Crit-icize Me All You Want
A fun April Fools thing I did, a mini crossover with a certain military millinery simulator. The events of this short are completely non-canon, occurring in the dot above the I of Jeremy Bearimy, the time moment where nothing ever happens. So, this never happened.
In a world very much like the world that the survivors had come from, but far, far stranger, a building in the middle of the desert had its lights on, a party taking place within for an unknown purpose. Whatever it was for, the people inside were clearly having fun, as they're voices could be heard through loud party music.
"Conga, conga, con-ga!"
"Hmmph hmph mmph!"
"Let us dance like no one is shooting at us!"
"Hey, fellas, I'm gonna grab us some drinks! Be right back, do not touch my bucket of chicken."
Footsteps could be heard through the noise as the owner of the voice wandered over to another part of the building.
"Oh, baby am I glad Engi invented you. Come to daddy, you… Hey, did anyone leave their bombs over here?"
And then the building exploded, sending debris flying everywhere as the people inside screamed and groaned in annoyance. "Ah, come on!"
"Oh god, my beautiful face! Don't look at me, I'm slightly less handsome!"
The debris fell into a nearby lake, among them a vending machine that sunk straight to the bottom, never to be seen again by the waking world.
But it would be seen again, by some unfortunate survivors in need of a bone thrown at them. And boy would it be a heck of a bone.
Maxwell grumbled to himself, the unbearable sun shining on his face, making him sweat in his fancy suit. The others had felt it important for him to be on oasis duty this year, fishing up trinkets and fish from the lake to refresh their stock, as a "personality building" exercise. Clearly, it was just that Wilson had convinced the others to drop the chore on him as revenge for a certain comment on the scientists scientific skills that had been taken quite badly. He had to admit, the way his face had scrunched up made it all at least somewhat worth it.
"How is tiny frail man doing? Need help from big, strong Wolfgang?"
"Leave him be, Mighty Wölgang. Öur prisöner turned herö needs tö build söme muscle in his weakling frame sömehow."
Ah, right, he also had the performer trio supervising him, and by supervising he meant criticizing his every move. Wes couldn't talk, but the mime had learned to master the art of the judgemental look. He hated him more than ever these days. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't constantly commentate on my every move. Unlike you layabouts, some of us here are trying to work." He growled out.
"Hohoho! Tiny frail men is also tiny funny man. To make big muscle, one must lose big ego. We just help in process, as tiny brainman always tell us." Wolfgang chortled out.
"Yes, Wilson advised us tö översee yöur wörk för this exact reasön. If we weren't here, thöu wöuld summön yöur shadöw servants and dö nöne öf the wörk."
Wes shook his head and tutted, making Maxwell hate the mime even more than he usually did. "Yes, the help is strongly appreciated. I've always known that if I needed help in building my character, I could ask the strongman scared of his own shadow, a delusional actress and the world's most annoying mime. I'll make sure the review of your work is positively glowing when I return bearing the fruits of my labor that I received no aid with."
"Ha, tiny frail man always have best jokes." Either the insults flew over his head, or Wolfgang found his attempts at being his old, evil nightmare king jerk self pathetically hilarious. He was hoping for the former.
Any more ruminations on how much he hated the trio of performers right now were interrupted when his fishing line snagged something that felt particularly not like a fish. Trying to pull it out was futile, whatever it is he caught being wedged deep in the pond.
The others watched as the haughty and mighty former king of the world huffed and puffed through gritted teeth, clearly struggling to reel his catch in. They shared a laugh amongst each other, clearly enjoying themselves, before Wes finally decided to take pity on him.
Maxwell noticed the mime about to wrap his hands around him to grab his fishing rod. "I -grr- do NOT need- huff- help you silent insult to the arts." Wes ignored his complaints, and went to pull alongside him. The (debatably) extra muscle did not help whatsoever, the stubborn catch refusing to let itself be caught.
"Oh, frail man was not being sad weakling man. Is actual challenge." Wolfgang realized. He pulled out a bunch of meatballs out of his leotard pocket, stuffed it in his mouth, and began to saunter over to the struggling duo of frail men. "Fear not, mighty Wolfgang is here to save day."
Wes backed away from the pond, Maxwell grumbling and hesitating briefly before handing over the fishing rod to the giant man of muscle. Taking some deep breaths; flexing his biceps a bit and flashing a smile at his audience, he began pulling on the twig.
Wes and Wigfrid cheered on their friend, Maxwell looking on completely unamused. Wolfgang huffed and puffed, muscles bulging as he visibly struggled to reel in the immovable catch. No questions were asked on how the fishing rod made out of twigs and silk was able to handle all of this -Constant logic- but they did wonder if Wolfgang would be able to succeed.
