Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 7 on Windows Vista
>
> > > > >
> > > > > > > > The thunder rumbled ominously across a sepia sky as The Moderator schemed his evil scheme. Because the sky was sepia, everything else was reflected in shades of art-deco - Lair Legion Tower, the blimp in the sky, the car the Moderator was driving. Even the Moderator himself, in his familiar black suit and fedora hat with purple band, suited the scene.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Now...it is time," he calmly stated to himself.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > He parked his car and exited to stand outside Lair Legion Tower on Parodiopolis Main Street, all awash in marshmallow and pistachio.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Evening, Mr. Moderator Sir" said Jay Boaz, better known to the public as DoorMan, as he hurried to open the Tower's glass entry for the most important man in this Parodyverse.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "It is as I willed it," The Moderator agreed, before casting a critical eye about the assorted riff raff that waited in the crowded lobby, no doubt waiting for him. No doubt wanting something, "Where is Functionary?" he demanded the status of his possibly synthetic steward.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > CalmSereneFlunkeyBoy... dutifully responded to his master in a dull monotone. "He sends his apologies, my lord, but his ward has yet again frozen him to a signpost. We are currently trying to free the canines who had the misfortune of licking him and found their tongues trapped."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Release the fire-breathing grizzlies to thaw them out!" the Moderator ordered his Halcyon Henchman, "And then bring Functionary to the throne room; burned or freezerburned, it is of no consequence to me!"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > The Moderator kept the populace of this Earth pacified with his henchmen, Content Filter, who censored dissent in the news media, and LOL INTERNET, who produced mind-numbing, distracting entertainment. Dissent was by definition evil, of course, since The Moderator was the savior of all mankind and therefore loved by every right thinking individual. Mind-numbing, distracting entertainment was perhaps an evil as well, but rather on the scale of the useful, lesser evils... one that could easily be overlooked for the greater good, much like bingo night down at Holy Mercy. It turned out that running a peaceful world required the careful coordination of many lesser but useful evils, which is where Functionary came in... Literally and figuratively.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Er..." A dripping man in a green coat interrupted carefully. "I'm here! There's no need, sir... for the grizzlies, I mean. At least in this instance. I'm sure there's some very good reasons for fire-breathing grizzlies in general." He assured the room. "I can't think why God or geneticists never thought to make them before. Honest."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Well, Zhe Doctor zhat created me, she had some plans..." a three foot tall, talking, bipedal pig chimed in from behind the Functionary's dripping coat with a noticably French accent. "Although in zhe testing phase, eet did not go quite as planned... Eet turned out zhe fire did not come so much with their breath as, how you say, with their..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Not now, Brap" Functionary hissed nervously. "A-heh. Um... you wanted to see me? Sir?"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Hardly" The Moderator noted icily. "What are these citizens doing cluttering up the lobby?"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Oh, right... Um... I know this one..." Functionary assured. "This is Mr. Mac Fleetwood. He and these others are residents of Hell's Bathroom, specifically the neighborhood that was, um... kind of trashed... in last week's fight between the Lair Legion and the Yurt."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Don't you mean "demolished as part of a long-planned Urban Renewal Project"..." the leader of the Lair Legion suggested dangerously. "Or can't you even be bothered to watch the broadcasts you oversee?"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "We don't need your propaganda to tell us what happens in our own neighborhood!" Mr. Fleetwood pointed out.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Er... well..." Functionary explained. "They do kind of have a point, though... don't they? I mean, the Yurt is pretty hard to miss, and not the kind of thing you forget. And the Legion *did* kind of defeat him by dropping much of Hell's Bathroom on his head, one structure at a time..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Fight buildings with buildings, I always say!" Scarlet Lawnmower snickered from his place leaning against the doors of the glass elevator that led to the Lair Levels of the Tower. "Anyway, we saved their lives... What do they want us to do about it now?"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Pay for damages!" a voice in the crowd yelled. "Help us rebuild!" another chimed in.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "These people were left homeless..." Mac argued. "The city's shelters are already overfilled. There's no place for many to go..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "I can tell 'em where to go" Lawnmower suggested.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Well, now... hold on..." Functionary said.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "We have videotape of what really happened!" Mr. Fleetwood argued. "And we'll take it to the real press if you won't help us. You have responsibilities!"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Indeed" The Moderator said. "And Great Power. Which means you no longer have any videotape." He waved his hands and suddenly the angry crowd vanished completely from the lobby. "Thank you for making sure this matter came to my attention, Functionary. There are only two types of people who get jobs like yours, you know... the ambitious and the incompetent. I knew I chose just the right type."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "You... you did just send them home, right?" Functionary asked. "I mean... naturally without the video tape. And, um... without homes... but you did just send them somewhere..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "You should be proud... it's an important job, making sure the Legion isn't distracted by the little things" The Moderator assured him as he, Scarlet Lawnmower and the other true Legionnaires entered the elevator. "It's how the rest of the team is able to do great things" he added before the doors closed and the group ascended.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > Functionary exchanged worried glances with DoorMan.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "You know, eet wasn't so much zhat zhe grizzlies themselves were bad" Brap explained absently. "I just wish zhe doctor had invested in zhe flame-retardant pooper-scooper zhat I requested..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > And The Moderator was pleased, for all was as it should be....save for one small apartment in the suburbs of Upper Wuthering Heights, GMY, where a small boy turned off his computer and said “Cor blimey, something odd is ‘appening!â€Â
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > > He is Salieri Meng, seventh smartest boy genius in the Parodyverse, and he knows what the Lair Legion has done with his hero. Now Meng must come up with a plan to rescue him: to save the Manga Shoggoth.
> > > > >
> > > > > "This would be easier if I could find the 6 'smarter' boy geniuses of the world," he was forced to admit to himself. He looked at the cover of "Timely" magazine that proclaimed his genius ranking and shook his fist. "I was robbed," he muttered as he resumed planning.
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > > "I know what I have to do," Meng says to himself. He throws a warn duffle-bag onto his bed, and hunts around his room for various items which he places in the bag – a torch, a small pick, a length of rope, a small compact keyboard with a usb port that he refers to as his “datajackâ€Â, a whistle, and a jar of sticky black liquid.
> > > > >
> > > > > “Right, all set.†He looks like an urban commando, black cargo-pants billowing out but tied in close at the feet like a Japanese carpenter would wear, a bulky black jacket that is somewhat reminiscent of a straight-jacket with its belts and ties and seems to also have numerous pockets.
> > > > >
> > > > > His hair is jet black, and flops over half his face, almost Emo, except he has not bothered to style it, he is beyond Emo.
> > > > >
> > > > > “Now, the first challenge,†he gulps as he grabs the duffle-bag and cautiously opens the bedroom door.
> > > > >
> > > > > “Salieri,†comes the whimsical sing-song voice of a woman somewhere else in the home. “Dinner is ready!â€Â
> > > > >
> > > > > “I just have to sneak past Mum,†he says to himself.
> > > > >
> > > >
> > > > Begging out of dinner by claiming he was heading to the Zero Street Mission for a Naruto Fan Club Meeting, Salieri Meng left the house and boarded the GMY Trolley.
> > > >
> > > > Once aboard, he used his Blackberry to replay the SPUD security camera footage he had managed to pirate. It showed the New Lair Legion binding the Manga Shoggoth in (to quote the Search Engineer) "ever mutable theoretical geometric rune based algorithm," then forcing the Eldrtich Horror into a "extra-terrestrial transport pod" then sending him to the "Outermost Rim of Narrative Space."
> > > >
> > > > "You're just too dangerous to have around, you suppurative carbuncle!" were the Moderator's last words to the Shoggoth before hitting the launch button that would send Salieri's hero to the edge of the known Parodyverse.
> > > >
> > > > "Having this video is not enough!" Meng exposited while flipping his hair, "No media outlet will run it. I need to bring the Shoggoth back."
> > > >
> > > > To that end he began making a list of what he would require to do so:
> > > >
> > > > A method of hyper-dimensional transport
> > > > A method of translating the runes that formed the equations that bound the Shoggoth
> > > > A method of mathematically solving the equation that bound the Shoggoth.
> > > >
> > > > In his mind, there was only one place to go for such aid.
> > >
> > > Luckily, that place was the very next stop.
> > >
> > > "Sixways, Sixways," monotoned the robotic voice system of the trolley.
> > >
> > > Salieri jumped from his seat, and exited hastily. A light drizzle was falling in the early evening light as he stepped down onto the pavement.
> > >
> > > He made his way across a pedestrian crossing to a two storey red-brick building with an oversized garage door. The old Sixways Firehouse.
> > >
> > > “The secret home of the EEE!†the young genius breathed to himself in awe. He gingerly approached the main door.
> > >
> > > "The seventh smartest pre-adolescent on the planet should not be reduced to locating then seeking aid from some kind of back-street laundry," complained Salieri as he stepped over piles of wet linen in a musty old doorway.
>
>
> "Well, someone had to do the washing around here, it was getting out of hand," said a female voice. Salieri looked up and saw that the speaker was a twenty-something brunette wearing a grease-stained pair of old overalls.
>
> “Who are you?†the boy genius asked the woman, blushing somewhat as his mind decided she was wearing nothing at all under the overalls.
>
> “The question is who are you kid?†came the gruff voice of a man behind him. Salieri jumped and turned to face a stocky built man with blond top knot. He was wearing…well…a black domino face mask and a pair of Tweety Bird boxer shorts. Luckily, Salieri was too young to wonder if he was interrupting anything.
>
> “I’m Salieri Meng, and I’m here to see Professor Harper. Only he can design the hyper-dimensional transport needed to restore my hero, the Manga Shoggoth, and thus the world, to its rightful state.
>
> The woman’s face darkens, “Oh…I’m sorry Salieri. Al…Professor Harper that is…he’s missing,†she chokes.
>
> “He didn’t return from the geek convention he attended last Thursday,†the man added, “Ever since the Moderator banned all scientific experimentation, we knew Harper would be in danger.â€Â
>
> “We now fear that the SPAM Control have got him,†the woman whispers.
>
> Salieri shudders at the name, the infamous SPAM Control. The Moderator’s right hand men and women who enforce his laws with a fanatical dominance. This was the world they all lived in now. And only Salieri seemed to know that it was not right.
>
> The woman notices the boy shudder and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It will be alright,†she says, though it seems as though she is saying it to herself as much as to Salieri. “I’m Amy by the way, let me get this load of washing on and then you can tell me all about the Manga Shoggoth?†she smiles at Salieri. “And KS…I will get to wash those shorts too!†she adds, turning to face the top-knotted man, but he had stealthy evaded her yet again and was no longer there.
>
>
|
The Moderator, though lord and master of all he surveyed, was not as pleased as he would have liked.
"I know he is up to something. He seeks to test me, to trick me" the man in the black fedora said.
Scarlet Lawnmower hit the pause button on his massage recliner, "Uh, who, boss?"
"The Hooded Hood," Moderator hissed back.
"Isn't he dead?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" the leader of the New Lair Legion mused, as he absently spun the globe that stood next to his own throne.
