Dear readers! It came to my attention that some typos are present in earlier chapters. Those were not intentional and I have no f*cking clue how to correct them. Thank you.

Chapter 12 – Pumped Up Cakes

No patrolling forces were seen around the cafeteria, which calmed Miles a bit. The cake was positioned on a table in the middle of the room. Wernicke stationed beside him and quietly gave orders. "You must prepare for anything, Mr. Upshur. Blaire and his accomplices are capable of any measure to keep you from obtaining the cake since it constitutes a major part of Blaire's evil plan. Unimane volume gratifier has been funnelled into it to ensure the "success" of this wedding party and gain the financial support of business executives. But with a slice of cake, we will be able to switch the balance. After we fed it to the Walrider, he will be lovestruck and keep Mr. Gluskin occupied. Now go."

Miles briskly picked his way through the tables in the cafeteria, carefully watching left and right. He was conscious of that the entire situation came of as a setup, but he was short on other possibilities. Time of conveniences was up, sadly; the butcher trio waltzed into the canteen as soon as he crossed an invisible line a couple of metres before the cake. Miles broke sweat upon seeing his dreaded enemies: Trager, Manera and Walker victoriously approached him with clenched fists and brandishing weapons.

"Who wants to have the first piece?" Trager roared exuberantly. Miles attempted at preserving his cocky attitude, so he disinterestedly snapped back the following. "You mean the cake or me, buddy?"

"Poser!" snarled Walker. "I can sense your little piggish fear!"

"With what?" Miles could not stop yammering for his life. "Your face is kinda disfigured."

"Joke's on you, your mamma will say the same thing!" Manera excitedly yelled.

Hardly had Miles begun to pray for his life when an obnoxious female voice echoed from the exact spot Miles left Wernicke. "Final destruction initiating in 30 seconds. 30…". The old man cried out, shocked. "I told Blaire not to build this thing into the wheelchair! Son of a dirty liar!".

Miles exhausted this last chance to snatch the cake and run away with it. What he could not see, though, is that a cunningly placed bottle got in the way of his feet. He lost his steadiness and consequently, the cake splatted on the ground. Multiple screams resonated in the hall of the canteen (presumably Miles' and Wernicke's). And to worsen matters, Walker planted his body on the miserable remains of the cake and started stuffing his facehole with it. The weary videographer was on the edge after watching the giant man feasting on Waylon's very last opportunity to free himself from Gluskin's grip. Trager and Manera shouted bolstering chants to help Walker devour the yummy treat.

"23…22…21" the voice of the woman dictated.

"Yee-haw, Walker! Eat the whole stuff, buddy!" Trager and Manera continued.

"Rot in hell, Blaire!" cursed Wernicke, still unable to leave the chair of impending doom.

Miles ducked under a table and started rocking himself. He felt tipped over, betrayed and lost. Is this the way it supposed to end? His friend's life and his carrier as well? If he ever escapes this place, he will never-ever be able to stand the sight of a wedding cake again, so goodbye, videographing. Goodbye Waylon…

The countdown reached 10 when he regained his composure, thanks to an inexplicable sensation tingling in his skin and brain. A certain buzz.

The next seconds went down quite notoriously. A cloud of black thingamajigs (Miles could not see what they were) stormed into the room and supposedly looked at the bastard Walker, who was munching like a pig. The cloud let out a frightening screech and glided to the crouching man. Miles got up and watched the scene with great anticipation, but the Walrider –of course it was the Walrider! – failed to live up to his expectations. Instead of tearing apart all of the foes and raining blood shower on the room, he sorrowfully squealed again and again and tossed Walker behind to scoop up the leftovers of the cake, hammering it into himself.

"The power of the unimane volume gratifier compels you, Walrider!" Wernicke bellowed mightily. He crawled along the walls to distance himself from the bomb. Walker and the others stood fazed.

Miles knew what he had to do. He sprinted to the exit of the canteen at the top of his speed and cried. "THEY ARE EATING YOUR CAKE, GLUSKIN!"