Chapter 8: Ameba
Ameba hadn’t been at the horrible scene at the Wastelands. But he’d heard enough. And he wasn’t going to let itblobboy get away with it.
“Alright, gang, let’s git him!” Ameba shouted to his gang as soon as a shuddering Zane671 finished explaining the course of events.
Ameba’s gang consisted of plak, Im_a_merchant, MajesticOne, Monochrome, and Zane671. Technically, it wasn’t “Ameba’s gang.” It was a democracy, and Ameba happened to be the leader for that month.
The gang (gang being an overused word) usually spent their days playing pranks on others and taking up space in GVG Woodlands. But when times of evil came, the gang did everything they did to stop them, and almost all the time, they succeeded.
Almost all the time. Ameba still remembered the death of Saruman107, when Ameba accidentally killed him. All it took was one thunder attack, and…
Ameba had stopped using thunder after that event.
The gang waited, grim and determined, at the Wastelands Entrance, where they found the dead bodies of JvonT and Naruto, both without heads.
Ameba studied the ground and found the tracks of...someone. This was hopeless. Itblobboy could simply not be tracked down.
Unless, of course, he came to you.
Ameba grit his teeth, bought bullhorn, and said to his fellow gang members, “Well, guys, I’m gonna have to use myself as bait. You guys hide and ambush him, alright?”
The gang was about to complain, but it was too late. Ameba had released the bullhorn.
“Itblobboy, we know you’re a murderer. My gang challenges you to a duel. Chicken? Come to Wastelands and we’ll find out if you’re one or not.”
The gang knew that there was no chance of saving Ameba. They blended into the background, hiding in their spots for the ambush.
The suspense was killing him. Ameba almost closed his eyes so that they were little slits, observing everything that was happening.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Ameba whirled around to the sound. He recognized that sound...it was the sound of someone dashing.
“Plak, was that you?”
No answer.
“Guys, where are you?”
Silence.
Ameba held out his staff in front of him. He had practiced Kumdo back in his detective days, and knew how to handle himself. And yet...he felt oddly endangered. Like a dodo in poaching season.
“You’re dead.”
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