The Author leaned back in his chair, sighed, stretched, and yawned, and smiled to himself. "Finally I got around to getting Jedi Knight. After almost two years." He scatched at his neck. "That lightsaber is *cool*..." He looked at the clock. "Eleven at night already? I was on that longer than I thought..." He suddenly frowned. "I have the strangest feeling there's something I have to do..." And then the penny dropped. "Uh oh... Girls With Guns, that's right, I have to finish Chapter 39 off..." ------------------------------------------------------------ Girls With Guns The Improbable Adventures of Improfanfic's Co-Mascots Chapter 39 - Two Stories Intertwined On An Ordinary Day (Or, "How I panicked and wrote whatever I could to finish SOMETHING by the deadline, don't shoot me please.") Scribbled out by Steven Scougall Girls With Guns created by David Kelk (dkelk@sympatico.ca) Hosted at Improfanfic (http://www.improfanfic.com/) ------------------------------------------------------------ "So, Plotty, how's things?" Plotty thought about the story he was driving, and sighed. Well, technically, as Plotty is an anthropomorphic representation of a metanarrative entity, he doesn't really have gender, and so should have been referred to as 'it'. But in English it's easier to refer to him as a he, so therefore he will be, and logic be damned. Where was I? Oh yes, Plotty was thinking about the story he was driving and had sighed at the thought of it. He followed this up by saying, "Well, now the story has the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, one Horseman-wannabe, and Debateable Joe. All added in one chapter, too, with complete disregard for pre-existing plot chapters." "Sounds tough," said another of the plots sitting around the table, and took a sip of its tea. (Yes, as this particular plot hasn't been introduced and turned into a major character it's easy to refer to it as an 'it'. The story, such as it is, may resume.) "Yeah," said Plotty. "And the Children of Chaos, which were supposed to be a major part of the story, were quickly and anticlimactically dealt with, and there's that weird business with every day being a Tuesday still hanging." There was a cheesy special effect, and the Author appeared, a sheaf of paper in his hands and a pencil between his teeth. "Hawrigh, Hlohhy, Harhhee's oher." "I can't understand a word you're saying." The Author spat out the pencil, put down the sheaf of paper, and tried again. "Alright, Plotty, party's over. We have chapter 39 to do." "Actually, it's a good thing you just showed up. I was just talking about how it's in a bit of a mess." "Hmmm," said the Author. He wrote in a glass of water (and lo, it appeared) and took a long draught from it. "It seems to me that you need to get your act together and be a bit more focussed. That is, instead of just introducing lots of stuff and hoping some will stick, introduce just one thing and concentrate on that for a while and properly finish it off." "That'd be easy if I had just one of you," said Plotty, with a hint of defiance and venom in his voice. "Look, I've just had an idea." He picked up the pencil and paper and started writing... * * * * * The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, hurrying down the alley they'd ducked into in an attempt to escape from the wrath of Becky and Aika, suddenly died and fell over. Aika prodded one of the bodies with her toe. "I wonder who they were?" "They're not important," said Becky, or perhaps Agent BA-3. "Those guys behind us are." "What?" Aika spun around and saw Boredeom and Debateable Joe. Three seconds later both were severely ventilated by lots of bullets. Then - * * * * * "No no NO!" shouted the Author, grabbing the pencil and paper from the plot's hands. "That's NOT how to do it. Writing them out of the story is good, but you have to write them out properly. There's no sensible reason for them to suddenly die and fall over, and Boredom was last written as hiding in the shadows." The Author looked thoughtful for a moment, then started writing. "THIS would be better..." * * * * * The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were worried. They'd been sent to find these two girls, but weren't quite sure why or what they were supposed to do next. Also, the two were certified homicidal maniacs, had at least two guns each, and were waving them threateningly as they charged down the alley. However, they WERE the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, with several nifty powers. Some of which were always in effect, whether they wanted them to be or not. This could sometimes be annoying, especially at parties. But when you're being attacked by two homicidal maniacs, it was quite useful. The two girls got closer, and - "I feel hungry," complained Becky, getting hit by Famine's power. "I feel grimy," whined Aika, as Pestilence's power affected her. "Yeah? I feel grimier than you," said Becky, succumbing to War's powers and becoming stupidly aggressive and angry. "Oh yeah?" screamed Aika. "Yeah!" Becky shouted back. The two blinked as they