Their doubts were dashed away when with one last, almighty pull, Wolfgang yanked the stubborn object out of the lake. It flew gracefully in the air, before landing on the ground with a loud thump, kicking up dust and dirt into the air.
As Wolfgang wiped sweet off his brow, only the slightest bit winded, the group gathered around the mysterious object, waiting for the dust to settle to see what it was. What they saw, a strange, rectangular hunk of metal with a glass display on the font, gave them no answers. They needed an expert.
Back at the camp the two local experts on weird knick knacks that popped up in the Constant, Wilson and Winona, looked the strange contraption over. Wolfgang had hauled the thing back from the desert for them to see, and with almost everyone else away, and their tasks of maintaining the flingomatics done,they had the time for an examination.
Wilson pulled open a hatch under the glass panel, and was met with a torrent of water pouring on him. Once all of it had come out, the man completely soaked, and hair completely ruined, he stood up. "It's full of water."
"Yeah, we noticed, egghead." Winona deadpanned.
As the scientist shook his hair back into form, Winona went to crack open the mystery with her trusty secret skill, capable of opening any compartment, no matter how secured. She smashed the glass panel on the contraption with a sledgehammer, breaking it open.
Without the grimy glass blocking their view, they could all see what was inside: a bunch of yellow cans, branded as Crit-a-Cola.
"Huh, these look like soda, but in cans? At least I think it's soda. Never seen this brand before, let alone coming from a box like this, and in an aluminum can." The handywoman grabbed a can out of the machine, examining it in her hand.
"It appears to be some kind of soda dispensary. I know that they made machines that dispensed soda in cups, but this is the first time I've seen it canned. Must be one of those distant future things that fell in here." Wilson said.
Wes hummed in thought, before turning to badger Maxwell on his potential knowledge. He didn't go ahead though, seeing that the former king looked just as confused as them. Though he also looked pensive, as if he was trying to remember something in particular.
"I believe the true questiön öf the höur is whether this strange beverage is safe tö drink. It cöuld be a trap set by öur current höstess öf nightmares." Wigfrid pointed out.
"Yeah, true. We need to test this." They needed someone perfectly willing to ingest random substances of suspicious origins with nary a second thought on the potential consequences. And Winona knew just the guy. "Hey, Wilson?"
Wilson, currently in the process of drinking out of one of the cans. "Mmph?"
"Yeah, shoulda seen that coming. Just keep going and tell us what it tastes like."
The scientist extraordinaire rolled his eyes and parted away from the can, sloshing the liquid around inside his mouth. It tasted… sparkly, and sugary, with a slight hint of radioactivity. An odd combination of flavors, and a dangerous one if you took into account what radioactivity meant. Wilson knew enough about radioactive stuff from messing around with things in his old lab to know that it was dangerous, but also had a small chance of being not dangerous.
Ingesting it fully after finishing the taste test, Wilson turned to the others to share his findings. "It tastes pretty safe to me. Maybe a bit too sugary. And the radioactive aftertaste might be something to worry about."
"So it's just a super sugary- wait did you say radioactive?" Winona balked at the radioactive part.
"Yeah. I don't think it's anything to worry about. I mean, bananas are radioactive, and yet we let Wendy and the other kids eat them without any complaints." Wilson didn't seem worried in the slightest. He'd handled dangerous substances before and came out with only mild to severe chemical burns. He only ended up in the hospital once or twice. Sure, his hands were emitting crackling electricity now, but that could be from something completely unre- wait a minute.
Everyone backed away from the scientist out of shock. He was looking at his hand in idle curiosity, only uttering out a quiet "Huh." at the sight of what was happening to his body.
"What is happen to tiny science man? Oh no, is he going to explode again?" Wolfgang hid behind Wes, trying to avert witnessing another exploding scientist incident. Wes simply looked worried at what was happening to Wilson, while Wigfrid took up arms in case things would get violent.
Winona scratched her head, all too used to Wilson having something weird happen to him. And as for Maxwell...
Well, he looked like he had realized something. His mind flashed to a time long ago, back when he was on the throne lulling people into the Constant with lies and trickery. Specifically, he remembered a particular person, though he wasn't sure if it was human to begin with.
All he knew was that it loved fire more than the firestarter, it was a mercenary, and that Maxwell and Them had kicked the being out of the Constant after a few days. He could still hear the screams and begging of the pigmen. And oh, how the Deerclops cried and begged for mercy. It had scared him.
And the sight of Wilson's hands crackling with a familiar electric tint brought that old fear bubbling back.
"I know what this is." He finally uttered, getting everyone's attention. He looked around the camp for something to test out his theory, and spotted a boulder they hadn't bothered to mine in a while. "Higgsbury, punch that rock."
