[I thoroughly blame all of you amazing readers and your awesome comments 'n votes for motivating me. Thank you! I hope you enjoy this extra special one, from my apple-shaped heart. Heads up: Some of this is written behind Smirky's questioning eyes. Don't hesitate to ask if you get confused about something!]

His master's haunting glare had lanced through his soul.

Those merciless eyes. So full of danger, strength and victory. He was tranced by them, and yet the blood in his veins demanded heed, burned like liquid fire.

In the past, the formula never hurt him so badly. No mistake; it was always a spiteful poison, slithering under his skin with the intent to break it and force him to bleed, but never anything more.

Then again; he'd never stepped over his boundary line for so long either. He'd activated it thrice, blazing through every chaotic reserve of power it offered him.

And in exchange, it demanded equal payment. His own untainted blood. Perfect for corruption. Unprepared ruby, against unfathomable onyx.

Was this what it felt like, to walk a tightrope of decision and consequence?

Might he have performed better and avoided falling?

T h u d. T h u d. T h u d. His heartbeat sounded fragile.

It took precisely thirty seconds for him to register, that Zalgo had broken eye contact with him. An invisible hold lost its grip; he could relax those tight knots in his stomach.

For now, the prince of darkness had a bone to pick with Smiley. The not-so-good doctor found himself at his mercy in a flash, wrist seized in a circulation-cutting hold.

"Let's make it easier for both of us." Zalgo sharply twisted it. "Tell me how you escaped, and I won't break this in half."

Smiley yelled out, in pain or surprise – couldn't tell which, and put up a fierce fight to free his arm. He kicked and he tugged, he clawed and he hissed.

"LET GO OF ME!"

Zalgo only readjusted his grasp. He held Smiley's wrist from behind – a claw lightly tracing his ulnar artery with frightening precision.

"Ahem. You were saying...?"

The not-so-good doctor brought his resistance to a shuddering halt. Having a creepy demon play "Round and round the garden" on your wrist, with his claws, was quite convincing.

"Es-Escaped? My teeth can go sharp as any blade. I bit through your flimsy chains; ripped those cuffs off too. And I... I broke the door down."

A little white and black lie, tailing the rush of shimmering truth. It sent Smirky's heart leaping to his throat, knowing just what his brother had hid.

Smiley never handled pain well. Why make it worse for himself?

T h u d! T h u d! T h u d!

Zalgo growled deeply, lifting Smiley clear off the ground by his ensnared wrist.

He'd known of the not-so-good doctor's trickery at once. His sensitive fingertips had been pressed on the artery, keeping a close monitor on its racing pulse.

"You shouldn't lie to me, unless you're the kind who enjoys being hurt!"

Claws pierced the soft skin of Smiley's palm.

"No! Not at all!" His voice shattered mid-shriek.

Mesmerising blood beads rolled along the crease of Smiley's wrist (staining it with red rivulets), and fell; messy dark splatters on a ravaged stone floor.

T h u d! T h u d! T h u d! Smirky witnessed this pointless torture in silence.

What to do? Invoke wrath for his disobedience, by telling a truth his brother could not? His master was always good at coming up with creative punishments.

Being thrown and locked in the trap-filled training hall for hours on end, to battle a nonstop swarm of drunk minions bare-handed, would be mercy.

No!

Why admit to anything at all?

No!

Why was he even considering doing something so foolish? Why not stand back and let the liar suffer for his crime? He hated him!

Zalgo's tail flicked whiplike. "Dare take me for a fool? Don't test my patience!"

He pivoted Smiley's trapped wrist at an unnatural angle, eliciting a continuous cry of pain that became louder and louder, the closer it came to its breaking point.

"I-I didn't break- The door was open when I woke up! P-Please! Stop it! STOP IT!"

Five jagged red letters spelt out in Smirky's mind; one at a time. H-A-T-E-D.

So why... why wasn't he getting any enjoyment from watching this? Honestly, it was the other way around. He wanted it to stop. He didn't like hearing his mirrored self scream.

T h u d. T h u d. T h u d.

Crack! The not-so-good doctor's back slammed into a side wall. He slid down with some accompanying rubble, his body shuddering from its violent impact.

It would seem, the demon ran out of patience.

Zalgo neatly dusted off his hands, turning away from the pitiful scene of Smiley slumping against the aforementioned wall. He scoffed.

