Exquisite choice. Now for tonight's wine, the list promotes and features a Tuscany merlot hailed by some of the city's best critics as, "full and flavorful". However, if you'll permit me to be so bold, might I suggest Chapter the Ninth? In which our heroes brave savage sushi, go to the hospital, and play with their toys.
"Okay guys," Bentley said with his projector pointed at one of the room's walls. CLICK The smashed outlet. CLICK The crates containing the welding torches. "It's clear that from last night's exploits around the lab that we've already put a big chink into Dr. Burger's operations, so much so that we're able to move into stage two of our operation earlier than anticipated." CLICK Babe-bots roaming the halls in groups of four. "However, the easy parts over. I've successfully taken control of Dr. Burger's security camera network, forcing the doctor to send out roaming bikini death squads, so secrecy is of the utmost importance right now." CLICK Sly sitting in a chair with a heavy blanket draped around him. "And to pile more good news on, Sly's way too sick for this next string of jobs, don't worry though, with a little bit of cough syrup and a lot of the Guru's magic, he'll be in top shape for the big job." CLICK The Mighty Quinn, "But before we do anything, we have to take care of this guy first, I don't think I need to remind you guys of how dangerous this joker can be." CLICK A robot repair depot, "Due to the damage that it sustained during the fight with Murray, I believe that it will have moved to this repair depot." CLICK Dr. Burger posing with his thumbs up in an old snapshot of him in front of his Super Doom Ray at his "secret" moon base. "Currently, the good doctor is patrolling the grounds in search of Penelope while some of his best girls scan the waters outside for Sly's body. He thinks he has the upper hand which is why he hasn't radioed in for assistance." CLICK A blue room filled to the brim with telecommunications equipment. "To make sure he doesn't, we're going to make our way to this room. Break-in, smash it, and that's a good play for our team." CLICK The lava lamp generator. "Incidentally, I do happen to have a plan for the big job, but I need access to the generator's inner workings if this is to work if this job's to succeed. Okay guys, let's hit it and quit it, I think the air in this place is making me unnaturally hungry."
Enter The Eskimo
The Antarctic, 5:23pm
The Panda King waited near a, now powerless, power station, waiting for the green light to begin the mission. He stood in meditation of the task he was about to undergo when Bentley crackled in.
"Okay, Panda King, I'm seeing the lowest activity for the sector in which you'll be working, right now's the best time to attack."
The Panda King began to stalk down the halls, his formidable form making no noise as he trod along the multicolored carpeting. "I must confess," he began quietly, taking care not to alert any possible patrols in the area, "Why not have mister Murray do away with this Quinn the Eskimo? His skills in hand-to-hand combat surpass even my own martial artistry."
"There's no question about who's better at knocking heads sure. But I was there in person, and this will be far from a fair, or even hand-to-hand, fight. I just got done watching the footage of the Quinn's journey to the repair depot. There aren't any cameras inside, so I don't know if the Quinn's still in their or not, but I did catch footage of a babe-bot go in with a box marked 'Upgrades', and I've been able to trace it's path from the elevator to the yellow submarine. I don't know what he's got now, but I'm certain it's now a matter of artillery vs. artillery, and you are the one with missiles."
At this, The Panda King took offense, "My fireworks are more than just mere missiles, they are-"
"Beautiful flowers that blah, blah, artsy junk, blow stuff up. Just remember that the Quinn's playing with a different deck now."
"Hmm…if what you say is true, then perhaps this will be a true challenge worthy of bearing the name King."
"Right, because spears, bombs and flamethrowers aren't nearly dangerous enough."
The conversation ended with a pop, signifying that Bentley cut the line. Which was all the same to the King, according to his mask's binoc-u-com, he'd, arrived at his destination. The Panda King now stood before a set of double doors painted with a large frowny face that was shedding a single tear, probably lamenting the band-aid that sat comfortably above it's left eye.
The Panda King tentatively placed one of his massive hands on a door to this doll hospital of doom (A/N: a corny line, I know, but just wait, it grows on you, like sushi, or a monkey shaped tumor). He took a deep breath and stepped in.
When he entered, the door brought him to a reception area like the one at the entrance yellow sub's elevator. The few variant's being white wallpaper beset with images of the all too familiar red medical cross, but it still had the unattentive secretary behind a desk.
The secretary herself was dressed in very retro but generic nurse clothing. White skirt, shoes and a nurse's hat, the last bearing the red cross. Everything seemed to cater to a rather vanilla taste, that is, everything except her shirt; she didn't wear one. And in lieu of a bra, she had two large red crosses that covered her bare…"assets".
Upon seeing her, even a stolid persona such as the Panda King's would have to agree that he was beginning to feel better, and he didn't even know he was sick. In fact he was feeling so good that he completely forgot about the door behind him. So when it began to close, and all too loud squeak was heard. The nurse began to look up from her New Big Book of Crossword Puzzles (which admittedly wasn't all that "New" since it was published in 1979). However, rather than finding an all too large panda bear, armed to the teeth with an alarming assortment of explosives, she was greeted with the much more comforting view of a closed door. The Panda King was grateful that Dr. Burger didn't program these ladies to be too inquisitive, all the nurse needed to do was look down and the jig would have been up.
Silently, the Panda King crawled over to a second pair of double doors to the left of the desk, and passed through unnoticed. What he found on the other side of the door was rather surprising, the room before him was completely different than the reception area would lead one to believe. Rather than looking anything like a hospital, the Panda King now stood in what amounted to a very high tech motor pool, with a skeleton crew of five girls dressed like their sister behind him, all working on various girls who have come to some accident or another and now require repair. One thing did catch his eye however, one repair area was completely curtained off and blocked from view, it didn't take a rocket scientist to guess what, or who, lay behind the curtain. The fact that the Panda King was a rocket scientist was hardly the point.
In seconds, the girl's all turned in the Panda King's direction, looking more confused than a hobo waking up in a bed. The confusion had a sort of domino effect, for when the girl's gawked The Panda King himself became puzzled at their puzzlement, which in turn confused the nurses as to why he would be confused, thus making resulting in even more confounded looking faces which only went to bring the Panda King's bewilderment to new heights, which then, blah, blah, blah, you get the idea. One of the nurses was slightly ahead of the curve of the class and was able to see an end to this veritable cycle of stupid.
Raising her hand, well, not actually her hand, but the arm of a chick-droid lab tech she was reattaching it to, who'd lost it in a extremely funny accident, recounted in a wonderful yet completely unrelated story, the nurse asked a question, "Umm, are you, like, Quinn the Eskimo? Y'know, like, without the sealskin 'n' stuff?"
At this, the Panda King's face quickly became flushed with relief, which then became replaced with the stolid look of quiet concentration mixed with anger. "…No…"
Once everything was cleared up, the girl's faces naturally went into attack mode, y'know, that special look they give someone before ripping their head off and dancing in the blood? Yeah, that's the look he received.
To be honest, The Panda King was somewhat distressed about this mission. It wasn't that he'd be heavily outnumbered, as a rule, all girl's undergoing repair were automatically deactivated and sent into recharge mode, so the nurses were so far the King's only opposition, he had waaay too many explosive to be hindered too much in his job by just five babe-bots. Being the son of a simple but honest carpenter, The Panda king grew up with these ideas burned into his consciousness; don't get too drunk, especially if there's a camera present, never eat the yellow snow, and always, always, never hit a lady.
Fortunately for tall, dark, and pyromaniacal, one of the ladies, the ones he was hesitant to hurt despite them being only machines, took it upon herself cast the first stone, or in this case, the first screwdriver. The screwdriver in question imbedded itself deep into the Panda King's shoulder. With a loud roar of pain, the Panda King pulled the screwdriver out which was quickly followed by a swift spurt of blood. At that moment, the Panda King's moral code was replaced with this simple and completely understandable thought; 'You. Must. DIE!!! Because it's the right thing to do.'
Taking a cue from their sister, the other nurses also picked up various tools and proceeded to chuck them with deadly speed and accuracy. Dodging the lethal barrage of three more screwdrivers, a bolt cutter, and a slightly bent blowtorch, the Panda King ducked down and to his left, landing behind a pseudo surgical table. Whilst there, he took a gander at the "medical" chart of the patient on the table, apparently she was in there for an oil malfunction, the chart also went on to say that until this problem was cleared up, she was not to be activated, ever.
The Panda King was about to go with that sage advice when he saw the business end of a buzz saw blade spin through the table, come waaay to close to his head and sink seven eighths of itself into the adjacent wall. So, going along with his new "no time like the present" attitude, The Panda King peeked at the girl and saw the exposed switch on her neck and flipped it into the "ON" position.
What happened next was quite the spectacle to see. Once the King flipped the switch, the patient did her rendition of "The Exorcist" and soaked the nurses in oil. Seeing this golden opportunity, The Panda King came out from behind his hiding place and launched a rocket to his newly black clad enemies. The ladies were quickly enveloped in fire, the King allowed himself a smug grin. The smile, however, was quickly removed from his face as yet another buzz saw tried to give him close shave. The reason why is simple, in all the movies and TV shows you've ever seen, Robocop, Terminator, Power Rangers, it doesn't matter, when has a robot ever been hurt by fire?
