The RMS Titanic sliced through the cold Atlantic waters, a monument to human hubris. But deep in the bowels of the ship, in a cramped, grimy corner of third-class, a cesspool of AutoAdmit’s most renowned poasters huddled together. They occupied a forgotten alcove near the cargo hold, oblivious to the chaos that loomed ahead.

Scene 1: The Gathering

Mainlining sat at a battered wooden table, sharpening a Bowie knife he’d somehow smuggled aboard. His eyes were narrowed, as if he was preparing for a “Grizz attack” in the middle of the Atlantic. Despite his slim, twink-like appearance, Mainlining was fit and strong, his outdoorsman lifestyle showing in the sharpness of his movements.

“Should’ve brought my own bear spray,” he muttered, glaring at the small canister of ship-issued repellent. “What am I supposed to do with this? Scare off seagulls?”

A few feet away, Boom was rolling his “pimped-out” wheelchair—though on this ship, it was a creaky, wooden contraption he’d jerry-rigged with wobbling wheels and flickering LEDs.

“This whole ship feels like one of ADM’s experiments gone wrong,” he rasped, gripping a trusty baseball bat that he had resting across his lap. The bat was worn and splintered from countless uses—Boom had wielded it as his Warhammer for years. “They cut one corner, and boom—iceberg. You know it’s all part of the $hitlib conspiracy, right?”

In the corner, Evan39 paced furiously, wringing his hands and casting anxious glances at the dark waters outside.

“This ship is just like $eattle. Look at us down here—forgotten, surrounded by chaos while the elites drink champagne up top. We’re all doomed, just like that stinking shitpile of a city!”

GunneraTTTT, sitting back against the wall with a disinterested smirk, watched the scene unfold.

“You all realize that no matter how fancy this ship is, we’re still just livestock in a gilded pen, right? If anything goes wrong, we’ll be the first to get trampled.”

Scene 2: The Chaos Begins

Suddenly, the ship lurched violently, a deep groan echoing through the steel hull. The unmistakable sound of metal tearing filled the air. The Titanic had kissed the iceberg, but below decks, the chaos was just getting started.

Mainlining stood up, knife in hand. “Grizz attack!” he yelled, completely misinterpreting the situation as the ship began to tip. “I knew it, I knew it! Where’s my bear spray?” He grabbed the tiny canister, ready to fend off imaginary threats, his lean muscles tensing with readiness despite the absurdity.

Between coughs, Boom cackled, as his chair jerked sideways, nearly tipping over.

“It’s happening! ADM IRL, boys! I told you! This iceberg is just the first step in their global plan to drown us all.” He gripped the baseball bat tighter, his eyes gleaming with anticipation not seen since his pre-ADM days. “Time to live-poast this $hitstorm, friends!”

Evan39 froze, wide-eyed, as the ship groaned under the impact of the iceberg.

“How dare they!” he shrieked, his voice cracking as if the very forces of nature had personally betrayed him. “How dare they!” It was transparently obvious he had no idea who "they" were, much less what had actually happened, but the dramatic refrain echoed through the chaos nonetheless.

Scene 3: The Escape Plan

The four of them quickly realized that they needed to escape, but third-class gates and panicking passengers stood in their way. Boom took the lead, wielding his trusty baseball bat like an in-his-prime King Robert Baratheon with his Warhammer, bashing through the panicked crowds of third-class passengers as if they were nothing more than bowling pins.

The gates blocking their way didn’t stand a chance—Boom swung the bat hard, splintering the wood and forcing open the barriers that had trapped them below deck.

Mainlining darted through the gaps Boom created, his fit outdoorsman frame easily squeezing past passengers and broken gates, quickly dispatching the few fools who tried to resist the group's unstoppable Hajj to first-class decks.

“Quick thinking as always, Boom. We’re not getting trapped down here," Mainlining yelled, gifting Boom with his trademark wink.

Evan39, despite his constant shouting of “How dare they!” somehow managed to keep pace, dodging between the fallen passengers Boom had left in his wake. GunneraTTTT followed closely behind, his expression unchanged, as if this was just another inevitable part of life’s evolutionary process.

