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Worst Case Scenario: "The Permanent Solution"
by Magpie -- Prelude | Act One | Act Two | Act Three | Act Four | Act Five | Act Six Act Four: Fruit Cakes... A Publicist's Pipe-Dream, and a Call to Arms The Cordova Tower. It lurked within the heart of the city, one of the most infamous structures in the downtown area. Indeed most everyone in SuperMegatopia had seen it, and could recognize it. A towering black skyscraper, it ascended into the clouds, it's every curve, it's every arch designed for some nefarious purpose. Again, that is to say "some nefarious purpose", because no one was quite sure what the hell the building was for. It was known to belong to Ratchet Cordova, the infamous Reverse-Psychologist, but past that... perhaps it was an evil lair in which the most wanted villains plotted the most insidious of schemes, or a facility working upon the ultimate doomsday device, or a missile silo packed to the brim with atomic weaponry. But no... Cordova Tower served a much more insidious purpose, one that only the master of Reverse-Psychology could properly put to use... It did absolutely nothing. The Cordova Tower's only true purpose was to stand out like a beacon to the superheroes of the city, it's architecture such that it oozed evil intent. The Brinkly Brothers Fruit Cake Processing Plant. It lurked just to the left of the heart of the city, one of the most ignored structures in the downtown area. Indeed most everyone in Supermegatopia had seen it. A small white facility, it was quietly ignored and reviled. None ever entered it's friendly yellow doors, after all, who the hell ate Fruit Cake? Within the inner sanctum however... a more sinister purpose was shrouded. (yes, more sinister then fruit cake production) An industrial setting, the inner sanctum was a large room, dominated by an impressive monitor on the eastern wall, and numerous consoles each, filled with impressive flashing lights and little beep-beeps. And in the center, was the evil genius who had designed them, Ratchet Cordova. Dressed in her itchy polyester uniform, Ratchet looked like nothing so much as a nazi commander, complete with baggy riding pants stuffed into knee high boots, and skull insignia cap (Though she had elected for the entire ensemble to be done in shades of pink). Ratchet clicked her jackboots together, snapping out a smart salute as the video screen came to life, revealing the evil, angular foxish face of ... the Stylist. "Ms. Twobits... The Permanent Solution is now complete. We've moved "the device" to the top of Cordova Tower, and are awaiting instructions." "Good... I will go public in ten minutes. I wa..." The vixen stopped mid-sentence, and looked about the control room, her ears twitching irritably as she realized she had apparently lost a henchman somewhere, "Where the hell is Magpie?" "I sent Hurley Quinn ahead to guard the device." Ratchet replied, saluting Vixen once again with flare. The well kept fox sighed, repeating the question, "Magpie. Where the hell is he?" "I told you, Ms. Twobits. Hurley Quinn was sent ahead to guard the device." "I'm talking about Magpie! I want to know, where the hell is Magpie?" "Do you really?" "What?" "Do you really want to know that? ... what is it that's really bothering you? It's Hurley Quinn. She's unstable! A loose cannon! A wild card! I know... I know... you don't have to walk on eggshells with me, I'm your second in command. I know she's trouble, and thusly I am keeping an eye on her at all times." Vixen nodded in turn to each of the statements. Hurley Quinn was nothing but trouble. Thankfully Ratchet was keeping tabs on her. With Ratchet on the job, there really was no need to worry. So what if Magpie was missing? He'd show up e... It was at this point that a thought occurred to Vixen, "... are you using your powers on me?" With a shocked, somewhat hurt look on her face, the stricken lemur girl replied softly, "Why would I do that?" "... YOU ARE! You're not answering any of my questions, Ratchet!" " What questions?" "The Magpie questions! Where is he?" Looking over her shoulder as something began banging from the inside of her locker, Ratchet turned back, shaking her head, "Where do you think he is?" The cool, detached occult mastermind lifted the camera off of her desk so she could growl directly into it, "If I knew, why would I ask?" Responding in the same blasé analytical tone, the lemur asked her commander, "... I don't