Bah! The Three Stooges of the Apocalypse:

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The Duelist
 
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Bah! The Three Stooges of the Apocalypse:

Unread postby The Duelist » Mon Mar 22, 2004 5:36 pm

nothing to do with Gaera, just a fic I did in a different world/game from a while ago. Don't expect people to know the jokes, but I'm curious to see how I did in the end. What do you all think?

Ch.1: The Spiked Titanium Fist.


It is the Khazan Swamp, Where things much bigger than crocodiles hide in the murky depths. In this particular patch of swampland, you can make out the burnt hulks of a half a dozen strange vehicles. small sparks flare up around them every once in a while. At the center of this massive mess is a small crater. Looking down into it, a moderately tall and thin seventeen year old and a somewhat overweight sixteen year old pay their respects to a fallen comrade . They stand for a moment, in sad silence.

The tall, thin boy finally spoke.

"A fool so willing to die for money. Now, I'm not a saint here, but I'm finding it rather pathetic that Will killed himself over a five-dollar bill.”

The speaker is a teenager of about 17 years of age. He is the as said, tall, thin kid that is often referred to as, Wiseass Dave. Let us observe more closely.

As can be seen here, he, and his three (or two) semi-compatriots are well known as the "Three Stooges of the Apocalypse." The theologically impossible divine entities who are supposed to follow the Four Horsemen of The Apocalypse, and make the survivors feel just a little bit better about their impending demise. It is a difficult profession, but somebody has to do it. Willing, or otherwise.

Unfortunately they were late. The apocalypse had struck Khazan two years before. But that is a different story. Now, back to the moment at hand, in which Dan/The Devouring One has responded:

"He was Will, The Joke Assassin. Let he possibly, finally, actually rest in peace. Please."

The small, red-headed kid with the incredibly high pitched, sing-song, nasal voice called from the early grave which he lay in.

"You. Know. I'M. NOT. QUIITE. DEAAAD. YETTT."

Dan sighed, "I know. this sucks."

---------

It’s a well known fact on Khazan: Bad things happen to Good People, and then Good People beat the ever-loving shit out of Bad Things. Any arguments? No? Goooooood. The First Corollary is: Bad People happen to Good Things if and only if Dollarcorp or a mystical entity that seemed to have a connection to Matilda Branson, and the infamous “Psycho” Kay Pratchett is involved. Finally, we come to the second corollary: the Three Stooges of the Apocalypse are what happen to Bad Things, usually by accident. Much like when you're an evil, villainous mastermind, and a fork gets stuck deep in the garbage disposal while you're doing dishes. (Don't ask me why the hell you're doing your own dishes, you're the evil mastermind, YOU figure it out.) You realize that you can't get the damn thing out, so you stick your hand in to remove it...and then you need to go to a special shop and buy a special, spiked, mechanical titanium hand, because the fleshy one is now an amputated, bloody mess. Of course you'll blame your arch nemesis for it, but you'll still know deep down that it was your own Goddamn fault for being stupid enough to stick your hand into the cosmic equivalent of the malfunctioning garbage disposal...but it still feels a lot better to blame somebody else. So now I dare you to scratch your ass with that hand. I dare you.

So a word to the wise gentlemen, do NOT do what this guy's about to do.

-------

"Okay Dan, so we're in agreement here. We're going to go to this Arcade/Beachside Bar and Grill/hang/WhateverthehellsortofestablishmentthatcouldonlyexistonkhazanbecauseIsaidso...all three of us...and we expect to have fun and no hassle?"

Dan replied, "Yeah, I know. Next you’re going to ask me what I'm smoking and where I got it. I think we both know that it’s just the wiring."

Dave gave a wide grin, "Eeeyup, Fucked up by natural causes."

Will noted, "You Wan-na Bet?"

Dan ignored him, “Look, lets just try and do this, okay?”

Dave sighed, "Bah, I know how this'll turn out...but I'll play along. Besides, they have a Soul Calibur machine, along with a Confidential Mission gun game...so try to buy me a little time before the shit hits the fan."

"No Prawwwwblem."

