Next installment. The whole gang goes kinda durpy. Whoopee.


It was six thirty in the morning. The sun was low in the sky, the dew still wet on the grass. Birds chirped and flew in the air and aimed for the cars.

Bourbon sat complacently by the riverbank picnic table, munching on peanut butter and blueberry jam sandwiches. The wet grass tickled his ankles as he sat, reminiscing about his childhood when he felt a large, menacing presence behind him. He calmly turned around and found Gin with bed sheets wrapped around his waist.

"Have you seen my pants?" Gin growled grumpily.

"No, I have not spotted your clothing along this riverbank on this fine morning," Bourbon responded. "Nice shirt, by the way."

Gin looked down. It said, "Regenerate and Carry On," which was some cheesy Doctor Who reference that Vermy bought him one day. He had no clue as to why he was wearing it. He should probably throw it out.

Gin left Bourbon by the riverbank to let him eat his peanut butter and blueberry jam sandwiches and reminisce about whatever pitiful childhood he had. He trudged along the wide lawn, hoping that the author would find a better plot line next time instead of some cheesy thing were he had to find his pants. How annoying.

Gin yawned as he entered the Black Org HQ/Mansion/Hideout/Whatever. He was beginning to feel like the story was becoming utter BS. Suddenly, Korn appeared next to him, which was a surprise because he rarely came out of the basement.

"I'm not a conspiracy theorist or anything," Korn began, "But if you take the word "Illuminati" it's actually an anagram for the word "Illuminati"."

Gin stared.

"Is this what you ponder about in your dark dingy hole underground?"

"Why yes of course my dear friend."

"Then why don't you gO BACK DOWN THERE AND STAY THERE. I HATE THIS STORY. FINISH IT NOW GODDAMN IT. IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY AND I'M GETTING PRETTY FRUSTRATED AT MY LACK OF HUMOR."

Gin blinked.

"Wait. Wait hold on. My lack of humor? No, no no no no. This isn't my lack of humor. It's this damn author right here trying to use me as a scapego-"

Vermy appeared at the door.

"Would anyone care for some tea and crumpets?"

~XXX()XXX~

Vodka yawned. He just finished the most recent episode of Game of Thrones and now he didn't know what to do with his life. Oh wait, he already sold his soul to tumblr, so it didn't matter. Might I mention he has eighty thousand followers? He booted up his computer and began working on a gif set while re-blogging countless others. What an interesting life.

Gin stumbled into the room, a bed sheet wrapped around him.

"Did you uh, happen to spot a pair of pants around here?" Gin asked sleepily.

"Well, you could always check Vermouth's underwear drawer-hey, what's going on...!? Gin!?"

Gin had collapsed onto the floor. Vodka stared at his unconscious friend.

"Uh...guys? We have a situation..."

~XXX()XXX~

Chianti stood on the rooftop, giggling, a pair of pants in her hand.

"What genius I am! Surely Gin would fall for me now! Once he realizes how beautiful and charming and...oh wait, why do I have his pants? All I did was put a sedative in his tea...oh well. He'll probably come looking up here anyways for his pants. Stupid author probably put them in my hands."

Chianti stared out at the riverbank, the slight breeze kissing her cheeks as she dreamily stared into empty space.

"If only Gin had a sense of humor," Chianti said, sighing. "Maybe our organization would be a better family. Maybe we wouldn't kill so much people or participate in such illegal activities. Maybe we could actually go on a date..."

~XXX()XXX~

Korn appeared by Vodka's side with some dark and shady-looking utensils. They looked like sticks with skulls and bones and stuff.

"Don't worry, if anything happens, I can perform an exorcism," Korn said.

"Uh..." Vodka couldn't really reply. His mind was geared towards tumblr, anyways. Maybe he could take a picture of Vodka performing an exorcism and post it on tumblr. He could get a whole bunch more followers.

