Chapter 30: Throw Down
Eventually, our heroes (and villains) find their way to a nearby city. As they wind through the bustling streets, taking in the sights and sounds of urban Japan, a confrontation becomes inevitable..
"There it is!" Jill exclaims, yanking her beret down in astonishment with both hands before pointing frantically and hopping up and down.
The good guys follow her pointing with a shared turn of heads...
ooo
"There it is!" Alfred screams, slapping himself across the jaw to contain his excitement.
The bad guys simultaneously raise their eyebrows in confusion, and glance in the direction of Alfred's astonished gaze...
ooo
Game Champ stands proudly amidst the other buildings along the crowded venue, an enormous animatronic Hello Kitty mascot dressed in Master Chief battle armor poised over the entrance. One of the mascot's eyes is hanging loose and sparking as its robotic jaws open and close to the rhythm of its left arm gradually moving up and down. "Gonk. Gonk. Gonk."
Simultaneously, both groups round opposing street corners and spot the building. Simultaneously, both groups race forward with ravenous abandon.
Locals and tourists alike yelp in surprise and scramble out of the way as the two forces converge upon the game store. Barry makes noises like a train to help out.
Chris and Wesker are first on the scene, grappling, screeching, and pulling hair like grade-schoolers. Their respective groups await quietly on either side of the brawl, doing such as shaking their heads disapprovingly toward members of the other team, and pounding fists into palms. Brad even goes as far as to hock a loogey and spit it aside.
Game Champ's part-time greeter stares in awe and a smidge of fright at the sudden violence, but he quickly gathers his wits. He bows to the...customers...and opens the door for them, gesturing inside.
Chris and Wesker cease their scuffling briefly, looking at the greeter, the door, and then at each other.
Tensions are high.
Wesker slaps Chris and hurriedly ducks inside the shop. Chris wipes his hands down his face several times in rapid succession, making a frustrated squealing noise before running in after Wesker.
ooo
Hunk cracks his neck one way, then the other. The other bad guys chuckle darkly and nod their approval/support. Hunk remains coldly stoic. Like a big muscular human-shaped icicle.
Jill 'hmphs' and raises her eyebrows in somewhat feigned acknowledgment. Not to be outdone though, she rebuts by cracking her knuckles, then her toes, her knees, her left shoulder, and- with a twist of her hips- cracks her spine loudly. Meeting Hunk's eyes unwaveringly, she then reaches back and cracks her butt. Hunk narrows his eyes just noticeably, while the other bad guys 'oooh' quietly and lean back, wincing in recognition of a total badass.
Rap battle incoming.
Two microphones lower on cables. William looks over and elbows a boombox. It starts pumping out some hard beats. Salazar grabs the first microphone as it lowers. The second mic bops Leon on the head, and he ducks, glaring at it for a second before he snatches it up.
Salazar is the first to rap. He strides up confidently and crafts his rhyme. "Oh look, what we have, Meester Scott Kennedy- he's caught a nasty virus and there's no remedy- if he slept with less hos, he wouldn't be such a loser –we know the president's daughter is a substance abuser."
The pint-sized minion cackles wickedly as his comrades whoop and holler, and the good guys boo and hiss, along with an angry "F(clown shoe)CK YOU!" from Ashley. Leon seems unfazed, though. As he holds his mic thoughtfully, arms folded across his chest, the agent merely smirks. It's his turn to step up..
"That's a lot of tall talk about some stupid little virus- I've got a fly grill, your face is crumpled up papyrus- my hair is straight and my skin is clean- you look like you could use some Maybelline." Leon grins as the good guys cheer him on. Salazar is infuriated, and the bad guys are just covering their mouths and trying not to laugh.
"NO MORE GAMES!" Salazar screams, swiping his arm aside in a violent gesture. "KILL. KILL!"
Verdugo runs up out of nowhere, hissing and swinging its clawed arms. Sherry stoically blasts it with a hastily concocted batch of liquid nitrogen. Leon then roundhouse kicks it, shattering the minion.
"Well, that happened," Jill grunts. "Alright, NEXT UP."
Alfred shoves his way to the front of his group, panting angrily. "Let ME handle this, you morons!" He takes a moment to compose himself and make sure that his hair is super nice and neat. Meanwhile, Brad- in a surprising display of bravery- takes the other mic. He is breathing hard through his nose and getting himself super pumped up.
