“oh
god, not him again…”
or
”Shit, now I have to think of another title!”
Yup indeedy, I just couldn’t keep myself from writing. “Insipid” is done and dusted, except for the Valetines thingy, which should be done for about November (?) so I figured why not do an “Adventures of Captain Greyhound” series?
Answer: Kate decided to do it first. Well, publicly at least. Ask Caz! I told her I was gonna do a CG+BG series! She knows! *whimpers*
Or not. It’s a totally separate entity, this thing, otherwise the fic series might become dependant on the cartoon, or vice versa. There will be in-jokes, so fret not! And Kate’ll still show her brand of surreal humour, whereas I will still rely on either cleverly done set pieces, or hideously vile slash to keep you entertained! *grins*
Oh well, onto the back story… I hope you enjoy this, it’s gonna be a lot bigger than insipid… *plots*. Or maybe not. Maybe my OTHER ideas may get an airing… *pantomime moustache twirling*
AUDIENCE: You don’t *have* any other ideas, and that’s a fact.
[Uh. You may well remember the end of Insipid2, where CG and BG jetted off to earth, after their encounter with... uh… something. Where do they go from here? Their own comic series? Yes! Their own franchise? Hell no, they became a comedy crime fighting duo! Where would they go with such amazing powers at their disposal? Tokyo? New Ross? Reno? LA?]
CAPTAIN GREYHOUND: *entering room, slinging coat on floor* Manchester… sometimes you just want to CRY and CRY and CRY…
[Pshaw, yeah, like YOU’VE got loads to cry about, haven’tcha?]
CG: Whaddaya mean? Oh, right…
[Bagpuss Girl enters the office.]
BAGPUSS GIRL: Hey, uh, before we start this fic…
[Yeah?]
BG: Never ever talk to either of us ever again.
CG: Hey, out of interest, what the hell are we doing here? We need background info!
[Well, I’ve just finished my third can of Lilt, so why not.]
BG: Out with it, then.
[You finished off the insipid saga, as the Author wisely decided not to put you in the Valentines special in case… well, you saw the J&J thingy, didn’t you?]
CG: Dude, he wouldn’t do that…
BG: Would he? *backs away closer to CG in fear*
[No! That’s why Privates Wieteska and Adams are also removed. You decided to go back to earth, as it’s better there and the alternative was the SoL.]
CG: *sitting in large swivel chair* Heh, so we decided to start a crime-fighting business, right?
[Uh, no, this is your flat until you get up and running, and that was the guy next door sitting in the chair who helped you bring in some of your stuff.]
CG: Oh, uh, sorry.
ALEX: No probl- no, wait… yeah, better watch where you go.
BG: Hey, I know you! You died repeatedly in Insipid, didn’t you?
ALEX: No.
BG: But you di-
ALEX: Be quiet.
CG: Hey, she’s right, you DID di-
ALEX: That wasn’t me.
BG: It bloody well was! Look, you’ve got the bizarre hair, too! And the small unison penguin!
[She makes a grab for the penguin. Luckily, the owner manages to keep it out of the flailing hands of the mad superheroine, and saves the bird from having its throat cut and salt poured in there.]
ALEX: *holding penguin above head where BG has no chance of getting it, boredly* Desist, please…
CG: See? He talks like him too!
ALEX: Yeah, whatever. Look, do you want help moving in or not? If not, I’ll take my penguin and go.
BG: Or go and take your penguin…
[Both her and CG giggle.]
ALEX: Ah hah. Hah hah hah. Hah. Hey, are the roles are reversed here? You know, as you’re the people moving in?
CG: Oh, uh, yeah, sorry.
[The trio shift boxes around for a while, making idle chitchat about stuff, in which it transpires that BG has a website. Universes within universes… heh.]
BG: Look, just quit with the oh-so-funny square brackets and get on with some bloody story!
[Sorry. Look, I just finished InsipidRocketsAreBad, and that was mainly descriptive text! I’m drained, ok?]
CG: Which brings us back to the penguin.
[Shut up.]
ALEX: Well, that’s the lot. Isn’t it funny how we managed to put in all the furniture in about five minutes?
CG: No, not at all. Ignore the plot holes and they ignore you, that’s my motto.
BG: That’s a weird motto, isn’t it?
ALEX: So, what do you two do?
CG: *staring lovingly at BG* Want us to show you?
BG: *likewise* Well?
ALEX: No! NO! Stop! I mean jobwise!
CG: *staring at BG* Like I just said, want us to sho-
ALEX: I’ll just let this one pass, shall I? You’re porn
actors… fine.
BG: Nah, relax, contrary to any fics or comics you may have read, we’re not
crazed nymphos. We’re superheroes!
ALEX: Superheroes?
[Thunder! Lights! Confetti! Music! Lilt! White jackets! *gibber*]
CG: *striking pose* I am CAPTAIN GREYHOUND, lord of all greyhounds!
POSE: Ow! Bastard! What was that for?
BG: *also striking pose* And I’m BAGPUSS GIRL, the.. what the hell? “Spunky sidekick of CG”?
ALEX: You ARE porn stars! Jesus, I thought you were kiddin- *smack*
BG: *lowering trout* Shut up. “Spunky” as in “perky and sassy and feisty”.
ALEX: Nope, you’re still porn actors.
CG: *smack*
ALEX: Ow!
BG: AS I WAS SAYING. I wield the power of Bagpuss! In that, uh, I’m really agile, and can do flips and stuff.
ALEX: So, you’re not porn actors becau- *slam*
CG: Fridge doors: helpful in many respects.
ALEX: Ow. How does the power of Bagpuss infuse you with the
ability to flip and so on?
BG: …
ALEX: Well?
BG: *cries* I don’t know-ow-ow… *sniffle*
ALEX: Ah, uh, sorry.
CG: Aw, c’mon, don’t cry… *comforts*
BG: *sniff*
ALEX: *watching* Uh, Jesus. Tell you what, I’ll be back in… ooh, about half an hour?
CG: *indistinct* Two hours.
ALEX: Shit.
[With their long-brewed pot of tea* complete, CG gingerly opens the door to call Alex back in. He’s kicking a stone around in the hall, listening to an MP3 player.]
*shyeah right…
CG: Oh, hey. Hang on.. there isn’t anything playing on that player!
ALEX: I just turned it off.
CG: And… that’s a glass down the stairs, isn’t it? In
pieces?
ALEX: No.
CG: And a circular indentation in the paint of the door?
ALEX: Many things make circular indentations.
CG: Right.
ALEX: Yeah.
CG: You bet.
