Author's Note: Obviously this title is supposed to be a rearranging of the words in the expression "A wolf in sheep's clothing."
Before I go farther I will be giving a few shout outs:
SlayerDarth: I'm glad I could at least give you some form of amusement with my means of lampooning Justin Bieber in the last chapter and yes the hippie from that scene was indeed inspired by the Truth. I forgot to mention that the scene with the nerd Ferguson still trying to act macho as he was being led away by the cops was inspired by the ending of "Superbad" in which Fogel a.k.a. McLovin was led away by the cops thinking "it would get him so much ass." Sorry to disappoint you with the bit about Artie whacking Rocco, but I personally thought he was a douche and really seemed to get his kicks from bullying people around, so I basically gave him what I thought he should have had coming, but that's just me though. I'm also glad I could make you laugh with the Tea Party spoof as well.
Afro Spirit:I do watch the show "Gangland" and I am familiar with that F.S.U. group you mentioned. I do think they had a cause worth fighting for with going after the Neo Nazis and yeah I thought that Oleg from SR3 was pretty cool despite his unrealistic physical portrayal.
Native Gunz: I fucking loved Zimos from SR3 and I laughed so fucking hard in the portion where he's introduced in that bondage gear and having to pull you along in that horse cart for that low speed chase! Hell, I laughed even harder when you had to shoot up the gimps and they would explode like they were cars!
blondebabe800: Thank you for the support. Yeah I figure with all the chaos and bloodshed around him it would at least be nice to give Artie something of a semblance of non-violent stability, hence my decision to give him an actual girlfriend, although if this were an actual game he would still be able to screw prostitutes on the side like Niko can in GTA4. I'm also glad I could give you the giggles with the political rally scene in "Bringing Out the Big Guns," the Tea Partiers in this country are huge fucking right-wing douche bags who deserve to be lampooned with their sheer idiocy and given GTA's penchant for toilet humor, I was given plenty of ammo when naming them.
Chapter 17: A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing
Artie grunted loudly as he stirred awake, his nose caught by an enticing aroma, the combined sensual assault of scrambled eggs, bacon and French toast, something he hadn't had in a long time.
Slowly pushing himself up in bed he again grunted as he felt the lingering stings of pain in his face and looked over into a nearby vanity mirror where he could see the bandages all over.
"Way to go Artie, the Mummy would be so proud of you," he thought to himself before reaching down to scoop up his boxers and slide them on before making his way to the kitchen.
Gladys was standing in front of the stove wearing nothing but a faded Rushmore Juggernauts football jersey and turned to greet him with a warm smile.
"Hey Tiger, you're just in time!" she said placing his plate on a spot at the kitchen table set up just for him before walking over to the coffee machine to pour him a fresh cup.
"Definitely a woman of many talents, I like that," Artie laughed as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed him on top of his head.
"You only saw a portion of them last night," Gladys playfully giggled as she sat down before her own prepared meal.
The sex had been far more intense than he envisioned and the both of them ended up going at it like a couple of wild dogs in heat. Hell, he was surprised he was as wide awake as he was when he looked over to the clock to see it was only a few minutes after 10 a.m. and she had kept him up roughly until around 6 or so.
"Wow, this is delicious," Artie said with his mouth half full before taking another large bite out of his French toast and reaching over to pour more maple syrup onto it. He scarfed one piece down as quickly as he could and then eagerly jabbed his fork into the mound of scrambled eggs, but quickly caught himself when he realized how piggish he probably looked in front of the beautiful lady seated across from him, "Sorry," he blurted out, his cheeks turning bright red.
"Eh don't be, like the saying goes 'boys will be boys'," she laughed before taking another swig of her coffee.
"I know, but it's just that this is so delicious," Artie replied before taking a much smaller bite out of his bacon, "I remember Nonna cooking stuff like this for us when we went over to visit her in Florence. She knew Donnie wasn't always too keen on the traditional Italian breakfast meals, so after the usual string of cursing in Italian and smacks upside the head, she finally decided to make us a more 'American breakfast,' although I could tell it wasn't the ideal kind of meal to be cooking, she still did it because she loved us."
"Sounds like this Donnie you speak of has a natural born talent for pissing people off," Gladys laughed.
"Heh, you don't know the half of it," Artie scoffed, finding himself wondering what had become of the womanizing drunk.
"Yeah, my grandma used to make this for me and my sister too. I don't think I've told you, but I'm named after her," the ex-hooker replied.
"Yeah, my parents wanted to give me a traditional Italian name," Artie said before taking another swig of his coffee, "They were going to name me Maurizio after my great-grandfather, the first Cappelli to arrive in the New World. He was a painter who had come from a long line of winery owners, so guess they must've thought I was gonna grow up to be an artist or something.
"Well on the way to the hospital my dad got into an accident and they thought my mom was gonna pop right then and there. Luckily, a doctor happened to be passing by and helped deliver me. They ended up naming me Arthur after him."
"Yeah, from what you've told me your family sounds very Italian so I was surprised they ended up giving you such a non-Italian name," Gladys remarked.
"Yeah, there are a lot of things that would surprise you," Artie chuckled before gulping down the last of his scrambled eggs, "Wow that was delicious. Thank you so much."
"You're very welcome," Gladys said stepping up to take his plate, "While you were sleeping I also took the time to wash your sweater for you. The blood wasn't as hard to get out as I thought it would be."
"That's good to know," Artie said reclining in his chair, "Anything else you're willing to do for me today?"