"Lie to me again, and you'll swallow your own severed tongue. Kagekao can vouch if you doubt my threats. Do you?"

Smiley numbly shook his head, voice a murmur. "I don't..."

He cradled his wrist with his other hand and kept it close to his chest, with his fingers fanned out, making any touch gentle.

Between the spread digits, his bruised skin showed swelling and discolouration.

They were only a few feet away from Mr. Traitorous Froggy Clock's extinguished, smouldering remains.

And yes, we really do need to stop taking about that clock and focus on our unfurling plotline instead. But we probably won't. Word count, word count, boosty, boost, boost. ;)

Zalgo feigned interest in admiring flecks of blood on his claws, as if they were a fancy polish. His luminous eyes gave away a different intention, slyly looking above his nails.

T h u d. T h u d. T h u d. Was this it?

"And what about you, my pet? I can't help but notice – you've been rather quiet."

T h u d! T h u d! T h u d! It was.

"I'd love to know what's on your mind. Won't you help me escort our would-be escapee to be tranquillzed? We can talk afterwards."

Caught in Zalgo's fiery line of sight, Smirky's wit wavered. Every word became snagged to the dry walls of his throat.

Only one thing was clear; he had no choice.

His master was waiting for an answer, already giving a smirkish smile.

T H U D! T H U D! T H U D! He knows...

"O-Of course, Lord Zalgo..." He ended his hesitant sentence with a quick, rigid bow.

Zalgo made a move to cross the hall (towards Smiley), but stopped in front of Smirky instead.

For a fraction of an apprehensive second, the illusionist tensed.

With a light chuckle, the demon reached out and petted him on the head, ruffling his hair.

"Come now. Give me a hand with your troublesome brother."

Such a gesture would usually be seen as a sign of friendliness, or absentminded affection, or something much different if you asked Kagekao.

But Smirky, who was running a hand over his scalp while grimacing, really had to wonder

Was it complete accident that Zalgo's claws had twirled a dozen delicate strands of hair around their curved tips, and viciously torn them out?

Maybe not.

Sadly, the author's spy lemmings had to hightail outta there to avoid being compromised by the guard minions as they returned to their post.

Lest there be a whole chapter about little rodents making their grand escape down the local toilets, let's move along...

~*~*~

Zalgo left the dungeon in a cheery mood, towing Smiley by the front of his shirt. Smirky trailed along, keeping his paces light.

He offered the not-so-good doctor a shoulder to lean on; something that Smiley gratefully accepted, already close to lapsing back into unconsciousness.

The illusionist was mildly surprised by his own actions, but soon resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't doing too well either, mentally and physically.

Rest. He needed to rest, think over everything at his own relaxed pace and discern what needed to be adjusted.

And, as his skin reminded him by splitting all-round his neck, he also needed another formula dose.

His new wound was controlled as fast as it opened. But what escaped, the initial ooze of blood, made it look like he was wearing a glistening scarlet collar around his throat.

He held his sleeve to the front, and exhaled slowly through his cursed teeth. Then he began to mop up the excess blood.

Neither of the twins uttered a single word, but their minds were working pretty hard.

Smiley had no clue about the lair's confusing layout – but he studied their route and tried to commit it to memory. Everything he remembered was of advantage to Slenderman.

If anything, it gave him something engaging to do. A reason for clinging onto consciousness.

At this rate, they won't need to tranquillize me...

On the thought chain's other end, Smirky was aware that they were heading towards laboratory B7. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

His crimson eyes burnt into his master's back, calculating. And at the final result – something didn't add up.

Administering sedatives is our usual protocol for tricky prisoners... But there's an ample supply in the guard posts; he doesn't need to take us anywhere. What is he up to?

Come to think of it, he hasn't said anything about my deliberate disobedience either...

An ominous lightbulb popped into sight and blinked repeatedly over his head.

Trick. Trick. Trick. The word beat like a living heart in his head.

Think. His master divulged plans to use Smiley as a test subject, to him, the one holding a hellbent grudge. When the cell's keys just happened to be within reach.

Coincidence? It was unlike his master to make small talk about anything without a goal in mind. He'd wanted Smirky to snatch them from him, didn't he? But, for what purpose?

