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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 Three: Breakfast of Champions with a Side of Bunny Revenge Followed by After Dinner Scandal Timmy was bored. In fact, he was as bored today as he'd ever been on any other day in his entire twelve years of life... Yeah, Sunday was always a bad day for him... It was bad enough that his mother woke him up at seven o'clock on Sunday, and made him go to breakfast with his grandparents. But then she always insisted on sitting around for an hour reading the paper and sipping coffee at the diner afterwards. He tried to behave, truly he did, struggling against the impulse to cause trouble. But at twelve years old, after sitting around with his grandparents, and missing his Sunday cartoons, it was simply a losing battle. With a furtive glance at his mum, he held his breath, slowly sliding out of the booth. Crawling on his hands and knees, as if through the trenches of a great battlefield, he stealthily crept along the dirty floor until he had put what he judged to be sufficient distance between himself and his mother's view. It was a small victory, but a victory none the less. Now he just had to find something to do. This was easier said then done. That was the terrible thing about diner's... they never had any video games for some strange reason. Dashing along the booths, Timmy desperately searched for another distressed child, who he might talk into abandoning THEIR parents so they could play around a bit. After a few minutes searching, Timmy realized only HIS mother was so cruel as to drag a poor little boy away from his bed and his cartoons, so she could drink coffee and pray. With a heavy heart and slumped shoulders, Timmy began to return to his chair... when fortune smiled. Sitting alone in a booth was a small black doll. Now Timmy knew dolls were for girls, but this was one cool doll. A black, filthy, knotted thing, it's gnarled form vaguely looked like a sock monkey... except Timmy had never seen a sock monkey with claws. Some poor kid probably forgot it, he realized, and he couldn't help feeling bad for them. However he did not feel so bad that he wasn't going to grab the sock monkey for himself... Looking over his shoulder, Timmy reached out a paw cautiously. The monkey's button eyes glistened, tempting him closer... closer... When he had almost touched the grungy thing, Timmy hesitated. Was it breathing? No way. It couldn't be. Just another inch, and he'd have it... It was then that the monkey suddenly lifted it's claws, grabbing onto the bottom of its hairy maw. Stretching its mouth open wider then should have been possible, it pounced on the startled little boy with an unearthly snarl. Vixen Twobits returned from the lavatory, taking time out of her evil designs to enjoy a Denver omelette. Shag whistled innocently as the fox took her seat, demurely crossing her legs while she waited, "The first move has been made. Two more to go." The sock monkey nodded in response, his cheeks distended for a moment before he swallowed, "I can get you the second hair sample..." "No, Hurley Quinn will take care of her. I have something else in mind for you. The divination informed me of three base hair types I would need after the... fallout. The Warrior Princess, the Widow, and... the Crusader. I called you here for the purpose of dealing with the third..." Vixen stopped speaking as a dog woman came to their table, her tail wagging nervously as she interrupted, "I'm sorry, but have you seen a little pup? His name is Timmy." Vixen looked over at Shag, who had begun playing dead again, his button eyes staring up at the ceiling innocently. Noticing a single red sneaker on the floor, Twobits shook her head, "No... I haven't seen him, sorry." The dog woman moved on to the next table, leaving Vixen to glare at her familiar, "You idiot..." Shag didn't seem to care one way or the other if she was upset, instead reaching for the paper. Tapping a claw on the cover story, the monkey snickered, "What the hell is a serial hugger?" Vixen snatched the paper away from the infernal doll, reading the headline aloud, "Cuddles, the Snugglebug Escapes Asylum. Fourteen Victims in Body casts..." Flipping through the paper, the Stylist scanned it until she came to the comics section, "Focus on the job at hand... this is your target, Shag." Reading over the comic strip, Shag chortled, "... a cow? Is she going to graze me to death?" "Don't be so cocky, Shag. I've planned this too carefully to have it ruined by you. Buxom Gal has been called away to the moon, Furr Force Five is on their publicity campaign, the Offenders are on vacation, and this is the time of year when the city is at it's most vulnerable. But don't underestimate the second stringers. They... do you smell that?" Vixen Twobits' sensative nose twitched, recoiling as the scent utterly overwhelmed her sense of smell, which tried in vain to categorize the source of the stench. The closest approximation she could come up with before her sinuses clogged themselves in a desperate bid to save her nostrils, was that perhaps someone had burnt a three year old tuna and egg salad sandwich... The sound of gargling snot drew her attention to the tiny bird that had taken up residence at her feet, a black cigar almost as big as he was clamped in his beak. Hacking up a greasy yellow splotch, which he spat out on the semi-clean white floor, the bird peered up at Vixen, "Ach, scoot over already, Red." Hurley Quinn remained a few steps in back of him, trying not to touch the grungy Scot. Magpie lifted himself up on the tabletop with a single flap of his grimy wings, causing the villains gathered to gag as he stirred up the unholy stench. Hurley tossed an envelope to Vixen as she took her seat, whining, "I want to discuss my wages! I make more at the police station. And working with that bird qualifies for hazard pay." The waitress stopped by the table, the bear smiling a plastic little grin for the benefit of her customers, "Hello! Welcome to South Side Diner! I'll be your waitress, my name is..." "Oi, ye been hibernating back there? Bout bloody time. Ah need two eggs over easy and coffee..." Magpie interrupted the teenage waitress, impatiently glaring at Vixen while she examined the contents of the envelope. Giving the young bear a withering look, Magpie grunted, "And don't spit in the coffee, ye fookin' trout-fisher." "I'll take a hot chocolate, thanks!" Hurley added, leaning forward slowly, her