Chapter 2: United Fandom
He swiftly looked behind, then shot his viewpoint towards the rooftops. Despite his constant running, he still saw that same bastard in black brandishing a sniper rifle.
"Shit!" said Film Brain. His eyes darted between the alleys that were open to him, not sure which route to take. With that sniper looming over his head, and with his friends in close pursuit behind him, he had to act fast. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, it having become quite damp as he had been doing this constantly for the last hour or so, and took the path to the right. He ran through the dimly-lit Reading streets, briefly looking behind him to see if they were still tailing him. He couldn't see them, so he turned back round... And immediately collided with someone else in the alley.
They both fell to the ground in a heap, or rather, as Film Brain later discovered, they ALL fell to the ground in a heap. They all got up and brushed themselves off. One of them turned his flashlight towards Film Brain. Film Brain immediately covered his eyes from the 200 lumen-bright blue fire.
"Film Brain? Is that you?" Film Brain lowered his arms, after the figure lowered his light.
"Hello, Ashens. Nice to meet you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'M BEING CHASED BY A GANG ARMED WITH FUCKING ASSAULT RIFLES!" He started to run past the group, but a large hand reached out and held him back.
"We know that, you twit." said Diamanda Hagan, pulling Film Brain into the pseudo-circle that the group had made. "They're after us as well. They managed to sneak into my compound last night, fucking hitmen."
"Hitmen?" said Ashens. "Why hitmen? I mean, I know our videos are bad, but they can't be THAT bad."
Welshy, Guru Larry, Film Brain, Diamanda Hagan and MikeJ all glared at him.
"What?" said Ashens, his sense of snark not having been altered by this experience. "Never heard a joke before?"
"There's a time and a place for that. Guess what this?" said Welshy, taking a deep breath. "NOT THE FUCKING TIME, NOR THE FUCKING PLACE!"
"Guys, shut up, will you?" said MikeJ, looking worriedly at the rooftops. "Do you want them to find us and put bullets through our heads?" The group immediately quieted. "I didn't think so. Okay, Dr. Ashens, have you got the map?"
Ashens pulled out a rather wrinkled and well-worn map out of his pocket. He unfolded it, it making a crackling sound as he did so, and held it out.
"Wait. First off, shouldn't we fill in Film Brain on what's going on? I mean, he looks like he just shat himself in fear." said Guru Larry, gesturing to Film Brain. Film Brain wagged his head up and down like a bobblehead.
"Fair enough." said Diamanda Hagan. "Okay, listen well, Film Lacks-A-Brain, 'cause we only have enough time to go through this once. According to my contacts in the British underground, we all have had bounties put on our heads."
"Who by?" said Film Brain, timidly.
"I was getting to that!" shouted Diamanda Hagan, smacking him in the shoulder. "Apparently, from what I can tell, the Avatar of Decent Humour and..." She glanced at Ashens. "What was the other's name again?"
"The Silver Skull, what will have to pass for my archnemesis."
"Right, the Silver Skull. Yeah, the Avatar of Decent Humour and the Silver Skull have collectively put a bounty out that has, from the looks of things, at least half the gangsters in England after us. Well, assumedly, that should only result in myself and Ashens being targeted but, as we ran into Guru Larry and Welshy, we discovered that that wasn't the case. This goes much further than just the two of them."
"It would have to." said Ashens, piping in, "The Silver Skull isn't clever enough to pull this sort of shit off. I mean, have you heard some of his jazz improvisations?" He made a grimace. "It's like listening to the biggest fingernail ever made scrape across an entire world made of chalkboards."
"Okay!" said Diamanda Hagan, clearly getting fed up. "The next person who interrupts my expositing will get a free colonoscopy, courtesy of Dr. Kills-At-Thirty-Paces!" He pulled her signature gun out of its holster and brandished it at them, her red and white makeup making her looking a crazed, bloodthirsty warrior ready to make a kill... Which she probably was. They all shrank back, all except for Guru Larry who backed up sharply into a wall and ended up hurting himself. "Anyone else want to chime in?" Silence, save for the light wince coming from Larry's direction. "I didn't think so." She holstered her gun again, the group looking noticeably relieved that she did so. "Anyway, we were trying to make our way to London, but someone..." She stared at Welshy. "Insisted on making a pit stop."
"Hey," said Welshy, "Excuse me for not wanting a fellow reviewer to snuff it. It's not as if he'd be able to save himself, so I figured someone else had to do it."
"Nevertheless, by majority vote, it was decided that we make our way through Reading to get to London so we could find you, but when we got here, we realised we had no idea where you lived, so we resorted to guesswork. Then you literally crashed into us, and here we are now. Now, with that out of the way, can we please figure out how we are going to get to London?"
"Oh, I'm afraid that you won't make it to London." said a sinister voice from the shadows. "At least, not in one piece, you won't."
The entire group of English Evaluators (Okay, they weren't ALL English, but screw it, I want my alliteration, damn it) shot glances at the voice in the darkness. All except Hagan, who shot three rounds straight into the thing's chest, or at least what she assumed was its chest, it was hard to tell. The voice only laughed in response. Ashens shone his flashlight at the figure. Despite being under power torch light, they still couldn't make out who, or what, the voice's source was. He was dressed in a black cloak that covered most of his body, except for the head which was covered by some sort of white fabric. In front of the figure was three spent bullets.
"I see those hired guns did a pitiful job of finishing you off. Kind of a good thing in hindsight, since that gives ME the chance to kill you personally." He gestured his hands forward, and out came four more hit men, two on each side of him. "Take care of the others," he told them, "Leave our dear Mr. Jeavons to me."
MikeJ immediately stepped forward. "Me? Why me?"