ALEX: Indeed.
BG: *from inside* Oh, you found him? I heard voices outside. These doors are like paper, you can hear anything from outside…
ALEX: …
[The superheroes are relaxing at home. Alex is lounging on the sofa, Playstation controller in hand, wondering just when the hell Legend Of Mana was released and WHY WAS HE NOT TOLD ABOUT IT? Captain Greyhound is flicking through the CDs and trying to set up a stereo whilst simultaneously cooking pasta, and Bagpuss Girl is arranging stuff. I don’t know, make something up, you lazy bastard.]
BG: But you’re the author.
[I know, but I’m lazy and the chocolate Santa I just tried to make fucked up badly and left me with a large lump of cocoa powder.]
CG: *muttering* Cretin..
BG: *giggle*
[Yeah, whatever. YOU try making one, then… *muttermuttermutter*]
BG: It’s meant for people from ages 7-12!
[*cries*]
CG: Well, the pasta should be a while now, and the stereo is all wired up… whaddaya wanna do now?
ALEX: You what? The pasta should be a while? What the hell kind of pasta is this, plastic?
BG: *to CG* He just got slaughtered again, so relax, it ain’t personal…
ALEX: Gah, never like PSX’s anyway*. Wanna meet the neighbours?
*this is shortly to be changed as Leader is lending me
one :D.
BG: Sure, may as well.
ALEX: Good, cos after you’ve met them you’re starting your fic properly.
BG/CG: eep.
[The trio are standing outside the door of number 68. A few knocks on the door elicts no response, so Captain Greyhound removes the hinges with a tightly focused beam of energy. This causes great consternation in Alex, but BG has seen it all before. Such as when they broke into the off-licence… *heh heh...*]
BAGPUSS GIRL: Hey! I’d… left my coat in there!
CAPTAIN GREYHOUND: And the owner was away.
[Dude, it was four o clock in the afternoon.]
CG: Uh, so?
[Forget it, then.]
ALEX: Yeah, uh, can we go back to the emitting-laser-beams we just saw?
CG: Oh, that’s an arc-welder.
ALEX: Right.
BG: *whispering* Did he twig?
CG: No, he’s barely conscious as it is. Watch! *smack*
ALEX: Huh?
CG: See?
[A strawberry blonde girl in full riot police gear steps through the remains of the door. She seems flustered. From inside the house, soft grunts are heard.]
BG: Hey! The first time you typed that you said “the door creaked open”!
[Shut up.]
ALEX: Oh, uh, hi. This is Caz.
CG/BG: Hi Caz!
ALEX: *to Caz* Is Matt around?
CAZ: Uh, yeah…
[Soft grunts are heard?]
CAZ: *changing subject* Who’re they?
CG: *striking pose* I am Captain Greyhound, master of all greyhounds!
POSE: *cowering* Ow! Shit! Stop it, seriously!
BG: *likewise striking pose* And I am the… Jesus, do I really have to say this? Ok, ok… I am the Spunky Sidekick laughandyoudie of Captain Greyhound, Bagpuss Firl!
ALEX: Firl? You’re a loaf of bread shaped like Bagpuss?
BG: Shut up, it’s your fucked up fingers that made the typo in the first place. Bagpuss Girl!
CG: *hugging BG with one arm* We’re superheroes!
CAZ: Uh huh? *eyes move from BG to CG slowly, and back again*
ALEX: Yeah, uh, they’ve just moved in. Why the hell are you wearing riot gear?
CAZ: *nods towards bedroom where the soft grunts are coming from*
ALEX: Oh dear. We’ll come back later, shall we?
[Um.]
CAZ: Hey! Hey! It’s not like that! Meanhead.
ALEX: Uh, yeah, ok. We, uh, have other things to do right now, so, uh, we’ll see you later…
CAZ: No, seriously! Right… check this out, if you don’t believe me.
[She marches up to the bedroom door and flings it open.]
ALEX: Argh! What the hell are you tryin- what the hell IS that?
BG: Hmm. *absorbed*
CG: Huh? *alarmed* Hey!
[Lying on the bedroom floor is a quite enormous rabbit eating carrots. Lots of them. It is making small contented grunts, as they do. I asked an expert, ok? *grins* Matt pops his head round the cupboard door in which he is hiding, and the rabbit turns round and… uh, snarls.]
CAZ: *sadly* This is Dudley… he sort of grew exponentially.
ALEX: I don’t even know what that MEANS and I still type it.
CAZ: Yeah. Someone came and poured something over him when me and Matt were, uh, out. And he took up residence here.
CG: Uh, right… how big was he before?
CAZ: *oblivious* We found a bottle on the floor… “Warning! Growth Serum x20!”
CG: Oh dear.
CAZ: *twigging* Huh? Oh, sorry. Dudley was about a foot long before.
BG: Gosh, isn’t it lucky that he didn’t take the full blast of the serum and is only about 8 feet long? Otherwise, the author would have to have a different scenario! If he didn’t, he’d have to either fit a twenty foot rabbit into a bedroom, or make the growth effect of the serum smaller, hence making it appear less cool! Golly!
[Oh, shush.]
CAZ: Anyhow. We came in, slightly, uh, busy, and didn’t notice our “brand new sofa”. Well, when he turned round and snarled at us, then we did. I managed to get out of the door, and Matt… well, he hid in the cupboard.
CG: As you would when faced with such a lapine foe.
ALEX: Stop trying to look clever.
[Sorry.]
MATT: *indistinct* Heya, all.
CAZ: Shush, hun. Anyway, he’s been in there for about a day now. I’ve had to fling him stuff from the door.
MATT: *muffled due to cupboardness* Like a PC! Wayhey!
BG: So… you’d say that this would be a job for… well, someone specially trained to deal with perilous situations?
CAZ: Well, yeah…
CG: People trained to do SUPERHUMAN things, perchance?
CAZ: I suppose so.
CG: Well never fear, as WE are he-
ALEX: Uh, hey, the rabbit’s fallen asleep.
CG: As WE ARE HERE, I said, to remove the threat of this sleeping bunny!
[Alex collapses into convulsive giggles.]
ALEX: Wow, you’re the real deal, aren’t you? What next? Removing, *gasp*, overgrown pigeons from roofs? Blimey! Can I have your autograph? Can you sign my head?
CG: Die.
CAZ: Well, if you could get him out of here, then I suspect I could give you something for your troubles…
BG: Huh? Hang on… I’ve heard this kind of cheesy quest idea before… hey, Mike, over here a second…
CG: *linking* I thought you’d never ask!