"Here," Korn said, sitting down in front of him. "With I'm about to do, Gin will have the Dream Gods visit him in this unconscious state. What happens next, I do not know. The gods may take him to his death, or return him to this world. Let us hope for the best."

Vodka stared. He had not heard Vodka say so much at once before.

But he remembered to take a picture of him with his utensils.

~XXX()XXX~

Gin was sitting in a dark alleyway. Except it wasn't a dark alleyway. He was in a storage closet of an airship. He didn't know how he knew that. He just did.

Gin walked out of the closet and into a nicely carpeted hallway. It had fancy, bright lamps and doors that presumably led to the passenger rooms. It gave off a homely vibe.

He walked to the nearest one and kicked the door open.

He faced Death.

It was a dark room, covered in cobwebs, dust, and spidery thingies. Too small to tell what they were.

"What brings you here, my dear child?" Death asked, looking up from his desk. His reaper leaned against a closet filled with dead bodies. He didn't have a bed. Probably because Death doesn't sleep.

"Dunno. Just kicked down the nearest door in frustration," Gin responded.

"Good choice," Death said. "The other rooms are pretty bad. I heard that one of had a huge staircase to heaven, ugh. Anyways, what's your name? Gin? Yeah, okay, you're not due until another like fifty years or something. Go. Leave. Shoo-shoo."

"Uh...how do I get out?" Gin asked.

"I presume you came from the storage closet? Well, get back into the hallway, and go the opposite way you came from. Take the staircase until you reach the fourth floor, follow the arrows until you get to the cockpit. Talk to the captain, and he'll throw you out the window. You'll fall back to where you fell unconscious or however else you came here."

"Oh...uh...okay then..." Gin quickly ran out the room. The dead bodies in the closet creeped him out.

He dashed down the staircase until level four. He ran around the maze of hallways, similarly decorated as the first. He didn't meet anyone. Finally, he arrived at the cockpit.

He saw Kaito Kid steering the blimp.

"Uh...Hi..." Gin stammered, shocked at seeing some teenage thief dude steering the ship.

"Hey," Kid said. "I'm God. What brings you here?"

"Well I kinda need to get back to Black Org HQ/Mansion/Hideout/Whatever." Gin responded.

"Aight man. Imma toss ya out dis window right here aight? #420 blaze it fo dayze-"

Gin cut him off.

"Just get me back to were I need to be already!"

Kaito Kid, or God, quickly picked him up and threw him out the window.

Gin fell through the sky, down towards the deep blue ocean, wondering what the heck he was doing. He began to feel chilly and he needed to pee. He suddenly passed through a cloud-

and found himself lying down in his room, staring at Korn holding some bone-things with skulls on them.

~XXX()XXX~

Gin and Chianti were together at a restaurant situated by a pristine lake, a slight breeze passing through their faces, bright sunshine over head, with a super hot waiter that served them food.

Chianti broke out of her reverie as she felt a dark, menacing presence behind her. It was Anokata.

Except...Anokata didn't exist. It was just a name assigned to the unknown gang member, a symbol, a literal black shadow with no face, name, or entity.

It was Gin.

"Give me my pants," Gin growled.

"Not until you give me what I want," Chianti said.

"Well, what the heck do you want?" Gin asked, teeth clenched.

"Um. Uh...um...a...uh...I want a new motorcycle."

(At this point, the audience facepalms.)

"Sure, now give me my pants." Gin said.

He reached over, put Chianti pulled the pants away from him.

"What the hell!? You can get the motorcycle! Give me my pants! ROAR!"

Gin blinked.

"Did-did I just say..."Roar"!?"

Chianti nodded, giggling.

"You just said something incredibly childish and kawaii. Good job! You can have your pants back."

Gin took his pants.

"Oh...uh...okay...thanks?" Gin accepted the pants awkwardly.

"No problem. I think that breaking out of your shell was pretty cute, actually. You're a really kawaii person on the inside," Chianti said.

Gin fumed as he stomped off.

(Le fin. Audience stops reading this, confused.)