by
Magpie - Editor and Consultant: Power Girl
(Foreword: I'll flatter myself into thinking someone
is actually reading this, with all of the more visually spectacular
stuff on Supermegatopia, and say hello again. Well, this is the
second Worst Case Scenario piece. Much less grand in scale, but
still a good effort on the whole. Much thanks out to Power_Girl,
yet again for letting me bounce ideas off of the mink's head. And
for muckers on Supermegatopia, feel free to drop a line to me,
Bleu (Or Power_Girl at... Power_Girl) SMT, or at the email above
for comments, critique, or just to say hello. ^_^)
Team CAPES:
Spencer Hamilton - The Barnyard Terror, Techno
Pork. Known as one of the most durable heroes in the city, able
to regenerate from almost anything thrown his way (even bad publicity),
he is also one of the most well liked heroes. (By his fans. Those
who ACTUALLY know him usually want to push the little nancy off
a bridge)
Crikey Nikon - The CAPES camera-crocodile, he's
known to have an impressive insight into the criminal psyche, knowing
just how to piss them off, as well as always getting a great shot.
The Aussie croc is the best there is at what he does, and is the
most responsible for the finished product.
Barnaby Tull - The semi-proud father of Filia
Tull (A.K.A. Necro-Filia), he's known as "The Publicist", for his uncanny powers of hype and bullshitting. Acting as bean counter, he's
the accountant of the Capes crew, making sure to keep things on
budget, a thankless task if ever there was one.
Dr. Ratchet Cordova - Personal therapist, contract
negotiator, and evil mastermind, this lady has a full dance card.
But she claims to have taken a break from super villainy for some "me-time". How much one can trust the infamous "Reverse-Psychologist's" word however remains to be seen. But with amazing powers of double talk, and
mental chicanery, she gets the job done... with style.
Featuring Cameo Appearances by:
She Male, Dr. Ghoti, The Bambi Twins, and The
World's Largest Hamster
CAPES FILE ONE: "Gone
Fishing..."
"
Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they
come for you?" The
theme music played in the background as the announcer ran through
his spiel, "Capes is filmed on location with the men and women of vigilante law enforcement.
All suspects are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law."
Panning back from the imposingly muscled pig-man,
the camera finally found it's fixed shot as the hero lifted his
head, his blonde curly hair full of body and bounce as it framed
a face with a pure white shining smile. It was almost hypnotic,
so perfect were this pig's teeth, a dazzling sparkle lighting across
his incisors as the lights hit them just so. They contrasted delightfully
with his monotone black pleather uniform, and thick chrome gauntlets.
Lifting his face to the light, his stout chin
heroic and cleft, the pig folded his arms across his muscled chest
imposingly, in a deep baritone announcing to the camera, "Spencer Hamilton here again. Welcome to Capes in Supermegatopia. I'm better known
as the barnyard terror, Techno Pork. Everyone knows my cameraman,
Crikey Nikon."
Crikey Nikon was renowned for his knowledge of
the criminal psyche... almost as renowned as he was for irritating
them excessively. A fearless (some might say brainless) excuse
for a vigilante, his camera skills were beyond reproach... even
though his common sense wasn't always impeccable. The gator gave
a quick thumbs up, forgetting that no one could see him behind
the camera, as he shouted out to the home audience, "G'day!"
"Our villainy expert, Crikey will be
making commentary as the night goes on. He'll be... he'll be..." The deep baritone voice faltered, a perplexed look coming over Spencer's face
for a moment as his muscled shoulders slumped forward. Shrugging
to the camera, he let out a squealing little laugh, giggling in
an effeminate lisp, "Oh fudge... Line, please?"
On the phone behind the camera, Barnaby Tull slapped
himself upside the head, covering his cellphone microphone before
shouting back at Spence, "Oh for Christ's sake... this is just the new 5 O'clock spot preview, Spam. How
many takes do you need?" Barnaby wasn't a superhero really... he was a publicist. But then again, he
was the best there was at what he did. No bunny was his equal in
the field, earning him the title "The Publicist" in numerous circles. He'd tangled with numerous super-villains throughout his
career, including the Metallurgist, Magpie, and even the infamous
Dark Iguana. And to be frank, Barnaby would prefer dealing with
any ONE of the villainous bastards, then Spencer Hamilton.
"I could give you such a pinch!" The
pig-man lisped at Barnaby, tilting his snout up into the air haughtily, "I know you did not just call me that, Barnaby. My name is Spencer. Or Spence.
