Disclaimer: Must I? Must I really? *reads cue card* Ok, fine. I do not own SC2 and I bet someone's patented plot bunnies...I own nothing. *sobs*

90% of Reviewers: Thanks again. Being new here, it is indeed nice to get honest (hopefully) and encouraging feedback. Thank you all once again. Two of the reviewers are 'friends' of mine outside of this site, so there reviews may merely be sympathetic (yeah, right). Rurouni KJS, may I extend special thanks to you for your review. The only reason I say this is because I had the great pleasure of reading your 2 Soul Calibur spoofs recently and was knocked from my preverbal chair, so to speak. I must admit, I don't write comedy half as well as most others.

Nami + Lily: Would you please elaborate on your views? If my fanfic offends, do not hesitate to make a competent, well thought-out argument against it, since your review did not enlighten me. I fail to understand. Do go on....really...If there is some reasonable thing that you want, do not wait to make your opinion known.

Author's note: This Chapter will be rife with spelling and/or grammatical errors but, as I have said, there is a reason to my madness (and a helluva lot of madness in my reason) so bear with me. Someday I might actually right a serious fanfic (have a few in the works) and then I DARE YOU TO FIND SPELLING ERRORS IN THAT! HAHA!

CHAPTER 4 – WHAT COMES OF STEREOTYPES

Stereotypes are bad, this fact is certain. Also, Stereotypes are rarely true (except in the case of Italians, which I mentioned earlier). Unfortunately, plot bunnies and their sick sense of humor do so love stereotyping. So, those who come in contact with plot bunnies may run the risk of being duped into becoming a living, breathing, walking, bathing, eating, killing, and gouging stereotype. I warn ye! The faint of heart (or those who are easily offended by stereotypes) should leave now!

Somewhere in Northern Africa...stuff was happening...mildly interesting stuff.

Beware of a blatant disregard for character development. It lies within. Be wary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Isabella Valentine, more formerly known as 'Ivy' (well, there are other names that cannot be mentioned) and Raphael de Sorel, sometimes affectionately dubbed 'Raph' (yup, you get the idea) were in the middle of a stressful, tense, annoying, irritating, and rather painful situation.

That situation had a name...and, for lack of a better name, the name of the situation was a very annoyed one-armed pogo-stick-leaping mostly insane ninja by the name of Yoshimitsu.

"Namu!" roared the eccentric warrior as he charged forward.

(Now, for clarification, Yoshimitsu had no idea why he charged, he just did. Raphael and Ivy didn't know what they were doing in a remote European outpost in northern Africa [which is where they are if my geography skills survived the last war]. There are a lot of things unknown in this world...from now on, I, the author, will make it my duty to find out...later)

Raphael nimbly sidestepped.

"Is it really necessary for you to say that all the time?" he said glumly.

The ninja, who had missed his target, turned back to the Frenchman. He did not reply to the glib comment, but one could hear a groan of "Namu" from beneath his mask. Also, if that mask had not been present, one would've seen an incredibly annoyed looking Yoshimitsu.

He charged again, a little more composed this time. The ninja pounced...a little too late. Ivy's twisting, physically impossible blade/whip cut him off rudely.

Yoshimitsu slammed into the floor with a resounding crunch (or was it a resounding "Namu?" we'll never know, will we?). He jumped up in an instant, possibly scowling beneath his mask, or maybe just picking his nose with his tongue...but that's another story.

"Stupid oaf," laughed Ivy, momentarily captivating her opponent, "How could you possibly be stupid enough to challenge me?"

Raphael gestured with his rapier, "Umm..Ivy...You just called him stupid, which rather implies that he is stupid. So you're question doesn't make much sense."

"It was RHETORICAL, you idiot!" snapped the Englishwoman, turning her head from the one-armed figure who was gliding nimbly towards her...for all of two seconds.

She didn't notice the ninja changing his course to fly at her.

Luckily, everything froze at about that second and the familiar blinding light covered everything. Ivy heard a loud noise and assumed it was Yoshimitsu hitting the floor again...or possibly firing his mechanical arm at Raphael like some bizarre appendage-torpedo of death (Some kind of Arm- Shooting-Slasher...which can be abbreviated as A.S.S., in case you want to know).

And there was that voice again. Raphael, Yoshimitsu, and Ivy had never heard it before, but I'm sure all you readers are getting quite sick of the adorable rhyming by now.

