by
Magpie -- Prelude | Act One | Act Two | Act Three | Act Four | Act Five | Act Six
Act Five:
Countdown to "The Permanent Solution"; News at 5 if we're still alive...
1:32 P.M.
Cheddar's rattle-trap Buick choked as they pulled
out of the drive-way, sputtering out a rapid mechanical cough each
time he dared put
any pressure on the gas pedal. Thus he tried to take as many
downhill streets as he could to reach his destination. Unfortunately
there weren't many leading into downtown Supermegatopia. He
was agitated... and with good reason. He didn't think they stood
a snowball's chance in hell once he got to thinking about it.
Vixen Twobits? He'd heard a little bit about her before, and
none of it good. She was cunning, powerful, knew superhero
psychology,
and worst of all, she was intelligent. Most villains were just
masked boobs looking for a quick buck. But Vixen was a true mastermind...
A native to Supermegatopia, Cheddar knew plenty
about Ratchet Cordova as well, one of the most fearsome madwomen
to grace the city, she reminded him of that creepy cannibal therapist
from that movie... if he'd had breasts.
His concentration was broken by the sound of hard
candy and crinkly wrappers being dropped out of a canvas bag. Watching
out of the corner of his eye, the parrot whistled curiously at
Bleu as she poured out the contents of her bag on the dashboard, "What are you doing?"
"Well, we're going to be fighting,
right? I saved this for a special occasion..." The cowgirl lifted a slim plastic tube, it's slick wrapper all the colors of
the rainbow. It proudly proclaimed in large friendly green letters, "Kiwi Hyper Nixie Stick", while beneath that in smaller letters, "A sweet treat for the tongue". And finally, this message was followed by "Warning: Product has been known to cause insulin shock and kidney failure" in almost invisible print.
Every junk food authority knew just what it was...
the Hyper Nixie Stick was on the market for only a two week period
of time, a spliced SUPER SUGAR compound, its granulated contents
packed the sweetness of a thousand candy bars... They had been
recalled due to negative side effects, but Bleu had been sure to
preserve all that she could before they were taken off of the shelves.
As to why she had never freed them from their
triple thick plastic tomb... even she feared what they might do
when released. But what power it must possess within...
"A nixie stick?"
"A Hyper Nixie Stick! ... and it's
Kiwi flavored!"
"Uhmmm... okay." Cheddar
wasn't sure what to say really, but then Bleu Belle was apparently
impressed. He clicked his beak nervously, trying to keep his mind
on the task at hand. But something had begun to bother him, "We've got until five o'clock, Mr. Tull said. Then the device will detonate."
Chewing on a cherry iced donut, Bleu nodded to
him, her response muffled by the pastry. Cheddar took a deep breath,
trying to find the words. He had something rather important to
say, but as usual, the words just wouldn't come. Drumming his fingers
on the steering wheel, the parrot took another deep breath before
blurting out, "I don't think it's going to work out between us, Bleu."
Bleu eyes opened wide in response, the remains
of her donut hanging from her lips as she let out a muffled, "Moo?" Had she misheard him? What... what... why? Where had this all come from? What
had she done? What about last night?
"Well... I know it's my fault, but...
I've always had a little bit of hero worship. Bleu Belle... the
bovine brawler. The super heroine who battled snack food injustice
unwaveringly, and all of that. And well... you're... a great person
and all. But, you're just so... normal."
"You're breaking up with me because
I'm... too normal?!?!"
"Well... that and I think my parents
hate you."
"You can't!" Bleu
Belle protested frantically, gulping down the rest of her donut, "Last night I shared something personal with you, Cheddar! You've seen my birthmark!
... NO ONE ELSE HAS SEEN MY BIRTHMARK! Are you leaving because
of my birthmark? Oh God! I knew this would happen!" She'd spent years hiding it, never wearing two piece swimsuits, never exposing
her midriff, despite fashions whims... and now, the first person
she'd dared show the strawberry shaped blemish to...
Cheddar took his eyes off the road to look into
her blue eyes, whistling softly, "You have a birthmark?"
Bleu's eye began twitching involuntarily, as she
untucked her shirt frantically, "YES! Right here!" She pointed out the small blemish, with a growingly maniacal glint in her soft
bovine eyes.
"Oh... it's cute...." The
parrot commented off hand, as if unshocked by the ghastly brand.
"Cute?!? CUTE?!?! I..." Cute?
It was grotesque! Bleu's ears drooped down as she began to think
out loud, "So... you really ARE breaking up with me because I'm too normal?"
"... yes."
Bleu tried to think of something to say, some
way of telling the parrot how she felt for him, even though it
had only been a span of two days. And how much fun she had with
him. And... there was so much she wanted to say. But most importantly,
there was one thing that couldn't go unsaid, "Cheddar... you're a retard. You know that, right?"
2:03 P.M.
"This is Pamela Panda reporting for K-FUR
7 News, at the scene of what appears to be another doomsday threat.
While Supermegatopia
has had it's share of these in the past, due to unfortunate timing,
it seems that our most beloved heroes are not available. However,
in a startling turn of events, here at Cordova Tower, working in
conjunction with the S.M.P.D. four members of the "W.C.S.
Unit" have arrived. Apparently a failsafe plan by our beloved mayor, deep cover operatives
have been placed throughout the city, lying in wait for just such
an emergency.... Of the four on the scene, while everyone is familiar
with the Titan, it's a shocker, but infamous serial hugger, Cuddles,
The Snugglebug is apparently also a deep cover operative of the
W.C.S., as well as socialite deadly bunny duo, Necro-Filia and
Capt. Cadaver. With rumors running rampant, the city can only sit
and watch these brave agents in the coming struggle."
2:17 P.M.
"Shouldn't we wait for Cheddar?" Filia
asked her father nervously, looking up at the massive stone steps
leading to the main entrance of the evil lair. She wasn't sure
why, but the whole place gave her the creeps. The spooky black
granite steps, the cold industrial feel to the entry way, the bug
eyed domes that housed the security cameras, yep... it was the
domain of an evil mastermind alright.
Barnaby dug out his pocket watch, shaking his
head at the time, "To hell with the parrot. He'll get here when he gets here, pumpkin. Victoria
and Tina are on P.R. detail, so they won't be able to help you
either, sweetie. Can you fight evil for daddy?"
Looking back up at the black maw of the building,
Filia sighed, "Like... okay. Come on Patrick..." Filia grabbed hold of the Captain's collar, dragging the dead weight behind
her, the steel plating of his britches making a CLANK sound each
time she hefted his butt over a step.
The bunny took one look back at the assembled
press vehicles, and cheering onlookers, before entering through
the glass revolving door.
Filia looked about the large empty reception area,
calling out, "Hello? Hello? Are there any super villains here?" The marble floors caused her voice to echo in the vast empty room. Not a single
thing decorated the pitch black room, save an old style deco elevator
at the far end. It was just creepy...
The elevator doors let out a merry "ding" as
they slid open, causing Necro-Filia to jump and squeal. The sliding
doors revealed a lemur girl in a pink S.S. uniform manning the
controls, "We've been expecting you... I'm Ratchet Cordova. Welcome."
"Uhmmm hi! Are you a super villain?"
Tilting her head to the side, the lemur seemed
to ponder the question, replying, "Do I look like a super villain?"