wild eyes taking on a crazed glint, "And don't skimp on the whip cream..." Retreating at a brisk pace, the waitress vanished into the kitchen quickly. Hurley mused quietly for a moment as a thought occurred to her, "Eggs? You're eating eggs?" "Well, he is Scottish.", Shag piped up as he crawled into Hurley's lap. Magpie spat his cigar out onto the floor, muttering, "I'll kick ye in yer eggs, ye hairy bastard." Giving the freakish little knot monkey an experimental poke, Hurley laughed, "I used to have a doll just like him!" "Ach, why does that not surprise meh, bozo?" Reaching for her small caliber pie revolver by reflex, Hurley cocked the bright pink weapon as she drew it from her longcoat. Magpie's coat billowed open, a small noxious green battle aura surrounding him as the two faced off. Dropping the envelope on the table with a heavy slap, Vixen clapped her hands, "Well done. I'll include a bonus for this job. Now as for Phase Two..." "Ah'm not working with the party clown!" "Can I pie him if he calls me that again?" Hurley added, the itch that had settled over her trigger finger growing worse by the second. The bird had to die! A point blank single serving cherry pie would be enough to vaporize someone as small as Magpie. The bird sneered at her, shouting, "Party clown! Party clown!" "Can I shoot him? Can I shoot him?" "Party Clown! Party Clown! Party Clown!" Banging her fist on the table causing the room to tremble with the force of her arcane rage, Vixen gritted her teeth as the two villains fell silent, "As I was saying... For Phase two, you will be working separately." "KEEN!" Hurley cackled maniacally at the news, holstering her hot pink revolver. Magpie was less positive, picking up his twisted black cigar from the floor so he could gnaw on it, but then he was never happy. "Magpie... you will be working with Ms. Ratchet. She is currently working on a vastly complex machine that will bring the city to it's knees, and your skills are wasted using you as a foot soldier. Ms. Quinn... you on the other hand I would like to subdue the second hair sample we'll need for the machine. It will be much the same as your last assignment." "You mean you want me to break in someone's house, not steal anything, and just... cut off some of their hair?" Hurley pouted, not sure why this bothered her so much. There was something just WRONG about breaking in, and NOT taking anything. It seemed almost... rude! "I mean, if you broke into my house, and didn't steal anything... well I'd stay up all night wondering "What's wrong with my stuff?" or "Have I got that bad of taste?". It's just POLITE for you to take a few things! It's the right thing to do!" Vixen rubbed her head, having made the mistake of trying to understand Hurley Quinn's logic. "If you want to steal something, fine. Just be sure to get the hair as well!" "Okie dokie!" Vixen jotted down the address of Hurley's target, before sliding the card to the hyena, "Now... I think you two should be on your way." "But ah haven't gotten me eggs..." Come Nightfall at the Tull Residence... "I've got to go! Like... it's my karma! I have to avenge my father! Right?" Filia paced back and forth across her parent's driveway, her black and white pleated skirt freshly pressed, atop her powersuit. Captain Cadaver leaned against the garage door, remaining silent to allow Filia to work things out for herself. He was always good about that kind of thing. He never tried to sway her with his opinion, letting her make her own choices. True, as a taxidermied corpse he didn't have much of an opinion, but at least he knew when to keep his mouth shut. It wasn't really a question, she had to get revenge! But... well she'd never actually FOUGHT a super villain before. Filia wasn't sure she could DO it! Especially someone so mean they could beat her dad. Raising her tiny fists into the air, she ranted, "Yeah, I like have to! I'm Necro-Filia! Who cares if it means I have to fight! That's what being a superhero is all about! I'll get her for killing dad!" Lighting a cigarette, her father stepped out of the house, nursing his scotch as the sun set. What a day... Maybe he should drop Victoria as a client. She seemed to attract trouble. And in this city there was plenty of work for "the publicist". Adjusting the small bandage on his head, he noticed Filia and Patrick on the driveway. Barnaby called out to them, waving to the two, "Hi sweetie. You going out tonight?" "Hey dad! Yeah, I'm like going to avenge your death." "Honey bunny, I'm not dead, remember? I just have a mild concussion. I explained it to you in the car... twice?" "Oh yeah. Well still, I'll get that Hurley bimbo for what she did... I swear it!" Filia proclaimed boldly, shaking her gauntleted fist for emphasis. Barnaby sipped at his scotch thoughtfully, before trying to explain, "Sweetie, I told you already, Hurley Quinn attacked my client. Magpie was the one who knocked me out..." Sometimes he wondered what happened. He wasn't the brightest of bunnies, and he was the first to admit it... But Filia... sometimes he wondered if his wife had dropped the baby on her head and not told him about it. "That clown is gonna pay!" Apparently she was still not listening... Filia wrapped her arms around Patrick's waist, "Come on Patrick... we'll call Cheddar on the way! We'll be back before ten, pop!" Clicking her heels together, her thrust jets activated, lifting the deadly duo into the air slowly. Barnaby rested his icy beverage against his bandaged forehead. Yes sir, sometimes he wondered just where he went wrong with her. Barnaby watched Filia as she descended again almost immediately as something came to her attention, "Oh... uhmmm like where would Hurley Quinn be anyways?" Barnaby sighed, reaching out to pat Filia's helmet gently, "Honey pie, I told you before... part of being a superhero is detective work. You have to use your brain. Follow the clues. Check up on leads. The villains don't just come to your doorstep, and shout "here I am"!" At this time a red and black motorcycle rounded the corner, coming to a squealing halt in front of the Tull residence. Leaving dark purple skid marks along the drive-way, smoke shrouded the biker for a moment, though her high pitched cackle was infamous amongst superheroes everywhere. Hurley Quinn threw her leg over the side of the bike as she pushed back a pair of aviators goggles, shouting at the rabbits, "Here I am!" Barnaby scratched his head, not sure what to say about this rather convenient