What had happened, when had it all gone so horribly wrong. One minute everything was peachy, the next he was wearing a flaming furry suit covered in the blood of his dear old friend big poppa Jared. He knew what was coming, of course he did. It was only logical. Two places like this, both using gas stoves and set on fire with no one to turn that gas off. It wouldn't take long now, not long at all. Soon the world was going to burn down around him and he would be dragged to the depths of hell where he belonged, the perfect place to repent for his sins. Over the smell of burning fur and vomit he spoke, arms spread wide, addressing anyone who would dare listen. "Death approaches! We are all mortal again! Now we can say 'yes' to death, but never again 'no'. Now, we must make our farewells: to each other, to the sun and moon, trees and sky, earth and rock, the landscape of our long waking-dream." As the words left his choked mouth the ground erupted around him, a spew of flame and stone firing in every direction, sending the poor furry onto his front. His hand over the back of his head while the rest of his body curled up, he could hear the series of smacks around him as bricks fell back to the earth, reclaimed by gravity. It burned to be here, it burned so god damn bad.

The pizza shop went up in a beautiful and stunning blaze of glory. A stunning display of torrential firw, the amber red flames danced like so many....dancer people. The other mascot raised his tiger hands in the air and shouted "they're grrrreeeeaaat!" or atleast he should have. Instead he ran off at the mouth about some nonsense dealing with death and stuff about the elements. Vicktur wasnt exactly paying attention when the shock finally hit him like a ton of bricks; Charlie was dead and he wasnt going to get paid now! What in the actual literal fuck!? Fucking Charlie! Vicktur knew he was a bit of a depressed guy, seeing as he saved him from overdosing several times - mostly so he could get paid. But a straight up pistol assisted suicide? Selfish prick, he shouldve suicide bombed the Marine base. Or atleast cause some damage to the established order. But no, he killed himself in the most self centered way possible. What the hell was Vicktur supposed to do now? He ran up to the mans corpse and fished through his pockets. Finding his wallet he took whatever cash he had left and threw everything else into the burning building. Turning one laat time he saw the other mascot laying on his stomach after the other building blew up. He would be fine physically, but the scars from today would haunt him for the rest of his life. Without an ounce of regret Vicktur left the scene with the last few beli in Charlie's pocket.

[Left]

The world was collapsing around him, the walls of wood and creations of grandure nothing in the path of the latent heat of mans creation. There was little to do now except to move aside, waiting for it to be over. As far as the world was concerned the building was already gone, it was only a matter of time before reality caught up to the desires of the cosmos. He pushed himself to his feet, stumbling in the hot soot around him, the heat rising from all directions suffocating him in its dangerous embrace. Stumbling forward he pushed through the fire, feeling his skin scream in angst in response. "Loud was the bird-rocked sky, and all the clouds were bales torn open by looting, and white, in spite of the fire. By the smoking sea, where Christ walked, I asked, why should a man wax tears, when his wooden world fails?" Perhaps this wasn't the best time for reciting poetry, however. A fact that was enforced as she felt a patch of hair fall off his suit. Pulling out of the suit, he stepped out free from burns, only with a thick shell of cold sweat going down his back, chilling him to his core as he realized just what had gone down. He would just blame it on the other mascot, after all, he was the one who had ran off. Why would you run if you were innocent? It was simply an illogical response to take.