Or Mr. Hamilton. I do not like being called "Spam"." Fanning himself daintily with his black gauntleted hand, the pig snorted curiously
up at the director, "I'm thorry... what's my motivation? If the line is "everyone knows my cameraman", then why am I introducing him?"
"It's the script, Spence... just read
it. Everyone DOESN'T know Crikey, we're just implying that they
should." Since the fallout from the Cordova Tower incident (W.C.S. #1), Barnaby had extended
his grasp into numerous holdings, securing the 10% of numerous
heroes of prestige. He advertised three of the four Offenders he'd
managed to sign, though he was a bit more discrete in admitting
he was working as publicist for She Male.
But fame and profit weren't necessarily a matched
pair when it came to superheroes. The second most profitable account
in town was one "Spencer Hamilton", also known under the superhero identity "Techno Pork" (the most profitable being "The Bambi Twins", but they were impossible to get in contact with). There were stronger, smarter,
faster, better equipped heroes out there, but Spencer possessed
the super power most sought after in the industry. He was likable.
Or at least he could pretend to be. He was a vain, greedy, acting
school drop-out, closet case, but he had his trademark grin, curly
blonde hair, and a body that made the chicks go all melty inside...
Thusly gifted, there were only two choices open
to the pig man. To become a superhero or a member of a boy band.
And sadly, he couldn't dance, thus barring him from the boy band
racket. He couldn't sing either, but that never stopped any of
the other teen fad bands, so it was a moot point. But he had a
CALLING! He fought crime where ever he found it (usually around
5 o'clock on Tuesdays and Thursdays, central standard time).
"Good evening, gentlemen..." Walking
on set, cutting an impressive figure as always, Ratchet Cordova
set down her briefcase next to Barnaby. Dressed in a hot pink 3
piece-business suit, the cut of her skirt PRECISELY at mid-thigh,
the skunk was crisply pressed as if she had taken the time to position
every single strand of hair individually. This wasn't far from
the truth, her every action and aspect of her personality was calculated
and thought out far in advance. One of the most feared super villains
from the northern Kwijybo, she was known as the Reverse-Psychologist.
While she didn't have any powers as such, she
had an eerie insight into the psychology of those around her, and
she wielded this ability with a surgeon's grace. The rumor around
the campfire was that Ratchet had such phenomenal powers of rationalization
and psychological combat, she had once talked Slut Puppy into almost
twenty four hours of abstinence, a truly amazing feat.
Unfortunately being a super villain paid even
less then being a super hero, and she thusly took on odd jobs occasionally
to keep herself in the lifestyle to which she was accustomed. She
had been signed on as contract negotiations liaison as well as
Hamilton's personal therapist.
Stretching out his arms, Spence hopped off the
set platform, smiling cheerfully at the skunk, "Ratchet! Oh! Come, come! Give me a hug, girlfriend! I thought my session wasn't
for another two hours."
"It's not, Spence..." Looking
at his outstretched arms, the skunk cleared her throat demurely,
extending a finger in front of the cheerful pig, "What did we discuss about people's personal space last time, Spence?"
"Oh... right, thorry about that. You
look faboo..." Spence offered a compliment in place of a hug, as he had been instructed. It
seemed a lot less personal and friendly to him, but Dr. Cordova
had been quite adamant about not being touched.
"Thank you... Mr. Tull. There've been
some reports of activity on the docks. I would recommend you attend
to the matter. Dr. Ghoti has been sighted by our roving camera
crew."
Turning off his phone, the Publicist's nose twitched
as he calculated the cost of shooting on the docks, versus the
return on a battle with Dr. Ghoti, "Rampaging again? Isn't that Squid Guy's jurisdiction in the first place?"
Chiming in with an unwelcome comment, the barnyard
terror, nudged Crikey in the ribs, confiding, "Oooo... the docks... I love the docks. Thomething about sailors, you know?"
Barnaby turned away from the skunk long enough
to shoot a disparaging look at Techno Pork, "I'll bet."
"What do you mean by that?" Spencer
asked, his less then keen instincts somehow managing to pick up
an insulting vibe to the comment. Barnaby reminded himself for
the fifth time today, Spencer had been hired for his looks, "... go eat your lunch."
"Is it that time? Oh my!"
The therapist and bunny waited until Spence had
retreated to the snack cart before returning to the discussion.
Clearing her throat again, Ratchet continued, "Well, his name isn't Squid Guy... and yes, Captain Squid does normally handle
these cases, but with that conference on toxic kiwi disposal going
on, he's probably not going to make it in time."