Scarlet Lawnmower watched the man who plucked him from oblivion, then shrugged, "Nothing. I guess. I just think you need to relax a little. Enjoy the fruits of our victory, as it were."
"Oh, really?" The Moderator used his power to delete his underling's chair right out from under him, "What victory? What have we truly earned?!"
Rubbing his backside, the Lawnmower slowly rose to his feet, "Well, we beat the Lair Legion. Made them all into our peons. Er, your peons, that is. Boss."
"Hm," The Moderator considered this, "Link!"
Over the intercomm the New Lair Legion's sole female member answered, "Yes, sir?"
"Bring me Dr. Bellums from SPAM Control."
There was a flash of light, and the director of SPAM's Unethical Science Division materialized.
"Mr. Moderator," the little man in the surgical smock said as kowtowingly as he could, "I was just about to call you."
"With good news, I hope."
"Of course, of course," Bellums wiped his significant forehead with his sleeve, "The operation was a success."
"So it is functional?"
"Yes, sir. I successfully grafted together Harper's and Framlicker's left brain hemispheres."
"Whose body are they stored in?" The Moderator inquired.
Bellums pushed his spectacles up his nose, "Framlicker's, sir. It was more advantageous, from a surgical standpoint."
"I bet," Scarlet Lawnmower snickered. He'd seen the woman's centerfold.
"The end result is an organic computing system with a processing capacity that only she, er, it, can quantify," Dr. Bellums said, "Its all very exciting."
"My only concern, doctor, is if it can do the required task: predict and counter any obstacles to my rule," The Moderator rose ominously, "Can it?"
"Of course, of course. The Al 362436 is yours to command."
"Splendid," Moderator chuckled.
|
Anime Jason 
Owner
Location: Here
Member Since: Sun Sep 12, 2004
Posts: 2,834
|
Subject: Interesting reading so far, but I'm still stuck on coming up with something to add. [Re: Al B. Harper]
Posted Sun Jan 13, 2008 at 01:43:48 am EST (Viewed 593 times) |
|
|
anime.mangacool.net
(10.0.255.1)
using
Apple Safari 3.0.4 on MacOS X (0 points)
|
CrazySugarFreakBoy!
Member Since: Sun Jan 04, 2004
Posts: 1,235
|
Subject: A Frankenlicker monster? [Re: killer shrike]
Posted Sun Jan 13, 2008 at 04:17:14 am EST (Viewed 478 times) |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 7 on Windows XP
|
Visionary
|
Subject: The Mouse awoke with a snort, bolting upright in her chair in front of the computer console... [Re: killer shrike]
Posted Sun Jan 13, 2008 at 11:37:07 am EST (Viewed 2 times) |
|
|
Posted with Mozilla Firefox 2.0.0.11 on Windows XP
The Mouse awoke with a snort, bolting upright in her chair in front of the computer console. With a groan she wiped a bit of drool from her cheek with the back of her hand, then checked her watch. "Oh, damn!" she swore softly, blinking at the time. Her contact lenses had dried, making her eyeballs feel tight and constricted, plus she had an awful taste in her mouth from the vending machine snack cake she had eaten earlier. This, combined with the omnipresent headache she had these days, left her feeling more lousy than she had when she had dozed off to start with.
She rolled across the lab to key up the results of the latest analysis, which had hopefully finished compiling by now. The data scrolled across the screen at a rapid clip, but the young scientist had no trouble keeping up. Unfortunately, the news wasn't good.
"No identifiable vibration" she sighed to herself. "How can this version of the Parodyverse not have a recognizable quantum vibration?" The more accurate question in layman's terms, she had to admit, was "Where the hell are we?" Damn that Hooded Hood. Just when she had thought she had their jumps all mapped out...
She longed for the good old days when her theoretical sciences were still theoretical. Before The Moderator had come to her, with his quantum editing powers, and inquired about her theories on traversing between universes. Before he had found the Link, who had the spacial component necessary to her theory. Before he had found...
She flushed and tore her thoughts away. Some secrets weren't safe to even think about... especially secrets of The Moderator. She had theories on what happened to the things he edited out of existence, but no desire to put them to the test personally.
"Heya Mousy" the voice of the Scarlet Lawnmower called out from behind her. "Got a special delivery for you."
Inwardly she groaned. She longed for the days before that damn nickname... although she had to admit that it likely wouldn't have stuck if it didn't fit her so well. "You can just leave it on the counter please, Mr. Reed" she called back softly.
"I could, but it could go bad... and that'd be a shame with this particular piece of meat."
"I... Meat?" Hesitantly, she turned and exited the testing station into the larger lab. A medical bed had been wheeled into the room, complete with monitors and I.V. bags.
The cocky Scarlet Legionnaire was holding up the patient's bedsheets and whistling in admiration. "Doc says she... er... "it" will be waking up soon. Get her... or whatever... cleaned up and dressed. The boss will be down sometime later to question it."
"What? Wait... who... Dressed? Dressed in what?"
"I dunno toots... Whatever you got that will fit 'er. Preferably something that won't make her look like a drab, flat-chested nerdlinger like yourself, as that would be an absolute crime." He turned and headed for the door.
"Wait... who is she?" the Mouse called out after him.
"Your replacement, I'd say" he snickered. "The boss is looking for a brain trust that'll get results... not whine incessantly about "the consequences". This one's looks are just a bonus." He gave her a wink just before the elevator doors closed.
The Mouse swallowed hard and approached the patient on the bed, feeling sick to her stomach. This time she was sure it was not caused by the progressive quantum fallout that she "whined incessantly" about (symptoms could include nausea, migraines, erectile dysfunction, restless leg syndrome and, of course, progressive dementia... followed by cellular decay and total body liquification in extreme cases, though the men on the team worried more about the erectile bit.) She had an antidote that looked promising... if only...
The patient groaned and shifted. No, not patient... She could see the restraints on the bed. Prisoner. And chart was filled out in Dr. Bellum's illegible handwriting. She didn't want to think about how likely it was that whatever procedure this person underwent was voluntary. Oh, how she longed for the days when science seemed like a bright and hopeful field... back in college when it was just her and...
"Muffy!" she gasped in shock as the patient stirred, turning her head to look at her. "Oh god... Muffy?! What... what have they done to you?"
The figure in the bed tried to focus on her, although she had trouble getting her eyes to go in the same direction. "W...who?" she gasped with a dry throat. "H... H..."
"Helen" the Mouse answered, grasping the bound figure's own hand in her left, and stroking the bandaged forehead with her right. "It's Helen McAllistair... your old roommate. Shhhhhh... Hold on, I'll help you." She swallowed again, this time with resolve. "I'll help you" she repeated.
To be continued, I'd hope.
|
|
Visionary with story comments inside.
|
Subject: And apparently it's its own bride as well... [Re: CrazySugarFreakBoy!]
Posted Sun Jan 13, 2008 at 12:10:10 pm EST |
|
|
Posted with Mozilla Firefox 2.0.0.11 on Windows XP
An amusing concept, which should bring lots of fun as the story continues. I'm sure Al will be of two minds about it, though. Ba-dum-bum. I really have no idea where any of this is going, but I penned another short (and exposition heavy, comedy light unfortunately) bit for it and posted it.
I'm also enjoying the adventures of young Salieri, boy genius. Hey, seventh in the world is not bad... plus, how many of the others get to hang around with hot women wearing nothing but overalls? That's the kind of life experiences you can't get from book learning.
|
killer shrike
|
Subject: Ooh. Good one. [Re: Visionary]
Posted Sun Jan 13, 2008 at 12:10:28 pm EST |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 7 on Windows Vista
>
>
>
>
>
> The Mouse awoke with a snort, bolting upright in her chair in front of the computer console. With a groan she wiped a bit of drool from her cheek with the back of her hand, then checked her watch. "Oh, damn!" she swore softly, blinking at the time. Her contact lenses had dried, making her eyeballs feel tight and constricted, plus she had an awful taste in her mouth from the vending machine snack cake she had eaten earlier. This, combined with the omnipresent headache she had these days, left her feeling more lousy than she had when she had dozed off to start with.
>
> She rolled across the lab to key up the results of the latest analysis, which had hopefully finished compiling by now. The data scrolled across the screen at a rapid clip, but the young scientist had no trouble keeping up. Unfortunately, the news wasn't good.
>
> "No identifiable vibration" she sighed to herself. "How can this version of the Parodyverse not have a recognizable quantum vibration?" The more accurate question in layman's terms, she had to admit, was "Where the hell are we?" Damn that Hooded Hood. Just when she had thought she had their jumps all mapped out...
>
> She longed for the good old days when her theoretical sciences were still theoretical. Before The Moderator had come to her, with his quantum editing powers, and inquired about her theories on traversing between universes. Before he had found the Link, who had the spacial component necessary to her theory. Before he had found...
>
> She flushed and tore her thoughts away. Some secrets weren't safe to even think about... especially secrets of The Moderator. She had theories on what happened to the things he edited out of existence, but no desire to put them to the test personally.
>
> "Heya Mousy" the voice of the Scarlet Lawnmower called out from behind her. "Got a special delivery for you."
>
> Inwardly she groaned. She longed for the days before that damn nickname... although she had to admit that it likely wouldn't have stuck if it didn't fit her so well. "You can just leave it on the counter please, Mr. Reed" she called back softly.
>
> "I could, but it could go bad... and that'd be a shame with this particular piece of meat."
>
> "I... Meat?" Hesitantly, she turned and exited the testing station into the larger lab. A medical bed had been wheeled into the room, complete with monitors and I.V. bags.
>
> The cocky Scarlet Legionnaire was holding up the patient's bedsheets and whistling in admiration. "Doc says she... er... "it" will be waking up soon. Get her... or whatever... cleaned up and dressed. The boss will be down sometime later to question it."
>
> "What? Wait... who... Dressed? Dressed in what?"
>
> "I dunno toots... Whatever you got that will fit 'er. Preferably something that won't make her look like a drab, flat-chested nerdlinger like yourself, as that would be an absolute crime." He turned and headed for the door.
>
> "Wait... who is she?" the Mouse called out after him.
>
> "Your replacement, I'd say" he snickered. "The boss is looking for a brain trust that'll get results... not whine incessantly about "the consequences". This one's looks are just a bonus." He gave her a wink just before the elevator doors closed.
>
> The Mouse swallowed hard and approached the patient on the bed, feeling sick to her stomach. This time she was sure it was not caused by the progressive quantum fallout that she "whined incessantly" about (symptoms could include nausea, migraines, erectile dysfunction, restless leg syndrome and, of course, progressive dementia... followed by cellular decay and total body liquification in extreme cases, though the men on the team worried more about the erectile bit.) She had an antidote that looked promising... if only...
>
> The patient groaned and shifted. No, not patient... She could see the restraints on the bed. Prisoner. And chart was filled out in Dr. Bellum's illegible handwriting. She didn't want to think about how likely it was that whatever procedure this person underwent was voluntary. Oh, how she longed for the days when science seemed like a bright and hopeful field... back in college when it was just her and...
