Kristoffer Pauly
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MADMAN APOCALYPSE - Book 3 - Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2025-04-23 15:00:00 +0000 UTC-Previous chapter-
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This chapter ended up very unhinged. Brace yourselves.
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Chapter 7
Neither Bee nor I were in a hurry to get to the fight taking place below in the metro station, so we just let the escalator slowly bring us down.
“Who do you think are fighting?” Bee asked.
“Probably two rival gangs or something,” I replied.
“It just seems like a weird place to fight over,” she said. “There’s no food here and it would be hard to sleep in the station because of all the noise from the trains. Though I guess they do have bathrooms.”
I shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“I guess not.”
We finally reached the bottom of the escalator, and I saw a familiar sight. Ticket barriers blocked the entrance and next to them was the ticket machine I’d used to board the World Boss. Two of the barriers had been meticulously destroyed to keep them open while the rest functioned like normal.
I led the way as we went into the station itself. Bee readied the crossbow in her arms as the sounds of fighting got closer.
When we stepped out onto the platform, we were met with an all-out brawl. Men and women were desperately punching each other or swinging pipes and machetes like lunatics. On the tiled floor lay several bleeding and injured people and off near the back wall were a clump of pacifists just watching the chaos. All told, there were over fifty people here and it was hard to tell who was on whose team.
The metro train, which was thankfully not a monster, was parked in the only track. Looking through the windows I noticed how each carriage had been rebuilt into something like a home, with simple walls and furniture taking up the space within. Additionally, the middle carriage, where the fighting was thickest, looked to be filled to the brim with food, water, and other necessities.
“It’s like they’ve all gone mad,” Bee commented. Then she glanced at me. “No offense.”
Panda laughed.
“They’re not mad. They’re fighting over food,” he explained, also having noticed the middle carriage.
“I think I know a way to stop them,” I said.
Just as some of the nearby people noticed us, I pointed at the middle of the platform and shouted, “.unicorn( )!”
“I don’t think that’ll wor—” Panda started to say, just as a rainbow-edged portal appeared.
Music filled the underground station. It was some kind of pop song.
“Oh, I love this song!” Bee exclaimed.
The fighting ground to a halt as people noticed the pounding music coming from the rainbow portal.
Then an upright unicorn in a black suit with satin gloves on the hooves of its ‘arms’ and sunglasses on its head slid out from the portal. He looked around for a moment and then started dancing slowly, the tap of his hooved feet perfectly matching the beat. A stage mic was coiled around his head to his long mouth, and he started singing.
“Did he just say ‘butter’?” I asked in confusion.
More unicorns in the same ridiculous outfits slid out of the portal and within moments there were seven of them, all dancing in perfect synchronicity. Bee started imitating their moves and it was clear she already knew the choreography.
The fighting completely stopped while the unicorn boy band performed their dance routine and lip-synced to the music.
“They’re not lip-syncing,” Panda said.
“They are,” I insisted.
“Are what?” Bee asked, still dancing.
“Lip-syncing.”
“It doesn’t matter if they are,” she replied. “Just enjoy the music.”
We watched the performance for what felt like ages.
At some point the people on the platform even started clapping along to the beat, including those who were injured.
When the song finally ended, the unicorns sauntered back through the portal which zipped shut behind them and vanished.
The music was replaced by roaring cheers and whooping.
“Music really brings people together,” Panda said with a blissful sigh.
“I think I preferred when they were all fighting,” I replied.
“You better not make them start fighting again,” Panda told me, a warning in his voice.
“Fine,” I muttered.
I raised my voice and addressed the crowd.
“Everyone! No more fucking fighting or I’ll beat the shit out of you. Got it? Also, when is the train returning to Madeville’s station?”
All eyes fell on me and a few people laughed at my outfit. I didn’t care and just strode towards the closest carriage.
“Did you create that performance?” a woman yelled.
“I love that song!” another squealed. “That was so much fun!”
“Has anyone seen my fingers?” screamed a man who just returned to the realization that he was seriously injured.
“Yes, I summoned those unicorns,” I yelled back, unsure who in the crowd had asked the question.
“The train leaves in 2 minutes,” responded a man close to me. “If you help us defend the storage wagon, then you can ride along for free.”