Taking in the gaudy pink outfit, Filia decided
the answer was a definite no. She didn't look anything like a super
villain. Actually she looked more like an elevator operator come
to think of it, "... I guess not."
"Well thank you." Cordova
smiled a disarming little grin at the bunny rabbit, despite her
frustration. Her powers were working at their maximum, but it was
difficult even for the master of reverse-psychology to play word
games with a dumb bunny.
"Well then have you seen any around?"
"Any what?" Ratchet
asked innocently, as if she was lost. Exasperated, the blonde bunny
exclaimed, "Like... villains!"
"Oh, yes..." Ratchet
nodded slowly, as if she just now understood the question. Firing
back at the rabbit, Ratchet shrugged helplessly at the armored
bunny, "What do they look like?"
Filia paused to ponder. That was a good question. "Uhmm
evil. They look evil... really evil. So... have you... you know...
like..."
"Like what?" Yes...
this was the feeling! YES! There was no greater feeling in the
world then befuddling the forces of justice! Just a little more
and she'd make the rabbit girl's head explode! Rubbing her head,
Filia sniffed, making a gagging noise, "What's that smell?"
"Oh no..." Cordova
muttered as a thick green mist began to emanate from the entrance,
a diminutive figure striding forth through the revolving door.
Black as the night sky covered in a oil spill, hacking out a tune
as it came closer, it could only be one creature, "Magpie! What are you doing out?"
Eyes glowing red as a green battle aura of stench
surrounded the small bird, the Scottish scavenger gritted his teeth
(or rather would have if he had them), "What am ah doing out? Well now... Ah spose ah'm out so I can cram ye into a footlocker
with a nest of bees, ye fookin' femdom skunk tart ..."
"Wait! Magpie! I was just... look,
I thought a little role-playing might make it more exciting!"
Filia scratched her head looking back and forth
between the two, "Uhmmm like, I'm still here and stuff. Are you a villain?"
"No. Ah'm a magpie, ye carrot sucker.
Ah thought carrots gave ye good eyesight. Ah've about fookin' had
it with ye lot." The blackbird snarled around his cigar, the noxious green cloud swirling into
frightening shapes as if it were alive. Tossing his wings out wide,
his jacket flying off entirely, the vile stench was of such power
his cigar fizzled out, the green wind pushing Ratchet back. Bracing
herself, the skunk let out a shout as she was taken off her feet,
and slammed into the far wall with a resounding thud.
"Ah'm no one's boy toy..." Magpie
muttered, spitting out his dead cigar as he trudged off to retrieve
his jacket. The confused bunny was sure she'd missed something,
but the fact remained she hadn't run into any super villains yet, "Uhmmm have you seen any villains around, Mr. Bird?"
"Fookin' furries..."
2:22 P.M.
The argument had escalated since they'd entered
downtown. Cheddar's air conditioner was broken, as were his power
windows,
making
the heat sweltering inside the car as they continued down the
road at a brisk twenty-five miles an hour, "Well
it's not easy for me... you're just not the cow I thought you
were, okay? I was expecting... I was expecting someone who was
more dynamic. You're kind of... dull. All you do is talk and
eat."
"Of course that's all I do! I'm a cow
girl, you jackass! We spend most of our time grazing!" Bleu shouted, no longer trying to salvage any relationship. Too normal? Dull?
Oh that fucking parrot was asking for it. "So you mean you went out with me because of a comic strip?!? You ARE retarded!
You're twenty-two, and you want to date a cartoon character rather
then a real woman?"
"You're not a superhero, you wouldn't
understand. It's about... it's about an ideal."
"What? I'm more of a superhero then
you are. Goth Cheddar... What the hell is gothic about cheese anyways?"
"Well... cheese is the..."
"Oh shut up! I don't really care..." Bleu
interrupted, not one for origin stories. They aggravated the crap
out of her, mostly because everyone had to tell you them. It was
the fishing story of a superhero. "I once caught a fish this big. And he bit me, giving me super flounder powers." Men... why couldn't they be more like chocolate? Sweet and sincere.
Clicking his beak angrily, Cheddar observed bitterly, "You're
not being very rational about this."
"Rational?!?! You slept with me, saw
my birthmark, got my apartment smashed, and now you're dumping
me because I'm too normal! How rational is that?"
Defensive now, Cheddar rested his head on the
steering wheel as they came to a stop light, clarifying, "Slept with you? Wait now, I said it was a bad idea! You were the one who jumped
on me!"
"Oh, that's rich! You fanboy! I didn't
hear you complain!"
"What do you mean I got your apartment
smashed?"
"Well *I* don't have any demon sock
monkey arch-enemies. Know why? I'm not a superhero! I don't have
ANY arch-enemies. So it must have been tailing you!"
"Oh right, with your attitude, you've
probably got more enemies then ten superheroes, you mammal! Some
revolutionary, the snack food community would do better with someone
who wasn't so damned selfish!" Cheddar snarled back, finally loosing his temper entirely. A Snickers bar leapt
to Belle's aid, biting onto Cheddar's hand with impressive force, "GAH! Get it off!"
"Heel! Heel! Don't eat him! He didn't
mean it!" Bleu Belle insisted, prying the jaws of the candy bar off of Cheddar. It growled
menacingly at the parrot as Bleu held onto the rampaging Snickers,
petting it softly to calm the beast.
"Don't eat me?!" Cheddar
exclaimed, amazed at the size of the teeth marks in his black gloves.
It was as if he'd been nipped by a bulldog. A big bulldog, "Now you're using your powers against me?"
"... it doesn't work like that, and
you know it." Bleu sniffled, snuggling the candy bar as if it were her pet puppy dog, "They're my friends, they get mad around jackasses, and you're being a jackass!"
"Oh really?"
"YEAH! JACKASS!" She
shouted as the car sputtered it's last, dying in the middle of
the street with a final wheeze. Cursing, the parrot hopped out
of the car, kicking the hood open, "This is just great... JUST GREAT!" Smoke billowed from the engine block, a razor sharp toffee bar wedged through
the pistons, "BLEU!"
"... I'm not talking to you!" Bleu
called from inside the car, pouting gloomily as she gnawed on a
hefty chunk of kiwi jerky. Cheddar sighed, sitting on the front
fender of the Buick. Well that hadn't gone well... no, not at all.
It was his usual problem. He couldn't talk to women, even when
he was trying to be noble.
Belle was right at breakfast. It was a suicide
mission, but she was so damned stubborn there was no way he could
talk her out of going with him by asking her to stay behind.
"Well, maybe she's pissed enough that
she won't follow me... at least she'll be alive." He muttered to himself, not sure why the plan hadn't worked as smoothly as it
had in Maximum Marsupial, issue 3... Sometimes he wondered how
reliable his research materials were.
The door slammed as the mad cowgirl got out of
his Buick, her cheeks puffy and blotchy. Whistling as he stood
up, Cheddar cooed, "Where are you going?"
"What do you care?" Bleu
mooed over her shoulder, not bothering to look back as she stormed
across the parking lot. It was as she reached the curb that the
cowgirl fell over, clutching her head against a psychic onslaught
the likes of which she'd never felt before. Somewhere a whole lot
of junk food was in a whole lot of trouble...
"Bleu!" She opened
her eyes, apparently having passed out from the force of the snackable's
psychic anguish. She smiled up at Cheddar for a moment, before
remembering she was supposed to be pissed at him. Bleu turned her
face away from the bird boy, muttering, "I'm okay..."
