Meet HIM!
Rogue77: Heh, I saw that role and I couldn't get Xavier out of my head. I thought it was pretty funny.
Rahneman: Wow, you are the first person to say they've actually seen that movie! Umm…forgive me my naiveté, and ignorance, but what does TTFN mean?
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The room of the caretaker is full of weapons, axes, handcuffs, scythes and various instruments of complete and utter horror. Luger and Colt listen intently to the warden's words of warning.
Julian: *wearing white warden's clothes, which do not fit very well, as he is eleven and the suit is for someone who is twenty five* You know the rules. Do not touch the glass. Do not hand him any sharp instruments, power tools, sewing material, or condiments.
John: Say condiments again, that's just too cute to watch.
Julian: *glare* Wierdo.
John: I object to that!
Julian: *ahem* *unlocks prison doors* Make sure you stay to the left when you walk down the hall. He's in the last cell.
They heed his words well, but when the warden turns, he realizes something.
Julian: The right! I meant stay to the right!
Luger swiftly beats off some guy that has a chokehold on Colt.
John: I swear he did that on purpose.
Julian: I didn't do anything.
The two lone cops walk down the hall, passing such cells as Mike Tyson, Leona Helmsley, Halim's mini-mart (a temporary facility), and stop at the last cell, where a trussed up furry blue man is strapped to a cart. His face is masked, and the room is decorated with child like drawings.
Dr.Leacher (Hank) : Unhi migh fantom.
Scott: What?
Hank: Unhi migh fantom.
John: Papa?
Hank: Unhi migh fantom.
Scott: Is it a code? Some obscure foreign language?
Hank: *tries to move over, upsets his harness and falls down* AHHHHHH!
Scott: Ouch.
John: Hunh. So this is Mr.-screw-with-your-brain-eat-your-spleen-wear-your-flesh-as-a-hairnet-Leacher. He doesn't look so tough. Well, look who's Mr. Scaredy-pants now!
Hank: *leaps up without restraints*
John: AHHHH!
Hank: *pulls off mask* Of all the roles…
Rahne: Don't make me pull out the ruler.
Hank: *sigh* Mother wanted so much more of me. Identification, please.
The cops pull out their badges.
Hank: Closer.
The cops move closer together.
Hank: Closer.
They stretch out their hands to put the badges closer to the glass.
Hank: Please, sit.
The cops sit down in chairs that appear to have been built out of thin air.
Forge: Thank you, I know I'm good.
Scott: Dr. Leacher, we need to ask som-
Hank: There's someone…out there again…Isn't there? A bad boy with pastries.
Logan: *snicker*
Hank:*glare*
Rahne: GET OFF THE STAGE!
Logan: I'm goin' shrimp, I'm goin'.
Scott: Yes!
Hank: *stops Luger from continuing and sniffs the air* High Karate. You wear that sometimes, don't you. But not *sniff* today. *sniff* Today, it's *sniff* Menthalated DP Brown. You order chef's salad with dressing on the side. You have an attractive young wife, a nine year old son and a sixteen year old daughter.
Scott: Who told you that?!
Hank: I saw the picture in your wallet when you showed me your badge.
Scott:….Oh.
John: We came here to talk about cookies. That sounded weird.
Rahne: Shut up. Say your lines.
Hank: Quid pro quo, Mr. Colt.
John: What's that supposed to mean?!
Hank: It means I'm pretentious. Tell me about the worst meal you've ever eaten Mr. Colt.
John: Uh…
Hank: Quick!
John: uh, it was a fish sandwich, at a-
Scott: Don't tell him anything! Now can you help us?
Hank: You hold the key, Mr. Colt.
John: Where? *looks at his pockets.*
Hank: Not that kind of key. Look inside yourself for an answer to the cookie concern. Look to a man with who you were involved.
Colt's mind flashbacked to a time when he walked on the beach with a man in a skull and crossbones shirt.
Hank:No no, not him, It was in Vietnam.
Again, Colt thought back to a time where he ran onto the beach with a man, this time Vietnamese.
Sunfire: I object to this!
Rahne: WHO THE HECK ARE YOU!?
Sunfire: Uh…oops. No one, I just jumped into the
wrong story. Bye.
Hank: Hmm. All, right, where was I? Oh yes. No, no, you disappoint me, Mr. Colt. It was Mortars. General Mortars.
John: Wait! I never –
Hank: I didn't mean that kind of involvement.
John: I was never in any involvement! At all!
Rahne:…really?
John: I hate this parody!
Hank: We all have to suffer. You were under his command, were you not? Mortars was a patient of mine, I taught him, not to internalize his anger, to express it freely.
John: You taught him well.
Hank: Quite. After our last session he started the Vietnamese war. Seek him out. And, when you find him, tell him I would love to eat his cookies. With some fava beans and a nice, chilled fresca. *licks his lips. A lot.*
The two cops, learning what they needed, get up to leave. But Colt stalls for a moment.
John: I just gotta ask. What does human flesh taste like?
Hank: Chicken.
Rahne: And that's a wrap! Great shot everybody!
John: First time she thanked us.
Scott: First time for everything.
Rahne: SHUT UP OR YOU DO THE NEXT SCENE IN BRIGHT PINK TIGHTS!
Scott: Eep.
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Well, sorry for the lull in updating, but at least it's sooner than when I updated the fourth chapter!
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