Take the Hit

Now that we're moving to the tail end of the "Never-ending Party" arc, I'll explain the background of this story. Just like the previous Patreon run that involved Pumpkin, this too is based on actual events (and obviously tweaked to fit the in-universe characters.)

So over a decade ago I lived in an apartment with two roommates (I actually model the girls apartment and interior around this location.) My ex-roommates were both great out-going guys, and also in college. Mix those two things together, and you have a home life that involves numerous impromptu parties featuring loads of people you've never met, nor would probably care to. These guys had some part time gigs while they went to college, but never worked the 60+ hours and late nights I did at the time. So there was many an evening I'd come home to a very loud, and very crowded, three bedroom apartment. One time literally stopping two randos from having sex in my unattended bedroom. My mates were usually too 'zozzled' to notice things like this.

During one particular party, I abstained from drinking, which was semi-common. I'm really just not much of a drinker, though I would occasionally join in if I didn't have a ten hour work day ahead of me. One of my old high school classmates is there with her friends drinking on the couch, and after several hours, is completely trashed. One of my roommates has already absconded to his bedroom with his live-in girlfriend (the 4th tenant no one asked for) and the other is totally incoherent. Unfortunately for my high school friend, her pals have already abandoned the party, leaving her to yammer on to whomever is sitting next to her. At this point in the evening I'm basically making sure stuff isn't getting stolen and people are slowly leaving. I'm on my own in the middle of Animal House with complete strangers. I've already lost about 30 DVDs and a Playstation 2 by this point and don't intend to lose anything more.

This is when one sorority girl brings to my attention there is some guy completely man-handling my high school acquaintance and forcing more beer down her throat. I head into the living room to see exactly this on the sofa. She's in limp-wristed protest against "Stalker Pro," who is cramming a red solo against her mouth, convincing her she wants this. Stalker Pro is also someone I had several high school classes with. These two very loosely know each other. Or maybe only 'know of' each other. A second sorority sister is physically pushing him off of her and trying to lift her up, telling her its time she goes home, and rightly so. She then shouts in inquiry if anyone knows "this girl." No one else replies as Stalker Pro disappears into the remaining crowd. I tell them I do, but not incredibly well. I tell them unfortunately I don't know where she lives, and anyone who does has either passed out or left. I don't have their cell numbers. The two sorority girls concede that they'll have to "figure it out" en-route to where ever she lives.

About an hour passes and I hear a knock on the door. Only about 5 people are lurking the apartment interior by now, and it's still up to me to take any semblance of civility by answering the door. Low and behold, it's our two female assassins with "Quinn" passed out between their arms. They inform me they couldn't get enough coherent information out of her to find where she lived, and on the way, were very obviously being followed. I asked for more information and I was told "We drove in circles for thirty minutes in the same housing complex. And the same headlights followed us for every single turn. We thought about taking her to the cops, but it was quicker to come back here. I don't know who that guy was before, but I guarantee it was him. I don't know what he'd do if we stopped or drove further out.  I think she should just sleep it off here.. but you need to lock this door."

So I did.
The remaining party members wished my single roommate a farewell on his birthday, as he lay strewn out across his bed. What I hadn't realized, as I myself am starting to wind down, is he mustered enough strength to see them out the door. He left it unlocked, and resigned back to his bedroom to sleep.

So by now I've showered, and everyone is asleep. Roommates behind locked bedroom doors. 'Quinn' on one of our four mismatched couches. Complete silence in the dark. I decide I'd rather clean up a bit now, rather than later, and head out to the porch through the sliding glass window. I really don't need the ladlord seeing our patio covered in trash. I pick up an entire Hefty bag full of garbage in the moonlight before I sit back in one of our fold out chairs. I contemplate having a nice discussion on the topic of 'those desiring to hold parties need to take some responsibility for them.' It's in this moment I happen to turn around and look back in through the glass. I see some very odd shadows moving in the darkness. It takes me several moments to realize Stalker Pro has returned. He's looming over 'Quinn' stroking her back.

The sliding glass door makes an audible boom as I open it on reentrance. Stalker Pro is mid-sentence trying to convince 'Quinn' she should go home with him. The assassins were right. He's been following her, waiting until she was alone and vulnerable.

Now this guy works out. He's not as lanky as I show him in the comics. He's got a good 50 lbs on me, and I have no back up. Getting into a physical altercation is not ideal with this guy. He's already proven to be an unmitigated assbag, and invulnerable to the term "No." I honestly don't know how far he wants to take this. What I do know is he's on a path of some evil shit he can't take back. So I just have to outplay him.

"Party's over dude." I say in my outdoor voice.
"She really needs a ride home."
"She's fine! She's sleeping it off," my tone increases.
"Dude it's not a problem."
"HEY PHIL, WILL'S BACK AND WANTS TO WISH YOU A HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
-faintly from behind his door "whua..?"
"HEY PHIL, WILL WANTS TO TAKE OUR FRIEND HOME BUT I DUNNOOOOO... SHE'S REALLY DRUNK AND PASSED OUT. I THINK SHE MIGHT BE BETTER HERE. HEY STEVE. NICOLE. WHAT DO YOU GUYS THINK??"

(I'm seriously about two seconds away from pots and pans.)

"Go home, Will," Phil mumbles as he slumps out of bed. He goes to the couch, nudges our female friend, and tells her to take his bed. She faintly obliges and staggers in. "Lock the door." he tells her, as we soon hear a click. Steve opens his door in a less subdued manner "THE FUCK IS THIS NOISE? I WANNA FUCKING SLEEP!"

Stalker Pro leaves. I never see him again.
And no one remembers this even happened.

What they do remember however.. is what happens next.