Mountain Cave Chronicles

Summary: SSX-3. The guys think the girls are high-maintenance. The girls think the guys are insensitive. Atomika thinks it's the end of the world. First SSX fic, please R&R.

Disclaimer: I don't own SSX-3. If I did, Mac wouldn't have any shirts.

A/N: Hi everyone. This is my first SSX fic. It's just a bit of randomness, really, but I haven't posted anything in a while. By the way, sorry to all my faithful readers of my two Lost stories, but I'm really stumped for ideas on those right now. They will be continued, though, I promise. Also, me and my friend Fantasy-Flyer (read In the Ditch of Affection, seriously. It rocks) kind ofdecided that Mac and Marty were twins (I guess it's because we couldn't find his last name anywhere. Oh well, from what you can tell they look sort of alike, but Mac is hotter). There will be pairings by the end of this, but I'm not sure exactly which ones yet. Anyway, here you go-

Chapter One: In Which Everybody Has Cooties

Fraser,

Let me get to the point- stop throwing snowballs at me! Do you know how much I pay to have my hair styled? My clothes imported? My makeup done? Of course you do! We only went out for like, what, THREE YEARS! I mean, I know you're still like, totally in love with me and all, but I've moved on, okay? Just stop trying to get me back! You know what you did and you know why I won't have you back! YOU CALLED ME FAT!

Anyway, I'm with JP now, and I'm happy now. MUCH happier than I ever was with YOU. Got it, sk8er? GOOD! Now LEAVE. ME. ALONE!

-Marisol

P.S. You are a LOSER!

P.P.S. I HATE YOU!

P.P.P.S. I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!

P.P.P.P.S. In case you didn't know, I hate you!

Sighing, Mac Fraser tossed what had to be at least the thirtieth hate-mail message from Marisol Diez Diegado that week into the trash can with all its predecessors. A year after the breakup, and she was still doing this. He was over her- if anything, she was still in love with him.

"Another letter, man?" asked Moby Jones from the couch.

Mac nodded. "Yeah. This chick just doesn't know when to quit. She's never gonna get me back."

"Some people," his friend agreed, "What exactly did you do, again?"

"Funny story, actually," replied Mac, "You see, we went to this movie about a year ago, right? It was our anniversary and all that crap-"

"Anniversary and all that crap?" repeated Mac's annoying twin brother Marty, who had just walked into the room, "No wonder she broke up with you!"

Mac scowled. "Shut up. Anyway, she got the tickets while I went to get the food. I ordered a large popcorn that we could share, then two cokes, one diet. We met up and headed into the theatre, found some seats, made out for a while… she is a really bad kisser, actually. I mean, BAD. I guess she just likes to save it all for… well, what comes after, I gotta say, THAT was pretty good-"

It was then that he realized that there were people in the room, one of which was his brother who was on much better terms with both their parents than he was. What a mistake to make.

"So yeah, we stopped making out and I was like, 'Hey Baby, here's your diet coke' and then she was like, 'Oh my God, you think I'm fat!' and the next thing I knew, she was gone and I was covered in diet coke. That stuff is bad, by the way. Well, for no sugar it's okay, I guess, but you can't compare it to a regular-"

Viggo Rollig, one of the other guys in the room, shook his head. "Let me clue you in, amigo- you don't know chicks!"

Mac shrugged. "I know them better than Marty does."

"Shut up," muttered Marty under his breath.

Nate Logan shook his head. "Don't worry, Mart; no one knows chicks. I mean, there was this one time when Elise and I were an item-"

"Oh!" exclaimed Psymon Stark, jumping out of his chair, "I know this one! She broke up with you because you referred to the 'special and indispensable bond' and the 'intimate, tender relationship' as an item!"

Yet another guy, Eddie Wachowski, frowned. "No, that can't be it."

"Actually," Nate sighed, "Yeah."

"Been there," agreed Mac as he slumped onto the couch between Moby and Viggo. Actually, he hadn't been there, but he'd seen it on TV.

Brodi Case took the opportunity to stand up (well, as best he could, considering he'd just downed his fourth can of beer). "Kaori dumped me because I left the toilet seat up."

The boys took this cue without considerable difficulty, responding with a course of "Oh!", "Boo!", "Ow!", and "Ooooh…"

Next up was JP Arsenault. "I wore an orange shirt with turquoise pants, and Seeiah dumped me!"

