Mr Plant and The Scouts - Alternate Ending.

You're here! Finally

It had been a long seven days since Argos had gone missing, and a long seven days of Mr Plant turning the entire void upside down to find him.

Argos and The Scouts had gone to sell cookies door to door and never returned, no one had a clue where they could have gone and no one knew how far they had gotten when they disappeared, for all Mr Plant knew, they could have been voids away.

The plant monster had never been more terrified in his life, he hadn't slept the entire week, often finding himself waking up at randomized periods of the day, unsure when exactly he'd passed out in the first place. His hands were covered in scratches and bruises, only recently being covered by loose bandages after a particularly squeamish human he'd been prodding for information nearly fainted from the sight of his open wounds. It was rare that he'd end up making himself bleed from his stress induced habit of scratching and wringing his hands, but over this past week, it had become a repetitive ritual. The mind had a way of wondering, and Mr Plant could do nothing to stop his worry, to stop the fear of where his boyfriend was, what happened to him. If he's still...

All he could do to keep himself preoccupied and sane was to continue his search, going from void to void, asking around, begging the VPD for any updates, and marking off dead ends.

Mr Plant returned to his void for a brief moment to mark off the voids he was able to investigate, his deteriorating health becoming more and more obvious as the days continued on. His petals had begun drying, threatening to wilt off his head from lack of water, his vines began to feel hard and dense in places, it had even become apparent in the way he walked, dizziness and fatigue fogging his gross motor skills. But it didn't matter, his body would have to wait, he'd power on through pure will and focus. Even if he had to tear apart the entirety of the void and the abyss, he'd find Argos. And kill him for causing him so much worry.

Walking over to his designated check off wall, he decided to briefly review the voids he'd already investigated, glossing over the numbers across the wall. Void 12, void 256, void 1734, 46, 890... The more he read over, the more his eyes struggled to stay adjusted to the written numbers, a dizzying headache he just couldn't get to go away made his vision blurred and confused. Drawing closer to the wall, he pressed his hand against it, not just to stabilize himself, but to get a better look at his writing to properly identify what he was seeing.

As he stared, he realized it wasn't his vision betraying him at all, Ineligible scribbles followed the previously written voids, growing worse and worse as they began scrawling together. How had not realized he'd been doing that? How long had it been since he'd truly even looked over this wall?

His eyes stared unblinking, turning their attention to his hands, black bloody splotches just barely contained within the lazily applied coverings, his fingers dried and worn, his useless appendages mocking his determination. Any emotions drew a blank, the implications of losing all that progress delaying the inevitable wear down on the already mentally drained plant's psyche, he'd already drawn every tear and let out his anger on nearly everything he owned, he had very little left to give.

Obtrusively loud ringing erupted from his telephone, aggressively ceasing his spiral. His head snapped sharply to it, debating whether or not answering was worth it, it often felt like a gamble answering his phone, it was a 50/50 shot of hearing something helpful, or something to cause unending annoyance. As the phone continued to toll, he begrudgingly made his way over to the receiver, his dazed state made the world feel too fast for his mind to keep up with. Snatching it and placing it beside his petals, his hand tight around the handle of the phone, ready to slam it back down if he heard anything that didn't require his patience.

On the other end, a man began to speak, "Hello? Is this a.. er.. Mr Plant?",

The man's voice on the other end had a notably attested tone to it, despite them clearly trying to put on a more friendly demeanor. The type of voice that you'd hear from one in an authoritative position, the type of voice Mr Plant had been forced to listen to over and over again the past week, telling him there was nothing new, nothing more that they could do, nothing that he could do. He couldn't help but pipe up a bit, a small sparkle of hope forcing him straight.