Gladys turned around giving him a wicked grin, "Well today is my day off from work, maybe we could do a little something more," she said walking over to him and lifting her jersey to reveal her smooth wax job underneath.
"You seem to have a habit for pushing the right buttons," Artie replied as she got down on her knees and removed his boxers, taking his manhood into her eager mouth.
He sat there with his legs spread, squirming as her lips tightened around his hardness and feeling himself nearly cum as she tickled the head with her tongue, but then she pulled her mouth off and began to stroke him while licking his balls and giving him a nibble that nearly made him fall out of the chair.
"Lord have mercy…" Artie gasped in pleasure as she began bobbing her head up and down, becoming more ravenous with her technique like a cougar pouncing a kid on the night of his high school graduation. He swore he could feel his climax coming when his cell phone suddenly rang.
"Goddamn it!" he spat seeing the phone's flashing screen and then looked back down to Gladys, who looked unsure if she should continue, "It's okay sweetie, keep doing what you're doing," he said reaching over to his phone seeing that it was Randy calling him.
"For once I'm not letting this virginal loser be a cock blocker," he told himself as he switched the phone on, only to be met by loud electronic zapping noises with some techno music playing faintly in the background.
"Hello?" he asked, but heard nothing for several seconds and wondered if it had been an accidental 'butt dial.' He was about to hang up when he suddenly heard strained deep breaths coming from the other end.
"Randy?" he asked.
"I am so fucking pissed off right now," the ex-Cluckin' Bell cashier grumbled from the other end.
"Randy, what the hell's going on now?" Artie asked before crying out and looking down to Gladys, "Sweetie, could you please hold up on the biting for now?"
"Sorry sugar," Gladys replied before going back to licking.
"I'm sorry Artie, but I'm too fucking pissed off to talk right now. Why don't you come over and meet me at the Azonkalypse arcade over in LaFollette? Hopefully by then I will have blown off enough steam to be able to properly explain things to you," Randy replied.
"And do I even wanna know how you plan to…ummm…mmm goddamn girl…b-b-blow off steam?" Artie groaned and squirmed more intensely this time, feeling he wouldn't be able to hold off on the forthcoming climax.
"Ha ha very funny! Just meet me over here when you're done having a better time than I'm having," Randy groaned before hanging up.
It was at that very moment Artie finally busted his load into Gladys' waiting mouth.
There were a few seconds of silence as the hitman relaxed in his chair and regained his breath while Gladys took the time to swallow down his load, "What was that all about?" she asked after grabbing a napkin and wiping her lips off.
"Just a friend…he needs my help," Artie replied taking a deep breath, "I'm sorry baby, but we might have to put our 'plans' on hold for the time being…ah what the fuck am I saying? It's not like his luck is bound to get better anyway."
"Don't worry sweetie, I understand. Your friend needs you," Gladys said rising to her feet, "I'm a patient girl, so there will be more of this waiting for you when you get back," she said lifting the jersey to show him nothing underneath.
"Well I'd better get my ass in gear then," Artie said barely fighting back the sudden hormonal rush as he quickly slipped his boxers back on and then ran back to the bedroom to get the rest of his clothes on. "I'll be back later," he called out before disappearing through the front door and bolting down the stairs to his waiting Sentinel outside.
"Randy had so better make this worth my time," Artie told himself as he climbed into the driver seat and switched the car on, filling the air with the fast-paced beats of the DAB 99 drum and bass station to help keep him awake.
"I probably should've taken some antidepressants," he thought knowing how depressing it could be to hang out with Randy sometimes as he forced his way around a Rumpo, ignoring the angry honks of the driver and quickly making his way back into the right lane before he could collide with an oncoming Feroci.
It wasn't long before he was on the freeway over to Jefferson Vale and passing through Lakeview to make his way to LaFollette, finding Arnold Square much less vibrant than it had been the last time he was there, although he did manage to spot some hooded figure tossing a brick through the window of Robert Kretchell's campaign headquarters, forcing the hitman to shake his head at the trivial act of stupidity.
Taking another left hand turn he found himself on the street containing the Azonkalypse video arcade, a small building between a Hi-Fi Hut electronics store and a Glassworx optical store designed to look like some kind of futuristic military base.
"Yep, this reeks of nerd alright," Artie said pulling to a halt outside the building.
He walked inside to find the building lined with arcade games, pinball machines, carnival-style games and even a section reserved for laser tag. Right away he found himself blasted by some loud J-Pop music and looked over to see two young ladies bouncing around on flashing tiles as they played Jig Jig Uprising.
"Christ, I must be getting old if I think that music's too loud," he thought to himself as he walked down an aisle of machines, where a scrawny guy leaned back and forth on a bolted down replica of an Akuma street bike, playing 'Road Burner.'
Along the way he was forced to leap backward as he passed a teenager playing 'Gimp Wars' (based upon the popular movie series), the guy's glowing dildo-shaped controller whipping backward and nearly striking him as he got too overzealous with his game playing.
"Fucking watch it will you?" he shouted as he walked passed and happened across another teenager with thick glasses and a retainer who was in the middle of playing 'Super Barrio Bros.,' a game he hadn't played in a LONG time and briefly stopped to watch the kid play.
The game's protagonist Camacho was being pursued by members of La Migra and happened across a joint, which gave him the ability to launch fireballs at his pursuers, Mariachi music ringing out following every successful strike.
Before he could get too much further into the gameplay he overheard the familiar nasally voice calling out.
"Gah! C'mon goddamn it!" Randy Spitz called out.
