An Excel Saga Fanfic
How do you parody a parody?
By PD Wright
Disclaimer: Something borrowed, nothing owned.
At the magnificent hideout of Il-Palaza, the self same commander of the ideological
organization ACROSS was reading over some papers, and making fairly unhappy
noises. His bishonen face was also looking decidly unhappy.
He looked up.
"Hail, IlPalaza!" Said his two agents, a hyper blond in white, and a rather anemic brunet
in red. They raised their arms in salute, and beamed.
"Ahh.. All here, then? Good. Excel!"
"Yes sir!" said the blonde, for her name just happened to be Excel. "I await your command
like all good people of this city, for the lord Il Palaza will conquer this city, and then.."
"Yes, yes," Il Palaza interrupted, "I know all that. I have your assignment."
"I am ready, sir!"
"Good! Do you see this?" He handed her the pieces of paper.
"What is.. to kill a manga artist?'"
"Yes. It is a piece of fan written fiction. It would not be bad, except.."
"AAAAHHHH!!! It's got US in here!" Excel screamed.
Hyatt looked over her shoulder, Blood occasionally falling from her mouth.
"Yes. It is a fan-written story, featuring us. That would be no big deal, save that
the author has made us the stupidest of characters."
Hyatt, pausing to cough another bucket of blood, said: "Oh, my. And I only get a small
amount of screen time."
"Yes. For this crime against nature, Excel, you are to assassinate the fan fiction author,
one PD Wright, aged early 30's, no occupation. Alias The Blue Mask, Tuxedo Shades,
Dimstyle, Inspector Dim, The Great Train Robber, and many others."
"Ooh. Sounds like a worthless loser!" Excel said.
"Yes. You're assignment.. Terminate him."
"Yes sir! None will survive my wrath! ."
"And I, sir?" Hyatt asked.
"You, Hyatt, can assist me in my paperwork."
"Hail Il Palaza!"
a Desert. Red, with the burning sun high overhead. All along the horizon, a bleached blue sky
hung
heavy with wispy clouds. Off a rarely used road, a trailer.
It's glinting grey sides reflected the bleached sun in beams of tarnished light. A logo, painted
crudely on the side, two letters: NS.
Inside, a tv blared about a nation declaring war on it's neighbor. In other words, the same old
story. The same old song and dance. A hand reached down, flicked a button on the front of the
tv, it flickered out of life. The owner of the hand then sat on a couch, a bottle of liquor in
his hand.
Nabeshin sat there, fuming. He stared at the papers on his table, then with a quick motion,
got up, strode into the next room, and opened a freezer. From it, he extracted a gun, and
several boxes of shells. He filled his pockets, turned, nodded to a figure in the next room,
and exited. From the next room, a voice said:
"I knew my soup would get him."
An apartment. Two girls sat on the floor, eyes closed. A sad-eyed little dog watched them,
warily, expecting any moment for one of them to get up off the floor and attempt to eat her.
Excel sat there. Her brow furried, a drop of sweat falling, her eyes clenched shut.
Hyatt sat opposite, her eyes shut, a drop of blood falling slowly from her mouth.
Menchi eyed them warily, as, again, she was worried about surviving the evening.
Suddenly, the two girls reacted. Excel fell back, her breathing heavy. She smirked.
Hyatt also fell back.. and kept going. She hit the ground heavily, blood falling from her mouth
in waterfall waves. Excel watched her partner in alarm.
"Oi, Hat-chan.. yer not dead 'gain, are ya..?"
A steam room. Two girls sat on the floor. Two DIFFERENT girls, by the way.
One was rubbing oil onto the other, in ways that usually only happened in fanfics or soft core
flicks. One was the android, Roppon Matsu, the first. She was applying a generous helping of
skin lotion to the other, one Misaki Matsuya, who looked great in the towel now draped over
her, and rather annoyed at the turns this story had taken.
"Oi, Roppon?" she said, her husky voice echoing around the steamy chamber.
"Hai, Matsuya-san?" the android replied, still continuing her work.
"Tell me again why this scene exist in this story?"
"Well, from what I understand, the Doctor thought this story could use a touch of yuri."
Silence between them. The fog seemed to thicken a moment, hiding little Roppon Matsu the
second,
who was there, well, trying despretly to get a cameo. Misaki finally shrugged, said:
"I don't see what the Dirty Pair have to do with this.."
Secrety Momochi approached the Doctor's office door. She paused, all set to knock on the door,
her creepily smiling face turned down, as scarlet spilled from the office beyond.
"That can mean only two things" she thought, "Either an enemy of the Doctor's has gotten in and
assassinated him, or.."
"Or he's watching Matsuya in the shower again."
She turned, started to walk off.
"And for his sake, I hope it's the first."
Excel stood outside an apartment. The full moon shone on her, as barking dogs filled shadows.
She stared at the long door. Then, with a smirk, she opened it, carefully.
"Ahh.. The fiend is near."
She crept inside, slipping from shadow to shadow, as red and blue shades hid her from
whatever cared to watch. She slipped toward a room. On the walls, posters.
Most from horror movies of the last few decades. One wall, a large poster of Sailor Saturn.