know, why would you?" The beautiful young occultist dropped back in her chair, giving in finally, "Alright... have your fun. Patch me through to all the stations now. I want to address my city. Make sure Magpie finds his way back before lunchtime. The tower is going to be crawling with wannabe heroes..." With a final salute, followed by a bow, Ratchet replied with a smile, "Yes, ma'am." Switching off the screen, Ratchet powered up the signal jammer. Across the city television programs already in progress were interrupted in unison as Vixen Twobits took control of the airwaves. "People of Supermegatopia... I am Vixen Twobits, the Stylist... I wi *click*" Ratchet switched off her television, not really interested in watching. Her work done for the next couple of hours, she slinked over to the lockers, knocking gently on the door, "How are we doing in there?" Muffled by a hood, the scottish scavenger shout back out at her, "Let me out, ye daffy stalker fook'! Every time ah deal with frickin' mammals this happens. Ah can't help it there aren't any real men out there on fur side, but... let's be frank here, ye trout, this inn't like marrying out of yer class, there are laws of physics involved here. Oi! This is frowned upon by most major religions... oi, are ye going to let me out or wot?" "I'm changing... just a moment." "Changing?" Now that he closed his beak for a moment, he could indeed hear the rustle of clothing from outside the locker. "Ach... forced to become a breeder. Well, there are worse ways to go ah sposed." "I'm trying to share something personal with you here, stop being nasty." "How would ye be after being locked in a small cell fer hours on end?" "You've only been in there fifteen minutes!" "Ah'd know that if ah could see mah watch, but someone tied me up, didn't they?" "Well... you can tie me up next time." Ratchet suggested as she fumbled for the key to the locker door, "You know... as a little girl, I always had problems fitting in. Most people are so prejudiced against us. No one ever tried to get to know the real me... so one day, I decided I'd just always be someone else. I'd be contrary to everyone and everything... and that's how I became a super villain. And also how I became a lemur." "... bugger." Magpie muttered as the door was opened, a slim hand removing his hood. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he almost swallowed his tongue at the sight that awaited him, "Ach..." Ratchet pouted, her shapely figure clad in only a long t-shirt, that hugged tightly to her hips, "What's that supposed to mean?" Her tail swished irritably now that it was exposed, bushy and black with a pair of white stripes down the length of it. Putting two and two together, Magpie bellowed, "Yer not a lemur! Yer a fookin' skunk!" "Oh, that..." Ratchet giggled as she began blushing at the observation, "Well a girl has to have her secrets! Kids can be so mean... no one ever wants to get to know the skunk girl very well because she might musk them... it's like being stigmatized, you know?" "Right... I totally understand and am a richer bird for it, or some crap like that, what? ...ermmm, now that we've had this heart to heart, yer going to untie me, aye?" "No, I like the ropes." She insisted, squeezing into the locker herself, and shutting the door behind them, "ACH! Watch it! Hey! No biting, ye rabid goiter! Oi! No snogging on the first date, ye... what do ye think yer doing with those? Put down those knickers, girl! Ah'll *mumph*" "Shhhh... You know, my parents are going to love you." At the Tull residence... Turning off the television, Barnaby popped another pain killer into his mouth. An idea was forming, and he was fairly certain it was a brilliant one. An idea that would make his career and establish him as one of the greatest publicists in the annuls of history. Yes, it was one hell of an idea... His fondest wish was that the fact he was rather over medicated wasn't effecting his judgment. But no... this was his destiny. Digging out his little black book, he took a deep breath before reaching for the phone. Making a few calls, he made up the details on the fly, painting a picture for each news anchor in turn. "I know Buxom Gal is off planet. It doesn't matter. The city police are bringing in the W.C.S. ... what do you mean you don't know who they are? They're a secret organization of undercover superheroes, set aside for catastrophes of this nature, the Worst Case Scenario. No they aren't affiliated