"Fast! Row! Row with everything you've got!" Bianca screamed the order to her teammates, her voice sharp and piercing with excitement. "They're out of ammo! Charge onto Crow Island! We still have a chance!"
"the golden beetle" was like it had been injected with a final shot of adrenaline. Every team member exploded with their survival potential, their wooden oars moving so fast they almost left afterimages.
The boat surged at an unprecedented speed toward Crow Island, the eerie place in the center of the lake covered in jagged, misshapen rocks.
As long as she was the first to step onto the island, trek to the center, pull up the flag representing victory, and then return by canoe... victory would still belong to her, Bianca Barclay!
The other boats were doing the same.
"Wednesday," Victor tilted his head, watching the little yellow boat ahead sprinting as if it had been given a shot of adrenaline, his tone carrying a hint of confusion and regret. "Why won't you let us keep throwing? It seems like Venom still has a few left at the bottom of his stomach."
Venom squirmed cooperatively and let out a gurgle, indicating that there was indeed a surplus in stock.
Wednesday stood at the stern, her black skirt and hair fluttering in the lake breeze. She watched Bianca's retreating back as she exhausted her last bit of strength to flee, her lips curling very slowly into a cold, amused arc.
The meaning contained in that arc sent a fresh chill even through Victor, who was familiar with her style.
"If we blow them up now," Wednesday's voice was flat, yet carried a cat-and-mouse sort of playfulness, "what will we have left to blow up when they're coming back from the island, holding the flag and full of hope?"
A brief silence followed.
Then—
"Heh heh heh..."
"Hahaha!"
Victor and Venom looked at each other and simultaneously burst into a knowing, wicked-to-the-core laugh. The laughter sounded exceptionally creepy over the suddenly quiet lake.
Victor slapped his thigh hard, his bells jingling. "Brilliant! Simply brilliant! Captain! This move is too poisonous! I love it!"
Venom licked his teeth excitedly. "Let hope swell first... then 'pop,' blow it all up! This taste is more delicious than eating chocolate directly!"
Enid held her oar and looked at her three teammates, whose faces were all beaming with the same dark, excited smiles, and she silently shuddered.
She suddenly felt that she often seemed out of place with them because she wasn't twisted enough.
The "black cat" no longer pressed close. Instead, like a predator that had lost interest, it followed toward Crow Island unhurriedly, maintaining an unsettling distance.
They were like an escort for prisoners to an execution ground, waiting silently and expectantly for the prey to personally deliver their sweetest moment of despair.
This brief tranquility was more suffocating than the continuous explosions from before.
The black cat followed the other surviving canoes to the shore, the bottom of the boat scraping against the rough sand and gravel with a harsh sound.
The contestants who had reached the island first were supporting each other, slumped on the shore and panting in shock.
As soon as they saw the black cat approaching, especially the three figures on board plus a black one, they reacted like rabbits seeing a big bad wolf. They instantly sprang up and scrambled to hide far away, huddling together with eyes full of primal fear.
Wednesday and Victor jumped off the boat almost simultaneously.
"I'll go get the flag," Wednesday said succinctly, her gaze already locked onto the small path leading to the center of the island.
"I'll go add some 'fun' and difficulty to the other contestants' cross-country trek." Victor and Venom shared a knowing, wicked grin, their eyes flashing with eagerness.
"Alright," Enid sighed somewhat helplessly, clutching her oar. "Then I'll just have to wait for you on the boat. I'll watch our boat while I'm at it, so some idiot doesn't come over to cause trouble."
"Oh! Right!" Victor seemed to suddenly remember something. He spun around and thrust his hand directly into Venom's viscous body to rummage around.
Venom squirmed cooperatively, making a gurgling sound.
A second later, Victor actually pulled out a golden, exaggeratedly styled Desert Eagle pistol that was full of violent aesthetics!
"Take this for self-defense, one of my favorites!" Victor enthusiastically shoved the heavy pistol into Enid's hand, his tone as light as if he were giving her a cute stuffed toy.