Suffice to say, whether or not you have seen a robot get hurt by fire, these chicks weren't the sort that did get hurt by fire. They leapt from the flames and set themselves upon The Panda King. They stood at him on all sides, since the opposition was on fire already, the Panda King needn't concentrate to use his Flame-Fu. As one lady attempted to rip his throat out, the Panda King rolled forward and performed the Fiery Wheel, the ladies being surrounded by a spectacle of beautiful, but painful colors that launched them to all corners of the depot. Ending the fight before it really begun, The Panda King packed his mortar to the brim with rockets and blew the ladies to bits.
Looking at his handiwork, The Panda King was pleased, and saw what Bentley had seen long ago. In the terms of mono-a-mono, there was no question that "The Murray" was unstoppable, but in the market of widespread destruction, and the dispatching of multiple opponents, The Panda King reigned supreme. He saw it simply as Bentley using the right tool for the right job. You don't use a hammer to chop logs.
Finally the flames from the oil fire began to die down, and he saw movement coming from behind the curtain at the back of the depot. He didn't know what to expect, it could've been any number of things to walk out from behind that curtain. But never, never ever, not in a million years would he expect to see that.
The Panda King's suspicions were true, Quinn the Eskimo was indeed behind the curtained off area. He had under gone some quite noticeable changes; his clothes were now clean instead of the blood soaked rags that were found the night before. He'd even replaced the dirty bandages on his face with new white ones, and he'd removed the hood of his parka. But here's the reason why; this monster, this machine, an assassin once feared the world over, the robotic warrior who equaled the strength of the heroic Super-Dude, without the use of fliptonite, and matched wits against the best secret agents MI-6 had to offer, without a doubt an example of Dr. Burger's finest work. This deadly throwback to a bygone era, but still years beyond the mainstream of robotics, now stood before the Panda King, his parka hood let down to reveal, of all things, a giant, black, and almost perfectly round afro!
The Panda King knew this would be a hard mission, he just didn't know it'd be in more ways than one. He stood at the tipping point, it took all of his concentration not to let loose even a chuckle, because the moment he did, there'd be no way to stop laughing at the sheer absurdity of it! Here was an almost legendary assassin, whose miraculous exploits amazed the King even after he'd established himself as an esteemed member of the world renowned Fiendish Five. That same modern day legendary warrior stood before the king wearing one of the most unthreatening hairstyles ever conceived. It was like a volcano erupting with green lava, or a rapid gorilla with sky blue fur and pink polka dots, it simply was not nearly as scary as it had once been.
"It's really good to finally be able to talk," The Quinn said, speaking for the first time since he was built over forty years ago, "Because now I'm finally able to say just how cheesey squares like you look to me."
Returning to a more serious attitude, remembering who his opponent was, the Panda King stood his ground and gave his enemy fair warning, "We are all ready to win. Just as we are born, only knowing life. It is defeat that you must learn to prepare for."
"Hmph, I won't even waste my time with it. When it comes, I won't even notice."
"Oh, how so?"
"I'll be too busy looking good."
"It is not possible," The King contemptuously replied.
"That's garbage Mr. Hand Man!"
The Panda King decided to end this useless banter and launched a rocket at the Quinn. He stared disbelievingly as an arc of electricity shot out from the Quinn's afro and blew up the rocket before it even got close to him. The Quinn seemed to shake his head as he said, "Man, you come right out of a comicbook."
(A/N: 200 points to whoever finds out what classic kung-fu flick this conversation came from)
The Quinn pointed his left hand at the Panda King and instead of becoming a missile like the night before, it began to rotate. His hand spun faster and faster, and seeing the writing on the wall, The Panda King leapt behind another operating table just milliseconds before being peppered with machinegun fire. Trying to concentrate, and aiming by memory, it was hard for the Panda to launch a barrage of rockets without poking his head out to see where he was aiming.
The seemingly never ending sound of machine gun fire came to an abrupt halt as the Panda King launched four rockets from his mortar. He listened intently as the fireworks screamed towards their target, but his heart sank when he heard the sound of electricity crackle through the air. The King peaked after a final explosion was heard, he nearly whooped with joy when he saw a lovely round and blue burn mark that appeared square in the middle of the Quinn's chest.
Feeling secure in the knowledge that the monster can indeed bleed, The Panda king packed his mortar to brim and unleashed a massive barrage. He watched with pride as the Quinn was envelope in a marvelous multicolored symphony of destruction. He almost started to sing when the smoke cleared and it was revealed that he'd blown the Quinn's left hand clear off.
The Quinn decided to pull an ace out from under his hat, seeing the abrupt change in the tone of this battle…well that and his machine gun hand was blown off. The Panda King stared cautiously as The Quinn raised his right hand and two metal nodes slid out from the sides of his wrists. The King spent so much time watching this peculiar spectacle, that he almost didn't catch the sound of a blade as it sang through the air. He ducked down and felt something slice off several of the hairs on his head as it moved as a blur towards the Quinn.
Feeling the back of his head, finding no blood, The Panda King stood up and looked at the Quinn. The object that'd just tried to behead him on it's way over to the Quinn had stopped moving inches from the Quinn's hand. The Panda king was able to recognize it as one of the saw blades the girl's had thrown at him. Seeing it simply levitate at the Quinn's whim, and noticing a few sparks of electricity skip across the metal nodes, The Panda King began to understand how this trick goes. Now, by no means was he a genius, but the Panda King had dealt with enough so called "super" scientists to recognize an electromagnet when he saw one.
Using the nub of his mangled and blown apart arm, The Quinn began to rotate the saw blade in midair. He spun it around, faster and faster, until it was a spinning blur, then it shot out towards the Panda King. The King tried to run to the left and avoid it, but due to the spin the blade had on it, it curved in the air. He saw this and barely had time to limbo bend as the blade turned it path towards him. Seconds turned to hours as he felt the air along his chest move while the blade flew by not centimeters from his chest.
The Panda barely had time to let out a sigh of relief before he heard the rattling of metal coming from behind his back. He turned around and, seeing what's what, jumped towards the Quinn. A great crash was heard as a surgical table was slammed against a wall in it's failed attempt to crush the Panda King.
Attempting to turn the tables, the Panda King let loose a couple of rockets before rushing to get out of the way of a flying chick-bot. He was dismayed however as the missiles were dispatched by several more arcs of electricity from the Quinn's 'fro. This was impossible, there was no way the Panda King could have enough time to load the amount of rockets need to outdo the overwhelming power of the afro if every object in the room was being used as a weapon to either cut or crush him. This left him with one last trick, but it was a longshot.
The Panda King put on his best poker face and ran towards Quinn the Eskimo. The King did his best not to smirk when he heard an all too familiar rattling come from behind him. He waited until the very last second, because the Quinn wasn't stupid enough to give him a second chance. The King waited until the rattling was at it's loudest before doing a stupendous backflip, allowing the large metal frame of yet another surgical table to pass harmlessly under him. The Quinn was able to stop the table in the air just inches before it smashed him.
Upon landing, the Panda King let loose another handful of rockets and grinned as he saw his work in action. The rockets made their way towards the Quinn, who, or would have, if he had a mouth, smiled smugly as his afro began to dispatch the rockets. However, things didn't go quite as he'd planned, the 'fro was unable to zap all the rockets, most of the electric volleys were blocked by the table, so most of the rockets were able to hit the surgical table, The Panda King's true target.
Ka-BOOM!!!
A great explosion was heard as the surgical table was blown to bits. Chunks of thick heavy metal smashed into just about everything in the room, especially Quinn the Eskimo, or more importantly his right hand. Almost instantly after several chunks struck the Quinn's right hand, many of the complex polarities in the magnets became reversed and it's power setting went into overdrive. A great score of sparks were seen coming off the nodes on the Quinn's arm, as all the metal objects in the depot started to be pulled towards him. When the magnet was at the precipice of it's power, he finally was able to shut the damned thing off. However, this small victory was short lived as he had to duck to the side himself to avoid being hit by, well, everything.
As he picked himself up off the ground, the Quinn chanced a glance towards the Panda King, who for his part stood in the middle of the now cleared depot, giving a supremely condescending grin. Not the sort of man, er, robot to take this sort of treatment lying down, but seeing that this could no longer be a long range battle, the Quinn made a bid for a last ditch desperation trick.
Doing his rendition of his sawing in half trick, the Quinn had his midsection split open, allowing two propeller blades to pop out on either side, just above the hips. The propellers began to spin and pulled the Quinn's massive form into the air. The spectacle left the Panda King somewhat stunned for a moment, but as the Quinn swiftly cut through the air, too late, the King tried to load his mortar. When he was above the Panda King, the Quinn shut off his propellers, which shot back into his into his body in superbly fluid motion.
