Okay. It's been what, MONTHS already? Time to end this thing. References? Check. Coauthor assistance? Check. Lack of complete care for plot consistency? Check. Body count? Check. Ideas? ... Ideas? *whistles innocently* Ahem... [IDEAS?] ... Screw it. Fly by the seat of my pants then. * * * * GIRLS WITH GUNS, or how you too can learn ego-stroking is fun and erotic. Started by David Kelk, so go bug him at dkelk@sympatico.ca or something. Done in with Extreme Prejudice by Lirazel and Kenji Murasaki Episode 67 Final Act: The Show's Over. GO HOME! * * * * The Beach. A place of peace. A place of love. A place of hot sex under the sunlight as the waves crash against your feet, but that's not the point. "Ami-chan, what if we get caught?" Well... okay it is. "Don't worry so much," she cooed, and tickled his thigh. "My brother won't be back for another two hours. That's PLENTY of time." Maki grinned sheepishly. "Oh yeah, it's time enough, I guess." Insert heated necking here, at least until they get run over by a crowd chasing a pervert. "Hakuchi Henchi, get back here with our bikinis!" the bloodthirsty crowd screamed. "NEVER! GROPE OR DIE!" the college boy's cry echoed over the beachside. Maki twitched in his new hole in the sand. "Maki-kun! Are you okay?" "Just... fine." He struggled to get up, the promise of nookie goading him on. At least until he was pushed? deeper into the hole by yetanother group of Angry Women. Well, two angry women, but with that much firepower in such small skirts, it's hard to distinguish two girls with guns from an entire army of Angry Women. "They're around here somewhere," the blonde said. Her companion nodded, then noticed something squishy underfoot. She removed her foot, then noticed someone getting a view of something they really shouldn't have. So she replaced the view of her pristine white cotton panties for the interior of her Smith and Wesson. "Before I end your miserable life, you seen anything around here remotely strange?" "Well, I've never seen a girl hide a clip in her--" *BLAM* "... You killed Touji." The girl murmured. "... CUT! MAKEUP!" All three girls blinked as a crew came onto the beach and did crew-like things. "What in Cthulu's sock drawer do you think you're doing to my movie?!" the director screamed. "Like I care," the girl responded, then turned to her companion. "We need to find those goofs already and end this damn chase." "You mean them?" Aika answered, pointed to the four Daemons badly disguised as Dan Hibiki fans. "I +olD j0 tHiS WonD woRk11!" The smallest, disfigured one said. "Shut up and run," the playboy-like one answered. They all ran. Aika and Becky gave chase, guns blazing like a live miniature of the HeavyArms Gundam at the four scourges to decent, sensible writing. I guess you're all wondering by now how they got to all of this? Lemme show you... * * * * The two had originally been on another beach stuck with two of the five daemons, with two more, but they didn't know about them yet. A lot of cursing and screaming and stray shots went off until the other two broke in the cabin the two girls were at (see last semi-pr0n scene, 66 Act 3), grabbed their companions, and hauled ass through a Convenient Plot Hole. What, you thought we were going to actually put up a scene for that? Anyway, here's where they wound up... * * * * The deadly silence filling the deserted corridors of the prison/bunker/lab was only accentuated by the ghastly sound of Dr. Ichida Soujiro's choked- off screams. Soshi, for once, was uncertain of what to do. Should he attempt to rescue the doctor, and thus anger Morrigan/Macha? Or should he permit this dreadful thing to continue (which would be only justice, in a way), and perhaps gain some measure of control over what he now sensed was an elemental force? Behind him he heard the sound he had been dreading. "Soshi-kun?" It was Akari's whisper. No choice now. Akari and the others must be protected. Soshi shut his eyes, preparing to-- "Cut! Miss Andrews, what in merry hell is going ON back there!" The hand grasping Ichida's throat relaxed, and he rubbed his neck gingerly. "Dammit, Agatha, you don't have to be quite so enthusiastic, okay? I'm perfectly capable of choking without additional help." "Isn't that the truth?" And a tall, grubby-looking yet glamorous woman, with hair dyed an unlikely shade of red, leaned seductively against the door-jamb. "Listen, dear, I've been doing nothing for the past five episodes besides rubbing my fingers to the bone on the bedposts and letting small, sinister smirks play across my features. With an occasional scream thrown in, entirely on the basis of my contract. You think I'm giving up the chance to do some *acting*, you've got another think coming." Soshi sighed and looked back to where Akari and