Drama Club Presents: Night of the Living Dead (Elliot/Isaac)

An "I'm late?" nightmare? That seemed a pretty typical one for the bros. Although those nightmares were usually Elliot getting increasingly irritable as Isaac either couldn't or refused to get up in time. "Don't worry, bro," he'd always say. "I always make it on time in the end, don't I?" A grumble of "Barely" was usually the only response to that one, but it was the kind of situation that the two had imagined themselves in countless times. If this was the best the haunted house could do, they'd be fine! Elliot looked ready for Pumpkinmon to bring it on, while Isaac tentatively looked around the room.

That's when the scratching and groaning started. Elliot turned as pale as a ghost and immediately clung to his brother, clutching his arm tightly. Isaac desperately flung a hand over Elliot's mouth, trying to stop him from letting out a panicked squeal. All in all it sounded like the proper decision, judging by what Pumpkinmon had to say. There were hungering ghouls out there, and the wrong sound at the wrong time would paint a giant, brain-shaped target right on their backs. Out of the window the duo noticed a Mummymon shambling past, the sight making even Isaac shudder a little.

Of course, once Elliot actually had time to look at what his brother was wearing, his reaction changed from fright to soft giggling. "I-Isaac, oh my god. Don't look down," he said, trying his hardest to stifle it. However, Isaac wasn't listening. He was too busy hearing what Pumpkinmon had to say, because he was liking the sound of it. The lead role in a play? Freaking finally! And his mom was going to be there to see it? And Maia?

. . . Okay. There was a catch coming, wasn't there?

That's when Pumpkinmon commented on the tights, and Elliot lost any ability he had to contain his laughter. Isaac practically leaped back in shock as he looked down at himself, noticing the green, incredibly tight tights currently on his person. Oh god, he was wearing a stupid hat too, wasn't he? And he knew there was probably some pointy shoes with bells on them, and a mini-cape that just barely didn't reach his butt. Elliot practically confirmed all of these facts with his laughter, the green of the costume nicely accented by the bright scarlet currently lighting up Isaac's face. There was only one thought that came to mind.

"Oh god, Maia can't see me like this," he pleaded.

"Hey! Come on! Snap out of it!" Elliot protested, looking his brother dead in the eye. "This is what you've always wanted, right? You finally get your big chance, after all this time. Sure, it might not be the role you dreamed of, but this is amazing!"

"Easy for you to say. Do you know how bad this is ridi-"

"I don't need the details. Nobody needs the details.

Look, what are you worried about? Maia? This is a haunted house. How can you even be sure it's the real Maia?"

That was a good point. It would've taken a massive ego to believe that Maia's biggest fear was him making an idiot out of himself. She had a life beyond him, after all, and Isaac was fairly sure that it way more interesting than his anyway. She was probably raiding ancient Indiana Jones temples right now, or blasting Xenomorphs in a giant spaceship. "Man, she's probably going to seem so real, though. Even if she's an illusion, it's gonna suck hearing her laugh at me."

"Maybe she'll be won over by your talent? Heck, she might even find you kinda cute, in that David Bowie kind of way."

"Okay. Fine, we'll see.

Ugh, is transforming gonna rip the costume? Yasyamon would've been blowing through these halls in the blink of an eye by now."

"Wait. I have an idea. How about I transform and give you a lift?"

"Oh! You're gonna shift into Gargoylemon and swoop me right down to the first floor? Brilliant plan, Elliot!"

Elliot's deathly pallor returned. "Are you serious? With all of those zombies out there? What if there's flying zombies? Flying dragon zombies? They'll pluck me right out of the sky!

B-besides. Isn't there stuff marked on the map? We should probably check it out, and that means staying in the building."

"Yeah. Sure, okay. You're right. So long as I'm not moving, because I just know this thing's gonna start chafing the second I do."

"Works for me!

. . . Wait. Why's there a chill?"

"Yeah, when Pumpkinmon left he . . . opened . .. "

". . . the . . . window."