with Furr Force Five. Yes, there are a few who are single, and none are currently represented for action figures or any other endorsements... yet." Meanwhile at Cheddar's home... The previous night had been beyond explanation... a night of unbridled passion, trite though it sounded. It was frightening, the aphrodisiac quality of a near death experience. Utterly overwhelmed by the cow girl's frenzied bovine lust, Cheddar wondered if perhaps this was what it was like to be a rodeo cowboy, as he tried his damnedest not to be thrown... yes... it was a night to remember. Unfortunately it ended all too quickly, the coming dawn inevitable. And with it... Bleu began to regain her composure... and she also remembered that her parrot paramour lived with his parents. Thusly, it was eleven o'clock when the cow girl found herself at the breakfast table, sitting across from a pair of middle aged parrots, waiting for the coming storm of questions that all parents had for their children's dates. Bleu sipped nervously at her coffee, taking a petite bite of toast as her every move was tracked by Cheddar's mother. Perhaps it would have been better if they HADN'T gone back to his place, but she quite simply had forgotten he lived with his parents. The silence was appalling, and the only one who seemed oblivious to it was the parrot boy. The sound of his knife as he spread butter across the surface of a toasted bagel was deafening. *scrape scrape scrape* Finally the silence was broken as mother took a sip from her coffee, and began her interrogation of the suspect, "So... what is it you do, Ms. Belle?" "Oh, Dr. Belle actually, I'm a dietary scientist. I try to keep track of..." Mother interrupted her explanation with an astonished whistle, "A doctor? How old are you?" " Uhmmm... 26." Bleu replied, flustered by the suspicious tone of the mother parrot. Apparently the walls in the house weren't as sound proofed as Cheddar seemed to think... Looking over to the father for help, she mooed at the sight of him giving his son a thumbs up. "26? ..." Cheddar's mother began to twitch, her head slumping into her arms as she passed out. Bleu hopped out of her chair, shaking the middle age parrot, "Is she okay? Cheddar!" Father and son continued to eat their breakfast as if nothing had happened, while Bleu tried frantically to revive the unconscious parrot, "Cheddar!" "Hrmmm? Oh. Mom's a Norwegian blue. Don't worry about it." "... a Norwegian blue?" "They stun easily... beautiful plumage, though." Cheddar explained, taking a bite of his bagel. "STUNNED? I think she might be dead!" Bleu exclaimed at the exact moment mother chose to wake up, and begin eating her own breakfast, repeating as if nothing had happened, "26... that's a little old for you, Cheddar." "I always did like mammals, myself. I mean, your mother's the only gal for me, of course..." Cheddar's pop was quick to add as his wife began glaring at him, her plumage standing up in jagged spikes, "But there's a lot to be said for mammary glands..." The father conceded, whistling cheerfully as he slapped his son on the back. "It's not her mammary glands, dad. I like her. She's smart, funny..." "She's four years older then you." His mother added as if Bleu wasn't there. Which was just fine with Bleu! The cowgirl was relieved as Cheddar's phone rang, interrupting the conversation before it could progress any further. Catching only one part of the conversation, Bleu's ears perked up curiously as she eavesdropped. "Filia? Yes, I'm up. The news? No..." Cheddar got up from his chair suddenly, smiling at something he'd heard, "A super villain? A real super villain? Yes! I'd love to! Okay, I'll meet you there. Alright... Bye!" With all eyes on him, Goth Cheddar shoved the remains of his breakfast down his beak, before explaining, "You can stay with Mom and Pop, Bleu. It's big. A super villain is threatening to use a doomsday device on the entire city, and we're the only hope!" "We? You mean Filia?" Bleu mooed, standing up from the breakfast table herself. The Parents followed the unfolding drama, watching quietly as she chased after Cheddar, "This sounds like a suicide mission, Cheddar." "What? Bleu... they're my team. I know they seem kind of inexperienced, but..." "But what? One of them is already dead! How competent can they be?" Goth Cheddar tried to think of something to say in their defense, unfortunately, she was right. They were pretty damned incompetent... But that's why they needed