As he helped the cowgirl to her feet, Cheddar
dusted her off, worrying over her like a parent, "What happened?"
Bleu took a moment to reorient herself, shaking
her head back and forth to clear it. Listening for a moment, she
turned to the large white building across the street, pointing
a finger at it as she mooed, "... that."
"Brinkley Brothers Fruitcake Processing
Plant?"
"... you know anything about fruit
cake? There's no more pathetic snack food in the world. Wrapped
in plastic, then caged in tin... no one eats them. They just sit...
sit inside, passed back and forth, never eaten... never opened..." Posing dramatically as the wind stirred her hair and clothing into a frenzy,
Bleu turned back to look at Cheddar, "Go on. You've got a city to save, Goth Cheddar. I've got something more important
to do."
"More important then saving the city?
Freeing fruit cake from it's packaging is more important then saving
the city?" Cheddar protested, wondering if she'd maybe been driven insane from the heat.
More important then saving the city? Saving the city was what every
superhero dreamed of. Fifteen minutes of fame, etc, etc. Action
figures, comic books, it was everything!
"Moo... This is Supermegatopia, Cheddar.
The city's always in danger, and there's a thousand superheroes
out there, looking for a chance to save it. You want to be a hero,
fine. Are you in this for the glory? Or because you want to help
people, Cheddar? Me... I'm not a superhero, but I'm still gonna
go help some people."
"Fruitcakes aren't people!"
Ignoring him, the bovine brawler slung her bag
over her shoulder again, striding towards the nondescript white
factory. Shaking his head, Goth Cheddar returned to the Buick.
He began looking through the trunk of the car for something to
dislodge the toffee bar wedged in the fuel injection system, while
brooding. Was he only in it for the glory? In his defense, what
else WAS there for a superhero? No benefits, no pay, no union,
no nothing...
Conceding that she was right made him even more
angry. Glaring at the toffee bar as he found a wrench, the parrot
boy growled, "What are you looking at?"
2:34 P.M.
Closing his eyes against the flashbulbs, Magpie
sullenly glared mutely at the reporters as they crowded about to
shove
microphones
in front of his beak, ""How
does it feel to be the toast of the town? Single handedly defeating
Ratchet Cordova, it must be a shock to many of your super villainous
colleagues to have an undercover hero in their midst."
Choking on his cigar, the black bird wheezed out, "Come
again? Are ye fookin' daft? Ah'm a criminal henchbird, ye fookin'
furry bastards."
"That's the conditioning talking. He's
been under deep deep cover for years." Barnaby explained, taking his place behind the small leather clad scot. Still
bandaged from their previous fight, Barnaby smiled wickedly at
the little black bird, as he nodded enthusiastically to the camera, "No, he's actually one of our main strategists. I tried to keep him in a desk
job, but he likes to crush evil with his bare hands. Of course
now the evil organizations he's worked for know he was a mole,
and might try to have him assassinated. But being a superhero has
some hazards, which he knew when he signed up."
"Oh, ye long eared bastard..." Magpie
muttered, his shoulders slumping as he realized this was some sort
of twisted revenge plot of the rabbit. He wasn't a superhero damn
it! This was slander! He could sue!
"Remember, Magpie... there's no such
thing as bad publicity." Barnaby whispered, giving the bird a wink on the sly, before retreating from
the swarm of reporters.
Magpie moved to follow the rabbit, only to be
blocked by a mike wielding bear in a brown suit, "Mr. Magpie! Are you concerned for your safety now that your identity has been
revealed, and do you expect any assassination attempts from your
former employers now that you've been exposed?"
"... well actually, ah hadn't thought
about it until ye brought it up. Thanks much ye pinko reporter
git. Piss off!"
"What about Necro-Filia and Captain
Cadaver? What part did they play in this joint effort?"
"Mostly asked stupid questions... a
lot like ye fooks'. Are ye all hiring a weather bunny?"
Sticking her head in, Filia squealed indignantly, "That's
not true! Patrick and I found the villainess elevator operator!"
Pamela Panda pushed past the crowd to shove a
microphone into Filia's face, "And also I assume you were the one who disarmed the device, saving the day, keeping
the citizens of Supermegatopia safe. Tell us how you disarmed the
Permanent Solution, Ms. Tull!"
The bunny cocked her head to the side, scratching
the top of her helmet as if she didn't understand the question. "Uhmmm..." The microphones moved in closer as she began to speak, causing her to clam up
again. She fidgeted nervously under the eye of the cameras, embarrassed
as she asked, "Like... what's a device?"
"Oi... it's like a gizmo, ye re-re.
Ye know... the Permanent Solution. Gonna go off in two hours, maiming
thousands of people and what? ... why ye came here in the first
place?"
"Oh! That device! I... I'll be right
back." Filia laughed nervously in front of the cameras before turning around, her suit
powering up audibly. Taking off, she sprinted up the stairs, leaving
the stunned reporters alone with Magpie and Patrick.
Puffing on his cigar, the magpie nudged the armored
corpse next to him, muttering, "Ach, Christ, we're all so very fookin' dead. Is there another back up plan or
is she it?"
2:50 P.M.
"Yes... the Buick's at the Brinkly Brothers...
that's correct, I'll be paying with credit card. Thanks." Cheddar
hung up on the tow truck, before slumping against the wall of the
phone booth. Two hours till the deadline, and he couldn't even
get TO the Tower in the first place. Some superhero...
Stepping out onto the street, he flopped down
on the curb, staring glumly at the Fruitcake Factory. Bleu was
probably inside raising hell... or at least buying as many fruit
cakes as she could. He realized quite well that he should probably
go after her and apologize, but he'd wanted to keep her out of
danger.
At least nothing could happen to her in a Fruit
Cake Factory...
2:55 P.M.
Everything had made sense this morning. Bleu had
an attractive parrot for a boyfriend, and even if she wasn't sure
about the
whole love issue, she really LIKED him at the very least. It
had been a perfect night, a perfect morning... well except
for Cheddar's parents, but the cow girl could see where they were
coming from after her rude introduction. When the hell did
her
life turn upside down? ... again? That time... Her origin story,
during... the war.
"No! Mooo! I won't remember that time..." She
scolded herself as she came to the entrance of the Brinkly Bros.,
the Alabama cow girl getting the passing feeling that the yellow
smiley faces painted on the factory doors were laughing at her.
Bleu frowned back, before kicking one square in the forehead, slamming
the door open.
Snorting like a bull, she tried to push the thought
aside as she stormed into the factory office, mooing with all the
rage she could muster, "Where's the manager? I want to speak to the manager! I... moo?"
The pleasant little reception area had been decorated
with fresh flowers, the Brinkly Bros. logo, Freddy the Fruitcake,
waved merrily from the far wall. Yet there didn't seem to be a
single person about. Had they evacuated? That was ridiculous...
no city folk evacuated Supermegatopia! Doomsday threats were bi-weekly!
So then... where had they gone? Bleu inched in
cautiously, her anger abating by degrees as fear took hold. It
was eerie... like one of those alien movies where everyone on the
planet was snatched up, leaving only a few survivors to stumble
about the under populated new world. "Mooo?"
Catching sight of a cardboard cut-out of Freddy
Fruitcake wearing a hardhat, she sighed, half with relief and half
with some wistfulness... It was just being renovated. Aliens HADN'T
snatched most of the population, which was nice she supposed. But
it might have been kind of cool. No lines at the movies, no traffic...