realised what they were saying. "Are we arguing with each other over who feels grimier?" asked Aika. "Yeah," said Becky. "Something's weird. Maybe it has something to do with those guys we saw come into here." "It has to be," opined Becky. "And they have to die for it." "Yeah, I'm going to shoot 'em up real good." A dangerous silence. What might have been a sarcastic whisper of "Oh yeah, good going War," floated by on the breeze. "Oh, you *are*?" asked Becky. "Yeah. Wanna make something of it?" "*I'm* going to kill them," said Becky. "Hmph, yeah right. As if I'll let you have all the fun." An even more dangerous silence than before occurred. This time it was broken by Debateable Joe, who had followed the two dangerous girls into the alley. He'd been listening to their exchange with some bemusement, wondering what it was all about. Unfortunately for him, he was also coming under War's 'make everyone around get angry in general' effect. "Excuse me, ladies, I would debate the idea that-" he started. It was the release the tension needed. The two girls, still unsure whether they really wanted to kill each other over who got to kill those weird people in cloaks, spun around to see a strange looking man approaching them. The anger that had been induced by War found a new target. *BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM* went the two girls' guns. *SPLUTCH* went what was left of Debateable Joe. * * * * * "No no NO!" shouted Plotty. "This is supposed to be a family story! Such graphic violence is completely inappropriate!" "No," said the Author, "graphic violence is when you describe the exact effect of the bullets on Joe as they hit, and his look of pain before his face is obliterated, that sort of thing." Plotty looked ill. "Oh, alright, we'll revise those last few lines," conceded the Author. "I get to edit them a bit, too..." * * * * * "Excuse me, ladies, I would debate the idea that-" Joe started, living up to his name. Unfortunately for him, it was the release the tension needed. The two girls spun around to see a strange looking man approaching them, wearing a badge upon which was inscribed maniacal laughter. They weren't sure if they really wanted to kill each other but had no such compunctions about weirdoes who wanted to debate things, so the anger that had been induced by War shifted to focus on the newcomer. *BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM*BLAM* went the two girls' guns. A few grenades went *BOOM* and Aika's rocket launcher went *BWHOOOOM* a couple of times. Needless to say, there wasn't that much left of Joe at all. * * * * * "Well... I suppose that's a *bit* better..." said Plotty doubtfully. "A shootout, especially with those two, is inherently violent," said the Author. "You can't get rid of the violence entirely. I'm not quite sure what you'd get if you tried to write a non-violent shootout." "Let me try..." said Plotty. * * * * * *BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP* * * * * * "You're right, it's impossible," said Plotty, sweat beading down his forehead. "You just get a big bleep. Anyway, so we've got rid of Joe, we still have those Four Horsemen to worry about. And another shootout, so soon after the last one, would be a bit boring and unoriginal." "Simple..." said the Author, and resumed writing. * * * * * War suddenly cocked his head to one side, as if listening to something really really quiet that was perched on his shoulder. His fellow Horsemen knew better, however, it meant he was hearing something really really loud really really far away. "What's up with you, War?" asked Famine. "War," said War. "In Africa. A BIIIIG one. War, famine, pestilence and death walk the streets. Metaphorically of course, because we aren't there yet. We're needed." "Around those two, there's lots of fighting and death," said Death doubtfully. "We're needed here too." "They only need two of us here, they need all four of us over there. Call the horses." A little further up the alley, Becky and Aika heard the sounds of galloping. They turned and saw four impressive horses galloping impressively upon impressive hooves, bearing down upon the two of them. "GET CLEAR!" screamed Becky, putting her Agent BA-3 training to good use by jumping eight feet straight up and grabbing a windowsill. Aika opened a coincidentally located door and ducked inside a building as the four horses thundered past. A few mintues later the four horses came past again, but as they were rising into the air their hooves weren't making a thunderous galloping noise. * * * * * "See?" asked the Author. "That'll hold them until at least the next chapter." "Well, what now?" asked Plotty. * * * * * Kamiversial Jack was delighted. Seeing that an old friend who had become his greatest enemy had died could have had something to do with his good mood. What really made him happy was that he was God and thus could do what he damn well liked with Debateable Joe. "Oh, Joe, have I got an afterlife plan for YOU," he said, rubbing his hands with glee and the promise of Controversy. Finally he had something