Most people think Time is like a river; that flows swift and sure in one direction. They are wrong. Sit down and I will tell you a tale like none that you have ever heard. Know, first, that I am the son of Dean Morgan Samms the Second, a mighty stock broker of London. As a lad I was promised honor, glory and utmost of all, a new ball in a cup. Oh, how I loved those as a child... but that is another story. I, Dean Morgan Samms the Third have recently turned 21 and yet, with my damn good looks, I am alone, so very alone. Perhaps it is my lifestyle that has cursed me to be lonely. As a child, I hunted supernatural phenomenon... ghosts, goblins, anything of that nature, sure enough at the age of nine I hunted my very first Potato.
Sure, you may look at me as if I were insane but trust me, I am not. Soon, I gave up hunting for modeling, I became a sexy shell of my former self but I was not happy, hunting was in my blood, as it were in my fathers and his before that. I soon gave up modeling and with the money I earned I purchased a car, but not just any car, it was a black 1965 Ford Mustang, trunk filled to the tee with rock salt and shotguns, from there on I vowed to do one thing and one thing only... rid the world of supernatural predators and bring back Buffy the Vampire slayer... but not Angel... never Angel...
Dean Morgan Samms the Third placed his pen upon the paper of his black, leather-bound journal, placing that journal next to his computer, a Macintosh OSX. An autobiography chronicling his life, was this the way to go? Was this how he must get his name out there? Dean closed the book and stood, his furry white bathrobe fluttering around him. He sighed. The bachelor life sucked, to be quite honest. He glanced around room 302, his apartment on London Heights. "Nothing more than empty cages…" He sighed, trotting into the kitchen. He reached into his cupboard and revealed the only tea cup in his possession.
"There is only one thing that can cheer me up now..." Dean mumbled, placing a stainless steel kettle upon his stove, "And that's a cup of tea stirred to perfection." He sat at the kitchen table and flipped up today's newspaper. A heading in bold letters read 'Bill Gates readies project Blackcomb' and in smaller; but still noticeable font it read; 'A step in the wrong direction'. "Oh dear," Dean sighed. "Will we ever go too far?"
Dean finished his tea and tossed the cup into the sink. The newspaper's heading still hung over him like a dark and dreary cloud. "Project Blackcomb... Blackcomb... Is that a new type of styling comb?" Dean asked himself. He could only hope, for his beautiful head of hair was filled with split ends.
The trip to the library was a long one. Dean's black 1965 Ford Mustang had broken down twice and he eventually discarded it into a ditch and decided to walk. The butt of his Twelve Gauge Shotgun protruded from his backpack and the smell of salt lingered in the air as Dean tip-toed past the public library guard.
The guard was asleep.
Dean plopped down behind a pile of hardcover books, each entitled something different but all related to the name Bill Gates. Dean thumbed through the first hardcover and tossed it to one side with no prevail. He scanned the second book, looking for traces of the word 'Blackcomb'. The third book held the key; he skimmed through, his eyes falling upon the terrifying words that he had seen once to many times before.
"Success in the release of the new Operating System." Dean's eyes darted around, sweat appearing at the brow. He continued; "With the release of the new Window's Vista, Bill Gates has announced an upcoming release of Windows Blackcomb, which will bring the world to a whole new technical level."
Dean gasped and dropped the book.
The librarian Sssshhh'd him and somewhere the sleeping guard fell off his chair.
"I do not believe it!" Dean hissed, "Bill Gates is releasing yet another Operating System! With the recent release of Windows Vista, Blackcomb will slow the world to a blatant stop with its 'bloatware' and flash! It will be like a fat man running down the street during a hot London day in July! Oh dear god, it will be horrible! Horrible!!" Dean jumped to his feet, scattering the books like a flock of turkeys caught in a tornado.
The librarian Sssshhh'd him yet again, a stern look stretching across her old and haggish face.
"Out of my way! Decrepit Naive!" Dean spat, pushing the old lady into a trolley. "I have a world to save!" Dean burst out of the front doors and found himself on the busy highway without a car. He looked left, then right, and then left again. He brought his thumb and index finger to his lips and blew, creating a high pitch whistle. In the distance, Dean heard it. The sound of a fuel injected turbo engine roaring to life.
The Mustang tore down the highway, dodging in and out of traffic like a ballerina. Dean stood, appalled at it's footwork as the car halted in front of him.
"All aboard," The car replied in a female mechanical voice.
"You are late." Dean replied, stereotypically.
