Alright, since it's been a bit since I wrote TBG, guess it's time for the disclaimer. This is pretty much a parody. Not making fun of any author, just trends (which I admit, I have fallen victim to myself). This chapter might not seem too in the FF7 cliches, but if you think about those fight scenes against OC badguys, where the protagonists can't seem to win until... wait a second! They're miraculously making a comeback! Then yeah, you'll see what I'm getting at.
And if you want to be all serious and write a complaint, I enjoy good grammar and my pen name being spelled correctly. And if you like it, I'll keep writing, not stop after a while, then pop up with a sequel out of nowhere.
It's poetry in motion
When she turned her eyes to me
'Greg' had to admit, there was always just something about music heavily-laden with synthesizers that just really got him going. He and 'Jim-Jam' were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, her in four-inch stilettos, himself barefoot. He almost looked out of place in this impending brawl, pristine white duster and slacks, while everyone else was throat-to-foot decked out in shiny black leather. Well, he knew 'Jim-Jam''s outfit was leather. These Sephiroth guys probably could only afford pleather.
Goddamn poseurs.
Femmy was looking at them warily, not sure what to make of them.
"Who are you? All of brother's friends came to help him when we tried to find our mother, and you weren't there."
"We're not your brother's friends!" 'Greg' shot back fiercely.
You can do better than that! Throw a mocking name or an insult in there!
"We're not you brother's friends, babycakes!" 'Greg' shot back fiercely.
'Greg', no! That's not a woman!
"We're not your brother's friends, dumpus!" 'Greg' shot back fiercely.
Wait, wait…..'dumpus'? Oh, c'mon, work with me here. We're trying to maintain the idea that everybody should think you're super-cool and handsomely handsome. Would someone like Vincent ever use the term 'dumpus?
"We're not your brother's friends….. er….." 'Greg' trailed off fiercely.
Bravo. Braaaaaaaaaaaaavo.
"We're mysterious villains with stupid names, out for revenge on AVALANCHE for some reason or another!" 'Jim-Jam' explained, scowling. "And we were here first, so get lost. You already copied our super-dramatic entrance from the last story!"
"Story?" Manly asked, confused, looking toward Femmy, who shrugged his shoulders, equally lost.
"Seems like you guys come back from the dead an awful lot, if what Tifa said holds any salt. But you guys getting your asses kicked by us is new and exciting! Hoo-ah!" She shot back, lunging toward Femmy, pulling out her spiked flail, or whatever the Hell weapon she fought with.
Where she kept it….. well, that would forever remain a mystery. Unless I plan to elaborate for four pages upon the origin of the weapon. I mean, I could. I put a lot of thought into these characters, you know.
Okay, that's a lie.
"Science!" 'Greg' shouted, lunging into the fray after her, booting Manly square in the chest.
However, his target didn't budge, didn't even flinch from the hit, just grinned back benignly, while 'Greg' stared in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing.
At least until the pain finally registered. The searing ache shot through his nerves, and he let out an exaggerated, womanly squeal of pain, realizing that his foot was absolutely splintered against Manly's chest, toes twisted at all sorts of abstract angles, snapped bones pushing through the skin. His ankle was, upon closer inspection, now little more than a lump of pulverized bone shards.
Oh Jesus, what kind of inhuman…..
He'd never experienced something like this. That kick was unstoppable. He'd slaughtered scores of children and the elderly with that tactic. But he'd just annihilated his stompin' foot, and that was using as much power as he could muster. There'd been a fancy crackly aura around his leg and everything. Like, in the shape of a dragon, or lunging wolf or some shit. And his super ultimate attack hadn't even left a singe-mark on the possibly-pleather outfit of Manly. That attack never failed. It always hit its mark, always defeated them handily. But how could this mysterious enemy simply shrug it off?!
"GRAAAAAAAAAH!" He shrieked, embarrassing himself further in the process.
Dude, you played your 'all caps shout' card already. It just makes you look retarded. Just let out a howl of utter, unbearable agony next time, we get the gist. Oh God, and please don't shriek.
Seemingly amused by his horrified paroxysms of pain, Manly smirked and grabbed him by the lapels of his duster, hefting him up into the air and hurling him towards the flaming remains of the table in the center of the room. He hit the mark, but because of his enemy's superhuman strength, he slammed through the flaming debris and kept skidding, crashing through the heavy wood of the bar, and through the back wall as well. He didn't stop until about four walls later, when his head collided with something hard, accompanied by the sound of shattering tile.