Artie rounded a corner to find the former cashier playing the arcade shooter 'Calamity Sector,' a game which came equipped with a controller shaped like an actual MP5-N.
At the moment he was in the midst of shooting it out with a futuristic bipedal battle tank while virtual civilians ran for cover all around him.
"C'mon! C'mon! C'mon!" Randy shouted as his gun ran empty and he stomped the pedal in front of him to reload, bringing up his character's ballistic shield in time to avoid a car being tossed at him by the walking tank. "Ha ha! I'm alive again! Let's go!" he called out slamming down a button that enabled him to toss a hand grenade at his opponent, who responded with a cluster of missiles.
"No! No! No!" Randy hollered, but was too slow to slam the reload pedal and his character was obliterated. "Gah!" he cried out as if he were really dying.
"Blown off your steam yet?" Artie asked walking up to his friend.
Randy did not reply right away, responding with heavy, labored breaths. "Let me think…NO!"
"Man, what's got you so pissed off?" the hired gun asked walking alongside his friend.
Randy took a few moments to compose himself before answering, "Some inconsiderate bastard has taken the liberty to talk shit about me on the 'Gamer's Planet' message boards!"
Again Artie found himself suppressing the urge to laugh, "Really? And you're pissed off over that?"
"This bastard's been jealous of me for years and this time he's taken it too far," Randy said shoving some kid aside who was in the middle of playing the 'Smack-a-Ho' and grabbing the jewel-encrusted mallet.
"He says-" Randy spoke just as the first ho' popped out of her hole, only to be knocked back down by a hard mallet strike (followed by an electronic voice saying "Oh please baby, I won't spend my money on crack like I did the last time") "-that I suck hardcore at 'Denizen Foul' and…" *SMACK* "…that I'm the Despot's bitch…" *SMACK* "…my avatar on 'Planet of Pandemonium' was…" *SMACK* "…unoriginal…" *SMACK* "…and that he's seen better elves…" *SMACK* "…around Crypenbludd that…" *SMACK* "…were more intimidating than…" *SMACK* "…the love fairies!" and with a final smack the game was over and red lights flashed, followed by a loud klaxon as gold tokens spilled out from the machine's slot.
"Goddamn it I'm so pissed off right now!" Randy blurted out before he doubled over huffing and puffing, reaching into his pocket to pull out his inhaler and taking a few hits.
"I see, and do you have any idea who this guy actually is?" Artie asked grabbing the younger man by the shoulder and leading him towards the exit, "You mean, this is somebody you've actually met face to face haven't you? He's not just some faceless schmuck you only know from behind a computer screen?"
"Francis Fishman," Randy replied as they stepped out into the daylight, the former cashier wincing after not seeing any sunlight for hours, "but people call him 'Fishy.'"
"I can only wonder why," Artie sarcastically replied, "So what's the scoop with this 'Fishy' guy? Does he need to be taught a lesson or something along those lines?"
"No…actually he wants to meet me in a face to face contest and I've accepted his challenge," Randy replied.
"Umm…okay…so why did you call me then?" Artie asked, again looking the scrawny young man up and down and wondering if he would even be able to hold his own in a fight against a grade schooler.
"For moral support," Randy replied, "You're a big badass Artie and for some reason I've always felt so…empowered within your presence, almost like I feel…invincible!"
"Heh, you sure didn't feel that way when I was saving your ass from those robbers back at the Cluckin' Bell," Artie chuckled before doing his best attempt at impersonating Randy's whiny voice, "Oh god my life is shit! I don't wanna die!"
"Ha ha! Very funny," Randy groaned approaching Artie's Sentinel, "Can you please stop furthering my feelings of inadequacy and just drive me over to University Park? I have to show up by 1 o'clock or else he's going to think I pussed out and be inventing more reasons to cut me down on the message board."
"Fine, get in," Artie said deactivating his locks and climbing in to start it up followed closely by Randy, who quickly switched his radio station over to Symphony 104.1, playing Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons."
"Kid, don't you ever listen to any music made after the 18th century?" Artie asked coming to a halt at a stoplight.
"But this is how I get pumped up!" Randy exclaimed, "This is how I get myself in the mood to go out and as you would say 'rip somebody's head off and then shit down their fucking neck!' Whoo!"
"Are you kidding me? Ben Stein gets pumped up to this shit," Artie replied reaching for the radio knob, "If you wanna really get in the mood for killing somebody you would listen to this," he said switching the station over to 94.3 CSKD, which was playing "Mephitication" by Blood Red Throne.
Randy convulsed wildly at the sonic assault presented to his ears, quickly reaching into his pocket for his Lame Boy and switching on his 'Mighty Man' game.
"Gah! Now I'm really in the mood to go out and start killing things!" he said as a flurry of loud electronic beeps filled the car's interior, "Oh my god…I'm going into overdrive mode! I really want to start killing things now!" he screamed as if he were in the midst of a massive sugar rush, "Gah! That little girl over there…goddamn I could so take that ice cream cone, turn the son of a bitch sideways and shove it straight up her candy ass!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa there! Calm down killer, save it for the park!" Artie said as he purposely ran a red light, wanting to get Randy to his intended destination before he would try doing anything to him.
"Oh god, the batteries on my Lame Boy just died…and when I was just one-hundred points away from Mighty Man getting Flaming Man's powers…gah, now I really wanna kill something!" Randy said reaching over and grabbing the steering wheel, jerking it violently to the right and causing Artie to nearly run over a lady out for a late morning jog.