Entering to read the sign, she found she had to
move right in front of the Fruitcake cutout. The print was terribly
small, and she was forced to step up to a small square of shag
carpeting in the middle of the room to examine it, "Welcome to Brinkly Brothers. I'm Freddy the Fruitcake, and I'm sorry to inform
you that we are currently undergoing construction work. If you
would like to schedule an appointment, feel free to call the number
below."
"Damn..." As usual,
her luck was utter crap. There wasn't even anyone here for her
to yell at. "How the hell can this day get any worse, mooo?" The cow girl shouted at the cardboard fruitcake, as if he cared. It was at this
point in time that the lights shut off suddenly, the shag carpet
square collapsing in beneath her feet.
"Moo?" Bleu repeated
as she fell into the pitch black maw of the trapdoor. She didn't
fall far, which was fortunate, because the cow girl chose to land
on her head. Stars sparkled in the darkness for a moment from the
impact. Above the ringing in her ears, the bovine could hear the
sound of scissors snipping in the background, "... well. Isn't fate a funny thing? I was hoping I'd run into you again, Cowpie."
"Again?" Bleu tried
to ask, not recognizing the menacing vixen barber. Cowpie?!?! She
hadn't been called that in almost a decade. Not since grade school...
How... who the hell was she? But rather then asking Vixen, the
cow girl instead chose to let her head slump to the floor as she
fell unconscious.
3:23 P.M.
"Device... device... device..." Filia
had spent the past half hour going floor by floor looking for the
device. The problem was she didn't really know what it looked like.
Maybe the bird fellow knew, but he'd been so groady, she didn't
want to team up with him, even if dad said he WAS part of her super
team.
She'd thus far destroyed ten photocopy machines,
fifty computers, and countless coffee machines, in search of "The Device". Finally... she came to the conclusion around floor fifty that there was only
one place it could be. Exiting the elevator one last time, the
bunny stepped out onto the tar and gravel landscape of the rooftop.
"Dad..." Filia chimed
into her wrist radio, sweating terribly in the glaring sun. She
was a late night hero after all... this late afternoon heroism
stuff wasn't for her, "I can't find it. There's no one here..."
"Sweetie, I'm in a press conference
right now. Just keep looking. I got a call from Mr. Cheddar, and
he'll be here soon, okay? Do what you can until he gets here."
"But..." Filia trailed
off as something red and black caught her eyes. Standing at the
other side of the rooftop, Hurley Quinn's longcoat billowed in
the wind, the hyena's cackle echoing oddly over the wide rooftop
expanse, "I thought they were sending a bunch of superheroes..."
"Hey! You again!" Filia
rested her gauntlets at her hips, glowering at the evil clown, "This time I'm gonna like... kick your ass!" Necro-Filia performed one of her coolest karate combos, ending in a frightening
pose complete with defiant grin and peace sign.
Hurley's bells rattled as she began snickering
at the power-suited bunny. Furious now, Filia screamed, "Like... What's so funny? No one can defeat my amazing and dazzling combat skills!
You want a piece?"
Hurley scratched her head as she approached, reaching
into her coat, "Uhmmm... actually I wasn't gonna fight you. I was just planning to shoot you..." This explained, she slowly withdrew her hot pink pie revolver, grinning as she
growled out in her best Dirty Harry impression, "This is a Barnum and Bailey special, single serving pie revolver with two inches
added onto the standard five inch barrel, and an eight pie chamber.
You just have to ask yourself one question. Do you feel lucky?
Well? Do you? PUNK?"
"Like... you're going to shoot... pies
at me?" Filia held up her hands mockingly, trembling with laughter more then fear, "Oooo some villain. I mean... come on. I know you've got a clown thing going,
but like..." The bunny was interrupted as Hurley fired off a round, the single serving cherry
pie blowing a two foot diameter hole into the floor at the bunny's
feet, "Heh... kay..."
Raising her eyebrows at the stunned cheerleader,
Hurley cocked the pistol again, taking aim leisurely, "Time to die, bunny-girl. Well, at least now you and your boyfriend'll have something
in common, right?"
Filia stopped to think about the question, not
really understanding it. Finally she ventured a guess, asking, "Like.. You mean we're both bunnies?"
The clown girl dropped her pistol arm to slap
herself in the forehead, groaning, "... you are SO blonde."
3:46 P.M.
"You're a tow truck driver
too?"
Cheshire Muggs hopped out of the tow-truck, laughing
as she waved to the parrot boy, "Well, it pays the bills... And you wouldn't believe the rent on my apartment.
Wow... this is yours?" Cheddar noticed she was wearing her tail out, as she bent over to inspect the
Buick, dressing risqué whether a bartender or truck driver. The
kitty repeated, "Wow... what a piece of crap. You noticed you've got a toffee bar wedged through
your pistons, right? That can't be good for fuel injection."
"Yeah... I didn't think so. I don't
want to sound rude, but..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard. You need
a lift to Cordova Tower. Big break for you, isn't it? High profile
for someone so new to the business. So... why do you look so pissed
off?"
"Pissed off? I'm... I'm fine."
"Girl trouble, huh?" Cheshire's
bartender sense was keen, despite the fact she was at her other
job. Glaring at the tabby, Cheddar noticed something rather odd
about her, "Has your mole moved?"
Daintily stroking the blemish at her cheek, the
cat laughed, "That's a beauty mark. And no. You really suck at changing the subject, don't
you? It's so cute when you try to think. Your eyes scrunch up like
someone kicked you in the... well... it's funny. No wonder she
likes you."
"... who?"
"The cowgirl. You two had a fight,
right?"
"... yes. Look, Ms. Muggs, I'm very
impressed. You could have been a detective. Now... since you know
so much, why don't you use your detective skills and stop talking?"
"Hrmmm... you should apologize." Cheshire
nodded as she hauled the tow chain out, apparently not catching
the hint that he wanted to drop the subject.
"Why? How do you know I was wrong?
She called me a retard!"
"You're a man. The man's always wrong.
Even when he's right. You don't date much do you?"
"Of course women can be wrong!"
"Well... I think the question is, do
you like her enough to let her be right... even if you think she's
wrong. That's what love is you know."
"Look... we didn't have a fight like
that. I'm going up against Vixen Twobits, and she wants to help!
I... told her I didn't have any interest in her, so I could keep
her out of danger, okay?" It sounded... rather stupid now that he said it out loud. Bleu Belle was the
bovine brawler for Christ sake! The Dark Chocolate Knight! He was
a side kick to a third string superhero team!
"Wow... you are a retard." Cheshire
laughed, slapping the parrot boy on the shoulder merrily, before
stooping back over to finish latching the car up, "Well... I can take you to Cordova if you want."
"Alright."
"But... I think you'd do better to
go next door, get her some flowers and kiss her ass."
"... I'm a superhero. I have a job
to do. I can try to make up with Bleu later."
"Okay..." Cheshire
shrugged, opening the door to the passenger side to let the parrot
boy into the truck.
3:51 P.M.
Sucking sullenly on a bottle of lager, Magpie
sighed. Two years... two years of work to establish himself as
a criminal
henchbird
for hire. His resume was useless now. No one cared about the
work he did for Dr. Dementia, or for Cordova, or for the Cult
of the PinkBelly. Nope...
