"Curses!" Golf Ball growled and stomped, making the table shake. Tennis Ball jumped.
"GB? Are you okay?" He asked. Golf Ball laid her head on the desk and groaned. Around her were several measuring tools, as well as some beakers of fluids. Just to her side was the mysterious substance, taunting her with its mysteries.
"I can't find a good enough depressant to cancel out the...whatever this is!" Golf Ball glared at the petri dish. "...Substance X. That's what I'm calling it now," She decided, capping the dish and grumbling. "Basic name, but it gets the job done," Tennis Ball gave her a concerned look, but turned back to Gaty, who laid still as the grave on the table.
He winced as he stared at the gaping hole in her chest. He could rationalize Book being able to tear off Pencil's head, but Gaty? Gaty was made of much stronger metals and wood, and yet here she lay, her own leg being ripped off of her and stabbed through her chest. The thought alone was disturbing.
"Do you think Substance X causes an increase in strength?" Tennis Ball asked, his voice laced with worry. Golf Ball came over to his side and looked over Gaty. The stump of her leg was nothing more than splintered wood and bent metal. She nodded.
"Surely, I can't imagine Book would normally be able to perform such a feat, angry or otherwise..." Golf Ball trailed off. "Assuming she's the one who did this, of course,"
A creak from the next room caught their attention. Golf Ball looked to the door, her brow lowering over her glasses.
"Hm, I wonder who that is..." She said. As she walked over to the door, a sudden jolt of hesitation struck her. She blinked. "...An emotional response," She uttered.
"You're getting emotional?" Tennis Ball asked. He looked up at the door, now hearing the sound of shuffling steps. He felt the same tug. The steps outside were...unsure. Instinctively, he grabbed a chair and jammed it under the door.
"Tennis ball! What are you—"
"Ssh! We need to stay quiet," Tennis Ball whispered. Golf Ball looked at him.
"Why? What could possibly be out there that's so—"
"It's her."
"...Her?" Golf Ball cocked her head. Tennis Ball wasn't normally so...impulsive. Tennis Ball didn't answer, only glancing at the door behind them.
"If she attacks, I want you to run,"
"Tennis Ball, who are you—Ugh, nevermind. Logically speaking, shouldn't I stay? I can handle much more of a beating," Tennis Ball looked down at Golf Ball with a sudden tenderness that made her heart flip for a moment.
"I...I don't think I could live with myself if you got hurt," He said. He winced as a crash sounded beyond the door. "Down! Get down!" He commanded and ducked behind the table. Golf ball, still confused, ducked under her desk.
The door slammed, shaking in its frame as the chair under it slipped, crashing to the floor. Golf Ball jumped, pressing herself further under the desk and against the wall. Another bang and the chair scooted, creeping the door open a crack. A loud yell sounded, and with another slam, the door flew open and a figure stumbled through. Golf Ball held the urge to gasp as she stared up at the figure now standing in the lab.
Book stood with her back turned to Golf Ball. Her leg, the one they had fixed, bent under her weight, making her limp as she stumbled across the tile floor. Her hair was a tangled mess of blues and greens, and her vest was completely gone. Scraps of paper mache skin hung from her body loosely, exposing layers of muddled newspaper and dull skin-colored scraps. She was covered in mud and remnants of bile, and her skin was riddled with scratches and splinters.
The splinters...
Golf Ball bit her lip, keeping herself from breathing too hard. Book began to shuffle around the room, the rhythm of drag, clack, drag, clack filling the air. She turned to look at the table, and Golf Ball caught a glimpse of her face. Pinprick eyes were accented by deep eye bags, and it seemed as if there were even splinters stuck in her teeth, which had traces of graphite on their edges. She looked down at Gaty's body.
"Oh dear...whatever happened to you?" She asked. Her voice was a horse mockery of what she used to sound like, a voice that Golf Ball used to think was annoying but now wanted to hear over anything else. Well, other than... "Tennis Ball will get you fixed up nice and well, dear, don't you worry." Book cooed and leaned in, rubbing her head against Gaty's. Suddenly, her voice shifted, becoming darker. "Pencil will suffer for what she must have done to you...I'll make sure of it," A chill went down Golf Ball's spine.
"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Tennis Ball leaped up from behind the table and threw a freeze syringe. Book jolted and flinched, but the syringe zipped past her and stuck into the wall. From the syringe, the wall began to frost over, and Tennis Ball's expression dropped from determined to fearful. They stood, frozen as if the syringe had actually worked. Golf Ball held her breath, noticing how sweat was starting to drip down Tennis Ball's face. They were frozen for what felt like hours when Book's face morphed from shock to a snarl.
"You..." She growled. She climbed over the table as Tennis Ball scampered back into the wall. She grabbed Gaty's leg. "Pardon me, Gaty dear, but I need this for a moment," Book brandished the leg as she stood, towering over Tennis Ball and wielding the leg like a bat.
"P-Please, Book, don't do this," Tennis ball stuttered, shaking. Tears pricked his eyes.
