Four of Them

So, the jaded viewer is starting a choose-your-own-adventure throwback, kay? And that sounded kind of fun (because I dig that shit), so I'm gonna contribute here. Go click on the linked to read the beginning, and this is what happens in the second choice. Yo.

(note: shitty writing is not covered by your insurance plan)

The Detention Dungeon

You and Terry burst through the cafeteria doors, panting like a couple of people who ran from the detention room to the cafeteria, because this is no joking matter.

"I think," Terry gulped, "we lost them."

"Lost who?" You ask.

"Smith and Lasher, fool!" Terry straightened her back indignantly, before miming a melodramatic slap.

"They weren't chasing us."

"Yet."

You contemplate. "Well played."

"So what now?" Terry straightened her bag on her shoulder, glancing around the crowded cafeteria for suspiciously veiny foreheads.

"Avoid life long trauma at the hands of the fabled Mr. Lasher?" You suggest.

"Brilliant!" She paused, "But we'll need some filler stuff. For the report."

"What report?"

"The report I'm going to type up later. Oh, shit!"

Terry dropped to her stomach, wiggling for the underside of a nearby table. You jump back in surprise, phone slipping out of your hand. Terry pulls you down before you can retrieve it.

"I'd recognize that luxurious mustache anywhere!" she proclaims, nearly drowned out by the surely-uproarious joke told by the barbarous football team dining above them, "Mr. Smith is here!"

You crane your neck out between the spit-polished sneakers directly in front of you, to see a familiar pair of dollar-ninety loafers stomp in through the very same entrance they once stood. Next to them, to the surprise of you and Terry, another set of feet join. Shiny, professional-looking shoes, black with buckles and snazzy gray pant legs tickling the mouths.

"No regular school administrator could dress so debonair." Terry breathed.

"You're right," You say gravely, "It can only be one man."

Mr. Lasher.

"Why is nobody panicking? Do they not realize the danger they're in?" Terry yelled hysterically, prompting some curious toeing from the bulky sneakers. You flick a stray tatter tot out from the seat, the feet disappearing.

"Probably nobody recognizes him. He's never been seen by anyone of their right mind, y'know."

"Shut up, of course I know. Oh, fucktard!" You and her wiggle back farther under the deserted table as the feet stroll closer.

"Whaddawedo!?!" Terry shrilly whispered, backpack now clutched into her stomach.

"Well," you glance from your vantage point possible escape routes, "We can either run for the door on the other end of the cafeteria (next to the cash register), try and go out the way we came, or blend into the crowd until they leave."

If you go out the opposite exit, turn the page to [blog].

If you go out the way you came, turn the page to [Peculiar Superpowers].

If you stay in the cafeteria, turn to [blog].

(this is where you jump in with you a-mazing installments)