[2] Hell Shell

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Gon sits in his room, short, distressed, and tired; he covers his head with a pillow as Killua's voice can be heard through the wall.

"LETS GOOOOOOOO. I GOT TEAM MVP! LITERALLY A GOD. I WILL NEVER LOSE TO A STUPID LEVEL 3 EVER AGAIN," Killua exclaims boisterously, slamming his alabaster fists on his keyboard.

Sounds of banging can be heard throughout the whole room, creating an immense urgency of fleeing the vicinity.

"Ugh, he's back playing that game again," Gon groans, pushing his dark hair back lightly with the palm of his hand.

Placing the pillow back down, Gon makes his way out of his apartment. He moves in front of the door that the noise is coming from, glaring at it.

Knocking on the door loudly, the door itself shakes as distant footsteps come near. There is a slight pause before the door opens up to reveal an unfazed Killua.

"Are you here to complain?" Killua asks amusingly.

"Yes, I am," Gon says firmly, glaring at Killua.

"You don't see me going to your door every time you play Fortnite."

"Don't care + didn't ask + cry about it + stay mad + get real + L + mald seethe cope harder + hoes mad + basic + skill issue + ratio + you fell off + the audacity + triggered + any askers + redpilled + get a life + ok and? + cringe + touch grass + dono walled + not based + go back to your country + not funny didn't laugh + grammar issue + go outside + get good + reported + ad hominem + GG + your mom," Gon sneers.

Killua rolls his eyes defensively, crossing his arms. "Says the twelve-year-old who plays Fortnite 24/7."

"SPEAK FOR YOURSELF YOU FACTORY SIMULATOR VAL ADDICT," Gon says as his fists tighten.

He walks into Killua's room uninvited as a fight emerges. Ikalgo steps in from the bathroom and leans on the door frame, crossing his arms in the process.

"Woah there guys, stop fighting about lies. Let the truth sink in, and give in to Gacha games," Ikalgo says while giving a smug expression.

"SHUT UP YOU DAFT WHORE! ALL YOU DO IS MAKE ME MORE MISERABLE TRYING TO SLEEP OVER YOUR PC FANS," Gon complains.

The arguing subsides as it shifts to a slight pause. "You got a whole lot of energy for some preteen who spends their life yelling at babies through a computer screen," Ikalgo mused.

"I'M NOT EVEN TWELVE. PLUS, you're just a gambling addict for a Chinese knockoff," Gon snarls.

"You're like 5'5 so you're practically a twelve-year-old," Killua's lips curve up slightly.

"GUYS STOP FIGHTING. THE ONLY REASON WE'RE ALL HERE TODAY IS TO SET UP THE EVENT," Ikalgo puts up his arms defensively.

Killua crosses his arms. "Oh yeah, sorry. I got a bit too off-topic because someone started yelling instead of inviting everyone," Killua says with a lilt of sarcasm in his voice.

"My bad, I just got a bit too bored. Anyway, I'm nearly done with the fliers," Ikalgo grins.

Gon tilts his head to the left, questioning their conversation. "What are you guys planning?" Gon asks, intrigued.

"Of course, you haven't heard of the Nerf gun war. You're too focused on screaming at kids half your age," Killua mutters.

Ikalgo shuffles his feet to the side of Killua's room where Killua's desk stands. He pulls on the knob of his cabinet and takes out a flier.

"I still haven't printed all of them out yet," Ikalgo puts his hands down. He hands the paper to Killua who raises his eyebrow.

"This is what you spend your time doing in my room?"

There is an infinitesimal pause. "I'm surprised you haven't noticed, I guess you're too focused on Val," Ikalgo muses.

Killua pauses, his eyes widen as he turns his head towards Gon. "Wait, who the fuck are you?"

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