The trio immediately split up. Dave started with two rounds of Soul Calibur, as Siegfried, the Knight with the big honking broadsword. All jokes aside, he was the only character David had really mastered from the original game. At one end of the room, he spotted Dan, who was floating amongst the other beachgoers with ease as he stepped from machine to machine. Dave finished his ritualistic beat-down on a half a dozen other Soul Calibur players, and moved on. All too easy.

He could see Will at the grill. Bastard was doing what he did best, making a nuisance of himself…but Will was Will. He turned away. Looking out a nearby window before he stepped into the Confidential Mission booth, he whispered to himself.

“Okay asshole. I know you’re out there. And I know that you’ll be here pretty damn soon. They don’t know it yet, but it’ll become obvious soon enough…make no mistake, if you even think of doing what I know you’ll do, I swear I’ll accidentally shoot myself!”

It was true too. He hadn’t done his twin-gun thing in a while…

------

Okay, the really goddamn stupid fellow isn't here yet, so let us survey the surroundings for a moment. This is widely considered to be one of the most scatterbrained establishments on the planet. It’s based by a beach, and is about four stories in total, two basement, ground floor, second floor. ground floor had some arcade machines, but is mostly a mini-grill. but the first basement floor is almost entirely devoted to the art of gaming. Needless to say, Dave is obviously impressed by the selection. the top floor was a surf shop, bottommost floor was a storage room. They're not important.

The girl that walked in five minutes later however, was.

------

Dan walked through the arcade. All a bunch of games he’d seen before at one point or another, fun to play, but he couldn’t quite revel in them the way Dave could. He surveyed the scene. For some reason, he just wasn’t enjoying things these days. I mean, what was the point? The apocalypse had come and gone. There wasn’t much point in hanging around here anymore. At first, it had seemed like one giant thrill ride. The Three Stooges of the Apocalypse, forced to contend with The Two Balls To Rule Them All. The Three Stooges of the Apocalypse, Fermenting the Fearless FUBAR Fighting Forces, To Brew The Cosmic Brew of Wackiness that Even Magnus Jiggler Had Trouble Stomaching. To Boldly Go Where Everyone Has Gone Before, and F—ck Everything Up Once They Got There.

But now…FUBAR Had happened, and there was no stopping it. It was here, and here to stay, and everybody else could go f—ck off for all they cared. You want Continuity? We’ve got your Continuity RIGHT HERE Muthaf—cka! Now shut yo mouth! After sticking that to the man so blatantly, there wasn’t much else worth doing.

The voice of one of Dan/The Devouring One’s many personas arose from amidst the clatter. It was Senor Badass, the renowned Mexican protector of the people, and ladies man.

“You need a woman, man.”

In Dan’s mind, he responded, “And the chances of that on THIS planet at THIS point in time? We’re FUBAR, when they figure that out its all over except for the slapping.”

Senor Badass guffawed, “Senor Willie does not seem to have this problem.”

Dan rolled his eyes, “Look, he’s a special case. Now, besides him, we’re all technically considered off limits by most of the opposite sex. And May Lee does NOT count, and you will not mention her you sick bastard. Now, I can’t see anyone in here weird enough to accept the fact that we’re part of a group of screw-ups and weirdos without wanting to shoot us afterward.”

Then, she walked in.

------


Now, let's talk about this chick for a minute. Now, this isn't the hottest girl you've ever seen, but she ain't bad. A redhead, nice face, small jugs. Looking nice in a tank-top and a pair of white sweatpants. Not traditional beachwear, but there's an obvious reason for this. And you guessed it already you smarty-pants bastard. Well, play along and at least PRETEND you're surprised.

Needless to say, Dave would have agreed that she was worth going for, nay, fighting for (HINT, HINT). Yeah, I know Dave pretty well...and that sonovabitch can be pretty damn prophetic. Play him in Risk, or Starcraft, or Warcraft. He's fast, not as efficient with his hotkeys as a master, but he still knows what you're thinking...I'm sorry, I'm still pissed at losing thirty bucks when I bet against him in a team game. Back to the story at hand.

So, this babe walks in, and the legend continues.

------

Dan watched as she stepped into the arcade/grill. Of the Stooges, he was the one with the most dating experience. Of the Stooges, only he had managed to have worthwhile relationships.