"No more fighting, do be quiet, that's so very impoli-et.

Listen to what I must say and you may go your merry way."

Raphael rubbed his eyes, Ivy rubbed her eyes, and Yoshimitsu rubbed his arm.

"What trickery is this!" cried the ninja, actually saying something besides "Namu."

"No trick here, my frenchie friend, nothing but some flesh to rend

Ivy, Raph, watch your tone, with you I must pick a bone

You two heed France and England's call, yet you pay them no heed at all.

You've twisted other worldly views of your fair nations, whose are whose.

So from now on don't be so dumb, act like you're from where you are from

Stereotypes are bunny stuff, so on you I bestow them..."

Suddenly realizing that he hadn't rhymed, the bunny promptly added "Fluff" to the phrase. Raphael and Ivy just looked at each other, befuddled and somehow very, very nervous.

Neither of them could see anything because of the blinding pink.

"Wha' the bloody hell d'ya think 'e was talkin' about?" said Isabella Valentine. Her voice registered in her ears, but it did not click until a minute had passed that she sounded like a drunkard from the slums of London..."Oh bloody hell!"

"Oui, oui, zat's very odd, don' you tink?" said Raphael, in a stunningly perfect yet somehow horribly tainted French accent. "Ah merde! What is zis zat has come uver me?! Oh la la, zis is so horrible! My accente...it is...French!"

"Oh, that's bloody fine for you, gov. At least you're not talkin' like some bloody twit. I can still understand ye, despite tha' goddamned accent ye've got there." Ivy laughed a most manly laugh, which was not particularly good, since she was a woman.

"Oh, you shut upp! I 'ave add enuff of your insults, you snooty English pig- dog!"

"Blimey, you've got a little mouth on you, ye have!" chortled Ivy.

The world slowly came into focus.....(damn camera lense!)

Raucous laughter, to which they had been previously unaware of, filled the room. The two semi-altered warriors turned to see Yoshimitsu.

Now, Yoshimitsu does look pretty strange, I must admit. But, his vast strangeness was nothing compared to what Raphael and Ivy were staring at. Both warriors groaned again (Note: for those of you who like detail, Ivy's groan was something to the effect of "Blimey, that's quite a...a...whateva the 'ell that is," and Raphael's was, almost exactly, "Oh 'eavens to betsy! Holy merde, that is...C'est tres interessante.")

Standing in front of them was Yoshimitsu. The fact that he was wearing a straightjacket was not, in fact, the thing that had caused Raphael and Ivy to stare. I'm afraid I cannot specifically say what they were staring at, since the rating of this fanfic would fly through the roof, but you will figure it out in time.

"Wha' are you laughin' at, you bloody twit!?" roared the Englishwoman.

"You!" shrieked the ninja at the top of his lungs.

"Vat about us, monsieur!? What iz so funny?"

"Just....just...you...oh, I think I'm having a heart-attack!" Yoshimitsu collapsed on the floor of the room, laughing so hard he could've exploded in an unsavory blast of banana cream pie.

"WHAT!" roared both warriors opposite him.

Raphael and Ivy turned to each other, seeing each other in detail for the first time.

The Frenchman, the noble Raphael de Sorel of France was garbed (very nobly) in an outfit that looked like a truly perverted visage of Napoleon. His chest had puffed out, his hand was permanently stuck in his irremovable military waistcoat (so pink you could vomit, you know the drill, RIGHT?). These things were all very silly, but the silliest of all may have been the one thing that Ivy was not looking at, but had the great misfortune to see when Raphael turned slightly.

"YE'VE GOT THE BLOODY FRENCH FLAG ON YER....yer...yer..." she stopped talking, thinking better of it.

"Well, madame fancy pointy-outy-all-my-shortcomings pants, you 'ave got ze flag of England on your...your...your..." he also paused, staring at the section of Ivy that lay nestled between her neck and belly while Ivy kept her gaze fixed on the area between Raphael's hips and knees from the rear.

"It's....so...hilarious!" bellowed the ninja.

"So what? Ye've got three...three...ye've got three....on yer chest...ye've got..."

She gave up on talking altogether as the world went pink.

No, wait, the world went BLACK! I said black, I did! You all heard me!

Ok, I'm lying. It was pink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stay tuned for Chapter 5 – Follow the Yellow-Brick Toad, Coming Soon This one may not be up till Saturday. It might be up tomorrow, but that's unlikely.