[Another running joke surfaces.]
BG: *aside* Right… you know, as a superhero, do you get much in the way of reward? I’ve only been in the business for, what, ten months? Eleven?
CG: Well, we get a salary from the government, but that’s about it. Generally, when we arrive, the people in danger run away.
ALEX: *eavesdropping* Can’t think why. Look, I reckon you might be in some sort of linear RPG…
BG: Yeah. Look at this, a sidequest that looks totally separate except for one key element: the serum.
ALEX: And Caz and Matt.
BG: Yeah, them too. Whaddaya reckon we should do?
CG: Fuck it, there ain’t owt we CAN do if this is another linear-RPG style fic.
BG: Whaddaya reckon we’ll get, then?
ALEX: Hey, Caz, whaddo they get?
CAZ: Have you dealt with the rabbit yet?
ALEX: Uh, no, not yet.
CAZ: Please! I beg of you! Move him out!
ALEX: Uh, ok.
[He returns to CG and BG.]
ALEX: Great. *nodding to BG* You try, then.
BG: Uh, hey, Caz, what would we have to do to get rid of that rabbit?
CAZ: Have you dealt with the rabbit yet?
BG: Huh? No, I, uh, just asked you HOW to deal with it.
CAZ: Please! I beg of you! Move him out!
BG: Damn… clever scripting that answers many questions at once. Shit.
CG: Hang on… lemme try…
[He goes up to Caz.]
CG: Hi! Nice weather, isn’t it?
CAZ: Have you dealt with the rabbit yet?
CG: Arrgh, greyhounds, she’s asking a question… that makes it a proper
conversation, and her second line links with it. Looks like we’re stuck here
for a while… unless… aha!
[He looks proud of himself.]
CG: Yup, we did, we moved him outside, just as you asked.
CAZ: Really? Oh, that’s great! Thank you!
CG: Yeah, yeah, ok. Our reward?
[Caz looks blank for a second, then shakes herself.]
CAZ: Arrgh, buggger, what just happened? And why is Dudley still here?
CG: Damn!
[Heh heh…]
[With a cry of “right, sod this”, CG lifts the overgrown lapine over his head, and gently urges it out of the door. The rabbit squeals in annoyance, but can’t actually do owt, as it’s having its ears kindly but firmly restrained by BG.]
ALEX: Hey, uh, is it just me or has the last few pages been mostly filler?
BG: Yeah, he’s floundering…
CG: Alley oop, then…
[The overgrown creature… gah, I wish I had a thesaurus… lollops off into the garden. Unfortunately, Pose the landlord is out there, skulking around.]
CAZ: Oh, cheers, you’ve got him out.
[Outside we hear screams and snarling.]
MATT: Yesss! I am freeeeeeee!
[Aaaannnnnnnddd CUE stock footage of Caz and Matt running towards each other in a field full of bloody CLOVER. Yes, CLOVER! It’s a STEREOTYPED image! Enough CAPS, as they give me a HEADACHE. Mwa ha! I just figured out how to write DRAMATICALLY! Simply put all NOUNS and ADJECTIVES in CAPITALS!]
BG: Umm… you do this a lot, then?
ALEX: Uh, yeah, all the time… internally, generally.
CG: I should hope so.
[And then put on a HAT that is BROWN! Hah! Ha- oh. Sorry. End clover scene! Aargh! No! You’re not supposed to keep the cameras on THAT long!]
BG: And that?
ALEX: Oh, uh, sorry. Shipping, badly.
CG: Dude, what’s *wrong* with you?
CAZ: Well, thanks for the help with the rabbit. Here, take this.
CG: Hey, it’s the almost-certainly-important-to-the-plot item, which seems really minor until its ulterior power is discovered!
BG: Groovy.
CAZ: S’a passcard.
BG: Oh.
CAZ: No, seriously. I, uh, found it.
CG: And what does it permit you entry to?
CAZ: Dunno. Have a look.
[The words “abandoned”, “military”, and “base” are written on the side in orange felt tip.]
ALEX: Oh, this must be for that massive military base in the mountains that everyone couldn’t find or couldn’t get it. Luckily, Caz, in a storm, took shelter in a nearby cave system when she was up in the mountains, and stumbled upon a large door.
BG: Dude, how do you manage to mix the plotlines of Fallout2 and Warzone 2100 into one which is lesser than the sum of its parts?
ALEX: A talent.
CAZ: *suspiciously* Hey, how do you know all that?
ALEX: I don’t know! That’s the thing!
MATT: Riight. Hey, you didn’t, I dunno, forget about me or anything? I mean, I’ve been freed, but I hadn’t had many lines up until here…
[Um.]
MATT: Cretin. *line originally intended for Caz* Anyone else for CG and BG to meet in this place, then?
ALEX: Two things. One: YOU LIVE HERE TOO. Two: when the hell were you introduced?
[WARNING: PLOT RIFT IMMINENT. CHARACTER CONCIOUSNESS LEVEL DANGEROUSLY HIGH.]
CG: Just then, and he’s never gotten to know the neighbours because in thse high-rise building, people are distanced from one another. *beams*
ALEX: Oh that’s right, stick up for him. Where the hell are we, anyway? Miles Platting?
ALL: ….
ALEX: So two people who read this will get that. So sue me.
ALL: ….
ALEX: Ok, ok, use of the “s” word there was not really needed. Sorry.
BG: *slap*
ALEX: Ow! What was that for?
BG: Breaking up the fic. Sooner this fic is over, sooner me and CG get to go home and… damn, got ahead of myself… make dinner?
ALEX: Oh, right. Fair enough.
BG: *phew*
MATT: Anyway, shall we introduce ‘em to Pose?
CAZ: Hmm, do you think that’s a good idea?
MATT: Sorry?
CAZ: I mean, they may be superheroes, but there are some things you just don’t force on a person like that…
POSE: Superheroes? Really? Wow! Hey, what comic series do you belong to? I’ve got them all, you know!
CG: Uh huh?
POSE: I even pledged to have my name changed to the most used word in a novelised comic!
BG: And you got “pose”?
POSE: Yup!
CAZ: *whispers* He’s a superhero nut…
[Mwa ha! A pun in English! You were probably thinking that the “that” in the previous sentence about “a person like that” referred to the superheroes: “…on a person like those superheroes”. So my highly trained-]
BG: Pfft. Yeah.
[HIGHLY TRAINED authors mind can exploit this and make the “that” refer to the person: “…on a person like that person”! Mwa ha!]
CG: Please stop. I beg of you. My brain has crawled out of my nostrils and is trying to strangle me to death. Please.