Of the stooges, only he had some ability to read the emotions and signs that women give off. Will gave people the feeling that their survival depended on running away, very quickly...And Dave had a knack for finding the one person in the crowd who he couldn't connect with, but would end up hating within three days.

She was about Dan's age...and she seemed lost. Who was she? All of Dan's conflicting personalities immediately stepped aside. This was one of the few areas where Dan Was The Man, and Senor Badass Too! everyone else was spoken of in complete lowercase.

A warning bell went off in his mind by the name of Senor Badass.

“There is something irregular about all of this my friend. She is alone, nervous, and wearing clothes that do decidedly not fit the décor. Tread carefully mano.”

Now Dan was definitely going to talk to her. It was the very nature of man to stick his nose in where it didn't belong, after all. He made his way over toward her, and fate decided to have some fun. an errant foot slipped between her legs...

--------

Eyyeah, you can guess what happens now. Girl slips, falls onto Dan. Now, here comes the stupid guy. Hear his roar."

------

Dan's girth broke the fall, and the girl collapsed into him.

Senor Badass grinned in Dan’s mind, “She’s fallen for you already.”

"Heyy, watch it." He said. "I'm only Dan, Lord Hefty's a lot better at taking hits than I am."

She scrambled to get off him, "I'm sorry, I need to run and..."

An ominous click silenced everyone in the arcade, and the room went cold. The Khazani instinct to immediately find a place to duck and cover went into effect, and everyone quickly found safe positions quickly, efficiently, and without a serious panic. This was Khazan, every sort of crime that had ever existed had been perpetrated at least once here, and this specific crime at least nine-hundred times in a five minute period. That's what you get when you have a planet the size of Jupiter with the gravity of Earth, really...and everyone knew the difference between a shooting game reload, and THIS.

For one thing, it was real.

“So, you must fight for her now?” said Senor Badass within Dan’s mind, “I shall find The Devouring One, this foe is not worth my time or effort.”

Dan muttered, “My ass he isn’t.”

This opponent was an imposing man to be certain. His face might have once had color to it, but now he was a pure albino. At one point, he might have even been human. Now though, there were too many mechanical pieces to tell. He wore a heavy black trench coat, easily clashing against the background of beachgoers and arcade junkies. In comparison to Wiseass Dave, Dan/The Devouring One was an amateur at spotting danger...but he knew full well that the various marks on the robot's body probably weren't scratches. He could almost smell the highly illegal concealed weaponry...weaponry that made the pistol in the cyborg's hands look like a child’s toy

The cyborg spoke, "While it is true that you NEED to run, it’s also true that you need to run faster than this gun. Howsit sound?"

Dan cleared his throat as he inwardly acknowledged the arrival of his other dominant persona. Now the only question was which speech to use.

The only noises that continued were the sounds of the arcade machines, most loudly of all were the noises of a Confidential Mission game, as a seemingly oblivious player unloaded thousands of rounds against international terrorists. Not very difficult, as this Confidential Mission game booth came with a black curtain to keep the mood constant while you were playing inside. Dan carefully considered what words to use, when it all suddenly left him. For as everyone shuffled away from the cyborg around the arcade machine, an event occurred which shocked them all to the core. Some of the beachgoers' hair immediately turned white.

For you see, during this tense period, a high pitched, annoying, sing-song voice decided to complain to the terrified grill staff AT THAT EXACT MOMENT as they hid behind their counter, "I DIDn'T ORrrDER GRILLED CHEESE! I. orrrdered the chiiicken ten-ders. Iiii’m talking toooo youuu, Dipshit!"

Everyone who hadn't slipped out the door, including the cyborg, turned to look at Will. One or two of them mouthed Will's words to themselves. Deep in their blood, they knew something was terribly wrong. This wasn't quite right...Heroes rose all the time on Khazan...but these weren't fighting words or even words spoken with a heroic voice. These weren't the words of a man who would fight mountain crushing aliens to the death, or the voice of a man who would challenge the world's most powerful man to a collectable card game. These were words of a man who...would...kick kittens, and other small, somewhat cute creatures, simply because they had got in the way of his Segway...or he might shoot them with an oversized combat arm-cannon.

But that didn't matter, because Will was Will, and no one expected anything less.

Will looked at the confused mass of people and said, "Whaaaat? Fuck you. Aaaaand the iron dick."

