DISCLAIMER: Once upon a time, there was this girl. She was not a very pretty girl, but she owned stuff. Like this one apron for the 50's. Only, that wasn't really hers, it was her mother's. She DID, however, happen to own some pieces of notebook paper, and this really cool pen that can sometimes lights up; mostly when she hit her pencil box on something, and so it would randomly turn on, slowly wasting the pen's batteries, which didn't really matter, since she didn't use the pen anyway. That was because it wrote with blue ink, and she tended to use black. The point of this long, and seemingly pointless story, is despite the fact that she owned a really cool pen that she never used, she did not own Excel Saga. This is a great shame upon her family, and she can no longer face them in public, or anywhere else for that matter.
A/N: Please ignore my Disclaimer. I tend to ramble sometimes, and above is one of these instances. I would like to say that this fanfic is roughly based on the hit 80's movie starring that girl who was in 16 Candles and Pretty In Pink (I can't seem to recall her name at the moment) called The Breakfast Club. There's some stuff randomly thrown in there that isn't really anything like the movie (well, they're probably be some random stuff thrown in there that's not like the movie - - I write my A/Ns before I actually write the…thing, so I don't really know at this point. Although if I end up being wrong I could always go back and delete all of this. But I'm lazy. Too bad.). Hm. I can't seem to find the point to all of this. On with the story then!
OO
Don't You Forget About Me
By A Person You Probably Don't Know In Real Life
OO
"It's okay, son," said the heavily built man to his (obviously) son in the passenger seat. I mean, if it wasn't his son, why would he call him that? Unless he was a crazy hobo. But they don't own cars, so you get my point.
You could tell by his appearance that the father at the wheel was stuck in his glory days as football quarterback - - for only those who are stuck in the glory days on the football team were football quarterbacks. Otherwise it wouldn't be worth wearing the old, faded, too-small-for-the-forty-eight-year-old-man-who-wore-it letter jacket. Which he was wearing, by the way.
"What you did was not as bad as it may seem at the moment," the man said. He also had a comb-over, but such people prefer not to go into such details because the older man had the look of someone who would crush a beer can on your head if you rubbed him the wrong way.
Either that or accuse you of being gay.
His son stared at him blankly.
"It wasn't even my fault…" he said somberly, staring past his father with lost eyes. "It was that Iwata. He was the one…who…came up with the horrible plan!" The son began to shudder, a cold sweat breaking apart over his body at the even mention at his claimed friend's name.
"That Iwata…" he mumbled. "I shall…nay, I WILL kill him…"
His father looked on, a cold sweat slowly started to break upon his face as well, though not for the same reasons as his son. For a moment he wondered if he should tell his son to 'be a man', but decided against it, since the fruit of his loins was accompanying the somewhat womanishly scene with a threat of death upon a friend.
That was always okay in his book.
Unless that one's friend was the president! That was completely and utterly uncalled for, because the president was cool!
Probably.
"Look, Watanabe - - son," the father finally said, leaning upon the steering wheel, "there is no shame in taking part of such actions. It's what boys do - - and you're a boy, aren't you?"
"Ye…" Watanabe began. He stopped for a moment, considering his answer. Then he replied with, "No. I'm not a boy. I'm a MAN." His father grinned, his age showing more clearly for the wrinkles at his eyes and mouth, making the jacket he wore look more ridiculous.
"That's my boy," he said. Watanabe let a smile pass his face for a fraction of a second, then got out of the car.
OO
I 'ant yoo to study and teh lik, sun, said a woman in subtitles in the car that took the place of the Lincoln Navigator once containing Watanabe and his father pulled away. She was someone who was unmistakably recognizable, yet at the same time someone who looked like no one you had ever met.
I jus 'ant to 'no why eye became the Brain and teh lik in this fic, her son, Sumiyoshi, replied in subtitles.
Because you're teh onleh smert person in teh show, said a younger girl next to Sumiyoshi. She looked like a miniature version of her mother; which was pretty much as a female.
A scary family all together.
Sumiyoshi just shook his head and stepped out of the car, calling to Watanabe to wait up for him
All in subtitles, of course.
OO
Iwata stalked across the school cross walk, nearly getting run over by a rather nice car.
Scratch that, reverse it. He did get run over by the car.
A woman, in her mid thirties, flew out of the car and rushed to the body lying on the ground. She was short, with long, wavy brown hair and distinctive green eyes.
"Oh no!" she cried. "Misaki! Dear! It appears we have run over a pedestrian, innocently crossing the road! Quick! Hurry! Dial the police! No, don't call them! You're mother would be arrested, and then sentenced to jail! It would doubt the same one as your father since they separate the men and the women, which would be too bad, because it would be a happy family reunion! Only you would have to be in jail too!"
"Calm down, mother," Misaki said, stepping out of the car, and lightly stepping over Iwata's bleeding body. "You're not making any sense."
