Animator vs Animation: The Dark Web

Chapter 20: The Complexion

BOOM!

The loud explosion shook the earth above them, its explosion roaring through the entire cavern. Stalactites and red crystals trembled, with loose ones even cracking or shattering from the shockwave. The bound captives flinched and ducked their heads as the impact rippled through the earth, shaking the floor beneath them. Then, silence fell.

Red snapped his head up and gasped, his breath shaky. "What was that?!" Red screamed, his gaze darting back at the others. His voice was caught between fear and awe, both from the explosion and even—the fight they just observed.

    Valhalla turned towards him, his expression in bewilderment. He shrugged through his bindings; he was just as shocked as the others to even think of an answer. The Chosen One slowly lifted his head up, his body language firm, and his eyes locked up on the skylight.

    "I—I don't know!" Blue answered, stammering. He looked back and forth at the others, trying to comprehend if it was a dream.

    "Was that from... Second?" Green slowly asked, slowly lifting his head. His voice wavered, and he pulled himself tighter against the red strings.

A silence overtook the captives. It had to be him.

The rest of the captives glanced at The Chosen One, who's gaze was still locked on the skylight. They joined him, watching, waiting. The silence felt unbearably heavy—they needed a sign.

Driftwood, however, had her attention elsewhere. She turned to the shadows, looking for any sign of the controlled Officials that hid themselves in the darkness—their glowing red strings remained, glowing faintly from the black. They were still there. She took a breath of relief, but even then, she felt her chest tighten. They were still in control—but only for a few moments.

Suddenly, the lights from the strings flickered. One by one, they flared before the lights sputtered, almost as if they vanished into thin air. She lifted her head up in surprise. Did that mean—?

Suddenly, Driftwood felt a yank from her strings. She gasped as she got pulled away from the pile, before resting onto a ruined stone pillar.

"Driftwood!" Yellow shouted in alarm, squirming from his strings before—a familiar soft voice spoke.

"Yellow! Calm down."

Lemon rushed out from the darkness, raising her hands up in reassurance. She let out a breathy sigh, nodding curtly. "It's just us..."

The Color Gang remained silent, astonished. The Chosen One and Valhalla glanced at each other in disbelief. Weren't the Officials just...? One by one, the Officials slowly filed out from the shadows, clutching onto their heads as if waking up with a splitting headache.

"Lemon?" Yellow said, tilting his head, "But—what about Driftwood?" He turned to look at her, only to find that the one who pulled Driftwood away—was Mountain Mist.

Driftwood writhed against the strings erratically, overwhelmed with panic to understand her surroundings, before Mountain Mist caught her by the shoulders, her grip firm. "Stay still," she murmured, her voice hoarse. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Driftwood suddenly stopped twisting. She faltered, steadily glancing up at the Official before her. Her gaze locked onto Mountain Mist's, who held a bandage in her hand. She wasn't attacking her—but she was tending to her.

As Mountain Mist steadily pressed the gash on Driftwood's brow with her own cloak, Driftwood's breathing slowed. She softened, allowing Mountain Mist to place the bandage onto her. Valhalla watched them before glancing back at all the Officials, stunned in silence. Before he could even ask—he was cut off by Wisteria, who sighed in a sarcastic manner.