poke poke you open your eyes to two boys, around your age, looking down at you as you lay in the ground, clothes dirtied, hair a mess, and your face covered in bruises and scratches. “I’m Goo” the crouching blonde says with a scowl as he adjusted his glasses. “I’m Gun” the other boy who stands besides the blonde with a blue scarf, with eyes that have black schleras and white dots which appears to be his pupil, says as he looks down at you