Authoress Update: Well, ok! The masses have spoken! And apparently, you all want more! Shocking!
So, here is (hopefully) the last of our angsty chapters. In theory, the next chapters should lean towards the action category.
Authoress Rant on the Show Itself (SPOILER!): What exactly are the continuity people smoking? If you saw 'Mallory Mastermind (or whatever), at the end they show our crew lounging on the beach in casual gear. In pre-meteor colors! Now, that would have been fine and dandy if, when poor Rev stopped pedaling, it faded away like the beach hologram. You can't convince me they are all wearing colored plastic from head to toe! Get real! What do they need their regular colors for anyway? According to the show so far, they are the only anthropomorphic beings on Acmetropolis! They're gonna need more than a pair of thick glasses to hide in this town! Man, every time u think there's gonna be a little tiny bit of char development, they ruin it.
Yakko: "I'm Yakko!"
Wakko: "I'm Wakko!"
Dot: "And I'm…Hey wait! Didn't we already do this bit?"
Yakko: "What? You never heard of syndication?"
Wakko: "Hey guys! Does anyone else smell pancakes?"
….
A.S.D.A
The Future Is Wild!
By Nefertanya dragongurl Ahhotep
Chapter 7: No Rhyme or ReasonBack in the fractured city of Borasilica, five minutes after the explosion, Rev Runner was experiencing a brand-new sensation– Nausea. Roadrunners aren't built for vomiting. Their stomachs are built small so that if it became necessary to run from danger (which was quite often), the stomach contents wouldn't weigh them down more than necessary. Runners ate lots, but little. Regurgitation was possible only during the short time frame between a chick's hatching and its final control of its tiny, spindly leg muscles. And even that used a specialized section of the esophagus, not the stomach.
However, as new to the experience as Rev was, he was quick to recognize this was not the best way to spend an afternoon. His wing-arms scrunching his shirt, his eyes clamped shut, breathing labored and knees clenched together, Rev felt his stomach flip a few more times before agreeing to an uneasy truce with his brain. Slowly (for him), his torso muscles relaxed and he opened his eyes. His mind was racing, as was his heart. And it was hard to slow his breathing down to what he was used to. And was it his imagination, or were his feathers red? Really, really, really, red?
Before he could gather his thoughts, a deep rumbling crawled up the broken asphalt and up his long, thin legs like a fuzzy caterpillar. A woman's cry-"LOOK OUT!" caught his attention and made him turn his head nearly all the way around1 towards her high-pitched screams.
Damaged beyond repair from all the seismic activity, one of the tall, whitewashed buildings was collapsing. It fell down on itself, floor by floor, each reduction in size growing louder and louder. Boom! BOOM! BOOM!
From far, far away, it would have appeared to be just so much dust showering down, and relatively harmless. But for those poor souls caught underneath, it was indescribable horror. The thick, choking dust was exhumed with each floor's last breath. Chunks of debris rained down on the unsuspecting, cloaked in a darkness more terrifying than midnight on Halloween in Jason's swamps. The only light was the occasional fireburst as some chemical mixed with the shorting electricity or the broken Bunsen burners. And then the dust cloud then spread out towards the edges of Borasilica, to engulf the frightened populace.
All around Rev, people ran for their lives, screaming, weeping, and coughing. For several moments, the young runner was too dumbfounded to move as the demon-cloud threatened to claim him too. It looked evil. Always the imaginative one, he envisioned a gaping mouth and piggy eyes smirking hungrily at him, could just hear the deep, rumbling laughter echoing from within. Just then, some ancient survival instinct kicked his brain- "Move, Dummy!"
Shaking his head a little, he turned and tore off, focused only on the mantra that screamed in his head-Run! Run! Quickly, the adrenaline high diminished, and he faltered, praying that he'd gotten away from the worst of it. Sitting on the still-warm desert sun, Rev shifted towards the city—
--Which was now a tiny blip on the horizon? No way. Rev rubbed his eyes hard, blinked several times, and looked again. NO WAY!
