"OHHHHHH..... Wha.... Ah... " Bob moaned weakly as he slowly began to regain consciousness. As he slowly sat up and looked around he could see that it nighttime and that a burning greyhound bus was in the background. Suddenly he was being smothered between two somethings. "Oh thank G-d your ok. You are ok right? OF COURSE YOU ARE. You have to be. Right RiGHt RIGHT?!!?" As Bob attempted to gasp for breath he became aware that it was Plaz smothering him and that the two somethings were her breasts. He knew that if he did not stop her hugging soon he was going to be smothered to death, but he figured there were worse ways to go. Plaz quickly pulled away as she realized what she was doing was completely out of character (not that's ever really mattered to this story before). She looked away rather nervously and then said "Sorry but you unconscious for three hours and I was really getting worried. Do you feel alright Bob?" Bob slowly crawled to his feet, clutching at his head. "Why do I have a sudden sense of...deja vu?" Melting out of the shadows in a really cool, special-effects-budget- eating manner, Alucard quipped, "What did you just say?" The Belmont lad replied, simply, "Just a little deja vu." Alucard turned towards the exploded remains of the Greyhound Bus, the surrounding area presenting a surprising lack of scorched and burning civilian corpses, and said nothing, so as not to perpetuate this pop-culture-referencing joke that the author felt like putting in here because this is HIS chapter and HE can do whatever he damn well feels like with it since this is ChibiImpro, RIGHT!?!?!? Plaz, the gender-shifting, almost-inept wizard, Bob, the Belmont who has not generally been able to reach his Whipping Things Quota on average per battle in this story, and Alucard, the cursed half-breed son of Dracula whose human and vampire natures eternally war with each other and who struggles to do good in the face of overwhelming evil all sweatdropped, except of course for Alucard, the cursed half-breed son of Dracula whose human and vampire natures eternally war with each other and who struggles to do good in the face of overwhelming evil, because he is far too bishonen to do so. Cut to the title. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- For No Good Reason At All, but For Several Bad Ones, Improfanfic Presents, For Your Continued Ridicule: Castlevania 1970: Disco Of Evil Chapter 14: No Need for Continuity! (Continuity no Muyo!) This ChibiImpro now mercilessly mutilated by: Medius Laire Who had generally the same idea upon playing Castlevania: SotN as: Gajin Dan Mastriani ----------------------------------------------------------------------- With a convenient after-title scene skip, we join the most evil character in this story aside from Brother Drac himself and his living-impaired guest in his Sanctum of Evil (also known as "the Oval Office".) Death would be jealous to know that the author is tending to favor this new evil person over him, but NYAAAAAH!!! The 4th Wall is in the way, so I can NYAAAAAAH!!! all I want at him and he'll never, ever know. Death's scythe conveniently crashed through said Fourth Wall just as the author finished making fun of him through it. "YAAAAAH!!! BASTARD! BASTARD! YAAAAAAAAAGGGHH!!! DIE!!! DIE!!! DIE!!!" Of course, the author's amazing, newly-acquired ImproPowers allowed him to safely shove the Castlevania boss back where he belonged, repairing the Fourth Wall in the process. And then the author sweatdropped, realizing that he hadn't really gotten anywhere, even so late after he was supposed to start wri - uhhhh, even when he had PLENTY of time left before the part was due, of course. Richard Milhouse Nixon (who the author giggles at because of his middle name, despite the fact that the author likes him more than Death) paced back and forth across the room impatiently, his dog rushing back and forth underfoot as Death spun in his Presidential chair of Funk...[*handjive*] and EVIL. "WHEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" Death 'wheeeeeeeee'ed, almost pretending to be the incarnation of Krizalid from another Chibi on an affiliated site. The blur of purple robes and black chair slowed down until finally it resolved back into the familiar sprite of Death (albeit with little swirlies in his eyesockets). "Where _are_ they? They were supposed to be here hours ago," Nixon of the Riot of the Funk [*handjive*] and EVIL! ominously complained as a convenient plot device to build some dramatic tension. He was beginning to wear a rut in the shag carpet ('coz this is the '70s, so there's gotta be something like that in the White House of Funk...