"Ok, yo yo yo!" Alfred shouts, as the boombox continues to pour sick beats into the mean streets. "My name is Alfred, and I'm here to say- Brad Vickers is a coward and he's SUPER GAY!- He flies a chopper like my mom bakes cake- and abandons his teammates when their lives are at stake!" Alfred blows a kiss and winks at Brad, who is fuming. The two teams express such exclamations as 'Daaaaaamn' and 'oh hell no!'
"Listen up!" Brad barks into his mic. "You call me gay, but you're a cross-dressing FREAK.- My rhymes are stellar, your words are WEAK.- You shoot like my grandma and your wig is made of yarn- your chump-ass couldn't hit the side of a barn!"
Brad drops the mic, but since it's on a cable from above it just kind of hangs there. It's still cool though, it's still cool. The two groups are in an uproar now. Alfred is bawling hysterically, Brad is doing a little breakdance, and Barry is trying to give everyone high-fives. The scene is getting CRAZY. Meanwhile, inside the Game Champ...
ooo
Chris barrels down one isle, while Wesker races down another. Both men tear through game after game, bloodshot eyes hungrily searching for the one, the only, Resident Evil 5. "HAH!" Wesker cries suddenly, victoriously. Chris gasps in dismay, and stands on his tip-toes to peer into the next isle at his foe.
Wesker is standing there grinning, holding a copy of 'My Little Pony: So Many Picnics' for the PS3. The grin slowly fades from Wesker's face as realization sinks in. Wordlessly, he turns his head in a careful motion to meet Chris's worried gaze. A moment of uncomfortable silence passes between them.
Chris very slowly ducks out of view behind the aisle.
ooo
Back outside, the scene is PRETTY CRAZY. A small crowd has gathered around the two groups. The beat box is at full volume. Billy and Marcus have just gone. Marcus was boo'd instantly when he started singing opera. Billy fared only slightly better, sputtering out after he tried to rhyme something with 'orange'. Before that, Steve threw down with Nemesis. Steve actually did fairly well, busting out some fierce poetry. Nemesis just screamed at him when it was his turn, which was hilarious because he is still aged down.
Ada is up next, and surprisingly, Excella has shown up to challenge her. Ada starts off. "I guess in your country, they never heard of braziers- Your outfit is lacking, and does not induce fear- Nice heels, by the way, I'm sure you get away fast- In a zombie apocalypse, your ass would be grass."
Excella, her eyes full of bra-less Italian fury, grabs her mic and answers immediately. "Like you've got room to talk, in your silk and your stilettos- You wouldn't last a DAY in the Umbrella Corp. ghettos- You call yourself a spy but you're not fooling anyone- I'm surprised you even know how to handle a gun."
"Pull her hair!" Steve shouts. The groups are in an uproar. But surprisingly, Excella and Ada play it cool. They do that thing where you nod but your head goes up instead of down. It is a sign of totally cool mutual respect for one another.
"Hella respect," Barry grunts, putting on a hat and turning it sideways.
Ashley and Krauser step up next. Krauser makes an awful face at Ashley, who responds by reaching into her pocket and pulling out a-.. oh she's flipping him off. She's.. pretending that she found a middle finger in her pocket, essentially is the joke here. I see. Nice one, Ashley!
Grabbing the mic, Ashley throws down with absolutely zero hesitation. "You're a muscle-bound jerk with a penchant for betrayal- With your science fair robot squad just READY to fail- You think you're so big and you think you're so bad- But you're not scaring anybody; cute facepaint, comrade."
Krauser is so steamin' mad that his face matches the red streaks adorning his little cheeky-weekys. "You're just a blonde-haired bimbo and your head is full of air- your one redeeming factor is your vacant stare- 'cause when you open your mouth, we all cover our ears- your insufferable voice is what we truly fear."
Ashley runs forward, barking and foaming at the mouth, her eyes full of Crazy. The good guys hold her back desperately, and Annette injects her with a sedative. The crew drags Ashley back as she weakly kicks her leg and lets out a few more weak barks. The bad guys look somewhat nervous.
ooo
Inside the shop, Chris and Wesker have resorted to running up and down the aisles and just throwing games and merchandise around without one single care. Other shoppers in the store give them a wide berth, and mutter such as "Freaking Americans," every now and then.
One oblivious little boy stands in the middle of the aisle, watching the hijinks ensue. He is licking an oversized lollipop. Wesker runs up, does a misty flip over the boy, and lands behind him, continuing on his way. Chris follows, but stops when he reaches the boy. The muscled hero picks the tyke up and looks at his chubby little face. "Son, do you like justice?"
"Eh, it's ok I guess," the boy replies. Chris grins tightly, and nods.
"Good. Tell me where to find the Resident Evil 5 game. It's for justice."