>
> "Muffy!" she gasped in shock as the patient stirred, turning her head to look at her. "Oh god... Muffy?! What... what have they done to you?"
>
> The figure in the bed tried to focus on her, although she had trouble getting her eyes to go in the same direction. "W...who?" she gasped with a dry throat. "H... H..."
>
> "Helen" the Mouse answered, grasping the bound figure's own hand in her left, and stroking the bandaged forehead with her right. "It's Helen McAllistair... your old roommate. Shhhhhh... Hold on, I'll help you." She swallowed again, this time with resolve. "I'll help you" she repeated.
>
>
>
>
> To be continued, I'd hope.
>
> |
>
|
|
killer shrike
|
Subject: Re: And apparently it's its own bride as well... [Re: Visionary with story comments inside.]
Posted Sun Jan 13, 2008 at 12:19:38 pm EST |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 7 on Windows Vista
> An amusing concept, which should bring lots of fun as the story continues. I'm sure Al will be of two minds about it, though. Ba-dum-bum. I really have no idea where any of this is going, but I penned another short (and exposition heavy, comedy light unfortunately) bit for it and posted it.
>
|
Not knowing where it is headed is half the fun, of course. I have an idea on how to move the 'rescue the Shoggoth' storyline forward, at least, but I'm going to hold off and see if anyone else moves on that particular story strand. The more the merrier, as they say.
> I'm also enjoying the adventures of young Salieri, boy genius. Hey, seventh in the world is not bad... plus, how many of the others get to hang around with hot women wearing nothing but overalls? That's the kind of life experiences you can't get from book learning.
|
I liked the introduction of the kid, and Al's chapter with Amy and KS was good fun.
|
Visionary
|
Subject: I'm sure this won't complicate things any more than they already are. Probably. [Re: killer shrike]
Posted Sun Jan 13, 2008 at 12:54:12 pm EST |
|
|
Posted with Mozilla Firefox 2.0.0.11 on Windows XP
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> > The Mouse awoke with a snort, bolting upright in her chair in front of the computer console. With a groan she wiped a bit of drool from her cheek with the back of her hand, then checked her watch. "Oh, damn!" she swore softly, blinking at the time. Her contact lenses had dried, making her eyeballs feel tight and constricted, plus she had an awful taste in her mouth from the vending machine snack cake she had eaten earlier. This, combined with the omnipresent headache she had these days, left her feeling more lousy than she had when she had dozed off to start with.
> >
> > She rolled across the lab to key up the results of the latest analysis, which had hopefully finished compiling by now. The data scrolled across the screen at a rapid clip, but the young scientist had no trouble keeping up. Unfortunately, the news wasn't good.
> >
> > "No identifiable vibration" she sighed to herself. "How can this version of the Parodyverse not have a recognizable quantum vibration?" The more accurate question in layman's terms, she had to admit, was "Where the hell are we?" Damn that Hooded Hood. Just when she had thought she had their jumps all mapped out...
> >
> > She longed for the good old days when her theoretical sciences were still theoretical. Before The Moderator had come to her, with his quantum editing powers, and inquired about her theories on traversing between universes. Before he had found the Link, who had the spacial component necessary to her theory. Before he had found...
> >
> > She flushed and tore her thoughts away. Some secrets weren't safe to even think about... especially secrets of The Moderator. She had theories on what happened to the things he edited out of existence, but no desire to put them to the test personally.
> >
> > "Heya Mousy" the voice of the Scarlet Lawnmower called out from behind her. "Got a special delivery for you."
> >
> > Inwardly she groaned. She longed for the days before that damn nickname... although she had to admit that it likely wouldn't have stuck if it didn't fit her so well. "You can just leave it on the counter please, Mr. Reed" she called back softly.
> >
> > "I could, but it could go bad... and that'd be a shame with this particular piece of meat."
> >
> > "I... Meat?" Hesitantly, she turned and exited the testing station into the larger lab. A medical bed had been wheeled into the room, complete with monitors and I.V. bags.
> >
> > The cocky Scarlet Legionnaire was holding up the patient's bedsheets and whistling in admiration. "Doc says she... er... "it" will be waking up soon. Get her... or whatever... cleaned up and dressed. The boss will be down sometime later to question it."
> >
> > "What? Wait... who... Dressed? Dressed in what?"
> >
> > "I dunno toots... Whatever you got that will fit 'er. Preferably something that won't make her look like a drab, flat-chested nerdlinger like yourself, as that would be an absolute crime." He turned and headed for the door.
> >
> > "Wait... who is she?" the Mouse called out after him.
> >
> > "Your replacement, I'd say" he snickered. "The boss is looking for a brain trust that'll get results... not whine incessantly about "the consequences". This one's looks are just a bonus." He gave her a wink just before the elevator doors closed.
> >
> > The Mouse swallowed hard and approached the patient on the bed, feeling sick to her stomach. This time she was sure it was not caused by the progressive quantum fallout that she "whined incessantly" about (symptoms could include nausea, migraines, erectile dysfunction, restless leg syndrome and, of course, progressive dementia... followed by cellular decay and total body liquification in extreme cases, though the men on the team worried more about the erectile bit.) She had an antidote that looked promising... if only...
> >
> > The patient groaned and shifted. No, not patient... She could see the restraints on the bed. Prisoner. And chart was filled out in Dr. Bellum's illegible handwriting. She didn't want to think about how likely it was that whatever procedure this person underwent was voluntary. Oh, how she longed for the days when science seemed like a bright and hopeful field... back in college when it was just her and...
> >
> > "Muffy!" she gasped in shock as the patient stirred, turning her head to look at her. "Oh god... Muffy?! What... what have they done to you?"
> >
> > The figure in the bed tried to focus on her, although she had trouble getting her eyes to go in the same direction. "W...who?" she gasped with a dry throat. "H... H..."
> >
> > "Helen" the Mouse answered, grasping the bound figure's own hand in her left, and stroking the bandaged forehead with her right. "It's Helen McAllistair... your old roommate. Shhhhhh... Hold on, I'll help you." She swallowed again, this time with resolve. "I'll help you" she repeated.
> >
> >
> >
> >
> > To be continued, I'd hope.
> >
> > |
> >
|
|
L!
Location: Seattle, Washington
Member Since: Sun Jan 04, 2004
Posts: 1,038
|
Subject: Does no one want to answer my questions? I thought they were funny but I guess I'm the only one. :( [Re: L!]
Posted Sun Jan 13, 2008 at 06:01:37 pm EST (Viewed 582 times) |
|
|
Posted with Apple Safari 3.0.4 on MacOS X
|
killer shrike
|
Subject: You could always write a bit that answers those questions. :) [Re: L!]
Posted Mon Jan 14, 2008 at 01:55:29 pm EST |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 7 on Windows Vista
|
CrazySugarFreakBoy!
Member Since: Sun Jan 04, 2004
Posts: 1,235
|
Subject: Dun-dun-duuunnn!!! :) [Re: Visionary]
Posted Mon Jan 14, 2008 at 11:20:10 pm EST (Viewed 514 times) |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 7 on Windows XP
|
Visionary
|
Subject: I'm sure she's perfectly nice. [Re: CrazySugarFreakBoy!]
Posted Tue Jan 15, 2008 at 12:40:18 am EST |
|
|
Posted with Mozilla Firefox 2.0.0.11 on Windows XP
|
Hatman
|
Subject: Dammit! My first attempt at the next part was lost when the PV went down right when I hit "Post". Below is my attempt at the re-creation [Re: Visionary]
Posted Tue Jan 15, 2008 at 01:11:12 pm EST (Viewed 546 times) |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 7 on Windows XP
>
>
>
>
>
> The Mouse awoke with a snort, bolting upright in her chair in front of the computer console. With a groan she wiped a bit of drool from her cheek with the back of her hand, then checked her watch. "Oh, damn!" she swore softly, blinking at the time. Her contact lenses had dried, making her eyeballs feel tight and constricted, plus she had an awful taste in her mouth from the vending machine snack cake she had eaten earlier. This, combined with the omnipresent headache she had these days, left her feeling more lousy than she had when she had dozed off to start with.
>
> She rolled across the lab to key up the results of the latest analysis, which had hopefully finished compiling by now. The data scrolled across the screen at a rapid clip, but the young scientist had no trouble keeping up. Unfortunately, the news wasn't good.
>
> "No identifiable vibration" she sighed to herself. "How can this version of the Parodyverse not have a recognizable quantum vibration?" The more accurate question in layman's terms, she had to admit, was "Where the hell are we?" Damn that Hooded Hood. Just when she had thought she had their jumps all mapped out...
>
> She longed for the good old days when her theoretical sciences were still theoretical. Before The Moderator had come to her, with his quantum editing powers, and inquired about her theories on traversing between universes. Before he had found the Link, who had the spacial component necessary to her theory. Before he had found...
>
> She flushed and tore her thoughts away. Some secrets weren't safe to even think about... especially secrets of The Moderator. She had theories on what happened to the things he edited out of existence, but no desire to put them to the test personally.
>
> "Heya Mousy" the voice of the Scarlet Lawnmower called out from behind her. "Got a special delivery for you."
>
> Inwardly she groaned. She longed for the days before that damn nickname... although she had to admit that it likely wouldn't have stuck if it didn't fit her so well. "You can just leave it on the counter please, Mr. Reed" she called back softly.
>
> "I could, but it could go bad... and that'd be a shame with this particular piece of meat."
>
> "I... Meat?" Hesitantly, she turned and exited the testing station into the larger lab. A medical bed had been wheeled into the room, complete with monitors and I.V. bags.
>
> The cocky Scarlet Legionnaire was holding up the patient's bedsheets and whistling in admiration. "Doc says she... er... "it" will be waking up soon. Get her... or whatever... cleaned up and dressed. The boss will be down sometime later to question it."
>
> "What? Wait... who... Dressed? Dressed in what?"
>
> "I dunno toots... Whatever you got that will fit 'er. Preferably something that won't make her look like a drab, flat-chested nerdlinger like yourself, as that would be an absolute crime." He turned and headed for the door.
>
> "Wait... who is she?" the Mouse called out after him.
>
> "Your replacement, I'd say" he snickered. "The boss is looking for a brain trust that'll get results... not whine incessantly about "the consequences". This one's looks are just a bonus." He gave her a wink just before the elevator doors closed.
>
> The Mouse swallowed hard and approached the patient on the bed, feeling sick to her stomach. This time she was sure it was not caused by the progressive quantum fallout that she "whined incessantly" about (symptoms could include nausea, migraines, erectile dysfunction, restless leg syndrome and, of course, progressive dementia... followed by cellular decay and total body liquification in extreme cases, though the men on the team worried more about the erectile bit.) She had an antidote that looked promising... if only...
>
> The patient groaned and shifted. No, not patient... She could see the restraints on the bed. Prisoner. And chart was filled out in Dr. Bellum's illegible handwriting. She didn't want to think about how likely it was that whatever procedure this person underwent was voluntary. Oh, how she longed for the days when science seemed like a bright and hopeful field... back in college when it was just her and...