[*handjive*] and EVIL! The author was summarily smacked over the head with a classic Shojo Mallet o' Doom from nowhere for using the major running gag of the story twice in the same paragraph. Death started spinning again. ^_^ *_* O_o #_# x_x "What was that?" Bob asked, bewildered. "What was what?" Plaz replied, doing nothing in particular due to author laziness. Alucard cast a meticulous gaze over the last few lines, and took a deep breath of Exposition™. "It seems that the author, in a period of deplorable lax writing behavior has taken to inattentively underdescribing the situation (probably stemming from an extreme case of inspiration deprivation) and has begun writing an extremely long paragraph of inane dissertative dialouge for me (likely to make up for my lack of an appearance in the last episode) in which I repeatedly break the Fourth Wall by referring to this series of collected anecdotes as such, and speaking of the author's writing style. As to your question..." Alucard trailed, almost uncertainly, placing his chin in his hand in a bishonenly thoughtful and introverted pose. "I have no clue." As was the anime tradition, Plaz and Bob both facefaulted at that inordinately small and unenlightening answer as the author continued to blabber on for no point whatsoever besides to lengthen this nowhere near bloated (in fact insofar inadequate-sized),not-funny-enough ep. And now, another confusing scene break just for the sake of adding a couple more spaces in the text. %_% $_$ &_& )_( @_@ A small, purple demon wielding a pitchfork, a tiny blonde woman with wings wearing a white gown, a translucent orange skull surrounded by turquoise flames, and a gold-hilted western longsword were sitting around a table at a bar, playing cards. "Hit me!" the fairy shouted. "All right, if that's what you want," the sword replied, before getting whomped over the blade by a huge hammer the fairy had produced out of nowhere. "Ow." "Literalist," the fairy spat. "..." the ghostly skull not-spoke. The demon-imp took a quick glance around the table, upon completing which he stated, "I fold." It threw its cards onto the table and dove under the table. Loud "glug"ing noises emanated from the shadows, followed by a loud, "Ahhhh." Something glass shattered, and the demon flew away erratically. Suddenly, without warning, Hecubus fell screaming from somewhere in the rafters of the shady tavern, crashing headfirst into the group of familiars' table. "Ah-HA! At last I have returned to spread the word of funk [*handjive*]...and EVIL upon this world! In the name of the Dark Priest Shaft who drives all the undead wild and Brother Drac, the funkiest [*handjive*] and most EVIL brother of all, I SHALL destroy Alucard, the cursed half-breed son of Dracula whose human and vampire natures eternally war with each other and who struggles to do GOOD in the face of overwhelming EVIL! Huh?" Hecubus finished ranting, glancing around his general vicinity. The fairy had a sadistic smirk on her face. The ghost was glowing brighter. The sword seemed to be even pointier and sharper than before. And so, Hecubus was humbled. "EVIL! I've never SEEN such an EVIL tactic before!!! Killing someone right after they revive again for no apparent reason other than to be killed again by the protagonists or the friends of the protagonists! EVIL!" Hecubus went down after the fairy's hammer met his head. H_H AND NOW, COMMENTARY FROM BEHIND THE FOURTH WALL!!!! "Oh, how mightily this part is biting the big one," the author cursed. "Woe is me, for the part is due tom - I mean, the part is due a WEEK from now, and I have plenty of time to finish it, if that's what you're worried about." He looked warily from side to side, and went back to looking all melodramatically depressed, hand to his forehead. "What with rampant OOC-ness and everybody starting to speak in long runon sentences and at best halfhearted attempts at humor, I'll never, ever get this past my prereaders..." The author promptly smacked himself upside the head with his Playstation. "Ah! Of COURSE! I have the PERFECT idea! I'll just -" !