Author's Note: I'm baaaaaaack.
I actually started this and another story just after I finished Demonology, just never got around to finishing it. But lately I've been having an ongoing conversation with Groudon202 Hopper about his PPG fic, and I figured it was time to dust this off and finish it. It's a plotted anthology type deal, I have the next two and a half chapters typed out, a fairly solid concept of the ending, and a shaky plan for the middle. We'll just have to see how this goes.
Fair warning though, there will be no romance. May as well get that settled off the bat, as there's no point in having folks wait around for a payoff that isn't coming. I am, in my heart of hearts, a gen fic writer. I doubt this story takes place in the same universe as Demonology, although that's subject to change.
I'm going to see if I can't pull off another schedule with this: I'm going to aim for a once-a-week update, but I make no promises. All right, enough prattle, let's do this!
New York.
Tokyo.
Gotham.
Saint Canard.
Townsville.
There are cities across the world that seem to attract certain kinds of people. Like moths to a light, villains flock to and are born from these places, where subsequent conflicts erupt from their arrival. An increase in thefts, murders, and crimes of peculiar natures swamp the cities almost overnight.
But, even, as the cities seem to call the dregs of the world to them, the same siren's song, or perhaps one created by the miscreants themselves, calls to the city a hero or two. Or three.
This phenomenon has so far gone unstudied. Why, and how, certain cities seem to attract certain kinds of people, is completely and utterly unexplored and unexplained. Is it the psyche of the average citizen that draws them? Is it coincidence? Or is it something engrained in the very land these cities occupy?
Blossom hadn't gotten very far on her new book. As it was, there was very little reference material and would require a great deal of fieldwork and personal research. Her first step had been to visit the library and look up "The City of Townsville- A History". Unfortunately, the book was terribly disorganized and, she suspected, misinformed- it had been written by none other than Mayor Mayor himself.
This had led her to the office of said Mayor. Actually, she came here nearly every day, whether it be for crime-fighting or work- but today was her day off, and Townsville was-for once- in a state of peace.
"So, Mr. Mayor," Blossom said brightly, snapping on a tape recorder and facing the (supposedly) most powerful man in Townsville, "What do you know about the History of Townsville?"
"Oh, I know quite a bit." The Mayor replied cheerfully. "I wrote a whole book on it you know."
"Um, yes, I know, but actually, your book made no sense. I highly doubt that the 'Picklesaurus'-"
"Cucumbrus Vinigrus." The Mayor corrected.
"That the "Cucumbrus Vinigrus" was the first inhabitant and founding father of Townsville."
"Well, I felt the truth was a little boring so I spiced it up a bit."
"Uh-huh. Mayor, could you tell me a little about the real history of Townsville?"
"Why would I know the real history of Townsville?"
"Well, you felt it was boring and 'spiced it up'. That shows you know something."
"I do?"
"Do you?" Blossom replied patiently.
The Mayor thought about it. "I do!" he said triumphantly.
The captain of The Junebug surveyed his surroundings and breathed in the mighty air of the New, New World. Sure, it wasn't exactly where they had originally intended to wind up, and they'd got turned around a few times... and they'd had to pull over and ask directions from a scaly green chap who didn't speak English. Or Polish, or German, but instead a rather curious form of gibberish which their local idiot, Citizen Mayor, had kindly translated for them. Of course, they were still uncertain whether the creature said "The land you are looking for is that way" or "Don't go that way, for it is populated by hairy beasts and a most unspeakable horror that will lead to your total demise."
They'd decided the first translation was correct, and sailed off.
Battling storms and rains, winds and weather, they had fought their way across the sea until a great and powerful storm deposited them neatly two miles beyond the shoreline (providing, of course, that you accepted shattered and splintered wood scattered across two square acres of forest a neat depositing.). They were wet, they were cold, and they were living in the hollow remains of their vessel (a pitiful ten by one-and-one-fourth foot of leftover debris they'd piled into something of a leaky hut), which really wasn't much anymore since someone had "befriended" a few termites with a penchant for caffeine. They had no food (it turned out termites didn't just eat wood.), and far too much water, but they bravely faced this new world unperturbed and undefeated, and in it for the long haul.
"I say," one brave and sturdy pioneer began, "that we pack up, build a new boat, and call it quits."
There were a few whole-hearted murmurs in agreement. The Captain sighed and nodded in agreement. The only voice in opposition was that of Citizen Mayor.
"We can't leave now!" the tiny (and perpetually old looking) young man cried. "What about the termites? They'll starve!"
"Citizen," the Captain said patiently. "I'm fairly certain no one here gives a damn about your termites."
"Now, wait just a minute!" Citizen shouted above the hearty cheers to the Captain's last statement. Clambering atop a stump (which raised him about eye-level with everyone else's bellybutton.), the short, Benjamin Button of a man began waving his arms about him, as he passionately shouted "We came to this land to demand justice! To demand that we be allowed to live as we see fit, to not be killed and prosecuted for who and what we are, simply because that's who we are! We were strong enough to survive the seas, and by golly, we're strong enough to survive this! We can make this land a Utopia, where everyone is free to be who they really are!"
"Naow, ain't that the purdiest thing yew evah' did hear?" Came a thickly accented voice from behind him.
Citizen turned slowly, and found himself faced with a huge, pink beast,covered in poofy fur and topped with two dangly antennae. The little man stood dumbfounded for a moment, before screaming "MONSTER! KILL IT! KILL IT! KILL IT! MOOOOOONSTEEEEEEEEER!"
"Wait, you mean the Lumpkins were already here when the first pilgrims arrived?" Blossom interjected.
"Oh, yes. They've been here a long time, awful long time. They were all over the place. Why do you ask?"
"Well, do you know anything about their culture? What they did before humans arrived?"
"No, I don't think we ever asked."
Blossom filed away a mental note to quiz Fuzzy next. "So, what happened after that?"
"Oh, the usual." the Mayor shrugged. "A peaceful coexistence was constructed between the two peoples."
"You can't dig those up! This here's my property!"
"Prapitee?" The Lady-Lumpkin blinked. She then looked at the strawberries she had gathered into her reed basket. She pointed at them."Yew call these "prapitee-bearreez"?"
"I mean," the irate woodsman replied, "that this whole ground and everything that grows on it belongs to me."
The Lady-Lumpkin scratched her head. "'Ow'd it come ta be yers? 'Ow d'ya 'own' a buncha dirt 'n plants?"
"You just do!" The woodsman replied. "I've got a paper back home that says so!"
"Where'd the paper come from?"
"The governor!"
"And 'ow'd he get it?"
"Look, he just said it was mine, okay? That this piece o' ground here's mine, got it?"
The Lady-Lumpkin squinted her eyes, trying her best to understand the concept before her. "So... the gov'nah just said 'This here's yer land'? And it was yers?"
"Yes! Exactly. And I know what's mine and what's not mine, because he drew a line around it, on a map, see?"
"And this is all yers, just a'cause 'e said so?"
"Yes! Yes! Now you're getting it!"
The Lady Lumpkin pondered this for a moment, staring at her walking stick as she did so. She then calmly drew a large circle encompassing herself and the little berry patch. "Well, Ah say this 'ere berry patch is mine." she said firmly.
"No! No! No! No! No!" The woodsman stamped his foot. "I paid for my land! You can't just claim it now!"
The Lady-Lumpkin considered this new bit of information. "Do you accept payment in strawberries?"
