Furniture Warriors Episode X: Nightlight Fright! -or- Is That an Evil Lightbulb in your Pocket? A joint effort between the mighty SPOOF CHASE and the upstart IMPROFANFIC (http://www.pixelscapes.com/improfanfic) A Furniture Warriors ImproFanfic created by Stefan "Twoflower" Gagne This chapter written by Brian Stricklin, an author with waaaaaay too many ideas and not enough drive to write 'em all. (All characters copyright Nihana-san, obviously. If I ever even considered claiming that these were my own characters I'd probably be thrown into a small cell where I'd be forced to eat my own Nuku Nuku tapes to live.) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = THE STORY SO FAR, MORE OR LESS Once upon a time, there was an ancient martial arts form in Tibet that specialized in the combat aspects of household objects. The heroic but poorly-paid Furniture Warriors were expected to fight against the evil Ottoman Empire every thousand years or so. Sorta like beating back a particularly annoying version of the Y2K bug. Anyway, it's that time again, but the Empire seems to have gained the upper hand at the moment... LAST WEEK ON E.R. People died. LAST WEEK ON FURNITURE WARRIORS Hugh smiled darkly with Villain Grin #45-A ( "Oh, we'll capitulate, alright..." ) and motioned to the darkness covering most of the training room. "Can't you tell, Ikea-kun? She's already here!" Out of the shadows stepped another figure. A short, cute figure in a maroon Big Tibetan Furniture Warriors robe, a backpack, and two black light bulbs strapped to her head with a headband. "Wai! I'm evil now, oniichan!" Shadow Lumi said cheerfully. "Isn't that sugoi?" = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = "Hugh, you scum-sucking weasel! What have you done with her?! Lumi-chan, it's me! Ikea! Don't you recognize me? Lumi- chaaaaaaaan!" This is almost certainly what Ikea would have said, if it weren't for the fact that he was the poster boy for self- restraint. It would have been wrong anyway, since Shadow Lumi obviously recognized him, but that's a moot point. Instead, his eyebrow raised infinitesimally, dramatically transforming his expression from Cool Righteousness into one of Cool yet Determined to Rescue his Sister from the Clutches of Evil Righteousness (expression #72 - collect them all!). "Lumi-chan, you are not evil." She stomped her foot cutely. "Ano! I am SO!" "But you are not." "Am so, am so! Look, look! Lumi-chan has eeeeeevil black lightbulbs," she said, waving the proof of her evilness around. "And I have... um..." She blinked, patting down her pockets, or rather where her pockets would be if the traditional Tibetan robes had any. "Ano... I don't have any more proof, but... I'm just evil, okay?" Ikea turned his attention to Hugh, who was nursing a bottle of Frappucino and contriving to look smug. "Why have you done this? I assure you that it will not delay your inevitable demise for besmirching the honor of our dojo and indeed betraying the human race." Hugh shrugged, an action which, considering his taste in clothing coloration, tended to give anyone watching him seasickness. Fortunately Ikea was made of sterner stuff. "Trust me, I'm looking forward to ripping you apart and eating your intestines in a light garlic sauce. And if it'd been up to me, I would have just kept her hostage or thrown the hyperactive rugrat in a giant blender or something. This," he added, indicating Lumi-chan and her evil headband, "is the Emperor's doing... and if it annoys you, it's fine by me." Shadow Lumi waved her arms madly. "Wai! Hugh-kun, you're so menacing!" Ikea's eyebrow twitched slightly. So did Hugh's, almost in unison. Finally Ikea cleared his throat. "So what happens now? I would presume that I must fight Lumi-chan, so that you may demonstrate her new powers and torment me with deep feelings of angst caused by battling my own sister?" "That's traditional," Hugh agreed, "but I'm missing Red Dwarf for this, so let's just take the angst as read, if that's okay?" Besides, he added privately, the Emperor might have taken a shine to Lumi-chan, but Hugh knew her well enough to realize that she was more dangerous to her allies than to her opponents. Ikea simply nodded. "The angst has been duly noted." "Fine. Shadow Lumi, Fifi's got a new outfit for you, as befits your new status as the Bride of Evil." She blinked audibly (an