#TeamWattPunk - Part Three: Mad, Bad and Writing for Wattpad - @OutrageousOllo

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The next few hours were some of the most painful ever experienced by MadMikeMarsbergen. Lord WattPad obviously wasn't going to let him die quickly, obviously wanted to savour killing the biggest threat he'd ever faced. Slowly but surely.

It started with being stripped nude and hosed with ice-cold water in a room where the air conditioner was set to a chilly 5°C. Next came the pointy shoots of bamboo being slid beneath his toe- and fingernails. He'd screamed so loud and so long his voice turned hoarse, could taste the blood in the back of his throat. After being forced to walk and pick up random objects from the floor for ten minutes straight, the shoots were removed, vinegar was poured into his wounds, salt was packed in after, and then the nails were ripped off with a rusty pair of pliers.

MadMikeMarsbergen dissociated from reality sometime after the bamboo shoots. Instead of living there in the torture room, his mind was lost somewhere back in his past.


Two Years Ago

"Rikey, row ruch rurther?" asks Renneth Ree, Mike's Asian best friend.

They're crossing the harsh tundra in the dead of winter and the icy winds make it feel as though they're being stabbed in the face with thousands of little icicles.

Mike holds a tracking device in his outstretched hand. A red dot—their position—is surrounded by multiple concentric circles and a green blip appears in the top-left corner of the screen. "I see it, Renneth!" he shouts excitedly. "One hundred metres thataway!" He points and the pair race off together, their tired muscles rejuvenated by their eagerness to find the laptop.

"Says it should be right under us," Mike says. "Though this blip measures a three-foot area, so we'll have to dig around." He starts booting around snow and Renneth does the same.

Minutes later.

"Ri round rit!" Renneth, hands red and turning blue from frostbite, pulls a laptop from a mound of snow. With stiff joints, he fumbles it a little before handing it to Mike.

"Get some gloves on those hands, Renneth. Don't want to lose them, man. Nobody else has the magic fingers to perform heavenly colonoscopies like you." Mike peels away the protective case and tosses it aside.

"Rhink rit'll rork, Rikey?"

"It might be our only hope of taking out Lord WattPad," Mike replies. "I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner. This laptop had some strange bug or virus, or something. When I got out of CrazyTown, I started using it again and whatever I wrote became real. You know how weird my stories can get, Renneth. My abominations roamed the world, and they tried to kill me and those I loved. They chased me across the whole world. Before I was chased into hiding, I was able to knock Lord WattPad off the hierarchical totem pole for a bit. Of course, he somehow managed to undo what I'd written... So I'm not sure if this thing still works..."

"Rhy rar rou relling re rhis ragain, Rikey?"

"It's more for the benefit of those who are just joining our ongoing adventures, Renneth."

"Re're roing roo re rest riends rorever, Rikey!"

Mike laughs. "Indeed we are, Renneth. Best buddies for life. Nothing will turn us against each other. And nobody will ever break us apart."

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