ALEX: Dude, that’s not even funny.
[Well, it was yesterday, when I wrote it!]
ALEX: Excuse me? Yesterday? You mean staying-up-till-3-in-the-morning-and-giggling-madly-at-Way-Of-The-Dragon yesterday?
[It had a camp Chinese guy in it! Who said stuff like “that’s the way I like it, straight to the point”!]
POSE: Please, I beg of you, stop…
[Never! Well, ok.]
POSE: Thanks. Can I get a photo with you guys? Please? The guys at the Star-Con will be so jealous, I *swear*…
CG: *frozen grin* Uh, sure…
ALEX: I have a feeling that you two and Pose are going to get along juuuuusssst fine… heh heh heh…
BG: Ihateyou.
[We see a door. A normal door, perfectly ordinary in every respect. It’s rather a nice door, if you’re into that kind of thing. The camera turns away from the door, and instead focuses across the street, to the large mansion. Uh, on the other side… of… the… street.]
AUTHOR: Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it and it’ll not be a problem!
[Inside, the sounds of merriment are heard… a party, and a good one at that.]
CROWD: *various party noises*
[But, uh, something seems wrong. Hideously wrong, in fact.]
DJ: *various DJ noises*
[They’re all wearing nothing but black, for one thing… and they all have nametags. An “office do”... the ultimate evil!]
CROWD: *drunkenly cheering amateur (read: unpaid) strippers*
[But they seem to be having quite a lot of fun, so that can’t be right… ah, wait, a figure has taken the mike off the DJ.]
MIKE: Hey!
[The author is led away by kind people.]
FIGURE: Hey! Beta base! Are you having FUN?
CROWD: *drunkenly* Yeeeeeeeaah!
FIGURE: Can’t HEAR you…
CROWD: YEEEEEEEAAAAH!
FIGURE: Paaarrddddddonnn?
CROWD: Dude, we said “yeah” twice. What kind of deaf wind-up
guy are you?
FIGURE: *deflates* Sorry…
CROWD: Good.
FIGURE: Anyway, you all know why you’re partying, right?
CROWD: YEEEEEEEAHHH!
FIGURE: But the readers don’t. Congratulations, then, on getting hold of the first three parts of the Quadraforce!
[Fucking hell… I’m really, really sorry.]
CROWD: *uproar*
FIGURE: So keep on rockin’!
CROWD: …
FIGURE: I’msorry.
CROWD: …
FIGURE: Ahem. Anyway. Zach! Ivy! Dacey! Hit the hoses!
TRIO OF IMPORTANT LOOKING PEOPLE: Yeah, sir!
[They turn valves. A fizzy liquid that looks a lot like champagne sprays out of the sprinkler system, and the crowd goes wild! Dude, I’m 14, I don’t go to clubs much, ok? I’m pretty much making this up as I go along.]
FIGURE: Right, platoon, you’ve earned this party, you enjoy it!
[As he darts offstage, the crowd drunkenly cheer “Whit-man! Whit-man!”…]
[We zoom back to our five intrepid heroes…]
BG: Aaargh! It’s ruined!
CG: I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I don’t cook much, ok?
ALEX: Sod it, there’s a Pizza Hut nearby… shall we go there?
[Pose bursts in with an armful of silver packages…]
CG: Oh, great, I bet this is some sort of “superhero food”, isn’t it?
POSE: Uh, no, sorry… it’s an Indian takeaway. *disturbed* Should it be?
CG: *to author* Ihateyou.
[I know. Eat!]
ALEX: Ah, naans. Most pointless of trenchers, and yet the most delicious, outstripping the parahta by f-
BG: Shut up.
[They eat. And Pose washes up.]
POSE: *sudsy, to self…* Heh heh… superhero… washing… mine!
ALL: …
BG: Dude, we have to get out of here… this guy’s just too weird!
CG: Agreed, but where do we go?
CAZ: *coughs, “accidentally” drops keycard*
BG: Your aunts place?
CAZ: *coughs more, nudges card towards them*
CG: Nah… too small. Howsabouts that flat in Manhattan?
CAZ: Ahem. Hemm hemm.
BG: Too expensive… Moscow?
CAZ: Does it have a *keycard for entry*?
CG: Dunno, have to check that… any other ideas?
MATT: *rolling eyes* How about that abandoned military base, then? It should be working, shouldn’t it?
BG: Oh, god, yeah! That’d be perfect, wouldn’t it?
CG: Yeah, I mean, it was a base, it must have had living facilities…
ALEX: Can you actually walk and talk at the same time?
[We return to the large mansion venue for the party… the following day. The place is, uh, a mess.]
SOLDIER #1: *waking up* Ohh… shitt… muhhh? You?
[He staggers up and kicks another recumbent form. The body snorts, and stumbles to its feet.]
SOLDIER #2: Urgh… what did they HAVE in that sprinkler system?
SOLDIER #1: Sod that, what’re we gonna do about this place? It’s totally fucked and I need something to drink.
SOLDIER #2: *proffering bottle* Er, drink up, then… and yeah, the place is wasted.
SOLDIER #1: We’re dead.
[The two soldiers glumly cast their eye over the wreckage that remains of the main living room of Commander Whitman’s weekend house. They stare sadly in silence for a while. Presently, a bugle will begin to play. Before this, though, a lone private picks his way through the chaos, and approaches the two veterans…]
SOLDIER #3: *hasty salute* Sir.. it’s… it’s carnage out there… *breaks down*
SOLDIER #1: What? It’s worse? Pull yourself together, man, what’s happening?
SOLDIER #3: F…Foxhound squad raided the secret drinks cabinet, sir… they drank EVERYTHING! And they’re still sleeping… there’s vomit everywhere…
SOLDIER #2: *gravely removing helmet* Sir, permission to reconnoitre?
SOLDIER #1: Denied. *to soldier #3* Private, I will tell you this now. War sure is hell. But it is NOTHING compared to a house full of soldiers on the piss, and wanting something to dance to. Find some men, acting-sergeant, and try to salvage as many items of furniture as possible. Then call the demolition services.
SOLDIER #3: *in tears* Yeh… yes sir…
SOLDIER #2: May god have mercy on our souls.
CAZ: Say, you wouldn’t happen to know whether that guy we got directions off was from Carlisle, would you?
[The group are now half way up the coldest, bleakest mountain in the Pennines you can find. And they are very angry.]
ALEX: How the hell should I know?
MATT: It’s just that I could have sworn I’d seen him before…
ALEX: *shielding map from icy cold north wind, which, yes, doth blow* Oh, great... so?