The girl muttered to the world in general, "What. The. Fuck."

Dan muttered back, "Typical Will...ruins the moment, acts like a jackass, and likely gets himself...wait for it..."

(BLAM!)

"...shot."

"Oh my god...he's..."

"Nah, he's getting back up."

"But that went through his eye! his EYE! He should be DEAD!"

(BLAM!)

"Not really. I'm kinda used to it at this point."

(BLAM!)

Will pushed himself to his feet, staggering about as he tried to make sense of everything, "I'M BLIND! BLIIIIIIIIND..."

This was a very good thing, because it prevented Will from seeing the enormous arm cannon that the cyborg’s left arm turned into.

(whrrrrRRRR......BOOOOOOOOM!)

All that remained of the Grill area were tiny craters. The Cyborg shook his head, disgusted with the performance. The crowd, hypnotized by the display of masochism and sheer stupidity in the face of danger, continued to stare. Not the girl, not even Dan could keep himself from looking at the crater. In the small booth that Confidential Mission players sat in, Wiseass Dave didn't even look to see what was happening. He seemed almost world-weary, having long since learned how to deal with Will the Joke Assassin's powers.

He said, "What a senseless waste of time and effort."

Dan finally moved, "Listen, what's your name?"

The girl said, "Emily."
His eyes did not move from the crater.

"You see that cheesy black booth over there that says 'confidential mission' on the side? I need you to go in there."

"What?"

"A friend of mine is in there. It’s safe. Do it now."

Emily looked at him again, "You wouldn't happen to be part of some crack team of superheroes, would you?"

Dan shrugged, "More like 'crackpot', but it'll do. Just Go."

Dan stepped in front of her as the Cyborg finally turned around.

------
Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fork has entered the Garbage Disposal. Now, for the sake of your enjoyment, I should probably tell you now, just so you know the team dynamic. Will The Joke Assassin is the Life-partner of all assholes. Dan/The Devouring One is the rough, tough, barroom brawler. And Wiseass Dave is...well...the Wiseass. And of course, this is the part where it all hits the fan.

So pass the mustard, 'cause we're about to have ourselves a reeeal good old fashioned Arcade Barbecue!
-------

Dan looked at the Cyborg, "Got a name, Metal Dick?"

The Cyborg yielded no emotion, "Just call me Carlson."

Dan's grin didn't change, "Right then."

Inwardly, he said, “Yo, TDO, You’re on in three!”

The grin changed into a smirk which showed plenty of tooth. This wouldn’t have been much of a problem to just about anyone, until the said teeth grew longer and sharper. Dan seemed to grow, gaining almost three feet in three seconds…his eyes were no longer the lazy ones of a confident punk. These were the eyes of a primal killer. Dan’s second-most dominant persona spoke:

"YOU...WILL...SUFFER..."

A primal war cry rocked the room as both fighters locked each others arms over their heads. Small beads of sweat formed on the Cyborg's face, and the ground shook under the pressure of their strength.

The Devouring One though, couldn't have cared less. He bared his fangs at the sight of fear in Carlson's eyes. In a battle of strength, none were greater than The Devouring One, and after another moment of letting Carlson think he stood a chance, it would be time to really turn it on.

But Carlson knew that somehow, because he allowed himself to tumble backwards, forcing the Devouring One to fall forwards...placing Dan/The Devouring One's face into the muzzle of Carlson’s arm cannon.

Dan's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, as he saw the fully charged cannon aimed right in his face...and...

He was gone, along with a portion of the arcade machines around him, along with every floor above the first.

------

For the record, Carlson did something that sealed his fate for all eternity. He destroyed the Soul Calibur II machine.

If it had been only Dan and Will, Carlson might have been forgiven...but Wiseass Dave takes his games very seriously...

------

“hmmmm…” Dave was unimpressed. His Eye twitched…all those games, lost.

Emily gave out a small shriek.

"OHMYGOD! He's dead! He only wanted to help me...”

Dave quickly slapped his hand over her mouth. Kind of pointless, bastard probably saw her get in at the start, but appearances needed to be kept up. He looked her dead in the eye.

What he was thinking was, "Right. I'd say he only wanted to screw you, but he occasionally has more depth than that."

