After an eon of waiting, I bring you The Butter Cake Quest!

As always, constructive criticism is very appreciated. :D

Valtiel lay flat on his back on Henry's couch, enjoying the silence of the empty apartment, lon since accustomed to the ambient noise. The fan, as if demonically possessed, whirred through the air with a rapid chopchopchop and the windows were slamming open and shut loudly. Originally, the television was unresponsive to the remote and kept blaring static, but the god soon found all the remote needed was batteries, and so the television went off.

He licked his finger and turned the page of the book he lofted above his head, absorbing eagerly the dilemma of some whiny teenager convinced a fellow schoolmate was a vampire.

"Oh, Bella," he chuckled. "If you only read the information on the back of your own book, you'd know Edward was a vampire."

He set down the book to grab a drink, finding none other than Walter Sullivan staring at him disdainfully. Valtiel jumped and chucked the book at Walter, accusing, "Jesus, Walter, don't you knock?"

Walter chortled softly as he wended his way to the bookshelf, pondering the paperback contents before selecting a copy of Rough and Ready by Sandra Hill, flicking open to a seemingly random page. "I've been here for longer than you think," he casually intoned.

Valtiel righted himself, muttering, "Of course, what with you being a ghost and all." He observed the book Walter held. "I didn't know you read."

"I don't. I just hold books to make myself appear smarter," Walter stated.

Aware of the contents of that book, Valtiel grimaced and began to advise, "Yeah, maybe that's not the best-" a thought then crossed his mind- "actually, what do I know? That book's a modern classic. You'll pick up all the bitches in the reading circle with that thing."

"Excellent." Walter tucked the book into an interior pocket of his bloodstained trench coat.

"So what'd you come here for?" Valtiel fetched his own book, flipping through the five hundred pages to locate the one he was on. "You're not the type for idle conversation."

"I heard you organized a group of your little minions to scurry around Silent Hill and pick up butter cake." Walter crossed his arms and faced Valtiel, grinning without any happiness.

"Uhh, yeah..." The god sounded confused.

"Why was I not invited?" The murderer's tone quivered with pent-up emotion, and he phased across the room in a mere blink of an eye to loom over the smaller man-creature.

"You honestly want to run around with some idiot to search for butter cake?" Valtiel deadpanned. "If I'd known that, I certainly would've called on your assistance."

"You know how much that hurts, man?" Walter clutched fistfuls of his dirty blond hair, obviously on the verge of crying. "You could've invited me, and I could've declined, bro! You didn't have to just pass me over like you assumed I wouldn't help. Or maybe you think I can't help! Maybe you think I'm useless!"

"I think you need to take your Midol and eat some chocolate, but I don't think you're useless," Valtiel defended himself, raising his hands in surrender.

Walter was honestly crying now, the hot tears flowing down his cheeks. "Who was it?" he questioned, voice ominously quiet. When Valtiel did not respond within a fraction of a second, he whipped out a pistol and pointed it at the organizer of the butter cake mission. "Who was it?" he yelled, livid.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sullivan. Put... put the gun down. You're scaring me." Valtiel's hands visibly shook as the cold muzzle of the pistol was pressed into his chest.

"I won't put the gun down until you give me a freaking answer," said Walter. "You know goddamn well that someone requested you to not invite me. Now who, Valtiel?"

"No need to get all pissy-"

"I'll get as pissy as I want!" he sobbed. "All my life, I was ignored, not invited to anything. It screws a kid up, you know? I often wondered, how could the world treat an innocent child like that? And I swore to myself that I'd never be ignored again. And I most definitely will not be passed up by you, you miserable little rat. I swear to Mother, if you don't tell me in ten seconds who told you not to invite me, I'll send this bullet straight through your worthless brain. And your ten seconds began eight seconds ago!"

"Townshend!" Valtiel spluttered frantically, watching with horror as Walter's finger twitched on the trigger. "It was Townshend. I swear. Townshend- yeah, Townshend. Never trust that Townshend. Damn Townshend."

Walter cocked an eyebrow. "You done?"

"Townshend. Okay, now I am."

He reluctantly withdrew the gun, clenching the arm firmly to his side. "Well, if you're wrong, I'll have murdered an innocent man."

"Uh, no offense, but you never really had any qualms with that in the past-"

"Shut your mouth!"

"Sorry."

Walter again sheathed the pistol, his dulcet tone unfaltering as he cordially nodded and stated, "Thank you for your help. It is much appreciated." With that, he lumbered towards the front hall, turning left and shimmering through the laundry room door.

"If you're looking to get out, you're going the wrong way," Valtiel called after him. He tilted his head back and stared at the maniacal fan, letting out a quivering sigh, his novel forgotten in his lap. "Sorry, Townshend," he apologized towards the ceiling, "but it's every man for himself."

"'All is fair in love and war'." Walter's head popped out from the closed door. "Francis Smedley. That's right, I read. And I know you recommended a porn book to me. To be honest, you are more corrupted than the soul of Dorian Gray."

"Wha- how? Didn't you have difficulty reading your cult's propaganda texts?" Valtiel doubtfully questioned.

"You're right." Walter's head disappeared, replaced by his hand, proudly displaying a sleek black smart phone. "I have no clue what any of this is, but my iPhone here has access to Wikipedia! That's right, I can now make references to literature to make myself appear smarter! Hold on, hold on, I found a good one from Death of a Salesman..."

Valtiel chucked his book at Walter, falling just short of his target. "Get out of here."

Walter cackled triumphantly as he happened across a blog, "Hey, Valtiel! You should hear what the Interwebs have to say about the Twilight saga you adore so much!"

Valtiel shrieked as if he was shot, violently squishing his palms against his ears. "NononononoNONONO!"

"You mad, bro?"

Valtiel's blood turned to ice in his veins, the horrors of the previous conversation paled in comparison to this newest atrocity. He had been threatened at gunpoint. He had effectively sentenced Henry to a painful and bloody death. He had unleashed on the other poor saps a coldblooded murderer. But nothing- nothing- was comparable to the implications contained in those three words that rang raucously in his ears.

Walter. Had. Found. 4chan.

Screw the likes of "Silent Hill 2", "Amnesia", and "Penumbra", 4chan is bar none the most terrifying entity to have ever sprung from the prosperity of mankind.

but i still worship anonymous /)(o3o)(\

G'night, everybody! Or good morning, or good afternoon, depending on what time zone you're in.