This was thousands of kiwi bucks Barnaby was gambling
with here. If this footage had to be scrapped like the Buck Naked
and Techno Pork team up (scrapped due to excessive nudity on Buck's
part, and suggestive commentary on Spencer's part) it would mean
going over budget for the season. Which meant less money for the
actors, which meant less money for Barnaby. This had to be handled
with scientific and analytical precision. Barnaby drew out his
lucky silver kiwi, and flipped it into the air. As it landed on
heads, he nodded once to Crikey and Ratchet, before calling out
to Techno Pork, "... Spencer! We've got to roll."
"Can I finish my quiche?"
The bunny feigned deep contemplation of the question,
before snapping back, "... no. Get in the van, Spam." Shaking his head at the superhero as he ascended the steps of the "Capes" on location van, Barnaby snorted, "Quiche... what the hell kind of vonce superhero eats quiche'?"
Stepping up into the van, Crikey nudged the bunny
hard in the side, with a solemn look on his face, "Too-right... Actually, Ferret Man used to eat quiche. Dr. Velmont Narciss made
fun of him once. He shot him five times. Then he went an' shot
his lab assistants... All forty of them. And then shot his two
dogs. And then..."
"Shut up, and get in the car." Barnaby
snapped at the gator, taking a moment to look over his shoulder
to confirm that Ferret Man hadn't for some reason been passing
by. True, he was supposed to be dead, but everyone knew... superheroes
NEVER stayed dead for long in this town.
Stuffing the rest of his lunch into his mouth,
the barnyard terror leapt into the van, sprawling on his seat, "Oooo, road trip!"
Rubbing his eyes, Barnaby climbed into the driver's
seat, muttering to the camera-crocodile, "Crikey... we're going to need your expertise on this job. Make sure the goldfish
is motivated."
"Too-right!" The
Aussie croc snapped a quick salute back at Barnaby, before hopping
in the back. Techno was giggling with Ratchet, going over the edited
footage from the previous night. After five hours of eye-straining
digital alteration and over-dubbing it was impressive as always.
This was for sweeps week, and thusly, they'd wanted to team Techno
Pork up with an Offender's member, since Buxom Gal had refused
their invitation politely. Unfortunately, only one Offender in
particular was available for the shoot, but after editing (and
a large strategically placed censorship bar) the Clydesdale and
Pig duo were impressive to watch.
"You teamed up with She Male last night?
I've always wanted to meet... it. That must be an interesting case
study..." Ratchet pondered the psyche of such a rare creature idly, noting the size of
the censorship bar... her interest in the subject strictly medical,
of course. Techno Pork nodded to his therapist, leaning over to
confide to Ratchet, "And I hear she plays for both teams."
"Plays for both teams? By that you
mean she..." Ratchet murmured, struggling not to think about it. Well, understanding a person's
sexuality was a cornerstone to controlling them. But for some reason,
She Male just... creeped the skunk psychologist out.
"You see, She Male's a member of the
Offenders AND That... Socially Concerned Foursome or whatever they're
called. BOTH TEAMS!" He lisped with enthusiasm. Such enthusiasm, that Ratchet had to delicately wipe
off the excited pig's spittle from her pink lapel.
The van tore down the streets of Supermegatopia,
not so much "exceeding" the speed limit as doubling it. Barnaby rounded the corner on 5th and Main without
slowing, causing the van to tip precariously on two wheels. The
bunny shouted over his shoulder to the passengers, "Lean to the left!" The van continued tilting slowly off its wheels, forcing Barnaby to look back
over his shoulder to confirm something, "Your other left, Crikey!"
"Oh... my bad, mate."
Landing on all four wheels with a loud thump,
the van came to a screeching halt outside the main entrance to
the south docks. The sliding door unlatched itself, allowing the
steel ramp to fall down into place. With his usual efficiency,
Crikey Nikon pushed out his equipment, setting up the lighting,
sound, and multiple angle shots in under three minutes.
"Red leather, yellow leather. Red leather,
yellow leather..." Spencer repeated like a mantra, while Barnaby dug through his contracts. He
was looking for a 24-B, which was an internationally binding contract,
necessary for an amphibious villain. Maritime law was so complicated,
but unfortunately, if he wanted to work with Dr. Ghoti, he'd have
to be sure to cover the studio's ass. "Red leather, yellow leather. Red leather, yellow leather."
"Will you cut that out?!?!" Barnaby
finally shouted as his final strand of patience snapped under the
immense strain that was Spencer Hamilton.
