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Worst Case Scenario Part Two: "The Intermission"
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
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