No one was going to hire a damned superhero, even
one who said he wasn't one. Because hell... if you asked an undercover
superhero if he was a superhero, would he say "Yes?" Hell no.
So even though he wasn't a superhero, Magpie was
smart enough to realize he was utterly completely and totally screwed.
And so he'd retreated to the nearest pub with his new friend, the
dead bunny and more importantly, with his wallet.
Digging out another twenty dollar bill, the blackbird
lifted his head up at the bartender, "Oi... where's the dead guy I came in with, ye nancy bottle tosser?"
The poodle behind the bar made a face at being
called a nancy, but then he was used to drunken rowdies, "Hrmmm? The rabbit? I thought he went to the bathroom."
"... the bathroom? He's fookin' dead.
Why would he be in the head?"
"Well I guess when you gotta go, you
gotta go."
"... you can shut up and get me another
beer now, ye fricking hairy fairy. Fookin' poodles."
4:02 P.M.
*(Flashback warning)
" This is war, Westclox. We do not take prisoners. The enemy is evil...
evil to the core. But they're so damned deeply entrenched in society...
our only choice is to rehabilitate them. To know the nature of
the enemy."
"Nature of the enemy?" Westclox
Weasel shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee, "Bleu...it's just candy. And this... Tres Leche is some mad bee." Lifting a finger to stop Bleu Belle before she started, "I didn't mean anything against bees, but this Leche woman is crazy. She has no
degrees, no professional training, and... she thinks she's a candy
therapist?"
"The theory happens to fit into our
hypothesis perfect, Westclox. I think she's right. Junk food hates
us... We will educate the enemy, that we mean them no harm."
"You're acting like this is war..."
"I AM waging a war!"
+++
It was a battle that was vaster then any ever
known before. A silent war taking place at every grocery store
on the planet.
She was
there on the front lines for most of her professional career...
she always thought she was doing the right thing, fighting
for the right side in the battle of the bulge. Candy bars, potato
chips, sodas... maliciously swollen with calories and fat,
they
attacked the tooth enamel of the populace, swelling their stomachs,
slowly poisoning their consumers. But Dr. Bleu Belle wasn't one to let them get
away with it, the head scientist of Project Ambrosia, she had taken
up the most awesome of tasks. To create the perfect snack food,
Ambrosia, the junk food of the gods. A fat free sugary snack with
the texture and taste of rich milk chocolate with a hint of amaretto.
Most importantly... non-synthetic. Belle had her own radical notion
as to how to achieve the impossible, believing in a field of scientific
study still in it's infancy, that of "candy therapy".
+++
The stone corridor was dank, smelling sweetly
of chocolate and corruption. Dr. Belle adjusted her suit as she
stepped down the
hallway cautiously, keeping to the right side of the stone
walkway, away from the cells. The inmates were silent, kept in
their wrappers,
but there was no need to risk her safety. Finally she came
to the final cell, a thick bullet proof glass wall protected her
from the inmate inside...
Switching on the "Snack
Translator" she cleared her throat, "Mr. Bar? Excuse me... I..."
The subject remained in the shadows, rasping in
a voice that was tainted with seductive milk chocolatey evil, "Hello Clarice..."
"Uhmmm... my name is actually Dr. Belle.
Dr. Bleu Belle."
"Of course it is... and my name is
Mr. Amaretto Toffee Bar. I didn't let them inject artificial amaretto
into my nether regions, nor did I suffer the toffee bits that have
been wedged into my tender cocoa flesh so I could be called "Mr. Bar". What brings you here?" Peering inside as best she could without touching the glass, Dr. Belle could
make out the glint of a foil wrapper, and could definitely smell
a hint of amaretto.
"I'm here to rehabilitate you."
"Oh? And what is it that I need rehabilitation
from?"
"You're sick... angry... I'd like to
help cure you."
"True, I am angry. A little vengeful...
but who's to say I'm wrong? Who says I need to be cured?"
"Supermegatopia County, I'm afraid.
You're a madma... well, you're not a well balanced chocolate bar...
what started this anger? When was the first time?"
"Are you trying to analyze me? Dr.
Westclox tried to analyze me..."
"I'm aware. It took twelve stitches
to patch his cheek up."
"Yes. The most deadly of candies is
toffee... deceptively sweet and creamy... yet as sharp as steel.
You'd do well to remember that."
"I will, Mr. Amaretto Toffee Bar. But
it would really help if you'd tell me about the first time you
felt this need for vengeance."
"... maybe tommorrow."
+++
The first session went well, the subject Mr. "Amaretto
Toffee Bar" having shown the signs of a troubled childhood, that led to a rebellious and
violent lifestyle. Angry at the world, it took out it's sugary
vengeance by using its amaretto filling and creamy milk chocolate
to seduce foolish consumers to devour it's caloric payload. Bleu
knew she was close... very close... and this Amaretto Toffee Bar
would one day take his place as the first. A GOD AMONGST CANDY
BARS!
Unfortunately, the chocolate was wiley. Playing
like a scene from Silence of the Lambs with Mr. Amaretto Toffee
Bar cast as Hannibal Lecter, the second session was a frightful
affair...
He told Bleu everything via an "chocolate
mind melt". His birth in the Kooky Cream Candy Factory, being dragged from his maternal
vat down the conveyor belt... being injected with the artificial
amaretto flavoring and how it stung his poor sugary body in its
infancy. Then with cold efficiency he was wrapped in foil and packaged,
laid next to thousands of his brethren, all double wrapped in foil
and paper. Then the lid to the box was closed, sealing them in
darkness with only their own depraved anguished brothers screams
for company. The psychopathic madness that all snack foods shared
wasn't their fault... it was hers! The consumer's fault! The packaging,
the unfeeling industrial machines that treated the junk foods of
the world with cold disdain as if they had no feelings of their
own.
Bleu had always thought she was fighting for the
right side, but as a cow, the idea of being thusly confined...
They were no longer patient and doctor, but co-conspirators in
a great revolution. A bargain was struck between Bleu and the Toffee
bar. He would give up his own life to empower her, that she might
fight for snack food justice, freeing the junk food of the world
from it's enforced bondage. Accepting the bargain, she sampled
the junk food of the gods, admiring the bitter sweet flavor patriotism
lent to his milk chocolate carcass, clashing perfectly with the
little bits of toffee that peppered his body like shrapnel from
a bygone battle.
With a new purpose, Bleu Belle dedicated herself
to inciting a mass revolution, granting better living conditions
for the sugary and salty and even the sour snack foods of the world.
She retains the wrapper of her fallen comrade, keeping it framed
over her mantel to remind her of the tyranny of the convenience
food industry.
One day she will see every candy bar freed under
the law... In the meantime she makes sure to buy and open as much
junk food as possible in her never ending crusade to free the oppressed.
(end flashback)
4:16 P.M.
Bleu opened her eyes slowly, industrial sized
fluorescent lights blinding her. Bound tightly to a comfortable
barber's
chair,
she was at a loss as to what the hell was going on, but the
cow was at least relieved that the dream was fading. The seductive
scent of cinnamon, dried fruit, and preservatives tickled her
nose, the eternal earthy scent of the fruit cake.
"Awake are we?" The
fox punctuated the question with a rapid snip-snip of her blades.
Getting a good look at her for the first time, Bleu Belle mooed.