>
> "Muffy!" she gasped in shock as the patient stirred, turning her head to look at her. "Oh god... Muffy?! What... what have they done to you?"
>
> The figure in the bed tried to focus on her, although she had trouble getting her eyes to go in the same direction. "W...who?" she gasped with a dry throat. "H... H..."
>
> "Helen" the Mouse answered, grasping the bound figure's own hand in her left, and stroking the bandaged forehead with her right. "It's Helen McAllistair... your old roommate. Shhhhhh... Hold on, I'll help you." She swallowed again, this time with resolve. "I'll help you" she repeated.
>
>
>
>
> To be continued, I'd hope.
>
> |
>
|
|
Hatman
|
Subject: Salieri Ming's fingers danced across the keyboard of the dusty PC in the corner. [Re: Hatman]
Posted Tue Jan 15, 2008 at 01:27:16 pm EST (Viewed 593 times) |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 7 on Windows XP
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> > The Mouse awoke with a snort, bolting upright in her chair in front of the computer console. With a groan she wiped a bit of drool from her cheek with the back of her hand, then checked her watch. "Oh, damn!" she swore softly, blinking at the time. Her contact lenses had dried, making her eyeballs feel tight and constricted, plus she had an awful taste in her mouth from the vending machine snack cake she had eaten earlier. This, combined with the omnipresent headache she had these days, left her feeling more lousy than she had when she had dozed off to start with.
> >
> > She rolled across the lab to key up the results of the latest analysis, which had hopefully finished compiling by now. The data scrolled across the screen at a rapid clip, but the young scientist had no trouble keeping up. Unfortunately, the news wasn't good.
> >
> > "No identifiable vibration" she sighed to herself. "How can this version of the Parodyverse not have a recognizable quantum vibration?" The more accurate question in layman's terms, she had to admit, was "Where the hell are we?" Damn that Hooded Hood. Just when she had thought she had their jumps all mapped out...
> >
> > She longed for the good old days when her theoretical sciences were still theoretical. Before The Moderator had come to her, with his quantum editing powers, and inquired about her theories on traversing between universes. Before he had found the Link, who had the spacial component necessary to her theory. Before he had found...
> >
> > She flushed and tore her thoughts away. Some secrets weren't safe to even think about... especially secrets of The Moderator. She had theories on what happened to the things he edited out of existence, but no desire to put them to the test personally.
> >
> > "Heya Mousy" the voice of the Scarlet Lawnmower called out from behind her. "Got a special delivery for you."
> >
> > Inwardly she groaned. She longed for the days before that damn nickname... although she had to admit that it likely wouldn't have stuck if it didn't fit her so well. "You can just leave it on the counter please, Mr. Reed" she called back softly.
> >
> > "I could, but it could go bad... and that'd be a shame with this particular piece of meat."
> >
> > "I... Meat?" Hesitantly, she turned and exited the testing station into the larger lab. A medical bed had been wheeled into the room, complete with monitors and I.V. bags.
> >
> > The cocky Scarlet Legionnaire was holding up the patient's bedsheets and whistling in admiration. "Doc says she... er... "it" will be waking up soon. Get her... or whatever... cleaned up and dressed. The boss will be down sometime later to question it."
> >
> > "What? Wait... who... Dressed? Dressed in what?"
> >
> > "I dunno toots... Whatever you got that will fit 'er. Preferably something that won't make her look like a drab, flat-chested nerdlinger like yourself, as that would be an absolute crime." He turned and headed for the door.
> >
> > "Wait... who is she?" the Mouse called out after him.
> >
> > "Your replacement, I'd say" he snickered. "The boss is looking for a brain trust that'll get results... not whine incessantly about "the consequences". This one's looks are just a bonus." He gave her a wink just before the elevator doors closed.
> >
> > The Mouse swallowed hard and approached the patient on the bed, feeling sick to her stomach. This time she was sure it was not caused by the progressive quantum fallout that she "whined incessantly" about (symptoms could include nausea, migraines, erectile dysfunction, restless leg syndrome and, of course, progressive dementia... followed by cellular decay and total body liquification in extreme cases, though the men on the team worried more about the erectile bit.) She had an antidote that looked promising... if only...
> >
> > The patient groaned and shifted. No, not patient... She could see the restraints on the bed. Prisoner. And chart was filled out in Dr. Bellum's illegible handwriting. She didn't want to think about how likely it was that whatever procedure this person underwent was voluntary. Oh, how she longed for the days when science seemed like a bright and hopeful field... back in college when it was just her and...
> >
> > "Muffy!" she gasped in shock as the patient stirred, turning her head to look at her. "Oh god... Muffy?! What... what have they done to you?"
> >
> > The figure in the bed tried to focus on her, although she had trouble getting her eyes to go in the same direction. "W...who?" she gasped with a dry throat. "H... H..."
> >
> > "Helen" the Mouse answered, grasping the bound figure's own hand in her left, and stroking the bandaged forehead with her right. "It's Helen McAllistair... your old roommate. Shhhhhh... Hold on, I'll help you." She swallowed again, this time with resolve. "I'll help you" she repeated.
|
* * * * *
Salieri Ming's fingers danced across the keyboard of the dusty PC in the corner. While this version of the Internet was different from the one he was used to, he nevertheless bent all of his considerable brainpower to the task at hand. Amy noted the determined look on his face and the bead of sweat trickling down his brow.
"I did it!" he suddenly exclaimed, punching the Enter key with a grand flourish to emphasize his accomplishment.
"You found the Shoggoth?" Amy asked him. Salieri had explained what the Shoggoth was and she didn't really see why the boy genius needed to find him; he sounded like murder on the carpet.
"Er, no, not just yet," he admitted. He turned back to the screen and quickly navigated away from the hacked "Timely Magazine" server.
The Parodyverse's smartest boy genius once again concentrated on the computer, looking for any stray mention of the Shoggoth in cyberspace. Finally, he found something.
"I think I've found him," he said neutrally.
"Isn't that a good thing?" asked a puzzled Amy.
"Well, he's got bodyguards," explained Salieri.
Killer Shrike approached them in his newly-clean uniform. He plucked a stray dryer sheet from his shoulder and let it fall to the ground; he hated static cling. "No problem, that's where I come in."
"Well, the first bodyguard is a woman named Whitney Darkness. She's one of the most powerful witches on the planet. In my reality, she's simply called the Sorceress." Salieri punched a few more keys. "The good news is I'm pretty sure it's taking a lot of her concentration to lock something like the Shoggoth up."
"No problem, we take her from behind," responded Killer Shrike.
"Eww," commented Amy.
"The problem is, she has a bodyguard of her own. I know him in my reality as Mr. Epitome." Salieri sat back to allow his companions to see the picture on the screen.
Amy and Killer Shrike looked at the image on the screen and all hope drained from their faces. "You know him as the Dominator."
"Well, good luck with that," said Killer Shrike as he quickly left the room.
To be continued... |
killer shrike
|
Subject: Nicley done [Re: Hatman]
Posted Tue Jan 15, 2008 at 04:06:37 pm EST |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 7 on Windows Vista
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > The Mouse awoke with a snort, bolting upright in her chair in front of the computer console. With a groan she wiped a bit of drool from her cheek with the back of her hand, then checked her watch. "Oh, damn!" she swore softly, blinking at the time. Her contact lenses had dried, making her eyeballs feel tight and constricted, plus she had an awful taste in her mouth from the vending machine snack cake she had eaten earlier. This, combined with the omnipresent headache she had these days, left her feeling more lousy than she had when she had dozed off to start with.
> > >
> > > She rolled across the lab to key up the results of the latest analysis, which had hopefully finished compiling by now. The data scrolled across the screen at a rapid clip, but the young scientist had no trouble keeping up. Unfortunately, the news wasn't good.
> > >
> > > "No identifiable vibration" she sighed to herself. "How can this version of the Parodyverse not have a recognizable quantum vibration?" The more accurate question in layman's terms, she had to admit, was "Where the hell are we?" Damn that Hooded Hood. Just when she had thought she had their jumps all mapped out...
> > >
> > > She longed for the good old days when her theoretical sciences were still theoretical. Before The Moderator had come to her, with his quantum editing powers, and inquired about her theories on traversing between universes. Before he had found the Link, who had the spacial component necessary to her theory. Before he had found...
> > >
> > > She flushed and tore her thoughts away. Some secrets weren't safe to even think about... especially secrets of The Moderator. She had theories on what happened to the things he edited out of existence, but no desire to put them to the test personally.
> > >
> > > "Heya Mousy" the voice of the Scarlet Lawnmower called out from behind her. "Got a special delivery for you."
> > >
> > > Inwardly she groaned. She longed for the days before that damn nickname... although she had to admit that it likely wouldn't have stuck if it didn't fit her so well. "You can just leave it on the counter please, Mr. Reed" she called back softly.
> > >
> > > "I could, but it could go bad... and that'd be a shame with this particular piece of meat."
> > >
> > > "I... Meat?" Hesitantly, she turned and exited the testing station into the larger lab. A medical bed had been wheeled into the room, complete with monitors and I.V. bags.
> > >
> > > The cocky Scarlet Legionnaire was holding up the patient's bedsheets and whistling in admiration. "Doc says she... er... "it" will be waking up soon. Get her... or whatever... cleaned up and dressed. The boss will be down sometime later to question it."
> > >
> > > "What? Wait... who... Dressed? Dressed in what?"
> > >
> > > "I dunno toots... Whatever you got that will fit 'er. Preferably something that won't make her look like a drab, flat-chested nerdlinger like yourself, as that would be an absolute crime." He turned and headed for the door.
> > >
> > > "Wait... who is she?" the Mouse called out after him.
> > >
> > > "Your replacement, I'd say" he snickered. "The boss is looking for a brain trust that'll get results... not whine incessantly about "the consequences". This one's looks are just a bonus." He gave her a wink just before the elevator doors closed.
> > >
> > > The Mouse swallowed hard and approached the patient on the bed, feeling sick to her stomach. This time she was sure it was not caused by the progressive quantum fallout that she "whined incessantly" about (symptoms could include nausea, migraines, erectile dysfunction, restless leg syndrome and, of course, progressive dementia... followed by cellular decay and total body liquification in extreme cases, though the men on the team worried more about the erectile bit.) She had an antidote that looked promising... if only...
> > >
> > > The patient groaned and shifted. No, not patient... She could see the restraints on the bed. Prisoner. And chart was filled out in Dr. Bellum's illegible handwriting. She didn't want to think about how likely it was that whatever procedure this person underwent was voluntary. Oh, how she longed for the days when science seemed like a bright and hopeful field... back in college when it was just her and...
> > >
> > > "Muffy!" she gasped in shock as the patient stirred, turning her head to look at her. "Oh god... Muffy?! What... what have they done to you?"
> > >
> > > The figure in the bed tried to focus on her, although she had trouble getting her eyes to go in the same direction. "W...who?" she gasped with a dry throat. "H... H..."