impressive maneuver only possible due to a momentary sound-amplification effect that passed through the room). "Is that what I am?" "Not really, but it sounds impressive, doesn't it? Anyway, get going. I'll see you later." Before Ikea could react, Hugh vanished into a Swirling Dark Portal of Darkly Swirling Darkness, which also vanished. Shadow Lumi waved to Ikea cheerfully. "Bye, oniichan! You should be evil, too - it's fun!" She threw a black lightbulb on the floor at her feet and disappeared in a flash of dark fire, though the effect was rather spoiled when she set her shoes ablaze in the process and ran from the room, shrieking in panic. Ikea, his veneer of utter composure sorely tested by this turn of events, gathered his last ounce of willpower to remain calm. Yes, utter calm, as perfect and unblemished as a newly- polished mahogany desk. Still, his warrior soul had undeniably been shaken. "This bodes of bodingness," he said quietly to himself. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Shadow Lumi, having doused her footwear, skipped happily along the hallway toward the current domicile of Fifi-the- scantily-clad. Not that she knew what 'domicile' meant. And she was dimly aware that skipping wasn't a particularly evil activity, but she'd tried stalking, sidling, and lurking, and she'd only managed to get tangled up in her own legs. Maybe Hugh-kun could teach her how. She'd never realized how neat being evil was! She was so glad that the little weirdo in the white coat had shown her that kawaii movie. Admittedly, she hadn't done anything evil *yet*, but she was evil, sure enough. Evil. Evil, evil, evil. Evil as the day was long. Except it was night-time, and she was just as evil at night as she was during the day. Which was a lot. "All right, you! I've had enough of you weirdos!" She stopped, the unexpected challenge interrupting her train of thought about how totally and despicably... well. You know. "Ano..." The crazed teenager, badly mangled and heavily bandaged due to his various encounters over the last few days, climbed out into view from his hiding place within an ice machine. "I'm gonna beat you up, and then they'll have to let me in the tournament! I don't care how long it takes me, I'm gonna trash one of you furniture-obsessed losers if it kills me!" Shadow Lumi clapped enthusiastically. "Wai! It's good to have goals! What do you fight with?" "My PIKE!" "A fish? Well, that's kinda weird, but I guess it'll work." "No, not a fish. A pike. You know. A halberd, polearm, glaive-guisarme... that kind of thing." Noticing her clueless expression - like she had any other - he pulled his current weapon of choice from the frozen water dispenser, which all things considered was a good trick. "See?" Shadow Lumi scowled. "Ano! That's dumb! Who in their right mind uses something like that?" "Actually, the polearm has a long and intricate history, including..." The youth blinked and pulled himself back into character. "SHUT UP! Now I'm gonna... why are you smiling?" "Because now I get to try out being really evil at someone!" She pulled three energy-wasting darkly evil lightbulbs from her robes. "SHADOWY NIGHTLIGHT FRIGHT!" She tossed them at him, and they exploded around him, sending him careening down the hallway. Shadow Lumi bounced happily. "Gosh! That was fun! Ikea- oniichan doesn't know what he's missing." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- As Shadow Lumi traipsed toward her destination, two figures watched her on the hotel's security monitors. After a moment, the larger one spoke. IMPRESSIVE. AND TO THINK THAT, AFTER HEARING YOUR PLAN, I WAS ALL SET TO VAPORIZE YOU WHEN IT DIDN'T WORK. "Of course it worked! I'm a genius, aren't I?" THAT'S OPEN TO DEBATE. BUT I MUST ADMIT, I WAS EXPECTING... He waved his hand vaguely. OH, SUBLIMINAL MESSAGES, MIND CONTROL BEAMS, TELEPATHIC BRAINWASHING... THAT SORT OF THING. Dr. Pfischer pushed up his glasses with a fingertip, which he kept in his shirt pocket for just such an occasion. "Hardly necessary. Given her mentality, I calculated that dubbing evil messages over The Barney Movie was all it would take." *BADLY* DUBBING, Emperor Ottoman corrected him. PERSONALLY, I THOUGHT 'I LOVE YOU/YOU LOVE ME/LET'S EXPLORE THE DARK NATURE OF THE HUMAN SOUL AND INDULGE IN DEPRA-VI-TY' WAS OVER THE TOP, BUT I CAN'T ARGUE WITH THE RESULTS. He