srehtorb hsams nwo t'ond I
Mewtwo was humming an opera piece he recently listened to the other day. While, humming he was brewing a cup of English tea.
He poured the contents of the boiling kettle into his cup and dipped in the tea bag.
He sat on a leather chair, reclined it, and turned on the television.
He turned to the news broad cast.
"…thus bringing the latest 'tickle-me-Kirby' fatality total to 5000."
"Tom," asked his co-anchor "was any of that true."
A long silence between the two occurred. Finally, Tom's head bowed in shame.
"No, none of it is true. I just wanted to be big-shot, that's all."
He walks off screen, sniffling, and while still on the air.
Diane, bewildered, manages to recover.
"This past week, a mysterious man has been invading local bars, consuming massive quantities of liquor without payment."
Mewtwo nearly lost his grip on his cup of tea.
"He is described as an alcoholic…"
She turns her head off screen.
"Oh, that is just brilliant journalism!" she berated sarcastically, "While we're at it, why don't you F(#)# morons, find out if these bars happen to also serve beer! God, do your degrees mean anything?"
"Diane," said her producer, "we're still on the air."
Diane quickly turned back to the camera, cleared her throat and continued the report.
"The suspect has been known to harass women, particularly of any faith that practices celibacy. His physical description is that of a homeless man. His only distinguishing feature is his red helmet, which has several breaches throughout the topical area."
"I can think of several breaches made to our co-anchor," whispered a stagehand to another.
Diane brought out her brass knuckles.
"You're going to be the corpse for the next CSI!"
He ran screaming as Diane leapt over the table, knocking over the camera. The screen immediately displayed a technical difficulties bulletin.
Mewtwo contemplated the recent news. Apparently, Mr. Tiyamato was correct in his assumptions that the device had a flaw. However, the device should have made it impossible for Falcon to be anything other than the specimen of civility he was at the press conference. He set aside his tea and headed to where Falcon was residing.
Falcon was currently reading a book of poetry by Byron. He looked up and gave a wave of greeting.
"Hello Mewtwo, how may I help you?"
"I need to run some test on the circlet, for I believe the device may have corrupted data."
Falcon nodded and accompanied Mewtwo to the electronics department of the lab.
Mewtwo finished analyzing each section of code from the circlet. It was perfect, as he expected to be. He checked the operating processes of the circlet. Once again, it showed a flawless harmony of engineering and art.
So what was the problem? There can't be two Falcon's running amok in the city. He decided to place a hidden camera in Falcon's sleeping quarters. He also placed on Falcon's helmet.
Now he needed to wait and see.
Mewtwo brewed a cup of tea before checking the recording for the night. Using his telekinesis, he rewound the tape recording, turned on the television, and pushed play.
The first few hours were just of Falcon snoring. Mewtwo forwarded a few hours and pushed play again.
The tape showed Falcon absent from his bed.
Mewtwo pushed rewind, and watched the twisted events that transpired in reverse.
"Huh," thought Mewtwo, amused, "Falcon pulled a Mr. Hyde."
It made sense. The circlet wasn't design to eliminate Falcon's ID, it was design to suppress it. Mewtwo unknowingly compressed a whole day of a boozing, womanizing Falcon into a couple of hours.
Mewtwo paced the lab. A shit storm was on the way. It wouldn't take long to identify Falcon. How many lunatics wore red helmets with a tinted visor? Once they realize a machine was responsible for the redeemed Falcon, his reputation will be in the gutter.
It was time to bail. It was fun, but a genius can only do so much before everything implodes and collapses into a black hole.
He went outside and prepared himself for flight. Immediately, Tiyamato appeared right before him.
"Giving up so easily, Mewtwo?" asked Tiyamato.
Mewtwo regarded him with anger. "What do you want me to do?" He demanded. "There are some aspects of this world that even I cannot change!"
Mr. Tiyamato gestured to him to calm down. "Relax, I have a plan. Though I am sure you will despise it as if it came from the mouth of Giovanni."
After hearing Tiyamato's plan, Mewtwo could not be more shocked if the Nintendo tyrant sprouted a dragonhead and started dancing to Britney Spear's shoddy music.
"Our agreement was that I would restore Falcon's mediocre image." Mewtwo thumbed at his chest, "I remember quite clearly that my dignity was not on the line!"
"You are one of the most powerful psychics, Mewtwo. You can pull this off without anyone knowing it was you."
"Besides," said Tiyamato, eyes glinting with confidence, "would you say no to a professionally subbed DVD collection of Full Metal Alchemist?"
Captain Falcon was not feeling quite content. The booze he had been drinking just made him thirstier. All the women that ran screaming from him did little to help his fledging self-esteem.
If only they gave him a chance. Sure, he was grotesque and his breath could be mistaken for a black dragon's, but he….
He stopped to think. Did he have any good points? He shrugged and continued running around like a manic, searching for a bar.
He found a nightclub that was still running in late this night. It was perfect, booze and women aplenty. He ran towards the entrance, knocked out the bouncer and broke through the door.
The patrons that were dancing to a dance track, stopped screamed in terror when they saw the disheveled and drooling man. He went up to the counter and pounded the counter.
"BOOOOOZZZ-"
"I think it's time for the drunk tank, you blight."
Falcon turned his alcohol-addled mind to the entranceway. He gaped and stuttered in surprise. It was he! He was in the doorway, but it cannot be him, he was at the counter.
There were two Falcons.
The Falcon in the entranceway gestured for the other to come forward. "Why don't we take this outside? We'll see who the real one is."
The Falcon at the counter pounded his chest and charged at his duplicate. He dodged out of the way and started dashing down the street.
They both ended up at a Hollywood premier of Angst Man. One of the reporters was interviewing the director, Rui N. Comik
"So, instead of crafting the movie according to the comic book structure, I decided to take some creative liberties. For instance, Angst Man is not the angst-ridden and engrossing character that people would find fascinating and come to love. I thought it would be best if I did a 180 and transform his outlook on life to a more positive tone as well as make him so shallow, my integrity would have more depth in comparison. I also thought the plot was far too well-constructed; therefore, I just cut it out and replaced it with CG explosions and scantly clad women. Everyone likes that, right?"
At that moment the two Falcons', grappling with each other, crashed into the director. The director landed on poll, which was inexplicably sharpened to a fine point. It pierced his chest and shredded his heart. He pulled himself upwards and waved to everyone.
"I'm okay," he shouted. "It's my least used organ!"
The crowd's attention, however, was concentrated on the two Falcons. One was noble and the other was a slob. Though the noble one was connecting most of his strikes, he was tiring. The slob was so drunk, he couldn't feel much pain. Of course, that did not help his hand to eye coordination.
Both fighters, feeling their strength nearly depleted, coincidentally charged up a Falcon punch. When their fists met, an explosion rocked the gathering crowds. When the smoke cleared, there was only one.
"What happened?" he asked, dazed, "where am I?"
A female entertainment reporter walked up to him and knelt beside him. "You're at the opening of Angst Man," she answered.
Falcon looked her up and down. "Hey babe," he whispered in a husky voice, "wanna do the horizontal dance with me?"
She, and others, promptly started beating him.