> > >
> > > "Helen" the Mouse answered, grasping the bound figure's own hand in her left, and stroking the bandaged forehead with her right. "It's Helen McAllistair... your old roommate. Shhhhhh... Hold on, I'll help you." She swallowed again, this time with resolve. "I'll help you" she repeated.
>
> * * * * *
>
> Salieri Ming's fingers danced across the keyboard of the dusty PC in the corner. While this version of the Internet was different from the one he was used to, he nevertheless bent all of his considerable brainpower to the task at hand. Amy noted the determined look on his face and the bead of sweat trickling down his brow.
>
> "I did it!" he suddenly exclaimed, punching the Enter key with a grand flourish to emphasize his accomplishment.
>
> "You found the Shoggoth?" Amy asked him. Salieri had explained what the Shoggoth was and she didn't really see why the boy genius needed to find him; he sounded like murder on the carpet.
>
> "Er, no, not just yet," he admitted. He turned back to the screen and quickly navigated away from the hacked "Timely Magazine" server.
>
> The Parodyverse's smartest boy genius once again concentrated on the computer, looking for any stray mention of the Shoggoth in cyberspace. Finally, he found something.
>
> "I think I've found him," he said neutrally.
>
> "Isn't that a good thing?" asked a puzzled Amy.
>
> "Well, he's got bodyguards," explained Salieri.
>
> Killer Shrike approached them in his newly-clean uniform. He plucked a stray dryer sheet from his shoulder and let it fall to the ground; he hated static cling. "No problem, that's where I come in."
>
> "Well, the first bodyguard is a woman named Whitney Darkness. She's one of the most powerful witches on the planet. In my reality, she's simply called the Sorceress." Salieri punched a few more keys. "The good news is I'm pretty sure it's taking a lot of her concentration to lock something like the Shoggoth up."
>
> "No problem, we take her from behind," responded Killer Shrike.
>
> "Eww," commented Amy.
>
> "The problem is, she has a bodyguard of her own. I know him in my reality as Mr. Epitome." Salieri sat back to allow his companions to see the picture on the screen.
>
> Amy and Killer Shrike looked at the image on the screen and all hope drained from their faces. "You know him as the Dominator."
>
> "Well, good luck with that," said Killer Shrike as he quickly left the room.
>
> To be continued... |
|
|
Hatman
|
Subject: Why not tell us where Yuki is? [Re: Anime Jason]
Posted Tue Jan 15, 2008 at 05:08:44 pm EST (Viewed 585 times) |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 7 on Windows XP
|
Visionary enjoyed this.
|
Subject: If only CSFB was around to comment on that new name for Epitome... [Re: Hatman]
Posted Tue Jan 15, 2008 at 06:20:02 pm EST |
|
|
Posted with Mozilla Firefox 2.0.0.11 on Windows XP
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > The Mouse awoke with a snort, bolting upright in her chair in front of the computer console. With a groan she wiped a bit of drool from her cheek with the back of her hand, then checked her watch. "Oh, damn!" she swore softly, blinking at the time. Her contact lenses had dried, making her eyeballs feel tight and constricted, plus she had an awful taste in her mouth from the vending machine snack cake she had eaten earlier. This, combined with the omnipresent headache she had these days, left her feeling more lousy than she had when she had dozed off to start with.
> > >
> > > She rolled across the lab to key up the results of the latest analysis, which had hopefully finished compiling by now. The data scrolled across the screen at a rapid clip, but the young scientist had no trouble keeping up. Unfortunately, the news wasn't good.
> > >
> > > "No identifiable vibration" she sighed to herself. "How can this version of the Parodyverse not have a recognizable quantum vibration?" The more accurate question in layman's terms, she had to admit, was "Where the hell are we?" Damn that Hooded Hood. Just when she had thought she had their jumps all mapped out...
> > >
> > > She longed for the good old days when her theoretical sciences were still theoretical. Before The Moderator had come to her, with his quantum editing powers, and inquired about her theories on traversing between universes. Before he had found the Link, who had the spacial component necessary to her theory. Before he had found...
> > >
> > > She flushed and tore her thoughts away. Some secrets weren't safe to even think about... especially secrets of The Moderator. She had theories on what happened to the things he edited out of existence, but no desire to put them to the test personally.
> > >
> > > "Heya Mousy" the voice of the Scarlet Lawnmower called out from behind her. "Got a special delivery for you."
> > >
> > > Inwardly she groaned. She longed for the days before that damn nickname... although she had to admit that it likely wouldn't have stuck if it didn't fit her so well. "You can just leave it on the counter please, Mr. Reed" she called back softly.
> > >
> > > "I could, but it could go bad... and that'd be a shame with this particular piece of meat."
> > >
> > > "I... Meat?" Hesitantly, she turned and exited the testing station into the larger lab. A medical bed had been wheeled into the room, complete with monitors and I.V. bags.
> > >
> > > The cocky Scarlet Legionnaire was holding up the patient's bedsheets and whistling in admiration. "Doc says she... er... "it" will be waking up soon. Get her... or whatever... cleaned up and dressed. The boss will be down sometime later to question it."
> > >
> > > "What? Wait... who... Dressed? Dressed in what?"
> > >
> > > "I dunno toots... Whatever you got that will fit 'er. Preferably something that won't make her look like a drab, flat-chested nerdlinger like yourself, as that would be an absolute crime." He turned and headed for the door.
> > >
> > > "Wait... who is she?" the Mouse called out after him.
> > >
> > > "Your replacement, I'd say" he snickered. "The boss is looking for a brain trust that'll get results... not whine incessantly about "the consequences". This one's looks are just a bonus." He gave her a wink just before the elevator doors closed.
> > >
> > > The Mouse swallowed hard and approached the patient on the bed, feeling sick to her stomach. This time she was sure it was not caused by the progressive quantum fallout that she "whined incessantly" about (symptoms could include nausea, migraines, erectile dysfunction, restless leg syndrome and, of course, progressive dementia... followed by cellular decay and total body liquification in extreme cases, though the men on the team worried more about the erectile bit.) She had an antidote that looked promising... if only...
> > >
> > > The patient groaned and shifted. No, not patient... She could see the restraints on the bed. Prisoner. And chart was filled out in Dr. Bellum's illegible handwriting. She didn't want to think about how likely it was that whatever procedure this person underwent was voluntary. Oh, how she longed for the days when science seemed like a bright and hopeful field... back in college when it was just her and...
> > >
> > > "Muffy!" she gasped in shock as the patient stirred, turning her head to look at her. "Oh god... Muffy?! What... what have they done to you?"
> > >
> > > The figure in the bed tried to focus on her, although she had trouble getting her eyes to go in the same direction. "W...who?" she gasped with a dry throat. "H... H..."
> > >
> > > "Helen" the Mouse answered, grasping the bound figure's own hand in her left, and stroking the bandaged forehead with her right. "It's Helen McAllistair... your old roommate. Shhhhhh... Hold on, I'll help you." She swallowed again, this time with resolve. "I'll help you" she repeated.
>
> * * * * *
>
> Salieri Ming's fingers danced across the keyboard of the dusty PC in the corner. While this version of the Internet was different from the one he was used to, he nevertheless bent all of his considerable brainpower to the task at hand. Amy noted the determined look on his face and the bead of sweat trickling down his brow.
>
> "I did it!" he suddenly exclaimed, punching the Enter key with a grand flourish to emphasize his accomplishment.
>
> "You found the Shoggoth?" Amy asked him. Salieri had explained what the Shoggoth was and she didn't really see why the boy genius needed to find him; he sounded like murder on the carpet.
>
> "Er, no, not just yet," he admitted. He turned back to the screen and quickly navigated away from the hacked "Timely Magazine" server.
>
> The Parodyverse's smartest boy genius once again concentrated on the computer, looking for any stray mention of the Shoggoth in cyberspace. Finally, he found something.
>
> "I think I've found him," he said neutrally.
>
> "Isn't that a good thing?" asked a puzzled Amy.
>
> "Well, he's got bodyguards," explained Salieri.
>
> Killer Shrike approached them in his newly-clean uniform. He plucked a stray dryer sheet from his shoulder and let it fall to the ground; he hated static cling. "No problem, that's where I come in."
>
> "Well, the first bodyguard is a woman named Whitney Darkness. She's one of the most powerful witches on the planet. In my reality, she's simply called the Sorceress." Salieri punched a few more keys. "The good news is I'm pretty sure it's taking a lot of her concentration to lock something like the Shoggoth up."
>
> "No problem, we take her from behind," responded Killer Shrike.
>
> "Eww," commented Amy.
>
> "The problem is, she has a bodyguard of her own. I know him in my reality as Mr. Epitome." Salieri sat back to allow his companions to see the picture on the screen.
>
> Amy and Killer Shrike looked at the image on the screen and all hope drained from their faces. "You know him as the Dominator."
>
> "Well, good luck with that," said Killer Shrike as he quickly left the room.
>
> To be continued... |
|
|
CrazySugarFreakBoy!
Member Since: Sun Jan 04, 2004
Posts: 1,235
|
Subject: Does he wear a costume with leather straps and a ball-gag in the mouth of his mask? :) [Re: Hatman]
Posted Tue Jan 15, 2008 at 11:45:00 pm EST (Viewed 539 times) |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 7 on Windows XP
|
Hatman
|
Subject: Depends on who writes the next chapter I guess :) [Re: CrazySugarFreakBoy!]
