Abed had been filming the trash can for three and a half minutes.
It had appeared, phased into their reality in no more than a blink of an eye, right in the middle of the bumper car rink. Something brought him to that part of the island, just in time to see it appear, and while, to anyone else, that might have seemed a coincidence, Abed knew it couldn't have been anything but fate.
He stood perfectly still, by the purple bumper car, camera in hand, his face blank, save for a slight narrowing of his eyes.
That wasn't just any trash can.
Turning off the camera and calmly returning it to the bag hanging at his side, Abed walked over to the trashcan and lifted the lid.
His cover was blown. And Troy had been convinced that this was the perfect spot to guard the hallway from-- at least, before the egg salad sandwich.
"There's no one in here! Pay no attention to that voice inside the trash can!" Troy called at first, really hoping that it might work. Except... he knew that voice.
Troy pushed the trash can lid off of the bin, and it landed with a thump on the ground as he took in a gasp of fresh air.
"Abed! I thought you were dead!" he said, before realizing that this wasn't the hallway anymore, "Why... are we in a bumper car rink? Am I dead?"
"No, you're not dead. And I'm not dead," he said, gesturing first to Troy, then to himself. "We've crossed over into an alternate universe. Kind of like Lost. Or Fringe. Or the X-Files. Or Star Trek."
He took a step back from the trash can.
"I think there's a rotten egg sandwich, in there. You should probably get out."
"Yeah, there wasn't a lot of air in there, either," Troy admitted, stepping out of the trash can with some difficulty. It'd been a whole lot easier climbing in.
An alternate universe.
He looked around the bumper car rink for a moment, then back at Abed, frowning.
"I don't think this is because of paintball. Jeff and Annie are here, and they don't remember the game," Abed explained, though that had been a pretty epic game of paintball.
"I think we've stumbled into a parallel timeline. Like the final season of Lost. Only, it seems unlikely that we're all dead and this is some non-denominational waiting room, before we cross over to the other side."
He'd never been a huge fan of that story line, truth be told.
"...so that's why that fat dude never lost weight," Troy said, struck by the sudden realization. That was one thing that had always bugged him about that show.
"What happened to everyone else, then?" Abed hadn't mentioned Britta or Shirley or even Pierce. Maybe they'd been eaten by that smog monster.
"Probably. But that only explains the sideways timeline. Why he stayed the same weight on a desert island with no food is still up for debate," Abed said, pause for a moment to think. It was something that he'd always wondered about. Those were the kind of little details he couldn't always let go of.
"They're not here yet. Well, Britta was, but she's not anymore. But with the four of us here, it's got to be only a matter of time."
"If nothing else, Pierce'll want to know why he got left out," Troy replied with a nod.
That was probably what the whole Fort Hawthorne thing had been about anyway; no one's formed an alliance with Pierce once the game had started. To be fair, though, it'd pretty much been every man for himself when the giant ice cream cone had brought out the paintball guns.
"He's planning his big entrance for the second act," Abed agreed, because it make perfect sense. Pierce would storm in and demand to know what kind of fun they'd had without him, and they'd have the same fight they'd had dozens of times.
There was something comforting in routine.
"I moved in to the dorms, that way," he said, pointing toward the compound, "I sleep in a room with a vampire and Severus Snape, only he doesn't look like Alan Rickman."
It had appeared, phased into their reality in no more than a blink of an eye, right in the middle of the bumper car rink. Something brought him to that part of the island, just in time to see it appear, and while, to anyone else, that might have seemed a coincidence, Abed knew it couldn't have been anything but fate.
He stood perfectly still, by the purple bumper car, camera in hand, his face blank, save for a slight narrowing of his eyes.
That wasn't just any trash can.
Turning off the camera and calmly returning it to the bag hanging at his side, Abed walked over to the trashcan and lifted the lid.
"Hey, Troy. You can come out, now."
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"There's no one in here! Pay no attention to that voice inside the trash can!" Troy called at first, really hoping that it might work. Except... he knew that voice.
Troy pushed the trash can lid off of the bin, and it landed with a thump on the ground as he took in a gasp of fresh air.
"Abed! I thought you were dead!" he said, before realizing that this wasn't the hallway anymore, "Why... are we in a bumper car rink? Am I dead?"
Reply
He took a step back from the trash can.
"I think there's a rotten egg sandwich, in there. You should probably get out."
Reply
An alternate universe.
He looked around the bumper car rink for a moment, then back at Abed, frowning.
"Paintball is really complicated this year."
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"I think we've stumbled into a parallel timeline. Like the final season of Lost. Only, it seems unlikely that we're all dead and this is some non-denominational waiting room, before we cross over to the other side."
He'd never been a huge fan of that story line, truth be told.
Reply
"What happened to everyone else, then?" Abed hadn't mentioned Britta or Shirley or even Pierce. Maybe they'd been eaten by that smog monster.
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"They're not here yet. Well, Britta was, but she's not anymore. But with the four of us here, it's got to be only a matter of time."
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That was probably what the whole Fort Hawthorne thing had been about anyway; no one's formed an alliance with Pierce once the game had started. To be fair, though, it'd pretty much been every man for himself when the giant ice cream cone had brought out the paintball guns.
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There was something comforting in routine.
"I moved in to the dorms, that way," he said, pointing toward the compound, "I sleep in a room with a vampire and Severus Snape, only he doesn't look like Alan Rickman."
Reply
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