Author's Note: Thanks again for reading, everyone! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!
Card Shark .pce
The night was alive on Derse, just as it is every night. Diamonds Droog, the cool-headed assassin of the Midnight Crew's four deadly capos, was seated at a card table in one of his gang's own casinos. Sure, he was entitled to take whatever money he wanted out of the casino's coffers, but he preferred to win his money on his own fortune, like a real man. That way, there was less of a chance of bringing about the Midnight Crew's downfall with his own unchecked greed, and fewer questions from the Boss. Plus, he had a reputation as a card shark that he needed to maintain by letting the regulars see him making bank.
On the table, he had the Jack of Spades and a Nine of Hearts. Nineteen – auspicious. Most would stay, but the dealer had the Queen of Spades showing (that awful bitch). He was feeling lucky and decided to risk it. He tapped his black-carapaced knuckles on the table.
Two of Diamonds. What a break. Diamonds had known his card was up, though.
The other schlubs at the table folded, and the house revealed the King of Clubs. Diamonds gathered up his winnings. That deuce had him thinking, though. The heart of the cards beats to the rhythm of the universe - it was no coincidence that Two came up. Diamonds shoveled the stacks of poker chips into his trench coat, snubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table, and withdrew, tipping his hat respectfully and flipping the dealer a token as a tip.
Across the pit was an old-fashioned telephone station. Sure, there were newer, faster, and more high-tech methods of communication, but these antique things exuded a sense of style that modernity just couldn't match. Diamonds picked up the receiver, spun the dial, and waited for the bartender at the Surly Spittoon to pick up.
No, the bartender informed him, Clubs wasn't there anymore. He was there earlier, but he slipped off with a few of the boys, destination unknown. Great. Clubs was up to something, he was sure of it, and he had a bad feeling about it, too. The filia on the back of Diamonds' rigid neckplate were standing on end.
Diamonds pressed the trigger in the receiver cradle and spun the dial again, ringing the boss's private office. It's just a hunch, he added, after explaining the situation.
Diamonds' hunches have saved his ass more than once, the boss reminded him. With the kingpin's blessing, Diamonds began to round up some of his most trusted goons. They were going to the Surly Spittoon to follow Clubs' trail. He was a master of mischief back in the day; there's no telling what sort of obnoxious ruckus he could cause with the full power of their crime syndicate at his disposal. He just hoped it wouldn't stir the pot too much. The Midnight Crew had a good thing going here, and Diamonds hated to mess with a good thing.
Punch Club ~ATH
[IV]
The night after the impromptu fight in the parking lot, Kato had plans with his brother Ryui. He drove out to their childhood home in suburban Whitecrest, where Ryui and two of their old friends had already broken into a case of cheap beer. Coincidentally, both of their friends were on leave from their military jobs. Ricky Sherriff was a bit of a redneck, perhaps not someone they'd be friends with if not for their shared teenage hijinks. He was just back for the weekend in between basic training and his deployment; he'd decided to enlist after he flunked out of his first year of college.
Frederick Nader, on the other hand, is a hardcore nerd who was nearly done with his third year at one of the country's top military academies (even the name is which is classified), heading for a job as a high-level Air Force engineer. His dream had been to become a mecha engineer, but he had to settle for the next-best thing. He was just in town for his dad's birthday and, after six grueling semesters of dorm-room abstinence, was halfway wasted from his first two beers.
They cheered as Kato entered, red in their faces and sunken in to the assortment of old couches and armchairs that made up the décor in the otherwise unfinished concrete basement. Ryui was playing Shootaman, as always, on the downstairs gaming setup. Kato helped himself to a can of Hamm's from the damp cardboard case and plopped onto the couch next to Ricky.
"Bro, how's the city life?" Ricky asked.
"Pretty cool," Kato replied. He pulled out his phone and started some chill beats on the stereo's aux cable.
"Hitting up the bar scene?"
"Funny you should mention. I was just out last night."
"Oh yeah? Meet anyone hot?"
"Uh, no… Heh. Just hanging with some of the guys."
"They sound hot," Fred chimed in, with his deadpan delivery.
"What'd you guys do?" Ricky continued. He was clearly missing his freedom, lavishing this tiny taste before he got shipped to a bunker in Hawaii for a few years.
"Well, we actually got into a fight in the parking lot," Kato laughed.
"No way!"
"Yeah, heh, I knocked Todd out. He was okay though."
"Todd?" Fred asked. "From high school? Jeez, what'd that guy ever do?"
"He asked me to show him my real power… So he got what he asked for."
"Shut up," Ricky scoffed.
"Yeah, uh, that's kinda messed up, bro," Ryui finally added, his eyes glued to the TV screen.
"No, for real," Kato continued. "We're starting a fight club."
"Fuck yeah, man!" Ricky shouted. He chugged the rest of his beer and slammed the can on his forehead. He jumped up into a fighter's stance, fingers gripping air in anticipation. "Come on, we did one of these in my frat in college! I'm game!"
Kato regarded him with a stony sunglassed gaze, trying to see if he was serious or not.
"Uh, okay, hold on," Ryui said, pausing his game at last. "If we're gonna do this…" He crossed the basement to a set of unruly shelves and pulled out a pair of blue wrestling pads, from the days when Kato and Ryui were both training in the Bujinkan dojo. He plopped them in the center of the open concrete floor.
"There," he said. "Just… be careful."
"Don't worry," Kato said, hopping over the couch into ready position on the pad, "You're in the hands of a trained professional."