Another, the Sailor Senshi. She nearly tripped over a large bound volume of Lovecraft.
Around her, rock albums spilled from crates like confetti. She turned her cute nose up at the
music. She crept closer, opened the door.
Inside, the figure sat. hunched over a computer, it typed at a furious pace, momentarily pausing
to stare into space before typing again. She smiled.
She let the door close with a thud. The figure spun, stared at her warily.
"Who..?"
"Ah. So you are the famous bad spelling writer, eh? Prepare to meet thy doom."
"Do I know you?"
She looked deflated. Anger swelled up, she said:
"Idiot! I am the person you so recently insulted in your work!"
"Sailor Saturn?"
"No!"
"Umm.. The Flame of Recca cast?"
"NO!"
"Er.."
"I am Excel! Prepare.."
"Oh, yeah, you!"
"Yes! Prepare to meet thy doom!"
Suddenly the door flew open, and Nabeshin stood, framed in the light of the room beyond.
"Not so fast!" he said.
"Why not," asked the writer.
"Never mind! Looks like a caught you at the scene of the crime. It's time for vengeance,
Nabeshin-fu style!"
"Not so fast!" said another voice, suddenly.
"Why.."
"Quite! I, Koshi Rikudo, have given no authorization for any of this! Justice will be mine to
deliver."
Nabeshin turned, a glint in his eye.
"So, Rikudo, we meet a last!"
"No, Nabeshin, we meet at first!"
"Shadup. Stop quoting RHPS lines, and lets get down to it!"
"As you say!"
They sped towards each other, fist outstretched, Nabeshin's Afro trailing in the wind.
And the fighting took off.
"Um.. Can I get on with my assignment, already?" Excel asked. She pulled her sword out,
aimed it at the author's head.
"Prepare to meet thy end!"
PD Wright slumped down, onto the floor. His head hung in dejection.
"What? Stand up and fight, coward!"
"Why should I?"
"Huh?"
"What difference does it make? If your gonna kill me, what's the point?"
"Look, you.."
A gunshot rang out. Blood splattered the desk like a scarlet wine. Nabeshin stood there, a pistol
smoking in his hand.
"Why did you do that?" Excel yelled, her frame quivering.
"Well, you were taking too long, Excel. Justice needed to be done."
Rikudo hit him from behind with a ruler, and the fight took off again. They burst thru the wall,
into the shadowy side street, and vanished down the way.
Excel watched this, a sweat drop falling from her cute head.
"All that, for one bad writer.." she said.
She exited into the night, humming about her Il Palaza...
And to all, a good night.
C&C welcome, and all that.
How do you parody a parody?
By PD Wright
Disclaimer: Something borrowed, nothing owned.
At the magnificent hideout of Il-Palaza, the self same commander of the ideological
organization ACROSS was reading over some papers, and making fairly unhappy
noises. His bishonen face was also looking decidly unhappy.
He looked up.
"Hail, IlPalaza!" Said his two agents, a hyper blond in white, and a rather anemic brunet
in red. They raised their arms in salute, and beamed.
"Ahh.. All here, then? Good. Excel!"
"Yes sir!" said the blonde, for her name just happened to be Excel. "I await your command
like all good people of this city, for the lord Il Palaza will conquer this city, and then.."
"Yes, yes," Il Palaza interrupted, "I know all that. I have your assignment."
"I am ready, sir!"
"Good! Do you see this?" He handed her the pieces of paper.
"What is.. to kill a manga artist?'"
"Yes. It is a piece of fan written fiction. It would not be bad, except.."
"AAAAHHHH!!! It's got US in here!" Excel screamed.
Hyatt looked over her shoulder, Blood occasionally falling from her mouth.
"Yes. It is a fan-written story, featuring us. That would be no big deal, save that
the author has made us the stupidest of characters."
Hyatt, pausing to cough another bucket of blood, said: "Oh, my. And I only get a small
amount of screen time."
"Yes. For this crime against nature, Excel, you are to assassinate the fan fiction author,
one PD Wright, aged early 30's, no occupation. Alias The Blue Mask, Tuxedo Shades,
Dimstyle, Inspector Dim, The Great Train Robber, and many others."
"Ooh. Sounds like a worthless loser!" Excel said.
"Yes. You're assignment.. Terminate him."
"Yes sir! None will survive my wrath! ."
"And I, sir?" Hyatt asked.
"You, Hyatt, can assist me in my paperwork."
"Hail Il Palaza!"
a Desert. Red, with the burning sun high overhead. All along the horizon, a bleached blue sky
hung
heavy with wispy clouds. Off a rarely used road, a trailer.
It's glinting grey sides reflected the bleached sun in beams of tarnished light. A logo, painted
crudely on the side, two letters: NS.
Inside, a tv blared about a nation declaring war on it's neighbor. In other words, the same old
story. The same old song and dance. A hand reached down, flicked a button on the front of the
tv, it flickered out of life. The owner of the hand then sat on a couch, a bottle of liquor in
his hand.