Putting two and two together, Isaac stifled Elliot's mouth again so he couldn't start screaming his head off. Beneath Isaac's grip he started transforming, thankfully getting the hint and stopping his wail before he had turned into Strikedramon. Once transformed Elliot scooped his brother up, slinging him onto his back and making a mad dash for the third floor staircase. With all the time they spent talking, even if in hushed whispers, they were bound to have attracted some attention by now. With Elliot's scales a pale white and Isaac's face a bright crimson, it was time to get this mission started!

As a pack of walkers slithered through the window, Isaac looked over his shoulder and swallowed nervously. The moans were already starting to echo through the hall, thankfully distant but still causing Elliot's scales to pale slightly. Isaac, unsure what else to do, gave his bro a reassuring pat on the shoulder. If he was being carried up and unable the fight, the least he could be was an extra pair of eyes and ears. He continued casting glances at the swarm, and thankfully Elliot's superior speed seemed to be leaving them in the dust.

"Elliot? Whatever you do, don't look behind you. We're fine, okay?" he said, trying to hide the worry in his voice.

"Isaac, you know that never helps," Elliot's voice quivering. "Why would you even tell me that?"

"Because its true!" Isaac protested, exasperated. "It's just a bunch of zombies. They'll never catch us on the way to the stairs. You just gotta keep focu-"

Then the roar burst out from the pack, and with it a Troopmon. Flesh, ooze, and tar sloughed from its body as it ran, its body undulating uncomfortably and its legs moving way too fast for their stubby size. Isaac did a double take as he noticed the Troopmon charging, wondering how the hell it could even move like this. "Okay! New plan! Do look behind you!" he shouted, desperately shaking Elliot's shoulder. That got Elliot paling even more, trembling slightly. If even Isaac was getting worried, what the heck was he supposed to do? He steadfastly refused to turn around, but a frantic shout of "Please!" finally got his attention.

Strikedramon wheeled around just in time to see Troopmon hurtling towards him like a tar torpedo. Even at full speed it was catching up to him. What chance would he have now that he had slowed down? He desperately flung himself against the wall, hoping Troopmon's momentum would make him barrel right past. As he did this Isaac curled up as small and tightly as possible, hoping that none of Troopman's disgusting tar would get on his new costume. They waited, pressed against the wall, until the coast was clear. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god," he muttered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for it to get as far away from him as possible. From there they waited to see what it would do. Would it keep charging up the stairs, or would it try wheeling back around the other way?

Not helping matters was the zombie flopping down the stairs. Elliot shuddered as its grotesque body started slipping down each step. He imagined its body bending, cracking, and collapsing with each step, only for it to get back up and start cracking its bones back into place. On the other hand, Isaac tried to contain a bit of snickering.

"We can't go this way. The stairs are tainted," Elliot said, dead-serious.

"C'mon, you're scared of that?" Isaac asked, pointing to Sir Flops-a-Lot. "It can't even go down stairs! That's hilarious!"

"Yeah, but when it gets back up . . ."

"Look, once the coast is clear, get climbing. We really don't have much time. I promise, I'll let you know if anything's trying to hurt you, okay?"

"O-okay . . ."

From there Elliot waited to see what Troopmon would do next. If he came back around for another charge, it'd be time to dodge and climb. If it was gone for at least ten seconds, he'd immediately make a break for the stairs.

Normally, Elliot would have gone far out of his way for anyone that had fallen down the stairs. He had a big heart, and there was always room for more people inside of it. This zombie? That was the exception. As it reached out for Elliot he made sure to stay as far away from it as possible, hands trembling slightly as he made sure Isaac wouldn't fall off of his back. He moved in a wide circle around the fallen zombie, waiting to make sure it wouldn't get up and then gunning for the stairs.

Unfortunately, Elliot wasn't the only one gunning for the stairs. The Troopmon was back, and it was trying to chase them down as well. Its loud bellow froze Elliot in his tracks for a second, one foot on the bottom step and leaving him in mid-ascent. Desperately Isaac shook his shoulder, shouting "Elliot! If you stop it's gonna catch up to you again! We need to get moving!"