"Randy, will you settle the fuck down?" Artie screamed shoving his friend off and switching the radio station over to Rewind FM, which was playing the far calmer sounding "Toy Soldiers" by Martika. "Christ, I created a fucking monster within the span of seconds," he thought looking over to Randy, who still giggled giddily, yet was slowly starting to calm down, "I wonder how Zeke and Iceman can blast their music around him and it hasn't resulted in him shooting some place up yet?"
University Park wasn't far from the arcade and the hired gun found himself pulling up to a park that in some ways reminded him of a smaller version of Middle Park from Liberty City. A basketball game was in full swing on a nearby court and not far from that there were a few college students engaged in outdoor yoga exercises.
"Alright, I think we're here," the hired gun said snapping his friend out of his 'trance.'
"Now to teach that little bitch a lesson in respect," Randy spoke in his toughest tone possible; at least he tried sounding like a tough guy.
"Yeah sure," Artie replied unenthusiastically as he followed the ex-cashier along a bike trail where a few cyclists past them.
"Oh and one more thing, he says I have to come alone, so I'm gonna need you to hide," Randy replied as he turned his head around to do a double take on a young lady jogging with her Border Collie.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Artie asked as they walked past a sitting area where two guys were playing chess and another had an easel out and was painting a scene of the nearby lake while a gaggle of swans swam across it.
"You haven't seen this guy Artie. He's a total wimp and very out of shape to boot. Hell, even I could probably take him down in one punch," Randy replied.
"Well he must be quite the weakling then if even you can kick his ass without breaking a sweat," Artie replied as they walked past a busker playing an acoustic guitar.
"Ha ha," Randy grunted as they approached an open area filled with various statues, "Okay we're almost here, find a place to hide and I'll go deal with him."
"Right," Artie whispered back and hid behind some bronze sculpture that almost looked like it was made of clay, yet its plaque said it was supposed to be a physical representation of human agony, agony on the eyes the hired gun thought to himself as he watched Randy approach a wide open space near a fountain.
"Alright Fishman, I'm here! Show yourself!" the ex-cashier called out looking around.
"At last you have arrived my most hated adversary," a lisp-filled voice called out and Artie nearly died laughing as a squat figure waddled into view from behind a Minotaur statue.
The young man was roughly around Randy's age and stood roughly five feet five inches in height, yet had to be over two hundred pounds. His short brown hair was greasy and unkempt, with his face covered in acne scars, prominent buck teeth that made him look like a beaver and half-moon glasses that gave him an even more cartoonish look. He wore an aqua-colored sweater vest that hugged his flabby upper torso tightly, prominently displaying his man boobs, white short-sleeved shirt underneath, gray cargo shorts and some ratty red and white tennis shoes. From the smell of things, his clothes likely hadn't been washed in quite some time, causing him to literally smell like a rotting fish left in the sun.
"Alright Fishy, I showed up just like you wanted now why don't we finished this once and for all?" Randy said trying to sound macho, yet struggling not to trip over his words.
Fishy giggled loudly, spittle flying out of his mouth, "Oh we're going to finish this alright and in the end, I will be the undisputed master of Rushmore City's 'Denizen Foul' competitions and nobody will stop me when you are gone!"
"Well okay, we're going to attempt to 'get medieval' on each other's asses then aren't we?" Randy asked while scratching his underarms.
"Correction Randall Spitz, I never said that I was going to get medieval on your heathen ass, but I do have some people who will," Fishy replied.
On cue, six large muscle-bound men stepped into view, all of them wearing purple and white letterman jackets with logos identifying them as members of the Rushmore Chompers, the university's football team.
"Wh-What the hell is this?" Randy whimpered, feeling himself freeze in place as the six men approached him punching their fists into opened palms.
"It's pound cake time little bitch!" a tall man with slicked back brown hair called out stalking towards the much smaller Randy.
"I'll slap you so fucking hard it'll feel like you kissed a freight train," spat a blond-haired jock wearing a matching baseball cap.
"I'm gonna pound you harder than B.J. Smith pounded his second wife before she got cut up by that stranger in the night," shouted a black jock as he pounded his chest like a gorilla.
"Wh-What th-the hell do you th-th-th-think you're doing?" Randy stuttered as the jocks began to surround him.
"What do you think Spitz? I got some 'hired guns' to do my dirty work for me! You truly had no idea how rich my family is and what kind of friendship money can buy!" Fishy giggled excitedly.
"What the hell does that fat little bastard think he's doing?" Artie asked from his hiding place, "Those apes are gonna fucking kill Randy if I don't do something about it."
The hired gun leapt out from behind the statue and charged towards the group, "Alright, I think I've seen just about enough of this 6 on 1 bullshit!" he hollered.
"What the hell Spitz? You were supposed to come alone! You've violated the terms of the agreement!" Fishy shouted before pointing towards Artie, "Take him out too!"
The jocks turned their attention to Artie and with a collective war cry made their charge.
"Gotta think fast Artie! Just think of it like you're playing Fatton 2012, except this time you can actually hit your opponents for real," he thought to himself before he ducked low to avoid one of the oncoming players, sending the man flying over him and landing with a hard thud on the grass, but he was quickly tackled to the ground by another player and had to raise his arms to block the man's blows.
"I'm so gonna pound your ass pretty boy…in a non-sexual way that is," the jock called out as his meaty hands struck Artie's forearms, causing the hired gun to wince in pain under every blow.