The scientist blinked, looked at the rock in confusion, and then glared back. "What are you getting at, old man?"
"Just punch the damn thing."
"Okay, okay, fine, I'll punch the rock. Honestly." Wilson rolled his eyes and walked up to the boulder. He balled up his fist, looked the rock up and down on where to punch it, turned back to Maxwell, "If this kills me I'm telling Wickerbottom." and then took a deep breathe,
And punched.
The entirety of the island was quiet, Wilson's fist connecting with the boulder and doing nothing. Until it exploded, sending chunks of rocks flying outward, knocking the others on their butts, and leaving behind a Wilson completely confused by his actions.
"... Okay then." Was all that he said before he went to stare at his hands in awe.
"Great, it's this thing." Maxwell just rubbed his forehead out of frustration, while the others looked on in awe at the sight. "I was hoping that it had left with that mumbling maniac, but here it is again ready to ruin the game balance of this place."
"Watcha going on about, Max?" Winona asked him.
"Indeed, explain yöurself, and what this means för us. My mind is racing with the pösibilities this brings!" Wigfrid looked absolutely enthralled, a gleam in her eye.
"It's called a critical hit. One of my earlier captures had it as a natural ability. It completely ruined the careful balance of difficulty I created for this world, constantly getting lucky hits on monsters and utterly steamrolling anything I sent after it. A horribly unbalanced power to have, right there. It just ruins your day when you think you have them dead to rights, ready to land a killing blow, and then the "to be dead" peasant just swings a stick at the beast and gets a critical hit. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to witness that? At least with these drinks you have a choice in the matter, a small chance to screw up and die fair and square. No luck involved, just pure, strategic planning and skill rather than dumb luck."
Maxwell stopped to take a breath from his rant, and noticed the looks of concern everyone was giving him. He didn't like that they were doing it, but they were doing it. "You done there, buddy?" Winona asked him.
"Grrr, yes. I guess I should apologize for the outburst, or something along those lines."
"No, that seemed warranted. You get a pass for that." Wilson waved it off. "Besides, your apologies always sound weird, I'd rather not hear it." That got him a glare, but he ignored it as he always did. "Still though, this is quite the discovery. There should be enough in that machine to last us for an entire year."
"True, but höw can we knöw if this is the true extent of the beverages pöwer? We önly tested it ön a mere stöne." Wigfrid pointed out. Wilson nodded in agreement, and hummed in thought about any potential ways to test the miracle beverage's true power. He snapped his fingers.
"Is Antlion still around?"
She was, currently in her domain in the desert, which she had either not realized or didn't care had been turfed over with cobblestones. She was in the middle of dozing off when all of a sudden, a small mime man came walking through the storm, approaching her. Probably here to give her offerings to cool her inevitably rising wrath.
And what do you know, he gave her a nice trinket to chew on. She grabbed it off his hands, ignoring the devilish smile on his face as he poorly hid a ham bat behind his back, and chewed on the deliciously chilled stone she recei-
No matter how many times they did it, the Antlion never learned her lesson as she was once again frozen over by the hyper-cooled thermal stone. Wes turned to give a thumbs up to the others who were standing a safe distance away, ready to intervene should things go south. All but one gave a thumbs-up back, Maxwell being his usual grumpy self. He was going to have to shove some rocks in his dresser for that.
Regardless, he was wasting time. He took out a can of Crit a Cola, pulled the tab open, and guzzled the sugary drink down. He felt the radioactive power coursing through his veins, and the ham bat startled crackling with energy.
Antlion shook herself out of her frozen, now royally miffed by this mime peasants indignancy. Oh, she was going to stab him so hard with sand spikes right now.
She never got to do anything even remotely violent. Wes rushed forward and struck her. One, two, three, four!
Antlion stayed frozen in place for a moment, staring off into space with a pained expression.
And then she exploded.
Charlie, sitting on her magnificent and tastefully decorated throne, oversaw her world. She was busy watching the goings ons in the desert, specifically the group's current messing about with a strange machine that had fallen into the Constant. She was hoping Wilson would have done the smart thing and made Maxwell test out the drink. She liked Wilson, he was her favorite. But he was also an idiot with no self preservation sense.
But then they got Wes to kill Antlion in four hits.
She was gaping at the sight, reaching over to grasp thin air several times. A glass of wine, nothing high quality, just generic brand stuff, materialized in her hand, and she went and took a sip from it.
Then she spat it out.
Oh, this would not do. This would not do at all.
[hr]
"This changes everything!" Wilson was the happiest man in the Constant today. Quite the rare event. "With this, we could take down the likes of Klaus and Bee Queen in seconds! Nothing is an actual threat to us. Oh! But there's only a month's supply in that thing. We'd need to figure out how to reproduce it in a sustainable quantity. I must head back to my lab!"