The Panda King rolled to the side as several hundred pounds of machinery came crashing down in misguided attempt to stomp his head in. When got back on his feet, the King saw the Quinn's nub coming at him from a mile away. Dodging the less than perfect left hook with ease, the King countered with a right that had enough force to dent a steel door. He was however, surprised when the Quinn caught the blow with no problem in his remaining hand. All he remembered at that point was hitting a metal plate in the palm of the Quinn's hand before things started to roll in the opposite direction.
KZZT!
Pain. White burning pain was all the Panda King could recognize as he stood glued to the spot, a thousand volts of electricity arcing through his body. He could've sworn he saw the Quinn smirk under his bandages as the electricity reached it's tipping point, knocking everyone's favorite ball of ballistic fury back several feet, through the air.
When he crashed onto the ground, The Panda King was on the verge of becoming unconscious. He vaguely recognized the smell of burnt panda and smoke as some of his fur had become singed and began to smolder. In the hazy aftermath of his electrocution, it was hard for the Panda King to get his bearings, but once he did, he was able to comprehend quite a frightening sight. Quinn the Eskimo towered above him, his red lenses glowing brightly, his remaining hand upturned and open, allowing the metal plate in his hand to shine in the fluorescent light, ready for another round of electrocutions.
Before being the guest star in a barbeque style death sentence, the Panda King shot out his legs and swept the Quinn off his feet. Then without missing a beat, the King flipped forward onto his feet and fell upon the Quinn, destroying his right eye with some sort of object.
The Quinn shoved the all too heavy panda off him and got to his feet, mad as hell. Getting up and staring the Panda King dead in the eye, he shouted, "THAT'S IT MAN! YOU ARE SO TOTALLY DEAD!"
"Really?" The Panda King asked with a smirk.
It was at this time that Quinn the Eskimo heard the sound of a lit fuse. Feeling the demolished eye socket, his hand came into contact with the end of a rocket, jabbed in too deep into his head to pull out. Realizing this as the end, the Mighty Quinn's last dying words were, "Oh crap."
BOOM!
The Quinn blew his top, literally, leaving his body to ragdoll and fall to the floor. The King bowed deeply to the headless body of his adversary, cherishing the intensity of the match, before turning on the audio of his binoc-u-com.
On the other end was a great deal of cheering, with Bentley coming through crystal clear on the other end, laughing like there was no tomorrow. "Oh man!" the turtle exclaimed with amazement, not normally being a connoisseur of physical confrontations, "That was simply amazing! I thought he really had you there a couple times!"
"As did I" The Panda King admitted with a sigh.
"Okay, time to get serious. Your fight really generated a lot of noise, I can see that there are a few patrol squads coming to investigate, so head on back, I'll guide you through the safest route home."
"As you wish."
"Oh, and Panda King?"
"Yes?"
"Since you're there, grab an appropriate body for Suzy Q. It was amusing at first, but Murray will not stop with the stupid head jokes, it's driving me crazy."
"Don't you mean, it's driving you out of your head," came Murray's distant voice in the background.
"Ugh, shut up! Panda King, for the sake of my sanity, just grab the body and get back to base."
"Like this?" The Panda King asked. He had a dismantled robot body tucked under his arm and was already out of the depot, halfway down the hall. Let it never be said that the he didn't move fast for a big guy.
Octopus Garden
The double doors to Dr. Burger's "garden" slid aside, allowing Murray and The Guru to enter.
"Okay guys," Bentley said to them over each one's respective binoc-u-com, "be on your toes, we have no idea what could be coming your way."
"Mura hama ho toto?" The Guru put forward.
"Master's right," Murray agreed, "we're just going to knock out the radio communications equipment, which is just a fancy way of saying "break stuff"."
"Normally, that would be the case," Bentley admitted, "But not so this time. The radio communications room is at the other end of the garden, and I'm afraid to say that it's in an older, more savage part of this jungle, where Dr. Burger did some experimentation."
"Iyada moro heema ha?" The Guru asked.
"Oh, nothing much, just dinosaurs, giant bugs and the occasional killbot. You know, the usual."
"So what?!" Murray put forward brazenly, "It's just a bunch of cheapo monsters that got knocked off by a giant rock! Woo scaaarry. Trust me Bentley, neither sleet nor snow nor heat of day nor gloom of night shall stay these chumps from being thumped."
"Hey hapa behe mata," The Guru said sharply.
"Er, right master," Murray began, humbled, "This is all in the name of peace and stuff."
"Right," Bentley said, unconvinced, "I also should mention that there's a file on Dr. Burger's system that even I can't get into. Since the radio room is probably a new addition since he joined up with "Clock-La Cult Inc." it was probably protected by some of her best programmers. It has to do with the radio room's security so-"
"Ma hee tee wudo," The Guru said.
"My thoughts exactly."
"Beasts, baddies, and machines, and they're all mine to smash?!" Murray exclaimed, "This isn't my birthday, is it?"
"No, we're throwing you out of a plane and into a volcano for that."
"RIGHTEOUS!!!"
"You know Murray? Sometimes, you can be a real freak."
"Yeah, but that's why you love me."
"That, and you let me ride shotgun most of the time. Now get to work you two."
With that, the two cautiously moved forward, into the ancient (sorta) and savage (enough) jungle, several feet below the barren wasteland of Antarctica (no question there).
They slowly shifted through the dense bush, taking care to stay away from the main paths and doing their best to make as little noise as possible, lest they alert the ladies to their position. Indeed, this job would be a real challenge, with their foes being of the artificial brand, there'd be no "Hat Day" nonsense like in London. And since they were now travelling in packs of six, well, after dealing with Suzy Q Murray was pretty sure that he could take out three, and there was no doubt The Guru could handle at least one on the fly with no real time to do something really freaky. Any number after that, things would become a bit dodgy.
After sometime of walking, the Guru and Murray were almost absolutely certain that they were indeed going in the right direction. Their deductions were partially based on the fact, that they passed several signs reading, "BEWARE!!!", "The radio room's not here, GO AWAY!!!", "Certain doom ahead, karaoke on Thursdays", "Hey man, can't you read?!". Another big tip off was the fact that several of the local trees seemed aged and somewhat petrified. However, the real big clue came in this form…
As the two made their way through the underbrush, both Murray and The Guru passed a sign that said something in French. It was hard for the two to decipher the message since The Guru spoke Aborigine and barely understood English, any new language after that was completely over his head, and Murray was felt like he should've slapped himself on the back of his head. Now it wasn't that he couldn't speak French, seeing as much time as he'd spent there it was impossible for him not to be fluent in the language. Reading however was a different story, he remembered clearly a conversation on this very subject between he and Bentley some years ago in a fancy hotel room, they were setting up to make off with the second largest piggy bank in all of Europe (they'd already gotten the first largest the week before).
Murray could hear the turtle's voice clearly, "Murray! Stop watching that stupid boxing match and try to learn some French will ya?"
"Tch, why? We're only going to be in the country for one night, then we're on the first bird outta this dump. After that, I'll never need French again."
"You say that now, but wait and see, one of these days you'll need it."
"Yeah right!"
'Yeah right', Murray thought, bringing the setting back to the situation at hand, the irony of the past statement hitting him uglier than a head on Volkswagen/Mack truck collision. Staring at the sign, he knew just enough French to know that the sign was warning them about something (obviously), but he had no idea what exactly it was that he should look out for, he could clearly make out the words "twenty feet deep".
"Ei hata wu naba?" The Guru asked, his question shaking his former pupil out of his inspection.
Taking one last look at the sign, Murray answered, "It says something about sand."
"Hu wu yama shaba?"
"…Nah! I mean, what is someone going to do with sand in a place like this?"
So secure in mind that the path they were taking was the right one, the dynamic duo set off once again, taking the path that their hearts and partly binoc-u-coms…no, let me rephrase that, halfly their, no that's not right either, plus I don't think "halfly" isn't a word at all…Hmm…Ah, I got it now, the path that their hearts, but mostly their…Okay, the path that their binoc-u-coms lead them, which do not work in concert with their hearts what-so-ever, because the heart is just a pump inside one's body, and the act of following it is rather foolish indeed since a heart isn't the sort of organ to lead people.
In fact, with such a line of logic, it can be said that those who follow their hearts are, in effect, going nowhere. Those of you who have indeed followed your own heart and found it to be contrary to my thesis can kindly jump off the nearest bridge for proving me wrong (jerks, you know who you are). Or at least have the common decency to at least interrogate other vital organs and arteries for other plausible explanations; it's possible that it wasn't your heart that lead you to purchase that high fiber ultra-healthy milkshake, but perhaps your stomach or a cleanliness craving colon. But in all probability, it was most likely not the fault of any entrails, but just a lack of common sense (which isn't nearly as common as one would be lead to think), since most high fiber ultra-healthy milkshakes are not only without a doubt one of the most disgusting things too look at (f.y.i. they look like diarrhea in a cup), but their taste is horrible (they taste exactly like they look) and are they are expensive to boot (I'll never get my fifteen bucks back). Clearly anyone with common sense wouldn't purchase such an item (why did I buy that shit?), but spend their money on more sensible things (like tire swings, yo-yos and internet porn).