More exclamations. Mac, however, shook his head. "She didn't dump you. You dumped her because she shaved her head!"

"Yeah, well," snarled JP, "I'm with Marisol now! Ha!"

"Ooooooooooh!"

All eyes were on Mac now. Frankly, he was quite glad none of the guys were gay… as far as he knew, anyway. But he had the perfect comeback.

"Yeah, there's something I've been meaning to give you," he replied, "I mean, you're her new boyfriend, you're the only one who has the right to them."

He pulled himself off the couch and back to the counter. A slight smile playing on his face, he opened the top drawer, pulled out a small package, and tossed it to JP.

Marisol's unfortunate new victim stared at the box in disbelief. "Earplugs!"

Mac nodded. "Extra strength. Also, after you wear them a few times, they customize themselves to fit your ears."

"Allegra dumped me because I didn't want to exercise with her," growled the fat lug Luther Dwayne Grady, bringing them back to the topic of how annoying girls were.

Hiro Karamatsu raised an eyebrow. "She was your personal trainer!"

"Yeah, at least he had that much," moaned Marty, "Zoe won't even look at me!"

"It's because you look like Mac," answered JP.

"Take that back!" yelled both Mac and Marty in unison.

Jurgen Angermann, the only one over thirty there, laughed. "Oh, looky here, boys- double trouble!"

"Well, whatever!" Mac snapped as he ran to the center of the room and stepped onto the coffee table, "We're at war here!"

Psymon's eyes drooped. "Yeah, a snowball war. Can we get some explosives now, pleeeeease? Just some lousy fireworks, even smoke bombs, stink bombs…"

Mac bit his lip. "If you wanna raid Griff's room, do it on your own time. Anyway, those chicks are the enemy- Allegra, Elise, Zoe, Kaori, Seeiah, Marisol. And I hate to say it, JP, but I gotta propose a new rule."

"And what's that?" inquired Viggo, taking a sip of beer.

Mac grinned. "No dating the enemy."

"Yeah!" roared the majority.

"No!" gasped JP.

"We can't be perfect!" shouted Moby, standing up.

"They don't want imperfect!" agreed Nate, also standing.

Viggo got up and exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, "You think I'm fat!"

Marty flipped his hair and scowled. "Were you looking at her?"

Brodi examined his fingernails, then looked Mac over. "Those clothes clash!"

Eddie pressed his hands to his face in mock-outrage. "Item? You think we're an item!"

"We're through! Get out! I never want to see you again!"

Psymon jumped to his feet. "I like bombs!"

Everyone was so used to this by now that they managed to ignore it.

"Girls have cookies!" shouted Luther.

The rest of them stared at him.

"Cookies?" repeated Marty.

"If you can call those low-fat pieces of crap 'cookies', then yeah," Moby sneered.

"Luther," addressed Mac, "You're very drunk; but I know what you mean. Allow me to translate, and to shout your wisdom to the world. GIRLS HAVE COOTIES!"

If any guys weren't standing, they were now. "HELL YEAAAAAAAAAAH!"

And so it was that every guy on the SSX circuit- with the exception of JP, who no one really liked that much anyway- commenced in a Congo line around Mac and Marty's room, moving to the chant of "Gir-irls have cooTIES! Gir-irls have cooTIES!"

JP left.

oOoOoOo

"I HATE MAC!" screamed Marisol Diez Diegado.

"WE KNOW!" belted back the room's five other female occupants. They were all hanging out and, needless to say, there were quite a few empty cans of beer lying around.

"She's got a point, though," admitted Allegra Sauvegess grudgingly, "Mac's a jerk. He whistles at me whenever I pass him on the slopes, and then I lose concentration and he gets ahead again."

"They all are," agreed Zoe Payne, "Did I ever tell you about the time I went out with Moby? He spent the whole evening talking to my breasts! I doubt he even knows my hair color."

Elise Riggs shook her head. "Zo- we don't even know your hair color."

Scowling, Zoe chucked a nearby pillow at her, but she'd had a bit too much to drink, so it ended up hitting Marisol instead. No one complained.

"Anyway," Elise continued, "You know how Nate and I were in that intimate, tender relationship and had that special, indispensable bond? Well, I heard him telling Marty and Viggo that we were an item!"

