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