Nabeshin sat there, fuming. He stared at the papers on his table, then with a quick motion,
got up, strode into the next room, and opened a freezer. From it, he extracted a gun, and
several boxes of shells. He filled his pockets, turned, nodded to a figure in the next room,
and exited. From the next room, a voice said:
"I knew my soup would get him."
An apartment. Two girls sat on the floor, eyes closed. A sad-eyed little dog watched them,
warily, expecting any moment for one of them to get up off the floor and attempt to eat her.
Excel sat there. Her brow furried, a drop of sweat falling, her eyes clenched shut.
Hyatt sat opposite, her eyes shut, a drop of blood falling slowly from her mouth.
Menchi eyed them warily, as, again, she was worried about surviving the evening.
Suddenly, the two girls reacted. Excel fell back, her breathing heavy. She smirked.
Hyatt also fell back.. and kept going. She hit the ground heavily, blood falling from her mouth
in waterfall waves. Excel watched her partner in alarm.
"Oi, Hat-chan.. yer not dead 'gain, are ya..?"
A steam room. Two girls sat on the floor. Two DIFFERENT girls, by the way.
One was rubbing oil onto the other, in ways that usually only happened in fanfics or soft core
flicks. One was the android, Roppon Matsu, the first. She was applying a generous helping of
skin lotion to the other, one Misaki Matsuya, who looked great in the towel now draped over
her, and rather annoyed at the turns this story had taken.
"Oi, Roppon?" she said, her husky voice echoing around the steamy chamber.
"Hai, Matsuya-san?" the android replied, still continuing her work.
"Tell me again why this scene exist in this story?"
"Well, from what I understand, the Doctor thought this story could use a touch of yuri."
Silence between them. The fog seemed to thicken a moment, hiding little Roppon Matsu the
second,
who was there, well, trying despretly to get a cameo. Misaki finally shrugged, said:
"I don't see what the Dirty Pair have to do with this.."
Secrety Momochi approached the Doctor's office door. She paused, all set to knock on the door,
her creepily smiling face turned down, as scarlet spilled from the office beyond.
"That can mean only two things" she thought, "Either an enemy of the Doctor's has gotten in and
assassinated him, or.."
"Or he's watching Matsuya in the shower again."
She turned, started to walk off.
"And for his sake, I hope it's the first."
Excel stood outside an apartment. The full moon shone on her, as barking dogs filled shadows.
She stared at the long door. Then, with a smirk, she opened it, carefully.
"Ahh.. The fiend is near."
She crept inside, slipping from shadow to shadow, as red and blue shades hid her from
whatever cared to watch. She slipped toward a room. On the walls, posters.
Most from horror movies of the last few decades. One wall, a large poster of Sailor Saturn.
Another, the Sailor Senshi. She nearly tripped over a large bound volume of Lovecraft.
Around her, rock albums spilled from crates like confetti. She turned her cute nose up at the
music. She crept closer, opened the door.
Inside, the figure sat. hunched over a computer, it typed at a furious pace, momentarily pausing
to stare into space before typing again. She smiled.
She let the door close with a thud. The figure spun, stared at her warily.
"Who..?"
"Ah. So you are the famous bad spelling writer, eh? Prepare to meet thy doom."
"Do I know you?"
She looked deflated. Anger swelled up, she said:
"Idiot! I am the person you so recently insulted in your work!"
"Sailor Saturn?"
"No!"
"Umm.. The Flame of Recca cast?"
"NO!"
"Er.."
"I am Excel! Prepare.."
"Oh, yeah, you!"
"Yes! Prepare to meet thy doom!"
Suddenly the door flew open, and Nabeshin stood, framed in the light of the room beyond.
"Not so fast!" he said.
"Why not," asked the writer.
"Never mind! Looks like a caught you at the scene of the crime. It's time for vengeance,
Nabeshin-fu style!"
"Not so fast!" said another voice, suddenly.
"Why.."
"Quite! I, Koshi Rikudo, have given no authorization for any of this! Justice will be mine to
deliver."
Nabeshin turned, a glint in his eye.
"So, Rikudo, we meet a last!"
"No, Nabeshin, we meet at first!"
"Shadup. Stop quoting RHPS lines, and lets get down to it!"
"As you say!"
They sped towards each other, fist outstretched, Nabeshin's Afro trailing in the wind.
And the fighting took off.
"Um.. Can I get on with my assignment, already?" Excel asked. She pulled her sword out,
aimed it at the author's head.
"Prepare to meet thy end!"
PD Wright slumped down, onto the floor. His head hung in dejection.
"What? Stand up and fight, coward!"
"Why should I?"
"Huh?"
"What difference does it make? If your gonna kill me, what's the point?"
"Look, you.."
A gunshot rang out. Blood splattered the desk like a scarlet wine. Nabeshin stood there, a pistol
smoking in his hand.
"Why did you do that?" Excel yelled, her frame quivering.
"Well, you were taking too long, Excel. Justice needed to be done."
Rikudo hit him from behind with a ruler, and the fight took off again. They burst thru the wall,
into the shadowy side street, and vanished down the way.
Excel watched this, a sweat drop falling from her cute head.
"All that, for one bad writer.." she said.
She exited into the night, humming about her Il Palaza...
And to all, a good night.
C&C welcome, and all that.