In spite of how surprised and displeased Zalgo acted upon catching them, it was strange that he hadn't noticed their heated battle sooner. Or - had he?

And if he did, why did the prince of darkness listen to those minions and intervene only after it looked like he was about to kill off his mirror twin, and win...?

Was he hoping that... hoping that he'd lose? No, that was a risky gamble. There had to be a kind of final result in mind, dead body or no dead body.

They reached a (spoonless) fork in the hall.

Zalgo - unaware of his servant's suspicions - made a smooth pass into its left passage.

Smirky stepped to a side and continued to trail, his hands clasped behind his back, while his shoulder was still in use.

I have questions.Why did he intentionally give me the means to kill my brother. What does he need from Laboratory B7. And why does he want me there too?

Thump. "Ow!"

A peculiar noise convinced him to turn his head.

Forgetting to make room for Smiley to pass, he'd unintentionally directed his brother face-first into the dividing wall.

Dizzy, the not-so-good doctor circled on his heel, before being yanked into the correct passage. Don't forget – Zalgo was still dragging him indifferently.

Some piece of Smirky and his deranged thinking that found itself still capable of finding amusement in little things, barely hid a devilish smile.

Oops. Even his thoughts sounded unapologetic.

~*~*~*~

Without any prior warning, Zalgo opened - and subsequently chucked Smiley through - the laboratory door.

Smiley landed in a skewed position, splayed out on the floor like a broken slinky bent out of shape.

Unlike a tangled toy, he snapped back together without hours of meticulous work (and frustration). Kept his back off the ground, and rested on his elbows.

"You didn't have to throw me." Huff.

"I know." Zalgo's eyes went glitter glitter. "But I wanted to."

Smirky stepped around the glaring doctor and disappeared further into the shadowy recesses of the laboratory.

Everything was powered down at the back.

The rows and rows of equipment (glimpses of glinting metal, the rest was concealed in darkness), and the bleak cabinets (overcrowded with supplies), were closing in around him.

His footsteps landed softly.

Today has been... overwhelming.

He walked aimlessly. Just for the sake of doing something, he examined his bloodsoaked sleeve. Distraction from the strange turmoil in his head.

I'm questioning my own emotions and actions. It's not good. The best thing I can do is-

"AAAH! ANYTHING BUT THAT!"

A bloodcurdling shout made him jump. He knocked into the silhouette of a bookshelf. It rocked back and forth, spilling books and vials onto the floor.

Smirky sought out the source of the sound, which was pretty easy.

All he had to do was spin around and pick up on the – significantly raised – voices of Zalgo and Smiley. Someone didn't want a jab from the big needle.

(Feel free to grab yourself more brain bleach, if you're the kind of person with a gutter-bound mind, who finds double meaning in the word big needle.)

"Oh... What a mess."

The illusionist dropped down to his knees, and started picking up the fallen things. He tuned out Smiley's hysterical wailing and devoted his attention to the books instead.

One. Two. Three. Four. He tucked them neatly under his arm without sparing a glance at their covers.

It was a shame that he hadn't taken a look at them. They were Zalgo's confidential property.

No, we're not referring to a secret collection of demon-centered erotic manga. We're talking "future experiment plans".

The demonic hentai was locked safety inside his nightstand's secret drawer.

Smirky held onto one of the bookshelf's sturdy shelves and pulled himself up, quickly heaving the armful of volumes back in. Then he sank back down to collect another load.

"YOOOWWHEEEEEeeeee...!" Smiley's voice faded away.

Vials of glowing liquid clinked in the dark and rolled in all directions like a scattered runaway rainbow.

Smirky did his best to gather up, and set them, back into their proper places.

"There. This should be the last of it."

He stood up and retraced his steps, satisfied by the quick cleanup.

Unbeknownst to Smirky; one of the vials wasn't luminescent.

This single, oh-so-important tube of liquid, found its way to the other side of the lab, rolling under any and all obstacles in its path.

... And collided with Smiley's outstretched hand.

His fingers instinctively curled around the cool object, drawn to it. He pulled his arm back to pocket it, without even knowing what it exactly was.

Dropping his movable hand back on the floor, all Smiley could do was lie still. He tried to groan, but only dry air escaped his throat.

The not-so-good doctor, despite his extravagant fuss, had taken an injection to the neck.