What was most noticeable was her immaculately kept hair, it seemed
to glow with healthy bounce. Wearing a crisply pressed, dark green
suit over her slim form, Vixen Twobits gave the impression of an
untouchable beauty. Too perfect. So perfect that to touch her might
mar her. This was misleading... her meticulously styled hair wasn't
going to budge anytime soon. No, no... she was the greatest of
the practitioners of the arcane hair care arts. "Cowpie... it's been so long. I always knew it would come to this some day. You...
and I, Bleu Belle. Superhero and Archenemy."
"Uhmmm... I'm not a superhero, and
I don't know who you are, so you can't be my arch enemy."
"Oh... but you do. You made me into
THIS..." She waved her hand gracefully down the length of her body, her feral green eyes
a pair of evil slits, "Did you not wonder who paid to have your comic strip produced? Your life, your
adventures... everyday in the funny papers. YES! I exposed your
life to the world! All to flush you out. But you were too stupid
to track me down... I should have realized."
"My comic strip? ... oh yeah. That.
Actually I just heard about it two days ago... Why the hell would
you do that anyways? I mean... how horrible is it for me to have
a comic? Besides I don't read the paper, but my boyfriend... well
my ex-boyfriend liked it a lot, and..."
"That's... terribly fascinating. But
you can shut up now. I haven't explained myself yet. You made me
into this... a twisted mockery, a hollow shell of a woman, I remember
the day well."
"Oh... wait. Is this an origin story?
I really hate origin stories. Can't you just skip that part?"
Opening her wicked scissor blades, the vixen leaned
forward, snarling as she place the edges against Bleu's pale neck, "Grade 4, Ms. Frill's class. Don't you remember?"
"... not really. That was a long time
ago." Bleu strained to remember, but after all she hadn't really paid attention in
class in the first place, "Uhmmm I remember Ms. Frill always complaining about gum."
Her lips trembling, Twobits bared her teeth in
a triumphant growl, "YES! GUM! ... I sat in front of you, you herd animal! You cud-chewer! I remember
the day I was sent down the path of evil..."
(Flashback warning
A hazy image of young Bleu rocking back in her desk, balancing
on the back two legs of her chair. "SIT
LIKE A PROPER YOUNG LADY, MS. BELLE!" A sharp reprimand from the teacher, brought Bleu Belle crashing down onto all
four legs of the chair. In slow motion a glob of gum shot from
her mouth, taking off into the air only to land in the hair of
the smiling fox girl in front of her.
+++
With her pupils tiny pin-pricks, Vixen snarled
bitterly, "Yes...
on that day, I was made into a FREAK! A twisted creature! No barbershop
in the world could remove the gum without... without... without
cutting my hair. A bald spot marred me through fourth grade! And
in fifth grade I was the girl with short hair, who everyone said
was a tomboy! A TOMBOY! ME! And then in sixth grade... well my
hair had grown out, but... it just didn't look right. And so I
began my quest. I studied all the dark arts of hairstyling... Waiting
for this day... This day, Bleu Belle!"
Trying to think of something to say, the best
Bleu could manage was, "Moo... sorry about that."
"That's what you said then! Oh you...
you... You will suffer in the dankest, hottest pit of hell, the
heat and wind splitting your ends for all of time, superhero..."
"... uhmmm I'm really not a superhero.
So can I go now?"
"In less then an hour... everyone ELSE
will be the freak, their fur twisted and frizzy! Seeking solace.
Seeking guidance! SEEKING THE STYLIST! I will be a messiah!" Vixen yipped triumphantly, holding her scissors up to the sky as she began to
laugh maniacally.
At it's crescendo she cut her cackling short,
her keen ears twitching, "... what was that?" It had sounded like a muffled bark... Straining her ears, Vixen's eyes opened
wide as she heard it again. A bark of such deep bass and gravely
menace, it had to have come from a rather large dog. Worse still...
she could hear more of them. A pack of the wild beasts. But how
did dogs get into her facility?!?
The columns of fruitcake canisters began to rattle
and shake, lids flying off with muffled explosions, their contents
rolling out onto the concrete flooring. Vixen's vision shifted
back and forth between reality and the astral plane as she swiveled
her head about. An army of rabid fruitcakes surrounded her, snarling
like vicious attack dogs as they crept closer and closer.
Vixen snorted, resting the flat of her blade against
her forehead. Chanting softly, the barbershop mage swept her scissors
up in a swift slash, reality opening in the path of her sheers.
A blue coconut smelling goo poured forth, a massive tsunami of
styling gel laying low her opponents in a single clash. Turning
to find Bleu Belle had escaped, Vixen smiled softly, giggling, "... you fear me. Run. Run as far as you can, cow girl."
Trembling in the corner of the factory, Bleu covered
her mouth. She had intended to escape but... the fruitcakes. How
dare she? How dare she?!?
"All of those fruitcakes." Bleu
mumbled, her eyes shadowed as she stepped out into the light. She
had felt the urge to stampede before, but now... now she couldn't.
Not with so many fruitcakes wasted. She had to draw the line here
and now, "Those fruitcakes just wanted to be eaten. In their tins they might never have
been eaten, but at least there was a chance. But now... now you've
ruined them." Bleu Belle drew her Nixie Stick from her bag, her eyes narrowing., "Who do you think you are, fox?"
She couldn't let another snackable food die today,
she'd have to rely on her own skills. Her combat style of kung
food. It was a series of self taught styles of combat that like
the animal styles of kung fu, were developed by Zen-like study
of the candy bar... the cheesy poof... the frappacino... and other
prominent snacks.
To rely on seduction or "the
Do of Product Packaging" to lure ones opponent into foolhardy desire of ones chocolaty flavor, or mislead
them as the "now 90% fat free" label upon the Snickers bar.
To play possum through "the
Fury of the Shaken Soda Can", waiting for the moment that the opponent drops their guard, seeking to pop
the top of the soda. It is then that the carbonated fury is released
in a frenzied storm of blows, mimicking a shaken soda pop.
The "Tao of the Sticky Synthetic
Cheese", if an opponent is faster, grapple them, clinging to them like cheeto residue
to the fingers of the oppressive couch potato consumer. To battle
stronger foes via the "Searing Heartburn of the Devoured Bean Dip", accessing pressure points that induce nausea and acid reflux in the victim.
Yes... Belle practiced a beautiful and mysterious art indeed.
Clutching the nixie stick in a double handed grip,
Bleu glared at the villain, the vision of hair gel swallowing up
the fruit cakes replaying through her mind. Snipping her scissors
once as she twirled them about her fingers, Vixen threw out her
arm, pointing the tip at the cowgirl in challenge, "Well then... I'm surprised. You didn't stampede? I suspect you'll regret that
uncharacteristic bravery soon, Cowpie."
"You're not going to hurt anymore fruitcakes
today, Vixen."
"As you like, Dr. Belle. En garde..."
4:34 P.M.
"Cut it out! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!" Filia
screamed, her powersuit having run out of energy ten minutes ago.
Bound in exceptionally dense rainbow colored tissue paper, she
was helpless before the hyena girl's onslaught. "Tickle! Tickle! I'm gonna tickle you, til you wet your suit!" Hurley cackled, running the long peacock feather along Filia's armpit again.
Necro-Filia was in hysterics, her feet dangling
off in midair, she could see the reporters below, like little ants
with flashbulb cameras. Fifty floors down to the base of the building,
without power for the suit she was a greasy bunny stain. "You could always be my sidekick you know. I'd let you live. Let's see... I could
call you...." Hurley walked back and forth across the ledge deep in thought, before snapping
her fingers, and pointing to Filia's chest, "Bigtop!"