Defensively, the actor shrugged helplessly to
the business suit clad bunny, "I'm limbering up my mouth, Barnaby!"
"... I REALLY didn't need to know that,
Spam."
"Don't call me that, you big silly.
You know I don't like it!"
The conversation was interrupted as Crikey Nikon
flipped the switch, the flood lights illuminating the docks in
a bright glow, "And... we're rolling! Oi, crikey! Spencer, start getting in character, right-right?"
Straightening up, Spencer stretched one last time,
clearing his throat, before lowering his voice. In his deep, sexily
heroic baritone, the pig turned his back to the camera, beginning
a monologue, "Tonight... the docks were put under siege by a rogue madman. And Captain Squid,
one of my most respected colleagues is away fighting environmental
evils abroad. Unfortunately, this has left the docks unprotected...
and villainy is ever vigilante, EVER WARY! Yes..."
Dramatically turning about to face the audience,
Spencer flashed his dazzling teeth at the camera, nodding as if
to reassure the audience, "But while evil lurks in the shadows, I... am lurking there too. Waiting... watching.
For justice is just as much of an insomniac as heinous villainy.
And as the fearless Techno Po..." The monologue was cut short as the storage building in back of the pig exploded
in a ball of green flame. Debris flew into the air in a brilliant
display, while Techno Pig let out a high pitched squeal in the
face of the explosion, "EEEEEEEEE!"
A vast shadow strode through the billowing cloud
of purple smoke, clad in heavy polished red power armor, his head
a gleaming sphere of glass. Resting on his shoulder, an imposing
handgun, boldly emblazoned with a cheerful yellow label "Portable Cannon of Land-Dweller Doom (tm)". Halting as his heavy boots stomped onto the edge of the main pier, Dr. Ghoti
snorted irritably at the gathering, "And who are you supposed to be?"
Shaking his head to clear his ears, Spencer held
up a finger, "Just a second... time out..." After a moment, as the ringing in his sensitive ears died down, Techno Pork
turned to Crikey, giving the gator the thumbs up. The cameraman
switched on the CD player, a heavy bass riff starting up from the
sound system. Cracking his knuckles, Hamilton posed with flare,
extending his finger at the doctor, "Who am I? I am the barnyard terror, Techno Pork. Fighting for justice, truth,
and all that is decent and wholesome. Prepare yourself, villain!" Reaching for his utility belt, Spencer tossed a smoke grenade down at his feet,
the device letting out a quick "Pffft" of smoke, then fizzling out.
Dr. Ghoti watched the whole scene unfold silently,
tapping the barrel of his cannon on his shoulder, "Are you... quite serious?"
"Oh yes... well... we fix it in the
edit. Smoke bombs are tho expensive." The pig admitted in his effeminate natural voice. Barnaby stepped past the posing
pigman, tapping a rolled up contract idly against his leg, "Yes, well, I'm sure you've seen the show before? Capes?"
Dr. Ghoti's eyebrows raised at the question, and
he shook his head, holstering his gun, "No, I haven't seen it, but I hear good things."
"Well, let me level with you. It's
sweeps next month, and we think you'd make a fabulous segment."
"I'm rather busy. I'm going to take
over the city, destroy all of the land dwellers, and ... well...
then I suppose I'll dance on the ashes or... that sort of thing
I imagine. So I'm afraid I..."
"You really should reconsider. Think
of the fame! The..." Barnaby was interrupted mid-spiel by Ratchet Cordova, the skunk pushing past
him, lifting her head to look up at the powersuit-clad fish. The
sleek little skunk nodded to Dr. Ghoti, "Hi, I'm a big fan. Dr. Ratchet Cordova. Love your work. Well, we won't keep you
any longer. A man of your stature can't be held up by material
wants."
"You love my work? ... I didn't know
I had any fans."
"Well of course, there are so few of
the diehard villainy fans. It's because you always get so little
exposure as a villain. I'm a super villain myself, I quite understand.
But we live for the art! For the sheer EVIL! To hell with lots
of money!"
"How much money did you say?"
"Twice the standard rate. Oh, and fans?
Who needs hundreds of screaming fans, willing to do whatever depraved
acts you desire? You're above all of that. That's what makes you
so... you."
"... depraved? How depraved?"
"Slut Puppy depraved. Of course, then
there's syndication, which with a classic like Capes, it's bound
to go into reruns, which would mean additional royalties to you.
But you... you go on with your smiting of the city thing. Prove
all of those people who call you a sell-out wrong!"