Zalgo didn't bother looking - far too interested in examining the catch he'd netted from fishing around in the pockets of Smiley's coat; the silver key.

A couple of minions waddled in, hiccuping and wobbling like unsteady bowling pins.

One of them had a goose sitting on its head. Another sported a feather-duster sticking out of unmentionable places.

The other two were naked and covered in pink soapy bubbles, shower caps stretched over their exposed 'lil booties.

We're so sorry about having to describe that last bit. We really are.

For mysterious reasons, Zalgo wasn't very keen on having them and their lunacy in his prized laboratory for long.

He dropped the silver key back into his own pocket, and immediately gave them orders to 'do something constructive-'

"-For example, picking up this drugged creepypasta and locking him up again. Take all the time desired; he can't do a thing in protest."

Behind the demon's back, Smiley weakly flipped him the middle finger.

A wave of unison nods passed over the questionable little henchmen, who all scurried to grab some part of the not-so-good doctor.

His foot, his elbow, his left earlobe and his nose, to be precise.

And so, Doctor Smiley was disgracefully dragged off by the drunk-as-hell minions. The only consolation was the fact he was too "out of it" to care.

The prince of darkness shoved them out the door and hastily slammed it shut, leaning his back's weight on the mechanism for awhile. Juuuust in case.

They're out of their minds!

He spoke this thought aloud, momentarily forgetting about a second presence.

"I wouldn't judge them too harshly, Lord Zalgo. With due respect – your own drunken antics are somewhat worse..."

Zalgo breathed a sigh, moving from the door with a flick of his tail.

"We mutually agreed to never bring up that little... Ah... Incident. So please. Don't remind me." His cheeks dusted over with a rosy pink tint, for just one moment

Smirky seemed to glide around to the front with ease.

He left a pattern of bright red drips in his wake.

"Mhm. I won't – but Kagekao will never shut up about it."

And then; an offhand change in subject. "You wanted to see me..?"

It took a few seconds for the words to sink into Zalgo's brain. When the first bit clicked; he gave a nervous laugh.

When the second clicked; his expression darkened.

The atmosphere plummeted.

His head made a tiny tilt, sharply covering every feature except his eyes in shadow. Those glowing red orbs – scorched with a hellish red shine.

A tactic to spark terror.

An effective one.

Flinching, the illusionist made a note to practice it for himself later on. A feeling of being trapped and vulnerable was waging war with his rational thought.

He's not invincible or untouchable; the lighting changed and that's all.
But still, can he overpower me in seconds...?

Smirky snapped out of it, drove his scattered attention into a single point; Zalgo's fiery gaze was (metaphorically) burning him.

"There was guilt written all over your face," the prince of darkness rasped, chuckling, "when you noticed me behind him."

"The last word refers to Smiley, I presume." He raised his chin defiantly, facing the monstrous eyes with more courage then before.

"I know you stole the key to his cell from me. And I let you two wreck havoc in my dungeon because... I wanted data. I wanted results. I wanted to see who would win."

Smirky opened his mouth, but closed it right away as the skin around his throat gruesomely cracked and lifted, revealing a humongous honeycomb pattern of blood.

"Oh? Desperate for another dose of formula already, are we?" Zalgo teased.

No matter how cruel he sounded, or how much he not-so-secretly revelled at the sight, he didn't stoop as low as to deprive his servant of medicine.

"Well anyway, I didn't expect the battle to go the way it did. Your brother's been dealt with - I took him here to administer a prototype drug. He won't be stepping out of line for awhile. And as for you..."

A soothing purple glow flooded warmth back into Smirky's cold blood, offering him an illusion of relief. It couldn't take away the pain; only mask it at the surface.

"I think, if you survive today, you'd be worthy of becoming my second-in-command tomorrow. Just some food for thought." The demon remarked.

Supported by Zalgo's telekinetic boost, Smirky had enough strength to follow his master into the depths of the laboratory.

It wouldn't last forever.

The lights flared back into life on command, chasing away the shadows and imposing silhouettes.

It toned down to a dull creamish shine, layers of darkness sulking behind every corner. Shadows of endless rows of dull shelves and hanging wires. And a lingering despair; something being not quite right.

Added up all together, the laboratory was a bleak place to be indeed.

"Hm. There's one thing... Did you actually activate the formula's most powerful state by yourself?"

"Yes..."