"Come on, show me what you got!" Ricky said, advancing. Kato started with a series of easy forward strikes. Ricky blocked them with his forearms, taking the hits like a champ.
"Alright, my turn!" Ricky shouted suddenly, ducking into an uppercut position. "Red Knuckle Rocket!"
With his fist outstretched, he shot toward Kato in a spiraling move that Kato barely managed to duck.
Ricky landed on the far side of the mat an immediately dove in again. "Red Knuckle Rocket!" he shouted again.
"You don't have to announce your stupid move every time!" Kato grunted. He dropped down low, ready to counterattack after having seen Ricky's move. Kato drove his fist up into Ricky's stomach, making him land in a heap next time he hit the mat. Kato jumped on him and started whaling away.
"Ah! Ow! Uncle, Uncle!" Ricky shouted.
"Alright, that's enough!" Ryui called, playing ref as he stepped in, holding his arms out to get between them.
Kato stood up and backed off. Ryui did too. He looked at Ricky lying in a heap on the mat.
"You okay?" Ryui asked him. To Kato, he said "Great, look what you've done."
"Ha ha, holy shit," Fred chuckled.
Ricky suddenly sprung up, charging Kato. "No rules in Fight Club, bitch!" he called.
Kato easily sidestepped and clotheslined Ricky. "Urghhh…" Ricky groaned, clutching his bleeding face. "Alright, that's it for real, man, I'm done for."
"Well, we have a winner," Ryui shrugged. Kato gazed past him at the two other guests who had just arrived, standing at the bottom of the basement stairs with looks of awe on their faces.
~The Present~
tuneHarmonic began pestering arousingAntagonism at 2:11 PM
TH: maybe i don't want a special move after all
TH: i might get too focused on it
TH: you know, like my whole strategy becomes about setting up the right circumstances to use it
TH: like i'm not trying to be some lame move spammer
AA: Ohhhh my god, you're still on this?
AA: What are you even talking about?
AA: Normal people don't have 'special moves.'
AA: That's video game bullshit.
TH: sister i don't think you've been in a real fight, have you?
AA: Uhhh yeah I fight with my sister all the time.
TH: you two throw punches?
AA: No, it's more like pulling hair and scratching, I guess…
TH: so not a real fight
AA: Oh sure, are you gonna tell me it's a 'girl' fight?
AA: So it doesn't count?
TH: i was trying not to use that vocabulary but yes essentially
AA: Well when you factor in the nasty things we say to each other, the emotional damage more than makes up for the lack of physical damage.
TH: i see
AA: In any case, I don't have a special move, Ella doesn't have a special move, and neither should you. It's preposterous.
TH: i feel like i'm gonna regret it if i don't
TH: like there's some big battles coming up that i need to prepare for
AA: You do have a point there…
AA: 'Video game bullshit' has actually become a very viable skillset in these circumstances.
AA: Speaking of which, I appear to be running out of 'Build Grist.'
AA: There was some to start with, and I got some more from deleting all that garbage…
TH: good thing i never took it out
AA: But I've been expending it as I play around with the building controls.
TH: building?
AA: Haha… Look out in the alley.
TH: oh, a stairs
TH: i always wanted to know what's on the roof
AA: And now you can!
AA: Thanks to this marvel of modern programming.
AA: Oh yeah, take this thingy too.
TH: another captchalogue card?
TH: freebies, nice
TH: oh there's a bunch of holes in it though
AA: As far as I can tell, all these Alchemy machines run on punch cards.
AA: Retro, huh?
TH: where are the tubes on this newfangled adding machine
TH: radda radda
AA: So that punch card should create an item if you use all the machines in proper sequence.
AA: I shared the Boggle Docs link with you already, right?
AA: You can read what I've figured out in there, or add to it if you figure out anything new.
TH: leaving me to learn the gameplay loop on my own, huh
AA: The baby bird has to leave the nest at some point!
TH: fair enough
AA: I'm gonna keep messing with the building controls for now… I'm sort of having fun with it lol.
AA: Ugh but I might need to take a break for a bit.
AA: Ella is over and she's being a twat. I can't pay attention with her drunk ass making a commotion every five minutes.
TH: college girls be hittin that bottle
AA: Tell me about it. She's driving me to drink, too.
AA: Oh!
AA: And TT said he was jumping on in a bit.
AA: I mean THEO.
AA: Idk why but he was being so annoying about using our Chumhandles.
AA: Maybe he was just messing with me.
AA: Anyway, if you see him get online, try to connect with him! You're his Server Player in the little daisy chain I have planned out.
TH: will do
AA: BRB
arousingAntagonism ceased pestering tuneHarmonic
Wild Gunslinger ~ATH
[I]
Bright Skaian sunlight began to pour in through the cracks of the cave wall as the scorpion miner forced his whining mechanical drill against it. The rig began to shake out of his grip and buck to the side as it caught on dense pieces of rock, but he tightened his pincers on the handles and pushed on. He was so close to freedom; he had to keep going. If this last push took the life out of the drill, then so be it. He wouldn't need it anymore, and it was only a symbol of his oppression. It would be of no use to him once he got back out into the flat expanse of his desert home.
The drill finally ripped out of his claws, its failing inner workings throwing it off-center. It was heavy enough, however, to crash through the rest of the wall. The rocks above the crack began to collapse, spilling outward and down the side of the cliff. Dust clouded the opening, but it was quickly swept away by the desert winds. Shocked by the brightness of the Skaian sunshine beaming down on the barren wastes, Stinger raised his pincers above his eyes. He let his eyes adjust before scrabbling down the sandy incline, away from the rock mound where the invaders had sent the enslaved scorpions to strip the planet for Grist.