development, mumbling "... well I'll be damned." "Patrick... stay out of this. I have to do this myself." Filia's face took on a stern look of concentration as she stepped down the length of the driveway. Captain Cadaver began to wobble without her support, crashing down against the pavement with a heavy thump. Not noticing, Filia clenched her fist, feeding power into her armored suit, "I'm going to avenge my father, you... you... uhmmm... villain." "Your father? What did I do to your father?" Hurley tilted her head to the side, causing the bells atop her head to ring merrily. Barnaby shouted from the top of the drive, "Nothing, Ms. Quinn. Just let my sweetie talk." Hurley wasn't sure what they were getting ready to fight about, yet she WAS quite sure they WERE going to be fighting... and that was a start. Deciding not to argue with the bunny, Hurley took off her coat, tossing it across the seat of her bike. In copyright infringing red and black spandex with white frills at the cuffs and collar, she'd obviously got the costume design from a cartoon. Taking a deep breath, Necro-Filia's suit lit up as current flowed through the wires, amplifying her innate abilities. The two remained motionless, each waiting for the other to make a move. Clapping her paws together, Filia spread her feet apart as she began her battle cheer, "READY? ... OKAY! Stomp that bad guy to the ground, Yuh-huh! Yuh-huh! Stomp that ba... OW! HEY!" Filia pointed an accusing finger at the hyena woman, her body shaking with rage as she began shouting in a frenzy, "You hit me! Right in the middle of a cheer! What... what kind of... OW! OW! QUIT IT!" Filia screamed, lifting her arms to block Hurley's quick little rabbit punches. Responding swiftly, Hurley's feet left the ground as she drop-kicked the cheerleader bunny in the stomach, sending the hero across the lawn. Staring up at the stars, Filia groaned, wondering what was poking into her back, "Patrick... I think I fell on a lawn gnome." This couldn't be! Her very first fight with a super villain, and she was losing? That wasn't right! She was Necro-Filia! She was the hero! What the heck was happening here? "Sweetie, use the pom-pom attack!" Her father called out, having taken a seat on the hood of his car to watch. "Oh yeah! Thanks, dad!", With a running start, Filia leapt into a forward hand spring, landing in a perfect splits position just in front of Hurley Quinn. Her "pom-poms" activated, barbed steel spikes springing from her gauntlets as she pushed off the ground. Hurley staggered back at the last moment, avoiding a painful facial by scant inches from the rabbit's leaping uppercut. "Rah! Rah! Rah!" Filia cheered as she followed up the attack, swinging her fists wildly after the retreating hyena. Bobbing, weaving, and otherwise contorting to avoid being skewed, Hurley bent over backwards, performing a rapid back flip to put some distance between herself and the rabbit. Despite the rabbit being less experienced, Hurley realized Filia's speed was incredible, far surpassing her own. The armored bunny continued her maddened attack, forcing Hurley to back flip again and again. The clown cursed as she ran out of room, her back pressed against the red brick wall of Filia's house, "No fair! I was winning! You cheated!" "Like... I AM the hero after all... Give up? Rah! Rah!" Filia cheered, gushing at her recovery. How dramatic! How daring! She WAS cut out for this job after all! "I don't want to have to like, hurt you." Hurley clenched her red leather clad fist, ready to try one last desperate bid. It was her only chance, despite being a long shot. Holding her breath, the hyena steeled herself for the maneuver. 3...2...1... Hurley pointed behind the rabbit, shouting, "Hey!! Isn't that Lance from Furr Force Five?" As she did it, Hurley sighed... What would the charismatic leader of the Furr Force Five be doing in the Megatopia suburbs? No one could be that stupid. "Lance? Where?!?" Filia turned around, hopping up and down with excitement, "Lance Lynx? THE Lance Lynx!?! He's the most popular, sexy, strongest, well... after Horn Dog. Or Buck Naked. But he's still hot. He's so cool, violent, soft spoken, well dressed..." Hurley was so stunned by her success, she was unable to move for a moment as the bunny avenger rambled on. "Now I've got you!" Hurley shouted, drawing out her ultimantium alloy chattery teeth, taking on one of her most intimidating poses, she began cackling. Placing her hands on her hips, Hurley frowned as Filia continued "And he'll take me to the Lynx Cave, and do all sorts of things to my young and beautiful body! Oh my! Oh my!" "Hey..." "He'll want me to marry him, but I'll have to tell him no, because I'll want to make sure he's the right one for me... "Hey!" "But I'll have to break the news to Patrick somehow... Poor Patrick... Well, he'll get over it, I'm sure. He's a strong guy, and he..." Finally snatching a handful of the rabbit's blonde hair, Hurley snipped off a small lock with the razor-sharp chattery teeth. Still not responding, Filia's eyes had a distant look in them as she planned out her future with Lance. Hurley pocketed the prize glumly, something terrible nagging at her. Yeah... she'd got the lock of hair, so she could go... but... still... If there's one thing ANY clown just can't tolerate... it's being ignored. Slipping on her MEGAVOLT joy-buzzer, she wound it three times, watching Filia for any sign of intelligent life. Finding none, she wound it another three times for good measure, building up a massive charge. Sticking a finger in her ear, Hurley closed her eyes, reaching out gingerly with her outstretched palm. Rewarded with a shrill screech and the smell of ozone crisped bunny fur, Hurley started cackling again as she opened her eyes to survey the damage. Yet the grin died on the hyena's face as Necro-Filia turned around swiftly, the charge apparently only serving to really piss her off. Backpedaling into the wall again, Hurley reaching into her bag of tricks for her hyper-mega-springy pogo stick as Filia leapt into the air, with a dramatic shout, performing a graceful and perfectly executed jump kick. In slow motion, Hurley nimbly spun the pogo-stick about in her grasp, hopping onto the thrusters with all her weight. With the gushing hiss expelled by the thrust of eighty super-charged micro-pistons, Hurley Quinn launched into the sky, cackling. Her shape and the volume of her laughter dwindled as she gained altitude. Filia was able to let out a whimpering