"Howtheheckdidthathappen?" He whispered. He pulled a funny face. "Whatthe-Whattheheck'shappenedtomyvoice? AndhowdidImanage-
togetallthewayouthere?"
Dropping his head, he realized he'd been right earlier-his feathers, this morning a beautiful azure blue, were now the scarlet red of youth2. "Suck!" He wailed unhappily. He'd never had a real social life before, but now he'd never get a date! Not if everyone thought he was just a really tall fledgling! A crystalline tear sneaked down his cheek as he allowed himself to wallow in self-pity for the moment. Then a thought struck him.
"HeyIwonderwhathappenedtoallthosepeople?"
Should he go back? Could he go back? After all, he was still unsure how he even managed to get this far! Had he somehow triggered one of the students' experiments? Or…was it all him? Nervously, he stretched out into a basic runner's start position and conjured up a screaming crowd, a taciturn referee with his gun drawn and stopwatch ready, and to his right, the famous 'Purple Bullet'.
The referee cried "Go!" and shot off a flare. Rev took off once more, but this time he was tuned in to his body. There was a difference. Oh yes, there most definitely was. The scenery blurred into little streaks of color-it was impossible to define a single thing, at any rate he would be way past it by the time his mind could wonder. It was a lot like running blindfolded. But somehow, he knew exactly where he was. Something deeper than instinct was guiding him, keeping him safe from the rocks, canyons, and debris that would cause him grievous harm.
By counting his heart beats and comparing them to each stride, he figured he was running a three day drive in fifteen minutes! His inhalations had become deeper and longer. He was drawing in much more oxygen than normal. That explained why his muscles weren't screaming yet.
He loved it. By O'kulumbo's beard, he loved it! Every runner was born, the legends said, to chase the wind3. Never before had a runner actually caught it. But today, Rev knew that he had done the impossible. He had surpassed his ancestor! Stretching his stride a little wider, he giggled and reveled in the feel of his feathers in the air stream.
But of course, to run this fast means you can only get to the end that much sooner. And lo, here he was, at the edge of the city he once called home. Dust still permeated the air, making visibility difficult. Moans of pain weaved through it like ghosts, issued from the poor souls who could never have been fast enough. At once, the young runner felt ashamed. Here he was, exulting in his newfound speed, and all these poor people were fighting for their lives. He'd left them behind.
"It's not your fault!" that little voice protested. "You were just trying to escape! They never thought about you! They were trying to save themselves! It's the natural way of things!" Deep down, his heart disagreed. "There are good people as well as bad. It's not your job to judge them all, nor forsake them all." The voice, he noted, sounded an awful lot like his mother.
Spying a group of officers, he zipped over to them. "Excusemesirs, butisthereanytthingIcandotohelp? ImeanIknowCPRandwell, youseeI-somehowgotreallyfast! ImeanIknowroadrunnersarealwaysfastbut-I'mreallyreallyfastsoifthere'sanythingIcando, likegetsuppliesormay-bedeliveramessages? Yea! See, IusedtobeadeliveryboysoI'vegotallsortsofexperience-"
"How th'hell let this freak lose?" Growled a square-jawed commander.
"Never seen him before, sir!"
"Heythat'snotnice! I'mjusttryingtohelp! Imean, hello! I'mthefastest-thingontwolegs, I'llbet! Younedme, andIwannahelp!"
"Private! Get this thing over to one of the medical centers immediately and find out what the hell he's hopped up on!"
"Yes Sir! Right away, Sir!"
The private in question detached himself from the group and moved towards the young bird. Rev was flustered and infuriated-how dare they accuse him of being on drugs! Here he was, just trying to help out, and all they wanted for him to do was get out of his sight. It was just like always. It never changed. The taunts, the harassment. The idea that his kind had nothing but asphalt between their ears. Visions of being chased by biker gangs, of having his pay docked, and of mischief-minded students playing 'keep-away' with his possessions. His eyes glittered with rage, and the air seemed to grow malevolent around him. The soldier reached out to grab his arm….