Feeling a burst of energy, the hired gun used all of his leg strength to flip the big man off of him, only to be sent staggering backwards by a hard forearm blow from the baseball cap-wearing jock, who then kicked him hard in the gut and knocked the wind out of him.
"Trying to be the knight in shining armor and save your little girlfriend here are ya'?" the jock taunted before clubbing his upper back and dropping him to his knees.
Artie grimaced as a fresh wave of pain shot through his upper back and shoulders, but he still kept pushing forth and drove his fist upward into the man's groin, dropping him to the ground and giving him and opening to snatch the man's ankle and lock him into a painful joint lock, shaking violently until he was awarded with a loud crack.
"Ah fuck man! You broke my leg! We're supposed to play tomorrow against Spruce City you jackass!" the college student howled in pain.
"Well sucks to be you," Artie replied as he brought his arms up to block a punch directed at his face and then weaved around an attempted hook to deliver a hard punch to the next attacker's gut before delivering a hard uppercut that sent him staggering and finishing him with a reverse roundhouse kick that finally knocked him out cold.
"Oh shit!" Artie blurted out as the black jock picked up a trashcan and tried to toss it at him, forcing him to duck as it clattered against a wooden park bench.
Nearby Randy was scampering about on his hands and knees as a tall dark-haired man with a tanned complexion swiped down after him.
"C'mon pipsqueak! Let's make this quick. I've got a date in an hour!" the jock shouted as he tried to grab at Randy's ankles, only for the ex-cashier to crawl between his legs.
"This so isn't what I agreed to!" he whined as he man managed to grab hold of his underwear and gave him a hard wedgie as he attempted to crawl away.
"YAAAHH! I'm so staying away from message boards from now on!" Randy cried out as his fingers dug into the dirt.
"Why resist little man? You're only making this harder on yourself!" the jock laughed as he tried to turn himself around, only to step on a nearby rake and have the handle come flying up into his face, knocking him out cold.
Artie ducked as two of the jocks attempted to tackle him from opposite sides, sending the men colliding head on into one another and both knocking them out cold.
"Looks like it's just you and me!" called out the apparent leader of the pack, who dug his shoe into the grass like a bull preparing to charge, "Gonna show you what happens when you grab the bull by the horns!"
"In that case…Ole," Artie shouted back as he circled his remaining opponent, who made bull snorting noises to emphasize the bestial nature of his 'Bull' nickname.
With breakneck speed the big man charged towards Artie, who barely sidestepped the attack, but the jock was quick to catch himself and went for another charge, which the hired gun would again barely avoid and feel himself winded afterward.
"I could do this all day pretty boy!" the jock called out before flexing his muscles, "This is a finely tuned athletic machine you're dealing with right here!"
"Of course you're going to be 'finely tuned' with all the steroids your punk ass pops," Artie shot back, earning an angry growl from his opponent, who now attempted a flying tackle which he would try to duck, the man's foot catching him hard in the side as he tripped over him and hit the ground hard.
The hired gun cried out in pain as his side throbbed, but he tried to work through the pain as he saw the jock struggling to get up. Pushing himself back to his feet he snuck up behind the younger man and drove his elbow hard into the back of his head, knocking him out cold.
"Hey that's not fair!" Fishy shouted in disbelief, "You're not supposed to win! You were even supposed to bring help!" he shouted over to Randy.
"Look who's talking pal, I don't see you following the 'rules' either!" Artie shouted to the chunky nerd.
"Why you! I oughta'…" Fishy called out, only to trip over his words as the hired gun stared him down.
"You oughta' what? Suffocate us to death with that rancid body odor of yours? Flatten us with those jelly rolls?" Artie quipped, eliciting snickers from Randy.
Fishy's face turned beet red and he gnashed his teeth together as he tried to think of a comeback, but found himself at a loss for words and waddled towards a nearby Faggio, finding himself heavily winded before he could even reach it.
"This…This…This isn't over…Spitz! I'll be back…just you…wait and see…" he spoke between labored huffs before climbing onto the motor scooter and taking off.
"C'mon Artie, we can't let his fat ass get away!" Randy said as he leapt onto a red Faggio parked next to the one Fishy had taken.
"Alright I'm coming," Artie called back, knowing he would look like such a loser riding on a Faggio of all things. Climbing onto the scooter he fired the small vehicle up and proceeded after the fleeing fatass.
"I'm so kicking Randy's ass for this later," he thought as he sped down a footpath, trying to ignore the giggles of two attractive young ladies out for a walk.
"Faster!" Randy shouted trying to look over his head, only to nearly fall off in the process.
"I'm going as fast as this piece of shit will let me!" Artie shouted back as Fishy exited the footpath and cut across a picnic area where a birthday party was being held, barely dodging the swings of a blindfolded child attempting to hit a beaver-shaped piñata hanging from a tree. The hired gun followed and took a hard right to completely avoid the gathering.
"Will you please try being more careful? I nearly fell off!" Randy shouted from behind.
"You wanna drive? I'd be more than happy to oblige otherwise sit down and quit your bitching!" Artie shouted back as he followed Fishy back onto paved ground. "Christ, he's worse than a woman," he muttered under his breath.
Fishy began getting reckless as he became more desperate, nearly clipping a hobo who had been digging through a trashcan before he again treaded onto the grass and forced a birdwatcher to leap out of the way. Eventually he would bolt through a playground, but thankfully would not strike any children before making his way back onto solid ground.
"It's only a matter of time before we catch your stinky ass you fat fuck!" Randy shouted to his fleeing rival.