"... where is this contract?"
"Barnaby?" The rabbit
was staring at Ratchet with the same expression as a deer in the
head lights. She truly was evil incarnate...
Digging out the 24-B, Barnaby held it out to Dr.
Ghoti, outlining the parts he needed to sign, "Here and here and oh here... this protects us from legal actions from any injuries
you might sustain during the shooting."
After five minutes of paperwork, Barnaby nodded,
pocketing the contract, "Alright... Now... you have to let Spence go first."
"I have to... what?"
"You know. Let him rough you up a little
bit."
"... I have the cannon of land-dweller
doom. Why does he get to go first?"
"It's what the public wants. Do you
want to play for the Capes team or not, Doctor?"
Folding his arms across his chest, the evil mastermind
pouted, "Oh... fine!"
With another short nod, Barnaby patted Ratchet
on the shoulder, cueing her to get away from the set before the
fighting started. Shouting to the camera-crocodile, Barnaby jerked
a thumb in the direction of Dr. Ghoti, "Crikey... prep him."
"Prep me?" Dr. Ghoti
asked as the crocodile stepped forward, adjusting his lopsided
Australian hat. Turning to the camera, Crikey cleared his throat,
beginning in his cheerful Aussie accent, "G'day! Right... well I'm going start off by saying, this is a really special
case. Normally, I'd get this blighter riled by sticking my thumb
up his bum. But he's a fish in power armor, making it REALLY hard
to get a finger up his rectum. Thusly, you have to be creative...
like so."
Reaching up, Crikey began tapping a claw on the
fishbowl helmet of the doctor, turning to the camera to explain
as he "motivated" the Doctor, "This'll REALLY piss him off, you see."
"... stop it."
"Or there's always..." The
crocodile opened his jaws wide, clamping them on the bowl, making
fishy faces against the glass. His long tongue began lashing back
and forth making squeaking noises across the fishbowl.
With his fists clenched at his sides, trembling
with rage, Ghoti growled a good deal louder then the previous time, "Stop it." The crocodile removed his mouth, returning to tapping on the glass. Writing
across the breath-steamed surface of the fishbowl, Crikey spelt
out "Guppy" across the length of it, before tapping on it once more.
"STOP IT!" Dr. Ghoti
drew out his cannon, pointing the imposing handgun in the crocodile's
face, "Righto... he's motivated! Take a shot, Spence!"
Remembering two things, firstly that he was supposed
to kill Techno Pork, NOT the cameraman, and secondly, that he was
supposed to let the blonde nancy take the first couple of shots,
Dr. Ghoti could only mutter in frustration, "... in my day, a man wielded a cannon of land-dweller doom, and he got a little
fricking respect!"
Flexing his muscles, Techno Pork's pleather uniform
creaked under the strain, as he sprinted forward, "Your reign of terror ends...." The pig feet left the ground as Spencer took to the air, via his thrust boots.
Cutting them off quickly, he descended rapidly, bringing a fist
smashing down across the Doctor's "jaw", "NOW!" Spinning about as he landed, Spencer delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to
the stomach of Dr. Ghoti, followed by a rapid succession of rights
and lefts to the fishbowl.
"Do you think he knows that Dr. Ghoti
can't actually feel any of that?" Ratchet asked Barnaby from inside the van, as she took another handful of popcorn
from the bucket. Barnaby Tull had assumed it was obvious, but then
Spencer wasn't very bright. He probably thought he was winning
against the armored foe...
Finally Ghoti caught the pig's fist, turning to
Crikey, he cleared his throat, "... was that enough, or do I have to let him win a little longer?"
"No, too-right. I've got enough footage
to work with. You can fight back now. Thanks much! I should warn
you though, he's a master of hand to hand combat."
Ghoti nodded, as if thanking the croc for the
warning, before backhanding the pig with his steel cyber-gauntleted
hand, sending him flying. Crikey charted his progress through the
air, until he collided with the electric fence, "... crikey. That had to hurt."
"Oohhh... lucky shot. I was just...
uhmmm..." Spencer couldn't think of anything particularly bold to say as the fish settled
a heavy steel grip on his boot, dragging the pig back across the
docks for more punishment, "HEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!"
"We can edit that out." Barnaby
assured Ratchet, sipping at his soda as Ghoti retrieved the superhero,
swinging him about like a baseball bat. With a loud CRACK, Spencer's
back collided with a light pole. "And that... we can edit that."
*CRUNCH* "... that'll clean
up in the final cut."
*BANG BANG BANG* "...