"I'm impressed. It should've been impossible. Thank you."

A little question mark floated above Smirky's head. Then he looked up and blew it upwards, straight into a flickering bar light. "For being eager to kill your test subject?"

"No, for showing me a devastating flaw in the coding. Pity I didn't know about it sooner. Ideally, the formula's best should only activate on my command, not the user's."

One of the sopping wet spy lemmings fell from the ceiling; a free-falling silhouette behind them.

Zalgo promptly span around, missing it by nanoseconds. "... Odd. Did you just squeak?"

"Do I look like a rubber ducky?" Smirky inquired innocently, cocking his head to one side.

"Touché." The prince of darkness abruptly stopped; they'd reached the back of the lab. "Wait here."

The purple glow brought Smirky to a swift stop, and humanely spared him from harrow by further lifting him onto a surgery table made of opaque black glass.

A dark ripple passed over the radiant telekinesis. It faded. Left so suddenly to his own devices, the illusionist sank in a flash.

He caught himself before he toppled, mere a bat of an eye away from falling to the floor in a crumpled heap. "Gah!"

Zalgo – who was reaching to unlock a high cupboard with his claw – watched from the corner of his eye.

"You shouldn't have done that; pushed the formula so far, I mean. Do I have to explain how it works again?"

His claw worked skilfully in the lock. Sure, Zalgo could've just taken twenty seconds to find its key, but who had time for that?

Not waiting for an answer, he continued scolding Smirky, as if the illusionist was a misbehaved child who needed lecturing.

"When activated, the formula corrupts your own blood to use as fuel for power. The more you demand, the more you pay. And the chain reaction can't be willed to stop."

The lemming from earlier got confused and scurried into the scene. Startled by the sight of Zalgo, it screeched to a halt and slid on wet paws, squeaking in terror.

"Only a new dose of dormant formula will control- Are you sure you didn't hear a squeak?"

Smirky raised his entertained eyes from the floor, poker-faced. "No."

Zalgo glanced around the floor, failing to notice the petrified lemming by sheer luck. He shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the task at hand.

"As I was saying... If the formula is allowed to run unchecked for too long, it will decide to kill you. To accomplish that, it begins expelling your remaining blood."

On cue, Smirky winced as a long trail of vermillion snaked down his face and stung his eye.

"-By attacking you from the inside, like it is now."

With no desire to go half blind again, the illusionist wiped at it furiously with his clean sleeve.

"-If you didn't have your accelerated healing to staunch the wounds as they appear; you'd bleed out in minutes."

The lemming cautiously poked its head around one of the table legs.

Figuring it was safe to come out, the unfortunate rodent broke into a run...

Only to slip over its own feet again.

The lemming went flying like greased lightning, straight to the other side of the scene.

It skidded past Zalgo – squealing at the top of its lungs.

The exasperated demon whipped around, two vials of sloshing liquid in hand.

"For Zal- for my sakes- WHO KEEPS MAKING THAT IMBECILIC SQUEAKING?"

Smirky swung his legs and whistled an inconspicuous tune, finding a particularly interesting spot of ceiling to stare at.

Zalgo straightened up and regained his composure, breathing an indignant puff of smoke through his nose. "Anyway..."

The prince of darkness shook himself free of doubt, glistening tail curling around his leg.

He rested his head on his shoulder to subtly check on his servant's attentions. His deceitful eyes scanned the illusionist cunningly, made sure he was off-guard.

"I've mentioned this before; the newest version isn't murderous and unstable. It won't throw tantrums and try taking over at random times, like last night-"

Smirky firmly shook his head, biting his lip. Nuh-uh.

"It might... It might stop one problem, but I don't.... I don't want to. The first one al-almost killed me; and I don't need any more..." His voice faltered.

Zalgo closed his eyes, nodding. "It's fine. I understand."

He reopened them by a crack, to see the glass vials he'd retrieved. They were labeled O (for old) and N (for new) respectively.

One was filled with a familiar jet black, inky liquid. And the other, identical at first glance; a deep hue of purple.

"How are you feeling after that dramatic brotherly showdown, my pet?"

"Um... Is that a trick question?" Smirky gave his stained cheek a light flick, splaying blood across the bridge of his nose. Point taken.

Unsuspecting. Zalgo confirmed.