Posted Wed Jan 16, 2008 at 11:29:56 am EST (Viewed 567 times) |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 7 on Windows XP
|
HH
|
Subject: All good, but could we possibly edit out all the little arrow signs? [Re: Al B. Harper]
Posted Wed Jan 16, 2008 at 05:02:01 pm EST |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 6 on Windows 2000
>
> > > > >
> > > > > > > > The thunder rumbled ominously across a sepia sky as The Moderator schemed his evil scheme. Because the sky was sepia, everything else was reflected in shades of art-deco - Lair Legion Tower, the blimp in the sky, the car the Moderator was driving. Even the Moderator himself, in his familiar black suit and fedora hat with purple band, suited the scene.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Now...it is time," he calmly stated to himself.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > He parked his car and exited to stand outside Lair Legion Tower on Parodiopolis Main Street, all awash in marshmallow and pistachio.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Evening, Mr. Moderator Sir" said Jay Boaz, better known to the public as DoorMan, as he hurried to open the Tower's glass entry for the most important man in this Parodyverse.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "It is as I willed it," The Moderator agreed, before casting a critical eye about the assorted riff raff that waited in the crowded lobby, no doubt waiting for him. No doubt wanting something, "Where is Functionary?" he demanded the status of his possibly synthetic steward.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > CalmSereneFlunkeyBoy... dutifully responded to his master in a dull monotone. "He sends his apologies, my lord, but his ward has yet again frozen him to a signpost. We are currently trying to free the canines who had the misfortune of licking him and found their tongues trapped."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Release the fire-breathing grizzlies to thaw them out!" the Moderator ordered his Halcyon Henchman, "And then bring Functionary to the throne room; burned or freezerburned, it is of no consequence to me!"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > The Moderator kept the populace of this Earth pacified with his henchmen, Content Filter, who censored dissent in the news media, and LOL INTERNET, who produced mind-numbing, distracting entertainment. Dissent was by definition evil, of course, since The Moderator was the savior of all mankind and therefore loved by every right thinking individual. Mind-numbing, distracting entertainment was perhaps an evil as well, but rather on the scale of the useful, lesser evils... one that could easily be overlooked for the greater good, much like bingo night down at Holy Mercy. It turned out that running a peaceful world required the careful coordination of many lesser but useful evils, which is where Functionary came in... Literally and figuratively.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Er..." A dripping man in a green coat interrupted carefully. "I'm here! There's no need, sir... for the grizzlies, I mean. At least in this instance. I'm sure there's some very good reasons for fire-breathing grizzlies in general." He assured the room. "I can't think why God or geneticists never thought to make them before. Honest."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Well, Zhe Doctor zhat created me, she had some plans..." a three foot tall, talking, bipedal pig chimed in from behind the Functionary's dripping coat with a noticably French accent. "Although in zhe testing phase, eet did not go quite as planned... Eet turned out zhe fire did not come so much with their breath as, how you say, with their..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Not now, Brap" Functionary hissed nervously. "A-heh. Um... you wanted to see me? Sir?"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Hardly" The Moderator noted icily. "What are these citizens doing cluttering up the lobby?"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Oh, right... Um... I know this one..." Functionary assured. "This is Mr. Mac Fleetwood. He and these others are residents of Hell's Bathroom, specifically the neighborhood that was, um... kind of trashed... in last week's fight between the Lair Legion and the Yurt."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Don't you mean "demolished as part of a long-planned Urban Renewal Project"..." the leader of the Lair Legion suggested dangerously. "Or can't you even be bothered to watch the broadcasts you oversee?"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "We don't need your propaganda to tell us what happens in our own neighborhood!" Mr. Fleetwood pointed out.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Er... well..." Functionary explained. "They do kind of have a point, though... don't they? I mean, the Yurt is pretty hard to miss, and not the kind of thing you forget. And the Legion *did* kind of defeat him by dropping much of Hell's Bathroom on his head, one structure at a time..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Fight buildings with buildings, I always say!" Scarlet Lawnmower snickered from his place leaning against the doors of the glass elevator that led to the Lair Levels of the Tower. "Anyway, we saved their lives... What do they want us to do about it now?"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Pay for damages!" a voice in the crowd yelled. "Help us rebuild!" another chimed in.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "These people were left homeless..." Mac argued. "The city's shelters are already overfilled. There's no place for many to go..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "I can tell 'em where to go" Lawnmower suggested.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Well, now... hold on..." Functionary said.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "We have videotape of what really happened!" Mr. Fleetwood argued. "And we'll take it to the real press if you won't help us. You have responsibilities!"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Indeed" The Moderator said. "And Great Power. Which means you no longer have any videotape." He waved his hands and suddenly the angry crowd vanished completely from the lobby. "Thank you for making sure this matter came to my attention, Functionary. There are only two types of people who get jobs like yours, you know... the ambitious and the incompetent. I knew I chose just the right type."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "You... you did just send them home, right?" Functionary asked. "I mean... naturally without the video tape. And, um... without homes... but you did just send them somewhere..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "You should be proud... it's an important job, making sure the Legion isn't distracted by the little things" The Moderator assured him as he, Scarlet Lawnmower and the other true Legionnaires entered the elevator. "It's how the rest of the team is able to do great things" he added before the doors closed and the group ascended.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > Functionary exchanged worried glances with DoorMan.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "You know, eet wasn't so much zhat zhe grizzlies themselves were bad" Brap explained absently. "I just wish zhe doctor had invested in zhe flame-retardant pooper-scooper zhat I requested..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > And The Moderator was pleased, for all was as it should be....save for one small apartment in the suburbs of Upper Wuthering Heights, GMY, where a small boy turned off his computer and said “Cor blimey, something odd is ‘appening!â€Â
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > > He is Salieri Meng, seventh smartest boy genius in the Parodyverse, and he knows what the Lair Legion has done with his hero. Now Meng must come up with a plan to rescue him: to save the Manga Shoggoth.
> > > > >
> > > > > "This would be easier if I could find the 6 'smarter' boy geniuses of the world," he was forced to admit to himself. He looked at the cover of "Timely" magazine that proclaimed his genius ranking and shook his fist. "I was robbed," he muttered as he resumed planning.
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > > "I know what I have to do," Meng says to himself. He throws a warn duffle-bag onto his bed, and hunts around his room for various items which he places in the bag – a torch, a small pick, a length of rope, a small compact keyboard with a usb port that he refers to as his “datajackâ€Â, a whistle, and a jar of sticky black liquid.
> > > > >
> > > > > “Right, all set.†He looks like an urban commando, black cargo-pants billowing out but tied in close at the feet like a Japanese carpenter would wear, a bulky black jacket that is somewhat reminiscent of a straight-jacket with its belts and ties and seems to also have numerous pockets.
> > > > >
> > > > > His hair is jet black, and flops over half his face, almost Emo, except he has not bothered to style it, he is beyond Emo.
> > > > >
> > > > > “Now, the first challenge,†he gulps as he grabs the duffle-bag and cautiously opens the bedroom door.
> > > > >
> > > > > “Salieri,†comes the whimsical sing-song voice of a woman somewhere else in the home. “Dinner is ready!â€Â
> > > > >
> > > > > “I just have to sneak past Mum,†he says to himself.
> > > > >
> > > >
> > > > Begging out of dinner by claiming he was heading to the Zero Street Mission for a Naruto Fan Club Meeting, Salieri Meng left the house and boarded the GMY Trolley.
> > > >
> > > > Once aboard, he used his Blackberry to replay the SPUD security camera footage he had managed to pirate. It showed the New Lair Legion binding the Manga Shoggoth in (to quote the Search Engineer) "ever mutable theoretical geometric rune based algorithm," then forcing the Eldrtich Horror into a "extra-terrestrial transport pod" then sending him to the "Outermost Rim of Narrative Space."
> > > >
> > > > "You're just too dangerous to have around, you suppurative carbuncle!" were the Moderator's last words to the Shoggoth before hitting the launch button that would send Salieri's hero to the edge of the known Parodyverse.
> > > >
> > > > "Having this video is not enough!" Meng exposited while flipping his hair, "No media outlet will run it. I need to bring the Shoggoth back."
> > > >
> > > > To that end he began making a list of what he would require to do so:
> > > >
> > > > A method of hyper-dimensional transport
> > > > A method of translating the runes that formed the equations that bound the Shoggoth
> > > > A method of mathematically solving the equation that bound the Shoggoth.
> > > >
> > > > In his mind, there was only one place to go for such aid.
> > >
> > > Luckily, that place was the very next stop.
> > >
> > > "Sixways, Sixways," monotoned the robotic voice system of the trolley.
> > >
> > > Salieri jumped from his seat, and exited hastily. A light drizzle was falling in the early evening light as he stepped down onto the pavement.
> > >
> > > He made his way across a pedestrian crossing to a two storey red-brick building with an oversized garage door. The old Sixways Firehouse.
> > >
> > > “The secret home of the EEE!†the young genius breathed to himself in awe. He gingerly approached the main door.
> > >
> > > "The seventh smartest pre-adolescent on the planet should not be reduced to locating then seeking aid from some kind of back-street laundry," complained Salieri as he stepped over piles of wet linen in a musty old doorway.
>
>
> "Well, someone had to do the washing around here, it was getting out of hand," said a female voice. Salieri looked up and saw that the speaker was a twenty-something brunette wearing a grease-stained pair of old overalls.
>
> “Who are you?†the boy genius asked the woman, blushing somewhat as his mind decided she was wearing nothing at all under the overalls.
>
> “The question is who are you kid?†came the gruff voice of a man behind him. Salieri jumped and turned to face a stocky built man with blond top knot. He was wearing…well…a black domino face mask and a pair of Tweety Bird boxer shorts. Luckily, Salieri was too young to wonder if he was interrupting anything.
>
> “I’m Salieri Meng, and I’m here to see Professor Harper. Only he can design the hyper-dimensional transport needed to restore my hero, the Manga Shoggoth, and thus the world, to its rightful state.
>
> The woman’s face darkens, “Oh…I’m sorry Salieri. Al…Professor Harper that is…he’s missing,†she chokes.
>
> “He didn’t return from the geek convention he attended last Thursday,†the man added, “Ever since the Moderator banned all scientific experimentation, we knew Harper would be in danger.â€Â
>
> “We now fear that the SPAM Control have got him,†the woman whispers.
>
> Salieri shudders at the name, the infamous SPAM Control. The Moderator’s right hand men and women who enforce his laws with a fanatical dominance. This was the world they all lived in now. And only Salieri seemed to know that it was not right.
>
> The woman notices the boy shudder and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It will be alright,†she says, though it seems as though she is saying it to herself as much as to Salieri. “I’m Amy by the way, let me get this load of washing on and then you can tell me all about the Manga Shoggoth?†she smiles at Salieri. “And KS…I will get to wash those shorts too!†she adds, turning to face the top-knotted man, but he had stealthy evaded her yet again and was no longer there.
