Come in, Team Prehistoria!

Chapter Six ~ Three, Two, One...

The heathlands were at their usual, hellish heat and the harsh gale that blew across the barren plains was off-puttingly warm. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but the blood-red wasteland. It was flat enough to watch your dog run away for four days, with the only disturbances being the occasional dried up, thorny shrub that had been snapped from its dead roots and being rolled across the vast emptiness like tumbleweed. Far in the distance, the silhouettes of distant mountains the size of a fingernail and the colour of melted lipstick could barely be seen through the thick, choking heat haze.

There were dust devils too, albeit weaker. Though, they posed no real threat to the cluster of creepypastas, save for the smaller children, who were forced to hold onto an older friend or sibling to keep their footing. The winds threatened to — quite literally — pull the group apart, with dust devils trying desperately to suck anything and anyone into them, and the powerful summer winds ripping up dead grasses.

Sticking close to one another, the creepypastas huddled together like penguins. Ensuring the smaller creepypastas could keep their feet on the ground, and trying — and failing — to keep the dust from the relentless windstorms out of their eyes. There appeared to be no order to their gathering. Just one group standing before two masters. To the killers who had gone to school, it was reminiscent of a meeting in gym class. A group of children crowding around one or two adults. Similar, but unlike schooling there was method to the madness.

Much like in a body of students, there was a slight, but oh-so noticeable line dividing the group in half. But unlike with students, this wasn't a simple girl/boy or athletic/non-athletic split. No, this split was much more significant.

The two teams.

On one side, the group nicknamed Team Present. The equivalent of mission control, this was the side staying behind. This group appeared smaller, as two of it's members stood at the front: Zalgo and Slenderman. Giving a short but sweet pep talk before the inevitable chaos.

With their members including BEN Drowned, Hoodie, Clockwork, Sally, Lazari, and Eyeless Jack, they were more than happy with staying behind. Sure, it would be the experience of a lifetime to go with, but it could also be the last experience of their lifetimes. Additionally, their specialized skills were needed back at home base. With everything from Ben as their communicator to Clockwork ensuring the group's safety when they rendezvoused at unusual, and often dangerous places, everyone had a role.

Their mission: the relaying of intel and the giving of orders. In their timeline, they must link runes to each pasta being sent back in time, and, in turn, give orders on where and when the corresponding runes must be set up in the other timeline.

A safer team. A vital team.

Team Present.

Standing opposite the mission control group was the run-and-gun group. Aptly nicknamed Team Prehistoria, they were the team being sent back in time. Why? They may never know, but they would not question their orders.

Their members were Team Present's opposites. With its members consisting of Jeff the Killer, Masky, Laughing Jack, Ticci Toby, Dark Link, Shadowlurker, Stripes, and even Smile.Dog. Team Prehistoria was the front lines, the group that would charge in, guns a-blazing. The group that had to do all the wilderness survival and fighting off larger-than-life monsters from the past.

A dangerous team. A fun team.

Team Prehistoria.

The stage was set. The performers in costume. The lighting of the rising sun was set just right.

"Are you ready?"

"Heck yes!"

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

"HECK YES!"

Slender chuckled, seeing Zalgo try to hype up the creepypastas.

"ARE YOU READY?"

"HECK YES!"

Well, at least it was working.

"Counting down from...

"Ten,

"Nine,

"Eight,

"Seven,

"Six,

"Five,

"Four,

"THREE,

"TWO,

"ONE!"