"Catch. Me. If. You. Can." He hissed. The boy blinked, and then again. The red roadrunner was no longer to be seen.
Rev ran to the only place he could think of-home. It had been almost three years since he had last lived there, but in the light of everything that happened, it didn't seem to make a difference. The latest in the Road Runner's lineage lived in a 'natural' cave. Natural in this case meant that it at one time been a rock formation with a natural cave. Other rooms, windows, et al had been blasted in at a later time. Such formations were very rare-Rev and his family were very lucky to live in one that was beautiful as well as large. Most other runners in his neighborhood lived in adobe constructs. Yet another reason Rev had had a miserable childhood.
But this time was different. This time he was looking forward to seeing all those naysayers and give them 'what-for', just like he did with the soldiers. Within seconds, he bisected the town with a cloud of sand and stood in front of his own front door. It still looked solid. The rock had been there for thousands of years, and no little meteor was going to tell it do otherwise.
"Mom? Gear? OhLittleGee-ear!" Rev bounced around the cavernous rooms happily. How excited his little sister would be to see him, and to see him run so fast! She'd been heart-broken when he left. He'd promised he'd visit her lots, but there was never enough money. He'd call and feel his heart tear every time he had to tell her he'd miss another birthday, or track meet. His mother would always tell him that his room was still there, but he'd always refused angrily, saying he was happy where he was. But of course he wasn't. He missed the desert, missed his family, and missed the open air and warm sunshine everywhere. But now he could have the best of both worlds! He could work in the city, and then be home in time for supper and a story before bed! Rev considered his mother the finest storyteller alive, and he'd really missed her soft voice and the fervent belief she put into each and every myth and legend.
"Mom? Hello? Comeonthisisn'tfunnyanymore." A sick feeling was rising up from the pit of his stomach. That something, that same vibe that kept him safe on his journey here, was pulling him outside. But something felt oh-so-wrong about it.
" Mom? Momma? Gear? Areyououthere ?" He had switched from English to standard Beep, as if the change in language would somehow help shake the foreboding and they would just materialize in the creeping night.
. Tentatively, he crept out into the sandy expanse that was the backyard. Only naturalized plants were allowed here-Rev grew up in the only house in the Four Corners area that had never known a blade of grass. The cheap aluminum patio furniture was strewn about the cracked tile. The little grill pit still stood, smoldering briquettes waiting for marinated material to char. Rev smiled thinly as he recalled the time his tail feathers had gotten too close, and how baby Gear had beeped with delight as he had panicked.
Rev gingerly picked up one of the lightweight chairs-it toppled right back over. The umbrella was blown out, and the canvas was shredded in areas. With a shrug, he lifted a long leg over it and headed out for the sandy garden paths beyond. The ancient Saguaro was unrecognizable; it was in so many pieces. Rev remembered watching as tiny owls, and occasionally, Owls, raised noisy families year after year in its worn holes. The night birds knew there were few safer places, and so never heaved their pellets there (much to the neighbors' chagrin), and the Owls would occasionally leave an extra lizard for the fledglings4.
Carefully, he crept around the outcropping his mom had always called the mountain's 'foot'. It was getting late, and there was, by this time, very little light left. Behind this lay his mother's pride and joy-the rock garden. She maintained it zealously, almost religiously, prattling to the Live-Forever's ("they're very good at secret-keeping" she told him), and pointing out the best looking grubs and ants to her beloved chicks. And when they were full and completely bored, he and Gear would play tag in the zigzagging lanes of cobblestones.
He gasped at what he saw now. Rocks of varying sizes (mostly 'large') were lying about. "Theymusthavebeenknockedoffthetopwhentheseismicwaves fromthmeteorpassedover." . The Live-Forever's were crushed. It was too dark to see most of them, but the lanes close to him were damaged enough he could take an educated guess.
Rev felt sick again. His home had been hurt. An odd sentiment, to be sure, to feel sympathy for an inanimate place. But this was his home, and his mother's, and his grandparent's, and so forth for generations, maybe even since the Road Runner's time, and it was hard not to attach emotions to it. It was where he learned to walk, to run, his history, and more. He had left to prove he didn't need this place. But he could never stay away forever. He just wanted to learn what he was capable of. But maybe he was just being self-absorbed and stupid.