CAZ: On Britains Corniest Conmen.
ALEX: Ah.
CAZ: Yup. “Arnie the lizard”. The nations worst pathological liar, I believe.
CG: Aarrrrrrgh, you idiot… now we’re lost, we don’t have a car as it got trampled by a herd of rather determined cows and driven into a ditch by SOMEONE-
ALEX: Sorry, ok?
CG: And now it’s cold, wet, dark, and dank, and we haven’t a fucking CLUE where to go!
ALEX: Well I dunno, maybe you could use your oh-so-special superpowers to help find the place?
BG: Yeah. Lets see. Where would they put a military base?
[The group think.]
BG: Answer: NOT IN THE FUCKING PENNINES!
ALEX: Hey, hey! Caz found the keycard, so why are you shouting at me?
BG: We like Caz.
MATT: Yeah. Now get back to map reading. We’re supposed to be THERE, but we’re HERE, next to that precipice, and so we have to go roun- precipice?
CAZ: There is no precipice to be seen.
MATT: I’m not bloody surprised, this is a map of Narnia!
CG: Oh, shit… my cousin’s gonna reckon that C.S. Lewis meant there to be a Manchester Ring Road in Lantern Wastes…
BG: Lovely. We’re lost, and haven’t got a map. Your compass still resolutely points southwest, and either it’s rewritten all of the laws of navigation, OR, and I stress this is a MAYBE, your COMPASS IS FUCKED.
CAZ: It was in a cracker! What do you expect?
ALEX: *waving arms* Uh, hey, lets go shelter in those caves, then, it’s bloody freezing out here… (phew, stopped ‘em arguing...)
[The group do so, to the general relief of all concerned. They enter the caves…]
[Back to the mansion…]
ZACH: zzzZZZzzzZZZZzzzzz…. *sleeps*
[He snorts, and wakes up slowly. Staring at the ceiling, Colonel Zach Winterman wonders idly just who the hell he is, where the hell he is, and why he only had one pillow…]
ZACH: Urgh… *yawn, stretches*… god, my head hur-ur-rts… huh?
[He stares in horror at the person lying next to him.]
ZACH: Ivy? *clamping hand on forehead* Oh, shit, oh shit oh shit oh shit!
IVY: *rolling over, smiling contentedly* Oh, hey, you…
ZACH: No! No! This is not good! Why the HELL are we sleeping together?
IVY: *frowning* You didn’t like it?
ZACH: Argh! No, it’s… argh.
IVY: Shssssshhhhhhhh…
[Poignant, isn’t it?]
ZACH: *after a while, desperate, manically cheerful* So, uh, I always wondered… what’s it like being a spy?
IVY: Oh, it’s ok… sneaking around in Russia, and stuff… what’s it like being an explosives expert?
ZACH: I get to blow stuff up. S’alright, really.
IVY: I can see… you tend to take after your explosions, then… erupting bang on time… *grins*
ZACH: …
[They lie in silence for a bit, Zach trying to avoid Ivy’s gaze.]
ZACH: *desperately making conversation* So, uh, howdja find
your bit of the Quadraforce?
[Like I said, I’m very, very sorry.]
IVY: Hmm? Oh, me and my squad found it in some ancient ruins somewhere… there was this other thing near it, but we left it.
ZACH: Why?
IVY: Oh, it was broken. Damn shame, we coulda done with another shieldbelt
technology…
ZACH: Ah, uh, right.
[Silence.]
IVY: *eventually* Hey… do you remember using protection?
ZACH: *coughs and splutters violently*
IVY: I can check if you want, you know…
ZACH: No! No! Uh… *peek*…
IVY: Hmm?
ZACH: ….eep.
IVY: Ah. Bugger.
ZACH: *moaning* Oh fuck… what the hell is Dacey gonna say? You were getting married next month, for gods sake! He’s… going… to kill… me… *freezes*
[He turns over slowly.]
DACEY: Hey, you… *smiles contentedly*
[The group have got a fire going, by the simple process of setting fire to all of Alex’s belongings.]
BG: Well, we should be able to ride out this really quite fantastically harsh storm in here… shame about all those painting on the walls, though, I mean, some people will just vandalise anything…
CG: Yeah, and all they drew were oxen…
[Caz and Matt are inexpertly cooking bacon over the fire, Alex is slightly stunned by a rock and “resting”, and CG and BG are simply making conversation.]
BG: Looks like we’ll haveta go back to that freak “Pose”, then…
CG: Feh, yeah… I found out his real name, actually… Eugene.
BG: Seriously?
CG: Yeah! “Pose” is an improvement, really…
[They sit in silence for a while.]
CG: What do you reckon that military base would look like? I mean, it’s a subterranean lair, they’re not exactly common…
BG: Dunno. Big door, mainly metal, I’d think.
CG: You, uh, mean, like that large metal door over there?
BG: Hmm?
[Set into the side of the cave is a huge metal portal. God, how did they miss it before? How many times have you seen this kind of plot device used before?]
BG: Uh, blimey.
[They slowly get up and go to it.]
BG: *ahem*
[*rereading previous line* Oh, uh, damn. They slowly get up and go to the door.]
BG: Thank you. Not, I hasten to add, that there’s owt WRONG with that, but…
CG: Indeed. Anyway, what’s this on the side of the frame?
[Peering closer, he makes out what appears to be a credit card reader.]
BG: Keycard! Keycard! Put it in there!
[It is with alarmingly bad timing that Alex wakes up to that sentence.]
ALEX: Hmm…whussuh? … aaaaargh! Aaaaaaaargh! Aaaaaaaaargh!
CG: Hmm? Oh, you’re up.
ALEX: A keycard? Jesus…
CG: Go on, swipe it!
ALEX: Wuh? Where? What’s happening? I mean, when people are hit behind the ear with a rock, they tend to feel slightly disorientated. Call this weird, and all, but they do… and how did you manage to get a fire going here?
BG: The fire is not important now. And this is the military base! We found it!
ALEX: Really? Then it looks like I’m right. So hah.
CG: Swipe the card, for god’s sake!
ALEX: Agh… my glasses are missing… god’s saké?
BG: Ok, it’s swiped…
ALEX: I mean, can He drink saké?
[A computer screen “fyoomp”s into life. A few bytes of data flicker across the screen.]
CG: Yes! The systems are alive!
ALEX: *oblivious* And out of what? How could you get a saké glass that big?
COMPUTER: Welcome to The Bank of Cyprus vault #13… please wait for access verification…
CG: What the hell?
