Anti drags his hand along anything in the room that might have electricity in it, gaining power, but the place is so old and decrepit that there are only trace amounts of electricity left. He tries to save his glitches for when he really needs them because he’s too weak to do many.
Google’s joints bend at horrendous–and most definitely not human–angles so that he can crawl on all fours after Anti at a maddening speed. Anti narrowly dodges getting tackled and breaks into the hallway as quickly as his feet will carry him. But Google is already in the hallway after him, right on his heels.
Anti glitches to the end of the hallway where the elevator sits idle, but there’s not enough power to get it on and open. And he’s too weak to glitch through the doors. Anti turns, pressing his back to the metal and pleads with Google to recognize him.
“Please, Blue, it’s me! It’s Anti!”
Just as Google pounces there’s a volley of gunshots that catch him in the side, and Google tumbles to the ground, howling and leaking oil. He limps away still wailing back into the office, and Anti almost wants to chase after him to make sure he’s ok. But then Wilford grabs him by his collar and hauls him over so that they’re face to face.
“Well, well, well,” Wilford growls, mustache and hair nearly faded of all color, “if it isn’t the glitch. I didn’t think you’d ever come back.”
Anti has to find another triangle spot, and the Host and the Googles have to keep trying to tune in!
Published
A Glitch Named Anti 