What he was found himself saying was, "Do you really think he's dead?"

Emily gasped out, "How could he NOT be dead!?! He must have been vaporized!"

A half a dozen terrorists dropped before her, victims of Dave's Twin-Gun Mastery. He frowned…it was the only shooting game he was good at, so how could he nearly miss like that?

Dave shook his head, "One question for you. Can you kill Chaos?"

Emily responded, "What the hell sort of question is that?!?"

Dave sighed. This was Will's game. Dan's occasionally. Letting the opponent win for no real reason except to make things interesting. As pretty as the girl was, Dave would have said, "Oh just kill the bastard and get it over with."

But Dave wasn't Dan...and it was obviously part of Dan's script that he step in now.

He looked down at the pair of plastic light guns in his hands....ooooh yeah....

------

Carlson grinned as is Arm cannon reverted to his normal, everyday arm. This was actually fun. a diehard prick and a were-thingy...he had had his ears enhanced with the latest in illegal electronics, and he knew that his target was in the black booth...but what did the boy mean when he said:

"Can you kill Chaos?"

It didn't matter...

------

Oh but it DID matter. You see, that’s the problem. You go one or two rounds and you think its all over, you've beaten the crap out of the guy...he can't possibly have anything else up his sleeve. Oh, is that a fork in the garbage disposal? I better reach down and grab it...

You see, you know somebody's an experienced fighter if they can draw that fine line between confidence and stupidity, between daring and outright ludicrous. An amateur can't do that. He hasn't been around long enough to know the difference between being weak and holding back.

Needless to say, Carlson was a babe in the woods. If he was going to fight the Three Stooges of the Apocalypse, he should have remembered to bring his brain along, and drop the ego. That's all I'm gonna say.

------

Carlson moved toward the Confidential Mission booth. He had a pretty good idea of what would happen next, the kid beside Emily would attempt some sort of noble sacrifice to keep her safe, and Carlson would blast him out of existence the minute he tried...

And then the music started playing. The guitar riffs sounded as "70's spy flick" with combined brass and wind ensemble. This classic music came from out of nowhere with no visible source.

And Wiseass Dave made his move.

------

------

What is a video game?

A video game is a pattern, a collection of similar particles placed together to create a greater whole, the illusion of life and realism for the player. These individual particles have no life. The characters onscreen have no life. They are nonexistent ghosts in a machine. They have no form or substance, and their only purpose is to entertain. The voices you hear were done by professional (or useless wannabe) voice actors.

That’s what people would like you to believe.

Wiseass Dave however, would tell you differently. You see, a well thought out game could be conceived as a masterwork item. Up to two hundred or more individuals could team up to create JUST ONE GAME. And as with everything they do, these people put blood, sweat…-and SOUL into their work. Whether they liked it, or not.

The destroyed works of dozens of writers, technicians, artists and miscellaneous surrounded the fighters. And from this and the undestroyed works, Dave drew his power.

Otherwise said, he was about to go renaissance all over the enemy. Not medieval, most definitely renaissance. There’s an important difference.

------


Dave’s beachwear was no more, in its place was a snazzy tuxedo, complete with bow tie. His hair was slicked back, and a light-gun was in either of his hands, with cords still attached to their machine. Performing a sideways shooting-dive popularized by The Matrix, he unleashed a flurry of bullets at the cyborg.

Carlson was decidedly displeased, and showed it with the discharge of his enormous beam weapon. The Wiseass paid no heed, performing a forward diving roll underneath the blast, flipping sideways as he reloaded, he sprung forward bringing his guns up into Carlson’s face…

…Just as Carlson brought his beam weapon up for another shot. Neither fighter seemed to notice the dozens of pigeons that suddenly flew away from their deadlocked battle, however, Dave did notice it. He took pride in the little things.

Carlson smirked, “Stalemate.”

Dave replied, “Not really.”

“So the fact that we both have a weapon of mass destruction at the other’s head has escaped you?”

Wiseass Dave snorted, “Fool. I am Dave, the Matchless Wiseass. First amongst all the Stooges…” He paused for a moment, twisting his left wrist to look at his watch “and now…The Punchline.”

