WOWIE! Long time no see, FFN! I promise I'll update my other fanfics sooner or later. Namely, the next chapters are a bit tough to write, and I won't even mention writer's block—oops! Too late; I did. XD
So I did watch the MvA TV series and have seen all of the episodes. Some ideas I'll most likely apply to my stories, but I won't can the series as official canon. With the introduction of the last two aliens Sta'abi & Vornicarn, this came into my mind. So, c'mon out, Phyl, out of the mass of dust bunnies for this one-shot. In fact, everybody can come out.
All Invisoline OC's: Yay!
Phyl: Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hey, can this be banned for racism?
Sometime in 2025,
Phyllis leaned against the metal gray wall in one of the vast vacant rooms in Area *Bleep!* It was early morning, and breakfast hadn't been served yet. She lightly yawned and blew a blond-and-blue strand of hair out of her face with a puff of air from the corner of her mouth.
Boringly, the 32-year-old monster pulled out a small hard-paper box from her pocket and lifted up one of the five cigarettes inside. She reached inside the same pocket again to pull out a tiny gray lighter with the top secret facility's symbol on both sides. With a single flick, the cigarette sticking out of her mouth was lit, and she sucked in, pulled away the lit stick, and puffed out a stream of gray-white smoke. She relaxed and put away the lighter and pack.
This little habit was picked up about four years ago. General Monger didn't appreciate it all too well and neither did a few of the monsters like Dr. Cockroach and Susan. She remembered…
"My dear, you'll develop lung or throat cancer!" Dr. Cockroach would warn.
"Says the doctor who concocts alcoholic drinks." Phyllis brushed off.
"Phyllis!" Susan protested. "We should work to be examples to the younger monsters!"
"And BOB too, I guess. Forget it."
For a while Monger restricted her from doing so under the penalty of losing a privilege or two. That method lasted for a bit until Link and Dr. Cockroach reminisced out-loud of seeing Monger smoking dandy, large cigars back in the 1960s. Phyllis won the case and could now smoke whenever she liked but only in designated sites. She had turned this cell into a smoking cell where monsters, staff members, and employees alike could enjoy a good puff or two. However, smoking was restricted to only tobacco—no crack, heroin, or weed, thank you.
As she breathed in, a way too sudden, loud crash sounded twenty feet away from her, surprising her and making her choke. The cigarette fell out of her mouth by her feet.
"What the-! " She wheezed as pieces of metal debris flew toward her. She braced herself from any more, coughing until she could steal a piece of air. She rose as the last of the debris ceased to fly.
"Ha!" A female, accented voice exclaimed. "Great work, Vorni-" A deep, loud sneeze interrupted the compliment as a purple transparent, acidic glob of mucus-like snot aimed at the wall. Phyllis dodged it quickly and watched in repulse as some of the large loogie drip-dropped onto the floor.
She picked her cigarette back up, grateful that it didn't go out. Putting it back in between her teeth, she rolled her eyes. "Not you again, darn it." She mumbled and whispered at the same time.
Phyllis hated putting up with this with a capital "H"; and not just because she hated aliens. General Monger always believed that "keep your enemies closer" hogwash, but to the point of getting along with yet still being against each other? It seemed a wonder he wasn't posting a monster-E.T. version of the "Coexist" bumper sticker everywhere next to his "I AM ALWAYS WATCHING YOU, ALWAYS" posters, let alone on every jetpack and vehicle in this place. This was "Monsters versus Aliens," not "Monsters and Aliens." Many in the facility complained of this, especially the monsters. We'll say this much: whatever Monger had in mind of monsters and aliens living together in one place was a mystery.
