Chapter 198 Under The Dumpster

Suzuka hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. She glanced toward the rain-soaked alley through the window and sighed. Her expression remained stern as she explained, "Hermit is someone who's been... unfortunate to say the least, and he's found refuge in our care. He's our... pet or slave, in a way? Oh the hell with it, to make a story short: he is a pathetic goblin slave whom we are trying to protect and extract some valuable information. I'd rather not say more, but you'll understand if you stick around."

Jacob playful yelped in surprise, "A goblin? What? You're jesting, right?"

David chimed in and launched into a bitter rant, his hate for goblins coming to the surface, "Nop, no joke. We are indeed guarding this one ugly, stinking, shit-eating, disgusting goblin who can't shut his mouth, yelping about how he wants to live in peace with town folks. Disgusting! If I could, I would gut him and nail him to the wall for his fellow goblin freaks to see as a warning sign not to mess with us."

Jacob leaned back in his chair, seemingly unfazed by David's aggressive outburst. With a cheerful tone, he chimed in, "Whoa, whoa! Calm down, big shot! I do hate these disgusting pesky goblins, but if we're talking about those wimpy, shit-covered naked goblins, I have to say, they are a pathetic bunch. They're used as meat shields by the other goblins, forced to run at you to tire you out before the real goblins show up. I killed so many of these wimpy slaves that it makes me gag remembering all the gore splashed on the ground when I'm done with them."

After a short pause Jacob added, "I've had my fair share of goblins slaves to deal with, and, well, they don't exactly pose a challenge. It's like swatting flies. But hey, whatever floats your boat, kid."

David timidly but with irritation in his voice said, "The fewer goblins the better."

Jacob changed the subject, directing his attention to Suzuka.

 "So, I assume you didn't come looking for me on purpose. What are you waiting for here, and who's this man you're talking about?"

"Well, there's a bit of a story behind it," she began.

 "The goblin we're protecting was... well... let's say, humiliated and beaten by this one man who we're waiting for. When he shows up, I'll have a talk with him, to ensure he never thinks of putting his fingers on this goblin ever again." 

As Jacob, David, and Helen continued their conversation in the inn, time stretched on. They waited for the man responsible for hurting Hermit to show up.

An hour passed, and Hermit's lifeless body remained in the cold box, nestled in a puddle of icy water. The only sign of life he exhibited was the loud rumbling of his starving belly, a sound that could be mistaken for distant thunder.

Unexpectedly, a group of soaked kids dashed into the alley to find temporary shelter from the worsening weather. Their tiny raincoats were soaked, and they huddled together, exchanging stories and sharing warmth while they waited for the rain to pass. Amid their chatter, they were startled by the thunderous growl emanating from Hermit's box. Fear crept into their young minds, sparking wild imaginations about the source of the ominous noise.

One of the kids nudged his friend, his voice quivering, "G-go look! Go see what's making that sound!"

His companion cried, "No way! You go look! I'm too scared!"

The third child mustered the courage to step forward, although timidly. He approached the box, and with trembling hands, he slowly lifted the lid. The rest of the children huddled around the box, peering inside.

The sight that greeted them was grotesque and unfamiliar - a goblin, Hermit, lay motionless, his scrawny body contorted within the confined space. The kids gasped in a mix of fear and surprise, stumbling backward in disarray.

 The kids gasped in a mix of fear and surprise, and one of them stammered, "It's... It's! It's a giant frog with clothes on it!"

Another chimed in, "No... no no! It's a dead giant frog! It's not moving. It must be dead."

The third kid looked around and found a thin plank with rusted nails protruding from one end. He held it up and declared, "I'll check if the giant frog is alive. I'll poke it with this plank, to make sure it's dead!"

The brave yet cautious child edged closer, his small hand clutching the plank as he leaned over the open box. His young heart pounded in his chest as he steadied himself to poke the creature within. The nails on the plank pointed ominously toward the still form of the goblin.

With a deep breath, he jabbed the plank at Hermit, prodding the goblin's side. 

Nothing.

 Hermit remained motionless, showing no signs of life. The goblin's eyes were half-closed, and his tiny, scrawny form hardly reacted to the prodding.

The child hesitated, torn between curiosity and fear. He glanced back at his friends, who were watching with bated breath. 

"It's not moving!" he said with a mixture of relief and disappointment.

 "I think It's really dead, guys!"

The other kids said, "Are you sure? Poke it again! Maybe he is just pretending!"

 The kid turned back to the lifeless goblin with the rusted, nail-studded plank. His trembling hand reached out, and he poked the grotesque creature once, then twice, and finally a third time.

With each poke, Hermit remained unresponsive, his limp body failing to react. The children watched with bated breath, tension mixed with fear.

After the third poke, the child slowly retracted the plank and looked back at his friends, his eyes wide with a hint of relief.

 "It's really dead, the freak frog not moving," he declared, the gravity of the situation slowly sinking in.

The kids exchanged nervous glances, the initial fear giving way to a sense of triumph over the apparent lifeless creature. One of them, feeling a bit braver now, ventured closer to get a better look at Hermit's tiny, wretched form.