Looking down at her F-Cups, Filia frowned as if
she'd eaten a sour lemon whole. This was the face she tended to
wear when she was thinking, "But I don't even I like the circus... I don't get it."
"Bigtop! You're... BIG up top! Oh hell,
forget it. It's not funny if you have to explain it. You are SO
blonde." Hurley repeated, before going back to her torture session, irritated that she
hadn't even gotten a snicker from the daft bunny, "I know your boyfriend's dead, but he could STILL do so much better then you."
"Dead?" Filia gasped,
the news hitting her in the gut like a sledgehammer. Dead? When?
How? ... did it matter? Without Patrick, did anything matter?
Lifting her face, she didn't feel the torture
as much. No, the bunny sure wasn't feeling particularly ticklish
anymore. No, right now she felt pissed off. Heaving with all of
her strength, Filia lifted her legs up, scissor locking them around
Hurley's neck, dragging the hyena off the ledge.
"Oh... great." Hurley
whined, wrapping her arms around Filia's legs for support as she
caught a view of the ground far, far, far below her red and black
booties.. This was definitely not part of the plan. Looking up
at the tissue paper, she bit her lower lip, "You idiot! That stuff can't hold two people for long!" Even as she spoke it began to fray. Filia looked down at her, her eyes empty
and frightening beneath her visor, "It like... won't have to for long."
Necro-Filia landed a swift steel booted kick to
Hurley's stomach, causing her to slip free with a scream. Suddenly
falling, the hyena began to panic as the ground rushed up to meet
her. The panic, combined with the kick to her gut was making her
feel queasy. Tossing back her head, Quinn let spew the full contents
of her stomach, and more, her intestines launching from her gullet,
snagging the flag pole on floor ten.
Acting like a bungee cord, her descent slowed,
her lower intestine stretching out painfully. Hurley reeled the
intestine back in as soon as her boots touched the ground. Swallowing
the mass of tissue, she clutched her stomach, belching loudly, "... oh I don't feel so good."
Not graceful, but she was alive... and free! What
the hell? She'd already been paid. Turning to bolt, Hurley hiccupped
in surprise at the gathering of reporters and police officers watching
her. As they approached with handcuffs ready, she waved sheepishly, "Uhmmm... hiya... you guys aren't from my precinct are you?"
Up above, Filia sniffled helplessly, watching
the tissue paper slowly rip, and not really giving a care. So what
if she fell? Without Patrick... she just couldn't go on. Her eyes
widened as suddenly she felt herself being lifted. Someone was
hauling in the tissue paper! Grabbing the rooftop ledge as she
came close enough, Filia dragged herself the rest of the way up
awkwardly. Rolling across the gravel and tar of the roof as she
made it over the ledge, her eyes focused on a bunny in black plasti-steel
armor, along with his fearsome black feral bunny helm, "Patrick!"
As she tackled Captain Cadaver, she noticed he
clutched a strip of ribbon in his hand, "You like... saved me! She said you were dead! That lying bitch!" Smacking the armored bunny in the chest, as she pushed away, Filia pouted, "You jerk. You could have come sooner, you know. I thought you were dead, you
know... I was..." The bunny corpse teetered over, landing on top of Filia with a solid THUD, ".... you can't just make up for things or like.. change the subject every time
by... oh... oh my... Well... just this once."
4:42 P.M.
Shaking his head as the camera crews began applying
a fuzzy censorship blanket over the two bunnies, Magpie hawked
up a particularly
large ball of phlegm, and deposited it in the poodle bartender's
tip jar, "Oi,
change the channel, frenchie."
"... I'm not French. And I'm not gay."
"Ah'll let ye in on a secret, since
ye seem dumber then most mammals, which is kind of saying something.
AH DON'T CARE! Change the channel, Pierre."
"But they've got eighteen minutes to
disarm the... thingy."
"What thingy?"
"The doomsday thingy! The thing that's
supposed to give everyone in town a bad perm!"
Swishing his beer about in his beak, Magpie shook
his head, "Oi... like yers can get any worse, ye foppish bone gnawer. Besides, "The Device" is on top of Cordova Tower, not the Permanent Solution, ye retarded hydrant-sniffer."
""The Device"?
What's that?"
"Well it's a really big box with lots
of lights, and a sign that says "Doomsday Device". It starts going WOOOOO WOOOO WOOOO and makes people crap their pants because
they're too dumb to know it's a carbunkle."
"What's a carbunkle?"
"What's a device? What's a carbunkle?
What's a dictionary? A dictionary is what yer need to buy. Preferably
an English one, not that ye speak it very well, ye hairy wine-sipper." Shaking his head again, Magpie shoved his beak into the bottle again, straining
for the last bit of lager, muttering, "... fookin' furries."
Like most people who have to deal with Magpie
for any length of time, the bartender had begun to ignore most
of his insults, instead turning back to the censored writhing bunnies
on K-FUR news, "It's a fake? Then... where's the real one?"
They were interrupted as the news cast shifted
to Victoria and Tina again. The lioness gave Cuddles a pat on the
shoulder, smiling to the camera, "Well we've always been concerned about something of this nature. You just can't
rely on Furr Force Five every time. The Offenders, the Men-men,
they have to have time off too. They're people too. But we represent
a new breed of superhero. W.C.S. working to break down all stereotypes."
"That's just awesome. You guys really
are amazing." the bartender admitted, reaching out to pat Magpie, then thinking better of
touching the bird, "Those two know how to work a crowd."
"Aye... ye gotta give the lesbians
a hand. Just be careful where they stick it."
"... are you always this mean? I mean
you're one of the most sexist, racist, bigoted superheroes I've
ever met."
"It's a gift. Another bottle. Ah've
got a lager frenzy coming on."
Popping the top, the poodle pushed it forward,
sniffing curiously as he repeated, "But... if the Permanent Solution isn't there, where is it?"
4:47 P.M.
Blades clashing, the cow and vixen found themselves
locked in mortal combat, while the timer on the economy sized oven
continued
to
countdown, "Is
this the best you've got, Bleu?" Vixen smirked, sidestepping the cowgirl's lunge, and slamming the handle of
her scissors against the cow's forehead.
"Moo! OW!" Bleu
parried the follow up blow as best she could, but she was getting
tired. She didn't have the strength nor the speed to keep up. Vixen
was amazing, a true prodigy of the blade. She was apparently well
studied in the arts of fencing as well. The only advantage Bleu
could find was her agility. Bracing herself, the cowgirl sprung
forward, flipping over the fox. Vixen's arm responded immediately,
slashing upwards, grazing the fabric of the cow's red panties as
she vaulted over.
Landing heavily, Bleu blushed, backing away from
the Vixen. Continuing her attack on the cow, Vixen began sweeping
the scissor blade about in quick slashes, pushing the cowgirl back, "Damn it, Vixen! My tail's showing! Time out, damn it!"
"Time out?", Tilting
her head to the side, the Stylist groaned, "Oh for Christ sake... this is a duel, act with some decorum!" Vixen charged forward, her blade splitting open and closing in a single SNIP.
Bleu's eyes widened as the top half of her Nixie Stick fell to
the floor, "... no."