_! ...but the author was cut off by the Fourth Wall, as the scene returned once more inside the continuity...well, what was left of the continuity after his apparent decision to pick it up and throw it in a running Cuisinart. But by now, the author had realized that he was ALMOST GIVING THE PLOT SOME SORT OF DIRECTION!!! so he immediately decided to put something else in in place of what he was going to write to continue the story, and possibly tack what he had gotten rid of on the end somewhere. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ AND NOW... UNDEAD! FROM THE DISCO INFERNAL! THE SMALLEST SPECTACLE IN SOMEWHAT RANDOM VIDEO GAME SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT AND IMPROFANFIC! IT'S TIME FOR... { C A S T L E V A N I A } { C A M E O F I G H T I N G } { F E D E R A T I O N } { .-----------. } { | U-L-T-R-A | } { `-----------' } { } "ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FUNK...[*handjive*]...AND EEEEEEEEEVIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL????????" The mildly impressive crowd gathered around the flashing dance floor replied with a cacophony of gurgles, rasps, screeches, squeals, roars, and various other sounds that Children of the Night™ are wont to make. Brother Drac himself lounged upon his throne to the side, surrounded in a pile of the lifeless, drained bodies of nubile young women. The Dark Priest Shaft, however, was layin' some o' that dark, evil magic on the remaining ho's. _Sancho_, who for some reason made it back to the Disco Infernal with his glittery shorts in one piece, was flaunting himself at the bar. And next to an impromptu ring, sitting at a table upon which were located two microphones were... ...Norikazu, seer of the Phoenix Clan and the Demon Goddess of El Hazard, Ifurita. Were you expecting someone else? Oh, and who might *they* be? What? MTCFF ULTRA? No, can't say that I have. Why ever would you bring something like that up right now? "I knew you were going to start that again," Norikazu grumbled. Shut up before I have to call the This Old Disco crew to fix the Fourth Wall again. "And I knew you were going to say that, too." I could do something quite nasty to you. Norikazu looked up at the author through the Fourth Wall, which was handily transparent for that action. He blinked, and went back to looking at the ring, picking up his microphone. "Ladies, gentlemen, zombies, vampires, bizarre deformities, Cthulhuoid entities, large fly-infested multipart corpses hanging from the ceiling -" Beelzebub, Demon Lord of Flies and expert multipart hanging-from-ceiling, large-fly-infested corpse, tried to wave. His hand fell off and fell from 50 feet, crushing a handy cluster of bystanders. "- good evening, and welcome to CCFF Ultra. Tonight, we have quite a few matches which I already know the outcome of, but I won't spoil for you." He waved to the silent android next to him. "This is my co-announcer, Ifurita. Say hello to the nice people, Ifurita." "Hello." Norikazu nodded. "I knew you'd do that. But before I wear that joke out TOO much, here's our first match of the night." He adjusted the collar of his robes. "The first of our contenders is a Japanese Ninja master hailing from the NES series Ninja Gaiden. Those of you in the audience, give it up for the wielder of the Invincible Fire Wheel and the Dragon Sword, Ryu Hayabusa!" A young man in a blue ninja uniform and sandals stepped out from the bathroom, adjusting the strap that held his katana's sheath across his back. He looked about the crowd, widened his eyes for a second, and then shrugged and flipped through the air onto the Dance Floor of [...] and EVIL! "Our second contender is a rival ninja master from another game series that began on the NES. (Ifurita, if you'd please not stare off into space like that; it's awfully impolite to stare, even at space.)" The old seer tapped Ifurita on the back of the head, and she fell face- first onto the table. Norikazu released a small sweatdrop. "I knew that'd happen," he grumbled, and then noticed that the crowd was becoming agitated (Beelzebub's flies were beginning to gnaw on a group of zombies.), and continued his commentary. "Everyone, please welcome, scion of the Ouroborous Clan...STRIDER HIRYUU!!!" Nothing happened. And nothing