This branches into two storylines, with the alternate one marked with an A
=====

The Tall and Short Problems of a Cute Gamer Girl

[8]
For the Alt Branch [8A]

“What do you think?”

While Giselle asked the question, she looked into Rachel‘s eyes and could see the shape of her own question crossing them like an echo. Rachel didn’t know what to do any more than she did. A suspicious email sent from some random name supposedly related to the website sounded like the worst idea for something to chase after.

Even if it was just the two of them in normal conditions with Jeremy’s faintly intimidating height, there was no way they were going to risk driving fifty miles north to some random waterfront location, wait for a black car, and hope that it all went well. Jeremy had called off sketchy game swaps for far less.

They could call the police or other authorities, but considering that Giselle had just overcome an effort to completely brainwash her and her parents were still in that state, neither of them believed that things would swing fairly for them with that.

Among the best of the bad options, Rachel tried to reply to the email with some questions and clarifications, but that was futile as she kept getting an error saying that something was wrong with the email address. There was really only one choice.

They contacted Finley and Dale. Finley was actually in a good spot because he had had to head north on store business and was actually coming back into town. Along with an extensive arcade collection, he had more guns than anyone else they knew, including some World War I artillery pieces. He provided a silent protection presence for a friend of his when he was going in for a big trade of expensive video game merchandise.

Neither of them wanted to put their friends in danger. But this appeared to be the only option.

Finley still recognized Giselle as one of his best, long-term customers, despite now also seeing her as Rachel‘s significant other. It creeped her out that whatever this was had gotten to him as well. The same went for Dale, who recalled her as living in the dorm right next to theirs. To his recollections, geeky ‘Elle’ apparently stopped by constantly to school everyone in Melee.

Finley would follow them in his truck and Dale would be in the back with his taser, mace, and six-shooter. Dale would deflect the attention from any creepy figures and Finley would be the backup. Giselle and Rachel both hoped that they were being overprotective for nothing.

Unlike the other day when it seemed like Dale might be casually interested in Giselle, he suggested by his body language that she was off-limits. She noticed that he kept a polite eyeline but caught that he occasionally glanced down from his peripheral vision at her chest when she turned. A teeny tiny part of her was faintly tempted to ask him if he needed to use the toilet.

They didn’t really have a good story put together for what exactly was going on, but they had friends who didn’t need the answers to those questions so long as they needed their help. Giselle gave the outline of an explanation with the contours of saying that this person had critical information for them about a misdeed from something they bought which could be remedied. It was clear from Dale‘s blinking that he had absolutely no idea what that meant, but he was still going along with this for them.

The main highway sufficed for about 30 miles before they had to switch over to a two-lane one past the state line. It was small town Carolina with a familiar flavor that Jeremy was used to growing up in. Surprisingly quiet as well. For the exact location, they tracked themselves using an app along with Google Maps.

Finley pulled into a general store down the block while they pulled into a seafood restaurant with a sizable parking lot. A black Chevy van with tinted windows flashed its lights on the side. Dale noted that it looked a little bit like the A-Team van. Giselle had no idea what that was but figured he was right.

Through the side window, a white paper was pressed to the glass with just the word “FOLLOW” written in block letters. Dale expressed some confusion but also excitement as the van slowly pulled out and onto a side street. They followed it around some curving promenades until it parked in an open lot by an oceanfront dog park. Pulling into a spot nearby, they waited again until another paper pressed up against the glass that read “GET OUT”.

They obeyed and stepped out of the car together. About a minute later, the passenger door unlocked, and someone stepped out. They were desperately skinny with a gray jacket on and oversized shades. The jacket looked like it was eating them as a meal and their hands and head were the last parts left. Under one arm, he cradled a narrow, long shipping box. Looking at him in isolation, Giselle if had to guess what he was, she would assume some sort of hobo who recently shaved but hadn’t had anything to eat in weeks. They approached cautiously.

Setting the box at his feet, the guy laid a skeletal hand on his chest and announced in a high, wheezy voice, “Call me, Cerberus.”

None of them were gonna call him that. Rachel sighed and pressed, “Why did you contact us?”

The strange man raised a finger and then slipped a skinny remote control out of his pocket. Before anyone could say anything, he pointed it at Dale and pressed a button, then aimed it at Finley‘s truck parked across the street and pressed the same button. instantly, Dale froze in place with his eyes about to blink. They couldn’t be sure what happened to Finley, but it didn’t appear he was moving either.