cry just before her boot slammed THROUGH the brick wall where Hurley's head had been, punching a hole in the side of the house. Hurley's laughter became louder by degrees, as she descended rapidly. Choosing her landing spot carefully, she brought the pogo-stick down on top of Barnaby's car, the roof caving in from the impact, sending glass spraying everywhere as the vehicle imploded. "Buh bye!" Hurley called out as she bagged the pogo-stick, and dove onto her bike. Revving the engine, she tugged her goggles back into place as she took off down the street. Dangling awkwardly from it, her leg wedged in up to her lower thigh, Filia called over to her father, "Uhmmm like... could I have a little help here, dad?" Meanwhile at Bleu Belle's apartment... Bleu had spent most of her morning recovering from the previous night, admiring the cool feel of the toilet seat lid against her cheek occasionally. While amongst her super powers was the ability to ignore the negative effects of junk food, that is to say, she could eat as much as she wanted without getting sick, gaining weight, or suffering tooth decay... alcohol was for some reason outside the category of "junk food", the fermented beverages simply not sharing a similar pattern of thought to Bleu's sugary comrades. Around twelve o'clock she decided she wasn't going out again tonight. She couldn't believe how out of hand she'd gotten. Around twelve thirty, Cheddar had called her, and she'd agreed within the first two minutes of conversation that she would indeed be going out with him again tonight... The remainder of her day had been spent in a hectic quest to locate something to wear within her modest budget. Bleu Belle settled upon a vaguely southwestern ensemble comprised of a pale lace shirt, an olive green velvet Spanish-cut coat, and a matching skirt. The coat's long sleeves ended in thick cuffs with impressive brass buttons, while the hem of the coat itself only extended an few scant inches past the swell of her bosom. The package of Ho-Ho's she devoured while examining herself in the mirror commented, "You look like a matador leprechaun..." She made sure to eat the offending crème roll particularly slowly, feeling insecure enough without the commentary of her mid-mid-afternoon snack. This time, she had made certain to avoid ANY trouble with taxi's or other forms of mass transit... at least any trouble on HER part, by forcing Cheddar to pick her up. It was true, that she had a number of patents which allowed her to live quite comfortably without working. And Cheddar was a graduate student who lived with his parents... But to be frank, if she wanted a car, she'd have to dip into her monthly food allowance. So many candy bars, potato chips, and heavily preserved pastries depended on her to release them from their imprisonment... She couldn't spare the money on something so frivolous as a car for herself! "He was the one who offered!" the cow insisted to herself, chewing sullenly on a chunk of saltwater taffy. Luckily, before she could get to feeling terribly guilty the door buzzer rang, distracting her. Mooing a tune cheerfully to herself as she unbolted the door, she swung it open wide, smiling broadly, "So I didn't embarrass you too badly last... night?" Bleu's shoulders slumped as she found no one was there. Leaning out of her doorway, she looked left and right, confirming the hallway to be equally empty. Closing the door behind herself, Bleu flopped back in her chair, picking up her book and taffy again. Actually she'd almost finished the Titan autobiography. She wasn't sure just how historically accurate it was, but it was engrossing, she had to admit. It was nice, a wholesome hero from a less turbulent age... not at all like Ferret Man. FM was everything that was wrong with vigilante superheroes... violent, arrogant, trigger happy, maybe a little insane... and somehow sexy. Bleu hated to admit it, but for some reason, he excited her, even if he was married, and too old for her. A fearless champion of justice, he was like a knight of yore... with a lot of guns. Chewing thoughtfully, lips smacking loudly as she began the next chapter, Bleu was unaware of the small black shape crawling along her ceiling. Shag reached out a twisted claw, strands of hair digging into the soft ceiling tiles, allowing him to adhere to it like a spider. Creeping along slowly, he settled above the distracted cowgirl and stopped. His legs unraveled, long tresses of black hair wiggling their way through the false stucco tiles to find the support beam above. Tying his legs around the beam, Shag let his claws hang as he descended slowly, his arms elongating as they unraveled themselves. The hair demon was ever so quiet as he waited. As Bleu turned a page, he struck, arms entangling her like a noose, wrapping around her neck. She let out a stifled moo as he dragged her out of her chair, her legs kicking wildly. Caught unaware, Bleu found herself choking for air, unable to call out to her friends in the kitchen and command them. And her bag of "weaponry" was at the front door. Struggling against the monster, she clamped onto the binding at her neck, trying to loosen it's hold. "The Crusader? Some Crusader... you're not even worth my time, mortal... I'll tear every last bit of hair from your skull for the master..." Shag laughed merrily, a raspy hissing noise, like gas escaping a broken main. Bleu looked to the door desperately as someone knocked on it. Unable to shout, she tried to calm herself, the bovine tendency to panic encoded into her genes. But seeing as how she couldn't stampede while she was being choked to death in midair, she HAD to fight the panic. Making a swift and sudden grab for Shag's face, she clenched her fist around the hairy creature's head. Pulling herself up the "rope" to gain slack in the noose, she kicked frantically at her chair-side lamps, rewarded as her hoof tipped one over. It's glass vase body shattered on contact with the floor, while she continued to wrestle with the hairy monster. A few moments later, the door buckled from a heavy kick, the deadbolt tearing out a sizable chunk of the doorframe as it slammed open. Holding his finger gingerly in front of himself as if it were a deadly weapon, Cheddar rushed in, "Bleu!" Smiling, despite the fact she was being choked to death, she resisted the urge to wave. Cheddar pointed at the ceiling, firing a small pellet of mozzarella at her assailant. Striking with impressive force, the cheese tore through the