"Oh, we have some unfinished business to attend to. I'm surprised you still don't recognise me." He pulled down his cloak a little more so that his neck was exposed. The fabric continued down and stopped at his neck, which had ribbing on it.
"Sock?" Said MikeJ, fear striking his face like he had struck his sister the night before.
"Yes, it is I. My masters have given me a new form so that I am better equipped to deal with you, especially after our last little encounter. Oh, by the way, you never did figure out my real name, did you? You just called me 'The Sock', how fuckin' lazy are you?"
MikeJ, scared and yet unbearably curious, asked the obvious question. "Why are you still talking when you could killing us right now?"
"It's tradition. I'm supposed to monologue like this before I kill someone. Now, ask the damn question!" His form seemed to bristle underneath the cloak.
"Okay, fine. What's your real name?"
"I am the Sentient Omnisexual Critic Killer."
MikeJ fought hard to keep from smirking.
"Now, with that out of the way," He breathed in deep, "Attack!"
But suddenly, out of the darkness beyond the S.O.C.K. and his companions was the faint but definitive sound of a piano playing. It took a while for the reviewers to figure it out, but they finally managed to get a hold of the song that was playing: Party Rock Anthem.
"Every day, I'm shufflin'." Came another voice from the shadows, only this one wasn't sinister like the S.O.C.K.'s, but rather strong and lyrical, like the harsh yet delicate sound of a saw playing a double bass. As soon as those words were uttered, the hit men and the S.O.C.K., as if possessed by some unknown power, began to shuffle to the piano music. Try as they might, and from the looks on the assassins' faces they certainly were trying, they couldn't stop shuffling.
Then, another surprise came onto the scene. As Hagan was shooting like crazy since the S.O.C.K. revealed itself, with the bullets collecting in a pile at his feet, it couldn't be distinguished at first, but four extra gunshots were fired. Not at the S.O.C.K., but at the hit men. One by one, they fell like stiff marionettes, leaving the S.O.C.K. alone, still shuffling the night away.
"Now," Said yet another voice, slightly squeaky in fashion but none the less commandeering and powerful. "With those distractions out of the way, Todd, cut off the music."
"Gladly." Said Todd, with a sigh of relief, and he halted the music. A whooshing sound came from behind the reviewers; someone had just leapt down to their position, his left palm landing flat on the rough ground as he landed. He stood up, his brown coat flying behind him slightly as he walked forward and revealed himself.
"Now, Mr. S.O.C.K.," Said the mighty Minnesotan, "Think for a second: Do you really think you're enough to kill all of us?"
The Critic Killer looked at the reviewers, and then behind it at Todd, who was leaning his club on his right shoulder. Within two seconds, it had receded into the night, running past Todd as it did so. Todd tried to tackle him, but the S.O.C.K. just smacked him away.
"Thanks for trying, Todd." Todd let out a slight groan. "Never send a sock to do a MAN's job." Said Linkara. He reached for the communicator on his left wrist.
"Linkara to Comicron 1, are you there, Nimue?"
"Affirmative. Are the targets eliminated?"
"The hit men are knocked out, but S.O.C.K. got away. Doubtless we'll run into again soon, though." He said this not so much to Nimue, but rather to Hagan, whom he knew was still in a state of bloodlust. "Nimue, prepare for teleportation."
"Commencing teleportation."
The eight reviewers were then sent a hundred miles upwards, and brought into the cold green and metallic light of Comicron 1's bridge. Linkara immediately made his way to the ship's console.
"Nimue, set a direct course for Chicago." He turned around to the bewildered and clearly mindfucked UK reviewers. "Okay, I guess I should explain what's going on..."
As the Craft of Freedom soared through the sky towards Chicago, 100,000 light years away from Earth on a cold planet, two women were walking across its surface. One had the look of a goth: black eyeliner, black leather jacket and black skirt. The one distinguishing feature about her was slightly obscured, but was still visible: A Starfleet emblem on her black t-shirt. The other woman was wearing a t-shirt with the picture of an Earth-born metal band under a black trench coat, leather pants and black fingerless gloves, one of which gripped a mighty sword that gave off an eerie blue glow.
As they continued walking, they quickly noticed something in the distance. All they could make out was a vivid blob of black against the snowy backdrop. As soon as they both caught sight of it, they immediately made a dash for it, wanting to do their job and get out of the miserably cold weather as soon as was possible.
They approached the blob, which had now morphed into the shape of a person. It heard their crunching footsteps in the snow, and turned around to face them. When they felt they had reached an appropriate distance, the two women stopped.
"Why are you here?" Said the figure, in a voice that seemed to be spoken through an electronic voicebox.
"For you, Lord Vyce." Said Dark Nella. "Our master has specifically requested that you be at his side."
"But I can't!" Said Lord Vyce, clenching his clawed hands as he did so. "That stupid Champion has exiled me here. I am unable to leave this planet until he releases me from this frozen prison. And knowing him, he's probably been absorbed by the Entity already."
"But he isn't." Said Judas Liz. "The Entity is gone. Somehow, Linkara managed to get it to destroy itself."
A low growling noise came from Vyce. Judas took a step back.
"He destroyed a being that I have spent many cycles to exterminate, a quest that has destroyed most of my body, on... his... own?" His voice had become a technological screech of pure hatred. "It absorbed my entire reality, taking everything I ever cared for with it; and it was destroyed by a pathetic comic book nerd?"
A smirk grew across Dark Nella's face. "We have the means to release you from this world, as well as a craft to take you with us."
Lord Vyce immediately walked closer to Nella.
"Get off of this rock, and get me to Linkara!"
"Right this way." Nella turned around and started walking back towards their own craft. Judas Liz and Vyce followed suit, walking on either side of her. Another had been recruited, and he wouldn't be the last.