Dazedly, he pushed himself up, taking stock of his injuries best as his muddled mind could. Cold water was arcing through the air, raining down directly in his face, and he sputtered and coughed frantically before managing to turn his head away from the freezing spray to take a breath, his whole body wracked with pain. Nothing could help him now. Not Tifa, not his super-duper ultimate attack, not the funky beats of Thomas Dolby, who had really no reason to even be mentioned here. Yeah, sure, if you want to mention a musician that a character listens to, people are apt to use one of their real-life favorite musicians. I mean, Yuffie's cool, right? You listen to... let's say Green Day. I suppose they're cool. And since you're the author, you undoubtedly have to be cool, yeah? So cool that someone like Yuffie would want to emulate you? That she, like you, in you infinite coolness would listen to Green Day?
Yeah. That's what I thought.
Nobody listens to Thomas Dolby.
Face it 'Greg'. You're fucked man.
Seriously what kind of character was this? Knocked him through several walls with a mere toss. Oh God…..
Oh God, were they being upstaged?
Usurped?
Killed off?
Written out?
Maybe they were no longer unstoppable enough, now that there were canon nigh-unstoppable badasses.
He could vaguely hear the slow plodding footsteps of Manly coming closer. He was certainly taking his time. He had to get up. Get up and fight, regardless of the fact that the bones in his left leg were shattered into a fine paste.
Then again, it's not like a lot of people (or the guys that made Advent Children) try to keep some semblance of realism in the physics of their fight scenes. This sort of thing would most likely permanently disable you, or outright kill you.
For God's sake, he just went skidding headfirst through a bunch of hard obstructions. His head should be crushed open like an over-ripe Halloween pumpkin. He shouldn't be dazed and being all 'Oh my God! He's going to kill me!'
Aah, fuck it. It seems more badass, so that's what we're going with. Besides, Tifa is not Spiderman, and yet she was zipping around all over the place and sticking to walls, after shrugging off being slammed into a church pew hard enough to break it.
Looks like physics doesn't really apply to you guys.
Carry on. Be all badass and dramatic.
"Don't tell me you're getting stomped on already?"
He looked up from his sprawled position on the cool linoleum floor, finding Tifa in the room with him, the martial artist seated primly on the toilet, peering at him over the top of a magazine. He was transfixed, almost unable to look away. It was Tifa, sitting there….. on the can. He should look away. Had to look away.
Oh curse the day he was made to be obsessed with her!
She shook her head lightly, and thumbed to the next page, waving him off, seemingly unfazed by his blatant staring.
"If you really need my help, I'll be out of here in a few minutes. And 'Greg'?"
"Yes?" He coughed weakly, voice, and a certain part of his anatomy strained. Seeing her like that, pants down around her knees, magazine teasingly hiding anything indecent from his gaze, he forgot about the fight, forgot about his impending doom for one sweet, sweet second.
Oh, Jesus, you're disgusting, you know that?
"Do you even know their names?"
He had no time to respond to her smirking inquiry, as a hand suddenly latched onto his obliterated foot, pulling him back toward the bar fight, where, presumably, 'Jim-Jam' was holding her own against Femmy. Well, he presumed anyway, as he had yet to see her get knocked through a bunch of walls and hit the bathtub skull-first with enough force to shatter it.
But then again, if there was somebody with long, silky smooth hair, either hanging around with, or fighting a bald person, who was preferred almost unanimously by people that likes to type things like 'Squee!' and 'OMG!'?
Yeah, 'Jim-Jam', you're fucked honey. Why do you think Reno gets way more face time, and action, and just flat-out fan-points than Rude?
Because people think his crazy mullet is sexy.
Your black and pink stubble just can't measure up against 100 authentic silver hair.
Tifa's question made no sense. Oh God, it was one of those cryptic hints, wasn't it? He'd probably have to jumble the letters of their names together and put it in as a password to access super-classified documents about whatever Shinra project had developed them to get another cryptic hint from those files. And he'd probably need somebody's blood, or a rare materia, or some kind of ancient artifact, like a Dagger of Aulberon or some goofy shit like that to destroy them. And even then he'd need to lure them to an exact location at an exact time on an exact date in order to defeat them in one of those kinds of battles where it was drawn out in a way that he was getting his ass kicked right up until the very end, when he would manage to get in one, desperate blow that would give him the victory.
Well, fuck it. He wasn't some kind of super detective. He should just go-go Gadget get the fuck out of here. Not only was he getting his ass kicked, and dragged away from the closest chance he had at seeing Tifa naked, but he couldn't even pre-emptively jump from this genre. Whatever the fuck kind of genre this was supposed to be.
"Let me go, you ass! Do you know how long I've tried to get a look of her naked? That was probably the closest I was ever going to get!" He shouted at Manly, who paused, looking down at him, eyebrow raised questioningly.