demon like a cannon ball, cutting him in half. Bleu fell back into her chair, coughing as air rushed back into her lungs. The demon began regrouping immediately, strands of frizzy oily hair knotting around each other rapidly. It turned about as it regained more of it's composure, hissing at the darkly dressed parrot, its mouth opening to its full diameter of four feet. Goth Cheddar pointed a gloved finger at the monster's feet, quickly tracing a circle in the air around the beast, "Behold... the power of cheese." An amazing spectacle, it was as if reality's dam burst open allowing seas of provolone cheese to flow free from the cracks in time-space, entrapping the demon in a five foot ball of fresh white cheese. Shoving a finger into the soft cheese, Cheddar swiftly traced out an handful of arcane symbols across the surface of the dairy prison, sealing the monster inside. Letting out a heavy sigh of relief, the parrot remembered Bleu Belle's injuries. Kneeling at her side, Cheddar helped the cowgirl to her feet, "Are you alright?" Not sure how to thank him, or WHAT to say actually, Bleu Belle sputtered for a moment, before saying the first thing that popped into her head, "You ARE a superhero!" "... I told you so." Numb from the sudden attack, Bleu decided it was probably best she calmed down, if only for Cheddar's sake. Rubbing her neck, she chuckled weakly, "Behold the power of cheese? You could get sued, you know." "Only if the dairy board catches me..." Bleu ran her fingers over the ward glyph carved into the white cheese, raising an eyebrow at the parrot, "What the heck is this?" "I'm part of a gothic superhero team, and we research all sorts of occult materials. In fact we spent an exhausting amount of time overlooking ancient tomes of ..." "Research? I've heard about your team, Cheddar..." "What's wrong with my team? ... alright, actually I saw it on a "Diablo Donkies" album cover... What did he want? Is he an old enemy of yours?" "I'm not a superhero! I don't HAVE any old enemies. What he wanted... I... don't really know. He called me a crusader? And said he wanted to tear my hair out. I'm never getting my security deposit back..." "We should probably call someone..." Cheddar suggested, not sure WHO to call. The police stayed out of most super-human matters out of habit. They'd take an inventory of what was damaged, file a report, and then never be heard from again. Which limited their options to finding help from one of his colleagues. He only knew one superhero aside from his teammates, and Cheddar had begun to suspect, despite their popularity that MAYBE Necro-Filia and Capt. Cadaver were a little inept at the whole superhero game. While the parrot turned things over in his head, Bleu recovered her jumbo stick of salt water taffy, and began chewing thoughtfully on it. "Hey, Cheddar... What about our date?" Cheddar rubbed his head, somewhat put out himself by this turn of events. He had reservations, damn it... And he'd spent most of his paycheck on his new suit (though he'd been thrifty enough to choose black, so he could wear it to his "OTHER" job), "I didn't think you'd be in the mood to date, after almost being killed by a hair monster..." Standing in the doorway, Bleu surveyed the damage to the room. A large chunk of artificial stucco torn from the ceiling, the doorframe had been irreparably shattered, and a huge ball of cheese that had taken up residence in the middle of her living room. "... the superintendent's gonna be pissed." Goth Cheddar helped her out of the apartment, trying to think of something to say. She was putting on a good show, but he could feel her shaking as he led her to the elevator. The poor woman... she wasn't a superhero... why would anyone frighten her like this? "Cheddar?" Bleu mooed as she lifted her head slowly to look at him, "Is it always like that? Fighting super-villains I mean? Is it always so..." And here it came... she was going to tell him that he lived too dangerous a life style, and that things wouldn't work out between them. Cheddar knew it was the hero's burden to struggle on alone, but... well you can't blame a guy for trying to date a bit. "Is it always so... uhmmm... stimulating?" "Stimulating?" Cheddar asked, expecting her to say something else entirely, "Uhmmm... What do you mean by that?" Bleu looked around as if to make sure no one was staring at her, before she whispered, "... can we go to your place?" "..." The parrot wasn't sure what to say to that. Would it be considered taking advantage of her in a weakened state of mind? The cow girl had been attacked! And there was the fact his parents were at home... The elevator opened with a ping, the sound rousing him from his internal monologue, "I don't know if that's a good idea. It was such a hectic night, you could be in shock. I don't want to r-GAH!" Cheddar let out a shout as he was tackled into the elevator by the dietician. The doors slid closed behind them, leaving the hallway empty except for the faint scent of fresh provolone cheese. +++ Ratchet Cordova had spent the past five hours listening to Magpie as he examined the blue prints for Vixen's "Permanent Solution". While it had taken the lemur most of the time to acclimatize herself to the stench, something odd had begun to happen. She began to also grow acclimatized to his bigoted, racist, disgusting, and unpleasant tendencies... Aside from all of that, he was actually a pretty decent sort, as well as being something of a genius. "This here... what tit designed this? Ach, put in a four valve regulator instead. Half-ass engineering students. Stupid fooks'. Why do the retards who slept with the professor to pass always end up becoming villains?" Correcting the schematics yet again, Ratchet was amazed by the smelly little bastard. He was disgusting, rude, foul-smelling, and obnoxious, but he'd also increased the power efficiency by eighty percent, while also boosting the machine's output to four times the original projections. And he'd installed a cd player... "Where the hell did ye find this arse? Did ye pay him anything for this?" "Actually we shot him after he completed the original design." "... ye let him off easy. Oi! Make yerself useful, light me." He hacked, waggling a fresh cigar between his beak. As she lit it her cell phone began playing the fleur de lis. Flipping it open, Ratchet cleared her throat into the speaker before answering, "Hi, this is Ratchet!" The precise, clipped tone of Vixen Twobits came in over the line, straight to