him! This was important! The fate of the city rested on the outcome of this battle! "... well. I still have to go, Bleu." Mooing, Bleu could already see the parrot boy had made up his mind, and while cows were stubborn creatures by nature, she knew Cheddar was a remarkably thick headed parrot. Giving in, she reached for her overnight bag, "Then I'm going too!" "You're not a superhero!" "I know! I just... I'm not sitting around with your mother, wondering if you're alright." "You're that concerned about my safety?" "Uhmm yes." Bleu agreed, sorry to admit to herself that actually she was more concerned with getting out of the bird house, before Cheddar's mom started up the interrogation again. "Alright... let's go then. We could use the Nutrasweet Ninja on our side!" "Please don't call me that." "Bovine Brawler?" "I'm going to kick you..." "When ARE you going to get a super identity?" "Never! I'm not a superhero, damn it..." The conversation continued as they left, the door slamming behind the two, leaving Cheddar's parents alone to discuss matters, "Well she seemed nice." "Nice? She's a cow..." "Honey, Cheddar likes her, and that's all that's important." "... what do you think the grandkids will look like?" At the Museum... Waking up in the Titan suit, Victoria had found that she had the most god awful crick in her spine from the night's ordeal. But it was a success, the android porcupine still on the scene, attached rather tenaciously to the Titan's massive forearm. It had taken almost ten minutes of cajoling the android to get Cuddles to pry her fingers from the Titan's armor. Since that time however, all that Cuddles talked about was Tim Curry. Which was alright with Victoria, who had stopped listening to what the porcupine was saying a half an hour ago. The lioness had instead begun admiring her petite athletic build, most especially noting the contrasts with Mignon's voluptuous bovine frame. "And that's his definitive work as Dr. Frankfurter in Rocky Horror Picture show." "That's fascinating..." Victoria agreed enthusiastically, as she began playing with the Titan's on board visual editing software, trying unsuccessfully to get the suit's x-ray vision to kick in. "Do you get out much?" "Not really, I was in prison for most of my life..." "Oh my!" Prison... Mignon had always had her team of lawyers at her beck and call to keep her out of the slammer. But having seen numerous television shows and movies on the subject, Victoria had a plethora of romantic jail house fantasies, "Is it really like they say in prison? You know... were you someone's bitch?" Tina's eyes opened wide with shock, not really sure what the question meant. But she knew that was definitely a "brown word", "Someone's... what?" "Did the women there... how can I put it delicately?" "I don't know. How can you, Ms. Titan?" "... I believe that I would like to have dinner with you. Do you have anything nice for evening wear?" "Evening wear?" There was an audible sound, similar to an old laserdisc player warming up as the gears in Tina's head turned, processing... processing... Finally, her eyes lit up as she smiled broadly, asking, "You mean pajamas? I usually just sleep in my undies, Ms. Titan!" "How quaintly blue collar, but I meant do you have a nice dress?" "Uh huh! I'm wearing it." She pointed to the tattered remains of her prison uniform, which combined with the fire damage, the battle last night, and her own quills, it was a ragged mess. "... we'll go shopping later. You know, Tina... I have a feeling that we haven't a thing in common." "Is that bad?" A blank slate... a perfect, beautiful, cheerful, empty-headed pet that Victoria could mold into the toast of high society, while at the same time taking advantage of her lower class naivety! Oh it was too good to be true... "I suppose it's not a bad thing at all, if you're a quick study." Tina giggled, glomping onto the Titan's leg again, managing to dent the plating with her affectionate embrace, "You talk funny..." "..." Then again, maybe this was going to be a harder "fixer-upper" project then the lioness had counted on, "Now, Tina... what did we discuss?" Tina pouted, remembering the lecture she'd been given before they'd gotten to talk about Tim Curry again, "... no hugging anyone unless you say so." "Good girl. I promise, I'll get you Tim Curry's autograph if you behave." "Can I hug it?" "... why can't I date anyone who isn't in therapy?"
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