"You're….. not one of brothers friends, are you?" He asked slowly, in a voice that seemed to indicate mild mental retardation. Guy was probably taking super-powered blows to the head left and right. No surprise if he wasn't really all there.
And that, kids, is why you always block hits with your body. That way, you get sexy, mysterious scars, as opposed to unsexy, mysterious debilitating head trauma.
Wait a sec, maybe this guy wasn't so cool after all…..
"I'm a super-humanly strong martial artist with an obsession for Tifa!" He shouted, rearing up and taking a swing at Manly, who, as 'Greg' had predicted, decided to block it with his skull.
"Some might say I am too! And I'm an avatar of Sephiroth to boot!" Manly retorted, balling his hand into a fist, scowling down at him as his weapon began to crackle with electricity. 'Greg' just gaped at him, unable to comprehend what he was hearing.
The guy….. was almost identical to him. Aside from being a total re-re that is.
Mysterious past, popped up out of fucking nowhere when everything was going pretty well for the heroes, while Cloud was being all depressed, and Tifa was all 'Oh Cloud, I want to love you, ooh, baby!'. Beat on members of AVALANCHE and the Turks, and came off as downright unstoppable, and nigh impossible to kill off. Only to die just in time for a happy ending.
"Usurper!" He shouted, rearing up, forgetting the fact that his left ankle was smashed five ways to the next continuation of this plot, and once again booted him, aiming just a little higher, going for his jaw. A second time, Manly blocked with his skull, and once the awesome, crackly aura of his attack died down, he saw that this time, it had succeeded, and Manly was down for the count about five walls and a smashed bar counter away from him.
If all else went according to plan now, he'd have that fucking Dagger of Aulberon in no time, and…..
A loud shriek brought him out of his elated scheming, and he made his way back into the barroom, figuring that maybe 'Jim-Jam' needed a hand taking care of Femmy. His 'not quite a mullet yet not quite not a mullet' might be able to give him enough of a efenst against the long sleek silver locks.
However, as he sprinted back (on his completely destroyed foot to boot) he came across the sight of 'Jim-Jam' standing there, spiked flail jammed into her chest, but seemingly oblivious to it, smirking broadly as she fisted a large clump of Femmy's hair, as he continued to shriek and squeal like a woman.
"Not so tough now, huh?" She crowed, reaching up and ripping the flail free from where the spikes had imbedded deeply against her breasts, causing blood to spurt from the numerous puncture wounds, raining down upon Femmy's luxurious, downy silver locks.
"What happened?" 'Greg' asked, watching with a sordid kind of glee as Femmy began to sob as his perfect hair was sullied. 'Jim-Jam' glanced over her shoulder at him, shrugging slightly.
"This guy was kicking my ass. My flail bounced right off of him, and I couldn't land a hit or anything. But then I deus ex machina-ed to the realization that he always moved out of the way if you came too close to his hair, and then I got him. Ha! Look at him cry!"
"Loz, help me!" Femmy whined tearfully, prying unsuccessfully at 'Jim-Jam''s grip, the ends of his beloved hair frazzled and singed. She had no flint, no tinder, yet she had managed to burn off a good couple of inches of his hair, the bitch.
Oh shit girl, here come the fangirls. You'd better fuckin' book it.
"I can't! They're even more powerful than brother, Yazoo!" Manly replied weakly. "How could they have deus ex machina-ed our weaknesses? None of brother's friends managed to do that!"
Pausing in their haughty, victorious gloating over having discovered their opponents' designated 'mandatory weak point', 'Greg' and 'Jim-Jam' locked eyes, as if what the brothers had said destroyed their good humor.
"Laws? Kazoo?" 'Jim-Jam' attempted uncertainly, leaning in a little closer to Femmy, twisting her grip in his hair a tad more, blinking at him expectantly.
"It's Loz and Yazoo….." Yazoo whimpered a little, tears beading at the corners of his eyes.
'Jim-Jam' found tears stinging her eyes too at hearing him slowly enunciate the names for her.
Tears of laughter.
"You fucking losers!" She crowed, doubling over as she laughed, like their names were the epitome of utter fuckin' hilarity. "Those are some of the saddest 'These names are complicated and when you read them they seem awkward or impossible to pronounce, and nobody in a million years would actually have that name' names I have ever heard!"
'Greg' was laughing along with her, jeering and mocking, watching the two Sephiroth brothers shrink in on themselves more and more desperately trying to cover their ears.
"Our names are not stupid!" Loz protested weakly, cut off as 'Jim-Jam' and 'Greg' only laughed harder and harder.