to use that orange gorilla suit with pink and polka dots for. Kasumi looked concerned. "Are you sure this is wise, Jack-san?" Jack paled. He knew what that tone of voice meant. * * * * * "So what does it mean?" asked Plotty. "Beats me," said the Author. "This is called leaving-stuff-for-the- next-Author-to-handle. Much like the Four Horsemen were." "...right," said Plotty. "Okay," said the Author, "just let me check chapter -14." "Oh, the town meeting," said Plotty. "What do you want to read that for?" "So I can find out whose turn it is... er..." for the first time so far in the chapter, the author blushed and didn't come across as an annoying self-insert character. "You know, for the horizontal lambada, kinda thing." "Oh. It's a chapter ending with a 9, so it's Aki's turn." "It is?" The Author stopped going through past chapters. "Okay, then..." * * * * * "Woohoo!" yelled Riot of the Controversy Aki. "This is my chapter! This is my CHANCE!" "Aki, please, DON'T!" shouted Nemesis Serendipity Villyn. Aki took another step and Villyn's armour scraped across the floor. Aki rolled her eyes. "Dad, let go of my foot, please!" "If I do you'll go disgrace yourself and your family name!" "So, it's alright for you and Charity-san to do it but it isn't for me?" Villyn turned fifteen shades of red, all at the same time. Such was his embarassment his grip lightened. Ten seconds later Aki was out the door, and accelerating. Two minutes later she was hitting on a cute guy. "Oh woe is me," sobbed Villyn. * * * * * "I don't see why we need any of that at all," complained Plotty. "It just cheapens the entire thing." A spokesnymphomaniac for the Nymphomaniac Anti Defamation League chose this moment to enter the room. As is typical of members of the Nymphomaniac Anti Defamation League, she wasn't wearing much, and what she was wearing was very flimsy and left very little to the imagination. "Gak," said the Author, developed a nosebleed, and promptly passed out. Somehow, while he was passed out, the story kept on going. This might point to the existence of a Meta-Author, but we shall gloss over his existence and just continue to read the story, as that is much more fun than considering the nature of narrative space. "The Plot of Girls With Guns! I am here to complain!" she yelled. "Didn't you already?" he asked. "No, we were merely referenced. THIS is my official complaint!" She pulled a large stack of papers out of somewhere and dumped them in front of Plotty. He started looking through them. "These are all from Anniki!" exclaimed the plotling. "No, there are some from Aki, Sofixupia, and Kasumi as well. Plus there is a petition with at least two hundred signatures on it." "I am the PLOT!" he yelled. "It is MY story! I can do what I damn well please!" The spokesnymphomaniac pointed dramatically at the unconscious Author. The force of the dramatic movement was somehow enough to rip her blouse (such as it was) to shreds. The Author, who had been waking up, chanced a look and fainted again. All completely unnoticed by the spokesnymphomaniac, of course. "HE is the one writing it. When he's conscious, that is. HE can do what he damn well pleases with the story." She indicated the two hundred plus pages that was the official complaint. "Anyway, you had better read that." Much later, the spokesnymphomaniac had left, the Author finally regained consicousness, and Plotty was still going through the Official Complaint. ******************************************************************* MAGICAL GIRL DO-GOODERS Data File Entry #18-2a: Official Complaint Type: Legal Annoyance Components: Pages, Complaints Saving Throw: Throw seventeen dice. If all come up 1, there's an outside chance nothing will come of the Official Complaint. Otherwise, a Magical Restraining Order is coming your way. The Official Complaint brings to the notice of the recipient something that the sender is not happy about. In an official format, of course. It may be followed by a Magical Restraining Order. ******************************************************************* "Oh woe is me," wailed Plotty. "This Official Complaint may mean I have to lift that ban." "Uh... there there," said the Author. "Anyway, my time's almost up, I have to finish up..." * * * * * "So, what now?" asked Becky. "We never did work out that business with time, did we?" "Time?" "You know, it seemed to be Tuesday all the time. Something like that." A boy, wearing pants but no shirt, ran past them in a blind panic. He was screaming "GET HER AWAY! AWAY! AAAAAAAAAAAGGH!" as he went. Aki was hot in pursuit. "Come back! We haven't finished!" Becky and Aika sweatdropped. "Seems like any other day, really." "But is it just like any other Tuesday?" (TO BE CONTINUED) Author's note: Don't forget to finish Girls With Guns #39. Oh, wait, I've done that. Never mind that then. Author's post-chapter-rambling-about-stuff: Well, even though I didn't have that much time to do this (that stuff at the beginning about Dark Forces 2: Jedi Knight is true, BTW), I still enjoyed writing it. I just hope you liked it.