The Setting

(The park is deserted, except for a few shadowy figures—anonymous poasters—lurking around the edges. They hover near broken benches and graffitied walls, their presence eerie, waiting for the conflict to unfold. In the distance, a cracked fountain trickles weakly, its base littered with debris. A single streetlamp flickers, casting a dim, uneven light over the scene.)

(Boom sits motionless at the center, the flickering light from his laptop reflecting off his face like the glow of a dying fire. His wheelchair dominates the space. Despite his physical limitations from his ADM-related brain damage, there’s a sense that the very air around him bends to his will. The shadowy figures glance at him, nodding silently, blank bumping in his presence.)

Boom (Achilles):

responding to the earlier thread. "Evan, you’ve been crying about SeaTTTle for months. You should just quit now before you embarrass yourself again. This board doesn’t need your washed-up, self-pitying poasts."

(A cascade of blank bumps follows Boom’s poast. The shadowy figures—anonymous poasters—shift, bumping posts without saying a word. Their eyes never leave the scene. They’re waiting for Evan’s response.)

Evan39 (Hector):

standing by the crumbling fountain

"I’m not backing down from this, Boom. You may think you’ve won every battle here, but this one’s different. This isn’t just about SeaTTTle. This is about us. It’s about every poaster you’ve burned along the way, leaving nothing but ashes in your wake. You think you’re untouchable, but today you’ll see I’m not afraid to face you."

(The water from the cracked fountain trickles softly behind him, barely audible over the tension of the moment. The weak light from the streetlamp casts Evan’s shadow—small, fragile—next to Boom’s looming figure.)

Boom (Achilles):

mocking

"Oh, Evan, you’ll be a memory on this board by tonight. There are no pacts between lions and whatever it is you think you are. And you’ll learn there’s no peace between a flame god and a washed-up bagger from SeaTTTle."

(The shadowy figures shift in the dark, their blank bumps continuing, signaling their silent approval of Boom’s words. They’re drawn to his dominance, feeding off his flame.)

Boom’s Internal Monologue:

Boom pauses, his fingers hovering above the keys. This isn’t new to him. He’s taken down bigger poasters before. But something about Evan’s persistence gnaws at him. Maybe it's the years of watching Evan spiral, or maybe it’s that somewhere, deep down, Boom knows that even in this digital battlefield, every flame war leaves its scars. Still, there’s no turning back now. This is his domain. His war.

(Boom feels a flicker of discomfort in his damaged brain—the result of years of harsh battles on AutoAdmit (ADM). His condition has left him confined to a wheelchair, but the flame god’s mind remains sharp, his fingers lethal. The flickering light from his screen reflects off the litter-strewn park, casting long shadows around the figures. The anonymous poasters wait, their blank bumps a silent drumbeat.)

Boom (Achilles):

laughs coldly

"There are no pacts between lions and... well, whatever you are, Evan. No peace between a brain-damaged flame god and a mere mortal stuck in SeaTTTle."

(Boom thrusts his metaphorical spear into the ground, then dramatically removes his helmet—symbolizing the end of the pretense, the final showdown. His wheelchair-bound state, his physical condition caused by ADM, only adds to the drama. The shadowy figures drift back, blank bumping in silent reverence.)

Evan39’s Internal Monologue:

Evan feels the weight of Boom’s words pressing down on him. He looks around at the dimly lit room in his SeaTTTle apartment. The cold light of the computer screen flickers, mirroring the way his own resolve flickers inside. He’s tired—so tired of fighting against this. Against homelessness, against the world falling apart, and now against Boom, the flame god of the board. He can feel that this is it. Maybe this is how it was always going to end.

(He glances at the cracked fountain behind him, its steady trickle reminding him of everything that’s slipping away. He knows this fight might be the last chance to stand up to the decay around him.)

Evan39 (Hector):

removes his helmet slowly, sighing

"I thought it was you yesterday. I wished it had been. When I faced SeaTTTle, when I raged against the homelessness, the deterioration of everything I once knew, I was hoping it was you in the ring. But instead, I gave the city the honor it deserved. I gave the dead boy—this crumbling world—what I had."