He looked over his shoulder, noticing that the Troopmon seemed smaller. Heck, it seemed even goopier than before as well. Although he was too distracted to properly notice based on height alone, the giant trail of behind it was a dead give away as well. "Maybe if we keep outrunning it it'll stop. Its been breaking apart-"

"Why do you keep making this worse?" Nevertheless, Elliot charged up the stairs, Isaac continuing to serve as his watchful eyes. "Tell me when it gets close so I can dodge it again!"

"Got it!" This climb up the stairs was basically their next attempt at a dodge. Maybe they'd leave Troopmon behind. Maybe they'd have to play the dangerous game of jumping back and forth while also trying to climb up a staircase. Whatever the case, the freedom of the third floor was temptingly close. All they had to do was keep on running and get there . . .

They say three times is the charm, and that was exactly what happened with Troopmon's persistent charging. Elliot thought he was home-free once he had climbed the stairs, but before he knew it the very blobby Troopmon was hot on his tail. Isaac frantically poked his back, asking "Turn me, turn me, turn me!" as its approach hastened.

"I'm on the stairs!" he protested.

"Just do it! You gotta!" Isaac demanded, a few drips of black getting dangerously close to his costume.

Sighing, Elliot hopped around in place, a quick sprint up the stairs now reduced to running up the stairs backwards. He was a lot slower now, and his chances at getting up the stairs before Troopmon could reach him were slim to none. He looked over his shoulder, warning Isaac
"This is gonna get a little messy. Get behind me!" as he did so. Isaac nodded, making himself as slim and small as possible behind Elliot's back. Elliot, on the other hand, stood as widely as possible. He hunkered down like a linebacker, waiting for Troopmon to approach.

The collision sent Elliot and Isaac sprawling back, pressed against the back of the stairs. Elliot's front side was completely covered in messy black goop, and while Isaac was uncovered he started scrambling away from his little bro as quickly as possible. He took a few quick, panicked breaths, checking every inch of his costume to make sure it was untouched. He sighed in relief as he realized it wasn't the case, only to pop up and start dusting himself off from his contact with the stairs.

Elliot wasn't so lucky. He was covered from head to toe in complete blackness, blinking at Isaac. "We're not doing that anymore," he complained, wrinkling a little in disgust as he realized he was tasting Troopmon goo.

"You're right. I'd get all dirty touching you, too. And there were two rooms on the third floor, right?"

"So you're saying we should split up?" Isaac nodded in response. "Alrighty. Scream really loud if you need a hand, okay?"

Upon reaching the third floor, the bros went their separate ways. Maybe Isaac was biased due to having a cute art nerd of a girlfriend, but he immediately made a beeline for the art room. The scraping noises made him want to reconsider, but he wasn't going to risk leaving a stone unturned. Elliot, on the other hand, decided to check out the music room. The static kept him on edge, and he made sure to keep his guard up as he gently pried the door open.

If they could take out all the other rooms this efficiently, reaching the theater would be no problem!

Isaac's push was a lot more cautious than Elliot's. This was probably because Isaac was small, vulnerable, and refusing to Digivolve, while Elliot was currently Beefcakeasaurus Rex. Isaac swore a little under his breath as he realized that he was making more noise in the process, while Elliot simply cringed at the initial loud squeak before benefiting from relative silence. One brother picked security while the other picked subtlety, it seemed, even if their results were the opposite of what they might have expected.

Isaac found an art nerd hard at work, but sadly it wasn't the one he would've hoped to bump into. However, it was definitely quite the confusing one. What the heck kind of Digimon was this? It was just a pencil! A pencil made of more pencils! Usually Digimon looked a little bit less ridiculous, didn't they? Nevertheless, he made a mental note not to piss it off. Maybe he could peek at what it was working on later, but that'd be reserved for when he started exiting the room. That's because there was something way more important to focus on now.

