Authors note: Hello, if you have no idea what the summary is talking about, please visit the website before reading! (google 'ten hero tusk cartoon network') Back in the day there were a lot of viral marketing websites for TSS, including this one, presumably based on a plot idea that was never used, involving Doyle, Van Rook and Finster as a group looking for cryptids and artifacts. I always thought it was an intriguing concept, so here's my take on it! Hope you enjoy 3
Pov: third person
Trigger warnings: SPIDERS,,,,, i have an insect+arachnid phobia why did i write this
Whack!
A razor sharp machete is swung wildly, almost recklessly, blazing through the foliage for our trio. Our adventurers are Doyle Blackwell, Leonidas Van Rook and Baron Finster. Deep in the rainforests of the Congo, the hunt for adventure guides them farther and farther into the unknown.
"Stop swinging that thing around, you'll hurt yourself." A voice warns the sword slinger, blanketed under a thick Russian accent.
"You're just jealous of how cool I look doing it." The boisterous redhead replies without hesitation.
Finster, who's been trailing slightly behind the two, finally pipes up, challenged to keep up in the terrain that wasn't quite made for an entirely robotic lower half.
"I think you both look like fools." He quips, sweat illuminating his temples, only bringing attention to the dishevelment of his attempted insult.
"Hah, says the half scorpion man sleuthing around for a giant spider. You look like a sequel to Honey I Shrunk the Kids."
As the common jester seeks audience approval for his joke, it's jeered at with a shared look of disdain.
"How very charming. I never saw that movie."
"Wow. That explains a lot about your personality."
Finster ignores the response, as the mood is segwayed back into something with a semblance of focus by the sound of paper unfolding. Doyle extends the map in front of himself, trailing it with his index finger.
"The nest was spotted somewhere over. . ."
Pointing the way, it's only a few more yards before they come across their destination. A clearing with a large web, spun between two trees, spanning at least 10 feet.
"I think we found our guy." Van Rook boasts.
Metal clicks and whirs gently as Finster crouches down to a deflated sphere of silk.
"Girl. This is the egg sac. It's already empty, we'll have to look for the juveniles ourselves."
"How are we supposed to find a baby spider in the middle of the rainforest?" Doyle scoffs.
"I found one." Van Rook swiftly replies.
"Huh? Where?" He drones back, scanning the forest himself and gathering no results.
Van Rook sighs a world weary sigh, before changing to an expression one could call half pity and half relishing.
"Where do you think it is."
The growingly despondent man turns his gaze towards himself, to find a spider the size of a hamster on his hip, a firm grip to his side.
"Oh my god."
Van Rook cackles in response, Finster concealing his own chuckles with a faux cough.
"Yeah it's really funny guys but- it's going on the forest floor in 2 seconds if you don't- GRAB IT." He shouts, tensing with each movement of the animals eight legs as it nears his stomach. Finster leans forward intently.
"Hold on, we have to confirm that this is truly the J'ba Fofi and not a common Congolese spider. . . Let's see, yellow color, purple abdomen, anatomical similarities to the Tarantula but far too young for any urticating hairs to have grown in, I believe we have a match."
"Oh please, keep describing it in detail out loud to me." He replies, passive aggression surrounding him like an aura.
"Oh relaaax, is just a baby. You scared of a baby?" Van Rook mocks, before Finster cuts in once again.
"Actually, in some species the newborns are more dangerous. For instance, rattlesnake hatchlings can't control their venom, so while an adult could give you a dry warning bite, the baby will give you all it has."
"God I love your reassuring nature facts so very fucking much but, the container." He begs.
"Yeah, yeah, hold still." Van Rook mutters.
The plastic carrier, meant for holding turtles and other medium reptiles, is opened and braced, before they are cut off by the bureaucrat once again.
". . . Mm, my dear friend, it appears you've found one as well."
"What?" Van Rook whips around, much to the disdain of the panicked man before him, the arachnid now precariously close to his chest. It's then that he senses a slight tug on his pants leg.
"Son of a bitch-" He shakes his foot as the man behind him blows downwards feverishly in an attempt to slow the beast approaching his collarbone. If the stakes and payload alike weren't so high, Finster may find it challenging to hold it together at the comical sight before him.
"Be careful now, we're only here for a few of them, we wouldn't want to attract the mother."
"Fine, then you do something! You're the scorpion guy right! Eat it or whatever!" Doyle shouts.
The price may be high, but his patience is low. A mechanical clanging rings out as he primes his artificial stinger over the riskily positioned pest.
"I believe I have a better idea."
"HEY!"
". . . Mm. Not to alarm anyone, but I lost mine." Van Rook adds, inspecting his leg with a puzzled expression.
"What?!" The bickering pair freezes.
"That's because you were kicking at it like a lunatic!" Finster chides.
"Did you want me to end up like him?" He gestures to Doyle, who's nearly bent over backwards, as if pulling away can rid him of the encroaching menace secured tightly to his torso.
The groups rising drama is interrupted by a nearby rustling, turning heads towards the greenery surrounding them. Silence takes hold as they prepare for an imminent battle.
". . . Guys, it's leg is on my chin-" Doyle whispers.
"Quiet!" They scold in unison.
Mere seconds pass before their enemy emerges. What lunges from the vegetation is fortunately, not the mother of spiders that they had feared, but a man. It appears to be a local Baka tribesperson, which could ensnare them in a much deeper web of conflict. Doyle raises the machete that's been hanging idly at his side in his distracted state, though he's struggling to appear very intimidating with the weapon now. The sudden confrontation causes Van Rook to drop the carrier on the ground, cracking and snapping it at the hinge. There goes their transportation.
The tribesman holds a spear, and speaks in a tongue none of the group can translate, but a seemingly obvious "get the fuck out of here" is initiated. Van Rook, being the skilled negotiator (or, what some might more accurately refer to as, a haggler) points direly at the aforementioned menace.
"Listen, we're here to take care of your. . . eh, J'ba Fofi, the spider, see?"
The man takes a moment to examine Doyle's predicament, and in a turn of events, lets out a small laugh. They laugh anxiously with him, the language barrier temporarily coming down as he follows up with some implicative hand gestures, mocking the small size of the creature and Doyle's grimacing smile.
This lighthearted atmosphere remains even when he once again, points his spear, gesturing for them to leave. It only halts when Van Rook reaches to brush the creature off onto the ground. He then shakes his head, repeating his deterring body language.
Sensing that the confusion has returned, and spotting the broken carrier, the tribesman picks the spider up with his bare hands, and gently gives it to van rook, cupping his palms to seal it in. He signals to the group a final warning to clear the area.
". . . You've got to be kidding me."
Finster smirks.
"You did inform him that we would take care of it."
Doyle smirks as well, tauntingly resting an elbow on his shoulder.
"Aw, It's just a baby Van Rook, what, are you scared of a baby?"
After he shoots few daggers, the trio finally waves and departs, making their way back to base in preparations to head home. Once out of earshot, Van Rook takes the opportunity to return the snark.
"By the way, when we update the website, I'll be sure to say that you discovered this one."
"Whatever." Doyle replies indignantly.
As a final gibe, Van Rook makes a sudden thrust motion with his closed hands, which Doyle reacts to with a rather violent flinch. Him and Finster share a laugh at the frazzled man, who bitterly rolls his eyes as they continue on their journey.