COMPUTER: *beep* Unfortunately, your passcard is invalid. Please refrain from attempting to enter this area, as a twenty three thousand volt current has began circulating through the door to ensure optimal service to you, our customer… Unfortunately, your passcard…
CG: “Bank of Cyprus”? What?
BG: Bugger!
CAZ: *bounding up* Hey, what happened?
CG: Arrrgh, we thought we had the base found…
BG: But it’s the Bank Of Cyprus…
CAZ: Ooh, righty… then you’d better have a look at this, then…
ALEX: And how could you distill that much alcohol anyway?
[Back at the mansion…]
COMMANDER WHITMAN: And just WHAT the hell did you do to this place?
[The assembled soldiers hang their heads in shame.]
WHITMAN: I mean, come on, you didn’t even TOUCH the wallpaper! I spent ages getting this party organised, and you don’t even use the chance to destroy things properly!
[The soldiers look up, bewildered.]
WHITMAN: What the hell did you DO all night? Play pass the parcel?
SOLDIER #3: Umm..
WHITMAN: Out with it, man.
[Soldier #1, with great presence of mind, kicks Soldier #3.]
SOLDIER #1: The boy’s just trying to apologise, sir. Isn’t that right?
SOLDIER #3: ‘s sir.
WHITMAN: Of course, sergeant, of course. Now I want you to know that I’m very, very displeased with ALL of you…
SOLDIERS: meep.
WHITMAN: So your evening pass tonight is revoked. And the next night. And the night after that. And this state of affairs will continue INDEFINETLY!
SOLDIERS: *chorus of “aww, sirrrrr!”’s and “not fair!”’s*
WHITMAN: UNLESS…
SOLDIERS: *shutting up*
WHITMAN: You find the last piece of the quadraforce† faster than the prediction, you can have the free time as your own AND I’ll revoke this curfew. Understood?
[ †…Do you understand how sorry I am?]
SOLDIERS: *chorus of “yes sir”’s.*
[The squad files out.]
WHITMAN: God I’m crafty.
CG: It’s a what?
CAZ: It says here… “Sierra Storage Depot”…
[The five have arrived at yet another large door set into the rock of the mountain, with a inscription of two crossed saws above it. They already passed the Bank Of Norway vault, and the Shigmund Leisure Complex.]
BG: No we didn’t.
[You’re right. Anyway, instead of simply swiping the card and seeing what happens, the group argue at the entrance to the base.]
BG: Uh, no, we don’t.
[Stop ruining my fic.]
BG: Stop stalling for time!
CG: Lessee… the card fits, anyway…
COMPUTER: *fyomp*
MATT: It lives!
COMPUTER: Welcome to The Sierra Army Depot…
ALEX: Never seen THAT before.
COMPUTER: Please hold… searching database… good morning, Captain, welcome to the depot.
CAZ: Hehee, it thinks we’re the guy who owns the card!
CG: Then let’s go!
[Meanwhile, in the subplot… gah, I mean… Meanwhile, in Whitman’s office..]
COMMANDER ALAN WHITMAN: *reclining in chair* Heh heh heh…
CAPTAIN ZACH WINTERMAN: Hmm, sir?
WHITMAN: Oh, nothing, just a general self-satisfied laugh… not, and I stress, not, an evil snigger as done by villains around the world.
ZACH: Very good, sir.
WHITMAN: Yeah. I mean, how often do you get the chance to search out for the ultimate treasure with all of the military might of the Flavian Empire behind you? It’s probably unheard of… lucky I’m the best mate of the King, isn’t it?
ZACH: Sir? Are you feeling ok? You seem to be… enunciating things more.
WHITMAN: Huh? Oh, uh, sorry. Anyway. Call in Dacey and Ivy, wouldja?
[Heh, for once these characters are made up out of my own head, not lifted from real life.]
SPECIAL AGENT IVY ROUGÉ: Reporting, sir.
GENERAL DACEY “NEEDLESSLY LONG NAME” HARBINKLE: *saluting* Sir!
WHITMAN: You, uh, sure you need all that on your nametag?
DACEY: It’s a name, sir, so yeah.
WHITMAN: Oh, uh, right. Anyway, you must be wondering why I called you here today.
IVY: Not really, sir, I keep in practice by reading your correspondence. Does your wife know about “Cynthia”, sir?
WHITMAN: Huh? What? No! *pulling self together* Ok, then, Dacey, YOU must be wondering why you’re here.
DACEY: Nope, Ivy told me.
WHITMAN: Great. Why don’t I just post all of our top secret assignments on the bloody internet, and put “SEX MP3 DESTINY’S CHILD” in the metatags?
IVY: Sorry, sir.
WHITMAN: Right. Well, fair enough, you know what you’re doing. Report to Duppo for your armaments, take your pick of stuff. Then take Beta squad and get a helicopter. Hmm… actually, hang on…
[He picks up the phone and says a few words in a different language, and listens to the reply. It is loud and violent, by the looks of things, but spoken Flavian is anyway, so meh.]
WHITMAN: Righty ho, looks like Zach is going with you, too.
ZACH: What? Huh?
WHITMAN: Damn, looks like we’re gonna have to do a proper mission briefing, after all…
IVY/DACEY: *muttermuttermutter*
ZACH: Sorry. *snapping* I’d have thought you’d be a bit more forgiving, you know, after yesterd-
IVY: Yesterday? What happened yesterday? I don’t recall anything happening then.
ZACH: Hmm. Right.
WHITMAN: Shuddit. You take a squad and go into this underground base to find the last bit of the Quadraforce, ok? Dacey and Ivy will fill you in.
DACEY: Ahem.
ZACH: *nervously* Um, right. Where is this base?
WHITMAN: Best I can give you is a county and an aerial photo… sorry.
IVY: Yeah. Our spy camera was shot down with extreme alacrity by a particularly nasty form of railgun, it seems.
DACEY: How d’ja know?
IVY: We saw it, it was only a few feet away.
WHITMAN: Anyway, tis in Greater Manchester. Get going.
[Silence in the Sierra Army Depot. Then… the sound of hydraulics.]
COMPUTER: *beep*
[A large metal door begins to slowly open. Light pours into the room containing the door, so to speak, showing the silhouettes of several figures posing furiously. The door opens fully, and the dramatic tension is only slightly marred by the fact that the tallest figure accidentally slams its head into the not-actually-quite-fully-opened door.]
ALEX: AAARGH! Ow! Christ!
BG: Heh, told you you were too tall.
CAZ: We’re here! Damn shame it took so long to actually write this bit!
