Flushed Away 1 10 Guide

He began to roll, not towards the outflow, but towards the wall. He found a rough patch of brick, a vertical ladder of microscopic crystals. He started to climb.

He didn’t remember much before the Flush. A flash of pale blue sky, the terrifying lurch of a porcelain cliff, then the long, dizzying spiral into the dark. The journey had been a blur of velocity and terror, a ten-second freefall that felt like a lifetime. He had tumbled past a lost toy soldier, a tangle of hair, and a single, inexplicably shiny penny. Then, impact. Soft, merciful, wet.

He didn't need a pipe.

He looked at the hundred dark tunnels. Then he looked up, at the faint, watery light from the manhole cover.

He came to rest on a sandbar of congealed… something. He didn’t have a word for it. He was new. flushed away 1 10

He landed in a pool of stagnant tea, shared a brief, silent greeting with a piece of floating parsley, and continued.

He rolled off the sandbar with a soft plip . A week in this world, and he’d already learned the rules. Surface tension was his muscle, cohesion his skeleton. He could stretch, wobble, split into two smaller selves if he wasn’t careful, and reform with a shiver. He began to roll, not towards the outflow,

At the 6th junction, he met The Warden. A greasy, iridescent slick of motor oil, sprawling and arrogant.