Furniture Warriors PART SEVENTEEN: Part Seventeen! or The Calm Before What Passes For The Storm (by Stefan Gagne) (Formerly) A Spoof Chase Production, now an ImproFanfic Production, thanks to ME for writing it in the first place, if you want to get technical... ^_^ (http://pixelscapes.com/improfanfic) -=- What hath transpired. A part was skipped, and for your entertainment (and to counter a recent wave of skips), a mini-part is now presented to tide you over until the next one. But that's outside the mystical fourth wall, so let's climb back in quietly through the window and try not to wake daddy. Basically, everything went wrong. Queen Radiance, in a cute yet bumbling effort to obtain dessert, annihilated all furniture in the empire and locked off FurnitureSpace. This would have called a screeching halt if not for one young furniture prodigy still having access... as well as three others, although nobody knows it yet. And somewhere, a clown cried. But that's besides the point. -=- That night, furniture warriors of all walks in life had one driving goal; get the hell out of Dodge. Sadly, no transportation was available. The bus line was controlled by Marlo's regime now (also known as The Regime Formerly Controlled By The Emperor) and they were too scared to let anybody go, after Marlo had shoved a sock drawer down the throat of the lead driver to make an example to the others that anybody who messes with his total control of the empire would have a sock drawer shoved down their throats to make further examples while confusing people with poorly constructed run-on sentences. In summary, nobody was going anywhere. Most went to bed. Some prayed to various gods. One went to get completely sloshed, but for a change, said drunk was not in a fuku. WELL, THISH ISH A FINE HOW-DO-YOU-DO, the Emperor slurred, his whiskey glass contents currently spilled around the bar. He drank the empty shotglass anyway, and slammed it down hard enough to dent the polished oak countertop. THOUGHT THINGSH WERE BAD WITH QUEEN RADIANCE TAKIN' OVER. NOW SOME.. SOME PUNK KID HAS MY KINGDOM. THISH.. THIS WOUDLN'T BE HAPPENING IN THE OLD DAYS. "Err, lord, haven't you had enough?" Dr. Pfisher asked, getting steadily concerned. "You remember what happened at the office Christmas party--" YOU KNOW, BACK THEN, WE DIDN'T HAVE TO, YOU KNOW, PLAN. WE'D JUST KILL PEOPLE. WHY DIDN'T WE JUST KILL EVERYBODY THIS TIME? WOULD'VE ELIMINATED A LOT OF PROBLEMS. NEVER LEARN, DO WE. ALL WE HADDA DO IS WHACK EVERYBODY 'N THEN BEAT IKEA AND LUMI, AND WE'D BE ABLE TO TAKE OVER THE EARTH, LOCK ALL THEIR FURNITURE AWAY AND RULE SUPREME FOR A MILLENNIUM. INSTEAD, WE'RE... WE.. TOTAL COCKUP, IS WHAT I'M SAYING. PASS THE HARD LIQUOR. "Ah.. lord, there is one option. It's not particularly evil, and you won't get to engage in a sophisticated plan of cruelty and deviousness, but--" LAY IT ON ME. I'M DESPERATE. "You won't like it, Lord." LAY IT ON ME OR I WILL BREAK YOUR SPINE IN SIX LOCATIONS. I'M STILL QUITE EVIL, YOU KNOW. I CAN DO THAT SORT OF THING. TO ALL THREE OF YOU, NO MATTER HOW BLURRY YOU TRY TO BECOME. And so the Doctor told the plan, and so the Emperor didn't like it, but fortunately he fell off his stool and went to sleep before said spine could be given a seriously poor chiropractor treatment. * Yoshi stood in the training hall, focused. He had been practicing for hours, ever since Marlo's announcement... to no avail. His speakers weren't available. So, being a flexible and wise person, he opted for the next best thing. With a flip of his arm, his partner hit the wall with a meaty THUNK, and slid slowly down. "You have to get more impact than that," Yoshi explained. "Curl yourself into a ball. That way, it's all concentrated into one blow." "...this job isn't worth what we're being paid," Tony groaned, his entire body a throbbing, pained, bruised substance. "How come *I* have to be the furniture? How about if at the fight, I throw you around at Marlo instead?" "The boy challenged me, not you. Only with teamwork can we stop this mad regime and get the tournament back on track," Yoshi explained, tightening his gloves. "Ever since the furniture armageddon, we've lost contact with Dr. Shockwave. Until we can get back with him and assemble a game plan, the only thing we can do is try to unseat Marlo ourselves." "Just let the kid have his fun," Tony complained, rubbing his head. "It can't hurt anything, right?" "If he defeats every willing fighter, Tony, he'll have won the tournament. And Queen Radiance may never be able to rebuild her kingdom, and Earth would be in serious jeopardy." "By this point I'm starting not to care. I would kill for an ice pack. That's not wrong, is it? To want a simple ice pack for my mild concussion? If only the refrigerators hadn't gone away..." "If we stop Marlo, you won't have to do this again," Yoshi said, stretching out. "Now let's practice