leaned foward and peered at the monitors with interest. CAN WE GET RED DWARF ON THESE THINGS? -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Three female figures (one vaguely so, one undeniably so, and one who would flatten you if you mentioned it) slouched together at the bar. They were all so deep in their cups that they couldn't even remember how they ended up in that state, or indeed how to form complete sentences. A particularly observant observer might guess that the tavern around them had been the scene of a major brawl mere hours before, involving desks, copious amounts of ice, and screams of pain. "Shtupid men," Frigidare Fifi sloshed in a fit of depression, adding more ice to her bourbon. "Right when shings're jusht goin' my way, he kidnapsh me and turnsh me into a monshter." "Stupid men," Shelly grumbled, knocking back another swig of tequila. Fortunately the bars in the Hotel of Evil didn't pay attention to minors drinking, except to offer them another round. "He runs off on my mom an' doesn't pay child support, and then he asksksks me out onna date, then he keeps interefereeing with th' date an' acts like I won't see through 'im." This managed to filter through Joanie nee Fifi's drunken stupor. "He did all that?" "'Course!" She blinked. "Whoah." "St-stupid men," the third figure muttered into her seventeenth gin-and-tonic. "Makes me f-fall in love with 'im, then he st-steals my linjerry designs and s-sells 'em off, then he goes an'... an'..." She began to sniffle, until Shelly draped a companionable arm over her shoulder, which took three or four tries given the current state of her manual dexterity. "Cheer up!" she said in a brief fit of affability, which she certainly couldn't spell at this point. "We don' need no stinkin' men! Fr'm now on 's just me, you," she draped her other arm over the blocky form next to her, "an' Joanififi." Rebecca sniffled again. "You're so nice t'me..." "An' we'll beat 'em up," Shelly swore, not really listening. "All th' stupid men. We'll beat 'em ALL up!" Wisely, the bartender slipped into the backroom and made his escape. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Slightly charred and severely peeved, the psychotic young man staggered along the corridor, feeling (unsurprisingly) like a badly-beaten dead horse. Where had he gone wrong? He'd tried his gun, machete, *two* grenades, a flamethrower, and a non-piscine pike. All of them were clearly better weapons to use than chairs and toilets and stuff, just for the fact that they *were* weapons. But he'd gotten his butt kicked - continuously and ridiculously. Well, he'd just have to go back to the High Caliber and Sharp Pointy Object Boutique he'd found off the lobby. They had a nuclear accelerator he'd been wanting to try out... He stopped as a pair of voices penetrated his musings. "So he wants one of us to fight Brunhilda, huh?" "So it would seem." He threw himself toward a broom closet, so he could attack them from ambush. One last chance! He'd show these losers that... Funny thing about broom closets. You have to open their doors before you can hide inside. Yoshi and Tony (not their real names) stopped their aimless meandering as they noticed the crumbled heap of humanity lying on the floor. "What the..." Tony lifted the youth's head. "Oh, this guy again." "That's right," he groaned, staggering to his feet. "And I'll get you this time! I got... I got..." He fell against the wall, sliding slowly downwards. "I gotta headache..." The two mysterious Furniture Warriors exchanged glances, then Yoshi peered at the young man. "What is your name, anyway?" "Marlo." He glared weakly at Yoshi, as if daring him to make something of it, you think you're so tough, at least I don't have a goober name like *you* do. "I see." Yoshi seemed bishounenly contemplative for a moment, causing a passing maid to swoon helplessly. "If you happen to tire of these self-destructive antics and can choose an appropriate weapon, I might consider teaching you the meaning of being a true Furniture Warrior." "Whu... me? Try to hit people with tables and stuff?" Marlo sneered, but stopped - it hurt too much. "Find someone who cares." "As you wish. The offer will remain open." With that, Yoshi stepped over Marlo's recumbent form and continues his journey - Tony soon followed suit. Not that Yoshi was wearing a suit, but you get