The sound of building materials shifting followed his words, and a figure emerged from the rubble. He was short, red haired, and had the look and aura of an asshole about him. He was Will, The Joke Assassin, in a suit.

“Smiiile! YOU’RRRRE ON CAAANDID CAAAMRAAA!”

A rear monitor on Carlson’s armor recorded this, as another arrival made his presence known. The whistle of onrushing air caused by an unaerodynamic object falling to the ground at speeds clocked at over four hundred miles per hour filled the air as a good sized object broke through a small chunk of the ceiling that remained, some distance away from Dave and Carlson.

It was Dan, and he was charred black in true cartoon fashion. He up held a video camera, and a grin.

“Beautiful man, the people at home’ll eat this one up!”

Carlson frowned, “What?”

Will laughed, “Heee stillll doeeesn’t get it! His bawwwss said he wouldn’t!”

“Lord Raven said WHAT?!”

Dan shrugged, “I personally put money on you figuring out that you were loaded out with blanks.”

Will tossed a couple of red canisters from his pockets and pointed to his previous beachwear garb. It was covered with sophisticated special effects electronics and plastic stage blood-packs which had been emptied onto the clothes.

Carlson’s gaze did not leave Dave’s face, “Oh yeah, what about the big hole in the ceiling, and the craters?”

Dave lowered his guns slightly, dropping the right-hand gun to pull something out of his pocket. It was a switching device with a green light next to each switch, yet some of the lights weren’t active. He flicked a switch by an inactive light. The ceiling above them suddenly returned, looking good as new.

He said, “Incredibly expensive holographic projection machine.”

Carlson lowered his beam cannon, looked to the ceiling, looked to the Stage-beachware, and then looked at Dan.

“Really?”

Dave interrupted, “No. Not really.”

(BLAM!)

“But you aren’t the first one to fuck that one up.”

------

Reality is overrated, and just because something didn’t happen, doesn’t mean that it hasn’t happened. You see, so long as its funny, it makes sense. You need to ask yourself, just what sort of power would a trio of losers need to make people laugh during the apocalypse? The fact that they ride into town on a rickety collection of golf carts just can’t cut it against that kind of atmosphere. What you gotta do is find a way to change the atmosphere to make your audience more likely to forget their worries…at least for a while. Or in this case, until the world ends and the souls of the living and the dead are judged one final time.

Is it fair that these three got pushed into this profession? Forced to try and be a silver lining in an otherwise pitch black world? No. Not a damn chance of that. Is it fair that a trio of punk kids were given the knowledge of when time would forever end, and none of the power needed to do anything about it.

No.

But they lucked out, and the apocalypse fizzled as it hit the nexus of all that Is and Will Be, and a cosmic loophole created the ethereal garbage disposal that men seek to carefully place their hands in without getting killed. Although they never say anything of it, and avoid the subject if you ask, its obvious.

They feel lucky to be amongst the few who are alive…and ashamed that they had not been there to do what they had thought to do the minute they learned of their jobs: Attempt to stop the four horsemen. They wouldn’t have stood a chance, but maybe, just maybe a monkey wrench could be thrown into the final chapter if they tried hard enough.

As Wiseass Dave would say, “A Pipe dream, but it made us feel a little better when we thought it out.”

Alone, each of them are strong in their own unique fashion. Together, the sheer willpower, and divine might of the Three…well…Wonderbread Powers activate, ladies and gentlemen.

------

Carlson stood there for a moment, “……oh…”

He collapsed slowly, like a skyscraper that had been built with a foundation made of fairy-dust. His titanic form finally came to the ground with a loud clanking noise.

Will and Dan walked over to the downed cyborg, and Dave silently viewed his handiwork.

Slowly, a female figure exited the Confidential Mission booth, walking toward her rescuers. She ran a hand through her hair. She could almost feel the strange electricity crackling through the air. Somehow…things were different, perspective was distorted. Everything seemed to have changed, while nothing had changed at all, and the holes in reality were hiding in plain sight.

First and most important of all, she was wearing a dress. It was white, and embroidered. She looked almost like a f—cking princess. Little did she know that this was also part of Dave’s handiwork. After all, if Dan was going to pull them into a mess like this one involving the eldest of archetypes, the girl damn well better look the part. She and Dan would have disagreed, but they didn’t really count in his mind at the moment. Altering reality can make you feel that way sometimes.

