What the FRICK just happened?

Chester here. Yeah, I'm alive. Somehow. I feel like I've been hit by a truck, but it's better than being dead. I'm at work, but custom is slow, so I'll tell you what happened.

Maybe 3PM yesterday, A proxy burst into the cell I was in and hauled me up by my collar. Huge guy, build like a brick outbuilding, maybe an inch shorter than me. He yelled "HOW DID SHE KNOW?" at me and then threw me at the wall. Everything went all fuzzy, partially because of the crack to the head and partially because my glasses had fallen off.

About that point I realised Vivi had pulled a Big Damn Heroes and was proceeding to face down three proxies by herself. Here's what I learnt about them during capitivity-

Frank. The huge guy who threw me into the wall. In his thirties, kinda stupid. Deferred to the other two.

Two-Face. Female, in her mid-twenties. Voice of reason, or as reasonable as "kill him and lock the girl in with his decomposing body, that should break her quite nicely" can be considered. Talks in a monotone. Frank called her "Kristen" and she punched him in the face.

Razor: Teenage male (15-18). Doesn't talk unless he absolutely has to- normally speaks through Two-Face, who may or may not be his sister. Sadistic. Real name begins with "A".

I'm turning over to Vivi now, since she was actually conscious for this part of the altercation.

--

Okay, so I expected them to have someone they knew I wouldn't be able to hit in that group, but they didn't, which was lucky I guess. I got the big one, Frank, first, so he wouldn't be a distraction fighting the other two. For such a huge guy he went down pretty fast. The kid, Razor, stayed back out of the action, so I engaged Two-Face. There's a reason she's called that, you know, and that is that she normally keeps her face complete neutral and her voice monotone until you engage her in combat. Cue Slasher Smile and she still speaks in that goddamn creepy monotone.

I admit, she was good. We were about the same skill level as each other, so it took a while for one of us to drop. And that was me. Because Frank had woken up and brained me with a plastic lawn chair. Tragic, isn't it?

That was when Razor entered the fray. Or rather, Two-Face pushed me down with her foot every time I tried to move while he kicked me. Fuck. Beaten senseless by a kid...I will never live this down. I'm not ashamed to say that I fight dirty, but even I have standards. Beating up someone already on the ground? That's low.

Someone (I think it was Razor) said "Pity. She might have made a good Indoctrinated if she hadn't been so stubborn." In the past tense. Like I was already dead.

Then I heard this visceral roar of rage, and-- well, I'll pass over to Chester.

--

It was at that point that I finally found my glasses. They'd left the door of the shed I was in OPEN, the idiots, and I could see what they were doing. Shit. Motherfucking Razor was enjoying every second of it. Every second of the pain and indignity he was inflicting on MY girlfriend.

Vivi, on the ground, more helpless than I had ever seen her. This is Vivi we're talking about. The Vivi who always has a way out, who always knows what to do, who'll always get off the ground with a smile on her face and kick anyone who tried to push her back down's teeth in.

Something in me snapped. I don't remember much. It's all one big messed-up blur. I have no idea what happened. Next thing I know Frank is locked in the shed they put me in, Two-Face is unconscious, and Razor is slumped against the wall and trying to get up.

Did I do that?

I grabbed Vivi, found her car and drove home. She woke up shortly before we got home, made me get out of the car, then bitchslapped me, yelled at me, and burst into tears. Goddamnit. I feel really guilty for going out by myself now if this is the way she reacts if something happens to me. She's okay, now. Still a bit mad at me, but too glad that we've both got out of this alive.

It's my birthday tomorrow. I'm 21. I'm ooooooooooold. It's also be the 5th anniversary of me meeting Vivi. There's a lot to celebrate. We've been friends five years and we're still alive.

--Chester.