I had to look down to lock eyes with him. He was more than a head shorter than me and had a large bald spot in the middle of his brown mane of hair, giving him a bizarre hairstyle. His face was covered in a scraggly beard and his body was absolutely yolked like he was some steroid-induced bodybuilder midget.
“You can’t call them that,” Panda corrected me. “They’re called little people.”
“Listen, pal,” I told the guy. “We’re getting on no matter what.”
Bee nodded.
“Everyone has to contribute if they want a ride on the survivor express,” the guy told me.
I looked around and spread out my arms, gesturing at the people. “I just stopped the fighting, didn’t I? Also, aren’t there two trains?”
“Our train is the good one,” he said.
Before I could reply, the guy’s appraisal hit me out of nowhere.
---
[Appraisal x ]
Level ?? — ‘John Ritter’ — Player?
[Dave! He’s doing it again!]
[What do you mean ‘Play along with it’!?]
*Sigh*
Fine!
This is John Ritter. He’s a dwarf. The end.
[You can’t be serious!]
[You know what, Dave? I’m glad your wife fucking left you!]
[No! Don’t call HR!]
[Alright! I’ll do it properly!]
Since when did our HR apartment even have people in it who gave a shit? I thought they were just meant to shred all the mail they received. What happened to the guy who operates the shredder??
Anyway…
John Ritter started out life wanting to become an actor, although he had to change his name since it was already taken by someone famous. He ended up settling on ‘Dick Ritter’, but most people just call him Richard, which is really confusing.
Since he was born with dwarfism, he was really limited to what roles he could get as an actor. After failing to land a role as Dopey in a musical of Snow White for being ‘too tall’, he had a crisis of identity and eventually found new purpose in the world of bodybuilding.
Thanks to copious amounts of anabolic steroids, he has developed male pattern baldness, but only in the middle of his scalp which gave him the weird monk crown you’re seeing. Maybe because of his commanding stage presence or freakish strength, he ended up becoming the leader of a group of survivors, and they made a base out of one of the two metro trains traveling between Madeville and Castleburg.
That decision may come back to haunt him and his crew.
He likes the balloon on your hand, because he’s a ‘looner’.
Yeah, this guy has all sorts of quirks.
Basically, don’t let him touch your balloon, it’ll get weird.
---
“If you let us onto the train, John, then I’ll let you touch my gauntlet,” I told him.
“What the fuck, Gambit!” Panda exclaimed. “Don’t let this guy abuse Brock!”
My gauntlet squeaked insistently.
John bit his lower lip and nodded. “Get on.”
Then he turned to the rest of the crowd and yelled, “Anyone who wants to go to Madeville, get on board! This guy here just bought you all a free ticket. But if any of you try to touch the storage carriage, I’ll personally beat the shit out of you!”
“What just happened?” Bee asked as we crammed into the nearby carriage.
“It’s too complicated to explain,” I told her. “But basically, he really likes balloons.”
“Bet you this shit is about to get fucking weird,” Panda commented.
John, aka Richard, aka Dick Ritter, stood in front of the middle carriage with a few other guys who tried to look intimidating. Everyone except a few people, who’d clearly just been aiming for the food supply, packed into the rest of the carriages.
Someone from the pacifist group at the back pushed through the crowd to get into the same carriage as us.
“How did you do that thing with the unicorns?” he asked.
I looked at his dirty-blonde hair, green-blue eyes, pudgy cheeks, and black hoodie with cargo pants.
Panda bapped my head eagerly. “Gambit! Look, it’s—!”
“Chris!” I exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for you!”
He looked back at me, slightly confused. “Have we met before?”
“Sort of,” I told him.
“Tell him you know where James is,” Panda urged.
“I know where your brother is,” I said.
“Really?” Chris asked. He looked at Bee and the crossbow she was still holding.
“He’s in the Sweet Dreams store near the Madeville metro station,” I told him.
“Why would he be there? I thought he’d vanished along with all the other children.”
I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Trust me on this.”
With a garbled staticky announcement over the speakers, the metro train started to close its doors. A few people hurried inside the carriages that still had space at the last second. Then the vehicle gently pulled out of the platform and picked up speed.
We found a seat on some unoccupied benches, sitting opposite from a bench that’d been turned into an honest-to-God barbecue smoker and grill.