Namely, Matadormon and his box. The huddled demon didn't seem to notice him, or anything really, but the scraping sound of his claws was quite unnerving. Isaac cringed every time he heard the earsplitting sound, wishing that he could be dealing with anything but that. It was big. It was fearsome. And he could already imagine its sharp, sharp claws tearing right through his costume. And, you know, his flesh. That'd suck too. Judging by the loud noise he made it'd be looking right at him, too, which would quite naturally cause Isaac to freeze up in his tracks. He wanted that box bad, but at the same time he wouldn't want to get impaled. Maybe if he waited long enough, it would turn its attention away.

And so that became the plan. See what Matadormon would do, and advance from there. If it diverted its focus he would start to advance, making sure to make little noise or fuss in the process. If it held its focus he would wait for at least thirty seconds, then start an absolutely glacial advance toward the box. His steps, already slow and shuffling to avoid tearing his tights, would become almost hilariously small slides. And if at any second Matadormon got up, as if to start advancing? He would run like hell.

Elliot's room had a lot less to deal with. He shook himself dry as he stepped into the music room, taking great care not to step onto the instruments. This meant he would be in for one heck of a time, walking on his tiptoes and constantly flinging out his arms and tail to try and help catch his balance. It sure was a good thing he had that tail, or he would've been a goner here! Clumsily yet surely he began advancing forward, making his way toward the boombox in the center of the room. It had to be valuable for something, right? Upon reaching that boombox he began fiddling with the controls, trying to find any combination that worked. He put in a few traditional choices, plus a few more season relevant choices. Like 31, because Halloween. Or 666, also because Halloween.

If none of his fiddling actually worked, he'd make his way over to the wall and unplug the darn thing. The static was really starting to hurt his head!

The Matadormon's outburst, to be blunt, scared the shit out of Isaac. If it wasn't for the fact that the Matadormon dropped its anger as quickly as it flared up, Isaac would've scampered out of the door like a quick little bunny. However, the fact that its frustration subsiding meant it dropped its focus started to give Isaac an idea. If there was a problem, all he'd need to do is find a distraction and try and get the heat off of him. Once Matadormon was left seeing red, he'd potentially be able to lay low and avoid its ire. It was a risky plan, but perhaps it'd work.

A shame such a plan revolved around him bullfighting with a matador.

Then the noise started up, and Isaac strained trying to listen to the sound. It was hard to, the vicious grinding of Matador's claws against the wall rending his ears. His approach toward Matadormon slowed slightly, as if afraid of being caught in the crossfire, but as he saw how single-minded Matadormon's focus was he quickly redoubled his advance. As he got closer, so too did the sound, and Isaac was able to hear a few scattered sounds between the ear-splitting scratches.

"sharp . . . in front . . . none suspect . . . creeping up from behind . . ."

Isaac wasn't superstitious, but as a theater aficionado he knew a good atmosphere when he heard one. And this right here? That was some chilling atmosphere. In fact, Isaac got so into the mood that he found himself unconsciously following along, warily peeking over his shoulder at the mention of danger behind him. It may not have been creeping, but with a flick of Ekakimon's wrist Isaac knew some sort of troublesome attack was coming his way. Combining his goals of not dying and seizing the present, he made a panicked snap decision to fling himself toward the desk and make a grab for the present. Even if he'd be left stumbling onto it for a second, at least he would've dodged while still getting his hands on his goal.

Of course, Isaac might not have liked what he'd find facing him.

After all, the boombox sounds that had been his lifeline were swiftly coming to an end. Elliot, hearing the scratching sounds of the Matadormon from the other side of the wall, was filled with an all-consuming sense of dread. He could only imagine a horde of zombies on the other side of the wall, smashing, crashing, and bashing at it in their attempts at getting to his soft, edible flesh. Was he going to let that happen? Hell no! The second the boombox went back to static Elliot decided he was not going to fish for any more messages. Instead he made a break for the outlet, yanking it out triumphantly and bringing its static noises to a halt. With that done he leaned against the wall, smiling contently. If only he realized what a horrible fate he had left his brother to.