"That game sucks," the kid scoffs, 'pff'ing. Chris grins even more tightly.
"Just.. tell me.. where.. to find it.. before I crush your adorable little skeleton."
Shrugging, the boy gestures with a nod to a shelf behind the counter. There, in plain view, sits exactly one copy of Resident Evil 5.
Chris gasps super slowly and deeply, filling his chest with sweaty air. "THANKSKID," he gushes dropping the boy. The young lad parachutes to safety as Chris bolts to the front of the store-
But a dark blur intercepts him. Chris looks up in horror as Wesker now stands at the checkout counter, cackling wickedly. The clerk just stares tiredly at him. Wesker composes himself. "I would like your finest copy of Resident Evil 5, starring Me," he orders politely. As Chris looks on in helpless, butt-curdling terror, the clerk turns to retrieve the copy..
"That'll be five bucks."
Wesker smiles confidently, and reaches into his pocket. Then his other pocket. The smile becomes strained as the villain pats himself down, muttering under his breath. "..could have sworn I had some dough on me.."
He spins around suddenly. "Redfield. Lend me five bucks."
Chris puffs his cheeks out and then expels a lip-flapping noise resembling a laugh and a sneeze. "Fat chance, Alberto Gomez!" he guffaws, shaking his head at Wesker in stark disbelief.
Wesker grits his teeth, a tight growl rising in his throat as he grabs his nemesis by the cheeks. Chris frowns defiantly and breathes fast and hard through his nose.
"Sir," the clerk interrupts, "if you can't pay, then get out of the line. I have other customers, ya know."
Composing himself once again, determined to cling to whatever dignity he may have left, Wesker straightens his trenchcoat, sniffs aloofly toward Chris, turns to the right, and immediately breaks down sobbing.
"Ha ha," Chris laughs, amused at his enemy's expense. He then steps up to the counter and addresses the clerk. "Yo yo yo, roll that fatty for this pimp daddy."
"Five bucks," the clerk repeats.
Chris stops smiling, and appears to be somewhat insulted. "...I don't have any money."
ooo
Outside, Jill is spinning around on her head, breaking it on down like no one else can. She then props herself up on one hand, kicks her legs out, pops a hop, and lands in a split. Somehow she is wearing sunglasses now, and she folds her arms across her chest. "Hell yea, son," she says. The good guys whoop and holler and carry on in quite a ruckus.
Meanwhile, Carlos is performing a traditional Latin samba. Marcus narrows his eyes. "I thought you were Native American," he ponders aloud.
Carlos rolls his eyes as he finishes the dance, yielding light applause from his cohorts. "You think Japanese video game developers know the difference between a Native American and a Latin American?" Marcus raises his eyebrows and nods thoughtfully, considering this.
The rap battle had transformed into a dance-off for a little while. Barry and Morpheus had gone previously, Barry displaying the average dancing ability of a middle-aged white male, while Morpheus could seriously not stop laughing long enough to dance back.
For some time, Hunk and William have been making a lot of really mean faces at one another. Currently, William is jutting his lower jaw out and pulling his cheeks down, while Hunk is pulling his nose up and making sounds like a dying moose. Carlos shoves Hunk forward. Jill shoves William forward. The two enemies meet in the middle, coldly staring at one another as their respective crews cheer and chant and rant and pant. Barry starts doing a really insane fast jig.
Hunk grabs the mic first. "Doctor Birkin, I presume, by your idiotic hair- you moved into the Raccoon City ninja turtle lair- you'd better tell your wife to call an ambulance soon- you're gonna need a TEAM of medics for 'that bullet wound'."
"That's funny," William remarks, donning an enormous smile as he grabs his mic. The smile drops from his face as he glares at Hunk. "You second rate lap dog, slinking around- you don't belong in the sewer, you belong in the POUND- you want a 'sample' so bad, then I'll give you a taste- my rhymes will cut you to pieces, your teammates are toothpaste."
"YEAH, SON!" Annette screams, stomping toward the badguys and throwing out gang signs. "WHAT? WHAT?" Sherry quickly retrieves her mother before somebody decides to shoot the deranged woman.
The crowd is about as out of control as a crowd of native Japanese citizens can be. One or two people are actually raising their voices, even. Both the good guys and the bad guys continue to taunt and provoke one another as the boom box jams. Somehow, Kamesen and Anthony find themselves before the microphones.
"ME FIRST," Kamesen shouts. "You uh, you.. are such a hopeless romantic, you.. er, totally like Rebecca Chambers, but you.. also really admire Claire, and.. she's.. got pretty hair. Um..." Everyone starts sighing and rolling their eyes as the author continues his off-beat stuttering. "Something something, you're an idiot."