He lightly placed vial 'O' back in the cupboard, mindful to shut its self-locking door afterwards. Then he ducked down to swipe a disposable syringe from the countertop.

"Oh, how silly of me to ask. What I meant was, if you were to die right now..."

"Later." Smirky's voice hung on a whimper. "Hurry... Please?"

His clothes were dyed with splotches of red. His face had gone pallid. Blood was pooling on the floor, steadily draining him to the last drop.

Zalgo was breezing through the technicalities, such as unwrapping the syringe and opening the vial.

"Ah, don't worry, I will. Occupy yourself. Remember your high pain tolerance. Count down from ten."

Digging his nails into the underside of the table edge, Smirky heeded his advice. "Ten."

"In the meanwhile; mind if I distract you some more?"

"N-No. Nine."

Whilst in "preparation" (read: trying to pry open the stubborn vial), Zalgo made small talk. His sentences flowed fast and plentiful.

He told Smirky 'almost' everything about L.J's revival in a single breath; but we've omitted the whole portion of conversation due to... budget cuts.

The countdown dwindled slowly – for the counter was reluctant to reach zero and have nothing left to do except start all over again. Eight. Seven.

"Six. Where the hell did you send him to?"

"Your roo-" Zalgo cut himself off. "Ahem. The bingo hall."

"I hope he got blown up by a firework. Five."

Zalgo, finished with the "preparations", swooped in with the syringe in hand. His next words were casual; a throwaway line.

"Oh, and by the way - there was a change of plans in regards to the new formula." He can't refuse, if he doesn't know until it's too late.

"Four. What are you talking about?" Smirky rolled up one of his bloodied sleeves.

"Well, as it stands, I have two subjects, born with almost identical DNA, but a key difference; one is a natural-born creepypasta, and the other is not."

"... I don't follow. Three."

"So what if, I ran the new formula's test a little early? If something went wrong with you, I'd have a fresher – better - subject waiting in the wings."

Zalgo continued, rushing his pace. "It's nothing personal; just necessary. You'll thank me for it later."

Smirky numbly bowed his head, reading the intention. "... Two."

The illusionist was clever. Now he picked up the pieces, sorted through scraps of information thrown to him, and fitted together a patchwork puzzle.

All in the time it took for a drop of blood to fall; splash into a rippling pool of scarlet lustre.

He understood the final result crystal clear; no gaudy sparkles on the jewelled glass to blind him into delusion. Everything already said and set into motion. I'm an idiot.

To test their respective abilities and see who would triumph, he'd been allowed to take a shot at Smiley and given it his all. That much was certain. In a true twist of irony; neither of them won.

Perhaps his master planned it from the start. Or merely set up a stage, as one of several possibilities, lax about whichever way the deadly river flowed.

After all, Zalgo was a mad scientist.

Heartless experiments, analytical study, and insanely complicated schemes conceived over a glass of whiskey, were his specialties.

And he – Smirky – finally knew exactly where he stood.

In Zalgo's cruel eyes, he was nothing but a manipulatable pawn to be put in the enemy's line of fire. An expendable piece to be knocked off wrath's chessboard, once his use was up.

Worthless.

Making him dance over flames, never allowed to accomplish what he wanted?

Toying with his trust, to force his blood to swallow a poison it didn't want to? Unforgivable.

"One..."

How could a needle's plain prick, be the harbinger of such soul-splitting agony?

"... Zero."
____________________
A/N: *wrings arms behind back* ... I hate needles!

Alrighty, I'm so sorry for the two-week delay! Just to recap what happened here (and hopefully clear up any confusing bits...):

Smiley got drugged with a "prototype" sedative, and managed to nab an interesting vial, which will be significant for later chapters. L.J's gonna make an appearance soon too!

Smirky was forcefully given the new formula against his will, and is now undergoing a bloodborne metamorphosis. If you ask me, I don't think he's very happy with his master at the moment...

And Zalgo is officially a grade 'A' arsehole. No word on what happened to the lemming. I think it's still lurking around somewhere.

Question Of Le Day: Would you rather have the next chapter's perspective following Smirky, like this one did, or switch to someone a bit more... monochrome instead? :)

Thank you so much for all your continued support and love; it fills me with colour! Looking forward to your feedback about this extravaganza of a chapter! XD

Toodles~!
*drumroll* Final Word Count: 5087.