the point she asked, "What's the status of the "Permanent Solution"?" "Great! Great! Magpie's managed to improve on the design, and shaved four hours off of the construction time." A grin crept across Vixen's face, one that simply embodied evil satisfaction in a job well done, "You'd best get building... we'll need it by ten o'clock tomorrow morning." "Yes ma'am!" Ratchet responded automatically. Playing with her ear nervously, she took a deep breath before asking, "Uhmmm, does this corporation have a policy against fraternization between workers, Ms. Twobits?" "... what?" "I was thinking of... well... maybe asking Magpie out. I mean, he's rude and kind of gross, but... he's a genius! With terrible body odor... but there's a sensative side to him." Glaring up from the schematics, the scottish blackbird shouted, "Oi! Ah'm right here fer Christ's sake... save the girl talk for when yer off the clock ye fricking mammal." "Gotta go!" Ratchet sighed, hanging up abruptly as her co-worker hacked out orders at her, "Ah said move yer tits, girl! Some people actually try to keep to a schedule, ye dumb priss..." Vixen stared at the phone, once more questioning just how much faith she could place in her subordinates. Stepping through the remains of Dr. Belle's door, the evil barber was forced to pause and admire the cheesy demonic prison. She had heard of Bleu Belle's power over the unhealthy foodstuffs of the world, but she'd never expected a power of this magnitude. Nor did Twobits expect her prey to have any knowledge of the occult, yet the cow girl had subdued her familiar with apparent ease. Sometimes you had to rely on yourself to get the job done. Tomorrow, she would grasp the reigns of the city, via "The Permanent Solution". The Permanent Solution was her ace in the hole... Using the latest in salon "perm" technology, it was a device that could generate a field of densely packed particles above the city. This ionicly charged barrier would be used to focus the heat of the sun much like a magnifying glass down upon the people of the city, creating an artificial greenhouse effect that would increase the humidity within until the inhabitants had been boiled alive. The inhabitants would suffer a full body perm, their fur twisted into frantic, singed bushels of split ends... and these lowly survivors would seek out one to lead them out of their hairstyle disaster. A messiah! And she would be that messiah, oh yes! But first... she had to find a bit of cow hair. Yes, even she needed untainted samples, that she might be able to repair the damage to the city. But Bleu... Dr. Bleu Belle... that cow trudged on through life, not realizing she had raised the ire of Vixen Twobits. Vengeance would be hers... oh yes. Just a matter of time. And cow hair... "Cow hair... cow hair..." After a few moments search Vixen located the bathroom, the prize she sought lying next to a half eaten Oh, Henry bar... "All too easy... with this final piece, I shall have the ultimate power, come the next twilight." She cleared her throat, laughing maniacally for a few moments, before realizing no one was around, thusly no one was particularly impressed. Pocketing the hairbrush, Vixen drew out her scissors in a sweeping motion, making a single "snip" in midair, before sheathing them again. Reality began to peeled back from the incision, shortly revealing a gapping black portal. The infernal hair-stylist stepped forward, vanishing into the ether, leaving no witnesses... save the Oh, Henry bar. +++ "If the criminal element can just break into the home of the city's greatest hero, and attack her in her bed room... I JUST DON'T KNOW!" Victoria roared, attracting the attention of a number of guests in the small elegant restaurant. It had taken five hours of emergency styling work to restore her lovely mane. Even now it was too short, but only time could heal that wound. Damn that clown! DAMN HER! Enjoying her after dinner coffee, Mignon tapped her spoon against the rim a few times to irritate her guest. She'd been feeling a bit odd herself, lately. For one thing the cow felt as if she had a great deal more energy. For another, she had started seeing things again. But rather then addressing these oddities, she asked, "So, who attacked Buxom Gal?" "What? No one. I was the one who was attacked! Don't you remember? You were there!" "I was asleep..." Mignon reminded the lioness, with her customary deadpan, "You said the city's greatest hero was attacked." "... Buxom Gal is NOT this city's greatest hero!" "That's what all the papers say." "Well they're wrong. What do newspaper reporter's know? They're practically blue collar workers. They'll write anything if you pay them enough." "That's true... they gave your book a good review, didn't they?" Mignon sipped at her coffee, wanting to change the subject from Victoria's problems, yet wasn't sure what else there was to talk about. Finally, the cow-girl set down her steaming cup, and confessed, "Vicky-darling... I think I'd very much like to break something." "You what? Have you been taking your pills?" "Yes..." "Take another one." "Alright." Indeed, that was something else that was unusual. Typically her medication were large white horse pills that tasted bitter, leaving a dry taste in her mouth for hours after she took them. Yet this time, her prescription was comprised of small sweet minty little capsules. Mignon had found this odd, but she preferred the new pills so much that she hadn't wanted to ask Victoria about it. Suddenly, everyone's phone began ringing, a chorus of beeps echoing through the room in unison. Answering hers in unison with the rest of the crowd, Victoria growled into the receiver, "What? I'm having dinner!" It was Barnaby on the line, the rabbit apparently excited over something. His voice was almost shaking as he explained, "You've got a public appearance. This is better then we could hope for... a real super villain! And Offenders and Furr Force Five are out of town and can't respond. This is a chance to grab some headlines, Victoria!" "A real villain?" "The Snugglebug! She's wreaking havoc at the Museum of Inflatable Furniture!" "What?!? Who cares?" "... who cares?" A long silence followed, Barnaby Tull's voice giving the impression someone had just punched him in the gut. "Who cares? You're a superhero! You're the Titan! AND... you've got decreasing book sales and need a P.R. boost. So suit up, or I drop you as a client." Hanging up, Victoria pulled herself out of her chair with a