So, with that off my chest…
Secure in mind that the path they were taking was the right one, the dynamic duo (DC, please don't sue me) set off once again, taking the path that their binoc-u-coms lead them. They were tough, they were tenacious, they didn't know the meaning of the word quit, they didn't even know the meaning of the word tenacious, they were ready for anything! At least until they jumped over a log and into some quicksand.
Situation was not ideal to say the least, they were sinking and fast, well quick anyways. "Okay Master," Murray said, valiantly keeping calm as his feet disappeared into the classic jungle deathtrap, "I've read up on quick sand, most times it's not even four feet deep."
"He hama meeda he?"
"The sign?" Thinking back to the sign, the words "twenty feet deep" and "sand" stuck out clearly. "Okay, we'll have to get out of here like, really fast, but don't rush, that'll just make things worse. So whatever you do, don't-"
It was at this moment that two Tyrannosaurus Rex' decided to clomp their way onto the scene and stare down at the two thieves stuck in the mud. Oddly enough, the dino's appearance allowed Murray the opportunity to finish his sentence without having to change any of the words.
"FREAK OUT!!!" This cry was the start of much screaming produced by the two, which didn't end until they were chest deep in the quicksand (they stopped because they were out of breath). It was at this moment that Murray prematurely had that "life flash before your eyes," thingie, during which he had an epiphany. He was "The Murray!" the baddest dude the world's ever seen, famous for smashing the faces of many a henchman and capable of chucking boulders, baddies and Buicks (and not necessarily in that order). Motivated by this huge swoop of confidence, The Murray called out, "Don't worry Master, for "The Murray" shall break these foes like he breaks the wind." (A/N: please tell me you get that joke). "All they need is a little "logic and reason"."
Unfortunately, "logic and reason" were not available, due to the fact often in situations that Murray finds disconcerting, quicksand related situations included, he often takes to clutching the hem of his shirt. So, "logic and reason" were not so deep in the sand there was no way Murray could pull them out in time.
"Hay hama sheepa?" The Guru asked tentatively.
"Plan B? Why that's easy!" Turning to look the two primordial monsters dead in the eye, he sucked in his stomach, puffed out his chest, and with all the dignity and courage he could muster, he bravely said, "Please! Please! Please don't kill us! We're really gamey and haven't bathed in days! We'd taste horrible, but we know this lion guy, he'd taste awesome, what do ya say!?"
"Well I say," one dino began, in a voice that was usually reserved for those stuffed shirted geezers you see talking on PBS about art or history, you know, those guys that can take a beautiful portrait or utterly horrific battle and turn 'em into total snoozefests? That's what the big bad beastie sounded like. "They are a rude lot, aren't they?"
"Rude indeed," agreed the other, in an equally old and stuffy voice.
"Holy cow!" Murray exclaimed, "You guys can talk?!"
"Well aren't you the observant one?" the first rex began.
"Observant indeed," agreed the second.
"The worst part is that he doesn't even possess the common courtesy to even inquire as to what our name's are. And before you can even try to cobble together some apology by asking our names, I'll inform you thusly. You have the pleasure of making acquaintances out of the highly regarded Sgt. Pepper and his agreeable compatriot, The Walrus, each formerly of Dr. Burger's decommissioned Lonely Hearts and Eggmen dino brigades respectively. It is utterly "charming" to make your acquaintance."
""Charming" indeed."
At this, Murray took a moment to get a feel for everything that was just said. The second guy made sense enough, but the first was completely incomprehensible. He recognized some of the words, but the sentiment of their meaning was lost on him, and he was almost certain that quite a few of the words were made up or at least really, really, stupid. Turning to look at the Guru for guidance in the matter of advancing, he only received a confused shrug from his equally befuddled mentor.
So forced to lay his cards on the table, Murray gave the two carnivores a big, stupid looking grin and asked, "Okay, can you say that just one more time."
At this Sgt. Pepper gave and annoyed eye roll, waited for a repetition of it from his partner and answered the bewildered in a simpler manner, "I am Sgt. Pepper, he's The Walrus, and we just said hello."
"Hello indeed."
"Oh," said a belittled and slightly embarrassed Murray.
"Honestly old boy, you and you're friend seem about as talkative as that new guard chap at the telecommunications room."
"Talkative indeed."
"Hutama, mur behama," The Guru whispered to Murray, reminding him of not only their assignment, but their current situation as well.
"Okay," Murray put forward to the boring old boneheads, "since you guys aren't going to eat us, could get us out of this quicksand?"
"Ha, ha, ha!" Sgt. Pepper laughed, entertained by the hippo's statement. He suddenly stopped laughing and flashed a wicked grin towards both Murray and The Guru, which was mirrored by his partner. "Not eat you? Why my dear child, whoever said anything of the sort? That idea's just absurd."
"Absurd indeed." The Walrus agreed, his grin spreading wider to give a good show of his razor sharp and pearly whites.
It was at this point The Guru had grown tired of this foolish line of banter. His eyes smoked over and a large red wood nearby dislodged itself from the ground. It spun in the air a couple of times, then, as if held by a giant and invisible Babe "The Great Bambino" Ruth, it swung down and, with a mighty crack, sent Sgt. Pepper and The Walrus up into the air and off to some other end of the garden.
Smiling greatly at his handiwork, The Guru looked towards Murray for respect on such a radical act, but instead only received a look rife with disappointment.
"You do realize Master," Murray began, his chin halfway deep in the quicksand, "that you could've done that at any time."
Taken aback by the commentary, The Guru bounced a small rock off Murray's head before mentally snaking several vines into the quicksand to pull them out.
Once the two were out of the muck, they did their best to wipe the muck off themselves and their clothes. After several botched attempts, they returned to their current job. From the commotion The Panda King was sure to commit once he got to the depot, there'd be a definite use for the long range communications.
Finally, after almost half an hour of tromping through cursed jungle, into quicksand, out of quicksand, and dealing with an annoying pair of Jurassic Park rejects, The Guru and Murray parted several large ferns to see a glorious clearing. What lay before was a large man made pond that stretched to the garden's wall. It would've been quite the swim without the metal walkway that ran from their end of the shoreline in a big ring all the way to the door that read "Radio Communications". The two walked onto the walkway towards the door, cutting to the left of the walkway.
"BROOOOOAAAN!"
When they were halfway across, the water in the center of the ring began to viciously bubble, the unknown cause letting out a terrible roar. Higher, higher, and higher still the water thrashed, rising to such a height that if it were to collapse, it'd viciously thrust Murray and The Guru over the walk's safety rails and into the water. But as the water seemed to reach the pinnacle of it's height and ferocity, it's ascent slowed to a crawl, and after a few seconds, it stopped rising.
After that, instead of falling in a huge resounding wave, the water slowly lowered itself into the pond, swish and swirling less and less as it lowered. Soon the water was all the way down to it's original level, not a ripple to be seen. In fact, the only evidence that anything had changed was the presence of a an abnormally large daisy poking out of the water, plant was clearly fake due the fact that at the center of it's petals was just your average smiley face, staring placidly at them from across the water.
The two let out a heavy sigh, relieved that it was just a joke, a very good one too. They continued to the door when…
WHAM!
Suddenly a gigantic octopus tentacle the color of red and green toxic waste shot of the water behind the hippo and koala. It whipped around and slammed Murray into the side of the walk, denting it, before disappearing back into the water.
The Guru saw this, it was impossible for him not too, and he started to rush over to help up his fallen pupil. However, he was so distracted by the act of helping Murray, that he almost didn't catch the sound of someone hawking-a-lugi. He turned in the flower's direction and saw small wad of green goop heading right towards him. He barely had time to duck before the gunk hit him dead the face. It passed over him harmlessly and landed with a squish on the walk's railing, where the acidic mess bent, melted, burned clear through the iron railing.
Turning towards the flower once more, The Guru saw that it's "face" had changed to a look of pure determination. He however didn't have time to react as another massive tentacle shot out the water behind him. He closed his eyes, content in the knowledge that he was about to be crushed to death in this one single blow, but Murray was of another opinion on the matter. Just in the nick of time, the pink pugilist rushed over and spun into his aboriginal ball form, the glowing shell taking the full force of the blow.
At this point, master and student now stood back to back ready to face this common, and creepy, foe.
The flower spat out another high speed wad of toxic gunk, but this time The Guru was ready. Using his ever impressive psychic abilities, he stopped the ball of poison in mid air and returned it to sender. However, it was stopped as a tentacle shot out of the water to accept the blow. After which, a hurt groan was heard from the water, something under there wasn't too fond of chemical burns.