I've never seen a pig bend that way."
Crikey winced at the spectacle, shouting over
to Dr. Ghoti, "Uhmmm, you can beat the crap out of him, but mind the dental work. Those teeth
cost more then you do."
"..." Ghoti was at loss
for words for a moment, but he was quick to recover his head of
steam. After ten minutes of constant pounding, the Doctor was getting
tired... dropping the pig in disgust, Ghoti leaned on his knees,
trying to catch his breath, "Is... that... *wheeze* all... *huff* you have? *gasp* Land-Pig?"
Spencer reached out a battered arm, dragging himself
up to his feet by the dumpster, shaking his head to clear it. His
hair audibly went "poof", regaining its bounce and body, his bruised and battered body mending itself
in an instant. Folding his arms across his chest, Spencer smiled
his dazzlingly perfect smile, light sparkling off as he posed heroically, "Justice can not be silenced by the battering fists of evil!"
"Regeneration? ... you've got to be
shitting me. Oh screw it." Dr. Ghoti muttered, not having the heart (nor the energy) to pound the pig into
the ground again, he drew his imposing hand cannon, "I'm just going to blow your head off, and call it a day. How does that work for
you?"
Tapping his chin as if thinking, the pig finally
decided, "Oh dear... I don't think I like that... wait! I know. Just a second." Spencer dug into his utility belt, removing his miniature megaphone, and he
lisped with as much force as possible, "THUNTMAN!"
"... did you say "stuntman"?"
Techno Pork nodded as Crikey handed him a white
towel. Drying the sweat from his healthy blonde hair, Spencer blew
his snout to clear it, before explaining, "Well, I usually like to do all my own stunts, but... well getting my head blown
off sounds dangerous."
Barnaby sighed, calculating the added expense
of bringing in "the stuntman", and picked up his phone, "... send in the stuntman."
Dr. Ghoti impatiently tapped the "portable
cannon of land-dweller doom (tm)" against his shoulder, "Look, could you speed things up? Where is this stuntman? If he doesn't hurry,
I'm not sure I'm still going to be homicidal when he gets here." There was a distant rumble, as of something heavy falling to the earth. It was
followed by a second... and a third... each louder then the first.
"That... would be him." Spencer
squealed softly, rushing back towards the van as a dark shadow
began to blot out the twilight sky. Stopping at the sliding door,
Spence waved back to Dr. Ghoti cheerfully, "Call me!"
Barnaby stuck his head out the window, shouting
over the "BOOM-BOOM" of approaching footsteps, "Thanks for your cooperation with Capes in Supermegatopia, Doctor. We'll automatically
apply the proceeds to any medical bills you incur." The stuntman roared as he reached the docks, his black beady little eyes shining
with playful maliciousness... it could only be The World's Largest
Hamster... wearing the World's Largest Prosthetic Pig Snout. The
world's largest prosthetic pig snout had to be designed especially
for the actor, but it had been well worth it to use such an amazing
stage presence!
Balling up a little hamster fist, he lifted his
arm high into the sky. Peering up at the monster, Dr. Ghoti looked
at his cannon of land-dweller doom, then back up at the hamster,
deciding that the gun would probably only piss it off more. With
a dejected sigh, he holstered the weapon as the hamster swatted
him into the ground, squishing his suit like a bug on a windshield.
Stomping off again, his work done, the hamster
beast left the set to retrieve his pay from the studio. Again,
a difficult star to accommodate, they'd had to have the world's
largest checkbook made for him. But again, sometimes you had to
pay for true artistic genius.
Hopping out of the van, Spencer shoved his hands
into his pockets, as he walked down the pier to the shattered remains
of the powersuit, a cracked fishbowl perched atop it, with a very
unconscious fish floating upside-down in it. Placing a foot on
the fishbowl, he held up his hand to Crikey, who tossed him a Kiwi
Cola.
Imposingly perched atop his fallen foe, Techno
Pork popped the top, and looked into the camera, giving it a winning
smile. In his most majestic and manly voice, he began, "After a hard day, pummeling evil... I like to pop open a Kiwi Cola and relax.
Remember citizens... it's the little things that make living life
worth while. And that's what we're ALL fighting for." After a long drink, he let out a satisfied, "Ahhhh.... refreshing. Grab yourself one at your local supermarket."
"And... Cut." Crikey
gave Spence the thumbs up, as he turned off the camera. Spence
leaned over, spitting out the green liquid and whining, "Ewwww... oh my god. I think I swallowed."