CG: Oh, come on, it’s not the authors fault that he prefers writing for fictional characters to real life people… *glares*
[I was stuck!]
CG: Indeed. Come on, lets look around this place!
ALEX: *with a fine sense of “irony”* Gonna call top bunk, are we?
BG: *nudging Matt* Does he, uh, miss the point or something?
ALEX: Gah, forget it.
[And so we end the ill-advised joke. You see, if these were FICTIONAL characters, then I’d have no restraints, but noooooo…]
MATT: Do fictional characters, then!
[I’ve done 27 pages of this, I ain’t quitting now.]
COMPUTER: *beep*
CG: Hmm?
COMPUTER: *beepbeep*
BG: Why’s it beeping?
COMPUTER: *beepbeepbeep*
[As soon as the computer beeps thrice, a klaxon begins to
wail like a waily klaxony thing. A loud female voice is heard over the
loudspeakers, on the grounds that if there’s an emergency, people may as well
die with a sexy voice telling them everything’s ok. A large metal door opens,
and a highly advanced security robot clanks out. Highly advanced in that it can
make human-like mistakes. Clever, huh? A large metal screen pops up, with the
legend
CG: 500
hp
BG: 450
hp
printed on it in alarmingly large, red letters.]
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzttt… clank, whirr… bzzztt..* Welcome… *bzzt* To The Sierra Army… *whirrrrr* Depot… Unfortunately, The System Is Suffering Minor Problems With *whiiiiiiinnnneee* Our Friend-Or-Foe Identification System…. *brrrreeeeeccckkk SNAP*… And Is Being Refurbished For Your Convenience.
ALEX: Aw, bugger. Well, uh, looks like this is a job for you two…
CG: Huh? *looks around*
[Alex, Matt and Caz have vanished.]
BG: Bastards! Now we’re left alone with this thing!
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzzt* I Can’t Let You Do That, Dave… *grrrkkkpp* Andthisisunheardof, TheentiremexicanfleethaveINVADEDengland… *bzzt* Zibberdeeddeeeee!
CG: And, um, how dangerous is i- JESUS!
[He narrowly ducks a backhand from the robot, which dents the wall. The, uh, solid steel pillar with a backing of granite.]
BG: Argh! Dammit!
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzt* And, Heh Hee, That Ain’t The Least Of It! *slam*
BG: Lessee…
[Balancing on one foot, BG tenses don’t you DARE read anything vile into this. Dodging under a swinging arm (behave!), she pauses momentarily, then drives a hand into the eye socket area of the robot.]
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzzt* Hehehehee… I… Didn’t Like That At All… *whirrrrr*
BG: Huh?
[A small shutter comes down from the eyelids. Luckily, BG manages to pull her hand away from the eye just in time to be resoundingly hammered in the stomach with a servo-assisted jab that would split steel in… yup, you saw it coming, in twain.]
BG: ….eee…
[As BG flies through the air and lands in a crumpled heap, CG begins to get angry. Darting through the flailing arms, CG tries a different approach. He shoves the top of his canteen in the mouth of the robot, and strikes the thing on the jaw, biting the top off the metal bottle and tipping a pint of coke into the sensitive electronics in the inside.]
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzzzt* Oh Dear…Eeeep.
CG: Ha hah! Take that, you metal… uhm…
MATT: *through intercom* Psst… try “hideous waste of good can metal”…
CG: You hideous waste of can metal!
MATT: Well done.
CG: Heh! *glows* Huh? Shit!
[He dashes over to BG who is lying on the floor, coughing.]
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzt…*
[The scoreboard reads:
CG: 500
hp
BG: 104
hp
despite the fact that CG just “killed” the bot…]
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzttt…* Oh, Jesus, Keith, That’s The Last Time You Get Me Drunk… *grrrreettt CLANK*
[The robot gets to it’s feet and “vomits” a stream of coke onto the ground.]
BG: Arrgh… *cough* Fuck… no wonder it’s still going… *cough* Why would it have an oesophagus? Why would it have to eat anything? It’s just got a stomach sack… *cough*
CG: Goddammit, why won’t you just DIE!
BG: I’m only trying to help!
CG: You know who I’m talking to…
BG: *grins* Yup… *cough*
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzzzzzt* Heheheheheeeee… Looks Like Someone Has Fucked Logic Circuits... Let’s See What You’re Made Of… Pappy Has A Brand New Spoon… *whirrr*
CG: Grr… right, lets try this…
[He darts round the back of the robot and leaps onto the back.]
BG: Oh great, not only have I just been punched with alarming force in the stomach, my boyfriend wants to elope with a big robot… *giggles*
CG: I’m trying to stop it, for gods sake!
BG: I know, I *cough* know, just winding you up… *cough*
[CG evidently has a plan. Either that, or he just likes the feel of cold steel, which is doubtful.]
BG: Shaddup.
OMEGA BOT: *bbzzzzzt* Excuse Me Mr Halibut, That’s A No-Go Area Of My Person… *whiiirrrrr*
[The greyhound lord focuses on the back of the robots head. A thin, intense stream of laser light streaks from his pupils, from the specially adapted cells in the back of his eye. Naturally, to make this looks exciting, the robot emits argon in order to make the beam be seen.]
BG: *still recumbent, but beginning to try to think about the possibility of perhaps maybe entertaining the thought of the odds of her getting up approaching a decent figure.* Hmm, nice.
[The robot begins to thrash around violently. The back of its head is beginning to melt, and CG is starting to sweat heavily…]
CG: Arrrgh… dammit, Cyclops never had this problem…
[Well, he didn’t have to use specially adapted photogenic cells in the back of his eyes to capture light and refocus it into a laser beam strong enough to melt admantium, did he?]
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzzzt* Argle, Argle, Mr Kipling! Hot! Hot! Catch That Flamingo! Damn Lutraphiles!
[A small prize to the first person who can tell me what a Lutraphile is, (besides Kate and Caz, my proof reading groupies :P)…]
CG: Dammit… melt, for gods sake! Melt! Melt! I… I gotta blink!
BG: Oh dear.
[The Omega Bot finally throws off CG into a corner, winding him seriously, and shakes it’s head. The damage is done, though. The paintwork has been seriously scratched!]
CG: Bollocks, I’m impotent against this thing!
BG: …
CG: It’s something superheroes say.
BG: Or it could be the author playing out his inadequacies on other people.
[Oi!]
BG: Well, it is.
[Is not. Anyway… the omega bot comes round for a second try. Let’s look at the scoreboard…
So, uh, things look grim.]
