(the boys) the triangle jerk challenge

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Through the doorway they follow a long, dark hallway that seems either half-built or half-falling apart, to a set of stairs, down around a corner, down another hall, and down another set of stairs, to a low-ceilinged room where a group of men, all dressed in rough brown clothing, are sitting in a circle, apparently in the midst of a meeting. They all look up in unison to see the group entering and do not seem super psyched about being interrupted.

"Beastro! I have some possible new recruits," H8bunni announces with a flourish.

"Wait what?" the boys say.

One of the men (Beastro? Apparently? There's literally nothing to distinguish him from any of the the other men, they are all very plain.) stands. "Who are they? What show are they from?"

"They won't tell me!"

"We're not from any show," the boy with the eyes says.

Beastro points his screen at the boys, examines the results, and then takes a quick, fearful, step back. "Who or what the f*ck are you?"

"I know right?" H8bunni says. "Spoooky. But they seem real."

"I told you," the boy with the eyes says. "We're not from a show, we're just people."

"Yeah you hear that a lot here," Beastro says. "H8bunni why are you bringing them here?"

"They need help. They're hungry. They need screens."

This freaks Beastro out even more. "They don't have screens?"

"They do but they suck and don't work, wait until you see them, I almost hurled."

"So. They require our help." This pleases Beastro greatly. "And supposing we can help you, and supposing we are willing to, what do you have to offer us in return?"

The boy with the hair and the boy with the eyes scratch their heads and look at each other like: I have no idea.

The boy with the butt pulls a handgun from his waistband and holds it up in the air. "This!"

The boy with the hair and the boy with eyes look at each other like: *Oh f*ck.

Beastro stares blankly at the gun. "I have no idea what that is."

"It's a gun," the boy with the butt says.

Beastro shrugs.

"It's a weapon? It shoots?"

Beastro shrugs. "Shoots, like t-shirts? Or glitter?"

"No you shoot people."

"How do you fit people in there?"

"No the gun has bullets, like, projectiles, inside of it, which can be shot in the direction of a person, thus killing them."

The boy with eyes groans, like Don't tell them that.

"What? We have nothing else of value here," the boy with the butt says.

Beastro shrugs. "Why would you need to kill people, everyone's already capable of doing that themselves."

The boy with the butt does not have a response to this.

"I feel like I recognize this room," the boy with the hair says, looking around. "Definitely familiar."

"Impossible," Beastro says. "We are Conspirasan, and our ways are secretive and insular. It is frankly outrageous that H8bunni brought outsiders here unbidden and it is unlikely we will allow you to leave."

"Oh right, Conspirasan, that's it," the boy with the hair says, nodding and smiling.

"Well this is quite a sticky situation. You boys demand something from us, but as far as I can see have absolutely nothing to offer us in return. No brand associations, no followers, no unique value-adds, no real sense of synergistic potential. There can be no economic exchange, and yet you enter our hallowed sanctum, uninvited and with hands outstretched."

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