What's an Imitator? #2
"I need to know something," I requested.
"What do you need?" Sergei responded, lifting something mangled and sending it spiraling into the abyss.
"Is there anything the victims had in common?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the Imitator exists in Playerkill Gorge yet randomly attacks Goblinsville; maybe the victims pissed it off," I concluded, distracted by the sounds of Greatwurms in heat. Staring into the chasm, we were to dispose of the dead at the edge of the known world.
"Wait, there are at least two of them?"
"I don't have any proof." I shrugged sheepishly.
"What have you got, then?"
"Well, I got nothing unless we can observe one up close."
"An Imitator?" Sergei gasped.
"No, an enemy mob," I pointed down below.
"Villager's art, lucky sixes." Sergei sighed unwillingly. He shot a flaming dice into the chasm. Nothing happened.
"Hmm.. you missed," I observed
"Wait and see." Sergei ducked for cover. A Greatwurm rose from the depths like a raging erection, thrashing into the sides of the canyon, occasionally clipping into it. When it did, the terrain glitched and fizzled like a movie on a broken projector. A tinnitus-inducing goosely screech mixed with the horny Greatwurm roar, increasing in frequency until the beast exploded, sending chunks of its flesh everywhere.
After a shocked silence, Sergei whispered, "I've never seen that before."
"Tell me, is Playerkill on the edge of the goddamn world map?" I asked.
"If I recall correctly, yes."
"Did the Imitator emit the same light when it jumped our asses?"
"Holy shit, yeah, it did. Wait a fucking minute!" Sergei scratched his bald head, brainstorming from his years of expertise in eating donuts and giving speeding tickets.
I paced nervously and frantically, putting facts together. The world seemed tiny when I was on the surface, but the underworld seemed too expansive for its good. Somebody fucked up. Because there were limits on the hardware.
No, I was wrong. Like a child with a participation trophy, the Imitator had a place here.