the idea. "Are you sure about this? Offering to train such a pathetic loser?" "That much tenacity should not be wasted," Yoshi replied cryptically. "Besides... I trained *you*, didn't I?" -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Yarslov was, yet again, asleep, this time tucked into a bed of the hotel's medical ward. He felt fine, except for a bit of a headache; he was considerably more used to shaking off the effects of being pummeled by girls than, say, Leonardo DiMario, who still had an oak drawer imbedded in his skull. (Mick, on the other hand, had been released with a clean bill of health almost immediately.) And since he was asleep, he was watching the Yarslov show, which this time was showing a totally froody show, even though it wasn't about him this time. "Yo, dude. Dude!" Yarslov was slightly disappointed as Yarslov appeared on the TV screen. "Dude, what'dja do that for? I was, like, watching Red Dwarf." "You already saw it. You're asleep now, remember?" "Oh, yeah! Didn't mean to rag on ya. Hey, that Rimmer's a real dickweed, isn't he?" "Dude, I am so TOTALLY behind you on that!" "Cool. So, what's up, my man?" "Huh?" Yarslov-the-reporter looked blank for a moment. "Oh! Dude, we've got this totally radical psyyyyychic meeeeessage coming through to us!" "No way!" The man in the TV nodded enthusiastically. "Yes way! And here she is now, bearer of mystic news and a total betty besides... uh... Mysterious Psychic Chick!" Yarslov leaned forward with interest. This was fascinating, a riddle wrapped in an enigma... or, in his own words, tubular. Stumbling a little as she was pushed into the camera of Yarslov's REM state, the girl was, he had to admit, pretty darn cute. With silver hair streaming down to her shoulders, a little pair of wire-rimmed glasses on her nose, and a very thin and gauzy white gown, she was a complete and utter babe. A Babeasaurus. Babezilla. Babelicious. A real babe-o-rama. A... She blushed pinkly, which is better than blushing greenly, let me tell you. "Um... excuse me... I can hear what you're thinking." "Oh. Dude. Sorry." She watched him a moment, then pensively turned her attention to someone offscreen - he noticed what looked like a bookcase, complete with thick hardcovers, strapped across her back. "Are, are you sure I have to do this? I hate to interrupt his rest..." There was a pause. "Yes, I know he's the only with enough... no, I'm not saying that at all, it's just that... Well, if you insist." Yarslov watched this one-sided exchange with interest. Not a single speck of comprehension, but loads of interest. The Mysterious Psychic Chick looked at Yarslov again. "Um... hello." He waved cheerfully. "Yo. Hey, I've never had guest speakers in my dreams. This is, like, awesome and stuff." "If... if you say so. Usually we don't like to make personal appearances, but this time we-" A red-gloved hand reached into the shot and smacked the back of the MPC's head. "Oh. Um. I have a dire message for you." "Bogus." "I think so. Um. Your friend's little sister has been taken over by evil forces. He will need your help to rescue her, but you must avoid She Who Hurls Pillows - her power is great. Oh, and someone will stub their toe." "Whoah. That's, like, totally uncool! Lumi-chan's been turned to like evil and stuff? No way! Uh, but I already knew about that last part." She beamed. "That's nice. And you should also avoid the salmon in the cafeteria tomorrow - it's spoiled." "Gnarly. Well, thanks for the warnings, Mysterious Psychic Chick!" "Not at all. I'm glad to have-" She seemed to be interrupted again from offscreen. "Really? But he does look so tired - are you sure I should... Well, that's true, of course. Um. There is one last warning." "Yeah?" "You need to wake up right now. Um. You're about to be assassinated." He blinked in surprise. "Like, what?" "Oh, dear." She pulled a book from behind her, a five hundred page manual entitled 'How To Cure Insomnia'. "I do apologize for this, but it's really the only way." With that, she hurled the massive tome through the screen, and it continued on to bounce off Yarslov's skull with pinpoint accuracy. Startled awake, he sat up in his hospital bed, a fraction of a second before a razor-edged palette sliced into his pillow. There was a curse from the darkness, and the sounds of footsteps retreating. "I'll get you next time, surfer boy! And your little chair, too!" Yarslov jumped to his feet. "Hugh, you buttmunch! You're toast!" He raced out after the technicolor ninja, leaving behind the happily burbling form of Leonardo DiMario, who was safely strapped to his bed. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- In the wee hours of the morning, Shadow Lumi finally made it to Fifi l'Enfer's room. She would have been there sooner, but she'd had to stop and get something to eat, then ransack a vending machine of all its contents, then take a nap, then visit the Little Evil Girl's room, then find a janitor to ask him directions, then beat him up because he didn't know, then take another nap, then go to the lobby to get better directions, then run up seventeen flights of stairs because she didn't like the music in the elevator. As she reached the door, totally unfazed by her herculean climbing effort, she stopped just outside, but not before she heard a voice from within. "Oh, Rebecca... I knew you couldn't stay mad at me. Yes, I forgive you for all those mean things you said. Let's just put all that behind us... oh, you're so bold! Yes, I thought you'd like them... mmm, just touch them... like that..." In the old days, Lumi-chan would have knocked before entering. But now that she was... no, that's a lie. Even Lumi Classic hadn't had much patience for knocking, especially if there sounded like something interesting was going on inside. As the door was blown off its hinges by an evil lightbulb, Fifi hastily and guiltily covered up what she was doing; the pillow she'd been cuddling fell to the floor. "What the hell? Oh, you. The lightbulb girl." "Ano! My name is Shadow Lumi now! I'm eeeeeeeeeevil!" "Yes, yes, I'm sure you are." Fifi sat up, readjusting her lingerie. "I was expecting you hours ago, but... never mind. We need to make you a new costume, don't we?" Shadow Lumi raced around the room in excitement; Fifi took that opportunity to kick a few... oddly-shaped battery-powered items under the bed. "Wai wai! Shadow Lumi-chan gets a new wardrobe!" "And after that," Fifi purred, "Emperor Ottoman has something for you." The girl's headband-placed lightbulbs lit up, though since they were black bulbs they actually made the room somewhat darker. "More ice cream?" "Oh, something much better than ice cream." She smiled a secret smile. "Muuuuuch better." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The night, ridiculously crammed with plot elements to begin with, finally drew to a close and everyone got sufficient rest and a nice healthy breakfast. Except Shadow Lumi, who had three. Hugh's customary speech, which was a bit less sleep-inducing due to his unusually good mood, was heard by quite a few less people than normal. Except for Sophia, who was down in the ring of the Zen Room waiting for her opponent and sharpening her sofa, none of Emperor Ottoman's inner circle were present - including Shadow Lumi, which was just as well. In addition, Shelly and that Rebecca girl were absent, as was Leonardo diMario. If it weren't for the horde of faceless Furniture Warriors around them, the arena would be almost empty. "...and the Peruvian Battle Llama Brigade successfully fought back their rival clan, the Sheep-Worriers. In that spirit, let us get to our match." [Insert obligatory cheers and cries of gratitude that Hugh's speech was over.] "Yes, thank you, thank you. Unfortunately, the rematch between Shelly Thompson and Mistress Aquamarine will be postponed, since both competitors are still... recuperating." Of course, in Shelly's case this was a rather genteel term for 'riding out the worst hangover of her life'. "Instead, the match this morning will be between Sophia Bleucher of the Hammelburg Institute for Social Correction and Interior Design..." Sophia waved her sofa confidently, its utilitarian black fabric sucking at the eye like a tornado at a trailer park. "...and... er..." Hugh peered at the card. "Yoshi." The door of the Zen Room (which was not a door - it was ajar) swung open, and the two most mysterious Furniture Warriors (except maybe Mysterious Lava-Lamp Al) strode in. They strode well, having had plenty of practice. Hugh, still a bit disconcerted at the lack of any more information on Sofia's opponent, shouted "Let the fight begin!" Without a word, Yoshi stepped into the ring, Tony taking a seat at ringside