Chaotically Neutral

Chapter 8

Pimpernel now couldn't help but notice the deafening silence that was coming from the main part of the group, him missing out on the entire showdown that had just taken place. He was still over in the part of the warehouse that seemed as though it could totally be used as a kitchen. There were cabinets, and a large enough window to let in enough sunlight for an army of angry children. It rattled on occasion, as the wind around them was going through another burst to bring on the beginning of wind season and the glass was very loosely secured.

He was digging through everything he could find, running his finger along the mysterious red stains until his fingers were dripping with their fluid. It felt thick and sticky, and still held that iron taste that he had announced earlier.

Pimpernel was having a hard time holding himself still, and he figured that it probably had something to do with that white power he had accidently gotten all over his face. He was trying to figure out what it had been, remembering the taste of it. It had been extremely sweet, and felt like a crystal or rock, while still being small enough to be able to move. And when it did move, it made a rushing sound like a river made out of magic.

A weird white box was in the corner, it standing a foot taller than Pimpernel, and when he opened it he was greeted with a cold rush of air and a pungent smell of spoiled and rotten plants and animals. There was also the chilling sight of more red liquid that had dried along the inside of the strange icebox, and Pimpernel shivered before closing it.

The group of people in the other room had begun to talk again, most of their conversation aimed towards Winston. It seemed to be getting interesting now, so Pimpernel stuck his head out from the kitchen room and started to listen intently.

"What the hell was that?" Christopher demanded, pushing everyone else aside to present himself in front of Winston with greater force.

Winston was staring at the direction of the door before letting a single insane chuckle out of his mouth. "I know, right? 'Tristan'? I mean, man, I knew he was really stupid but he's not one for originality. That... that was just plain awful last minute name choice right there."

Rick, Amar, and Christopher all placed their hands on their hips with a seriously demanding tone in their eyes.

"That's not what we meant," Chris said. "Who was that? What was that? Why didn't you tell us that there were two of you?"

Winston let out another little chuckle before looking around at them all and copying their gesture. "I think most of the obvious has been made clear, no? But if you're really so desperate for an answer I could tell you a really long, boring history of me and everything I am. But that's really boring."

"Would you stop being so stupid, just for like, a day? Would that be too hard? Just shorten it down."

Winston let out a sigh of angry defeat and turned his full attention onto Christopher. "Fine. Let's just say that the first time I came down here, which was the beginning of intelligent life, a sort of clone of me was created. In this town. Where I started out. And ever since then he's been here, waiting for me to come back.

"He's basically just a version of me that thinks he's really smart because he can wave his hands around and everything just blows up. But an explanation isn't what we came here for, nor is it really relevant to the situation now that he's left and none of you got hurt. We came here to clean up this damn house, so that's what we're going to do."

Pimpernel could tell that everyone was dissatisfied with his answer, but they all started to grab their individual cleaning supplies and dissolved to smaller groups with the same goal of making the house a better meeting place for the principal that the boy was now most certainly certain Christopher was right about when he started ranting about how unbelievable her actions were.