>
>
> *continued*
>
>
> |
>
|
|
jack
|
Subject: At first this SPAM control sound like heros... [Re: Al B. Harper]
Posted Thu Jan 17, 2008 at 08:56:19 pm EST |
|
|
Posted with Apple Safari 3.0.4 on MacOS X
>
> > > > >
> > > > > > > > The thunder rumbled ominously across a sepia sky as The Moderator schemed his evil scheme. Because the sky was sepia, everything else was reflected in shades of art-deco - Lair Legion Tower, the blimp in the sky, the car the Moderator was driving. Even the Moderator himself, in his familiar black suit and fedora hat with purple band, suited the scene.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Now...it is time," he calmly stated to himself.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > He parked his car and exited to stand outside Lair Legion Tower on Parodiopolis Main Street, all awash in marshmallow and pistachio.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Evening, Mr. Moderator Sir" said Jay Boaz, better known to the public as DoorMan, as he hurried to open the Tower's glass entry for the most important man in this Parodyverse.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "It is as I willed it," The Moderator agreed, before casting a critical eye about the assorted riff raff that waited in the crowded lobby, no doubt waiting for him. No doubt wanting something, "Where is Functionary?" he demanded the status of his possibly synthetic steward.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > CalmSereneFlunkeyBoy... dutifully responded to his master in a dull monotone. "He sends his apologies, my lord, but his ward has yet again frozen him to a signpost. We are currently trying to free the canines who had the misfortune of licking him and found their tongues trapped."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Release the fire-breathing grizzlies to thaw them out!" the Moderator ordered his Halcyon Henchman, "And then bring Functionary to the throne room; burned or freezerburned, it is of no consequence to me!"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > The Moderator kept the populace of this Earth pacified with his henchmen, Content Filter, who censored dissent in the news media, and LOL INTERNET, who produced mind-numbing, distracting entertainment. Dissent was by definition evil, of course, since The Moderator was the savior of all mankind and therefore loved by every right thinking individual. Mind-numbing, distracting entertainment was perhaps an evil as well, but rather on the scale of the useful, lesser evils... one that could easily be overlooked for the greater good, much like bingo night down at Holy Mercy. It turned out that running a peaceful world required the careful coordination of many lesser but useful evils, which is where Functionary came in... Literally and figuratively.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Er..." A dripping man in a green coat interrupted carefully. "I'm here! There's no need, sir... for the grizzlies, I mean. At least in this instance. I'm sure there's some very good reasons for fire-breathing grizzlies in general." He assured the room. "I can't think why God or geneticists never thought to make them before. Honest."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Well, Zhe Doctor zhat created me, she had some plans..." a three foot tall, talking, bipedal pig chimed in from behind the Functionary's dripping coat with a noticably French accent. "Although in zhe testing phase, eet did not go quite as planned... Eet turned out zhe fire did not come so much with their breath as, how you say, with their..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Not now, Brap" Functionary hissed nervously. "A-heh. Um... you wanted to see me? Sir?"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Hardly" The Moderator noted icily. "What are these citizens doing cluttering up the lobby?"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Oh, right... Um... I know this one..." Functionary assured. "This is Mr. Mac Fleetwood. He and these others are residents of Hell's Bathroom, specifically the neighborhood that was, um... kind of trashed... in last week's fight between the Lair Legion and the Yurt."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Don't you mean "demolished as part of a long-planned Urban Renewal Project"..." the leader of the Lair Legion suggested dangerously. "Or can't you even be bothered to watch the broadcasts you oversee?"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "We don't need your propaganda to tell us what happens in our own neighborhood!" Mr. Fleetwood pointed out.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Er... well..." Functionary explained. "They do kind of have a point, though... don't they? I mean, the Yurt is pretty hard to miss, and not the kind of thing you forget. And the Legion *did* kind of defeat him by dropping much of Hell's Bathroom on his head, one structure at a time..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Fight buildings with buildings, I always say!" Scarlet Lawnmower snickered from his place leaning against the doors of the glass elevator that led to the Lair Levels of the Tower. "Anyway, we saved their lives... What do they want us to do about it now?"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Pay for damages!" a voice in the crowd yelled. "Help us rebuild!" another chimed in.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "These people were left homeless..." Mac argued. "The city's shelters are already overfilled. There's no place for many to go..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "I can tell 'em where to go" Lawnmower suggested.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Well, now... hold on..." Functionary said.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "We have videotape of what really happened!" Mr. Fleetwood argued. "And we'll take it to the real press if you won't help us. You have responsibilities!"
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "Indeed" The Moderator said. "And Great Power. Which means you no longer have any videotape." He waved his hands and suddenly the angry crowd vanished completely from the lobby. "Thank you for making sure this matter came to my attention, Functionary. There are only two types of people who get jobs like yours, you know... the ambitious and the incompetent. I knew I chose just the right type."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "You... you did just send them home, right?" Functionary asked. "I mean... naturally without the video tape. And, um... without homes... but you did just send them somewhere..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "You should be proud... it's an important job, making sure the Legion isn't distracted by the little things" The Moderator assured him as he, Scarlet Lawnmower and the other true Legionnaires entered the elevator. "It's how the rest of the team is able to do great things" he added before the doors closed and the group ascended.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > Functionary exchanged worried glances with DoorMan.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > "You know, eet wasn't so much zhat zhe grizzlies themselves were bad" Brap explained absently. "I just wish zhe doctor had invested in zhe flame-retardant pooper-scooper zhat I requested..."
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > And The Moderator was pleased, for all was as it should be....save for one small apartment in the suburbs of Upper Wuthering Heights, GMY, where a small boy turned off his computer and said “Cor blimey, something odd is ‘appening!â€Â
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > > He is Salieri Meng, seventh smartest boy genius in the Parodyverse, and he knows what the Lair Legion has done with his hero. Now Meng must come up with a plan to rescue him: to save the Manga Shoggoth.
> > > > >
> > > > > "This would be easier if I could find the 6 'smarter' boy geniuses of the world," he was forced to admit to himself. He looked at the cover of "Timely" magazine that proclaimed his genius ranking and shook his fist. "I was robbed," he muttered as he resumed planning.
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > > "I know what I have to do," Meng says to himself. He throws a warn duffle-bag onto his bed, and hunts around his room for various items which he places in the bag – a torch, a small pick, a length of rope, a small compact keyboard with a usb port that he refers to as his “datajackâ€Â, a whistle, and a jar of sticky black liquid.
> > > > >
> > > > > “Right, all set.†He looks like an urban commando, black cargo-pants billowing out but tied in close at the feet like a Japanese carpenter would wear, a bulky black jacket that is somewhat reminiscent of a straight-jacket with its belts and ties and seems to also have numerous pockets.
> > > > >
> > > > > His hair is jet black, and flops over half his face, almost Emo, except he has not bothered to style it, he is beyond Emo.
> > > > >
> > > > > “Now, the first challenge,†he gulps as he grabs the duffle-bag and cautiously opens the bedroom door.
> > > > >
> > > > > “Salieri,†comes the whimsical sing-song voice of a woman somewhere else in the home. “Dinner is ready!â€Â
> > > > >
> > > > > “I just have to sneak past Mum,†he says to himself.
> > > > >
> > > >
> > > > Begging out of dinner by claiming he was heading to the Zero Street Mission for a Naruto Fan Club Meeting, Salieri Meng left the house and boarded the GMY Trolley.
> > > >
> > > > Once aboard, he used his Blackberry to replay the SPUD security camera footage he had managed to pirate. It showed the New Lair Legion binding the Manga Shoggoth in (to quote the Search Engineer) "ever mutable theoretical geometric rune based algorithm," then forcing the Eldrtich Horror into a "extra-terrestrial transport pod" then sending him to the "Outermost Rim of Narrative Space."
> > > >
> > > > "You're just too dangerous to have around, you suppurative carbuncle!" were the Moderator's last words to the Shoggoth before hitting the launch button that would send Salieri's hero to the edge of the known Parodyverse.
> > > >
> > > > "Having this video is not enough!" Meng exposited while flipping his hair, "No media outlet will run it. I need to bring the Shoggoth back."
> > > >
> > > > To that end he began making a list of what he would require to do so:
> > > >
> > > > A method of hyper-dimensional transport
> > > > A method of translating the runes that formed the equations that bound the Shoggoth
> > > > A method of mathematically solving the equation that bound the Shoggoth.
> > > >
> > > > In his mind, there was only one place to go for such aid.
> > >
> > > Luckily, that place was the very next stop.
> > >
> > > "Sixways, Sixways," monotoned the robotic voice system of the trolley.
> > >
> > > Salieri jumped from his seat, and exited hastily. A light drizzle was falling in the early evening light as he stepped down onto the pavement.
> > >
> > > He made his way across a pedestrian crossing to a two storey red-brick building with an oversized garage door. The old Sixways Firehouse.
> > >
> > > “The secret home of the EEE!†the young genius breathed to himself in awe. He gingerly approached the main door.
> > >
> > > "The seventh smartest pre-adolescent on the planet should not be reduced to locating then seeking aid from some kind of back-street laundry," complained Salieri as he stepped over piles of wet linen in a musty old doorway.
>
>
> "Well, someone had to do the washing around here, it was getting out of hand," said a female voice. Salieri looked up and saw that the speaker was a twenty-something brunette wearing a grease-stained pair of old overalls.
>
> “Who are you?†the boy genius asked the woman, blushing somewhat as his mind decided she was wearing nothing at all under the overalls.
>
> “The question is who are you kid?†came the gruff voice of a man behind him. Salieri jumped and turned to face a stocky built man with blond top knot. He was wearing…well…a black domino face mask and a pair of Tweety Bird boxer shorts. Luckily, Salieri was too young to wonder if he was interrupting anything.
>
> “I’m Salieri Meng, and I’m here to see Professor Harper. Only he can design the hyper-dimensional transport needed to restore my hero, the Manga Shoggoth, and thus the world, to its rightful state.
>
> The woman’s face darkens, “Oh…I’m sorry Salieri. Al…Professor Harper that is…he’s missing,†she chokes.
>
> “He didn’t return from the geek convention he attended last Thursday,†the man added, “Ever since the Moderator banned all scientific experimentation, we knew Harper would be in danger.â€Â
>
> “We now fear that the SPAM Control have got him,†the woman whispers.
>
> Salieri shudders at the name, the infamous SPAM Control. The Moderator’s right hand men and women who enforce his laws with a fanatical dominance. This was the world they all lived in now. And only Salieri seemed to know that it was not right.
>
> The woman notices the boy shudder and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It will be alright,†she says, though it seems as though she is saying it to herself as much as to Salieri. “I’m Amy by the way, let me get this load of washing on and then you can tell me all about the Manga Shoggoth?†she smiles at Salieri. “And KS…I will get to wash those shorts too!†she adds, turning to face the top-knotted man, but he had stealthy evaded her yet again and was no longer there.
>
>
> *continued*
>
>
> |
>
|
|
Al B. Harper - is plotting another addition
|
Subject: Heh heh, all three chapters are great stuff! [Re: Hatman]
Posted Fri Jan 18, 2008 at 08:04:56 pm EST |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 7 on Windows XP
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > The Mouse awoke with a snort, bolting upright in her chair in front of the computer console. With a groan she wiped a bit of drool from her cheek with the back of her hand, then checked her watch. "Oh, damn!" she swore softly, blinking at the time. Her contact lenses had dried, making her eyeballs feel tight and constricted, plus she had an awful taste in her mouth from the vending machine snack cake she had eaten earlier. This, combined with the omnipresent headache she had these days, left her feeling more lousy than she had when she had dozed off to start with.
> > >
> > > She rolled across the lab to key up the results of the latest analysis, which had hopefully finished compiling by now. The data scrolled across the screen at a rapid clip, but the young scientist had no trouble keeping up. Unfortunately, the news wasn't good.
> > >
> > > "No identifiable vibration" she sighed to herself. "How can this version of the Parodyverse not have a recognizable quantum vibration?" The more accurate question in layman's terms, she had to admit, was "Where the hell are we?" Damn that Hooded Hood. Just when she had thought she had their jumps all mapped out...
> > >
> > > She longed for the good old days when her theoretical sciences were still theoretical. Before The Moderator had come to her, with his quantum editing powers, and inquired about her theories on traversing between universes. Before he had found the Link, who had the spacial component necessary to her theory. Before he had found...
> > >
> > > She flushed and tore her thoughts away. Some secrets weren't safe to even think about... especially secrets of The Moderator. She had theories on what happened to the things he edited out of existence, but no desire to put them to the test personally.
> > >
> > > "Heya Mousy" the voice of the Scarlet Lawnmower called out from behind her. "Got a special delivery for you."