He was unsure where to go. At night, the beacons that drew scorpions together into safe havens (though "safe" was a word seldom would use to describe scorpions, even amongst themselves) would be visible, ringing the horizon like a forest of light. Now, however, Stinger was on his own. He hadn't seen the route of the bulky vehicle that brought him here. He could only guess at which direction the nearest settlement was, and even then it was a coin toss whether or not the scorpions there would even help him. Regardless, there was only one way to go at present, and that was downhill.
He slid his way down the sand, the stones and grit hardly noticed beneath his tough exoskeleton. At the bottom, he began to scuttle away, weaving around boulders, cactuses, and the occasional hunk of rusty metal piping. As he got further from the mountain, his view backwards revealed more of what stood around it, and he spotted a small camp. It wasn't the big one where he came in; it must be guarding some sort of side exit, he reasoned. As he stood watching for a moment on the crest of a dune, a dark shape like a chiseled chunk of onyx began to float into the sky as easily as a gust of sand. It had lights all over and little flames coming out of the back. Stinger had been humbled once before by the invaders' instruments of war, but at the sight of these wonderful new flying machines, he refused to be cowed.
If that's how the invaders got here, Stinger would take one, ride it back to whatever Elder-God-forsaken rock they had come from, and pay them back.
Stinger began to approach the camp now, darting between rocks even at a distance. He didn't want to take the slightest chance of being seen, as that would make his usual tactic of watching and waiting very difficult. He heard a distant humming whine starting to get louder and decided to hunker down and see what it was. He flattened his insectile body into a crack beneath a boulder. Through a crack, he watched.
Two of the invading soldiers, looking all the world like some freaky, giant, smooth scorpions in purple uniforms, rode up on another strange machine – something like a flying bench with a handle on the front. They stopped it, and four metal legs popped out of the machine so it could rest on the ground. The two soldiers began to converse, and Stinger was surprised he could understand them. They had been alerted to the hole Stinger drilled in the mountain to escape. They took turns looking through a pair of binoculars at it.
The soldiers began to look around. One walked towards the mountain, while the other stood by their vehicle (what you or I would call a "hovercycle") and looked around. Stinger shifted, watching the soldier approach the mountain leisurely, his search effort clearly a token one. The other, Stinger realized, had his back to the rock where Stinger was hiding and was beginning to lose attention, gazing off dreamily into the distance.
He made his move: scuttling out a little at a time, keeping low – just basic scorpion instinct. He positioned himself behind the distracted soldier, raised his deadly tail, and struck with lightning speed.
Stinger's stinger clinked off like striking rock. It was like this with other scorpions, but these smooth-shelled invaders seemed like they would have been softer, Stinger thought regretfully. The soldier was startled, jumping a foot in the air, though unharmed overall. The soldier's uniform had torn where Stinger struck it, however, and Stinger noticed something. The soldier had a gun.
These were rare finds among the metallic wrecks of this desert planet. Stinger had never fired one in his life. He snatched for it now, pincers ripping through the soldier's belt and holster. Stinger snatched it, smashing the trigger with his clumsy claws as he did. A burst of light shot out. There was a splatter of blood against Stinger's carapace, and the soldier collapsed, smoke rising from the gunhole.
Stinger's beady eyes flashed with mad power. He spun around and pointed the gun at the soldier out in the dunes. He was far, but he had barely noticed what was happening. Stinger took the opportunity and squeezed off a few more shots, but they all missed. It was clumsy work trying to hold the little L-shaped gun in his claw without pressing the trigger, and it slid about in his clumsy grip.
The other soldier drew his weapon and began looking down the length of his arm. This guy was a professional, Stinger thought, knew how to use his tool – his aim would make each shot a deadly threat. Stinger quickly dove behind the flying bench for cover. Blasts of light blazed off the other side, and Stinger thought he smelled something like a smelting furnace.
It wouldn't be long before the soldier's aim rang true. Stinger had to make a move. He threw his claw up on the seat of the flying bench to stabilize it, pointed down the length of his arm, and squeezed. The laser blast smoked through the other soldier, who wore a look of complete surprise as he collapsed onto the sand and died.
Stinger looked toward the camp. If these guys went down this easily, taking them out would be no problem. He pushed the flying machine over, letting it topple down the side of the dune. He would walk there, the good old fashioned way, and if they sent more soldiers to meet him, then so be it. He would kill them all.
[II]
Stinger stood in the smoldering wreckage of the camp. Before him was a two-story, block-shaped building, its windows shot to pieces and rimmed with black burn marks. Bodies of the smooth soldiers from the purple moon hung out of the window frames and littered the dirt road through the center of the camp. Stinger stood in the center of it all, his body shaking, the laser pistol still clutched in his heavy claw.
He had done it. These vile slavers had paid the price for their actions. Stinger's cold, insectile hemolymph flowed just the same as ever. He went behind the building, where one of the big flying machines was waiting for him. He popped open the door latch and climbed inside to be greeted by a glowing array of screens and buttons. He knew a thing or two about computers – most scrappers did – but this was a complex system unlike anything he had ever seen.
