Start looking through the piles of weapons in storage.
(Demo splits off from Allan. He stumbles through the dark, sorting things by touch. He makes sure to be cautious and very gentle. He doesn’t want to send himself through respawn.
He soon finds himself in between two weapon racks, piles of broken and battered guns scattered along the aisle. Demo wouldn’t be able to see this, if it weren’t for one thing.
A faint yellow-green glow, shrouded by fractured force-of-natures and busted black boxes.
Demo feels strange, familiar energy emit from that pile. He takes a cautious step forward.
What is that? Is it one of those alien weapons? But what’s it doing down here?
He takes another careful step.
But this energy... it’s not like that it’s... different. Where have I seen it before? It’s on the tip of my tongue...
It wouldn’t be a cryptid. Not all the way down here. What else is there?
Wait... It couldn’t be...
Suddenly, his train of thought is broken by Allan’s voice, asking how it’s going. He turns away from the glow, calling over his shoulder.)
Huh? Oh! It’s, uh... it’s goin’ alright. Ye find somethin’?
*Allan chuckles awkwardly, unsure of how to break the odd tension that just seemingly popped up out of nowhere.* I found a bunch of old butterfly knives, but I don’t really know how to use those. Still pretty cool, though. Matter of fact, I found a bunch of old weapons. None of them really spoke to me though. *He walks over to Demo and squats down next to him.* So, did you find anything interesting?
(Demo looks back at the glow from the pile.)
(He steps forward again and crouches down. The glow illuminates his worried face. A feeling of dread grows in the pit of his stomach. He pushes aside the broken weapons.
He lets out a small gasp, a look of horror overwhelming his worry.
Underneath the pile lays a sword, emitting that yellow-green light. It seems to be in decent condition.
What frightens Demo isn’t the sword itself, not at all. What scares him is where he’s seen this energy before. He remembers when he was given Eyelander well, the energy washing over him as soon as he opened the box.
However, the implications of there being another haunted sword is terrifying.
Someone died. And it was recent enough for him not to have noticed earlier.)
Kneeling over a faint green glow, illuminating a sword that on its own may seem unassuming,
Someone died here, and you don’t know who.
It couldn’t have been a stranger, not unless they were inside of the base.
And that makes the dread only creep further and further to your very core.
*Allan rests his hand on Demo’s shoulder. Something is wrong, but he doesn’t know what. Demo seems… spaced out. Far away. Allan doesn’t like it. He starts humming the song, hoping to pull Demo back to reality.*
(Demo hadn’t realized it, but he had been pulled into a sort of tunnel vision. The song quickly brings him back from it, as he hums along softly, shakily.
He needs to think rationally here. All of his teammates and Miss Pauling are connected to respawn, and as far as he knows there hasn’t been a malfunction. So, who could this possibly be?
He picks up the sword carefully and stands up with it, looking it over.)
It feels as if you've been thrown into a cyclone, shaking you to your roots as your vision is continuously bombarded with sparks of lightning charging up and down the sword, ensnaring your limbs then pulling you towards an invisible force, only to blast you backwards again. Confusion melts between horror, terror even, thoughts are halved and shuffled akin to playing cards, then shredded by voltage darting through your veins. Paralyzed by the energy, it drops you to your knees.
Through the chaotic whirlwind of static electricity, you can hear a voice steadily growing louder and more panicked.
GGHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-
NO NO NO NO NO WAIT NO NO NO DONT PUT ME DOWN DONT PUT ME DOWN DONT PUT ME DOWN CAN YOU HEAR ME PLEASE TELL ME YOU CAN HEAR ME CAN YOU CAN YOU HEAR ME- PLEASE- PLEASE-... FINALLY...
The voice is extinguished, and the sword stops humming, the glow only a fraction as bright as it were prior. It's clear that whatever- no, whoever- possesses the sword has fainted.