"He didn't!" gasped Kaori Nishidake, "That's a new low, even for him! That's even worse than when Brodi duct-taped the toilet seat up."

Marisol shook her head. "Men! Mac was the biggest mistake of my life- I'm just glad I have JP now."

"Oh, he's bad," insisted Seeiah Owens, "He broke up with me because I shaved my head. So shallow- I mean, it was for cancer research!"

"I know," Kaori sighed, "What kind of jerk does that to a girl who's selfless enough to shave her head for cancer?"

"Guys don't want selfless," muttered Allegra bitterly, "They don't want kind, sweet, generous, etcetera. All they care about is hot bodies."

Elise nodded in agreement. "Believe me, sometimes I wish I wasn't so hot. When you're hot, they expect you to put out."

Zoe shook her head. "Outrageous. Men are such idiots!"

Seeiah nodded. "And now they started that snowball war with us. How low can they go?"

"Quite," Allegra answered, "Anyway, here's what I'm thinking. Mac, Viggo, Marty, Moby, Nate, JP, Psymon, Brodi, Eddie, Hiro, Jurgen, Luther… no date pact. None of us date any of them."

"Yeah!" roared the majority.

"No!" gasped Marisol.

"Oh, come on!" urged Zoe.

Knowing it was useless to urge Marisol that way, Allegra headed toward her and grinned like any horny guy would. "Hey, Marisol, baby," she slurred in the best New York accent she could do, "Here's your diet coke. You gotta drop a size; I like 'em model thin."

Even Marisol was laughing (although it could've been just the alcohol).

"Great Mac impression!" exclaimed Kaori, "I've always wondered if Mac's accent is real or fake, actually. Anyone know?"

They all shook their heads.

Marisol turned to Elise. "See, this is great, honey! We're a real item!"

In turn, Elise started to stare at Zoe's chest. "So, what do you want to order, doll?" she began in a British accent, "I think I'll have some tea, with two heaving lumps of sugar. And they better be sweet, love."

"Seeiah, honey," muttered Zoe as she took her turn, "I'm sorry, but I need a chick with some hair on her head. You're the sweetest, most caring person in the world, but I don't need that. I need someone with hot hair and a hot body."

"Hey!" exclaimed Marisol, "He's not like that!"

Facing Kaori, Seeiah smiled. "Hey, angel face! I fixed the toilet! Now the seat won't get in the way anymore!"

Kaori rolled her eyes. "Boys have cooties!"

The girls all leapt to their feet. "Yeah!"

And so it was that every girl on the SSX circuit- with the exception of Marisol, who no one really liked that much anyway- commenced in a Congo line around Allegra and Elise's room, moving to the chant of "Boy-oy-oys have cooTIES! Boy-oy-oys have cooTIES!"

Marisol left.

oOoOoOo

There were only two people staying at the lodge who weren't cool enough to be invited to either room number thirteen of Mac and Marty or room number twenty-three of Allegra and Elise. One of them was Psymon's roommate, Griff Simmons. Griff was twelve years old, and it was way past his bedtime; he was a growing boy, and needed his sleep. Needless to say, Psymon wanted to know who chose the roommates.

The other one was Eddie's roommate, and he was old enough to stay up as late as he wanted; in fact, he was even older than Jurgen. His name was Atomika, and he was the local DJ. No one knew how old he was or what his last name was- all they knew was that he was crazy.

But I'm not crazy, Atomika thought to himself as he took a book from his shelf, They don't know what they're talking about. As a matter of fact, my mommy says I'm very special.

He beamed at the book cover. Even though it was only about three years old, it was tattered from being read countless times over and over again. Yes… Global Catastrophe: Preparing for the World's End by Dr. Pierre A. Noydd. This book was his savior- if he had never read it, he would have never thought to make sure there was a spacious network of tunnels and caverns equipped with a substantial supply of essential goods hollowed out beneath the three peaks of Big Mountain.

Smiling, Atomika hugged the book, as he did every night, placed it back on the shelf, and climbed into his bed. Oh yes… he was prepared for the end of the world.

A/N: Yeah, that was… odd. Oh well. A little oddness never hurt anyone. Sorry there's not much of a plot yet, but there will be, I promise. Thanks for reading, and please review.