> > >
> > > Inwardly she groaned. She longed for the days before that damn nickname... although she had to admit that it likely wouldn't have stuck if it didn't fit her so well. "You can just leave it on the counter please, Mr. Reed" she called back softly.
> > >
> > > "I could, but it could go bad... and that'd be a shame with this particular piece of meat."
> > >
> > > "I... Meat?" Hesitantly, she turned and exited the testing station into the larger lab. A medical bed had been wheeled into the room, complete with monitors and I.V. bags.
> > >
> > > The cocky Scarlet Legionnaire was holding up the patient's bedsheets and whistling in admiration. "Doc says she... er... "it" will be waking up soon. Get her... or whatever... cleaned up and dressed. The boss will be down sometime later to question it."
> > >
> > > "What? Wait... who... Dressed? Dressed in what?"
> > >
> > > "I dunno toots... Whatever you got that will fit 'er. Preferably something that won't make her look like a drab, flat-chested nerdlinger like yourself, as that would be an absolute crime." He turned and headed for the door.
> > >
> > > "Wait... who is she?" the Mouse called out after him.
> > >
> > > "Your replacement, I'd say" he snickered. "The boss is looking for a brain trust that'll get results... not whine incessantly about "the consequences". This one's looks are just a bonus." He gave her a wink just before the elevator doors closed.
> > >
> > > The Mouse swallowed hard and approached the patient on the bed, feeling sick to her stomach. This time she was sure it was not caused by the progressive quantum fallout that she "whined incessantly" about (symptoms could include nausea, migraines, erectile dysfunction, restless leg syndrome and, of course, progressive dementia... followed by cellular decay and total body liquification in extreme cases, though the men on the team worried more about the erectile bit.) She had an antidote that looked promising... if only...
> > >
> > > The patient groaned and shifted. No, not patient... She could see the restraints on the bed. Prisoner. And chart was filled out in Dr. Bellum's illegible handwriting. She didn't want to think about how likely it was that whatever procedure this person underwent was voluntary. Oh, how she longed for the days when science seemed like a bright and hopeful field... back in college when it was just her and...
> > >
> > > "Muffy!" she gasped in shock as the patient stirred, turning her head to look at her. "Oh god... Muffy?! What... what have they done to you?"
> > >
> > > The figure in the bed tried to focus on her, although she had trouble getting her eyes to go in the same direction. "W...who?" she gasped with a dry throat. "H... H..."
> > >
> > > "Helen" the Mouse answered, grasping the bound figure's own hand in her left, and stroking the bandaged forehead with her right. "It's Helen McAllistair... your old roommate. Shhhhhh... Hold on, I'll help you." She swallowed again, this time with resolve. "I'll help you" she repeated.
>
> * * * * *
>
> Salieri Ming's fingers danced across the keyboard of the dusty PC in the corner. While this version of the Internet was different from the one he was used to, he nevertheless bent all of his considerable brainpower to the task at hand. Amy noted the determined look on his face and the bead of sweat trickling down his brow.
>
> "I did it!" he suddenly exclaimed, punching the Enter key with a grand flourish to emphasize his accomplishment.
>
> "You found the Shoggoth?" Amy asked him. Salieri had explained what the Shoggoth was and she didn't really see why the boy genius needed to find him; he sounded like murder on the carpet.
>
> "Er, no, not just yet," he admitted. He turned back to the screen and quickly navigated away from the hacked "Timely Magazine" server.
>
> The Parodyverse's smartest boy genius once again concentrated on the computer, looking for any stray mention of the Shoggoth in cyberspace. Finally, he found something.
>
> "I think I've found him," he said neutrally.
>
> "Isn't that a good thing?" asked a puzzled Amy.
>
> "Well, he's got bodyguards," explained Salieri.
>
> Killer Shrike approached them in his newly-clean uniform. He plucked a stray dryer sheet from his shoulder and let it fall to the ground; he hated static cling. "No problem, that's where I come in."
>
> "Well, the first bodyguard is a woman named Whitney Darkness. She's one of the most powerful witches on the planet. In my reality, she's simply called the Sorceress." Salieri punched a few more keys. "The good news is I'm pretty sure it's taking a lot of her concentration to lock something like the Shoggoth up."
>
> "No problem, we take her from behind," responded Killer Shrike.
>
> "Eww," commented Amy.
>
> "The problem is, she has a bodyguard of her own. I know him in my reality as Mr. Epitome." Salieri sat back to allow his companions to see the picture on the screen.
>
> Amy and Killer Shrike looked at the image on the screen and all hope drained from their faces. "You know him as the Dominator."
>
> "Well, good luck with that," said Killer Shrike as he quickly left the room.
>
> To be continued... |
|
|
HH
|
Subject: Some very creative stuff here. [Re: Hatman]
Posted Sun Jan 20, 2008 at 12:13:18 pm EST |
|
|
Posted with Microsoft Internet Explorer 6 on Windows 2000
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > The Mouse awoke with a snort, bolting upright in her chair in front of the computer console. With a groan she wiped a bit of drool from her cheek with the back of her hand, then checked her watch. "Oh, damn!" she swore softly, blinking at the time. Her contact lenses had dried, making her eyeballs feel tight and constricted, plus she had an awful taste in her mouth from the vending machine snack cake she had eaten earlier. This, combined with the omnipresent headache she had these days, left her feeling more lousy than she had when she had dozed off to start with.
> > >
> > > She rolled across the lab to key up the results of the latest analysis, which had hopefully finished compiling by now. The data scrolled across the screen at a rapid clip, but the young scientist had no trouble keeping up. Unfortunately, the news wasn't good.
> > >
> > > "No identifiable vibration" she sighed to herself. "How can this version of the Parodyverse not have a recognizable quantum vibration?" The more accurate question in layman's terms, she had to admit, was "Where the hell are we?" Damn that Hooded Hood. Just when she had thought she had their jumps all mapped out...
> > >
> > > She longed for the good old days when her theoretical sciences were still theoretical. Before The Moderator had come to her, with his quantum editing powers, and inquired about her theories on traversing between universes. Before he had found the Link, who had the spacial component necessary to her theory. Before he had found...
> > >
> > > She flushed and tore her thoughts away. Some secrets weren't safe to even think about... especially secrets of The Moderator. She had theories on what happened to the things he edited out of existence, but no desire to put them to the test personally.
> > >
> > > "Heya Mousy" the voice of the Scarlet Lawnmower called out from behind her. "Got a special delivery for you."
> > >
> > > Inwardly she groaned. She longed for the days before that damn nickname... although she had to admit that it likely wouldn't have stuck if it didn't fit her so well. "You can just leave it on the counter please, Mr. Reed" she called back softly.
> > >
> > > "I could, but it could go bad... and that'd be a shame with this particular piece of meat."
> > >
> > > "I... Meat?" Hesitantly, she turned and exited the testing station into the larger lab. A medical bed had been wheeled into the room, complete with monitors and I.V. bags.
> > >
> > > The cocky Scarlet Legionnaire was holding up the patient's bedsheets and whistling in admiration. "Doc says she... er... "it" will be waking up soon. Get her... or whatever... cleaned up and dressed. The boss will be down sometime later to question it."
> > >
> > > "What? Wait... who... Dressed? Dressed in what?"
> > >
> > > "I dunno toots... Whatever you got that will fit 'er. Preferably something that won't make her look like a drab, flat-chested nerdlinger like yourself, as that would be an absolute crime." He turned and headed for the door.
> > >
> > > "Wait... who is she?" the Mouse called out after him.
> > >
> > > "Your replacement, I'd say" he snickered. "The boss is looking for a brain trust that'll get results... not whine incessantly about "the consequences". This one's looks are just a bonus." He gave her a wink just before the elevator doors closed.
> > >
> > > The Mouse swallowed hard and approached the patient on the bed, feeling sick to her stomach. This time she was sure it was not caused by the progressive quantum fallout that she "whined incessantly" about (symptoms could include nausea, migraines, erectile dysfunction, restless leg syndrome and, of course, progressive dementia... followed by cellular decay and total body liquification in extreme cases, though the men on the team worried more about the erectile bit.) She had an antidote that looked promising... if only...
> > >
> > > The patient groaned and shifted. No, not patient... She could see the restraints on the bed. Prisoner. And chart was filled out in Dr. Bellum's illegible handwriting. She didn't want to think about how likely it was that whatever procedure this person underwent was voluntary. Oh, how she longed for the days when science seemed like a bright and hopeful field... back in college when it was just her and...
> > >
> > > "Muffy!" she gasped in shock as the patient stirred, turning her head to look at her. "Oh god... Muffy?! What... what have they done to you?"
> > >
> > > The figure in the bed tried to focus on her, although she had trouble getting her eyes to go in the same direction. "W...who?" she gasped with a dry throat. "H... H..."
> > >
> > > "Helen" the Mouse answered, grasping the bound figure's own hand in her left, and stroking the bandaged forehead with her right. "It's Helen McAllistair... your old roommate. Shhhhhh... Hold on, I'll help you." She swallowed again, this time with resolve. "I'll help you" she repeated.
>
> * * * * *
>
> Salieri Ming's fingers danced across the keyboard of the dusty PC in the corner. While this version of the Internet was different from the one he was used to, he nevertheless bent all of his considerable brainpower to the task at hand. Amy noted the determined look on his face and the bead of sweat trickling down his brow.
>
> "I did it!" he suddenly exclaimed, punching the Enter key with a grand flourish to emphasize his accomplishment.
>
> "You found the Shoggoth?" Amy asked him. Salieri had explained what the Shoggoth was and she didn't really see why the boy genius needed to find him; he sounded like murder on the carpet.
>
> "Er, no, not just yet," he admitted. He turned back to the screen and quickly navigated away from the hacked "Timely Magazine" server.
>
> The Parodyverse's smartest boy genius once again concentrated on the computer, looking for any stray mention of the Shoggoth in cyberspace. Finally, he found something.
>
> "I think I've found him," he said neutrally.
>
> "Isn't that a good thing?" asked a puzzled Amy.
>
> "Well, he's got bodyguards," explained Salieri.
>
> Killer Shrike approached them in his newly-clean uniform. He plucked a stray dryer sheet from his shoulder and let it fall to the ground; he hated static cling. "No problem, that's where I come in."
>
> "Well, the first bodyguard is a woman named Whitney Darkness. She's one of the most powerful witches on the planet. In my reality, she's simply called the Sorceress." Salieri punched a few more keys. "The good news is I'm pretty sure it's taking a lot of her concentration to lock something like the Shoggoth up."
>
> "No problem, we take her from behind," responded Killer Shrike.
>
> "Eww," commented Amy.
>
> "The problem is, she has a bodyguard of her own. I know him in my reality as Mr. Epitome." Salieri sat back to allow his companions to see the picture on the screen.
>
> Amy and Killer Shrike looked at the image on the screen and all hope drained from their faces. "You know him as the Dominator."
>
> "Well, good luck with that," said Killer Shrike as he quickly left the room.
>
> To be continued... |
|
| | |