"I mean, I mean, at least we have an excuse! We needed 'unique' names to stand out in somebody's paltry attempts at writing. They want people to think we're cool, and look past the lack of original concept. You guys are supposed to be actual, factual bad guys! How the fuck did you end up with such retarded names?! They pick 'em out of a bowl of Alpha-Bits? Smash their hand down on the keyboard nd just run with it?"
They probably could have continued their gleeful menacing of the brothers all night, since, after all, they had asserted their dominance. They'd easily taken out canon villains that had given the canon heroes a run for their money. And it had been damn near flawless, aside from a wrecked up ankle and a spiked flail to the chest, which weren't even slowing them down anymore.
Even Cloud had struggled to defeat them. Cloud! The number one protagonist of Final Fantasy VII!
Oh shit son, Tifa need not worry as long as 'Greg' and 'Jim-Jam' were still in tip-top form. Perhaps even tipper-topper form. And everybody get down and shower me with praise, because they're cool, stylish, and oh so original and you all wish you could write such cool characters as I do!
Riiiiiiiiiiiiight.
However, there was one thing that 'Jim-Jam' and 'Greg' couldn't help Tifa defend against…..
"Guys?" Tifa called to them through the devastation, coughing lightly, her boots creaking precariously across the smashed up floorboards. "I think we have a problem….."
"What up? Cloud struggling to come to terms with how he feels for you?" 'Jim-Jam' called back to her, chuckling a little, though it dissolved into a croak of shock as she caught a look at the martial artist.
'Greg' saw her and let out a shout of horror, turning his face away, lest he start melting like one of those Nazis that looked into the Ark of the Covenant.
Tifa had her vest unzipped, white top distended over her stomach, which had amazingly swollen within the past few minutes from when she had been seen in the bathroom.
"Holy shit!" 'Greg' gritted out, refusing to look. "Don't tell me we're in a crossover with Aliens! Of all the people, I can't believe the Facehuggers got you!"
Our long-suffering protagonist heaved a great sigh, letting her shoulders drop, shaking her head tiredly.
"No. While you two were busy roughhousing, we ended up in a story. I mean, like, as soon as I got off the can. Barely had time to flush."
"You have clichés where you end up with a beer gut?!" 'Jim-Jam' asked weakly. "Well, I mean, if you sit around chugging Lagers all day, I suppose that might not be far off. And I also have to say-"
"No!" Tifa gritted out, hands balling into fists, annoyed by her sidekicks' inability to comprehend what the Hell had happened to her. "I'm….
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
………
……………………………………… ……………… ………………..
Hold on, just a few more to build up even more dramatic tension. Or I might just make it a cliff hanger, despite how obvious the answer is.
………………………
…….
.. ………………..
Okay, that should about do it. Are you guys totally chomping at the bit to find out what it is? Because, I know I'm totally the master of suspenseful writing.
"Pregnant." She finished finally, one hand to her face in shame.
"Holy shit, you mean you can get pregnant from a toilet seat?" 'Jim-Jam' asked in awe, more surprised by the concept of it, than the actual revelation.
"Well, as long as you aren't going to end up with a chestburster popping out going all 'Ree! Chss! Reeeeeeeee!' at us, it's cool. You….. aren't going to, right?" 'Greg' hesitated slightly, casting a quick glance at her stomach from behind his fingers, as if terrified Tifa would start siezing and spitting blood any second.
"No. Besides, people didn't look fat if they had a chestburster in them."
"Well, alright then."
"No, not, 'alright then'! We've got to do something about this!" She shouted, scowling.
"Psh." 'Greg' replied, waving it off, still not looking at her. "We don't have to do anything. I ain't your baby daddy."
"Hey!" Tifa snarled back at him, eyes narrowing "You think I have any control over this sort of thing?! The way this gets written, I'm all preggo, and then it's all 'oh shit! Drama! How is the baby daddy gonna react if I tell them?!'. It's ridiculous."
"I'm sorry….. if?" 'Jim-Jam' repeated, not exactly comprehending it. "Wouldn't the guy you're with know by now?"
Tifa let out a bitter little laugh, shaking her head.
"It's...retardedly complicated. Let's just work on getting rid of this... thing for right now."
"Like, now, now? This chapter's a little long in the tooth as it is."
"Okay, fine. Next chapter then. But so help me, if the next chapter jumps ahead to a point where I've popped this fucking parasite out, you'll all wish it was a chestburster!" She warned lowly.
On the ground, Loz and Yazoo exchanged confused looks, wondering what they had done to deserve this. How they had even ended up here in the first place.
It wasn't looking good. An ass whupping by two lame OCs, and a spontaneous pregnancy for the titular character.
Really, they came back from the dead for this?