happened. And some more nothing happened. And then, there came the _slurping_. Strider Hiryuu, aforementioned scion of the Ouroborous Clan, was standing next to the ring, sucking down the last bit of a Slurpee. "I didn't know he was going to do that." Ifurita, meanwhile, was somehow beginning to drool a little, face still firmly planted against the announcer's table. Hiryuu crushed the cup in his hand and pulled his bandanna back up into place, before tossing the crippled cardboard container into the crowd and teleporting onto the dance floor. And as the two ninja stared each other down, katana and cypher drawn, the match was on. ][ GAMMA MATCH #1: NINJA MASTER AUTHOR'S GRUDGE MATCH ][ RYU HAYABUSA VS. STRIDER HIRYUU ][ FIGHT! Ryu immediately leapt into the air and slashed through a red orb that occasionally flashed the image of a sword in a ball, which was redundant. He caught it as it fell, and immediately unleashed a few massive slashes that reached out at least twice as far as before. Hiryuu dodged. Ryu slashed through another orb and flung a hail of fireballs down on...the spot where Hiryuu had been standing. Another leap, and Ryu picked up another powerup. This time, a flickering red image of himself appeared, and leapt up into the air where the powerup had been while he ran to the next red ball. Hiryuu stood in the middle of the dance floor, watching Hayabusa's ninja-esque antics. Ryu dropped to the ground and began flinging a hail of shuriken at the Strider - who immediately split into four images. These images reappeared seconds later, one after the other in front of Ryu, each bringing their cypher down and through the young man, before vanishing again. The un-bandannaed ninja collapsed against the floor as Hiryuu recorporated on the other side. Norikazu blinked, unfazed. "I knew that was going to happen. Really I did." The crowd broke into various cheer equivalents as Ryu's body was carted over to the buffet. Hiryuu leapt up into the rafters and disappeared in ninja-ish fashion. Suddenly, Norikazu, Ifurita, and the table vanished through a gaping plot hole - the cartoon perils were no more. As the author reached his Monty Python Quota with a whopping ONE reference. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! "What was that?" Bob asked. "What was what?" Plaz replied, doing nothing in particular due to author laziness. Alucard refrained from speaking. The fairy had convinently smashed his head with a hammer in a scene that the author hadn't written. And once again, the main characters get little screen time before the author changes scenes again. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Death was drinking a few martinis with President Nixon in the Official White House Bar & Grill, which Nixon had added in his campaign of Funk...[*handjive*]... and EVIL! "An...an...an' then I...I laughed at 'im, an' I took his coooooooooollll...schtuff, and I floated away into later in the game!" Death slurred, despite the fact that his martinis had all simply fallen through his lower jaw and onto his ribcage. "Now...now *that* was...*that* was...I dunno," Hecubus sloppily not-catchphrased. "Checkersh, how many timesh do I have to tell you... only one beer. No more than that. 'S bad for you," Nixon rather tipsily scolded his dog. "An'...an' then when he finally getsch to me... I juscht do the shame ol...old thing I've done schince the firscht game...I juscht started floating around the room, throwing schy...schy...shicklesh," Death self-pitied, putting a bony arm around Hecubus's sch - I mean, shoulders. "I kkkk..k-now what you're say...saying," Hecubus replied. "I've tried the same d...damn thing every time I go up against Alucard..." Hecubus decided to take a nap on the bar, in his drink. "An' there wash the time when I wash on the clocktower...when I schtarted out with the schame thing, throwing little...schy...schy...sicklesh...and then I puked on myshelf, and I shtarted...shtarted...doin'...schtuff," Death vaguely gestured, his creaking bony hand waving in a circle. "I wash...schpinning my...schy...sy...big schickle...and he hit me with a...a...a WHIP!!!" Death broke down and cried, which was odd, seeing as he had neither eyeballs, nor tearducts. Hecubus burbled. "Say...the...the singer on the...the band thing... he's kinda...familiar," Nixon mentioned, pointing a shaky finger at the figure on stage. Said familiar singer was going through a series of increasingly odd and contortionist poses, singing brokenly all the while with odd punctuation. "It...'s [the] age! *Legs tucked behind head, standing on hands* of--...Aqu *Balanced on head, upside down, feet turned out, heels together*: ^it^... 