"If some idiot dares to bully you or tries to sabotage our boat, just take this and go 'pew pew pew' at them! It's simple and easy to use!"
Enid looked at the cold, heavy metal creation in her hand that could easily take a life and stammered, "T-this isn't right, is it? It's a bit too..."
"Oh!" Victor slapped his head in realization. "My mistake! This 'Gold Luxury Edition' is indeed too tacky. It probably doesn't fit your cute and cool aesthetic!"
As he spoke, he snatched the Golden Desert Eagle back with lightning speed, stuffed it back into Venom's body, and immediately pulled out another one—
A Desert Eagle that was pink all over and even had shiny rhinestones plastered all over the grip!
"This is the one for you!" Victor triumphantly shoved the pink pistol back to Enid, who was now completely petrified.
"I loved this one most when I was a kid! I used to sleep holding it; it made me feel especially safe! It's a perfect match for you! Both sweet and cool!"
He leaned in closer and lowered his voice as if sharing a secret tip: "Oh, by the way, I've already flipped the safety off for you. Just use it directly, don't be shy!"
Enid felt like her brain had crashed. She could only stiffly hold that heavy, stylistically schizophrenic pink weapon of destruction and instinctively mutter, "Th-thank you..."
Not far away, the contestants left behind on the other boats witnessed this terrifying "weapon gifting" session from start to finish. One by one, they stared at Victor with the horrified looks one might give an international arms dealer.
Is this guy... really a freaking student?! What kind of decent person carries this stuff around, let alone in different colors and styles?!
Wednesday seemed long accustomed to this, or rather, she couldn't be bothered to care.
She just gave Victor a faint glance: "Let's go."
"Coming, coming!" Victor followed with a grin, and Venom shrank back into his body.
One after the other, they quickly headed into the depths of the island.
They were extremely fast, and their figures soon disappeared behind the thick, twisted trees.
The shore was silent, with only the sound of the lake water lapping against the bank.
Faintly, their intermittent conversation drifted from the island with the wind.
It was Wednesday's cool voice: "Can you get me a Benelli M4?"
Then came Victor's smiling, unhesitating reply: "Oh~ good taste, Captain! When this race is over and I have some time, I'll go browse a US military base warehouse and pick out a new one for you!"
"Damn, those two really are a perfect match."
On "a barrel of amontillado," one of the contestants left behind, whose face still bore a look of terror, couldn't help but mutter to his companion in a complex tone.
Enid, with her sharp hearing, captured this sentence clearly.
For some reason, hearing someone say Victor and Wednesday were a "perfect match" made a sudden surge of inexplicable unhappiness rise in her heart, a sour, stifling feeling.
She pursed her lips and, suddenly clutching that pink Desert Eagle, stepped off the black cat and walked straight toward "a barrel of amontillado."
The two contestants left on that boat immediately grew nervous, shouting with false bravado, "Hey! W-what do you want?"
Enid didn't speak; she just raised the glaringly pink pistol Victor had given her.
The two men fell silent instantly, their hands flying up in unison, their faces pale.
Enid didn't look at them. Instead, she walked to their canoe and reached out with her other hand—sharp wolf claws instantly snapped out.
Then, as if venting, she made several deep, long, terrifying scratches near the bottom of the boat that almost pierced through the wooden planks, making a loud "skritch-skritch" sound!
After finishing, she gave a small huff. Without a glance at the two contestants who were on the verge of tears, she turned back to the black cat clutching her gun, like a little dragon guarding its treasure... or a little wolf?
Only after she had walked away did the two contestants on "a barrel of amontillado" dare to slowly lower their hands, looking at the shocking damage on the bottom of their boat, wanting to cry but having no tears.
"Whoa," one of them muttered, "that werewolf girl... is freaking badass. I'm starting to pray this wreck of a boat can actually hold out until we get back..."
"It's all your fault!" the other complained with a sob. "Why did you have to open your big mouth about them being a 'perfect match'!"
"What the hell did I say?!" the first man felt incredibly wronged. "I was just making a comment!"