our swinging body strikes." "Wait," Tony interrupted, before he could be picked up again. "What do you mean, 'if'? We WILL stop him, right? I mean.. you trained him, so you're his better, and-" "Nothing in life is predetermined," Yoshi replied. * "So you're saying Yarslov has this destiny?" Mick asked, enjoying a sandwich in the TV studio cafeteria with Yarslov's subconscious mind. "Sorta. It's, like, all confused and stuff because he's in the Empire and not on earth," the lanky surfer dude replied. "But it's all come true so far, so we figure it'll keep going that way." Mick nodded. A bit impatient, he glanced at his watch. "When will the silly willy Swede go to sleep? I have to get on with saving Sheila. Can't we induce him into taking a nap or something?" "No way, dude. That'd, like, unbalance the fragile cosmos of psychic power and destiny and space and time and his bladder and stuff." "...well, if there's nothing productive to do, I'm going to go practice," Mick said. "Once I get out of here, I'm going to have to have some rather pointed words with the Good Doctor. Preferably delivered at high speed and repetition." He nudged the plastic chair aside, and drew a bar stool, his favored training weapon; it had weight to it, good for muscle work, and good for being ready whenever someone has one beer too many or one hustle too many. Dream-Yarslov's eyes widened. "Whoa! How'd you do that?" "Eh? You just pull it out of the place where furniture comes from, boy. You're aware of this simple wimple fact of life, yes?" "Yeah, but.. dude, FurnitureSpace has been blocked off! Whoa. Maybe, 'cause like, you're here and stuff, it's all rewired or some crazy messed up stuff like that. Killer." "Yes, well, very interesting," Mick said, dismissing a very important plot point out of uninterested. "If you need me, I'll be in the cortex doing a few warm-up routines." * The rescue party had been about as successful as those guys who went into the woods outside Blair. Yarslov in particular was feeling down in the dumpskys. First there was the announcement that all the furniture was gone -- he couldn't draw his chair anymore. Then, the trail for Tony went dead. He'd been a slippery little guy, to the point of slipping out of their fingers like Soap on a Rope. Only, unlike Soap on a Rope, they didn't have, like, soap attached to their neck where they could find it or something like that, which could've been pretty helpful if you think about it. "We're getting nowhere," Leonardo said. "I, partners, am going to bed. Not that I have a bed to go to. Lord only knows what sleeping on the floor will do to me. If I don't get my nine hours of beauty sleep, I'm an absolute wreck the next day." "We can't stop now," Joanie rebutted. "I know the trail's gone cold, but.. look, she's CAPTIVE. Anything could happen. So the sooner we find her the safer it'll be. Right, Yarslov?" Yarslov blinked back fatigue. It was getting late, but.. "Yeah. Total agreeance, dudette. You can go back if you want, Lenny--" "Leonardo!" "--but we're still looking." "Oh? And how do you propose to do that?" Leonardo asked. "Display your cunning leadership for us, since clearly you disfavor mine. Will it be another Jedi Furniture Trick like last time? Got a crystal ball?" "I'm just gonna knock on doors and ask if anybody's seen Tony," Yarslov said. Leonardo smacked his forehead. "Ah, your original brilliant plan. I'll have no part of this waste of time. If you need me, I'll be in my room. Maybe you'll knock by accident and wake me." The dapper young lad turned on one heel (very appropriate for a heel) and walked off. "What a jerk," Joanie mumbled under her breath, giving her the Brooklyn Salute (one finger extended). "But he's got a point, Yarslov. I mean, just knocking--" Yarslov knocked on the nearest door. Otto Tickingclock, the jobber we had thought to be lost in the myriad of events, answered, holding a cold cloth to his face. "Yes, what is it? I have a rather large headache, lad, from lack of ticking, and I'm not in a mood for silliness.." "You seen Tony around lately?" Yarslov asked. "Yes, he was carrying a large bundle down to the basement earlier." "Thanks, dude." "Don't mention it. Please." The door closed. Yarslov grinned at Joanie.. whose jaw was, of course, on the floor. "Not too many doors in the basement. Let's go knocking. maybe we'll, like, get lucky again." * A vengeful spirit paced in front of her hostage, eyes burning like fire, hatred intense like the searing winds across a desert sky. Her revenge had finally arrived. All was ready. Unfortunately, the cool torture chamber she had designed went away when all the furniture vanished so she had to settle for locking Fifi in a closet, having no neat chains or tables or racks or anything to use. "It's rather stuffy in here," Fifi replied, muffled. "Shut up!" Rebecca snarled. "You'll stay in there until.. until