“Privacy measure”, the weird man explained. “I know I didn’t say anything in the email about coming alone, but I figured it was implied. This way, your friends don’t wind up with any uncomfortable questions about what we discuss.”

Rachel stamped her foot and demanded, “What do you want? What is all this?”

Giselle emphasized, “Our friends better be alright.”

The man fanned his hand. “Just a slight sinus headache afterward. What I want is to clear your situation up. I’m a lawyer… Sometimes. But I represent the Flush With Pride Co., at least what you would know as that around here. They design their products to basically cause complications and change. Silly man doesn’t wanna put down the toilet seat, so he gets a dose of karmic justice. He changes his ways, and they never need the seat again. Only that’s boring. What good is all that if it doesn’t cause a little chaos? The products with the company are made intentionally faulty. That’s why, when you kicked the seat, new changes happened.” He folded his arms and wore a self-satisfied smile.

Giselle and Rachel glanced at each other and then Giselle answered for them, “…I never kicked the seat. I just left it up three times. I thought about kicking it.”

This weird man opened his mouth and raised a finger to say something else, before he took a good look at Giselle and immediately frowned. After several moments of silence, he clapped a hand to his forehead and pronounced, “I’m in the wrong one. Shit. I should’ve waited. Can we do this again in a couple weeks…when your seat is broken, and further complications have resulted?”

Rachel scowled and gave a little shake of her head. She eyeballed frozen Dale and his pocket. “I want my husband back.”

Narrowing his gaze, the strange man started to lift his remote before Rachel plunged into Dale‘s pocket and came up with the mace. She had a couple lessons on how to use it back in college and sprayed a wide pattern at him. He wailed in pain and fumbled the remote on the ground. Giselle didn’t need to be told to grab it. She aimed it with her hand poised over the buttons in what she hoped was a menacing fashion.

The guy was quite pissed off as he rubbed furiously at his burning, irritated eyes. When he could see again, Rachel had the taser out in one hand and what was left of the mace in the other. She announced, “My husband and I aren’t gonna screw around with whatever you’re doing. You tell us how to fix this or we start pushing buttons that you aren’t going to like.” Giselle gripped the remote and laid a finger across a random button in particular for emphasis.

Panting and still rubbing at his eyes, the supposed lawyer responded, “I was going to give you a fix. But only after yours broke. The box contains a complete seat with control for removal. Since yours isn’t broken and doesn’t have a control, it does whatever it wants in the pursuit of self-preservation. And this is useless to you.” The strange man held up the box he brought with him.

Rachel raised an eyebrow and announced, “I think we’ll be taking it anyway. We’re due a replacement, one that actually works.”

The man scowled and hoisted the box up. Rachel noticed that he didn’t have any objection to giving it to them. After the box, he demanded his remote back. Giselle thought about just trying buttons to see what happened. Eventually, they worked out a plan though. Rachel passed the taser to Giselle while keeping the mace and showing off the six-shooter.

They backed away when returning the remote and promised if he made any move against them, then they would make sure he hurt. Fortunately, he unfroze both of their friends without even feinting in their direction. Dale looked puzzled and bewildered and Finley‘s truck started up, but everyone stayed where they were.

Tucking the remote back in his pocket, the weird man told them, “You should be a little more trusting. I only wanted to help but no no no take care of it yourselves. See how that works for you. I have other matters to deal with.” He strode back to the truck and a minute after that it pulled out and drove away.

The four of them met up soon after and tried to make sense of things. Dale and Finley had some degree of missing time with Finley remarking on it quite pointedly and pondering about UFOs and MIB. Giselle and Rachel really had no answers, but Giselle found herself quite oddly turned on by the way Rachel took charge of things like she was a spy in a movie. She often waited and debated and reflected too hard on the possibilities and quandaries of what to do, sometimes the same as Jeremy, so her resolute command of the situation made Giselle want to cuddle up. She did her best not to think over the implications of that feeling so far as her mood or the recent mental changes she had just shaken loose.

At least, according to this weird guy, they had a remedy for the seat and a possibility for what to do to fix it.

[Since this is meant to be interactive, feel free to suggest ideas and prompts for future/alternate branch storylines. Some branches are already written but this will allow me to best pick new/alternate ones. I'm currently just rolling dice.]

Poll below