He took a guess and pressed a big green button with an arrow pointing up. The door closed by itself and made a hissing noise. Stinger jumped a bit at this, but this was the fate he wanted, he reminded himself. Numbers flashed across a screen above the button, and the vessel began to hum and rumble, lifting off the ground.
Stinger had no idea where this thing was headed, but he hoped it would be where he wanted. He clutched his pistol close to his side and enjoyed the ride.
Punch Club ~ATH
[V]
"Nice moves dude," one of the newcomers said to Kato. It was Billy Windseeker, their big, fat emo friend who sold them most of their weed – that good shit from the reservation. Behind him was Jimmy Leech, their other emo friend, a lanky, tryhard dickhead from the public school who nevertheless gave off the threatening aura of a high school bully. He guffawed at the scene before him.
Billy walked up to the table and dropped a FAT SACK OF BUDS. Kato followed suit by dropping a FAT WAD OF CASH next to it. They quickly exchanged goods, Kato stashing the buds in his Hashmap Modus (a bizarre programming thing only he could explain) and Billy scattering the dough in his Four Winds Modus. Their business concluded, Kato retrieved his SHARP STONE GRINDER and started churning away. His greens ground, he then retrieved SALLY BONGWALTER and packed her bowl fat. Finally, with a flick of his CHEAPO LIGHTER, he ripped a big hit off the bong and passed it to Ryui. He coughed slightly, but behind his sunglasses, he was holding back tears.
"So you guys practicing your moves, or what?" Billy laughed quietly, taking the bong from Ryui.
"We're startin' a fight club," Ricky coughed, pulling himself up on the couch. "Feels good, man. Real primal to just go in there swingin' and get your ass beat."
"What, you guys think you're Brad Pitt or something?" Jimmy cackled.
"I think I'm more like Edward Norton, actually," Kato said.
"Hell yeah, man, that movie is tits," Ricky agreed.
"Okay, guys, I feel like you're breaking the principal tenet, here," Fred interrupted. "We seem to all be doing a lot of talking about this thing that you're not supposed to talk about."
"Well, let's quit talking and do something about it, then!" Billy laughed. He stepped up to the mat.
"Alright, Kato," Ricky said. "You're the reigning champ! Let's see how long you can last!"
Billy removed his Avenged Sevenfold hoodie and, for good measure, the dirty white shirt beneath. Across his stomach, a scar was carved in cursive letters to create an inkless tattoo: "PUNISHED" it read.
While Kato and Ryui had been friends with Billy long before he became their weed dealer, Kato had never fought with or against him. He had no idea what Billy's combat capabilities were. He tested the waters with a few jabs toward Billy's face. Billy easily parried them with the grace of flowing water redirecting fallen leaves on its current.
"I see you playing me," Billy said. "Don't think our martial arts are dead, dude. I learned this move from some oldhead who lives way out in a trailer."
He wound up lighting quick, muscles tightening like a rattlesnake ready to strike. He threw his weight into a punch, the force of it blowing Kato away even as he dodged. There was no way he was going to sneak in a quick counterattack here – he's never get close enough. He had to find a weak point.
Billy wound up again. "Check it," he said. He was much too slow this time. Kato jumped in before he could throw it, forcing Billy to step back into a defensive position. Kato throw in a few more quick jabs, but Billy continued to block effortlessly.
"Come on, dude, what the heck?" Billy sighed. "I'm trying to do my special move." He wound up again, even slower this time.
"I know," Kato said. "And I don't want you to." He reached over and flicked Billy's glasses up onto his forehead.
"What the heck?!" he shouted, finally getting irritated. "Not cool, man."
"No rules in Punch Club!" Ricky shouted, leaning over the back of the couch.
Billy's hands went to his face, fixing his glasses. Kato spotted the weak point. With a big wind-up, He gave a hearty open-palm slap to the tattoo on Billy's big-ass belly. Billy howled in pain.
"Ohhh! Dude! It kills!" Billy clutched his belly, doubling over with pained laughter. Kato stood ready to strike again.
"Alright, shit, you win, man," Billy wheezed. There were tiny balls of blood forming along the center of some of the cuts. Billy pulled his shirt back on and plopped onto the couch.
"Wow, you emo kids really do have a thing for punishment," Fred said, suggestively.
"Shyeah, right," Jimmy rebutted. "It's not gay like that, man."
"Well don't be a little bitch, dude," Billy taunted. "Get in there!" He nodded toward the mats.
Jimmy hesitated, giving Kato the old elevator eyes.
"Alright, game on, brah," Jimmy nodded.
~The Present~
tuneHarmonic is pestering tortugaTerran at 2:21 PM
TH: so yeah that's kinda what happened the other night
TT: Damn!
TT: It's always some cool shit that I miss!
TT: Fuck… Good times in the basement, man.
TH: yeah for real
TH: that would be fun to look at the basement on this game
TH: but for now it looks like i'm fixed on your house
TT: You are?
TT: Oh weird.
TT: I guess you've never really been over, huh?
TT: It's not like it's party central here with my mom around all the time lol.
TH: yeah not really…
TH: she's a bit…
TT: Insane?
TH: i was going to say overbearing
TH: your words not mine
TT: Whatever. I'm just glad she's gone now, or you'd be witnessing a pretty embarrassing lecture.
TT: God, she can't just be calm or normal about anything! She's always causing so much strife!
TT: Sorry, just ranting I guess. I'm nervous what I'm gonna tell her about my job when she finally gets home.
TT: I might just lie and say they sent me home early. Then I'll just pretend I'm going to work every day but really I'll go to the library or something.