In retaliation, another tentacle shot out of the water, planning to splat The Guru like a bug, but at this point he'd switched places with Murray, who stood at the ready. When the slimy extremity hurtled downward and into the Murray's range of combat…
THWAP!
He gave it a good right and a hard goodnight, sending it crashing back into the water. Immediately after that, yet another appendage shot forth, tip forward, and gave Murray a good thump in the gut. Unfortunately for it, Murray was quick and held the limb fast before it could retreat. It took a lot to hold the tentacle without giving in and letting go, thankfully his concentration was unbroken as the Guru used a tree to block every tentacle blow and acid shot, until their enemy had had enough that garbage and tore it to bits with ease. Using all the strength he could muster, Murray took the end of the appendage and bent it in a perfect one-eighty angle.
"BROOOOOAAAN!"
The action not only tore the tentacle's rubbery flesh, which on it's own was certainly painful, but it also provoked it's owner to finally tap dance into the lime light. The water bubbled once more, it rose and thrashed with a violent rancor that was unseen before, something was not a happy camper. The surface of the water finally broke and revealed the head of a horrifically ugly octopus.
The Guru and Murray stared on, glued to the spot. The two were awestruck at the wonder of this man made titan that stared at them maliciously. Their gawking was short lived however, as they heard the sound of thrashing water from below their section of walkway. The two dove in opposite directions as another long, strong arm of the octopus shot up from below and demolished that section of the walkway.
Almost immediately after he got back on his feet, Murray had to start using some of his best dance moves and backsliding, anything to shift his weight around in time, as he had to dodge a barrage of attacks. The octopus had taken kindly to his antics and it was now using it's tentacles to catch the hippo and use it vicious, tooth rimmed suckers to tear the meat from his bones.
The Guru tried to make his way over and help his former student, or at least send something over that could. Unfortunately every time he took a step in that direction or concentrate on sending over a rock or tree, "the flower", which stemmed from the octopus' massive forehead, would spit a gob of acid at him, which he had to duck, or suffer the obvious consequences.
Pain, lots of pain, that's what he felt. Now let it be known, that Murray was quite the tank in his own right, he could take a punch better than most steamrollers, but he wasn't being punch. No, the octopus' tentacles, that were as thick and heavy as steel beams, were slamming into him with enough force to crumple a German Panzer like a tin can. Now he was actually taking the punishment rather well, all things considered, but you can only cough up so much blood before you can start to think you might be in trouble. The suddenly, it stopped, well everything except the ache and soreness in his muscles and face, he was definitely gonna feel that in the morning, but the blows were gone.
Opening one slightly bruised eye to the world around him, Murray saw the reason why his beating was halted. The Guru, aboriginal master of mysticism and all things dreamtime, had vanished. This left Murray and the octopus staring at the spot, left with a real head-scratcher. For no reason at all, The Guru had left this epic and decidedly weird battle, vanishing without a trace. Or at least to most passerby it would look so, it almost fooled Murray too, if he hadn't seen the sheet of paper lying on the walkway, with a few words of encouragement scrawled on it; "GET HIM!"
Taking the obvious hint, Murray saw that his enemy was still sitting on the question of 'Where'd he go?', and acted on the opportunity. Using the considerable strength he carried in his legs (he weighs in at roughly half a ton and not a bit of it is fat folks, those legs need to be powerful), he crouched down and with a berserker's strength, took a flying leap towards the octopus' head.
His enemy of course saw this via "flower", so shifting it's concentration from "The Mystery of The Missing Koala", the octopus reared several of it's tentacles for the coming assault. Simply put, it was going to tear Murray to shreds while he was still in the air.
"Was" being the key word in that last sentence. The Guru transformed from the paper back into his original shape and sent forth several rock which stopped the vicious fish's attack dead in it's tracks (A/N: I know that octopi are not fish, but it rhymes with vicious waaay better than the "O" word). Once Murray landed, the first order of business was to keep from getting his face melted by acid, despite it creating some of the coolest people to date (Batman fans know who I'm talking about). Doing his best to keep from sliding around on the slick and rubbery surface, Murray grabbed the "flower" by the stem, and oddly enough, it started to make choking noises.
Seeing that the tentacles weren't going to strike for the moment, Murray decided it was about high time to have a little heart to heart with their brand new pal. Taking care to have a firm grip on the "flower, but making sure not to tear the thing clean off and take an acid bath, Murray used it to slowly lower himself down the octopus' face until he was finally level with an eye the size of a bowling ball, after that, he said only two words.
"Quit it."
"*cough* Oh yeah tough *hack* guy?" came a gasping and wheezing voice that barely escaped the "flower's" black and frowning lips, "What it I *cough* don't?"
Murray then turned his attention towards the acid spitting smiley, since it was the brains of the outfit, or at least the face. 'Or else what?' huh? It was a fair question, but one Murray always had the answer for.
POW!
"BROOOOOAAAN!"
"OH! OW! YOU JERK! YOU PUNCHED ME IN THE EYE!!" was the flower's all too witty retort to Murray's answer.
Now, not one to be cowed or goaded by name calling, asked politely, "Quit it…please."
"Fine, okay, whatever. Just let go and get off me. I'll leave you two alone, I swear, scouts honor."
Now Murray was never the sort of guy who trusted people who swore (you'll get that joke later kids), and, in light of their current situation, he was pretty sure the octopus was never a scout, and if it was, it obviously didn't go far. To make a long story short, Murray was going nowhere anytime soon. He cast a quick look at the Guru, who was already thinking two moves ahead.
Murray felt a deep and painful pang in his chest as he watched the miniature mystic rush over to the radio and break it in with fragment of shredded tree, something Murray would've loved to do with his bare hands. He tried to look away, but failed, so he looked on as The Guru brought forth several small boulders and mentally sent them bouncing around the inside of the room, smashing this and that with ease. It took everything Murray had not to scream out; "YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!!!"
To Murray, destruction was an art form that had to adhere to very strict guidelines in it's creation, you use spray paint to make graffiti art, not oil pastels. Now he could understand using explosives if your mitts wouldn't do, that only adds lights and sound to the art. But to bang on things with a rock? That was just way too old hat, right up there with dropping your pants for a laugh from the audience or playing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" at a rock concert.
To him, the spectacle was sick, perverse, and ugly. Nowadays you use a giant mallet, a crowbar, a metal Louisville Slugger, or, at the absolutely very least; bigger rocks. By the time everything in the room went "Ka-BLOOEY", Murray hung numbly on the side of the octopus, his only thoughts being; 'The Horror, the horror'.
About that time, the octopus finally came up with a strategy to deal with these two goons. If everything went the way it planned, the hippo would be a gutted and bleeding mess left to die, and the koala would be an early evening snack, all it needed was for the hippo to let go of the second head's neck, and a whole world of pain and suffering would be open to him and his partner.
Sadly thought, certain flaws in it's plans were revealed, ever so politely. It dawned on it as it's eyes closed, that Murray, with his level of strength would've torn the tentacle it was going to use in two. Secondly, as it slowly sank into the water, it occurred to it the Guru could've done that vanishing trick again. But the big tip off was the fact that at anytime, or more specifically, right after the he destroyed the machines it was sent to guard, the freaky little creep somehow lifted one of the garden' giant redwoods and cracked it in half over a certain someone's incirrinate (look it up) head.
After that, the octopus felt really, really sleepy, it was not a well cephalopod. But it vowed that very day, that very instant, that it would not stop, it would not rest for an instant until it had it's revenge on the mysterious koala and hippo…just as soon as it got over it's severe concussion.
LAN Party
"You always take me to the nicest places, honey," Penelope said with a smile as she walked along the corridors of the lab, pushing Bentley's wheel chair all the while.
"Well, you see, I just thought we didn't get out enough these days, sweetums," Bentley said, his attention slightly on making sure their tech was in working order.
"I mean, the sun, the fresh air, the roaming squads of killer robots, it's all so refreshing, darling-diddykins."
"Ugh!" Sly finally shouted over the binoc-u-com disgustedly, he'd been listening in on this conversation for the last ten minutes, despising the vile language that was being used. "I'm sick enough as it is ACHOO! , do you guys have to do that nonsense? snort! Oh, and take the second left coming up and wait for the upcoming squad to pass."
"Roger. But Sly, you shouldn't get riled up and blame us for your current situation. It's not like we told to get locked in a freezing watery deathtrap."
"I was saving your hide!"
"Oh Sly," Bentley cut in as they entered the broom closet to wait for the upcoming squad to pass, "Must you sink so low. Bringing up something as old as that."
"It was just last night! ACHOO! snort! They're gone, proceed to target."
" 'Proceed to target', " Penelope mimicked, "That was awfully militaristic, especially for you. I think we should keep you like this."
"ACHOO! Shut up, this is downright lousy."
"Telling a lady to shut up," Bentley mused, "My how original and witty, I don't know how we'll ever beat such a sharp and dazzling intellect."