"It wouldn't be the first time." Barnaby
muttered, as he headed up the pier slowly. "Well, good work. It's gonna be a great show, guys. Kudos."
"This is just awful..." Techno
Pork squealed, peering at the can of soda as if it were radioactive.
He daintily held out the can to Crikey, "This is the worst thing I've ever tasted... Here, try thome."
"Hell with that... why do you always
do that? If it tastes that bad, why would I drink the blighter?"
"I was trying to see if it was just
me..."
"Same time tomorrow guys. We've got
some heavy edits and dubbing to do. Bright and early, alright?" Barnaby reminded Spence and Crikey, as he rested the yellow copy of the contract
on top of the broken shell of an evil mastermind. Ghoti would probably
be wanting to review his copy when he woke up, Barnaby assumed.
Looking at his watch, Spencer gasped, "Oh
my goodness! Well, my date's waiting for me. I'll thee you guys
tomorrow, kay?"
Barnaby coughed at the mention of a date, muttering
under his breath to Ratchet, "I wonder who the lucky fellow is."
Interrupting the rabbit, Crikey Nikon's eyes bulged
out as his superhuman cameraman sense kicked in, sensing a photo-opportunity
in the area, "Crikey... are those the Bambi Twins with Spam?"
"Bye again guys!" Spencer
gave a limp-wristed wave from outside the gate, before wrapping
an arm around the buxom deer girls, and starting towards the limo
service. Barnaby's ears slumped as he watched the trio speed off
down the street, "I thought... isn't he... you know?"
Ratchet raised an eyebrow, curiously at the Publicist
as he stuttered, uncomfortably, "Isn't he what?"
"You know! I thought he was a.. not
that there's anything wrong with it... but..."
"Crikey... both of the Bambi Twins?
That pig sure is MY hero, too-right!"
"Don't you have edits you should be
doing?"
"... you blighter."
+++
(Finished Product)
Case File # 3029
Southside Docks Incident
Report of Suspicious looking Evil Mastermind
In his deep, sexily heroic baritone, Techno Pork stood with his back to the
camera, a gentle breeze blowing his soft curly blonde hair, "Tonight...
the docks were put under siege by a rogue madman. And Captain Squid, one of
my most respected colleagues is away fighting environmental evils abroad. Unfortunately,
this has left the docks unprotected... and villainy is ever vigilante, EVER
WARY! Yes..."
Dramatically turning about to face the audience,
Spencer flashed his dazzling teeth at the camera, nodding as if
to reassure the audience, "But while evil lurks in the shadows, I... am lurking there too. Waiting... watching.
For justice is just as much of an insomniac as heinous villainy.
And as the fearless Techno Pork, I will see that the evil... is
put to bed at last."
A ball of green flame consumed the building in
back of the barnyard terror as if on cue. Debris flew into the
air in a brilliant display of pyrotechnics, maniacal laughter echoing
through the twilight setting.
The imposing form of Dr. Ghoti strode through
the billowing cloud of purple smoke, clad in heavy polished red
power armor, his head a gleaming sphere of glass. Resting on his
shoulder, an imposing handgun, boldly emblazoned with a cheerful
yellow label "Portable Cannon of Land-Dweller Doom (tm)". Halting as his heavy boots stomped onto the edge of the main pier, Dr. Ghoti
snorted irritably at the gathering, "And who are you supposed to be?"
A Diablo Donkey's riff began playing, the heavy
bass metal in time with Techno- Pork as he cracked his knuckles,
posing with flare. He extending his finger at the doctor as if
it were a loaded weapon, "Who am I? I am the barnyard terror, Techno Pork. Fighting for justice, truth,
and all that is decent and wholesome. Prepare yourself, villain!"
Reaching into his utility belt, Spencer tossed
a small black sphere on the ground, a thick black cloud covering
him for a moment. As it faded, Techno Pork had yet again vanished
RIGHT in front of the viewing public's eyes. A close up of Ghoti
showed him with a perplexed look on his face, before the camera
panned wide. Techno Pork rushed the fish, pummeling him repeatedly
in an impressive display of martial arts skill.
Leveling his cannon, the fish fired point blank
into Techno Pork's chest, sending the pig flying into the air.
But in a flash, Techno Pork was back on his feet, sprinting towards
Dr. Ghoti to renew his assault. Only very keen observers would
note it was stock footage from a different angle... luckily the
viewing public didn't have many people with that kind of attention
span.