you've had enough! I've had enough, I mean. You will pay for walking out on me all those years ago!" "Darling, please. The fashion industry is rather cut- throat, you knew that going into it. If I hadn't stolen your lingerie designs, someone else surely would have--" "This is about MORE than lingerie!" "Well, I'd hope so. Seems rather silly for it just to be about frilly underthings. What, was it me walking out on you after our wild affair?" Rebecca trembled in anger. "SHUT UP! I.. I don't need you. I never did! You weren't anything to me! You never loved me, and.. and..." "There's really no point in making me stay in here if you're not going to tell me what this is all about, darling." In a fury, Rebecca yanked the closet door open. "FIFI, If you hadn't--" WHOMP. Rebecca went down like a human body knocked unconscious by a very heavy high heeled shoe, which is in fact exactly what happened. Fifi frowned at the dent this had made, squeezed her foot back into it, and minced her way out of the empty room. * Up in the home office, at the top of Skull Mountain, in the very core of evil, the heart of the Ottoman Empire, Marlo was enjoying decorating his office. A desk here, a lamp there. Chair here. Hat racks. Filing cabinets. Giggling with glee, he pulled everything he could think of from FurnitureSpace, using his newfound mad skeelz. It got to the point where Miss Oeru had to climb over a stack of desks just to report to him. "Sir, all is as we predicted. The warriors are hidden away, frightened," she said. "I doubt many of them will want to stand up to you. Once you defeat the few foolish ones, the Earth is yours." "ROCKIN'!" Marlo explained. "This is great. Absolutely great! These little idiots kept thinking they were better than me, and now I'm gonna kick nine kinds of holy hell outta 'em!" "Not to mention take over the Earth." "Yeah yeah, there's that. I don't have any plans for it, but hey, total absolute ruler of all creation has a cool ring to it. And just think, only last month I was busy dusting my Soldier of Fortune collection in mom's basement!" "Well, sir, if you need any.. management help, I am a skilled Office Lady." "Sure sure, you handle the boring stuff. I'll just dominate," Marlo dismissed (making Miss Oeru very pleased, inside). "Boy, I'm glad I didn't give up this job just a minute ago." "What?" "Some visiting dude wanted me to run off and help him. I said no. He said he could find some other Marlo in a parallel universe who would, I said, like, whatever, you do that. Over and done." (This, of course, made no sense to Miss Oeru, and likely not to anybody else experiencing these chronicles, but all will be made clear soon elsewhere.) Marlo stood on his desk for height. "This is MY TIME, Miss Oeru. And tomorrow, after I lay the smack down on my old sensei, I'll clean up the rest, and we're ready for the big show! Fetch me a 'Surge'." "At once, sir." * Ikea trained. But that's not a surprise to anyone. What are the chances of Ikea skipping his training? How shallow is the ocean? How cold is the sun? Today, however, he was not simply training to improve his skills and techniques. He was working at improving them with a purpose. His sister was still missing, this young boy was threatening to win the tournament in a single blow, and he could feel negative energies swirling. He had to be prepared, for Lumi's sake, and possibly the sake of the world. If he couldn't master the Blazing Chair Inferno, all would be lost. Sweat stood out, as he had executed the move twice so far, severely draining his strength in the process. Skill was key; with skill, the fires of furniture fury would pass through him, a channel, a conduit. Without control, they would burn him as well, as they did now. The process would be long and hard. But Ikea was not the sort to complain. So, he continued. A knock at the door drew his attention away from practice. Being polite, he did not ignore it, and responded. Two figures stood, one very small, one very large. Ikea recognized them immediately, and waited for them to speak. The goon nudged his boss with an elbow, since he was hesitant to speak. I WISH TO FORM AN ALLIANCE, the Emperor stated meekly. Well, as meekly as one as loud and evil as he could manage. * In a secluded hideout... No, he didn't like to think of it as a hideout. Evil employs hideouts. Good employs secret headquarters, and Doctor Shockwave was firmly on the side of good. If the Queen could not be turned, and peace restored, all would be lost. It was a holy cause. And he would do anything it took to render that cause into being. True, this meant the occasional act which seemed 'evil', but it wasn't evil really since good was doing it. He had Shelly firmly in his mind control. He did not make her do tricks or play with her, since that was evil, she simply stood in the corner facing the wall while the Doctor worked on