Bill Gate's headquarters was large, larger then large; enormous to say the least. Dean parked his car and cocked his shotgun. "Blackcomb cannot see the light of day." Dean hissed, never questioning the fact that the Headquarters for Microsoft was somehow located in London. Dean threw his pack unto his shoulder. He had recently read up on the specs of Blackcomb and had come across a mistake in a piece of coding which could cause a rift in the space-time continuum and send the world into a constant down spiral. Dean walked towards the towering building, equipped with cameras and teleport stones. Dean paused and looked to his loafers. "What am I doing..." He sighed. "This is not something supernatural... I should not be here... no I should be... I must stop the release..."
The front doors chimed as they slide open with the approach of Dean Samms. He smiled, it seemed wherever he went, doors always opened for him. Dean paused and aimed his shotgun into the darkness of the lobby. "Hello?" Anybody there?" The lobby was quiet and then, all of a sudden, the hunter was showered with light.
"Welcome to Microsoft, where would you like to go today?"
"Who goes there!?" Dean spat.
"I must repeat: Where would you like to go today?" The voice was cold and mechanical.
"I do not unders-"
"Where would you like to go today?"
"Blasphemy! I would like to meet with Sir Bill Gates!"
"Confirmed, please step into the elevator."
"Thank you." Dean replied, now noticing the voice was coming from an overhead speaker. Dean stepped into the stainless-steel elevator as is rocketed towards the sky. He readied his gun once again as the elevator slowed to a stop. He felt like Charlie from Charlie and the chocolate factory... oh how he loved that movie. He sighed, hoping to someday own it on DVD. Dean gagged as the steel doors slid open, he was greeted with the smell of beef jerky, cigars and body odor, inside a young man sat behind a large desk, chewing on a piece of jerky.
"Welcome to my headquarters," the man announced, "I am Bill Gates, the proud owner of Microsoft."
"Sir Bill Gates!" Dean announced. "It is I, Dean Morgan Samms the Third. I have come to warn you about the upcoming release of Blackcomb! You must reconsider..."
"Reconsider!? Hardly! This will be a technological breakthrough! Blackcomb is the way of the future!"
"No Mister Gates! The bloatware! The flash! It will be too much!"
"Nonsense! My computers have been rigged with a special code that will disperse resources--"
"Mister Gates! That code is what will destroy us all!"
"And who are you to make such assumptions!" Bill Gates was now at his feet.
"I told you, I am Dean Samms the Third, a model from-"
"A model! Oh lovely. And what makes you think you understand the inner workings of my machine!?"
"I know I am right! You must listen!" Dean was now clutching his shotgun with white knuckles. Oh, how he wished he was at home watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with his childhood teddy bear, 'Mr. Bear'.
"Let me show you, my creation." Gates replied, slamming a balled up fist onto a red button protruding from his desk. Dean gasped as a jet black; stealth model computer took rise from a compartment in the floor. Gates stepped forward and was greeted by a voice, much like the one Dean heard in the lobby.
"Hello Mister Gates, What would you like to do today?"
"Initiate!" Gates replied.
"Nooooooooooooooo!" Dean lunged forward; pushing Gates to the floor, each camera positioned within the office turned their attention towards the struggle. "What are you doing!? You shall kill us all!"
"It's too late, Dean."
"What..."
The sound of Windows starting up rang through the room like a bad omen.
"No!" Dean cried, jumping to his feet. The office began to shake as Blackcomb began to glow in a blue aura.
"System Overload. System Overload. Error! Error! Now downloading... 3"
"What is it doing!"
Bill gates looked appalled. "I don't know! This isn't supposed to happen!"
"15"
Dean lunged forward, slamming his fingers down upon the ALT+CTRL+DEL keys, he read the report of the download and stumbled back with fear. "By the gods... It is downloading every internet phenomenon known to man... and some only known to cats..."
"What!" Gates was on his feet, "That's impossible!"
"No... nothing is impossible..."
"35..."
"What have I done?" Gates cried.
"I tried to warn-"
A blue tentacle of electricity burst from the screen's aura and wrapped it's self around Gates. He screamed, struggling against his creation. Dean snatched his shotgun off the floor and aimed... aimed... he became dizzy and panicked... Bill Gates was still alive in there... if he shot now he'd be a murderer. The gun clattered to the ground.
Gates fell along with the gun, groaning in pain. He shot a terror-filled look towards Dean, who stepped back, stricken with fear and nausea. Half of Bill Gates face had been replaced by metal and he now wore a black hood with frazzled hair. "How are you Dean?" He asked; his voice rough and guilt-stricken.
"I am fine... got a few split ends but I think I can-"
"Silence!"
"Mister Gates..."
"Cats..."