Scene 4: The Lifeboat Takeover

As they made their way through the chaos, GunneraTTTT spotted a crying female child clutching a stuffed bear. Without a second thought, he pulled her along, securing himself a spot by her side at the lifeboats.

“A real man makes his own luck,” he muttered as he stepped into the lifeboat, smirking as chaos erupted around him. “Survival of the fittest.”

Mainlining, always thinking on his feet, saw an opportunity as a crew member frantically tried to lower another lifeboat. A well-timed slip on the wet deck sent him tumbling headfirst into the officer’s legs, knocking him flat. Mainlining didn’t flinch; the blade moved with clinical precision, carving through flesh as if it were another survival drill in the wild.

“Sorry about that. Should have Just Jumped, friendo,” Mainlining said, not sounding sorry at all as he dusted himself off and took the officer's place. He grabbed the rope, his fit arms easily handling the task of lowering the lifeboat. “I’ve got this. You go help someone else.”

The dying crewman, with only seconds left to live, tried to crawl for help but a second stab directly to the skull left him deceased, leaving Mainlining firmly in control.

With a sly grin, Mainlining called to a few nearby first-class passengers.

“Get in, before the real chaos starts.” He gave the rope a hard yank, sending the lifeboat down smoothly, while others nearby were caught in pandemonium.

Boom rolled past him, laughing.

“Classic, my friend...pulling off 1800 mountain-climbing rescue move$ on this $hitboat.”

Scene 5: The First-Class Carnage

It wasn’t long before the four poasters realized they were the only third-class passengers in the lifeboat—and that the boat was overloaded with wealthy first-class passengers, their gilded possessions glittering in the moonlight. The weight was causing the lifeboat to slowly sink, and it became painfully clear that something needed to be done.

Mainlining was the first to act, his keen outdoorsman instincts kicking in. He quietly slipped behind the wealthiest-looking woman, eyeing her fur coat and diamond earrings. With a swift motion, he plucked the jewels from her ears and snatched the coat, wrapping it around himself like a trophy. Any hint of humanity had evaporated; as casually as tossing out trash, Mainlining chucked the woman overboard without a second thought, promptly bashing her skull with a lifeboat oar.

Eyeing his new provisions, Mainlining chuckled, his luscious hair lighting up the night:

“Looks like this is better 'suited' for survival,” his lean muscles winning the day.

GunneraTTTT, always the pragmatist, followed suit. He scanned the passengers, his eyes settling on a man with a pocket watch and gold chain.

“Survival of the fittest,” GunneraTTTT said coldly, as he deftly unclasped the chain and slid it into his pocket. “You’ve outlived your usefulness.” With a firm shove, the man was tossed into the icy water.

Mainlining, beginning to settle into his newly found fun habit, bashed the man's skull and watched the so-called "first class" man begin sinking.

Evan39, despite his usual panic, found a moment of clarity. Spotting a woman with a pearl necklace and a diamond-studded hairpin, he swooped in, dramatically proclaiming:

“How dare you flaunt this while we’re all about to die!”

He ripped the pearls from her neck and the hairpin from her hair before hurling her overboard.

“How dare they!” he shouted again, as if to the universe. Mainlining, now on a roll, promptly dispatched her, as well.

Meanwhile, Evan39 delicately dressed up in the pearl necklace and the hairpin in a not-so-subtle effort to sexually attract Mainlining.

But Boom—Mr. Boom was having the most fun. His trusty baseball bat-Warhammer swung with reckless abandon, knocking "first-class" passengers off the boat like he was playing a home-run derby.

“You ADM planted fraud$!” he bellowed, grabbing watches, necklaces, and whatever else was in arm’s reach. “All this shiny $hiTTT won’t save you now!”

With every swing, another first-class passenger was sent flying into the frigid sea.

“$hitlibs, every last one of you!” Boom maniacally cackled, eyes gleaming with joy not seen since ADMs wrongs.

Scene 6: The Aftermath

By the time they were done, the boat was significantly lighter, and the four poasters sat surrounded by piles of jewelry, furs, and luxury goods. The only first-class survivor was the crying child clutching her stuffed bear. Without words, the group collectively decided to spare her, collectively internally noting the likely need for provisions down the line.

Boom wiped his brow with a gold-trimmed handkerchief he’d pilfered and glanced at the others.