"Truly," Penelope agreed, "It looks like we've met our match. Stop the presses! I can see it now 'Raccoon Wonder and The Art Of Shut Up'. It'll sell millions."
"Toys, t-shirts, bumper stickers, made for TV movies, the world is your oyster Sly."
"SNORT!I hate oysters," Sly said dismally, "You're there by the way."
Penelope and Bentley now stood in front of a door that had a skull and crossbones sign that said; "It's your funeral, man".
"Okay," Penelope said anxiously as she stared at the door, "Why couldn't we hide in one of the broom closets again?"
"Because they're being checked," Bentley answered bleakly.
"What is this place anyway?"
Always the sort of man to lead by demonstration rather than explanation, Bentley wheeled forward and opened the door. The stench that hit them was the stuff of nightmares, and not the normal kind where you're naked at an important business meeting, the nasty terrible kind where scorpion monsters dressed as surgeons dissect you, cut open your head, remove your brain, pickle it, and laugh because you are forced to see it happen (everyone's had that one, right?).
"ARRRGH!" Penelope screamed as just pure waves of stink washed over her, "What in the name of Mike is in there!? It smells like three week old road kill dipped in turpentine and mixed with bad Indian food!"
"It smells more like rancid, rotten spinage and asparagus mixed with burning garbage and the remains of a bad fly orgy, with all of it being shoved up a skunk's butthole." Bentley commented, his eyes starting to water up.
"I DON'T CARE WHAT THIS PLACE SMELLS LIKE!!! Why does it smell like hell's bathroom?!"
Entering the rank room, Penelope saw several conveyor belts dump piles of only God knows what into a massive incinerator. "This charming spot," Bentley said ruefully, handing her scented nose plugs, is the waste management plant for the entire lab. Every bad experiment, every time there's an overflow of dino waste, it all comes here, unfortunately. It'll be the last place Dr. Burger will look."
"That's because anyone dumb enough to hide in here probably chokes to death! Ick! Now I'm starting to taste the air."
"You know, snort!" Sly started sickly, "I am so glad that I'm sick."
"The only reason why we're here is becauseyou're sick," Bentley lamented dryly, "Okay let's go over the plan."
"Oh please no," Penelope begged, "We all know our jobs, let's just get to it, I don't want to spend too much time here."
"Trust me, as much as we don't want to be here, we definitely don't want to come back here. So let's make sure we do it right. Sly, will you start us off?"
"ACHOO! Sure thing," Sly began, "snort! For this job I'm the man behind the computer I feed you all the nice juicy information from the monitors you need."
"Penelope?"
"You and I are working in concert," Penelope said on the verge of gagging, "Using my car and your grapple cam, we'll covertly dispatch Dr. Burger's personal guard as he prowls the lab."
"The southern end of the lab to be precise," Sly cut in, "ACHOO! Which is why you have to sit in dungville central, elsewise, snort!, your gear'll lose all connection to their remotes anywhere else."
"Precisely," Bentley agreed with a slight hint of spite in his voice, "However, once his guard's dispatched, we steal a key card for access to the Lava Lamp Generator, which he incidentally has on him at all times."
"snort! After which," Sly continued, "We get to have fun splashing around in cooling fluid we it snort! comes time for the big job."
It is at this time that I must divert away from the story to allow a more accurate description of the equipment that is to come into play. In our tale we've already encountered Penelope's ever powerful RC car. It has twin mini-automatic cannons at it's top, as well as very strong pressure plates on its sides, and, at it's back a highly powerful nitrous jet.
Next is Bentley's rather remarkable grapple-cam. This particular piece of equipment isn't yet another in a long line of devices that go boom after being thrown, it is that and so much more. The device is slightly larger than an average hand held bomb, it packs a lower punch than it's smaller brothers, but makes up for it in it's many different and highly applicable uses.
It's capable of movement independent of being thrown by utilizing a sophisticated claw and zip-line system. It is also coated with a rather potent adhesive that allows it to stick to just about anything; wood, metal, glass, melting ice, etc. Not just that, but what's more is the fact that it contains full audio and visual equipment allowing it to see the target and, if necessary, talk to it if need be. And of course, what state of the art surveillance gadget is complete without a fully functioning mini-automatic cannon of it's very own?
Penelope opened the door and got as much fresh air as she could before dropping both her car and the grapple-cam on the floor. After that she walked over to Bentley and received the most crucial piece of equipment that was an absolute requirement for the operation.
The turtle pushed a button and a compartment on his chair opened. From it Penelope pulled out a pack of gum and three Green Bulls (it gives you fins) for herself, and a thermos of coffee and twenty Twinkies for the gentleman in the shell. Each with their respective tools in hand, the two techies did their customary rituals for such an operation. The lady did so by chugging a Green Bull and popping a bubble with her gum, the gent by taking a huge swig of coffee and cramming three Twinkies in his mouth…they were ready, and may God have mercy on those that stood against them, they were fresh out at the moment.
The two flipped on their respective devices and were subject to full audio and visual from the hall outside the plant. Chomping on their junk food, the two became immersed in the screens before them. The pieces in their ears, the reflexive actions of fingers on buttons and joysticks, and, more than anything else, the HD images that flooded their vision and filtered through to their brains was their entire world now, and they planned to do right by it.
"Okay," Sly said, staring at the monitor that showed the door to the waste management plant, "ACHOO! The Doc's checking various rooms snort! east of you. Proceed to your left take the third right, two second lefts, snort! a first right and then straight on." He sat and waited, at first he thought that he'd lost sound with them, but then the devices on screen started to move.
The two followed Sly's instructions to the letter, Bentley taking the high road, and Penelope on the low, for obvious reasons. But on the last right, Bentley found his vision flooded with a larger than life look at Dr. Burger's face. Meanwhile Penelope was left on the floor to dodge the doctor's dirty feet and the feet of the personal guard behind him. Bentley clenched his teeth, waiting for Dr. Burger to freak out and sick his guards on the grapple-cam. He was disappointed in that aspect, as the good doctor walked on without so much as a slight inhale, and the girls followed, each giving the grapple-cam a very good evil eye without missing a step.
This of course confused The Cooper gang think tank duo, but half their answer came when the doctor entered a room to the left, giving them a good look at the headphones plastered over his ear, blaring about someone named Sister Goldenhair. "Sly," Bentley said, still seeking more answers, "my ThiefNet computer should still be on the table, go get it."
"snort! Sure thing," the raccoon replied. Swiveling his chair, Sly got up and walked over to still active piece of equipment, "ACHOO! Okay, what now?"
"It has a direct link to my computer here, send me all info we got from Suzy Q on the androids AI, subsection; bodyguard."
"…Okay, it's asking for a password."
"Black Baron, all one word."
"Aww, that's sweet," Penelope said, silently moving the car into the room before the doors closed.
"…Okay, this explains it. They're under orders to attack anything living or that just simply looks dangerous or out of the ordinary as a standard."
"snort! Wouldn't that mean weird devices stuck to walls?" Sly asked.
"In a place like this?"
"ACHOO! Point taken."
"So long as we're not seen doing something dangerous, we'll be fine. After that, they work by a mind over matter protocol."
"'Mind over matter'?" Penelope asked.
"If he doesn't mind, it doesn't matter."
"Hmph…funny, but can we get some info on just who is in this guard detail?" Penelope asked sharply.
"No problem," Bentley said, positioning the grapple-cam above the door Dr. Burger and his girl's went through, "Suzy Q also gave us a roster of all androids in the lab."
"snort! I'm looking at the roster," Sly began, "it's lengthy, can I get a description?"
"My grapple-cam doesn't have a record function."
"My car has a camera," Penelope cut in, "Gimme a sec." She hid the car behind an old wastebasket and snapped shots of the four guards that trailed behind Dr. Burger as he stalked an old locker room reserved for henchmen. "Okay, I'm uploading the shots."
"snort! Got 'em…searching…okay, ACHOO! here's the score…Wow, it's a good thing that we aren't physically down there."
"What're the stats?" Bentley asked irritatedly.
"Well, after Quinn the Eskimo, these girls have the highest snort! success rate out of all the androids on the roster. They're trained and built to be the very best."
"Joy," Penelope said sarcastically.
"Don't worry, there're certain kinks about them ACHOO! that you can work on to give you an edge."
"Unique in Burger's eyes, weaknesses in ours," Bentley said with a sinister chuckle, "Marvelous."
"You'll have to go at 'em one at a time, snort! so I'll read off the fact as you deal with 'em."
"Okay, they're leaving the locker room," Penelope informed the other two, darting he car out the door before it closed.
Bentley sat in wait, making sure not to move until the parade of punishment had passed under the grapple-cam before joining Penelope in silently stalking their prey. The protection parade formed a loose single file line behind Dr. Burger as he played air guitar for "Mrs. Robinson." The Lady at the back was a girl garbed in a red and black feather coat, with a poodle skirt, biker gloves and sandals following the same color scheme.