"Can it, you bitch," Book's nostrils flared, her gums bared with her teeth. "I've put up with enough from you! Years of you mocking me and tormenting me, and you think you can get away with just one death?" She paused, her eyes boring into Tennis Ball. He sank to the floor, shaking and on the verge of breaking down. "Answer me!" With a mighty swing, Book swung the leg at his face, meeting him with a crack! His glasses flew off his face as he hit the ground, wincing from the strike. Shards of Gaty's leg stuck into his cheek.
"N-No! No! I d-don't think that!" Tennis Ball whimpered as Book stomped towards him, the leg dangling at an unnatural angle in her arms. "B-B-Book, please! You're having a psychotic episode! I'm not—" Another crack filled the air, and he hit the ground, now laying flat. His nose appeared to be broken. His eyes were staring to roll back in his head, looking glazed and out of focus.
"I know damn well who you are, Pencil. Why else do you think I'm having a breakdown?" Book's voice was a low growl. Golf Ball looked to her side. A scalpel, one she had accidentally dropped earlier that day... "You brought this upon yourself, idiot! But no, you can't be held responsible for anything, can you?" Book brought the leg down again, slamming it into her victim. "It's always about you!" Another slam and Golf Ball grabbed her scalpel. Book continued to beat Tennis Ball with the leg, slamming faster and faster, harder and harder, all while her voice raised to a shrill scream. "You pushed everyone out of your way for your happiness! Bubble, Ruby, Icy, me! I did everything for you, and all I got was mockery! Do you think that's fair!?" She stared down at the beaten body under her. Tennis Ball was unable to respond, either knocked out or too stunned to respond. His breath was shaky and shallow.
"ANSWER ME, YOU BITCH!" Book's screech rattled off the walls as she bashed the leg over his head over and over. She continued to scream and lay into her victim, trapped in her own misery as tears streamed down her face. Tennis Ball's features became unrecognizable, a mess of splinters, fuzz, flesh, and empty space as she caved his skull in. Book's enraged fury became a mournful wail, finally stopping her assault to curl into a ball and cry, clutching the leg close to her. She didn't even notice how Golf Ball retreated from under her desk, nor how there was someone standing just behind her.
Something sharp slid into her back and cut down. Book's eyes widened, and she whirled around, slapping whoever was behind her. The person yelped and stumbled to the ground, and the scalpel fell from her hands, clattering against the floor. Book felt her back to find a long hold down her spine, deep enough to cut, not enough to sever. She stared at the person behind her, wielding her leg, now splintered and bruised. Already, the figure was reaching for the scalpel as they came into focus. Gray hair and spotty skin, only to morph into peachy flesh and bright orange clothes. Book gasped and swung the leg. The girl gasped, the air knocked out of her as she tumbled into the left wall.
"H-How did you come back?" Book asked through shuddering breaths. In front of her, Pencil laid against the wall, staring up at her with rage in her eyes. She slid up the wall, not bothering to use her arms. A surge of energy shot through Book, and she charged. A splintering crash filled the air as Pencil's face was bashed with the leg. The calf came loose, sending it across the room and leaving Book with only a thigh. Pencil reeled, but only continued to stare at Book.
"What are you talking about!?" She spat back. She tried to push past Book, but Book kicked her back into the wall. Pencil's head made a sickening thump against the wall, but only left a dent where she had hit. For a moment, her image flickered, dulling a shrinking before maintaining stability. Book backed away, shaking her head.
"No, no, no no no!" She clutched her head and yanked her hair, pulling a clump loose from the tangle. "You're...You're playing with me! You're messing with me!" Book's foot met with something. She looked down to see the scalpel. Quickly, she ducked down and grabbed it. Something slammed into her stomach as she got back up, and she slammed against the wall, gasping for air. Pencil stood over her, panting and fuming. Her eyes were glassy...
"Stay down!" She commanded. Book's blood boiled.
"Oh, I'll stay down alright, I'll stay down and take you with me!" Book screamed as she lunged at Pencil and slashed her face. She reeled back, but before she could do anything, Book pinned her to the floor. The tile under them cracked, and no matter how much Pencil thrashed, she couldn't escape. She looked up at Book, eyes filling with terror as she brandished the scalpel and stabbed it into her throat. Her screams became pitiful wheezes for air, but Book wasn't done. She pulled back to stab again but found the blade of the scalpel had bent beyond repair. "When did you become so tough?" Book asked. She tossed the scalpel over her shoulder and grabbed Pencil by the hair. "Whatever, it's much more satisfying to mash your stupid head in," She growled. Pencil opened her mouth to beg, to scream, to do anything but was cut short by Book ramming her head back into the tile repeatedly. Over and over, Book bashed her head in, but she refused to give, kicking and writhing. Oddly enough, she wasn't using her hands at all...
"Die! Die! Just die already!" Book's body trembled with fury as she slammed Pencil down over and over again. Finally, a final crack rang out, and Pencil's head snapped in two under her. Book panted, waiting to see if she would come back.
Silence. All except for the damn lights. Book looked up, breath heaving, and glared.
"Golf Ball really needs to get some more suitable lights."