“Well, that fixed the $inking issue, ljl.”

Mainlining took the final bite of his “pep,” wrapping himself tighter in the stolen fur coat. He leaned back, surveying the chaos around him with a smirk.

“Wowza. And I thought only the outdoors are 180. Great team effort, gentlemen.”

Scene 7: A Toast to Chaos

Suddenly, as if the universe had a sense of humor, a massive crate of luxury goods—champagne, caviar, and pearls—floated by, and Mainlining hauled it onto the boat.

Boom smashed it open with his bat, cackling even louder than before, grabbing a bottle of fine champagne and raising it.

“Death to Fraudfucks & $hitlibs!” he shouted.

The others laughed, collectively toasting to their succe$$, adrenaline still running through their veins as if they were Mainlining the Secret Truth of the Shitburg.

"This $hitstorm = solid CR from the shitbort, lol," Boom proclaimed, with his compatriots collectively nodding in agreement.

As the screams of the drowning faded into the cold night, they sat back, sipping champagne under the moonlit sky—each XO MPM winners—at least for this moment in time, reveling in their success.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5609285&forum_id=2#48181825)

As the boat drifted into the dark night, they noticed a peculiar box floating nearby, its corners gilded and nearly glowing under the moonlight. Mainlining, ever curious, leaned over and plucked it from the water, wiping away sea spray to reveal ornate engravings spelling “Property of J.P. Morgan.” The group collectively laughed, knowing this was exactly the kind of sinister coincidence their lives had conditioned them to expect.

“It’s the Mahchine at work,” Mainlining muttered, inspecting the box’s contents. He opened it carefully, finding stacks of cash, a diamond-studded pocket watch, and a handwritten letter addressed to J.P. Morgan himself. Boom glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised, as he swiped a few bills and pocketed them.

“Bet that $hitlib didn’t see this coming,” Boom muttered, rolling the baseball bat between his palms. “ADM’s been pulling this $hit for decades, and we’re just finally collecting our due.”

Evan39, still delicately adjusting his pearl necklace, giggled nervously, but his eyes gleamed with a newfound excitement. This wasn’t just any score—it was poetic, the Mahchine in its most raw and absurd form. As the others ransacked the crate, GunneraTTTT calmly flipped through the letter, smirking as he read aloud.

“‘To be delivered in New York City’... Looks like the elites had their own little scheme brewing. All the more reason they went down tonight,” he added with a grim satisfaction, crumpling the letter and tossing it overboard.

Scene 9: The Arrival of Disco Fries

As dawn broke, their lifeboat approached a small rescue vessel. To their shock, sitting on the edge, waving a battered New York Giants cap, was none other than Disco Fries. Somehow, he’d hitched a ride on an early rescue boat, chatting up a British sailor about “the Teewinot climbing scene” and “dropping 20 pounds before Easter.”

“Hey, you all look like $hit,” Disco Fries greeted, climbing onto their lifeboat without waiting for an invitation. He immediately dove into the crate, snagging a bottle of champagne and toasting. “Who knew this bucket of bolts would end up as prime real estate for the survivors, ljl.”

Boom cracked a smile, handing Disco Fries a stolen gold chain. “We’re leveling up this disaster, old friend.”

Mainlining smirked, noting how even amidst catastrophe, Disco Fries somehow ended up front and center with the XO elite.

“Welcome aboard, champ,” he muttered, shaking his head as Disco Fries took a bite of caviar and grimaced.

Scene 10: The Pact of Survivors

As the sun crested the horizon, they collectively acknowledged the unspoken truth: they were survivors of the greatest fraud in history, triumphant and resolute, sailing away from the smoldering wreck of Titanic.

Mainlining, leaning back in his commandeered fur coat, raised a bottle of champagne, his gaze steady as he addressed the group. “Gentlemen, we owe nothing to that $hitberg or the fraud-libs left behind. What we built here tonight… well, let’s just say the Mahchine couldn’t keep us under forever.”

They all nodded, toasting with a newfound camaraderie. This wasn’t just survival; it was the ultimate XO triumph—a testament to the Hajj of life, where only the chosen thrived, each one left standing through strength, grit, and an impeccable sense of dark humor.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5609285&forum_id=2#48261159)