A defeated John walked back into the LFTO base.

"This whole fiddlethingie thing is stupid..." he muttered to himself.

"Just some stupid gadget..." he sighed.

His ascent up the stairs was blocked as he bumped into somebody.

"Whoah, sorry!" he exclaimed, looking up and seeing Bonifacius.

He stood in the dark with a straight expression which John could only make out thanks to the fact undead see better in the dark.

Bonifacius took a step forward resulting in a loud flopping sound.

"Bonifacius...? Are you feeling alright?" John asked in a weary tone.

He got up to his feet quickly as Bonifacius took another step forward exposing the flopping object fused to his forehead.

It was composed of a large pink meaty shaft and two round organs.

John raised an eyebrow uncertainly.

"Is that... a cock-hat...?" John asked as Bonifacius took yet another step toward him.

John stepped back.

Only to bump into something else.

Looking back he saw Revenberry with the same appendage.

John let out a brief shriek as the harpy attempted to whip him with the device.

She grabbed his arms but failed to anticipate John shadow-stepping away in the unlit home.

"Holy shit! What's wrong with you two!?"

"Fiddlethingie..." moaned Bonifacius in a raspy tone.

"Fiddlethingie..." Revenberry agreed.

John turned to run only to see the Foxly and Crown blocking the door, both displaying similar appendages.

"Hold on... that's the fiddlethingie!?"

"So they were playing with dicks this entire time..."

John had to escape - but where to.

His eyes drifted to the basement, there was a window there and he could use it to escape.

John kicked the door open and dashed inside, shutting it behind him.

"Oh great... it's you..." Bromy spoke in a tired voice.

John looked over and spotted Bromy sitting in a wooden chair with his hat on.

He was surrounded by blood and countless shrivelled up fidlethingies.

At least John hoped that's what they were, the idea of them being the real deal scared him greatly.

Bromy let out a puff of cigarette smoke as he looked over at John with a slight smile.

"Looks like they didn't get you yet," he observed with a matter of fact tone.

He tossed the cigarette aside.

"Bromy! Thank Lorb you're alright!"

"He IS a doctor! Allegedly!"

Bromy sighed.

"That's... not entirely true..." he replied.

He gestured to the large, wet stain on his chest.

"I tried surgically removing those things... but one of them hit me with some secretion..."

Bromy folded his arms.

"I think I know which dickhead made these now..." Bromy explained.

He kicked one of the maimed fiddlethingies across the room, it let out a brief screech before squirming a little and going limp again.

"They're not gadgets... they're parasites."

"They drain blood from your body and convert it to mana..."

"They're all high-level illusion-magic classes, hence why everyone saw them as whatever gadget they wanted..."

Bromy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flask of blue liquid which he downed in a few gulps.

"I should have known it was that time of the year again..." he admitted.

"You need to go find Kevin and kick his teeth in..."

"That should fix everything," Bromy explained just as the potion he just drank kicked in, paralyzing him just as his bucket hat was lifted up by some phallic creature.

The door burst open as Bonifacius used his shield charge to turn it into splintered fragments of wood.

Like a speeding train, he barrelled into the wall, followed by the others.

John stepped back.

"Where do I find Kevin?!" John demanded.

Bromy didn't reply.

"Shit..." John cursed under his breath as he shadow-stepped back into the main hall seeing as everyone was now in the basement, he charged outside seeing a few survivors attempt to fight off the army of dickheads.

A few alpha-dickheads had more than one fiddlethingie attached to their heads.

"IT'S GOT ME!" cried one man as he got shot by a splatter of slime which quickly caused a little nub to sprout from his forehead.

Quickly John shadow-stepped onto a nearby roof where he could get a full view of the chaos.

A few attempted to barricade themselves inside of inns and homes while most were already infected, willingly using the fiddlethingies for a while now.

The walls were pained with things like: "Don't dickhead, open inside." and "They respawn with them!"

A few players started tossing Molotov cocktails at things just for the hell of it, proving that some people were dickheads all along.

John looked around frantically.

"Where is Kevin?!"

"Where do I find Kevin!?"