"You're not as good as you think Spitz, you're gonna fail just like you have all the other times!" Fishy called back as they entered the Jefferson Beach district, nearly running over a street performer and causing his audience to disperse.
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Artie muttered as he followed the overconfident fatass onto the boardwalk, sending more pedestrians scattering.
"Once again you've lost Spitz!" Fishy called back looking over his shoulder, "At last I've had my-"
Just as Francis Fishman looked ahead he saw there was no path there and found the Faggio going airborne as he approached a stairwell, the scooter landing hard and skidding along on its side, sending the portly geek rolling into a wooden crate filled with fish.
"Only proper," Artie laughed to Randy as he brought the Faggio to a halt and approached the stairwell to see Fishy pushing himself back to his feet and waddling along.
"Your ass is mine fat boy!" Randy shouted running down the stairs after his hated rival.
"Now this I've gotta see," Artie whispered to himself following after his companion.
Fishy attempted to shout back at the scrawny man chasing after him, but he was already winded from having to run along the fishing pier, where the fishermen found themselves distracted by the flabby bespectacled man and broke into a fit of laughter, which amplified to the level of hysteria as Randy was just inches away from catching his prey, only to slip and fall on a dead fish.
Fortunately for him, there was nowhere left for Francis Fishman to run as he found himself at the end of the dock with his foot entangled in a rope.
"End of the road Fishy," Artie said, only to wave his hand in front of him as he caught a whiff of the man's rancid odor.
"You…might have…won this round…but it's not over…yet," the portly man huffed and puffed while struggling to maintain his balance.
"No, you might've actually won this round…your fat ass actually got some exercise!" Artie laughed, prompting snicker from the nearby fishermen.
"Fuck you! You're nothing but a cheater…and a bully!" Fishy shouted back still struggling to keep his balance.
"Me, a cheater? Heh, you oughta' be one to talk when it was you who tried to put six 'roid monkeys up against one scrawny pipsqueak," Artie said looking back to his companion, who was around five feet seven inches in height and had to be roughly 140 pounds soaking wet.
"Hey!" Randy shouted back, offended at the last comment.
"Well…you just wait and see…I'll show you…sometime or later!" Fishy said trying to sound tough, but just looking like a complete buffoon in the end.
"C'mon Randy let's go, we're done with Shamu," Artie motioned towards his companion, before suddenly turning around and leaping at their target, "BOO!"
Fishy yelped in terror and fell backwards over the edge, yet there was no splash.
Artie and Randy both went to see what had happened and found themselves having to hold back laughter as Fishy dangled by his ankle from the rope, in plain view of some people who were partying on a nearby Marquis and laughing raucously at the pathetic sight.
"Hey, don't just stand there! Get me down from here!" Fishy shouted to the partiers as he hung upside down, "Seriously, I get nosebleeds really bad and I have irritable bowels!"
"Okay, now we'd better get out of here," Artie spoke at the revelation and began walking away from the dangling geek.
"Holy shit, thanks a lot Artie! I owe you one," Randy said rushing to catch up with the hired gun, "Seriously man, I'll have to help you in any way I can after what you've done. I'm not used to having people do good deeds for me like that; it really means a lot dude."
"Don't mention it. If I were in your case I'm sure I'd want some big tough badass standing up for me too," Artie said ogling some ladies walking around in tiny bikinis.
"Well now that I've got access to my laptop…" he spoke before realizing there were other people around and leaned closer to his companion, "…I can hack into someone's account and actually pay you this time around. It can't be much though; I don't wanna raise too many suspicions."
"Heh, I thought you were supposed to be a hotshot hacker. If you're such a 'hotshot' then why are you worried about raising so many suspicions? Don't you think you should be living in an Emerald Hill penthouse apartment about now?" Artie chuckled, "Look at the guy who started Spacebook. He was living on his best friend's couch one day and the next he was in a Maricon Valley penthouse apartment!"
"Given my luck, I'd be in a Maricon Valley penthouse apartment one day and in the gutter being pissed on the next," Randy groaned as they ascended a short flight of stairs and approached a bus stop.
"You sure you don't want a ride back to the bar?" Artie asked as a small group assembled in the bus stop kiosk.
"No, I'll be alright, really," Randy replied waiting as the Coach showed up and got onboard.
With his companion gone he spotted a truck shaped like a taco nearby belonging to Taco Hell and decided now could be a good time to get some lunch.
He got in line behind the only other patron, an overweight Mexican guy in a loud Hawaiian shirt and jean shorts.
"Yeah, I'll take two of your large Tamiel Tacos, three of your Beelzebub Burritos, four Corson Quesadillas, one order of Caim's Chimichangas and a mega-sized diet Secsi," the gluttonous man said as he struggled to get a hand into his pocket.
"Artie!" the hired gun heard a woman's voice call out to him, but turned around to find no one he recognized.
"Artie, over here!" the woman called out again and he looked over near a line of payphones to find a woman with short feathered brunette hair and large sunglasses waving to him.
"Who are you?" he demanded cautiously approaching the woman, keeping a hand on his concealed handgun.
"Artie, it's me," the woman said removing her sunglasses to reveal more of her familiar face.
"Monica?" he whispered back noticing her looking around nervously, "What's going on?" he demanded.
The woman looked around nervously before pulling him closer and whispering into his ear, "It's my husband. I think he's hired a hitman to kill me. I honestly don't know for sure, but ever since I left the house I've had this feeling like someone's been following me."
Artie now found himself looking around to see if the woman's paranoia could be justified. For all he saw, everybody else appeared to be going out their usual routines on the beach with ladies sunbathing, couples playing beach volleyball and even some young people racing around in BF Injection dune buggies.