"Sir?"
"My name is Cats! A name that'll haunt your forever!"
"Mister Cats?"
"I said silence! All your base are belong to us!"
"Huh?" Dean asked, suddenly confused. The room was filling up with a light haze as sparks of electricity buzzed and crackled from all around Cats. Dean glanced to the exit, the elevator was shut tight, showing no means of escape, "Damn!" Dean cried, snatching up his shotgun once again. "I will not let you leave this facility alive!"
"Oh; really?"
"Yes; really!" Dean spat, aiming the gun. "You are no longer the man I once knew!"
"How sad," Cats replied, lurching forward.
Dean rolled to one side, firing his shotgun in the process and shattering Blackcomb's monitor into a thousand little bits. Cats screeched and took a swing at Dean, only to strike Blackcomb; he fell back, almost as if he were hurt. He heard a sound; Dean had cocked his gun and was aiming at his head.
"You can't shoot me, Dean." Cats exclaimed.
"You have gone too far," Dean replied, pulling the trigger.
Cats exploded into many particles, the limp body of Bill Gates crashed into the steel elevator doors and the room fell quiet. Dean was breathing heavily; he let his gun fall limp to his side. "It did not have to be like this... never like this..." He looked around the room; the cameras were still staring in awe. Where were the security guards? Why weren't they busting in to capture his sexy ass? And more importantly... where was Mister Bear? Dean turned to leave, only to come face to face with Blackcomb. Its monitor was fried but the lights upon the jet black tower continued to blink. The download continued without Dean's knowledge.
79... 85... 99...
Blackcomb beeped with success. "Download complete."
Dean gasped, raising his gun by instinct and fired but it was too late. Blackcomb was now surrounded with an aura so evil not even Dean Morgan Samms could stop it. He backed up, feeling the cold pane of office glass behind him. There was no escape.
"Why does this always have to happen to me?" Dean whined. He spun, looking out of the window. It was a long way down but Dean did not care in the least. Well, maybe a little… Okay, a lot. But anything was better then being here... with It. Dean tightened the straps on his backpack and closed his eyes. He launched forward, crashing through the window in an explosion of glory.
"Oh! Wondrous glory! How I missed you!" Dean was crying as he sped towards the pavement beneath. "Oh... wait. How is Dean Morgan Samms going to get out of this one?" Dean reached for his backpack, a drawstring was exposed. "Nothing can happen to Dean Samms, do you know why!? Because I AM the leading man! Oh yes! You heard me world! I am the leading man!" Dean pulled the string, a parachute exploded from his backpack only to become tangled upon a flagpole. "Oh dear, Dean Samms..." The parachute ripped and he fell... oh how he fell.
Dean landed with a thud in front of a sign that read 'Parking Garage'.
"Perfect!" Dean exclaimed, regretting the fact that he left his Mustang idling at the front entrance...
Meanwhile...
A bobby walked towards the black, 1965 mustang. He stared in disbelief as he noticed that the car was double parked in a fire lane. He sighed, writing up a ticket. The first of many that would go down on Dean Samms' police records...
And so...
Dean stood and brushed himself off. "There's no time for dilly-dallying! Without 'Cats' intact, I am afraid this headquarters will not sustain," and with those words the building around him began to shake and crumble. "Time to make my grand escape!" he cried, rushing within the parking garage, and allowed his magnificent eyes fell upon a wonder of wonders... "My god... It is full of cars..."
It truly was full of cars. And trucks, and hummers, and light cycles, and a bunny on a motorcycle, who was she? And why was she there...
Dean leapt within the nearest mode of transportation, which just so happened to be perfect for him in every way. A DeLorean, although he never quite understood what the strange blender contraption on the back marked 'Mr. Fusion' was supposed to mean, he only could assume it was a relative of Mr. Bear.
Then, it happened.
"I live! RUN RUN RUN... I HUNGER... RHAAAAAAAAARGH!"
Dean spun, only to see what was left of Cats stumble towards him. "Madness! Cats has found me! I must make haste!" he cried, turning the key within the ignition. Dean spotted Cats in the side-mirror, leaping within the nearest vehicle to him... the Oscar Meyer Weiner Wagon. "The wiener, it comes!" Dean squealed, slamming his loafer down upon the accelerator.
Dean had forgotten the plutonium...
Alas, down the highway they drove, Dean drove in front, taking the lead and propelling between the cars in his path. Cats followed closely, plowing in and out of traffic. Cats looked hungry; it didn't help any that Dean had went through a McDonald's drive through.
"Yeaaa... can I also get a large soda and a side of fries please?"