sigh. Now her publicist was giving HER orders. The writing game was so very tedious. Patting the back of Mignon's hand, the lioness turned on her most charming fake smile, "I have to work. Can you get home by yourself, cow-pie?" "... was that supposed to be an affectionate pet name?" "... Yes. Yes it was." "And you wonder why I haven't introduced you to my parents?" While she wanted to finish the conversation, Victoria didn't have the time to placate her cow at the moment, and so she simply ignored the question. "I'll be back late. I've got a city to protect." Wainwright threw on her coat, rushing to the ladies room to change. Victoria opened the first stall boldly, only to find it was already taken, the occupant half in a state of undress. The mouse girl continued to hop up and down, trying to tug on her brightly colored spandex over her evening gown. As the brown mouse noticed she had an observer, she began blushing bright red, shouting at the lioness, "Hey! Wait your turn!" Moving onto the next stall, ignoring the shrill complaints of the half dressed superhero, Victoria rushed into the second booth... only to find it too was occupied. "Hey! Are you trying to learn the secret identity of the Hooded Hamster? Out!" Pushed out of the second stall, Victoria crossed her arms over her chest. Squatting down, she confirmed there was a pair of day-glow yellow booties in the third stall. Well, it wasn't as if she had a secret identity to hide... she HAD published a book after all. Clasping her amulet, she closed her eyes, concentrating as she activated the Titan armor. Thick plates of steel enshrouded her, the heads-up display goggles settling into place over her eyes as she was sealed into the power-suit. In a flash she was ready for battle... as The Titan! Stooping down so as not to damage the low ceiling, she reached out a three fingered steel mitten towards the door knob. The knob dislodged itself in the face of her strength, while the door itself remained stubbornly shut. Applying her hand to the door, she pushed it off it's hinges in a trice, "Damn it..." Unable to fit through the doorframe, she took it with her as the Titan broke out an exit for itself. The few remaining diners had all stopped eating to watch the cumbersome steel monster as it lumber out of the ladies' room. Lifting her hands, Victoria's voice was deeper and gravelly as she addressed the crowd, "No need to worry. The Titan is on the way. Return to your meals." Crouching down, the Titan's leap system was engaged, the targeting computer calculating the trajectory for the museum of inflatable furniture accounting for numerous factors in a few milliseconds. Victoria jumped up, through the ceiling, causing plaster to rain down on the patrons below. The maitre' d wiped the sweat from his brow, murmuring in awe, "Was that the Titan?" Mignon nodded to him, as she held out her coffee cup, "Yeah... I'm her girlfriend. More coffee please." "Of course... Oh, can you tell me where to send the bill for all the damage?" He queried as he refilled coffee. Accepting the cup, Mignon mulled it over. She did sort of have a duty to protect her girlfriend's secret identity, even though it was public knowledge. They had a relationship to consider. And that meant being able to trust one another with crucial secrets without fear of repercussions. "I really can't. I have an obligation to her, you see. She'd be terribly angry with me, how could I possibly tell her I betrayed her trust in me?" "I quite understand your predicament. hrmmmm... I'm sure we could get you free dinner for two on your next visit. That way you can break the news to her over a nice meal." "Free? Well, in that case..." Meanwhile at the Museum of Inflatable Furniture... Mach-Ten Tabby had never been taken seriously by the other heroes. He'd designed the Gato-Cannon, a portable transportation device that allowed him to travel at amazing speeds, up to and including Mach Ten. The problem was, when you got that much mass moving at that much speed, it was really hard to stop... He'd earned a reputation for being the first hero on the scene, unfortunately he would most often launch right PAST the scene of the crime just as quickly. But this time he was ready. He'd been lucky enough to be just a couple of blocks from the Museum of Inflatable Furniture when he'd received the call, and instead of relying on his jet engine, he'd called a cab. And as always he was the first superhero on the scene... but this time, he was going to make a difference. This time, Buxom Gal wasn't in town... THIS TIME HE WOULD BE THE HERO! As his cab pulled up, he noticed a small white boxy vehicle as it hopped the curb, sparks flying as the low fender scraped against the pavement. Its driver, a blue uniformed weasel, stepped out onto the sidewalk, adjusting his U.S. Postal Service cap, and checking his glossy white smile in the side view mirror. MailGuy wasn't the first vigilante to come from the ranks of the post office, Post Man and Mail Man leading the charge. Thusly... he was considered a third rate copycat hero. Mach-Ten leapt out of the cab, sprinting towards the weasel, shouting, "Buzz off, Mailguy! She's my collar! I got first dibs!" "Like hell, you do! I was here first." "No you weren't! I... Look, the rest are going to get here any minute!" Mach-Ten gritted his teeth, his fur standing on edge as he suggested the most heinous of ideas, " Look.. Want to team up against her so we can bag the villain before the glory hounds show up?" Mailguy considered the matter, the weasel eyeing Mach-Ten Tabby suspiciously, "Okay... you got a deal. But I get top billing for the team up." About to argue, Mach-Ten's jaw dropped as the ten foot tall metal doors that sealed the museum slammed open, smoke pouring forth, flames silhouetting the villainess as she stormed out of the blazing building, "... you got top billing. But you go first." Fanning out a handful of legal sized envelopes, the weasel nodded grimly, "Cover me... I'm going in." Squaring off his shoulders, the Mailguy matched the villainess' casual pace as he ascended the stairs to meet her. As Mailguy came face to face with the villainous porcupine, the automatic doors slammed shut behind her, entrapping the blaze within. No longer back-lit by the raging inferno, the assailant didn't really look all that intimidating... Mailguy had had this problem once before, in that he had attacked a fleeing hostage, thinking that she was actually Dr. Devastator disguised as an 80 year old