TT: At least until I find a new job.
TH: sounds elaborate
TH: idk man
TH: whatever you think is best. she's your mom.
TT: Yeah…
TH: anyway nice room
TT: You like my posters? This is my whole Nintendo Power collection over here
TT: and then I got these cool ones from the museum…
TT: And these ones are my drawings. Idk they're not that great, but I liked them enough to put them up here.
TH: they look pretty cool to me
TT: Well thanks man…
TT: Anyway, I was reading Mara's guide and she said there's a lot of big equipment to put out, so I made some room downstairs.
TT: I'll show you.
TH: what's with all these greyed-out rooms?
TT: Huh? Well all the bedrooms are up here.
TT: There's Finn and Charlie's bedrooms at the end of the hall, and then my parents' room across from me.
TH: well i see the master bedroom
TH: it's just your brothers' rooms i can't see
TH: like some fog of war type stuff
TT: Well that's weird… I wonder why?
TT: It's not like it's "unexplored"… I've definitely been in there before.
TT: Maybe it's just giving them some privacy.
TH: i guess
TH: ok lemme figure out how to cycle through floors
TT: Meet you down there.
TT: Lol
Lobster Mobster .pce
Nico stands at the edge of a muddy creek. It cuts across the path, forcing him to decide how muddy he wants his shoes to get. It's not every day someone as broke as him gets a nice new pair of shoes like this, but on the other hand, he's already come so far to get this dumb video game working. It's going to be worth it when he does, though, and Elan is going to be sooo jealous.
But what if it isn't? Nico realizes how swept up he's been in this weird little adventure, how swept up he always gets when fun things start happening around him. He hasn't even stopped to consider how weird this all is – stuff that sent Elan running for home. Now Nico's out here all by himself, trudging around in the mud on some fake quest that he's not even sure makes sense.
But all of life is an adventure, isn't it? Far be it for Nico to deny what the universe has in store for him. He thinks of delivering these musings to his Lightersprite, but one look at its featureless, metallic face tells Nico exactly how that conversation will go. He calls upon someone else instead.
pastelPerfect began pestering pastelPerfect at 2:59 PM
PP: i stand at a crossing of paths
PP: what to do lol
PP: oh you gotta play the game for sure
PP: youre basically already playing it
PP: all the monsters and stuff… where do u think they come from if not the game?
PP: its almost like a paradox
PP: you gotta start the game or else how would they have appeared
PP: wow thats crazy i hadnt even thought of that
PP: yeah man and i know it seems like elan and brad arent into this shit but trust me they will see how cool it is
PP: and look at how much cool shit you got already
PP: your cool ghost friend and all those coins and gushers from the monsters
PP: plus all that weed
PP: haha hell yeah
PP: you got it man don't worry
PP: just stay true to the path dogg
PP: and beware... you know... the guy
Nico decides to do just that. He approaches the edge of the creek, looking for rocks to jump across so he doesn't have to squish his way through the mud. He spots some slick black ones, then does a double take as he sees they appear to be rising out of the sandy creekbed.
More details appear as the hard black shapes rise further, revealing big pincer hands and segmented bodies and twitching antennae. They look like lobsters, but Nico thinks they may be a giant relative of those smaller crayfish he saw in the tunnel earlier. As the horde of little crustaceans emerges from the sand, the phrase LOBSTROSITIES appears in the combat window above them.
Nico jumps back as they close in, their pincers furiously grasping. He WIELDS his BRO BEATER and starts giving them little taps, pushing them back toward the water one at a time. One of them snatches the end of his stick, gripping with enough force to slice a splintery notch in the end of it. Nico wriggles it free from the monster's grasp, dodging out of the way just as more of them close in around his feet.
With a quick swipe of his Bro Beater, Nico sweeps a whole column of Lobstrosities out of the way, making a clear path for him to dash across the stream. He no longer cares about the mud and stomps right through. As he heads up the trail on the other side, he feels his left sock getting wet. Looking down, he realizes one of the little bastards managed to get his claws on his shoes after all - a thin slice in the front of the sole gives it away. Nico groans, for all the obvious reasons, but he has to be grateful the thing missed his toes. Who knows how horrific that would have been.
Punch Club ~ATH
[VI]
tortugaTerran is pestering tuneHarmonic at 2:24 PM
TT: So don't mind the creepy mask collection. Or the porcelain dolls.
TT: Just my mom's weird crap that she's haunted me with since childhood.
TH: don't have to ask me twice
TT: So here in the front room you can do the Cruxtruder.
TT: And the Totem Lathe can go here by the dining table.
TT: Then I guess the Alchemiter can go over here in front of the fireplace.
TT: Sorry, I know it's supposed to be your turn at the building controls, but…
TT: I made a mess of it when I was putting out Nico's stuff.
TT: There's like not enough room to change it, either. :/
TT: And then I got into it with his roommate Brad, probably effed up their toilet…
TT: So I wanted to avoid the same mistakes.
TH: yeah let's definitely not open the cruxtruder until we're ready…
TH: that's how i wound up with this loud ass dog
TT: ? What dog?
TH: nvm
TH: good thing there's plenty of room in your house
TT: Yeah…
TT: In a way it's pretty embarrassing to grow up rich.
TH: idk i never mind showing off my flashy stuff
TT: None of it is MY flashy stuff.
TT: God forbid Mom sees something belonging to someone else in this room.
TT: Which, now that I think about it, makes these placement choices kind of counter-intuitive, huh?