Rev shook his head in regret and turned to go back inside. No one was out here. A slight wind caressed his cheek gently-fondly? - And out of the corner of his eye, saw a flicker of movement. Eyes wide, he was next to it in a second.
"No……" Rev hiccupped as his knees weakened and gave way. "No…nonononononononono!"
His fists angrily pounded at the boulders as he sobbed uncontrollably. The night was starless, as thick black clouds of smoke and dust billowed like a cloak between him and them. On the horizon, red haze indicated burning homes and businesses. A few feet away, the last of the briquettes sputtered. As the last glowing ember slipped away, Rev Runner threw his tear-stained head back, and screamed.
--o0o--
Tech 'Egghead' Einstein Coyote, super-genius, groaned loudly as he returned to the waking world, opening bleary eyes to a fuzzy purple sky. His head was throbbing as he struggled into a seated position on the broken ground that was once a beautifully paved road. Closing his amber eyes again, he inhaled carefully and did a mental check of himself. No, nothing seemed to feel broken, and he felt no dampness that would indicate bleeding of any sort. Woozy, but that was to be expected if he had sustained a head injury. Rubbing his noggin gingerly exposed no sign of external damage.
Carefully, Tech hoisted himself onto his feet and brushed the dirt off his hands. It was quiet. Awfully quiet, especially when one considered that the permanent population of Borasilica alone numbered in the thousands. It was eerie. Tech looked around as he made his way carefully towards a dust-laden lump. He rather wished he hadn't decided against wearing shoes this particular morning5. Gently he bent over the lump and brushed some of the filth away. His long muzzle wrinkled at the mangled mess underneath. Now that he thought about it, he should've guessed from the smell…but then, he was a little disoriented still. Sadly, Tech shook his head. There was no one around him….alive, at least. Then he blinked and did a double take at his hands, holding them splayed before his face. The dull brown was now a soft green. Unusual, to say the least. Hell, it was downright freaky! Was he dreaming? Was his mind fracturing?
"Ok, let's review, shall we?" He took a deep breath, as if this was just another one of his tutoring classes. "My name is Tech E. Coyote. I am twenty-four years old, the only son of Nascha and the late Dr. Anoki Coyote. I am a grad student at the University at Four Corners-"
He smirked wryly before continuing. "Check that. I was a student at the University at Four Corners. My latest experiment's…premature demise caused my expulsion from said institution. I was walking along this street when a large atmospheric phenomenon passed overhead. The result of which was massive seismic, atmospheric, and meteorological activity."
As he began talking, he began to pace. As he continued to fit the missing pieces together, his feet turned him to the 'obvious' destination: his dorm room and personal lab roughly eighteen blocks away. All the while, he never looked up or around, allowing his canine instincts to pick the quickest, safest routes.
"Unfortunately, this seismic activity caused ground destabilization. Ground destabilization, I'd wager, is what caused the Fundlethorp building to implosively collapse. Tragic." Although it was a word spoken without emotion, Tech was very upset. The Fundlethorp building was where his first school experiment exploded, and where he had managed to stave off an earlier expulsion attempt by saving the faculty from a 'misguided' freshman. "I was caught up in the dust cloud; I remember zero visibility and almost as much breathable air. Then I remember feeling a blunt force on the top of my head…"
He trailed off at this point-there was nothing left to remember. With a sigh, he looked up to find himself in front of 'his' building. "At least you're still standing."
Cautiously, Tech walked up the three flights of stairs (he wasn't going to test his luck on the elevator) and opened the door to his single-occupancy room. Actually, it was a double-occupancy converted just for him. Having a mother with determination (and major contacts) could be useful at times. 'Home sweet home', he thought as he glanced around. Much was broken, but most was merely disheveled. The shorter bookshelf had broken, and the taller one that was next to his bed had vomited its contents all over. Plaster from the ceiling snowed down lightly. The windows were blown out-so was his fish tank. Desiccated fish lay wide eyed on the floor.
