The slim figure slipped through the opening, sticking a landing. The underbelly of the forest was much like the surface, entirely wrapped in gnarled mesh of root and branch. These carried less organized structure to them, however, hanging down from the low ceiling not tightly bound into any pillars. Studding the expanse, the tendrils would curl around tiny beads of light, scattered and numerous rather than concentrated and distant. Even the combined effort of the subterranean starlight left the organic cavern dimly lit. Only patches of objects were revealed as they passed a source, Greenborne discovered, losing track of himself within the darkness.
"Oo, I'm so scared," laughed the maniac. "What's gonna happen? A giant gopher is gonna bite me? Ha-hah!" Quickly recalling that something just that bizarre would be the ideal choice of the horrendous dungeon he found himself within, he promptly shut his trap. The giant gopher tracks indented into the wood also cued the change in his mind. "Well, I-know-what-would-be-much-worse," blatantly and blankly stated the man, "if-I-were-assaulted-by-a-legion-o'-scanty-clad-wild-ladies. I-would-really-loath-that." Glancing about with anticipation of a female dog pile, his wish never came. "Damn." With an angry shrug, he strolled on, bounding a hand in chain to add a little kick to his punch. "An' there's no one here to hear that? Hells! What a wasted line," moped Frederick. "For serious, this place better spice up real quick," fumed the Disaster, pacing through the serene scene a bit longer. The armament was not needed at the moment, but something told him it would come in handy. That something was every experience he had at this damned abode. "If action don't happen quick, I'm gonna hafta-" The ceiling split as light poured in, ushering in a blurred shape that crashed upon the fiend. Crushed against the floor by the mass, its soft, squishy form began to stir as it emitted a high pitched sound.
"Omigawd, are you okay?" He owed the hell pit an apology. The young girl leaned over to see if the cushion to her fall was in sound health but quickly leapt off before obtaining it, realizing that her weight still upon him was not remedying any situations. "I am sosorry about that. I kinda just sank through. Ha hah." Rolling around, the lunatic desired a better look at the package from heaven. For once, he was disappointed by a woman. At the same time, a frozen Hell darkened with flocks of pigs in the sky. She was one of them, an Ofan. Her hair was long, down to her waist, but only from two streaks pulled down from her sides. All of her hair was dyed a blindingly bright shade of blue, bearing a near plastic appearance with its tremendous application of styling products to hold it in its outrageous shapes. Her nose had been whittled down from cosmetic surgeries to a near needle like point while her eyes beamed clear and wide. A burgundy t-shirt with some ornamental white stripes down the sleeves clung to her body, barely fitting around her other surgery. The extra stretching pulled it up far past her naval. Her exposed belly was just that with some to spare. Rather than a fraction of it displayed between her clothing, it was the majority. Cumbersome gauntlets constructed out of several leather straps with functionless buttons overlapped on her otherwise diminutive hands, inflating their naturally admirable size. Denim hung from her legs in two loose hose. Panels stretched up and down the sides, emblazoned with several black swish marks arranged in collected locations to mimic that of an actual language. It meant nothing as, together, the letters spelled gibberish. They were only picked for their looks before poorly being copied to the article. Her feet met the same unfortunate end as her hands, buried under piles of straps until a ballooned girth was obtained. This was mostly guessed at since the whole shoes themselves could not be seen. However, judging that the large toe of a shoe protruded from out the wrinkled mess of cotton spilled out from her pant legs, it was likely the case.
"The name is Annie," the abomination greeted with a cat like smile and wink while sticking out her hand, "Annie May Sakyotsunemi."
"... I wanna frickin' tear ya apart," growled Fred as he helped himself up.
"Eh?"
"I said, I wonder what brings ya to this part," falsely he repeated, not even bother to match tone or pace to make the two sentences similar, tagging on more silently, "ya monstrous bitch."
"O. K.!" the freak show responded with a V-shaped hand gesture and a sly protrusion of her tongue, at the same time managing to curl her closed eyes upward. "Well, I was just passing through this place with some of my school friends when, suddenly, we got totally sent to this other dimension. It's all so creepy and scary! We're using this time to explore our relationships with one another."
"As opposed to find a way out," flatly asked Rick, "or doin' anythin' with the countless objects o' interest within this realm?"
"... I'm also looking for my pet. Have you seen him?"
"Aw, the widdle girlie wost her kitty? Sure, doll, what'd he wook wike?" pandered the demented man. He never spoke in such a fashion before, but he knew it was unbearable, thus why he only used it in his current situation.
"Don't be silly," giggled the mutant. "It's not a cat. It's a kraffol! Yuriki is pretty hard to miss, too. He's very pink."