TT: Can other people, like, see the game stuff?
TH: oh yeah
TH: aris sure can
TT: Shit.
TT: Well we can figure it out later :T
TH: so much for planning ahead lol
TT: Man…
TT: Hey watch it with that cursor!
TH: sorry
TT: I know I said I hate all my mom's stupid stuff, but that doesn't mean you can break it!
TT: Nice catch on that vase, though.
TH: thanks
TH: couldn't stand to see another disaster after what happened to sally
TT: Aww man, that's right!
TT: I had almost purged the memory from my mind.
TT: Say it ain't so T-T
TH: oh its definitely so
TH: stupid dumbass jimmy
~The Past~
Jimmy stepped up to the wrestling mat, hands in the pockets of his skinny jeans. The many zippers and unnecessary belt buckles jingled gently, looking like some overwrought Square-Enix character. Then he tilted his head, darkening his eyes, and the dorkiness faded, replaced by the look of a Yakuza thug out for blood.
He struck with speed and intensity. After all, he too had been trained by the military – he dropped out of basic after "breaking his pinky toe", but he had retained some of the combat instinct and always made sure to call himself a "former Marine" when he thought it would impress somebody. Kato was still in his element, not having given himself time to cool off between bouts. He dodged, ducked, and deflected Jimmy's strikes, his lanky arms nothing more than irritating branches in the way of Kato's forest hike. Kato steadily worked his way inside Jimmy's long reach and got a few good ones off on his goony gob before backing off.
Jimmy's dark expression deepened. The playground bully he had been when Kato and Ryui met him in elementary school came back with a vengeance. Now it was no longer just a funny game to him. Jimmy began to put extra power into his punches, even threw in a few kicks to keep Kato guessing. Kato's heart raced, but it was the heart of a warrior. He stayed vigilant, studying Jimmy's new attack pattern before moving in again for another well-timed strike. Jimmy staggered backward.
"Alright, fucker," he spat. "Check this out." Jimmy quickly snatched Sally Bongwalter off the nearby card table. Kato could have jumped in and stopped him right there, right when he was distracted, but curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to see where Jimmy was going with this.
Jimmy flicked the lighter and took a huge rip from the bong. He exhaled, releasing a whole ass fog bank, dank enough to shroud the entire basement. Dark shapes moved in the cloud. "Where am I, huh?" Jimmy taunted. "Over here? Or over here?" Kato waited, his fists raised, his eyes darting back and forth behind his shades. Reaching out with his other senses, Kato heard the giveaway jingle of Jimmy's dangling buckles. He was coming in from the front.
Jimmy burst through the cloud, fist cocked back to deliver a punishing blow. Kato knew he was coming and dodged easily to the side, ducking into a forward blow. Blood spurted from Jimmy's nose as he wheeled backward into the cloud. From within the swirling off-white mass, there came a sound of shattering glass and the sound of Jimmy thudding against the concrete.
Suddenly, the cloud swirled away, sucked out through the open half-level window. Fred stood next to it. "Sorry to ruin your trick there, guy, but they're definitely gonna test me when I get back to the Academy, and I can't have this shit in my system."
Jimmy, sprawled on the floor, huffed "Whatever, man, I quit anyway."
"Aw, man, come on!" Ryui groaned suddenly. "Look what you did!" The yellow-stained shards of Sally Bongwalter lay in a puddle of her musty bongwater.
"Kato pushed me," he whined, shifting the blame.
"You dumbass," Billy chided him. "You're the one that brought a bong to a fist fight!"
Kato sighed. Jimmy got up, dusted himself off, and went over to a ratty armchair without another word.
"Tell you what," Billy said, leaning over the side of his papazzan chair. He began to rummage in Jimmy's backpack. "Winner of the fighting tournament gets this trophy!"
He held up the prize, a matte black bong covered in skull patterns.
"Dude, that's mine!" Jimmy yelled.
"Well 'Winners Keepers, Losers Weepers,'" Billy came back, laughing in his wheezy way.
"You're such a D-bag sometimes," Jimmy grumbled, turning the other way in his chair. He crossed his gangly limbs over each other, like a spider folded up in its death rictus.
"So is it mine?" Kato asked.
"You might be on a hot streak," Billy said, "but you haven't beaten every competitor yet…"
Kato eyed Fred, still standing nonchalantly by the window.
"Who, me?" he asked.
Galaxyman 3 ~ATH
The Enigmatic Harrier stalked the halls of a dark laboratory embedded into one of the Veil's many meteors. Its walls dripped with dark mold, swallowing up the glare of the fluorescent white lights, making it seem like the whole place was choking itself to death. Something strange had happened in this laboratory, but the Harrier was not entirely sure what. The crew he had found – all Dersites – had been dead, slain and bloody at their desks or lying in strange places, covered in piles of black mold. Finding a working computer terminal had been fruitless, as well. Most were exploded or smashed by debris, coated in mold, or simply without power.
So far, the Harrier had seen these laboratories filled with standard military technology – tanks, spaceships, cyber armor suits, and other things he had seen in action on the battlefield of Skaia. This lab, however, was devoid of anything he had seen before. This one was deep into some top-secret research. It had to be the source of the Ectognaths. He rounded a corner in the hall, and, just as surely as flies flock to a pile of shit, there was a clutch of Ectognaths waiting for him.
First came the swarm of the papery Moths. The Harrier held down on the trigger of his automatic laser rifle and blew through the first wave. Two larger ones that he called Wasps came at him with their stingers bared. With practiced precision, he blew them apart at the thorax. When it came to the last one, he froze.