Silently, the Three Stooges of the Apocalypse assessed their performance.

Finally, Dave remarked, “That takedown needed oregano.”

Dan shook his head, “Something exotic might have helped…but really it was just too sweet. Needed less sugar and a LOT more pepper.

Will questioned this in a milder version of his blatantly sing-song, ear shattering voice, “But thennnn it woolldent have been that funny!”

Dave waved it off, “Whatever, it’s over, we won…and…”

They finally noticed the applause coming from the onlookers. The remaining contingent of beachgoers had stayed in the area, content to watch the carnage from a distance. Some people on Khazan viewed Hero/Villain street fights as a spectator sport, and these were no exception.

“…we’re being applauded.”

As one they all said, “Sweeeet.”

“Princess” Emily stood near them, not knowing quite what to say.

Dave adjusted his bow tie, “Now, why’s ‘Lord Raven’ hunting after you, and where did you come from?”

Emily blurted out, “How the hell did you stage that! Those swim trunks didn’t have Fake Blood containers in them before! And how’d all that get up to his EYES!?! HOW ARE YOU TWO STILL ALIVE?!? And…why the F—CK AM I WEARING THIS DRESS!?!”

Dan winced at the volume and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly, “Calm. Down.”

Silence

She looked at the Stooges and their equipment.

One Word: “How?”

One Answer: “This is Khazan.”

The Response: “…Oh.”

------

Khazan Continuity in a nutshell.

------

Dave rolled his eyes, “Whatever, lets go.”

Emily tried not to think about what just happened, “Ummm…okay.”

Dave snapped, and music started playing again. Ezekiel 25:17 of the Pulp Fiction soundtrack came to life on the various speakers as the trio silently left the area, walking into the sunset…which they realized would lead them into the ocean. They quickly about faced, and walked with the sunset in the background. Silently, Emily wondered where the blood-red sun had come from, but decided not to ask.
<p>------
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I do not go medieval on peoples asses. I go Renaissance. There's an important difference. Medieval is just beating someone with a mace, but Renaissance is artful, sophisticated. Smooth, yet firm, powerful, yet distinct. Everyone knows when someone's gone Medieval on their ass, but they don't know Renaissance until its too late. -Wiseass Dave </p>

The Duelist
 
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Re: Bah! The Three Stooges of the Apocalypse:

Unread postby The Duelist » Mon Apr 05, 2004 8:51 pm

sooo...can I get some opinions? <p>------
------
<span style="font-size:xx-small;">I do not go medieval on peoples asses. I go Renaissance. There's an important difference. Medieval is just beating someone with a mace, but Renaissance is artful, sophisticated. Smooth, yet firm, powerful, yet distinct. Everyone knows when someone's gone Medieval on their ass, but they don't know Renaissance until its too late. -Wiseass Dave</span> </p>

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Zemyla
 
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Re: Bah! The Three Stooges of the Apocalypse:

Unread postby Zemyla » Tue Apr 06, 2004 7:15 pm

Very strange, and very funny. But I have a question: Where is Khazan? <p>-----
Do not taunt Happy Fun Zemyla.

I think boobs are the lesser of two evils. - Inverse (Pervy)
Dammit, Dan, I'm not dating a damn NPC! - OOC Will (Will Baseton)
Of course! Anything worth doing is worth doing completely wrong! - Travis English

Brotherhood of Elitist Bastards</p>

The Duelist
 
Posts: 450
Joined: Mon Jul 01, 2002 4:09 pm

Re: Bah! The Three Stooges of the Apocalypse:

Unread postby The Duelist » Wed Apr 07, 2004 5:38 pm

In this world/universe/etc., Khazan is supposed to be the Nexus of all Realities. And if anything ever existed , or will exist, it'll be there. Backdrop for the online game thingy. <p>------
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<span style="font-size:xx-small;">I do not go medieval on peoples asses. I go Renaissance. There's an important difference. Medieval is just beating someone with a mace, but Renaissance is artful, sophisticated. Smooth, yet firm, powerful, yet distinct. Everyone knows when someone's gone Medieval on their ass, but they don't know Renaissance until its too late. -Wiseass Dave</span> </p>


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