BG: Argle. Ok… one last try, and if this doesn’t work, you’d better work something out, or you don’t get that Foo Fighters album…
[Ok…]
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzt* All Systems Go… Impact In Soixante-Deux Seconds… Sierra! Sierra!
BG: Hmm… let’s give THIS a go…
[Diving under the flailing arms (do they do anything else?) of the crazed security machine, BG lunges for a fire extinguisher on the far wall.]
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzt* Five… Four…
BG: Mwa ha!
[She leaps onto the back of the thingy, and forces the nozzle into the very, very small hole made by CG. On with the switch…]
OMEGA BOT: *crank… whirrrrrrr* Three… Two…
BG: Workpleaseworkpleasepleasework…
[Bssssht. The nozzle tweaks itself on, and all-enveloping carbon dioxide foam forces into the key circuitry of the robot. In theory. In reality, it is pissed off quite a lot, as that did precisely nothing.]
BG: Damn. Oh damn damn damn.
[The bot smashes her against the wall again, but this time BG rolls with it, absorbing most of the impact. Still, she goes flying through the air to land by CG, who instinctively tries to protect her. By holding her. Natch.]
OMEGA BOT: *bssshhhttt… Tish… whirrrrrr* Don’t Make Me Angry… You Won’t Like Me Even More When I’m Angry… *clank* Two… One… We Have Ignition, They Call it An Affliction, I Think It’s Kind Of Bitchin’, I Think It’s Kind Of Neeeeaaaatttt… Now… OMEGA STORM!
[The robot stretches out to its full height, as opposed to the comfortable fighting stance it was just in. Its eyes flare red for a second, and then…]
OMEGA BOT: *du-veeeeeeeete, you know, the sound of a mechanical thing turning round* All Systems… Havin’ The Time Of Their Lives…
[The robot crouches for a minute, then blurs. CG+BG cower under a relentless rain of insanely well judged and aimed pulses, as to call them “blows” would defy the sheer rapidity of it. The entire attack is over in less than seventeen seconds, but during that time CG+BG have been reduced to, well, cowering figures, as over three thousand separate blows have been thrown by the robot. Needless to say, the beleaguered heroes haven’t got much fight left in them…]
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzt* You Like That, Bitch? Time For The Coup De Grace, Then…
CG: *groan*
[Scoreboard:
And things look pretty grim.]
CG: A… million hitpoints? Bugger…
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzt* You Ready Bitch?
[Blades spring out from concealed sheathes in its arms. Slowly, as it seriously overworked its motor during the Omega Storm, the security robot advances on CG.]
CG: Marvellous. Looks like I’m done for, then…
[…]
CG: Yes, looks like I’M DONE FOR, then…
[…]
CG: Hey, you listening?
[Yup. You were saying you were done for. Well done for noticing.]
CG: Hey! You haveta get me out of this! And none of that cop-out “die-then-reborn” rubbish of Insipid, please!
[Nope, sorry. This is where we stop writing for you, and concentrate on the other force finding the quadraforce.]
CG: Oh damn.
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzt* Can I Kill Them? Can I Mom? Can I? Great!
CG: *wailing* I don’t wanna die!
BG: *groggily, likewise* I don’t want him to die!
CG: Or her!
BG: Or me!
OMEGA BOT: Sorry Folks, The Logic Circuits Are Back Online And You Are, For Want Of A Better Word, Shafted. Don’t Worry, You Won’t Feel Muc- *ting*
CG: Huh?
[As the spent shell casing drops to the floor, the robot turns round and sees…]
ZACH: Heh. Oldtech. Cool.
OMEGA BOT: *bzzzt* I’m Gonna Beat You Like A Red-Headed Stepchild, Dammit!
ZACH: Not likely, izzit?
[The metal machine (I need more synonyms!) charges him. Zach ducks and looses off another few rounds at it.]
CG: It’s no use, man… lasers won’t penetrate it…
ZACH: You assume too much, buddy…
[The bullets barely scratch the paintwork. The robot smiles, insofar as it can. Still, Zach is cool under pressure.]
OMEGA BOT: Best You Got?
ZACH: Funnily, no.
[Twisting a dial on his handgun, Zach takes aim again. This time he is slightly too slow in ducking the wild swing of the robots bladed arms, and gets clouted around the face. He goes flying.]
BG: Great, looks like we’re done for…
[Zach, however, isn’t. Twisting in midair, his army trenchcoat billowing out behind him, he somehow twists to land on his feet. As he does so, he fires off a couple of rounds. Although that’s rather an understatement. The two slugs tear through the air, leaving behind them a small trail of smoke. The robot merely looks smug, and continues to do so until the two bullets drill straight through the things skull, and detonate in the CPU.]
OMEGA BOT: *baddOOOM, bzzzzt* Argh… Sarge, He Got Me Good…
[The robot doesn’t take this lying down. Darting forward, it seizes Zach by the shoulders, and pulls outwards. With a contemptuous flick of his shoulders, he forces the arms of the metallic rampager inwards, and looses off another few of his special rounds into its midriff, where the motor systems are found.]
ZACH: Get it yet?
OMEGA BOT: *gveeeeeeeet… bzzzzt… CRACKLE* Arrghhhh… Still Not Got Me Down Yet… Bitch… Didn’t Think Of This, Didja?
[The robot collapses to the ground, dragging Zach over and upwards. It uses what little power it still possesses (more than enough to power Newcastle for a day, though) to thrust out its leg at something approaching mach 7, thrusting Zach up and over it’s head.]
BG: Damn… he’s good.
CG: Yeah…
BG: We gonna help?
CG: Nah.
[Once again, Zach turns this to his advantage. Flourishing in midair, and dropping his assault pistol, he activates some sort of hidden mechanism. Two rather evil looking oversized pistols shoot out from the recesses of his coat, and land in his hands. Simultaneously, he twists in midair to land with his feet on the ceiling. Absorbing the impact by bending his legs, he turns the upward momentum into a rebounding dive for the opposite wall. Pulling his legs up again, he lands on the wall, and seems to hang there for a second or two… then, with alarming skill and presence of mind, sprints down the wall, and snaps off two more shots at the robot.]
ZACH: *barely breaking a sweat* Stay down!
[CG+BG flatten themselves moreso, as the rocket-propelled slugs (not literally…) streak their way towards the bemused and now rather afraid robot. As Zach drops to the ground, with a spin that effectively returns the two large weapons to their sheath and puts him into a one-knee crouch, the bullets drill into the holes made by the previous bullets and penetrate the brain of the Omega Bot…]
CG: The same fucking place? You haveta be kidding me.