Anthony just slaps a hand over his face and refuses to even begin to try and rap.
The rest of the crew becomes restless. "Who's going NEXT?" Steve demands, pacing about furiously. Ada grabs him and gives him a firm shake, informing him that if he doesn't calm down, she will discretely dump him into the nearest toilet.
ooo
Alexia C. Ashford wearily lifts her head, blinking unevenly as the walls drift back and forth in her bleary drunk-o-vision. "Fffffuuuuuu-..." the menacing matriarch moans, and then belches wetly. "Shala...zler.. Salad-czar..." She scrunches her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose as she attempts to sit up straight in her throne. "Salazar...bring me.. soda."
"Salazar isn't here, remember?" a shrill voice cracks. Alexia keeps her eyes shut for a beat. Then she opens them, appearing both angry and confused. She looks up to find the source of the voice.
Across the grand room, two blurry figures with long blonde hair warp and shimmer. Alexia blinks hard several times, trying to bring them into focus. Both figures overlap suddenly, forming one...man?
Osmund Saddler in a wig and lipstick sits on his throne, staring quizzically at Alexia.
The woman's eyes widen as she beholds this monstrosity. Saddler's eyes likewise become wider, albeit in fear and sudden realization. He yanks the wig off of his head, forcing a grin as he stuffs it behind his back.
Alexia just continues to stare unblinking at him. "I do not even want to know."
ooo
Alfred's communicator bleeps several times. He hurriedly yanks it out of his pocket, ripping his shirt in the process. Screaming in frustration, Alfred hits the 'receive' button. His sister's hungover visage appears on the screen. "SISSIE!" Alfred squeals, his angry face turning into a happy face.
"Shut up," Alexia mutters, wincing as her brother's shrill voice pierces her ears. "I need a status update and a Bloody Mary."
"We're having a rap battle!" Alfred cries. "It's totally hip and cool and such."
"HEY!" Claire yells from her group. "Is that Alexia? Tell her she smells bad!"
Alfred promptly shoots Claire an appalled/shocked glance, his mouth hanging open. Claire walks up and stuffs a hoagie in his face.
"I challenge you," she states, glancing at the communication screen.
Alexia stares at Claire. "...Naaaah I don't feel like it."
"Aw COME ON," Claire insists, stamping a foot.
Sighing, Alexia submits and prepares to throw down harsh rap wizardry. "I don't even know who you are; that's how little you matter- you look like Punky Brewster, only taller and fatter- get the f(bicycle bell)ck out my base, you insufferable twit- I don't have time for your idiotic girlscout bullsh(record scratch)t."
Alfred screams gleefully and then waves his fanny at Claire, mocking her horribly. Claire responds by snapping her microphone off of its cord and throwing it as hard as she can at his ass. Alfred crumples to the street, sobbing in disbelief, while Claire grabs the other mic and lays it down.
"You're a miserable matriarch with the brain of an ant- your dad was a moron, your brother a sycophant- I'll put you on ice, since you like it so cold- then I'll call up your grandmother, and put her on HOLD."
Barry turns his hat the other way, wheezing breathlessly in shock of how badly Alexia was just burned. He can't even summon enough breath to say 'Oh DAMN'. Jill is breakdancing, Billy is nodding furiously, and Brad is making some sort of lude gesture. Rebecca is just waving her arms going "YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!"
The bad guys have just about had it with this nonsense. But before the situation can escalate higher than a stoned space cadet, Chris and Wesker get thrown out of the store, landing hardcore hard on their butt-butts. Both men hop to their feet, growling and rubbing their bums as the shopkeep dusts his hands off and then politely bows while inviting them to come again once they actually have some cold hard cash.
"What the hell happened?" Jill asks as both teams huddle around their mighty leaders.
Chris rubs the back of his head, and Wesker suddenly decides to clean his sunglasses. They look ashamed.
Carlos sighs. "You didn't have the dinero, eh?"
"Well that's no big deal," Morpheus interjects. "We'll just pool our resources!"
Both groups immediately part and begin to throw all the contents of their pockets into two separate piles.
After a few minutes of scrambling, patting, plucking, digging, searching, swearing, hurt feelings, and not a little panting, there are two mounds of random odds and ends. Chris and Wesker order their respective teammates/henchman to sort through each pile and tally up how much cash they have.
