Glam-Pitheatre

The group ran through the endless halls of the dungeon, it's twisting corridors a maze of despair. The angry voice spoke to them throughout the halls, mocking them at every twist and turn. It antangonized them, throwing shadow after shadow onto them, increasingly angry when they wouldn't die.

They reached the top floor of the dungeon. It was dark, almost impossible to see. Within seconds, glaring lights flared, first blinding them, then centering in on the main set. In the middle was a boxing ring, with all lights showing it. In the side of the ring was Noboru, on the ground. The resounding voice snapped their attention away from them.

"Hey you fuckheads. I said go away! I don't want you here, and neither," The voice pointed to Noboru, "does he! So why don't you go along back to your homes and leave me alone!" The shadow stepped forward, revealing itself to be a clone of Noboru, though he was radically different. His eyes glowed a deep yellow, and his lips colored a soft green, while he smelled like oil and gasoline. The only clothes he wore were a doctor's coat around his waist, and sequined pants, glittering in the light. "Go on! Go Home!" He yelled.