"That thin' was a guy? Ew, man! I'm glad I killed it dead! ... Crap." Unable to contain his disgust any further, it came out along with his dark, yet proud, secret. The almost innocent look of the lass sank, descending a downward spiral into black hatred as her emerald eyes burned with fury. Her demeanor, however, was more the same as it was previously, eerily transfixed like the face of a porcelain doll. Normally, such a trait was deemed flattering to Greenborne. His preferences in the fairer half aside, such thoughts would only serve as a distraction, and what few thoughts he had about him would be needed to avoid death at the hands of an Ofan. It was not a likely outcome, granted, but the shame of such a fate could not be risked. His ancestors from up to twenty generations ago would rip him a new one in the afterlife. Jumping back, a massive hammer produced from thin air came crashing before him, silently striking the floor. With a step forward, the mighty maul was dragged upward, landing square against Greenborne's chest. He wanted to moan in pain as his ribs were shattered but he found he could not. It was not from his lungs collapsing but from there being no damage dealt. The giant head had simply bounced off, as if it were some hollow, plastic toy, which it, of course, was. There was no other way such a frail girl could wield such a weapon. It just does not happen in the real world, unlike giant gophers. While the prop was exchanged for something that would yield an actual result from the bunny tote bag the twisted freak carried, the flowery one not the smelly, the latter plunged forward, seizing his chance to strike. Link laden knuckles cracked against the top of her skull, rending the ocelot facsimile cap she had worn. It did not help his situation any. With a feline hiss, poorly imitated, a secret weapon was produced from the cotton tailed pouch.
"A deck of cards?" whined the Four Fingered. Flashing a cunning grin, the top of the box was opened with a slide of her thumb. Jolting her hand upward, the deck escaped its confines where it was snatched from the air, still maintaining a pristine arrangement with all corners plumb. Cutting the deck equally into both hands, the sheets were splayed out in a fan arrangement. Greenborne threw up his arms to prepare for an onslaught.
"Draw!" The arms slid down, revealing the look of utter confusion mixed with horrified disgust. "Come on, now," Annie May insisted as she continued shuffling her deck. "Get yours out."
"I, um... don't have one," proudly explained the fiend while still dastardly cowering behind a guarded stance, "as I'm sure the majority o' the population does not." He returned to a full cover for but a moment before dropping it entirely. "Those thin's aren't even sharp, are they?" His answer was given as a hand was tossed at his face which unblinkingly took the split stack without receiving a single mark on his already marred skin. "Why ain't ya deader?" Rick cried and then cried in a completely different manner. Flinging up a foot, heel clashed with chin, opening the deformed damsel to an easy attack. Sprinting at her, his arm caught against her chest, gripping her shoulder, as he lifted and carried her in his dash. She was caught on her enhancements, helpless to remove herself from his hold. Raising her up as he leapt from the floor, the maniac laid both their bodies out flat, side by side, facing opposite direction, only his elbow was placed over her gut. When they crashed into the ground, it was the mutant that caught both their weights as his limb pressed up into her thoracic cavity. Rocking over onto his impaling joint, driving it harder into her flesh, his legs kicked out to spin around his body over the pivot point, squirming the jutting bone around to inflict more torment. Running out of momentum, Fred rolled onto his shoulders, planting his feet flat on the ground and rising up straight. Polishing his metal knuckle, he dropped to his knees with an iron fist clashing towards the victim between, but the Ofan was refusing to abandon her pathetic life. Frantically digging through her coney purse, the clatter of random items was detected by the devilish fiend. With no need to behold his target, a fleshless elbow was swung backwards, nailing the girl's spine. Stunned, the freak dropped her sack and whatever she was seeking. Turning about, the psychopath stood Annie May up and did what he always wanted to do to her kind. He literally kicked her ass. The forceful punt sent the twisted subhuman sailing. Mid-flight, she was swallowed by a swiftly passing, gigantic gopher that came and went without warning.
"I so called that!" pleasantly proclaimed the surprised lunatic as he tried to find someone to rub the fact into the face of as he had predicted its arrival for some time. "Why can no share m' moments o' triumph?" Hanging his head in defeat, a spoil of war was located as, at his feet, rested the rabbit bag. "Heh. 'Tis pretty 'dorable." Snatching the small carrier, he studied it briefly before discarding the garbage within, including various fliers, programs, sticks of tasteless treats, and hair gel. Filling the tote back out, the passenger was retrieved from his pocket, which only snugly managed to emerge. "Good news, squish pot, ya got yerself a home now." Tumbling the enlarged grub into the case, it promptly tried to consume the material inside before orienting itself right side up. "Eh, what do I care?" he aimlessly questioned as he zipped it back up. "It ain't mine."