On the good guy's side: Twelve balls of lint, two combs, a half-eaten pack of peanut butter crackers, five sticks of warm gum, one of those pinup lady pens where you flip it upside-down and her bikini comes off, a broken flashlight, a matchbook from the Holiday Inn, some peanut butter, forty dollars in Monopoly money, an ant named Jeoffry, two red gems, a sword crest, three pairs of handcuffs, a ballistics license, tickets to a Linkin Park concert, a lockpick set, keys to a sweet bike, a hand mirror with lipstick on it, a sample of the G-Virus (which Annette scurries to grab up), a melted piece of gold-wrapped chocolate, thirty-seven blue herbs, water ammo for a water pistol, blood for the Blood God, and a wooden nickel.
On the bad guy's side: Seven combs, eighty-nine tubes of extra-strength hair gel, extra sunglasses, a picture of Rebecca Chambers in her gym uniform with eraser marks over her shirt, some Flintstones Kids chewable vitamins, night vision goggles, night vision glasses, night vision contact lenses, four packets of syrup, an unused sniper rifle scope, a broken laser sight, more sunglasses, a VHS of The Magic Schoolbus, a Captain Clownface Super Face Paint kit, a red herb, a rocket launcher, a copy of Electric Pikachu Boogaloo, someone's underwear, a brick of tofu, three leeches, a hairbrush, and a waffle.
"NONE of us have any money?" Wesker shouts in disbelief, grabbing the sides of his head. The bad guys hang their heads in shame and perform other such actions as rubbing their toes against the ground and wringing their hands behind their back. Nemesis obliviously chews on the waffle.
Chris frantically starts searching his teammates pockets, insisting that someone MUST have a fiver tucked away somewhere that they've forgotten about. Claire pops him a solid one across the jaw. "Get a grip, Chris. No one's got any dough," she laments.
The disheartened leader falls to his knees, digging his hands into the pile of miscellaneous items. "But it can't end like this.." as he lifts his hands, the items fall through his fingers. "We've GOT to get that game! We've just GOT to! After all this time... and we came all this way..."
Barry frowns at seeing his teammate in such a sorry state. The large man lumbers on over to Chris, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Chris. Don't let it get you down. Let's just go back home..."
"Yeah," Billy chortles, folding his arms over his chest, "and hope we don't hit any toll booths on the way."
A moment of eerie silence passes. Chris slowly rises to his feet, and a look of gradual realization is upon his face as he turns around to face his team. "Billy...say that again.."
Billy narrows his eyes. "...toll booths?"
"BOOTHS!" Chris shrieks, grinning like a kid who just woke up to find that Christmas and Easter had been combined into one super holiday.
Everyone leans back, somewhat alarmed by their leader's outburst.
"Booths!" Chris yells again. "We'll set up BOOTHS and have people PAY MONEY to DO THINGS at our BOOTHS!"
Everyone looks at Jill. Jill looks at them and puts her hands up, shrugging and shaking her head.
"Oh, I get it!" Barry replies. "Like a county fair!"
"YES." Chris grabs the other man by the arms, giving him a squeeze. "That's EXACTLY what I mean, Barry! JUST like a county fair!" He then moves to Jill, grabbing her arms/squeezing also. He even gives her a little shake, causing her to have to steady her beret as she stares, bewildered, at him. "Booths! Photo booths, kissing booths, darts, freak shows, WHATEVER! We can do this! WE CAN GET MONEY AND THEN GET RESIDENT EVIL FIVE!"
Barry can barely contain his excitement, but everyone else still looks really confused.
Meanwhile, Wesker is listening in on all of this. He turns to his cohorts, filled with furious excitement. "Do that! The thing with the booths! Money! MAKE MONEY! GO!" he commands.
Everyone, good guys and bad, scrambles to action...
ooo
Meanwhile, in the Big Bad Base of Big Badness, Alexia is sitting in her throne and staring at Saddler, who is sitting in his throne. Saddler looks extremely nervous. Alexia blinks calmly, unfolds her legs and refolds them in the other direction, and then blinks again. Saddler swallows hard.
"Is that lipstick?" Alexia asks.
"Maybe," Saddler answers in a high voice. He clears his throat and responds with a second, lower 'maybe'.
Suddenly, the viewscreen comes on, and Salazar's face appears. He is shrieking with hysterical laughter.
Alexia slowly closes her eyes and wonders what her life has become.
Author's note: Heavens to Betsy! It's a race within a race to raise money! Who will raise the five dollars first? Good guys or bad guys? WHO KNOWS? Do I know? No. I'm the author but I don't even know. Holy crap, I'm sorry. Tune in next time, and see what booth each person has built!