woman. Suffice to say... it wasn't. "I'm sorry to ask, miss, but... Are you... the Snugglebug?" Sadly, Tina's AI just wasn't designed for deep thought. She had the capacity for it, the android always having a knack for learning tasks quickly. Her matrix WAS able to handle fuzzy logic as well as mimic emotion. Unfortunately her personality template was such that she infrequently took advantage of these abilities... "Hrmmm? Call me Tina! No wait... I mean Cuddles. How do you all remember this secret identity stuff all the time?" She tittered happily, her big green eyes opening wide as she read his badge, taking time to pronounce "Poast off-iss" phonetically, "You're Mailman, aren't you?!? ... did you have a letter for me?" "I'm the Mailguy. And I'm here to stop your villainy! After all the people whose lives you've crushed, whose... I'm sorry, I have to ask again. Are you sure you're the Snugglebug? I mean... I sort of expected someone... bigger." "I never get mail... Well nothing worthwhile anyways... Nice to meet you though!" Tina offered him a disarming smile as she wrapped her arms around the startled weasel in a warm, friendly snug. Actually it was rather pleasant, until the grip of her arms went from "secure and friendly" to "bone-crushing", her quills managing to penetrate even his postal office issued Kevlar. His spine popped audibly, serenading him as his organs were compressed painfully by the viciously friendly porcupine, "GACK!" All he could think as he began to black out was, " I hope my H.M.O. covers chiropractor visits..." "Mailguy!" Mach-Ten cried out, running up the stairway two at a time. Normally he wouldn't wee-wee on Mailguy if the bastard was on fire... but today... today was different! They were teaming up! That weasel was his partner, damn it! "Let him go or I'll..." Surprised, Tina let the Mailguy drop limply to the ground, turning her attention to the enraged feline with the jet engine strapped to his back. Standing off, Mach-Ten Tabby clenched his fist defiantly, shaking it at the porcupine girl, "I'll... I'll..." It occurred to him then, that he'd never actually GOTTEN to the scene of a crime in time to do anything, so... he wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do. "And who might you be? I'm Tina... I mean Cuddles. Gosh this secret identity stuff is hard... What's your name?" The android terror asked, an innocent smile on her face as she opened her arms wide, the sight somewhat like the jaws of a great beast opening before it gnawed on some small furry woodland creature. Backing up slowly, Mach-Ten held up his hands trying to stave the Snugglebug off, "Keep away! Keep away!" "Wait... let me check." She halted her onward march of doom to rest a hand across her heart, "Hrmmm..." Tina mumbled as she listened quietly, as if observing something of great importance. Finally with a beaming smile and a nod, she confirmed, "Yep! I've got another hug in me!" "GAH!!! No! Eeeeeeeeeek! Oooo!" By now a small crowd of heroes had gathered at the base of the stairs, watching in horror as the Mach-Ten Tabby was squeezed like a tube of toothpaste, his eyes bugging out of his skull as he began yowling like a woman. "... somebody save him!" "You're a superhero too! Go on! Go get her!" "...I can't, I'm a pacifist." "You lying little bitch, GunBunny! What kind of pacifist carries around an automatic weapon!?!?" "Hey! It's for hunting! I admire the sport!" "You poser..." The argument raged amongst the gathered heroes, none noticing the whistling noise in the background, as of a large bomb dropping from the sky. Creating a vast impact crater, concrete shrapnel flying in all directions as she landed, the Titan arrived dramatically as always. Standing up to it's full ten feet of height, the massive armored hero rested her hands at her hips, "Let the cat go, and surrender. You're coming with me." Cuddles responded immediately, releasing the distressed and internally bleeding hero, "Sorry... Hey! I've seen you on T.V.! You're the Titan!" Murmurs from the assembled heroes echoed the statement. Yes, it was the Titan! The greatest hero of the previous two ages, come back to protect the city! Invincible! Swift to wield the righteous anger of the citizens! "Go get her, Titan!" The Titan remained motionless, it's towering form silent as it stared down at the comparatively tiny android. It didn't bother to speak a word. Nor did it waste time trying to negotiate. In fact it... wasn't doing much of anything. Within Victoria kicked on the gas pedal repeatedly, cursing like a penguin from the south side docks, "Move! Come on! Oh Christ... Couldn't they have left a repair manual with the damned thing? Advanced alien civilization my ass!" Blind to the outside world, she slumped into her chair, waiting. Sometimes the engine got flooded... That's what she hoped it was at least, and not another power outage. Those lasted anywhere up to five or six hours. Victoria had grown wise to this though, and this time she had brought a magazine and a flashlight into the suit with her. Hunkering down to read, she would occasionally look up to see if the engine light had come back on or not. Outside however, the battle had just begun to heat up, Cuddles throwing everything she had at the Titan, the android clamped onto the Titan's right arm like a leech, snuggling with all of her might as she droned on, "Yeah, and they cancelled it after only four seasons. It was the end of a lot of careers, but Tim Curry went on strong to be in such films as Legend, The Shadow, Oscar, and even a remake of Mchale's Navy... which I didn't like, but Tim Curry was good in it. Say... do you like Tim Curry? Me too!" The gathered crowd whispered amongst themselves, not sure what to do, "The Titan hasn't moved... what's it doing?" "Just playing possum. You watch, it's going to wait until it has that crazed villainess RIGHT where it wants her!" "Shouldn't we put out the fire or something while Titan's fighting her?" "We have to help Mailman and Mach-Ten too! The Titan'll keep her busy... right?" "Don't distract them! Just give the Titan room to work. It won't take long! Go Titan!" Inside the cabin, Victoria set down her magazine, yawning. The lioness paused to check her watch, realizing it was almost midnight. Switching off her flashlight, she shifted about until she managed to find a comfortable position in the cramped cockpit, and having done so, she let herself drift off into a fitful slumber.
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