's; THE _age_ [o]f? (A)qu----ar: ius...*Doing the Macarena at 6x speed*!" The crowd cheered and clapped wildly. The Shat, as he prefers to be called, I've heard, wrapped his arms around his neck two times, folded himself in half, and vanished in a burst of Star Trek memerobilia. The cheers easily escalated to three times the former volume, for not a single person had known that Willam Shatner was secretly a youma general. After the cheers at finding that our Captain was indeed not human, the bar quieted down quite a bit. It quieted down so much, in fact, that it was now noticed that several men in an odd combination of ninja and corporate attire had dropped from the rafters and landed directly behind the President. The leader, wearing a stylish forest green Armani suit and matching ninja mask was first to speak. "HAHA, wehave arrivedatlastohgreatmastersothatmemighteffectivelyserveyouinthe nameofFunk[*handjive*]andEVIL, HAHA." "G...g...good," Nixon replied, still drunk. A second ninja, this one in tasteful dark purple, piped up. "HAHA, sirwhatmustwedotoeffectivelyserveyouinthe nameofFunk[*handjive*]andEVIL, HAHA?" Nixon waved his hand at them. "Go get Brother Drac's...son...halfbreed...thing." A third, this one in burnt umber, seemed concerned. "HAHA, siryouseemtobedrunkoffyourasswhichisnotagoodstateto beinifyouaretoserveBrotherDracinthenameofFunk[*handjive*] andEVIL, HAHA." Nixon turned back to his drink. "Go and get... the...Alucard...thing." The fourth and fifth ninja-businessman-persons, in blue and plaid respectively, looked at each other and shrugged, turning to the rest of the group as they formed a circle. "HAHA, wearetheIRSNinjaAssassinDeathSquad, and inthenameofourgreatPresidentNixon,BrotherDracandFunk [*handjive*]andEVILingeneral,wewilldestroyAlucardthe thecursedhalf-breedsonofDraculawhosehumanandvampire natureseternallywarwitheachotherandwhostrugglestodo goodinthefaceofoverwhelmingevil, HAHA!!!" The author smiled evilly to himself, for getting back to continuity and giving our protagonists a sentai-like group of evildoers to battle. We needed a couple, anyway. Hey, it's the 70's, isn't it? `_^ `_^ `_^ `_^ `_^ Author's Note-type Narrative: or, in which there is some Self Insertion The door of the small room opened and a shadow slumped in. The figure tossed a couple of huge, slightly-glowing, heavily curved swords onto the floor and peeled off his trenchcoat, throwing it in some direction in which he'd hopefully find it later. He slumped down onto his bed, brushing a lock of silver-blue hair away from his red eyes. "Damn, I hope I get to do that again sometime!" he cheerily/exhaustedly shouted to no one in particular. "After nearly 48 hours with barely 5 asleep, a ton of Cherry Coke, and a few McDonald's cheeseburgers on the side, I've finally wrote for Improfanfic!" He promptly fell backwards, comatose. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note: or, in which there is NO Self Insertion Sorry, felt like doing something different. Wow, what can I say? Quite a rush, writing for this. I've done much, much more than my fair share of reading Impro, and after trying my hand at it, I can't wait to get into more. This Part, being it the Fourteenth of this Impro, is Hereby and Forthwith Compleat. No longer will the Authore, in his Egotism, continue to Extende and Prolonge his Note, being as it is Pointeless and Writtene in Pseudoe- Coloniale Englishe. You can reach me, Medius Laire, at sir_medius@att.net. Flame me! I DARE YOU! Well, not really. I don't think I could handle that. But I would like to know what you think about my writing. Was this part funny enough? Did I reuse running gags far too many times for my own good? Am I happy with this? Damn straight, I am. See you sometime else, all you crazy cats out there in ImproLand. `_^ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I am LURKER NO MORE!!!" the author screamed from the rooftop of his home at 3:00 in the morning. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ /ENDPART