Guns. Brains. And Spiffy Keen Sunglasses. *LOADING* DEUS EXCEL by Princess Toadstool Starter by Lawrence Chu Episode 3: Even the Hyper "WAAAAH-huh?" Newbie Agent XL, Unaware That She Had Died In The Last Scene, and currently wishing she had her own personal buffet to demolish, shoved Hyatt off her lap. Hyatt gasped, sending a really gross line of red stuff onto Excel's shiny military boot. "Na...beshin..." she hacked, standing up quickly. She lurched toward Excel with a sudden look of not-so-vacantness. Excel stepped aside, politely allowing Hyatt to sink to the floor once again. "YES!", XL X-claimed, "we must rescue his immensefuzzyQ-Tip head... For JUSTICE! And..." A Dramatic Pause floated through the room. "For..THE REALLY HOT GUY WHO TOLD ME TO DO IT!" . **LOADING** --New York City, Castle Clinton, 10th floor --Time: 1:19 pm --Date: 22 October, Oh..20-something. --Dog: It's what's for dinner. Geroge Clinton and his new P-Funk Marshmallow Band (not to be confused with Bill Clinton and the Rockettes) gathered in the Hall of Evil Stuff for the obligatory after-lunch-and-still-too-full-to-think-Meeting. George C. sat in his Mighty Chair, 'cause all semi-villians have one. "Now, my evil fun-kay ones, we have been CHOSEN! as NSF's special unit for finding this Na-be-Shiny guy. That Guy, who did a pretty hot job the first time around, got crushed by a..." The Funkmeister switched to his next hot pink index card, unaware of the phrase 'Sphincter Boy' revealed to the audience on the other side of the card. "A falling keg of dynamite pickles. Well damn, that's a shame! But now WE!, the Funky Fresh Agent Squad must wrench Shiny from the secure hands of UNATCO and claim VICTORY!" Doctor Funkenstien, head of NSF Department of Crazy Hair Dye, raised a hand. It has yet to be determined if it was attached to one of his arms. "But why, O Master of Funkdom? Why do we need this Nabeshin guy? Can't we just take over the world by ourselv-YAAAAAHHHHGG~! -I like that button-, Mr. Clinton mused in small puffy thought clouds, taking his chunky finger away from a shiny purple button marked 'Dungeon of sea monsters raised on Puppy Chow'. "Agents! What is the first rule of the P-Funk Marshmallow Band?" "SHUT THE HEEEELL UP, YO!" "When is that, my soldiers of Funkytown?" "WHENEVER HIS FUNKYNESS SPEAKS, YO!" **LOADING** "Doctor Howard, Doctor Fine, Doctor Pedro.." UNATCO General Hospital's intercom was unusually cheerful this morning. Perhaps it was all the cement-bruised victims that had flooded in last night, giving the Intercom Lady something to twitter about. Pedro, on the other foot, was far from chipper. "WHHYYYYYYYY??" he moaned. "I must find the horrible, horrible MEANIE MAN who made all these patients come to ME! He sobbed. It wasn't pretty. Rushing off towards the starircase (he didn't trust elevators anymore), he managed to grab a towel and a six pack of soda to aid in his mission to join in the good fight. "FOR UNATCO!" **LOADING** Cheeseburger. Mustard. A match made not in heaven, but..New Jersey. **LOADING** "That made me...hungryyy!!" Excel whined, searching for a food court in the strangely mall-like atmosphere of Castle Clinton. The escalator didn't seem to work, even though Excel had been stepping as lively as she could for the last 28 minutes. She finally gave up trying to go to the second floor as the escalator kindly escorted herback down to the lavender linoleum floor. A distant chant of 'Glad to be of serrrvicee' sounded faintly behind her as she dragged Hyatt by the hair to the other side of the room. A Starbucks loomed before her. Excel salivated and was quickly overcome by the scent of raw caffinee with a big fat smatter of Evil mixed in for flavor. She died, feeling it was necessary for the scene. Menchi, unseen until now because the author felt spiteful, trembled in doggie fear. **LOADING** -- It was dark. Not that clichèd inky blackness of the soul, it was just the sort of dark you get when you forget to turn on the bathroom light at 3am and wonder what happened to the cookies that were just chasing you. Nabeshin thought It smelled like an rain-soaked ottoman covered in slimy orange peels. Feeling the walls press stubbornly against his palms, he suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to cover his head with his handkerchief and screech for his binkie. It came closer. **OBLIGATORY LOADING** --Castle Clinton, Starbucks #4476242 --Time: 2:12 pm --Date: Minimal clouds with a chance of rain --Mochas: Eight double-shots Hyatt woke to something that sounded like a massive herd of ferrets howling at the moon. "AAAAAAAAYAYAYAYAYAAAAAAIII!" Excel's screech caused hens in Maine to molt. Where was the SPCA when you needed them? Slamming down her last double mocha with extra whipped cream and pink sprinkles, she highfived the barista and handed over her company charge card. "I LOVE my new job!" Or rather, it sounded like: "IIi L-LLUVmynewNEWj-j-j-jJOB!" Cheetah had nothing on her. "YOOOSHH! Time to find my next contact! Misson Eliminate Bad Guys begin!" Reloading her rifle with ammo pulled from Koshi knows where, she pumped Hyatt's torso full of lead for good measure and spun out into the food court like greasy salami on a five-foot skillet. EPISODE 3- NOT EVEN THE HYPER TODAY'S EXPERIMENT...........FAILED. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Strangely, no caffinee was ingested in the making of this tidbit of strangeness. But it did keep me for reading 'My Antonia' for American Lit. Not that I have a problem with corn, or anything. Thanks to Lawrence for prereading at the last minute! Love to those who know it, Peaches P.S.- Play Incredible Crisis. Now. Forget the added American cheese and enjoy.