"That'll be $7.95 please," replied a muffled, pimply-faced teenager.
"Excuse me, Naive!?" Dean replied, quite appalled. "Do you know who I am? Dean Morgan Samms the Third does not pay '$7.95' for food that is quick on the uptake!"
"That'll be $7.95... please..." The teenager replied, sounding even more 'angsty' then before.
"Filthy naive! Do not angst at me!" Dean glanced into the side mirror of the DeLorean and sighed. "I do not have time for such nonsense!" Dean slammed his loafer upon the accelerator once again, snatching a bag of fries from the open drive through window as he went. He snickered, enjoying his spoils much to the pimply-faced naive's expense.
And thus Dean Samms was never allowed to enter a McDonald's ever again.
Dean hit the highway just as McDonald's went up in flames; oh how sad it was that teenager's didn't know how to put out grease fires. The DeLorean's tires squealed as the Weiner Mobile came upon him. "Go around! Go around!" Dean whined as Cats attempted to edge him off the road.
"You cannot drive forever Sammich!"
"Do not call me that!" Dean shot back, swerving the car onto a dirt road, not realizing where it would lead.
The village was small, to say the least. The villagers were not happy to see the DeLorean storm through like some unwanted tornado in a trailer park, but Dean Samms did not care. His foot felt heavy upon the gas pedal and Cats and his Weiner were still after him. Dean was sick of running, sick of being chicken.
It was time to play chicken.
Dean slammed on the breaks, the tires coming to a stop upon a local farmer with a pitchfork. Dean pushed the car into reverse and snuck into an ally between two red barns; behind him a John Deere had his back.
Dean waited, revving his engine.
The Weiner was looming now, coming ever closer. It paused, the engine revved. Cats was grinning. "As I said, you cannot drive forever," he began to cackle, "Especially with these gas prices. Thank me for that as well! Muahahahahaha!" Cats slammed down on the gas peddle, launching towards Dean.
Dean cringed, slamming down on his accelerator as well. The two cars launched towards each other. Dean kept an eye on his speedometer... 34mph...45mph...65mph... 78mph... 88mph... Dean screamed as the two cars were about to connect but as if it were an illusion, the two cars simply passed through each other. The DeLorean's breaks locked and the car swung a full 360 degrees to face its opponent... which sadly had erupted into a ball of flames against the heavy John Deere.
As cries faded into the day, Dean could have sworn he heard, "Curse you John Deeeeeeeeere!"
Dean opened the gull-wing door and stepped out, taking a look at his digital sundial watch. Had he traveled through time ever so slightly to avoid the inevitable collision? Dean smiled; he was given a second chance. He had cheated Death.
The model turned to face the long walk home but then realized... "The internet phenomenon... I have to stop-"
Dean looked to the horizon where the Microsoft Headquarters exploded in a ball of silicon and disgrace, Dean spotted them... little specks running and flying for their lives. The internet phenomenon had been released. Dean looked to the sky. "Is this what you want, Kali? So be it." He cocked his shotgun, "Beware you internet naives... Dean Samms is coming for you next."
Dean spun on his heel and stepped into the village square. The villagers had all stopped what they were doing and were now staring directly at the London Model. One of them revved up their chainsaw. Dean nodded, expecting a thank you or an 'I love you Deanny'.
The latter of the few always sufficed.
Instead, a villager with a long grey beard stepped forward and held his pitchfork high. "He looks diff'nt, lez geddem!"
"Huh!?" Dean gasped. "But I..."
"He ran ova mah co'zin Billeh!"
"I guess I shall be leaving now." Dean said squeamishly as he dropped his gun and ran towards the smoking horizon; it wasn't long until the entire village of peasants was bearing down on that cute little butt of his. Dean slowed to a stop next to the smoldering ruins of McDonald's. A single sizzling headset lay cast out and forgotten on the burnt ground. He had lost the mob for now; he began to walk, limping ever so softly for dramatic purposes. The day was old; he stopped, removing his pack from his back dropping it to his feet. Inside, his journal lay safely, bound tightly by a piece of string. He opened it and sat upon the curve; he revealed a pen and thus he began to write his story.
It wasn't long after I vowed to bring back Buffy did I realize my ultimate purpose. I had saved the world from ultimate disaster, only to leave it exposed to the annoyance that mankind worked so hard to keep locked away. With the death of Bill Gates, and ultimately, 'Cats', the release of the Internet phenomenon was inevitable. I now understand that I must now hunt them down and put them in their rightful places. Beware Hail Nekoyasha, Beware damn O RLY owl, some day I will come for you... I promise..
END OF CHAPTER ONE