"Ohhh...Barney! Necille!" The coyote cooed mournfully. He'd always been rather fond of the pair and their amorous antics. Gingerly he plucked them up and went to put them on the 'operating' table, which was currently sporting a smattering of dried preservation fluids. Tech started and blushed when he caught his reflection in the cracked mirror along the way. He was suddenly rather glad he appeared to be the only soul around! His clothes were filthy! His pristine lab coat was smeared, and his pants were torn on one side from the hip to his calf, exposing his dust-coated boxers. Well, at least they were a clean pair, was his first thought. Giving himself a weird look, Tech pulled off the ruined things and chucked them in a corner before returning his gaze to the mirror. No point in being tidy when the world's a mess around you.
Now that he was nude, and alone, he could study his body with a scientist's careful, curious eye. From head to tail, soft shades of green had indeed entirely replaced the dun and gray fur, but his golden eyes still remained. The back of his ears appeared to be black-no, he decided upon closer inspection, they were just a very deep green. The green striped down his spine, tapering above to just above the base of his tail. Truth be told, he kind of liked the look. There were worse things in life than being green, even if it wasn't always easy to be so. Twisting and turning, he scowled as he noted that he had quite a healthy look about him. Not that this actually bothered him. Years of living the 'vie de science' had given him a scrawny, patchy, haggard frame. The coyote staring back looked athletic, as if he had never even heard of Qwik Wrap and played lacrosse all day long. Tech scratched his stomach. His fur was as soft as a pup's, and just as pliable.
Quickly, he plucked some hairs from various locations on his body. Taking time only to don a new pair of boxer shorts, he sorted and placed the hairs on slides and peered eagerly at them through his microscope. Yes, yes, just as he thought. These green hairs were healthy looking-vibrant and smooth and springy. It was as if they were newly grown. But how could that be? The pelt of an adult coyote, such as himself, should have a stiffer layer of guard hairs overlying a softer, shorter underlayer. One layer to retain heat, the other to help repel UV radiation and parasites. But these hairs were indistinguishable from each other! Every hair looked to be the same length, width, and thickness, regardless of where they had been plucked from.
Tech frowned as he continued to stare into the eyepiece. No overcoat would make him far more susceptible to sunburn, and heat loss. Not a good thing. Eyes never leaving the scope, he stretched out an arm automatically. It was his habit to keep a voice recorder near him to record any data, as well as any mutterings that may later become useful. It had saved him time and again from pulling his hair out when a test wasn't working properly, or when other colleagues tried to pass of his data as their own. Instead of the cool, black, textured rectangle, however, his fingers met sharp, jagged glass.
"Mak'tah! Shaat!" He cursed as he reared back, cradling the afflicted hand. Red beads of blood rose on his fingertips. "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" he growled at himself. "This is a war zone, not a laboratory! You should have known better!"
He snarled as he looked down at his nearly-nude self. "Look at you! You're not even wearing the slightest bit of protective covering! Shows what good you are."
Great. Now he was going to have to locate the first aid kit. Blessedly, it was near where it was meant to be. But the kit's lid had been busted open, and many of the sterile bandages were no longer so, because the iodine bottle had broken and oozed all over the place. Carefully, the genius poked through it until he found a usable pad and a small bottle of distilled water. He tore open the paper, poured on some water, and began to dab at the blood. At first he daubed gently. But as his eyes grew wider, he rubbed harder and harder. Impossible! The wounds were no longer open!
Open? It was if he'd never even been cut! With an almost maniacal gleam in his gold eyes, Tech grabbed the nearest sharp object. Hesitating for only a moment, he slashed a long gash into his arm, carefully avoiding his wrist and the major artery that lay within. He might be crazy, but he wasn't completely stupid. Blood dribbled out and clotted on the green fur, and he carefully began to count the seconds. He held his arm up at a ninety degree angle, so that the blood would flow away from the wound.
…Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty! The bleeding ceased as the wound finished sealing up like a zipper. Using the cloth to wipe away the excess blood, he was simply stunned to see his arm whole, the only evidence of his actions being a thin line of bare skin. And a few seconds later, even that proof was lost as fur sprouted before his very eyes, fresh and green like spring grass.
"Fascinating." He breathed.
Tech was shattered from his dazed reverie when a familiar, yet odd sound reached his ears. He traced it to his pants, and was amazed to extract his cell phone, bent but obviously in still working order. The screen had cracked, so the display was illegible.
"Hello?" Tech queried as he tried to find a comfortable angle.
"Tech? Darling? Is that you?"
Tinny, distant, and slightly garbled as the reception was, he knew that voice. He'd know it in a crowded room.
"Hello, mother."
"HELLO! HELLO! Is that all you can say to me? Where are you? Where have you been? Why haven't you been answering? I've been calling and calling!"
Tech rolled his eyes. Well, it was rather hard to answer the phone if you weren't awake! "I just woke up a little while ago, mother. See, I-"
"Just woke up! So you've been napping while your poor mother's been worried about you all this time! I've been running these nice soldiers to death, looking for you! Now where are you? I'll send them right over!"
"Mother, what are you going on about? Why are you with soldiers?"
"Never mind that! Where are you?"
"I'M AT HOME!"
"…"
Tech cringed at the silence. He shouldn't have screamed like that. No doubt she was frightened. It should have occurred to him sooner to call her. But then again, he had been distracted. "I'm here, mom. At my dorm room. Do you remember where it is? You've been here before." When you chastised my dorm mates for watching adult videos during school hours. Oy, what a mess that was.
"Tech Einstein Coyote! Are you telling me you are still in Borasilica!"
"Yes! Where else would I be?"
There was a long pause. So long he thought they'd been disconnected. "Mother? Are you still there?"
"You're in your room."
"Yes."
"At the University."
"Yes."
"In Borasilica."
"YES!"
"Baby, why are you still there!"
Now Tech wasn't only annoyed-he was confused. "Huh? Wait, mom? How long have you been trying to get ahold of me?"
"…Three days...Three whole days…"
"Three days…" Tech whispered in shock as the phone dropped to the floor.
--o0o--
Whee! We made it! The angsty bit is over! Now we have to put the team to work!
Did you like? Did you hate? Do you regret telling me to press on? Are you going to throttle me for what I did to Rev? Does Mak'tah! Shaat! Mean anything in the real world? If it does, lemme know. Basically, I'm trying to create a language for coyotes that has a southwestern/Native American feel to it. I'll be the first to admit I haven't a clue-I just go with what my brain says feels right.
Here, roadrunners-since they have such long, thin necks-can turn their heads nearly a full 180 degrees with minimal shoulder and spinal rotation. In Roadie's time and before, this enabled them to see danger creep up from behind. By Rev's time, the neck is considerably shorter(a trade off for stronger arm-like wings), but this feature remains
Here, roadrunners are born with red plumage, to better hide in the reddish rock crèches that are their nurseries. Although the average modern runner now lives in an adobe cave-like structure, this trait is still predominant. The plumage turns to the familiar blue at sexual maturity-about 12-15 yrs old.
I may get around to writing this tale someday, if enough people are interested.
Contrary to the urban belief, roadrunners do not just eat birdseed. They are actually omnivorous bordering of insectivores, and like the occasional small lizard in their diet. Incidentally, this is why there is a grill in Rev's backyard.
Shoe wearing by the anthro sapiens is prone to individual whim. Because their feet are often extreme in size or length (as in the case of, Elephants or Mice), or extremely specialized (like many bird species and ungulates), shoes must be custom made and therefore pricey. Unconsciously, an anthro wearing shoes is held in a higher regard by human society, while at the same time is considered a form of submission by anthrokind. As a result, Tech owns two pairs of carefully maintained shoes he wears to important meetings. But 95 of the time, he prefers his bare feet. And if you wanted to know, Rev's only pair of shoes are-you guessed it-his rocket boots.