(The flickering streetlamp casts Evan’s shadow onto the cracked pavement beneath his feet. The anonymous poasters remain silent, but their blank bumps continue, faint and rhythmic, as they wait for Boom’s final move.)

Boom’s Mortal Blow

(As Boom prepares to deliver the final strike, the anonymous poasters close in, their shadows blending into the graffiti-covered walls, their blank bumps filling the silence like a drumbeat. Evan39 stands still by the fountain, the trickle of water behind him a soft, melancholy sound. The streetlamp above flickers as if sensing the finality of the moment.)

(Boom’s fingers hover over the keys, the screen's light flickering like a fire ready to consume everything. He types with precision, the flame calculated to leave nothing behind. The final flame is as sharp as it is brutal:)

Boom’s Final Flame (Achilles):

laughing darkly as he types

"Evan, you’ve spent so much time fighting SeaTTTle, you never realized your real battle was here. You’re not a warrior. You’re just another poaster stuck in a fight you can’t win. This is where it ends for you. Your poasts, your bumps—gone. All that’s left is silence. You thought you were fighting the world, but the real battle was always with me."

(Boom hits Submit, the final blow sending a ripple through the park, the anonymous poasters silent now, no longer bumping. The screen flickers one last time, casting a ghostly glow across the scene.)

Mainlining’s Entry

(Mainlining emerges from the shadows, his face illuminated by the soft glow of his laptop. He’s been watching the entire time, sipping from a bottle of Mountain Dew, enjoying the spectacle from the sidelines. His entrance slows the moment, creating a pause between the final blow and the aftermath.)

Mainlining (Odysseus):

laughs softly

"Boom, Evan39, the board is a stage, and we're all just players. But some roles are more... memorable than others."

(Mainlining circles the two of them, like a puppet master controlling the strings from above. He glances at the crumbling fountain and the broken benches, symbols of Evan’s crumbling resistance.)

Mainlining (Odysseus):

"Evan, perhaps it’s time to find a new battlefield. The 'bear' threads are always hungry for fresh meat. ;)"

(Boom rolls forward in his chair, fingers ready to hit Submit, but Mainlining’s words linger in the air. For just a moment, Evan39 looks up as if realizing that even in defeat, there’s something more. A legacy on the board, perhaps. A certain immortality that doesn’t require victory.)

Mainlining’s Perspective:

As he watches the scene unfold, Mainlining feels neither pity nor amusement—just a detached curiosity. To him, this is just another chapter in an endless cycle of conflict. The board will never stop. The players will change, but the flame wars will continue. He sips his Mountain Dew, wondering how long before Boom finds another opponent, another conflict to fuel his legend. For now, Mainlining is content to observe, knowing that his role as the observer is eternal.

(A brief pause hangs in the air, the park silent except for the faint hum of a distant streetlight. The weight of Mainlining’s words settles over the thread like a quiet fog.)

The Aftermath:

(The screen goes dark, the thread locked. The anonymous poasters disappear into the shadows, leaving Boom alone in the park. He sits still, his fingers resting on the keyboard. For a moment, he allows himself a rare flicker of doubt. Victory is always his, but there’s something hollow about this one. Evan had been a consistent adversary, even if Boom had never truly seen him as a threat.)

(Boom rolls back from his laptop, his damaged brain throbbing slightly from the exertion. He’ll need time to recover before the next battle, but there’s no doubt in his mind: another fight will come. The board never sleeps.)

Boom’s Internal Reflection:

“Another one down. But how many more? How long until there’s no one left to fight?”

The thoughts flit through Boom’s mind briefly before he shuts them down. There’s always another battle, always another flame war to ignite. And for as long as the board exists, Boom will be there at the center of it all.

Evan39’s Future:

(As the thread fades into the archives, Evan39 sits in his apartment, staring at the screen. He knew this was coming, but there’s a strange peace in the aftermath. His legacy, small as it may be, has been cemented in this defeat. The fight with Boom had been inevitable, and now, he’ll take his place in the vast underworld of forgotten threads.)

(He sighs and closes the laptop. Outside, the sounds of SeaTTTle’s crumbling cityscape continue as if nothing has changed. Tomorrow, there will be another battle. But for tonight, Evan is done.)

The End.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5600590&forum_id=2#48125641)