King's huge frickin' book of randomness galore:The ultimate

The 411

"THAT ASSHOLE!" Shouted the convict, slamming his fist into the wall behind him.

"Calm down. We'll figure something out." Said the first to board the elevator, running his hand through his hair.

"Are we pooped?" Asked the youngest of the three, sitting on the floor.

"Looks that damn way....He didn't even tell us shit!" Barked the convict, throws his hands up, his voice filled with anger.

"He gave us hints. Told us we needed to go forward. We just....well....go forward from there."

"Oh yeah?" Sniffed the convict, raising a brow. "And who the hell knows what's forward? Remember ALL his words? Besides, I don't trust that prick. Could be trynna pick us off early."

"I don't think it's any use, mister," Said the child, who had taken to drawing on the floor with his nails. "I look every other way and I didn't find nothin'. Looks like we're in for nothin' but adventure!" He chirped, looking up.

"He's got a point," Piped up the first again. "It's all we've got."

The convict wanted to protest, though he growled, knowing there was nothing more he could say, sighing in defeat. "Fine. We listen to the frickin' kid. If we die I'm tellin' the big man upstairs it was the kid's idea." He grumbled, leading the way down the narrow path, marked with a large arrow that beckoned them forward, through a dark door, which led to a platform.

"Great. Now where are we?" Asked the convict, arching his brows.

"Some sort of....platform, it seems...." Said the first, looking around.

"WEEEE!" Chuckled the kid, immediately running ahead with his arms out, treading the platform.

"Wait! Hold on!" Called the first, stepping forward, though the kid payed no head, running forward with giddy glee.

The convict went after him, just in time to catch something the kid didn't, and get him out of the way.

"KID! GET DOWN!"

"Huh?"

He tackled the boy, using his arm to block what would've been the young boy: An axe, large and gleaming, tainted with the blood of some unfortunate victim before them. 

"Ngh...Hrgh...."

The convict grunted, blood trickling from his arm, stubbornly using it to repel the piece of steel.

"Mister, you're-!"

"Hurt? Yeah....Don't worry about it, kid...Just a flesh wound." He chuckled with a good-natured smile, struggling to his feet, staring the wielder of the axe in the eyes: They were red and gleaming, full of single-minded, violent malice, contrasting against the void that seemed to hold it, desolate from head to toe, covered sparsely in armor of a shade not much lighter, or very heavy,  desperately trying to remove the stubborn obstacle in his way. 

"Yeah...I don't think so pal...." Grunted the convict, lifting his arm up even further, forcing the blade upward in consequence, using his weight to set the attacker off-guard, barreling into him with all his might, planting his feet at the very edge, watching as they plummeted below with a whistle.

"Well that was somethin'..." Muttered the convict, giving a low grunt of pain as they tore the axe from their axe, hefting it's weight with his good hand, giving a chuckle. "Heh, guess this is mine now." He said, looking back to the boy. "You okay kid?"

The boy brightened, rushing toward the convict and throwing his arms around his neck.

"You were so cool, mister! You really showed em' what he was messing with! I hope I get the chance to do somethin' like that!" He beamed, causing the convict to raise his brow with a chuckle. This was one odd kid....

"Maybe you will, kid. Let's hope not." He said, looking over to the first, who had watched the events transpire, tossing his head the opposite way.

"What are yah waitin' for? Let's get a move on," He said, walking forward with his new axe over his shoulder, the kid skipping up to his side,  heading forward.

Sighing, the first followed after them, noticing something etched on the wall of the exit, taking a moment to read it before he caught up:

"The 411? Survive. Good luck with that!

-The keeper"