Hulking above the other bugs at a height that matched the Harrier's own was a fat, hideous beetle. It would have been just another enemy to the Harrier if not for the tattered lab coat hanging around its thick carapace and the high-tech laser gun clutched in its spindly arms. It looked like one of the prehistoric bugs the Chessmen supposedly evolved from – a picture right out of a Prospitan textbook.
The mutant bug raised its gun and the Harrier was forced to reply. Its slimy, black bug brains splattered all over the wall. After a moment of shock, the Harrier approached to investigate the mutant's gun. He picked it up and turned it over, realizing it was not a gun, but rather some kind of sonic emitter. Was it dangerous, or had the Harrier just shot a disfigured scientist begging for his life? As another cluster of Moths fluttered into range, he decided to find out.
Activating the emitter, the Harrier couldn't hear anything, but it seemed the Ectognaths certainly could. They writhed in agony, trying to turn away and clawing each other's fragile wings to pieces with their scrambling stick legs. Perhaps the scientist was trying to offer the Harrier a gift after all… but it was too late for regrets. A soldier had to keep going.
In the next room, the Harrier's jaw dropped. It was what he had come for. A large monitor showed a young man standing in the forest. It was the boy from the vision in the clouds. The Enigmatic Harrier raced over to the keyboard and began to type a message. He drew his fingers back immediately, trailing strings of sticky black goop. He quickly wiped them off on a clean part of the console and backed away. There was no telling how infectious this stuff was.
The Harrier watched as the young man approached a bush swarming with tiny Ectognaths. The infection had already started in his world. The Harrier had to deliver his message, but this computer was shot – even more black goop burbled out from under the keys, as if the Harrier had broken open a fresh wound by pressing on them. He turned and went back into the facility, praying there was at least one computer still in operation.
Punch Club ~ATH
[VII]
"Two more opponents," Billy announced. "Fred, and your own brother. Think you can take 'em?"
Kato shrugged, though privately he thought he had a pretty good chance.
"Uh, ha ha…" Ryui laughed nervously. "I don't you need to see us fight. We don't need a repeat of last time." He crossed his arms and looked away.
It had been a disaster last time. They had broken a lot of furniture, said some terrible things, got real ugly. But ultimately, Kato had won (at least in his opinion) and he surmised Ryui was still sore about that. Still, everyone had to treat Kato like he was so reckless, hanging his mistakes over his head all the time.
"How about this: I respectfully abstain," Ryui finished. He held his open hands out to show that he had washed them of this whole thing. He sat down and picked up the controller, turning his attention back to Shootaman but fooling no one.
"I guess that leaves me," Fred said, cracking his knuckles as he approached the wrestling mat. "You sure you want to do this? I know top secret government-developed close-quarters combat techniques."
"Oh really?" Kato taunted. "Prove it."
Fred came in hard and fast, throwing punches left and right with barely any wind-up to telegraph them. For the first time, Kato caught a punch on the jaw.
"Stings, doesn't it?" Fred taunted.
"A little," Kato admitted.
They went at it again, trading blows, blocking when they could and dodging when they couldn't. It was an even match, each taking as many hits as the other. They paused, bruised and panting to catch their breath. Their friends watched silently, holding their collective breath as they waited to see what happened next.
"It's getting late," Fred commented offhandedly. "I'd like to hurry and get this over with so we can get back to drinking."
"Agreed."
"All right then," Fred continued. "Here it comes!"
He didn't shout the name of his technique, only got right into it. He hopped up against the back of the couch, holding himself up on the back edge like Spider-Man, then shot out at lightning speed. Kato wouldn't have had time to dodge, but he was right where he wanted to be anyway – right in the path of the oncoming attack.
Kato ducked just inside Fred's outstretched arm, grabbed him around the bicep, and delivered an uppercut with his free hand. Fred began to spiral in midair from the force, but Kato dragged him down by the arm he was holding and slammed him onto the mat. Fred's glasses bounced, spun, and landed crookedly back on his face.
"Well, that's it for me," he said, slightly winded.
"Damn, man how'd you do that?" Ricky asked, aghast. "That was just like my move but, like, lightning fast!"
"I dunno," Fred sad. "Training."
"I thought you were gonna be an engineer," Kato said.
"Still had to go through training. You know, like, what if our design firm gets invaded by Russian spies or whatever? Have to be able to defend our top-secret Death Star plans. Anyway, I could keep going, but having my ass kicked is not part of what I consider a fun evening."
"Good enough for me," Kato shrugged.
"Then it looks like we have a winner!" Billy declared. He stood up, holding the black bong tenderly aloft. Ricky began to hum a little victory fanfare. Jimmy continued to look sullen as his bong was presented to Kato. Apparently getting his ass kicked was not his idea of a good time, either. Kato cradled the makeshift trophy in his arm and waved to his adoring crowd like a pageant winner. Ryui rolled his eyes and went back to his game.
"I just want to thank my ringside team," Kato said, "and Sensei Akai from the dojo for training me." Ricky and Billy cupped their hands around their mouths and made fake crowd-roaring noises. "If anyone wants to contend my championship, I'll be holding my Fight Club at the abandoned Corn Belt brewery tomorrow night."