plans to turn Lumi back to her old self. Once Mick provided the information on how it was done, presumably the logic would be made clear to him for reversal. And if he failed, he could simply kill the girl and move on to Plan B. That was not evil. Because it was being done for good. The logic was sound. A knock at the door jarred his concentration. He set his laptop computer aside, and answered it, expecting Tony or Yoshi. "Hello, is Shelly here?" Yarslov asked. "...what are you doing here?" Doctor Shockwave asked before remembering that right after those words, usually a fight breaks out, which one did. Joanie shoved him aside, while Yarslov dashed into the room.. to find Shelly zombielike. He frowned. Frowned in a most serious way for a laid back guy like him. This was.. not.. cool. "Let her go," he said. No dudes, no 'like' or somethings. "...I'm afraid that is not an option," the Doctor said, rising to his feet. "But you can rest assured that she is an important part of a plan to restore peace and--" Joanie socked him again with precision, force, and speed. (After all, she wasn't born a furniture warrior, on growing up on the streets of Brooklyn tends to allow you to work with your hands a lot.) "Kiss this, pal. We don't care. We're taking her back." The Doctor said nothing, no dramatic speech; he simply hit the panic button on his computerized wrist monitor. Shelly span in place.. assuming an attack position. Eyes pupilless and blanked, which is a traditional visual cue for mind control. "Shelly?" Yarslov asked. "You ok--" And a sneaker embedded itself in his face. He staggered back, confused, not sure what to do as Shelly pressed the attack. He didn't want to hurt her, but he was gonna get his butt whipped if she didn't do something... So he did something. On instinct. He tapped FurnitureSpace. Shelly's left foot connected with the middle of a steel reinforced pool cue, which Yarslov had held expertly in two hands. "...huh!?" he asked, not quite knowing how that got there. He was going for his old standby, a folding beach chair.. but any port in a storm. Trying not to think about it (an easy thing for someone like him) he just let the cue flow, twisting and turning, blocking strike after strike, the defensive combo ending with a black 8-Ball bonking off Shelly's head lightly, knocking her out clean. Pretty proud of himself, he looked back to see Joanie's reaction. But she wasn't reacting, because somewhere in the meelee, Shockwave had also laid her out flat. "An impressive show," the Doctor said, holding his armguard out -- the satellite latching an electrical pulse onto Yarslov, paralyzing him. "But this is too important to let go. I will retreat for now, in respect of your skill. But bring the one known as Mick here tomorrow with the information I require, or I will have to kill her. It is an unfortunate situation, but I will do as I must to save the Queen's reign..." Yarslov tried to respond with something fierce and one- linerish, but couldn't move.. the Doctor picked Shelly up, and walked backwards, slowly... just as a portal, a blinding white disc snapped into being behind him. He quickly dashed through. The paralysis cut out. Yarslov went on autopilot, grabbing Joanie, and DIVING for the portal-- Normally, when the villain retreats and the hero is trying to make that last ditch leap for the shortcut he used, it doesn't work. The portal vanishes, or it knocks him back, or whatever. Yarslov's life had never really been normal and didn't look to become normal any time soon, and he found himself dumped unceremoniously into the Empire of Light. Shaking his head to clear it, he looked around... no Doctor, no Shelly. Joanie was with him. The portal was gone. And the landscape... The landscape was dismal. Temples, city squares, buildings all in ruin. No population to speak of. The sun was even dimmed. "...I don't think we're in, like, Kansas anymore or something," he said quietly. * ------------------------- END PART SEVENTEEN! Stay tuned for more Furniture Warriors! In the next episode: Ikea keeps training -- with the Emperor?! Queen Radiance finally returns on the scene, and boy, she's not a happy camper! Marlo is STILL talking like The Rock -- and he'll fight Yoshi, too! There might even be sideways anal insertion! Yarslov's adventures in Queen Radiance's kingdom? Where will it all end? WHERE WILL IT ALL END!? (Will it ever end?) Part 18: The Flaming Avacado of Doom! HUMOR! CHAOS! NO TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION! FURNITURE! In the next installment of Furniture Warriors, written by John Evans! Author's Notes : The little thing with Marlo and his mystery guest is awkward, but please, trust me. And don't do anything with it in FW's plot. ^_^; I hope this was entertaining. I figured with the skip, I'd volunteer, Jake was cool with it, and here we are. Can't wait to see where this goes!