Actually, she sort of made a point out of stomping all over the body as she walked by it. But that isn't MY point, so I think we should move on.
"But…shouldn't we help him in someway, at the least?" Misaki's mother asked innocently, her eyes glimmering with a fine mist of tears that would never be shed because Matsuya woman never cry. Not even at the much enjoyed chick flick that was watched on the third Thursday of every month. Not even at weddings, or funerals, or if someone happened to drop a hot poker on their toe, then proceeded to whack it a couple hundred times with a mallet. No, Matsuya women never cry, for that would ruin their much admired reputation of being strong women, much like the Amazons.
"No," Misaki said in answer to her mother's question, still walking towards her school facility-building place.
"Why not?" her mother called meekly, trying to wipe the blood off the grill of the car (how distasteful the other woman at the country club would be if they saw such a thing!).
"Because," Misaki said, turning around, lighting flashing, even though it was a perfectly fine day without a cloud in the sky, "that is Iwata ."
"Oh my…" a voice said meekly from under the wheels of the car, "it appears you have fallen in love with me, Misaki."
There was a pause.
"Run him over again," Misaki said, before turning back around and entering the school.
OO
As soon as Misaki's mother pulled out away from the school and Iwata managed to heave his broken and battered body off of the street and drag it into the school, another soul dared to make it's way into the path of fate.
This soul, however, happened to be more or less dead.
The girl was of pale complexion with long, seemingly unkempt blue hair, and amber eyes. She was an alien princess by the name of Hyatt.
And while spewing blood from her own mouth, she dragged herself through the pool of Iwata's, leaving a trail of mixed DNA behind her as she made her way to the school doors. However, once she reached the steps, she found a great deal of her energy drained. Thus she propped herself against the great cement foes that dare call themselves 'stairs' and took a few deep breaths, wiping blood from her mouth.
"I should rest…" she panted, to no one in particular, "…for…at least a while…" She closed her eyes and leaned back. "Yes…for a while…I feel…so tired…"
Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, her heart beat slowing down by the seconds. Soon her blood proceeded to stop flowing through her veins, thus making the flow from her mouth and nose desist.
Yes, it would appear our dear Ha-Chan is dead at the eve of her appearance, and it is no doubt that as soon as the school hears of such things, they will more or less try to get rid of the body in hopes that the parents of the lovely girl will never get wind of the fact that it all took place at their facility and sue.
OO
Another car soon sped into the pool of blood that Iwata and Hyatt had left behind on their merry way into the school facility. This one was more or less crappy as all the others. More crappy, actually. Yes, defiantly crappier. It wouldn't of been so bad if it was just beat up with a bad paint job that had faded and cracked and peeled away for reasons no one really cares to hear about, but this car also happened to have flowers painted it in bright pastel colors that where most defiantly the most hideous on the face of the earth. It also had spinning hubcaps, which brings up the question of which if they were rich enough to afford spinning rims, why not buy a better car also, or instead of?
The door opened, and a girl was practically pushed into the street, her shoes smearing in the blood left behind by our dear friends who, really, we don't even know, so what right do we have to call them friends, much less dear ones?
The girl, however, took no notice of this, and instead spun around as the car sped away, leaving tire marks and the echoes of a screech from the wheels behind it.
"You dare leave Excel?" The girl cried out, perhaps in outrage or sorrow, perhaps in constipation or gas. She flung her hand to her face in a dramatic gesture, although no such thing was called for, since no one was around to see it save for a dead Hyatt, and it is well know that dead people cannot see.
Probably.
"How could you!" the girl called out, her orange braid flapping in the light spring breeze. "Excel did not ask for this!" she sobbed, collapsing to her knees, unbeknownst to her that they were soaking up two other's blood as she went into her theatrics. She paused for a moment, and then looked towards the sky, light fluffy clouds forming patterns on her line of sight, most likely in the forms of cute things such as bunnies and flowers and puppies waiting at your beck and call to be eaten.
"Wait…"she said, a bit in wonder at her own forgetfulness, a bit in wonder at her own stupidity (but, oh - -! She was MUCH too modest to admit to such things!), "Excel DID ask for such parent-type figures to bring her here." Her gaze remained on the sky, contemplating for a moment, the fell upon the school.
"Yes!" She shouted to no one in particular, "Excel has brought herself for on reason and one reason only! To conquer…" her eyes feel on a certain shrub that was near the school steps, "…THAT BUSH!"
She immediately produced a flag attached to a crude metallic dart and threw it with all her might towards the innocent foliage. It gave a shriek or horror and pain as the cold metal penetrated it's branches and stuck, the white flag with a badly-drawn picture of what looked to be like Excel's own face giving the piece sign waving in the wind.
"YOU'RE FIRED!" Excel yelled at the bush, giving it the cobra signal much like Donald Trump on your favorite episode of The Apprentice, which was immediately mistaken as a gang symbol by the Cobra's rival gang, the Vipers, who were stopping by at the 7-11 across the street to pick up some slurpees, thus leading to an attack upon Excel that included those things that get staples out of paper, of which she was stabbed with. Many times.
