The First to Fall
The game room was the St. Peters' Survivors Club's meeting room. Fantine landed on top of a barstool.
"Has Gordon been... satisfied?" Asimov asked.
"Well, yeah, the lawn's nice and short." Fantine laughed. She paused. "And there's a few weird mud tracks in the garage." Fantine wriggled her cord.
Asimov glanced at Igor. The old ceiling lamp unfroze.
"Why don't you take a look?" Igor asked.
Asimov nodded. "Okay, Fantine. Take me to the spot."
Asimov left the pool table and followed the small fan.
Batter, a waffle iron, sat on a leather sofa.
"Sure hope we don't have snakes," he said.
"Or something worse," Mish-mash added.
Debbie tossed a Clorox wipe into the trash can.
Aether tossed his in the trash can afterwards. "Levi, next time, hold still while I'm getting the mud off your wheels."
Levi snorted.
"Next time, let's check for mud." Debbie looked around the kitchen for an appropriate target.
She climbed up the drawers towards the kitchen counter. A single appliance sat on it.
"Ew, what are you?" a small chrome toaster asked.
Debbie paused. "I'm... just... lost?" She smiled.
"Well, I don't think Master let you in. I'm Marmalade."
Debbie paused, trying to think of a good time to strike.
Asimov sat at the edge of the track. He turned his light bulb on.
"That is... peculiar."
Debbie slithered closer to Marmalade, a blade fitted into her nose.
"Wait, what are you doing?"
"Last words?" Debbie sneered.
Debbie knocked Marmalade off the counter where her three accomplices were waiting.
Asimov and Fantine paused. There was a scream.
"That sounds like it came from the kitchen." Asimov said.
"Marmalade?" Fantine asked.
Debbie ducked into the cereal cabinet once the deed was done. The other three hid elsewhere.