"Okay, snort!" began Sly, "it says here her name's Miss Scarlett, duh, ACHOO! Has a thing for red, huh, no kidding."
"And that helps us how?" Penelope asked with irritation apparent in her voice, she did not like staying in that waste dump.
"I think I see a way," Bentley said as he "studied" Miss Scarlett's shapely legs, and the black fishnets that clung so tightly to them. "Sly, where's he heading?"
"Umm…the monitors say the second left, it's an area he hasn't checked yet."
"Is there an elevator nearby?"
"Yeah, it's the first thing you go by."
At this point, Bentley zip-lined ahead of the group, going over Dr. Burger's oblivious head, and catching nothing but dirty looks from the guards. "The ThiefNet computer's already patched into the lab's systems, can you open the elevator doors?"
"ACHOO! Uno momento…nothing doing, I can access it, but it's got an encryption blocking it, and I'm not too good with your tank program."
"Use 'Gorilla and Plumber'," Penelope suggested.
"Gorilla and Plumber?!" Bentley said aghast, "That is an old one."
"But a good one."
"snort! It's open," Sly said.
"Case in point."
"Alright sweetheart," Bentley said, handing her the mike to his grapple-cam, "Repeat after me."
Miss Scarlett wasn't too worried. From what she's been hearing, the raccoon was a drowned rat, and this mouse chick had nowhere to go, there was no way for her to escape. It was just a matter of time before they find out where she's holed up at. Then everything goes back to business as usual; torture, interrogation, execution, world domination, y'know, the fun things in life.
Until then, it was nanny work. She was pretty sure that she could handle whatever the creepy little ball swinging around could throw. Dr. Burger was in safe hands. Dr. Burger…now that's a man, it always astounded her that even a man at his age could keep his butt so firm, that's what she liked most about him, or at least programmed to like.
Her steely confidence was slightly dented however at the fact that the creepy little hook-ball had disappeared as they rounded the corner. After looking all around, Miss Scarlett saw that her sisters too had lost the malevolent little trinket. Thinking nothing of it, she focused back on the Burger, trying to ignore the annoying little car right at her heels.
It was at that time that she heard a noise come from the elevator behind her. At first she thought she'd imagined it, the logics of which she'd grapple with later. Forcing it away from her zeroes and ones, she focused back on the doctor, but then she heard it once more, she was sure of it this time. She heard some chick in the elevator yapping, "Look at that, a perfectly good pair of red fishnet stockings that someone just left here in the elevator. Well I certainly don't want 'em. Oh well."
Well! That's all Miss Scarlett needed to hear. Being as sneaky as she could be, and sometimes she was so sneaky that she surprised herself, she slunk away from the group and headed towards the elevator and her brand new pair of red stockings.
Unfortunately, when Miss Scarlett entered, she felt that something was amiss. She soon realized that she'd been bamboozled, and it wasn't because the doors suddenly snapped shut, and it wasn't the fact that she was the only person in the elevator. It was from the terrible and horrific fact that nowhere, no matter where she looked or how hard she looked, THERE WERE NO MOTHER F***ING FISHNET STALKINGS ANYWHERE!!! THE HORROR!
Taking a step back from this melodrama, Scarlett went back into work mode, just as she heard the sound of a small cannon fire. A grin spread across Bentley's face as he pulled the trigger that severed the elevator cables, sending Miss Scarlett on a one way trip to the bottom of the shaft.
"Going down?" Bentley asked sadistically to no one in particular, sending the grapple-cam out of the shaft.
"OH MAN! snort!" Sly whooped, "That was perfect!"
"I do aim to please."
"Meh," Penelope sighed, "it was okay."
"What are you talking about? That trap was perfect!"
"Well…you did mention a modern marvel of science, along with an elevator we could've used during the big job. Not to mention there was too much set up for such a simple prank."
"You're criticizing…how I kill robots?"
"…Yes I guess that's right."
"Fine, let's see you dispatch one faster, and without resorting to deadly force."
"Piece of cake. Sly what's the score?"
The next one up for the chopping block was a busty brunette in a rather unusual French maid outfit, and when I say unusual, I mean the apron was a checkerboard, the lacy dress had a black with white polka dots and leggy thigh-high boots that sported a zebra-stripe pattern.
"ACHOO! Her name's Mrs. White, snort! Sorry but there's not a whole lot to work with on this one. Her hearing's a bit better than the others, but that's about it."
"…Aren't we near the outer wall?"
"snort!Hold on…yeah, you're headed right towards it in fact."
"Perfect," Penelope said, glad that her course didn't need to change. She continued to drive slowly behind the lot until they took a right and went down a hall that had windows on the left looking out to sea. It was at this point that Penelope slowed down and drove parallel to the windowed wall.
Making sure the group was out of decent earshot as they rounded a corner, Penelope started hitting the switch for the pressure plate, slamming the sturdy piece of steel repeatedly into the chrome wall, denting it. She then backed away from the wall and shot it, blasting a hole in it that was roughly the size of Murray's big toe (trust me folks, that is one heckuva toe!). Almost immediately, gallons of near zero Antarctic started to flood in through the hole, fortunately with no sign of widening.
"Okay," Bentley said with a less than impressed tone of voice, "you made a hole that didn't set off the alarms what's so-"
"Shh!" Penelope cut in, "…wait for it."
"…Wait for-"
For the second consecutive time in the last two minutes, Bentley had been interrupted. However, on the second time, it was the answer to his unfinished question that did the interrupting. At that very moment, being the only one with good enough hearing to recognize the sound of a leak, Mrs. White came streaking back down the hall and around the corner like a bat out of hell. The lab always came first, no matter what, that's what Burger taught them.
Penelope barely had time to move her car before Mrs. White took a baseball slide towards the hole, clasping her hand over the leak. She breathed a sigh of relief, or at least her rendition of an artificial one, it was all okay, least that's what her overly bright and sunny personality said. Plus, she asked her magic eight-ball if today was gonna be a groovy one, and it said, "maybe," and everyone knows that means yes.
Okay, sure, she was lying on the floor with her hand over a rather nasty leak whilst two very suspicious looking devices rushed off after her boss with the possibility of causing harm to him. She would have yelled to warn her sisters about the possible assassins, but Dr. Burger was lip syncing to "Imagine All The People," when she ran off, and he gave explicit instructions never to bother him when that song is played. It was all going to work out a right nice slice of okay, the eight-ball said so.
"Okay," Bentley started, "I'll admit that that had way more finesse than the elevator."
"Why thank you," Penelope said, smiling at the compliment, despite her surroundings.
"When you two are done licking each other's boots, snort!" Sly said curtly, "We're still on the clock."
"Geez Louise, your one to talk, you goof off on the job all the time."
"ACHOO! Things change when you catch the cold from hell. snort! He'll be coming up on the left."
"Roger," Bentley said. As the grapple-cam and car rounded the corner, each in their own way, they set sights on their next target. As strange as the characters came in this throwback to a bygone era, this lady had the final word on strange. Looking more like an escapee from La Nouba rather than an evil robot henchwoman, the next target was a tall leggy blonde who was dressed from hairline to toe in, what Penelope hoped was (and Bentley didn't), a deep blue, skin tight, body sized leotard, accentuated with thin, light green swirls.
"ACHOO! "little miss loony" here goes by Mrs. Peacock, snort! She's hardly ever called up for guard duty, snort! since her lot is usually assassination, which explains why her armor's really heavy…just about everywhere except the joints. ACHOO! And yes Bentley, all that is painted on."
Working hard not to smile at the last bit of information as Penelope's eyes fell on him, Bentley sat and tried to think of a way to take care of Peacock quickly and quietly. "I got an idea," Bentley said.
"Really?" Penelope asked with hope in her eyes, as she too was grasping at straws for an answer to their current predicament.
"Yeah, all we'll need is some duct tape, one, no, two screwdrivers, a magnet, and one solar powered particle accelerator weighing approximately sixteen-point-thirty three kilograms."
"…"
"…It seemed like a good idea in my head…"
"…"
"…Well it did!..."
"snort! There's an open stairwell if that helps," Slay said, chipping in.
"…Actually," Penelope said, a sinister smile spreading across her face that'd make the Grinch proud.
Peacock was worried. Half the protection guard had disappeared, well, run off to be precise. For Scarlett to do so wasn't too surprising, she'd always been little…off. But White was a surprise however, she'd always been a tad bit more reliable, completing the job no matter what and only failing in an objective when it was in conflict with an objective of a higher priority. Then of course there was the fact of the matter was that there were two mysterious little gizmo's trailing behind them. She knew there was something fishy going on with those trinkets, and that just wasn't because they were several fathoms below the water and ice (wokka wokka!). For instance, there was the fact that when they suddenly appeared, and not long after the others start to disappear, and the fact that…well…that was about it. The main problem was that she didn't know if the toys belonged to Burger or some really ungroovy dudes, she would ask the doctor herself, but he just hit the John Lennon section of his portable 8-million track player, and he totally freaks out whenever anyone interrupts his karaoke session with that playing.