After the attack subsided, Excel wiped the blood proudly off her shirt (for it was in her mind that she won, even though any one person watching would of suggested otherwise), when she noticed a certain once-organic being lying on the steps.
"Eh?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. "What's this? A type of vegetable, perhaps? If so, will it be willing to allow me to eat it?" She lifted a shaky finger and poked Hyatt, immediately feeling the cold touch of death simper down her arm and to her spine, leaving her chilled to the very marrow of her bones.
"It's dead," Excel said, her voice shaky and full of panic, mostly because the fact that she touched must of somehow left her DNA there, meaning she would immediately be arrested by such CSI figures, seeing that the evidence never lies.
Suddenly, 'it' opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings confusedly at first, then with a shimmering smile.
"Oh," she said, "how lovely it is today…"
Excel, having the proverbial crap scared out of her, and always taking things in an over dramatic, hyperactive way, flung herself backwards into the bush that she had conquered just that very day.
"OH MY GOD!" Excel yelled, pulling herself free of the bush's mightily clutches, of whom had wanted revenge on the horrible indecency that she had committed upon it by throwing a dart at it and then landing in it, supposedly from shock. "THE SENTANIT BEING IS WELL AND ALIVE! GOD SAVE THE QUEEN! GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!"
"Oh…" Hyatt said, noticing Excel for the first time. "Are we in England?"
"Why of course," Excel said. "Why else would I be exclaiming 'God save the queen'?" She paused, realizing that they were, indeed, not in England; but not wanting to make herself sound like a fool, she refused to mention anything about it.
"Anyway," Excel said, "that's not my point. You were dead about a fraction of a second ago."
"I was?" Hyatt asked thoughtfully. "Hm. Well, I sincerely doubt that is so; people just don't come back to life like that, you see." She offered Excel a friendly smile. "Besides if I had been dead, I think it would have been more than a fraction of a second ago…"
Excel tried to cover her confusion with a look that said 'I kinda know what I'm talking about, and that means I most defiantly know what you're talking about right now', but failed. The look came out more like 'Really, this is confusing, and you're creeping me out just a little bit'.
OO
A man known merely as 'Il Palazzo' watched as the ignorant masses began filing into the library, one after the other, few talking with one another; most yelling at one another. One by one, they all entered, leaving a total of seven people including himself. He took a mental record of who came in and why, sure that such information would somehow be relevant it helping him later on in his life.
First to enter was one Watanabe, sentenced to spending the morning at school for some or another prank pulled by himself and one Iwata; the two may or may not have been accompanied by Sumiyoshi who followed after Watanabe, taking his seat at the two chaired table next the Watanabe.
Next was one Misaki Matsuya, who, after seating herself across from the table that Watanabe and Sumiyoshi occupied, pulling some tissues out of her purse and wiping blood off of her shoes.
After her came Iwata himself, not looking like he was in the best condition, considering that he had tire prints upon him, and dried blood stained his clothing. He dared to sit next to Misaki, who glared at him, but made no move in hurting him, only warning him that if he tried anything he would end up in a hospital, or perhaps even a coffin.
Last was Hyatt and a girl Il Palazzo didn't recognize; Hyatt seemed paler and…quite frankly, deader then usual, covered in blood stains that must of varied from her own to other's. She was mostly being dragged by the unknown girl with bright orange hair, and in frenzy; she was yelling something about the other girl 'dieing on her' and 'ignorant bushes who were unwilling to submit and would most likely get sent to relearning schools after she took over all the gardens in Central Park'. The two slid, with quite a sickening sound, seeing that Hyatt was gushing blood all over the place, into the table behind Watanabe (much to his complete joy) and Sumiyoshi (much to his complete…something).
By now, Hyatt was more or less completely covered in blood, and the unknown girl completely slathered in it; not to mention cuts and bruises on her flesh and clothing, with some leaves and branches in her hair for added effect.
Il Palazzo took this all in with a curt nod, writing it all down in his head with a sparkling pen in a notebook with a horse that had a sword on it's head, which protected all his thoughts and dreams.
Afterwards, her turned his attention elsewhere; sources told him that someone had recently tried to conquer one of his bushes, and something simply HAD to be done with that…
OO
A/N: Well, hot damn. That came out pretty smoothly, if I do say so myself. Six whole pages on my Microsoft Word! Yeah, and this just might be my best work yet. Maybe. Anywho, please review if you have the time. And remember my motto on flames; I really like them, like when you get a puppy for your birthday, and it turns out the puppy is a really good stage performer, and when you videotape it and send it to America's Funniest Home Videos, you win a million dollars for it. No, I'm just kidding, I don't really like flames all that much. But I don't mind if you flame me; as long as you tell my WHY you're flaming me. Don't just say "lik OMG u so suk" say WHY I "suk". And things.