"Well so far everything seems normal to me," the hired gun said placing a hand over his eyes to shield them from the bright sunlight, until he noticed some weird-looking guy wearing a tan sunhat and loud Hawaiian shirt who was aiming his camera directly at Monica.
"Oh shit, get down!" he said grabbing the woman by the shoulders and pulling her to the ground, a bullet striking a small billboard promoting the Swigger's liquor store.
Artie rose to his feet and charged towards the mystery man, only to find him reaching for a briefcase at his side and pointing it towards him like a gun, again forcing him to leap out of the way as a muffled bang sounded from the silenced pistol inside.
The hired gun withdrew his Glock 22 and took aim at the disguised gunman, prompting him to turn on his heel and run as several onlookers shrieked in panic.
"Outta my way," Artie shouted to the citizens in front of him as he watched the gunman yank a woman out of her Feroci and speed off. Cursing under his breath he looked to his right to find a parked Shitzu Hakuchou and leapt onto it, its station set at Radio GX and playing "Undead" by Hollywood Undead.
"You're not getting away that easily you bastard," he said aloud as he watched the hijacked Feroci slam into an oncoming Intruder and send its driver flying through the windshield. Artie gunned the street bike's engine and nearly ran over some pedestrians who had come to check on the injured motorist, narrowly avoiding an empty beer bottle being thrown at his head.
Artie took a hard left around the corner to find the reckless gunman speeding through a side street where Latino hip-hop artist Chihuahua was in the middle of shooting a music video and he slammed into a Savanna lowrider being used, sending all the models inside flying out and running over a big booty Latina. The hired gun maneuvered a little more easily around the cast and crew members as he continued his pursuit of the would-be assassin.
The errand boy got into position and was preparing to open fire, but a Rhapsody hatchback turned onto the street and forced him to cut around it, but by then the Feroci had cut off a Dragon Wagon delivery van coming from the opposite direction and forcing it to swerve sideways, providing yet another unwanted obstacle for Artie to avoid.
"This fucker's really starting to piss me off," he thought to himself as he cut onto a sidewalk and forced several pedestrians to leap aside before cutting off a '92 Bobcat pulling up to a stoplight just as the Feroci made another right hand turn, the persistent hired gun still nipping away at his heels.
Artie was finally able to raise his Glock and fired three shots at the fleeing Feroci, one which would strike a brake light and the other two shattering the rear window. The gunman pulled another reckless stunt as he pulled in front of an oncoming Flatbed transporting a mounted crane, only to swerve out of its path at the last second hoping it would jackknife, but his pursuer again gunned the engine and managed to get out of the way just in time.
"You're not losing me that easily pal," he grumbled raising his gun and squeezing off two more rounds, both of them missing his intended target being one of the car's wheels. The driver made a sharp left just as Artie fired another shot that missed, right in front of an oncoming police cruiser.
"Oh shit," he spat as the cruiser's lights flashed on.
"R.C.P.D., you have violated a city ordinance prohibiting firearms from being discharged in public. Pull over immediately or we will be authorized to use deadly force on your law breaking ass!" the cop called out over his megaphone.
"Like hell I will," Artie muttered as he continued his pursuit of the fleeing gunman and noticed he was turning onto a street where another Flatbed was waiting at a stoplight, this one transporting large pipes. His target had already cleared the vehicle, but he ended up raising his gun and fired at the restraints holding the pipes in place, hoping he could use them to slow the officer down, but it was all for naught as his pullets pinged harmlessly off the iron sides, missing the tethers by inches.
"Damn it," he spat as another patrol car joined the pursuit and his target was getting farther away. He did what he could to ignore the officers and their threats being barked at him and continued his pursuit of the Feroci.
The fleeing car made another sharp left turn into the Osbourne Dale district and slamming into a vest-wearing punk, prompting the guy's black-clad friends to open fire upon the Feroci, yet doing little to slow it down as it sped past the Margera Skate Park. Artie again caught up and fired another round at the fleeing car, but his bullet only succeeded in striking the passenger side's rearview mirror. Before he could squeeze off another round he was cut off by a patrol car trying to block his path, forcing him to a screeching halt as a shotgun-toting officer emerged.
"Surrender at once!" the cop barked, but Artie's eyes remained focused on the fleeing car and he gunned the engine speeding around the car and narrowly avoiding a round of buckshot directed at his face.
The hired gun cut across another footpath and sped over a hill into a nearby alley, only to find the shot up Feroci had been abandoned and the gunman was nowhere in sight.
"Motherfucker!" he screamed, but could hear the police sirens getting closer and knew he had to get out of there.
Fortunately there was a Pay n' Spray nearby and he was able to enter the garage without being spotted by the cops.
"I need this bike repainted and the tires replaced," Artie said handing the key to a man in a soiled blue jumper.
"No problem pal, come back in an hour," the mechanic said accepting the keys.
Artie exited the garage and could still hear the sirens in the distance, but he looked over to find a Hinterland store nearby and quickly made his way inside.
Needing a change of clothes to lose the heat, he purchased a navy blue Hinterland coat and a pair of navy and black track pants. Seeing they were next door to an Eris shoe store and feeling in the mood for spending a few extra dollars he walked in and purchased a pair of Hancock athletic shoes.
Now wearing new clothes with his old ones in a bag, the hired gun made his way outside just as a police car was speeding past and he quickly looked off to the side, sighing in relief as the cruiser disappeared without incident.