As far as monsters and aliens—friends and foes, good and evil, "us" and "them"—went, what did Phyllis say about it? Coverton, whom she dubbed "Turpin" because he sounded somewhat like Alan Rickman (at least she thought so), got along with none of the monsters and had no intentions of the sort, yesterday, today, and forever. On the other hand, Sqweep, dubbed "Pinky" or "Kid", was the little Miss Smarty-Pants peace maker, albeit partial with her alien counterparts but very cordial with the monsters and humans of this base. Vornicarn, the purple rodeo bull, could be trusted to be nothing but trouble, trouble, trouble. Sta'abi, his mistress, was a hard-headed, no-nonsense, racist narcissist who would be the perfect protagonist in an E.T.-style Sparta movie.
Each of the monsters all had suspicions—except B.O.B. He could probably even get along with the Devil himself. As far as the "Coexist" factor went, he was the champion. Other exceptions to defense and sensing threats from aliens included Link. He was head over heels smitten when he first saw Sta'abi. What was it that he saw in Sta'abi that was worthwhile, the monsters asked many a time? Who knows? Not to pat herself on the back, but Phyllis thought that while she may be as hot-headed as the female alien she was easier to get along with and definitely more attractive. No, she was not jealous or crushing on Link, but still; it was disgusting.
Sta'abi fluttered her pale, fluorescent blue eyes as the debris settled down. She gritted her teeth, even harder when she saw Phyllis. She jumped off the back of Vornicarn and stalked towards the wall to stare down the seemingly inferior monster.
"Whaddya want, Warhead?" Phyllis sneered, letting out another puff.
"What is this infernal stench?" Sta'abi asked, utterly disgusted at the scent of the room.
"You should talk." Phyl responded. "Looks like your purple rodeo bull can't stand this any better than you can, Warhead." She nodded her head towards the glob, which happened to smell like rotten eggs. While Sta'abi looked down at and smelled the site, Phyllis chuckled on the inside at Vornicarn desperately whimpering and trying to cover his bugle-shaped ears, which seemed to serve as nostrils as well.
Sta'abi looked away from the site to spy on Vornicarn and then turned back to her cornered prey. "Silence, you whining earthling." She crouched over Phyllis. "Intolerance of this stench is for the weak."
"So you're telling me to suck it up?" Phyllis next leaned forth and breathed out a stream of the tobacco smoke—right into Sta'abi's face. She smirked as the yellow-skinned alien drew back and coughed. She wondered what Vornicarn was thinking, the puppy-like "noble" steed still covering his ears.
Sta'abi recovered herself and growled, jumping onto the Vornicarn's back. She glared at the smug-looking monster. Phyllis leapt onto the large alien's head to face the victory-freak. Vornicarn growled until Phyllis snapped, "Shut it, rodeo bull!"
Outraged and miles beyond ready to pummel her nemesis, Sta'abi pressed her face against Phyllis'. "I'll say this much, insolent earthling!" She declared. "The commander of this base has another means of battle after the morning meal. You monsters may have triumphed over us aliens last time, but today I guarantee you that today you will eat failure!"
"Sorry, Warhead." She replied after breathing out another stream of smoke. "I eat aliens for breakfast."
Sta'abi snorted a "hmph!" "We will never back down, earthling. Ever! We aliens are the master race!"
"Can it. We monsters will win and kick butt. And we can do it again and again and again."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah?!"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah?!"
"Yeah!"
"YEAH?!"
"…Yeah." Phyllis said calmly. She momentarily paused. Then before one could shout, "son of a gun!" Vietnam-style, she quickly drew the front of the collar of Sta'abi's suit open and, with a little tap on her cigarette butt, sprinkled little salt-and-pepper ashes into the crevice of her small, perky breasts.
That did it.
In a reward for assaulting the glorious Sta'abi, Phyllis received a firm punch in the solar plexus and a full-blown alien knock down onto the floor. Wincing in the pain, she couldn't lose focus. Not now. The yellow hands and purple-clad legs pinned her down on the floor like thumbtacks on a cork board. Sta'abi grunted and grinned in triumph.
Phyllis leaned back and pushed herself into a backward somersault. The push landed Sta'abi on her back. Phyllis smiled; now this was the way it was supposed to be: monsters versus aliens. She quickly got up and turned around to see the brat. What have you got now? Huh? She thought.