It was about that time the little "Spider-Ham" wanna-be ball zipped over and went ahead to the stairwell that they were coming to. Well that was the last straw for Mrs. Peacock. She was going to march up to Dr. Burger, yank those stupid little plugs out of his head and give him a real earful. She was going to demand that he tell her what those things are, Lennon or no.
Unfortunately, things change, yes, and they transmute as well, in heaven above, and here in hell (A/N: I do not claim ownership to the last statement, those lovely little lines of dialogue were written by the ever talented Neil Gaiman, from his multi-award winning graphic novel "The Sandman", in my opinion, the greatest story ever told!)
Now back to our story.
Unfortunately, things changes, and they always have such a nasty tendency to do so at the worst of times. Just as Mrs. Peacock was about to march over to berate her boss (not the smartest idea, I know), the RC car drove under her foot before it padded on the floor. What happened next was something highly reminiscent of the cartoons we all grew up watching, you know, the ones where the plucky cat or the sneaky coyote step on a roller skate that sends 'em on a wild ride that for no reason does a u-turn and chucks them into something unpleasant. In this case it was the stairwell.
And to pile more good news on, it was a spiral stair with a steep incline and practically no landings. Here's the equation; super hot robot chick, plus steep spiral stair, minus any real landings or means of slowing down equals: Mrs. Peacock going down three stories before she actually stopped. Once she got back on her feet, Mrs. Peacock was mad as hell (shocking, I know). She was going to run up there and smash that freakin' car into a million and one pieces, and she would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for that meddlin' grapple-cam! (A/N: Go ahead, laugh, it was funny).
Bentley, being the ever lovable fly on the wall followed the decline of Mrs. Peacock, and he saw her go down the stairs too. He had to wait for her to get back on her feet before he caught the look of murder in her eye. Simply put, she was going to moidelize the car, and that just wouldn't do. He targeted one knee, sighed, he'd feel bad about this later, and pressed a button that fired the grapple-cam's cannon, knocking out one leg, then the other. And as an afterthought, he took her arms at the elbows to make sure she couldn't come crawling back.
It was a few minutes before the grapple-cam rejoined Penelope's RC car in tailing Dr. Burger and his last body guard
"You're lucky that the grapple-cam requires you to wear earpieces," Penelope said dryly, breaking radio silence, "His rendition of "Working Class Hero" is the worst you've ever heard."
"How can he ruin "Working Class Hero"?" Bentley asked, genuinely surprised, "it's practically impossible to sing it incorrectly."
"Trust me, he did."
"The fiend! What's next on the menu Sly?"
The last bodyguard was a frizzy brown haired woman in a black cabaret pinstripe suit with a deep purple trench coat and fedora, she had a real noir feel to her.
"ACHOO! Her name's Prof. Plum and she's…oh man. snort! From the looks of it, after Quinn the Eskimo, she's the most dangerous robot Dr. Burger's got."
Penelope took a minute to think on this, to be honest it was a real head scratcher. She'd heard what the Quinn was capable of, and anything even remotely close to that wasn't going to be taken out with what they had to work with. She turned to Bentley and delivered this message with a long face and a heavy heart; "Unless Burger himself calls off Plum, this operation's doomed."
The reaction to this ill boding news was quite unexpected however, mostly because Bentley retorted like this, "AH-HA-HA-HA!!!"
"…There's no chance at winning…"
"WAH-HA-HA-HA!!!"
"…We're not going to, ugh, look, what's so funny?"
"Hee, hee, hee, don't you get it? We have this job in the bag! I just wish I could've realized this sooner."
"…WHAT?!"
"Okay look," Bentley said, pressing a button that opened a small compartment that Penelope had never noticed before. From it, he pulled out a small handheld box that, aside from a small screen and a few knobs, looked to her like any other wire patch, she had a million of them back on the boat, and a million more in the garage at home.
"What is it? snort!" Sly asked over the mike, not knowing what was happening.
"I'm just using a souvenir we got from The Contessa back in Prague."
"Souve-…oh, The Clockwerk Eyes job, that brings back memories,…none of them are really good."
"Oh yes, The Clockwerk Eyes job, who could ever forget that one?" Penelope said sarcastically, she hated it when those two and Murray talked about the old days, she was out of the loop and felt stupid, and Penelope and stupid do not mix well.
"Sorry Penelope," Bentley said, "this is the Contessa's experimental voice emulator."
"And it helps us how?"
"Give me moment to integrate it into my grapple-cam systems, and prepare to be amazed."
It was hard, really hard, nearly impossible. She tried her best and it was still a struggle for Prof. Plum not to smile. This was it, the last step, her ticket to the top, and it was all thanks to whatever idiot was in control of the car and chain ball. They'd been picking off the rest of the guard left and right, which was still astounding to her since it took herself so long to bump off Rev. Green and Col. Mustard and make those girls' deaths look like accidents. These two were doing that and more in the span of an hour or so. Sure she could stop the gadgets and save her compatriots, but why let them share in her crowning glory? But with the others gone, once she smashes the toys and alerts the doctor, that was it.
She pictured it perfectly, once she destroyed the spy devices, she'd alert the doctor to the danger he was in and how she single-handedly saved his life. Then that was it, she'd be the doctor's favorite. No more sitting in cold storage, no more missions with those three other idiots, and certainly no more playing second fiddle to that pathetic Eskimo. She'd be the doc's number one, and there was nothing in store except only the toughest and most glorified missions. Look out world! The Age of The Plum has arrived!
She could barely contain her joy as she watched the car, with the ball on top of it, zip past and drive in between Dr. Burger's feet. This was too easy. As strong as her own feet were, all she needed to do now was speed up a bit and-
"Go swim in the volcano."
Plum practically stopped dead in her tracks, the order came from nowhere, and the idea of any order that endangered her own beautiful skin was horrifying without question. The most disturbing part was that the order came from Dr. Burger's location and in his voice.
No, it was impossible, he'd never say such a hateful thing, not her doctor. No…not unless…no, he couldn't have figured out that she's been killing her teammates to further her own ambitions. She was always so careful, always. It must've been a mistake. Yeah that was it, chances were he was singing some lyric from whatever stupid scatter-brained song he was listening to, that was it.
"Yo! Are you totally deaf, man? I said go swim in the volcano, for an hour, no, make it two, oh, and like totally bring back some nachos when you get back, 'kay? Thanks babe."
And just like that, forty years of plotting, planning, scamming, scheming, and more plotting; all down the tube. Heh, funny.
It took a commendable effort on Bentley's behalf to remember to shut off the mike before laughing like a maniac. The grapple-cam equipment? Six hundred dollars. His suped-up wheelchair? Two thousand five hundred dollars. The look of shock on Prof. Plum's face? Priceless. Of all the things he could've thrown at her; that was the last thing she'd ever expected.
Now, all that was left to do was pluck the lava generator access card from Burger himself. Bentley smiled as he aimed the grapple arm at Dr. Burger's back pocket. "Now, you might feel a slight pinch…"
Pluck!
"Now, now, Scarlett, I know my butt's really cool but we're on the clock," Dr. Burger said with a laugh. That Scarlett, always playing jokes.
And that folks is chapter nine.
I think it goes without saying that I'm sorry for taking so long on this update, especially to all my regular readers and reviewers. I had college stuff I needed to apply for, not to mention it was the end of the school year, and it's always hectic. But, thank god, it's summer vacation, so with no more school, no more books, and no more teachers dirty looks, I got the free time to really sink my teeth into the story.
And, without further ado, let's give a round of applause to the guys who can actually stomach all my garbage and say something nice about it.
sotnosen93: Thank you, I'd be a comedian if I weren't allergic to rotten tomatoes. I hope that I answered your question by now. I kinda assumed that since Sly locked himself in a freezing, metal, and watery death trap, we should probably focus on his problems for that moment.
Green Phantom Queen: Thanks, I always try to find just the right mix of comedy and calamity in any chapter, I still feel I was just a bit too serious during the dream bit, but then again, I am the eternal clown, so I guess I'll never know. Anyways, thanks for for your thoughts and trust me, this story's gonna be like the flu, it's gonna get worse before it get's better.
The Good Thief: Hey man, thanks. Anyone saying that my story's their favorite really gets me right here (I'm pointing to my heart…or lung, which side of the body is the heart supposed to be?). I'll try not to keep you waiting so long for another update.
Arktikum: Oh no, how dare I write a good story that people read. Spank me, I've been bad. Anyways, Ash, trust me, it's like the song goes: "you ain't seen nothing yet!" Oh, and "pow KAPOW!" to you too. ;P
Now, it's sad to say it, but it's time to head on out boys and goils. So I'll just sum this up by saying, please review, I'm sorry for taking so long, keep at me to crank out another chapter, and PLEASE REVIEW!!! It makes my panties wet (I'm not a chick, I just like wearing their clothes (that's a joke by the way)). So you guys soon.