~The Present~
acidReaction began pestering tuneHarmonic at 2:27 PM
AR: hello are you even still alive
TH: hi yeah i am
TH: oh shit man, i hadn't seen your other texts until now…
TH: sorry there was a ton of stuff going on
AR: yeah sounds that way
AR: i heard on the news theres some crazy stuff hapening down town
AR: do u need help
TH: uh well i think i got it covered for now
TH: but you should come anyway
TH: bootsy is here
AR: huh
AR: you mean his ashes
AR: i know that
TH: just get here
AR: ok i had to leave moms house cuz there were guys there
TH: guys?
AR: yeah little guys
AR: i shot them out the window
TH: ok good there's guys here too that need shooting
AR: ok i am half way there but i am going to stop for supplies
TH: be ready to rumble yo
Snipe Hunt ~ATH
[I]
Stinger spent most of his voyage into the night sky fiddling with his gun in the driver's seat of the great onyx vessel. He was trying to get his grip just right, to where he could hold it in his big clunky claw without squeezing the trigger. It was like a deadly game of Penguin Roulette – if he accidentally blasted a hole through the hull, there would go his oxygen. Luckily, he only blasted a few old cola cans and one of the control board screens.
As he got bored of this, he lay back in the seat, waiting for the vessel to reach its preprogrammed destination. He watched a bright blue star get closer and closer at a rapid pace before he realized that it must be another planet like his, another world full of life and – was that water? Stinger had never seen an oasis that big.
The vessel began to drift down to the surface, through whirlwinds of long, teal clouds. Even lower, and he saw tree-spotted patches of land amongst the great mass of water. Suddenly, the ship rocked with violent force. Red-lighted alarms began to flash and blare on the control panel. Stinger saw the ship's steering wheel, untouched and unidentified until now, begin to jiggle around. He clutched it in an attempt to keep it still. More impacts of some kind shook the ship again, and Stinger began to see smoke pouring out of the side. Is it possible that someone had a gun big enough to shoot this fast-moving craft? The ship took a stomach-churning dive and crashed into a patch of palm trees. Stinger crashed through the windshield and bounced across the treetops.
He awoke sometime later, the bright light of Skaia beaming into his beady, lidless eyes. His lightweight, armored body had landed safely in a patch of soft sand. The same teal clouds swirled overhead in long ribbons, and the tall grass along the beach sighed in the breeze.
Stinger's stomach growled. He had been through a lot today, and it had been a long time since he had a good meal. He could always lie in wait for something to come by, but he had no idea how edible the animals on this planet were. Still, he had no other choices. He would just have to try.
He looked around and spotted his gun nearby. It gave him an idea. He hunkered down in a divot on the beach, using his tail and legs to bury himself in the sand a bit. He laid, waiting, his gun pointed out of the hole.
Soon, a creature approached. Stinger recognized this Underling from back home, a long-legged, crescent-beaked bird known as a Snipe. These rude assholes were always hanging around the oases, pecking off their competition. This one was a different color – brown instead of grey, but Stinger liked the odds that it would be tasty. He fired his gun.
The shot missed, flying over the Snipe's head and singeing off the tops of some grass. The bird took wing and shot off into the sky.
Stinger heard a strange wheezing noise and looked off to the left. There, another creature was watching. It hovered off the ground, its wispy, snakelike body topped with a hound dog's head. It grimaced strangely, baring its teeth, and made that wheezing sound again. Was it laughing at him? That bastard! Stinger clapped indiscriminately on the trigger, sending a flurry of bullets sailing at the ghost dog. Most missed, but a few simply passed through its incorporeal body as if through smoke, leaving holes that quickly swirled back together.
The dog laughed again, this time going to far as to point at Stinger with its mangy paw, before dashing off into the tall grass. There was no sound as he went it, but a rustling arose and soon another Snipe came crashing out of the grass. Stinger didn't miss his opportunity this time. He blew the bird's head clean off and it exploded into an array of delicious Gushers.
Stinger dashed over and began to gnaw on a large purple one. As his mandibles went to work, the ghost dog swooped by and scooped up all the smaller pieces. Stinger clutched his prize greedily, hissing and baring his poison tail. The ghost dog was unfazed, but it left him alone anyway. Stinger found even the large Gusher was lacking in weight. His stomach rumbled for another.
[II]
Stinger and the dog had been up and down the entire beach by the time sunset came. He found the dog had been amenable to keeping up this kind of cooperation. Stinger got his fill, but the dog had apparently not, so they continued on in this fashion. Stinger was grateful for the target practice.
As they approached the edge of the jungle, Stinger spotted a plume of smoke above the trees. Perhaps this was where the vessel had crashed, and perhaps it could still be used. Stinger began to skitter through the trees, leaving the uninterested dog behind him. Pushing through, he found a clearing created by the impact of the sky vessel. It looked pretty trashed, but Stinger never could resist a good salvage.
As he was about to step into the clearing, a glint caught his eye. He gazed upward, where a small white disc was descending from the cool blue of the evening sky. Stinger had no idea what it could be, but it reminded him of the Smoothies and their hateful war machines. He shuddered. As the white disc began to approach the ship, Stinger pointed his gun out and shot. The disc exploded, raining down in little metal chunks. Two more approached and Stinger gave them the same treatment.
Another cluster began to approach from afar. Stinger ducked back into the foliage and out to the beach. From here, he could see the direction he discs had come from: another island nearby, with a few blocky building sticking out above the treetops. Perfect. There was the Smoothie base. Stinger couldn't tell whether or not this was the planet the Smoothies called home, but he would start his campaign of revenge here nonetheless.