The morning began with Edd’s voice echoing through the house like a foghorn. “GUYS! Who left a chainsaw in the kitchen again?!”
You groaned from the couch, half-buried under a blanket. Tom was snoring upside down on the armrest, Matt was brushing his reflection in a toaster, and Tord was leaning on the wall watching the chaos like it was his favorite morning show.
“Relax, Edd,” Tord muttered, flicking ash into a coffee mug. “Maybe the chainsaw was hungry.”
Edd glared. “That’s not even funny! It was ON, Tord. It carved the word BORK into my counter!”
Tord gave a lazy shrug. “Then maybe the chainsaw has a sense of humor.”
You couldn’t help it—you snorted. “He’s got a point.”
Edd sighed, rubbing his temples. “I swear, one day you’re all going to destroy this house.”
Tom stirred, still half-asleep. “Too late for that, mate,” he mumbled, as a ceiling tile quietly fell behind him.
But before Edd could start another lecture, Matt burst through the living room, waving a crumpled map like a man possessed. “GUYS! I found this behind the couch!”
“Matt, that’s a pizza menu,” Tom said flatly.
Matt flipped it around dramatically. “NO! On the back—it’s a map to the Lost Arcade of West Harlington! Legend says there’s an old game machine there that gives real money instead of tickets!”
Tord’s eyes lit up instantly. “Money, huh?” His grin was pure mischief. “Finally, something worth my time.”
You stretched, tossing off your blanket. “Count me in. I could use some cash after Edd banned me from selling the toaster.”
Edd crossed his arms. “Because you nearly sold Matt’s reflection with it!”
And just like that, the plan was made. Five idiots, one sketchy map, and zero adult supervision.
“Seriously, Tord,” Edd said, white-knuckling the wheel. “Did you have to bring the bazooka?” “It’s for protection,” Tord replied, loading it casually.
By the time you reached the abandoned arcade, the sun was setting, casting the broken building in a deep, amber glow. The old neon sign buzzed weakly: PLAY TO WIN.
Matt screamed at a shadow (it was his own), Tom found a half-full bottle of soda from 1999 and drank it anyway
“Tastes vintage,” he said and Edd was trying to calculate how much this field trip was going to cost him in repairs.
You, meanwhile, followed Tord deeper inside. Dust floated like ghosts in the dim light, machines dead and silent. But then—one flickered to life in the corner. Its cracked screen displayed a name in red letters: DIRTY CASH.
“Looks like it’s still running,” you said, stepping closer.
You pressed a button. Nothing. The machine stayed lifeless. Tord stared at it, exhaled a puff of smoke, and then kicked it. Hard.
Suddenly, the screen blazed to life. A robotic voice boomed through the room: “INSERT COIN TO UNLOCK REWARD.”
Tom tossed in a penny with a sarcastic bow. The machine buzzed, sputtered—then exploded in a shower of coins and static.
You ducked as quarters rained down like metal fireworks. Matt shrieked with joy, Edd yelled about property damage, Tom shielded his drink, and Tord just laughed—that rough, genuine laugh you hadn’t heard in a long time.
“Looks like I hit the jackpot,” he said, brushing a coin off your shoulder.
“You’re impossible,” you snickered.
“Yeah,” he said, lighting another cigarette. “That’s why life’s never boring with me.”
And somehow, surrounded by broken glass, smoke, and friends screaming about loot, you had to agree.
But then—the lights flickered again. The arcade machines hummed back to life, all of them displaying the same message: PLAYER ONE HAS BEEN CHOSEN.
You turned slowly. Tord’s smirk faded just a little. “Okay… maybe I did break something important.”
Edd groaned. “Oh great, it’s haunted! Again!”
As the floor began to vibrate and the air filled with static, Tord gripped his bazooka and grinned at you sideways. “Well,” he said, voice low with excitement, “ready for round two?”
You met his gaze, heartbeat quickening “With you? Always”
The neon flickered, the machines screamed to life, and the adventure was just beginning—chaotic, dangerous
Duo of old times