Sta'abi rocketed into the air and tumbled, landing on Vornicarn. Within a quick swipe, she held her large abnormal staff. She slowly marched toward Phyllis, letting the pole come to life. Tilting it to the ground, she began to circle Phyllis and prepared to chant her usual curse. Unwilling to take that kind of horse feathers, Phyllis generated a ball of electricity in the palm of her hand, the large amounts of energy radiating throughout her body. This great force made her hair rise from off her shoulders and away from her face. She threw a completely perfect electrical sphere at the alien like a snowball.
Catching the site of the lightning at the last minute, Sta'abi caught the attack with her staff. "Why you,…" She growled and fired a similar rapidly twitching ball of electricity. Phyllis caught it with both hands and began to insert more power into her catch. She shot it back like a cannon and struck the stem of the staff, coursing rapidly into Sta'abi's body.
The alien let out a groan in the shock and dropped to her knees. She looked up in time to see a hand thrust its way into her face. Fortunately for her, she caught the fist in time and lifted the human-like monster in the air and slammed her down into the floor like a mallet. "Ha!" She exclaimed, hands on hip in her glory.
Phyllis lifted up her head, a bruise being born on her left eyebrow and blood trailing from her nose. "Blasted wretch of a dame!" She hissed, breathing heavily. She sprung up and lifted up her straightened right leg. Again, Sta'abi caught the sole of a black lace-up boot and slammed its owner back into the ground. Phyllis, remembering last time this happened, held herself up by her hands and flung Sta'abi downward instead. However, Sta'abi also had this strategy in mind and prepared to throw Phyllis down in a spike. Phyllis' free left leg plunged its way to the warrior alien's face and freed herself in a backwards tumble. Both aliens returned to the ground and faced each other like a showdown in a Western movie.
"Give up, insolent worm!" Sta'abi shouted down at the alien.
"The freaking heck I will!" Phyllis shouted back.
The two opponents lunged at each other, ready to release the final smash of this battle. Phyllis' generated electricity from her hand and Sta'abi's electricity from the peak of her staff misfired, both hitting the wall surrounding the squabble. Missing each other completely, they lunged again and collided. They pushed and pulled at each other. Throughout all this, Vornicarn sat nervously in the corner and tried to cover his buggy eyes.
"Prepare yourself…" Sta'abi warned, pushing her bodyweight against the seemingly lower life form. "…for great defeat."
"Come and get me, Warhead." Phyllis smirked through gritted teeth, resisting the burden against her.
"What in tarnation is going on in this room?!" A rough, Southern-accented voice boomed.
The two wide-eyed, blond-haired ladies froze in the middle of their fight and turned their faces towards the giant hole in the wall. General Monger descended like some divine messenger from above via jetpack into the room, a frowning glare on his face.
Here came the judge.
"Save this kind of a cat fight for today's game!" He barked. "C'mon; everybody else is in the mess hall. Get in line once you get there."
The two opponents said nothing but glared daggers at each other before following the general into the mess hall.
You will pay, earthling. Sta'abi's threatening face said.
Watch it, witch. Phyllis' face snapped back.
A few minutes later in the mess hall…
"Good morning, my dear." Dr. Cockroach greeted Phyllis. The other monsters echoed the doctor.
"Yeah, hi." She briefly smiled and waved, holding the tray as the trashy-looking chef plopped a thing of eggs and bacon onto a glass plate.
"Hey, sis." Elijah grinned. She sat next to her fur-covered brother, wrapping a bruised arm around his shoulder, and kissed him on the side of his face.
"Hey, Li." He was twenty-two now, a year older than she was when she became Electrill. He wasn't so little anymore, but he was the one thing in the whole world she treasured the most. She loved him so very, very much. If anything were to happen to him, she'd want nothing more than to end her life. She took a napkin to his soul patch-decorated chin and wiped off a bit of blood and juice left over from a recently consumed slab of raw meat.