Vaulting into the air, Spencer let out a deep,
manly shout of victory, "Your reign of terror ends..." As he flew at the mad doctor, Techno Pork pulled back his fist, his muscles
bunching a moment before he delivered an impressive downward strike
across Dr. Ghoti's helmet, "NOW!" The pier planks splintered under the force, Ghoti's armored suit shattering
from the sheer POWER of the Barnyard Terror's blow.
As the smoke settled, the camera came to focus
on Techno Pork... victorious, his boot perched atop the fallen
villain's fishbowl helmet, a kiwi cola in his hands.
Techno Pork popped the top, his sexy blue eyes
focusing on the viewers as he smiled at them with his shining orthodontic
perfection. In his most majestic and manly voice, he began, "After a hard day, pummeling evil... I like to pop open a Kiwi Cola and relax.
And remember citizens... it's the little things that make life
worth while. And that's what we're all fighting for." After a long drink, he let out a satisfied, "Ahhhh.... refreshing. Grab yourself one at your local supermarket."
As the scene faded out to the "CAPES" logo,
Crikey's cheerful Aussie accent cutting in before the commercial
break to announce, "G'day! Don't change the channel, right? CAPES will return after these messages!"
+++
Applauding frantically in the viewing room, Spencer nodded cheerfully
to Barnaby, "Damn
I'm good... Ratchet says I've got the presence of a young Deniro,
and the face of a.."
"... shut up, you ham."
"Ham? Oh I could give you thuch a pinch!"
"Well at least we didn't go over budget..."
Leaning in between the Barnaby and Spence before
they started fighting again, Crikey cleared his throat, "Too-right, when do I get my own show?"
"We've been over this... no one wants
to see some Australian freak with a wicked ass fetish."
"Well I like animals too... maybe kind
of a quasi-educational show! An educational show where I piss animals
off! We could call it... CRIKEY The Crocodile, Hunter!"
Gulping down the remains of his quiche, Spence
shook his head at the camera-crocodile, "That's just silly... who would watch that?"
"I actually agree with Spencer for
once..." The rabbit shuddered at the thought, his nose twitching suddenly. Sniffing at
the saline odor, Barnaby stood up from his chair looking around
the dark auditorium, "What smells like a salt lick?"
"Oh... thorry..." Spencer
giggled around a mouthful of quiche, sitting up in his chair, "I forgot, I invited a date to stop by and see the viewing... that's alright,
isn't it, Barnaby?"
Selectively deaf, the bunny ignored Spence, as
he leapt over the row of viewing seats, sprinting up the aisle.
The Bambi Twins! Here! As he raced through the dark auditorium,
a pen launched from the sleeve of his coat. Gripping it as if it
were a weapon, Barnaby twirled it about his fingertips with a flourish.
As the door opened, the rabbit reached into his three piece suit,
drawing out a thick contract to accompany the pen, and cleared
his throat, "Welcome to the Capes set. I'm Barnaby Tull... I was wondering if you were currently
represented, or perhaps not pleased with your agent. I'd be glad
to..."
"You already ARE my agent, Barnaby." The
shapely shadow gave Barnaby a good natured pat on the head. Even
in poor lighting he recognized the equine's green fur, purple uniform,
and the bulge in its spandex... Barnaby quickly lifted his eyes,
looking up at the ceiling, "Oh... hello... She Male..."
"Shimmy!" Spencer
shouted, standing up from his seat to wave down the horse.
"Hi Spencer! Has it gotten to the team
up yet?"
"No. You just missed Dr. Ghoti."
"WAIT!" Barnaby snarled,
his contract and pen vanishing into the confines of his suit once
more as he tried to push past She Male without actually touching
her, "Didn't you invite anyone else, Spam?"
"... now that you mention it."
Barnaby let out a sigh of relief, until he felt
a thunderous impact in the distance. The surface of Spencer's soda
shuddered, as if it's glassy surface was disturbed by a pebble.
And again... the impact much closer. Eyes narrowing, The Publicist
glared at his client, "You... didn't."
"Well he IS the stuntman."
"Crikey! Crikey?!?" Barnaby
looked about in a panic, not terribly surprised to find that the
camera-crocodile had already left his seat, and begun a mad dash
for the emergency exit.
As the ceiling was torn from it's moorings, and
The World's Largest Hamster peered into the theater, three things
went through Barnaby's mind. Firstly, that he wasn't going to be
signing the Bambi Twins today... Secondly, that no matter how hard
he tried, he wouldn't be able kill Spencer. But what really chapped
his ass... they were most DEFINITELY going to be over budget...
The End |