As the children gathered around the box, curiosity consumed them. Driven by their youthful curiosity, they seized Hermit by his giant ears, dragging his lifeless body out onto the rain-soaked pavement. The goblin's frail form hit the ground with a sickening, wet splat, and they began tugging and poking at him.

Whispers among the children filled the air, as they speculated about how this creature had come to be in the box, what it might have been doing there, and whether it was indeed a frog or something entirely different.

Their hushed ponderings were abruptly interrupted by an unexpected movement. Hermit's eyelids twitched ever so slightly, and a faint moan escaped his lips. The children gasped in astonishment, their collective imaginations running wild once more.

"He's alive! The monster frog is alive!" one of the kids cried out with terror.

Another child took a few steps back, his eyes wide with fear, whimpering, "It's some kind of freak frog, I knew it! We've awakened it with our poking! The freak frog is alive, and it will eat us for waking it!"

Amid their panicked excitement, Hermit slowly began to stir. His wretched body sprawled on the cold ground, and he blinked in bewilderment at the group of children surrounding him. He let out a frail, fearful scream, "Wreeeee! Reeee! Wreeee!"

The children, terrified by the awakening goblin began to panic, shouting, "The monster frog is waking up! We need to do something before it attacks us!"

The third child, the one still gripping the plank, was filled with a sense of heroism. He shouted, "We need to finish it off before it attacks someone! We woke it from its slumber! It is upon us to defeat this evil and save the town! Kill the freak frog before it can hurt anyone!"

Before Hermit could voice his plea, the child's boot struck his lips, sending him tumbling onto his back. Then, a barrage of kicks and trampling feet rained down upon the hapless goblin, causing him to screech and yelp in agony.

 "Wreee! Reeee!" he cried out in pain.

The child with the plank, carried away by the frenzy, lifted it high above his head and brought it crashing down upon Hermit's skull. The rusted nail pierced through the goblin's head and became lodged there. The child kicked into Hermit's head with his boot and with all his meager strength tugged at the plank in an attempt to unstuck it, but it remained stuck.

Hermit's screams reached an ear-piercing pitch, "WREEEE! REEEEEEE!" as he felt the nail piercing his skull, and he began to thrash and flail his limbs chaotically. The children, now horrified by the gruesome sight before them, fled in terror, leaving Hermit writhing in agony on the ground with the plank nailed to his skull.

As they fled the scene, Hermit's pitiable cries echoed through the alley, his words muffled by the plank, "PLEEEASE! HURTS! TAKE IT OUT! WREEE! REEEE!"

Desperation coursed through Hermit as he tried to pull the rusted nail from his skull, but his feeble limbs were too weak. 

"Wreee, help me! Get this nail out! It's stuck in my head, eeep!"

He limped toward a nearby metal dumpster, climbed on top of it, and pushed the plank through the handle. Then, with a feeble leap, attempted to dislodge the nail from his skull. Instead of removing the nail, he found himself suspended in mid-air, like a grotesque, broken marionette, left to hang with the rusty nail still firmly embedded in his skull.

"Uhh, feeble goblin... Hang in the air, wrreee! Wreee! Owie, owie! It hurts so bad! Help! Wreee!"

Hermit dangled helplessly from the rusty nail, his frail body swaying in the unforgiving downpour. Blood continued to seep from the grotesque head wound, mingling with the rainwater and staining his wrinkled, pitiful face.

Hermit tried to claw at the nail wailing in frustration and pain, "Nooo! Ouchie, big owie! Pull, pull, pull! Goblin no like, no like this! Nooo! Get out, nail! Ouchie!"

The goblin's feeble strength wained and so his faint whimper grew into desperate cries, "H-help... Help me... please... someone..." His sobs and pleas filled the alley, but there was no one there to hear or offer aid.

Meanwhile, inside the inn, the trio's conversation continued. Unbeknownst to them, the weather outside took a cruel turn. The temperature plummeted, and the rain transformed into a punishing hailstorm, its tiny ice shards tapping relentlessly against various surfaces.

The hail began to pepper Hermit's fragile and sensitive skin, leaving behind painful blackened bruises and small cuts. The ice shards burned his sensitive to-cold skin with each contact it made. His body convulsed in agony as he writhed in the tormenting shower of ice. With repeated motion, the rusty nail finally dislodged from his skull, and he plummeted to the ground like a discarded puppet.

The hailstorm showed no mercy, assaulting Hermit's body as he lay sprawled on the ground. Desperate for shelter, he tried to crawl back into the wooden box, but his strength failed him. Instead, he sought refuge under the dumpster, where he finally found a momentary respite from the relentless assault. Exhausted, frozen, and banged up, he crawled beneath the metal shelter and, with a shudder, succumbed to unconsciousness.

"Brrrrr! So... cold! Can't... go on... any longer."

Gradually, the hailstorm transformed back into a gentle shower of rain, as if the elements themselves had played their part in Hermit's cruel ordeal.