talked about, like, what they could be getting up to, right? Where were we gonna get that information if we, like, stopped caring about them?" She'd pause for a moment to breathe, to reflect. "Where do you think they are, like, right now? What do you think they're doing?" "Uh, they're dealing with that bozo-brain bossy-bot." The one used for doodling replied. "That's what that weird machine thing told them to do. Did you forget? Are you-" "Yeah, but, like, what're they doing *specifically*? How do you think they're, like, planning to deal with her?" "It's none of our business, frankly." The tool used for sketching answered. "So long as she *finally* kicks the bucket, as long as she stops bothering us, then it's fine with me."