"Watch it, sis." He said, turning his face away. Quickly he looked back at her and saw the bruise and dried blood on her face.
"Hey what's that?" Jenny, the now twenty-seven-year-old invisible monster, asked interestedly.
"What happened, Phyl?" Liv asked, concerned.
"Nothing you need to worry about." Phyllis shrugged. She tried hard to ignore a sneering Sta'abi approaching her. "Mornin', Warhead." Sta'abi only snorted as she sat down.
"Sure." Link rolled sarcastically as he mentally proposed a series of sparks flying between the two women. Phyllis only kicked his short, thin leg under the table.
"Morning, babe;" Link said in as much as a deep, sexy voice he could muster. "Say, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" Sta'abi snorted again and ignored him, obviously too good for him.
"You'd better believe it." Sqweep tried to pacify the mood with a petite smile on her face, even though she probably didn't fully agree with the fish-man. Susan and Jenny face-palmed.
Phyllis nodded her head and shoved a piece of pepper-and-cheese sprinkled egg into her mouth. "That dame is a fallen angel."
"What?" Link shrugged. He winced at another kick under the table.
Nothing more was spoken afterwards for the rest of breakfast, other than BOB asking, "What's going on?" The mess hall became a solemn, silent masquerade, poker faces covering most of the expressions and feelings hidden within the monsters, aliens, and facility staff members. As soon as the last crumb of eggs and bacon had been chewed and swallowed, the main alarm blared as everyone evacuated the mess hall. The staff resumed their daily duties of keeping Area *Bleep!* running like a well-oiled machine. The monsters and aliens stayed in the corridor, awaiting the presence of the head honcho.
"Alrightie, monsters and aliens. Hopefully this mornin's grub got you all energized and fired up. 'Cuz if it doesn't, don't come to the sidelines cryin'!"
The monsters and aliens took a mental note to prolong breakfast as much as possible if they ever wanted to avoid something like this someday.
"Today, y'all are gonna go for the gusto in the good ol' sport of mud wrasslin'!"
"Okay…" Sqweep bit down on her lip. She shuddered at the thought of temporarily abandoning her perfect, pristine sanitation levels to be brought into this filthy festivity.
You've gotta be kidding me. Susan, Dr. Cockroach, Liv, and Coverton thought in unison. Even still, Coverton let out his usual chuckle of evil. To the balding, gray aliens, his would work out splendidly, just as long as he didn't get dirty.
"Alright! Yeah!" Jenny, BOB, Link, and Elijah cheered. Vornicarn smiled and panted excitedly.
Phyllis and Sta'abi, on the other hand, brooded both boringly and angrily at the general and each other.
"And where on earth did Monger get a mud-pit?" Liv wondered, again puzzled by the ideas of her husband. "It's nothing but desert for miles and miles."
"A pit of mud, I should say?" BOB guessed.
"Or loads and loads of mud packs?" Jenny added playfully.
"C'mon; we've got keisters to kick." Susan thrust her right fist into the palm of her other hand and beat against it a few more times, popping her knuckles in an unladylike fashion.
Sta'abi repeated her oratorical prediction of triumph of the superior aliens over the simple, weak monsters, the three other aliens at her side smiling proudly and trying to be filled with faith. She went on to finish the speech with her trademark, "All honor and glory: Sta-aaaah—"
Her sentence was cut off by a semi-gloved hand against her mouth. Phyllis groaned and rolled her eyes. Enough already. She thought before grumbling,
"Go home, Warhead; you're drunk."
So Phyl calls Cove "Turpin" rather than other roles like "Severus." Why, you might ask? I just think she likes Sweeney Todd better than Harry Potter. A lot more bloodshed than fantasy, I think.
Vietnam-style, in that, means saying it in the fast talking speed of the Vietnamese. While we say "hole in the box," they say ,"holinbox." Like fast.
And to remind you, that Liv and Monger did marry in the Invisoline Trilogy.