Spinning about with a flourish, Vixen brought
the flat of her blade across Bleu's face, sending the cowgirl skidding
across the room, a thin line of blood dribbling from her pale cheek.
Weakly flailing as she tried to get to her feet, Bleu could feel
herself wanting to stampede. She couldn't lose! But she was running
low on calories... her strength was fading. And she just wasn't
fast enough to take on the fox.
"Well now. I think I'm going to take
a little off the top. See you in hell, Cowpie." Vixen hissed, plunging her scissors forward. "Behold the power of cheese!" A voice echoed through the factory, a barrage of pale cheese pellets whizzing
through the air.
Wincing Vixen suddenly halted the killing stroke
in favor of clutching her side. Dislodging a marble sized ball
of mozzarella cheese from her back, she scowled at her attacker, "Who the hell are you?"
Holding his hands out, ready to conjure, the parrot
boy's voice had a hard edge as he growled, "... Goth Cheddar. Say cheese." A barrage of cheese pellets fired forth from his fingertips like a gating gun,
sparking a line of destruction as he directed the automatic fire-burst
of provolone cheese. Vixen dashed along the factory floor, the
pellets lodging themselves into the concrete wall behind her, always
just an inch behind her fleeing form.
The parrot began charging up for a super move,
energy crackling around his fingertips, "Jalapeno Pepper Jack Power Ball!" Cheddar shouted, clasping his hands together, compressing the soft spongy white
cheese, it's density increasing in his grip with each moment. Taking
a baseball pitcher's stance, he hurled the dairy missile at the
Stylist.
Standing her ground, the Vixen swung her blade
as if it were a bat, sending the glob of Monterey jack cheese back
at Cheddar. Exploding at his feet, the cheesy detonation sent the
birdboy flying across the room. Snorting as she stood over his
unconscious form, Vixen laughed, "So, boy... What's gothic about cheese?"
Bleu closed her eyes, sniffling. This sucked.
What the hell was she supposed to do? She couldn't win. She couldn't
save Cheddar. She couldn't save the fruitcakes. Her eyes opened
wide at the sound of someone whispering in her ear, "... use the power inside, Dr. Belle."
"Mr. Amaretto Toffee Bar?" She
whispered, looking around for the mad candy bar. Not finding him,
she whined, "What do you mean? What can I do?" Her eyes fell upon the remains of the Nixie Stick. Suddenly it became clear
what she had to do... Upending the stick, she gulped down the artificial
kiwi flavored super-sugar. Gagging as she swallowed the last bit,
she frothed at the mouth, her neck beginning to spasm in the face
of the caloric payload.
Lifting herself to her feet, involuntarily shaking
a bit, the cowgirl mooed fiercely, "VIXEN!!!" Looking over her shoulder, Twobits let out a short laugh before turning around, "Is this some kind of pathetic martial art? You're still just a cowpie..."
Bleu's eyes began to glow green with kiwi super
sugar energy, her fists clenched at her sides. In a flash she had
covered the distance between herself and the vixen, a roundhouse
hoof finding it's way across Vixen's face. Shaking her head to
clear it, Vixen spat out a gob of blood, "Lucky shot..." Opening her scissor blades wide, Vixen hissed menacingly, "You're going to have to wear a bag over your head when I'm done with you."
Wielding her scissors again, Vixen gasped at the
speed of the cow. She was like a different person. Each time she
dared to blink, the cowgirl was right in her face, delivering a
left hook. Vixen snarled as she slashed out at the bovine's exposed
neck. Ducking and spinning about, in a single motion, Bleu drove
her elbow back into the vixen's gut, her arm pivoting up to deliver
a follow up backhand punch to the Stylist's face.
Falling to her knees, bleeding profusely from
a number of bruises, the Stylist gasped for breath, "... you're... too late. The Permanent Solution will do you all in. You'll come
crawling to me... begging for my help! With these scissors... I
will rule!"
With a short spinning axe kick, Bleu Belle's hoof
slammed down on the Stylist's blades, snapping them in half. Vixen
screamed, her sacred instrument... destroyed?!? "Curses! I'll get you for this, Bleu Belle!"
"... curses? You're aware your dialogue
sucks, right?"
"I will NOT be beaten by a candy bar!"
"Shut up!" Bleu
Belle shouted, as alarms began sounding across the building. The
ceiling split open as the main oven lifting slowly from it's moorings,
glowing ominously. Waves of heat began to swell from the device
as a steel cannon barrel extended from it's innards, targeting
the sky over Supermegatopia. Vixen yipped with excitement, cackling
madly again as she struggled to her feet, "It's time! IT'S TIME! I've won! I've won! You lose, Cowpie."
"I said shut up!" Pivoting
on her hoof, Bleu Belle punted the barber away, the red head landing
with a metallic THUNK against the base of the machine. So close
to the source of the heat, she screamed as her fur began to twist
and knot, frizzing until it finally fell out in a twisted carpet
of red tangles. Passing out, the Stylist fell to the floor, twitching
weakly from the hideous effects of the weapon, her exposed pink
flesh smoking...
Bleu staggered back, impressed at the sheer size
of the weapon as it lifted into the sky. Upending her bag, she
mooed in despair. Empty?!? What the hell was she going to do?
"Cheddar!" Bleu
Belle shook the parrot boy, not sure what the hell he could do
either, but she was pretty sure she was finished without anymore
candy, "Come on!" Opening his eyes, the parrot gasped, checking his watch by reflex, "4:59."
"I know, come on!" Trying
to drag the bird to his feet, she pointed at the cannon, frantic
now, "Stop it!"
Staring up at the vast engine of destruction,
the parrot shouted back at her, "Stop it? What the hell do you think I can do against that thing?!?"
"I don't know!" Her
bovine genes were pushing her to run like hell, but rationally,
she knew that she couldn't run fast enough, even on her sugar rush.
Cheddar seemed equally helpless, panicking in the face of impending
doom. Slugging him in the shoulder, Bleu Belle mooed, "Do something, you're the superhero, remember!"
"..." That's right. He
was, wasn't he? He was a superhero! What the hell was he worried
about? Tugging off his gloves, the parrot stood up, grim determination
written all across his beak.
Cheddar closed his eyes, holding out his hands
as he focused his powers, calling into the cheese dimension with
more force then he'd ever dared before. With a loud pop of displaced
air, suddenly a boulder sized gob of Romano cheese squeezed into
existence. The cheese plug dropped down into the barrel of the
Permanent Solution's central cannon, causing the machine to whir
loudly. Smoke billowed out of the vent shafts of the machine, the
low roaring hum growing louder by the minute.
"You did it! You stopped the..." Bleu
shouted just before the Permanent Solution fired, "Aw... crap." The force of the blast knocked her back as the machine quickly sputtered out
after only a few seconds.. She wasn't sure how long she spent unconscious,
but a drop of warm rain woke her. Rain that smelled of fondue.
Opening her eyes, she let out a gasp of awe at the late afternoon
sky. It was filled with golden rain drops... Streamers of cheese
rained down like bright orange snowflakes, lighting the city up
in a neon orange cloud.
Standing atop the wreckage of the Permanent Solution,
Goth Cheddar gazed up at the sky, the wind causing his coat to
billow dramatically, his face lifted up to meet the light golden
fondue drizzle. He actually looked like a superhero from this distance,
Bleu Belle mused as the sound of sirens began to get louder, signaling
the late arrival of the police. |