Having lost the heat Artie reached into his pocket and grabbed his cell phone, shuffling through his list of contacts until he came to Monica Belding's name and hit the speed dial button.
"Oh my god, please tell me you got rid of that guy," the young woman pleaded.
Artie exhaled heavily before speaking, "I'm afraid not. He got away."
"What?" she screamed, "What the hell do you mean that bastard got away? Oh my god, he's going to find me and kill me! God Artie I seriously don't know what to do. I'm as good as dead now that he knows I'm still alive," the woman spoke fighting back tears.
"Monica, try to calm down. Just keep your head down and call me if you find anything suspicious," Artie replied.
Labored breathing came from the other end followed by a few low whimpers, "Okay, I will."
The call ended and Artie shoved the phone back into his pocket, wondering if he would encounter the mysterious gunman again and furthermore if he would be able to protect Monica from him.
He would worry about that later as he looked over to see an Al Dente's a few doors down from the Pay n' Spray and remembered he was about to get himself something for lunch before Monica interrupted him. With some time to kill until his newly-acquired Hakuchou was ready he decided he would get something to eat.
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Author's Note: Although Artie Cappelli may be a badass hitman, he's not perfect and I decided to have him fail to stop the gunman for the sake of realism so he could avoid the not too kindly 'Mary Sue' (or I should say 'Marty Stu' seeing as he's a guy) label.
This was another chapter rife with parodies galore and I know I'm going to have a hard time remembering all of them and there is a good chance I might miss a few little things here and there.
The Hi-Fi Hut electronics store next door to Azonkalypse is meant to be a parody of Radio Shack and Taco Hell is obviously intended to be a parody of Taco Bell. The taco-shaped truck Artie was approaching before his 'random encounter' was intended to be a play on Oscar Meyer's 'Wiener Mobile.' Some of the names that Mexican guy listed in the foods he purchased were based upon the names of demons from religious texts.
I was going to save this parody until the next chapter, but Diet Secsi is intended to be a spoof of Diet Pepsi and that would mean Secsi is a spoof of the regular Pepsi.
The video arcade was another place chocked with parodies galore, including 'Road Burner,' which spoofs 'Super Hang On' and just in general any other motorcycle racing game where you mount a mock motorcycle as part of the controls. 'Jig Jig Uprising' was a parody of 'Dance Dance Revolution,' 'Super Barrio Bros.' is a parody of 'Super Mario Bros.' and the game Randy was playing 'Calamity Sector' was intended to be a spoof of 'Crisis Zone,' a spinoff from the 'Time Crisis' series where you used a light gun control shaped like a submachine gun. Also mentioned, but not present in the arcade, 'Denizen Foul' is a spoof of 'Resident Evil' and the Despot is a spoof of the Tyrant. The 'Smack-a-Ho' is a parody of the common 'Whack-a-Mole' carnival game.
Another video game parodied that does not appear in the arcade is 'Fatton 2012,' which is a spoof of the 'Madden' football games franchise. 'Fatton' is also a reference to Larry the Cable Guy's roast on Comedy Central from a few years back where Greg Giraldo was mocking the pink camouflage dress Lisa Lampanelli was wearing and saying that she "looked like General Fatton."
For another video game parodied that DOES appear in the arcade, 'Gimp Wars' is a spoof of 'Star Wars' and the dildo-shaped controller being swung at the screen was inspired by this arcade game I saw in an arcade in Madison, which was a samurai sword fighting game where the controller was shaped like the handle of a katana and the player would swing it at the screen. The concept of using a dildo in the place of a light saber was also inspired by that spoof of 'Star Wars' they do in "Zack and Miri Make a Porno" called 'Star Whores' in which they used dildos that looked like light sabers.
The Lame Boy which Randy plays is an obvious spoof of Game Boy and Mighty Man is intended to be a spoof of the 'Mega Man' franchise.
Spacebook is an obvious parody of Facebook and Maricon Valley is a spoof of Silicon Valley, "maricon" being a Central American slang term for an effeminate homosexual male.
The Juggernauts are going to be the professional football team from Rushmore City and they are inspired by Juggernaut from the X-Men comics. Then again, it could also reference a woman's 'jugs' to keep in sync with Rockstar's innuendo-laced humor.
The Chompers will be Rushmore University's football team and their name is another reference I thought up to the term 'Carpet muncher,' but substituting 'munch' with a variation of the same function and make their team mascot a piranha.
Chihuahua is a parody of the rapper Pitbull and I figured I would use the name of a Latin-sounding dog to spoof him this time around. I'm thinking I might possibly expand upon his character in further chapters.
Randy's rival Francis 'Fishy' Fishman was inspired by Fatty from the Rockstar game "Bully," who was also the kid you would wrestle against in gym class.
Randy's dialogue about wanting to shove the little girl's ice cream cone up her candy ass is inspired by The Rock and the line where that jock said "I'll slap you so fucking hard it'll feel like you kissed a freight train" is a line borrowed from Five Finger Death Punch's song "War is the Answer." The joke the last jock makes about B.J. Smith pounding his wife is obviously a joke directed at O.J. Simpson.
The gunman's weapons were inspired by the CIA vs. KGB episode from the Spike TV series 'Deadliest Warrior,' where for their mid-range weapon the KGB uses a special gun equipped with .22 rounds hidden inside of a camera and the CIA's mid-range weapon being a silenced Walther PPK hidden inside a briefcase.
Whew! Well that's everything (I hope) on the parody front so until then as always read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/