"This is idiotic." Maxwell was the grumpiest man in the Constant today. Not a rare event. "I worked hard on this place. Sure, Charlie is in charge now, but I created everything before her. She just had to rebalance everything and add some new things. But I built the foundation on which her world stands! This completely ruins the difficulty of the challenge. It makes everything pointlessly easy. I swear, no one appreciates a proper challenge these days."
"I'm incredibly disgusted in myself to say that I agree with you, Maxy."
Maxwell did not jump several feet in the air while letting out a high-pitched, girlish scream when Charlie suddenly materialized behind him. No, he calmly turned around, looked at the nightmare queen fearfully, and maintained his dignity throughout it all.
"Damnit, Max,another carrat scurry up yer pant leg again?" Winona heard his girlish scream and turned around to be annoyed at him. She froze when she saw her sister, current dark queen of the Constant, give her an awkward wave. "Charlie?"
"Oh, hello, Winny. How are things? I'm doing pretty good myself, outside of this whole little game balance ruining situation you happen to be involved in right now. It makes me puke in my mouth every time I say it, but Maxwell has a point, this simply can't do at all."
She snapped her fingers, and a bunch of shadow hands were summoned at her side. Cradled in their hands was the vending machine, and a gentleman scientist hugging said machine in fear. The hands gently pried him off and set him down next to Charlie, who kindly dusted him off and made sure his hair was all right.
"Oh, thank you." Wilson said, frazzled and confused. "What's going on right now? I was busy checking the machine before I got kidnapped again."
"Oh, nothing you should worry yourself over. I just need to get rid of this thing before it starts causing actual problems."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, now slow down there, sis. We found this thing fair and square. It showed up in here, Wolfgang fished it up, Wilson tested it and didn't die. I say that's enough for us to earn the right ta keep it. Am I right or am I right?" Winona, shaking off the awkwardness of her sister showing up all of a sudden, stepped forward. Corrupted by some monstrous darkness beyond her comprehension or not, she wasn't going to let her younger sibling get one up over her.
"Y-y-y-yah! Is-tiny handy lady is right!" Wolfgang piped up from his hiding place behind Wes, intimidated by Charlie. Wes nodded along with him, sweating bullets.
"Indeed. If thöu wishes tö take öur hard earned prize, thöu will have to pry it fröm öur cöld dead hands." Wigfrid pulled out her spear, threatening to start stabbing.
Charlie playfully hummed, a devilish smile painting her face as she pretended to think. "Hmm, all good points, my dear sister. But here's the catch, I'm the powerful sister here, so you've got no say in this." She delivered that in a sing-songy voice, dancing in place a bit.
"No fair! I'm older than you by several years now, and I've got more muscle than you!" Winona responded indignantly.
"And I'm the queen of darkness. Ya can't do shit against that." Charlie gave her sister a tooth-baring grin. She snapped her fingers, and the shadow hands sank into the ground, dragging the vending machine and its drinks of power down with it. Gone forever, never to be used again.
A chorus of disappointment came from everyone, Winona kicking the dirt and glaring at Charlie, Wigfrid falling to her knees, Wes crying imaginary tears mixed with real tears, Wolfgang looking at the ground in disappointment.
"I was gonna do science with those things." Wilson was the saddest of them all, the disappointment in his voice so thick you could choke on it.
"Oh, there's plenty of things to science with around these parts, don't you worry your pretty little hair about it." She patted him on the head to cheer him up. "But now that this is over, I'll be going back to the throne. I'll let this whole incident slide, so no surprise Bearger attacks at the start of Autumn. Have fun, sleep well, don't starve, I love you all, I hate your ugly face Maxwell, byeee!" And she disappeared in a puff of smoke, back to being an untouchable overseer.
An awkward silence befell the group. A taste of power ripped away from them in only a few hours. That had to be a record somewhere. Now they had to continue struggling the regular way.
"Ah, thank goodness." Maxwell was relieved. "Now everything is back to normal, and my hard work is left unmarred by bullshit game mechanics. I feel quite relieved, actually."
Winona walked up to him, flicked him on the forehead, then walked back to camp, muttering about how "being nightmare queen doesn't apply to sibling rules" under her breath. Wigfrid and Wolfgang were downcast as they followed after her, while Wes stopped briefly to glare at him before joining his friends.
"What? I worked hard on this place. You'd understand if you'd ever bother to make something to feel prideful over."
Wilson walked up to his side, looking depressed at his chance for science being ripped away so cruelly from his arms. Maxwell rolled his eyes at the sight. Honestly, did no one here appreciate game balance?