after pushing a snoozing faceless warrior out of his chair. His black-haired companion watched Sofia patiently, giving the impression that he had better things to do. Sofia was unimpressed. "Hah! You are beink foolish to face me! I vill *crush* you vith mine little pinkie toe!" Her opponent, far too bishounen to react to her taunting or respond in kind, simply stood with an air of relaxed readiness that made even Ikea envious. The German behemoth didn't notice. "Now I will BREAK you!" She leaped into the air, and as she raised her sofa above her head, three more appeared from Furniture Space and stacked themselves on top of it, greatly increasing the weight focussed on her feet (like that was possible) as she plummeted toward Yoshi. "TEUTONIC TRAMPLE!" She slammed into the floor, the shockwave thus generated shaking loose one of Hugh's fillings, and Yoshi... ...wasn't there. Faster than anyone had noticed, he'd moved to the other side of the ring. "Are you finished yet?" "Nein! I vill destroy you utterly!" She charged, swinging her sofa around like... oh, heck, there just isn't a good metaphor for something like that, is there? He sighed and flipped his hair back. "Have it your way... I suppose it's my turn now." Stepping into a battle stance, a set of four high-quality amps appeared around him, all coincidentally set to focus on the stampeding heifer. A microphone appeared in his hand, and for once in the tournament an attack wasn't shouted - it was sung. "ACOUSTIC-KENNNNNNN!" The sound waves struck Sofia with an almost physical force, throwing her backwards to impact with a brass plaque reading "This is the Zen Room/This is not the Zen Room". -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Miss Oeru, waiting outside Emperor Ottoman's quarters in the caverns below the hotel, watched the match tensely and tried to ignore the shouts of intense male pleasure emerging from the door behind her. *He's not going to like this,* she thought to himself. *If Sofia gets defeated, that will be two champions in a row...* The door opened, and Ottoman walked out, a towel wrapped around his waist. WOW, THEY AREN'T KIDDING. THAT HERBAL ESSENCES STUFF IS *DARN* GOOD SHAMPOO! When he didn't get a response, he looked over at Oeru. HOW'S THE MATCH GOING? He peered over her shoulder, trying to see what was going on. "Well, it could be better. This Yoshi person is better than hack ack argh guh?" The Emperor's voice was always one of thunder and doom. But this time, Oeru dangling by the neck from his hand, he probably meant it. WHOSE BRIGHT IDEA WAS IT TO INVITE *HIM*?! "Glack agg..." He dropped her. "Uhhhh... *wheeze*... he was on one of the bus's off-dimension stops. As I understand it, he was waiting when the bus arrived, so..." She stopped as Ottoman's eyes blazed crimson. "Uh... Hugh did it." THAT *IDIOT*! THIS COULD RUIN EVERYTHING! HE COULD... The Emperor closed his eyes. WAIT... WAIT... CALM... FIND A HAPPY PLACE... FIND A HAPPY... OKAY. I'M BETTER NOW. He looked at the monitors again. TURN THOSE OFF, THEN LEAVE ME. "But don't you want to see if..." OH, HE'LL WIN. THERE'S NO QUESTION OF THAT. BUT I HAVE BUSINESS TO ATTEND TO. As the frightened office lady scampered out, Ottoman glanced into the shadows. JAN. Appearing from nowhere, a huge bald man in Buddhist robes knelt before the Emperor, an equally huge stone table tied to his back. KEN. A rather pretty young man, mirror and comb in hand, straightened up from the cavern wall as if he'd been there all along, and twirled a giant pair of steel shears in his hands. PON. There was a flash of light, and a cute little girl dressed much like Miss Oeru appeared, perched atop a photocopier. IT LOOKS LIKE I'LL NEED YOUR SERVICES SOONER THAN EXPECTED, the Emperor explained, and the three warriors smiled in anticipation. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = END PART TEN! Stay tuned for more Furniture Warriors Part Eleven: Rock! Scissors! Mayhem! HUMOR! GOOD! EVIL! NAUGHTINESS! INSANITY! FURNITURE! In the next installment of Furniture Warriors, written by its honorable administrator... Jake Wallace! [loud cheers and huzzahs!] Any comments and so forth, please send 'em to orgg@ix.netcom.com - my computer has decided that it hates the ImproFanfic Message Board, and crashes when I ask it to read a message. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!