A woman wearing what looked like two pillowcases sown into the shape of a dress came over to us with a tray of plastic cups sloshing with raspberry juice.
“I really liked the performance,” she told me. “It’s been a while since any of us had a chance to smile and enjoy ourselves. Thanks for that.”
I just nodded and accepted a cup. Bee and Chris grabbed one each as well, and the woman continued down through the carriage with the drinks while waving back at us.
“Should we be worried that no one questioned how you did that?” Bee remarked.
“How did you do it, actually?” Chris asked.
Before I could reply, John came over to us. He was red in the face and sweating slightly.
“So, about our deal. Come with me to my office.”
Brock started to squeak like crazy.
“Oi, ya fakkin cunt, don’t ya touch me! I do not consent to this!!” he shouted, his voice breaking through at last.
Panda and I shared a look.
“I did promise him,” I said, staring down at the balloon gauntlet.
John glanced to my friends for guidance, but they were equally stumped. To them it probably seemed as if I was moving my hand around to make the gauntlet squeak while pretending it was talking to me.
“Gamby! Please!! This man’s sick! I bet he sleeps on a waterbed and wears latex underwear! He’s gonna pop me! That’s what sickos like this do! Don’t let him pop me!!”
“No one’s going to pop you, Brock,” I said.
Panda sighed. “Hold on, I think I know how to fix this without you having to punch-decapitate poor old balloon-freak John here.”
The plushie scrunched up and curled in on himself as though he was straining on the toilet. Then with a little ding a screen appeared in front of my face.
Panda let out a satisfied sigh.
---
[Benefactor Gift]
This is a gifted skill from your Benefactor.
Huh, that actually worked.
Use this on John, so Brock doesn’t have his innocence defiled.
Pandamonium
Gift: ‘Match.maker( )’ ability
---
[‘Match.maker( )’ x ]
Ability
[Dave! He’s doing it again!]
[Where’s the Glitch Hunter team I asked for?]
[What do you mean they can’t find him?]
Listen, I don’t know how you’re doing this or how you got this Skill, but I will get to the bottom of this!
Lock someone in a delusion of their wildest fantasies for 10 minutes.
Charge: 1/1
---
I blinked. “Wow, I didn’t know you could do that, Panda.”
Everyone around me seemed extremely confused. Although it hadn’t stopped John from reaching out to touch the balloon gauntlet on my hand.
“Use it before it’s too late!” Panda exclaimed.
“Save meee!!” Brock squealed.
I looked at John and said, “Match.maker( ).”
He immediately stopped moving, his arms falling down by his sides. His eyes were replaced with small screens showing TV static, and he started grinning while drool ran down his cheek. As I watched, a balloon animal appeared within the static of his eyes, before vanishing just as suddenly as it appeared.
I stood up and lifted John down onto the bench where he slumped back as his mind was fed his wildest fantasies.
“Come on,” I told Chris and Bee. “You probably don’t want to watch what happens next, if this thing works how I think it does.”
They both got up and looked at John with grossed-out expressions on their faces.
“What the hell was that?” Chris asked as we moved down the carriage and through the door to the next one.
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied.
Behind us, John started making disturbing animal noises.
“Thank yiz!!” Brock exclaimed. “Though not certain rewarding mister freako was the right move…”
“I had to improvise,” Panda told him. “It was the only thing I could think of in a pinch.”
“That raises some uncomfortable questions,” Brock replied.
I nodded. “I should’ve just knocked his head off, it would’ve been easier and faster.”
Other people came through the door from the carriage, obviously unsettled by what was happening inside. Every time the sliding door opened, John’s noises echoed through the carriage.
I looked at Chris, who had a horrified expression on his face. “So, anyway,” I started, “I can basically do magic. It’s kind of a long story though, so listen closely.”
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Comments
the ice man
Match.maker info says 10 min of fantasies, so would that mean Gambit can get in punches to power up pow? in a strategic sense
the ice man
Oh, got a crazy idea of how they can't track Pandamonium, since only crazies pls near crazies and higher beings can see him like breeze and some agents, plus children like bee during the game so my idea is that he's has some (chaos) that makes that he's not there to beings that can not seeing him but they can see what he is doing and sense him
Throh_goblin Lord
Ooo, I wonder what class chris's brother will have