Shuukou were still draped around each other. "If you two could stop feeling each other up for a minute, we could go out and grab a cigarette." Shuukou giggled and began to speak, but her remark was drowned out by the crashing sounds that were getting louder and louder. Shouts of "Hey! You can't go in there!" and "Watch out!" and "Call Security!" were likewise overwhelmed by the sounds of splintering wood, breaking glass, and-- gunshots? Suddenly, a closed door in the set banged open so abruptly that the hinges ripped out and the thing fell over onto the floor. Immediately behind it, tumbling out of the way as fast as he could, was Kenji--moving surprisingly well for someone whose face was caked with dried blood, and whose upper body appeared to be a mass of bruises and lashmarks. "What the FSCK is going on here?!?" he yelled, scrambling in a half-crouch across the floor. Behind him, a writhing mass of figures could barely be discerned through a cloud of plaster dust. Another door opened and Judou thrust his head out, liberally bedaubed with gobs of Vaseline to look like sweat. "Hey, would you all keep it down, I'm trying to register angs--" And a flying body knocked him off his feet. Said body, clad in a red velvet robe and burgundy silk PJs, and still gamely clutching a half-empty glass of champagne, rose to its feet and prepared to dive back into the fray. Until, that is, he caught a glimpse of the rangy redhead. "Oh!" the being said, in tones of mild surprise. Then he looked over at the two women still standing, arms entwined, and staring in shocked yet delighted horror at the scene. "H4y G41zdAv, giT j00r bUht Inn hEEr enD HelP!" yelled a being who, even through the increasing murk, could be seen as an assemblage of inappropriate parts. "Will you kindly keep your shirt on, Hat?" murmured the being now identified as Gaulstaff. "I think I see some material here." He lounged over to the redhead, and remarked, smoothly, "Hey, baby, come here often?" "Not as often as I'd like to, sugar," the auburn-tressed bimbo replied. "Well, we'll have to see if we can't do something about that, won't we?" said the hentai daemon. "I'm a little busy at the moment, but if you were to help me clear this situation up, we could, perhaps--you know--" "Now Mr. Gaulstaff, that isn't nice!" protested a small, kawaii, voice. "Becky-chan is fighting fair. You need to fight fair, too." A silence fell, as all eyes turned to see another kawaii young girl holding a surprisingly large gun. Only this one was dressed in a frilly pink dress and white apron, where the other was dressed in what could only be called a fanservice combat-fatigue fuku. Gaulstaff made a last effort. "I could, you know, introduce you to those two over there..." he said, gesturing nonchalantly at Akari and Shuukou. The pink-clad figure glanced over at them quickly, swinging her weapon up into Gaulstaff's face before he could do more than make a futile grab. "No thanks. They're just not as kawaii as my Becky-chan." And the girl's eyes filled with swirly, sparkly circles, without losing a certain steely glint. "Now, why don't you go help your friends while I apologize to these nice people?" Gaulstaff shrugged and leapt to one side as Becky's AK-47 neatly outlined the place where his silhouette had been on the opposite wall. Curses and wails from outside indicated that The Man in Beige, his zombie hoards, and Amano were now involved. The outlined form of Gaulstaff fell outward into the night, leaving a daemon-shaped hole where it had been. "Wait just a minute!" yelled Judou. "You can't just burst in, shoot up the set, wreck our entire schedule, and APOLOGIZE!" "Aki-chan!" bellowed Becky, as she jumped and aimed a burst of bullets at Mr. Hat, who would have been creeping up behind her if his two left feet had allowed it. "Don't stand there talking! Come and help me!" Danderbutt tried to whap her upside the head with the rubber chicken, but only succeeded in swinging in a 360-degree arc and smacking Telemachus in the behind. "Oh no, Becky-chan. Two of us against four of them? That would hardly be fair. Besides, how can I watch your infinitely lovely form in action if I, too, am part of the fray?" Enormous sweatdrops rolled down several heads. "My God!" shrieked Kenji! "Sweatdrops?!?" What is this, *Dragon Half*? I'm here to do serious supernatural drama, and you're spoiling the creative vision!" He flung himself onto Telemachus, and began trying to chew his ear off. Telemachus batted him away, but Kenji refused to cease. "Sorry guys. I tend to have that kind of an effect on people," the violence daemon said with a shrug. Mr. Hat, meanwhile, was looking at a list posted in a dark corner. "Idz n0t lyK dayve bean Dun' taht gud. L oOK, 2 m4j0R p1ortho1z, an; how meinee sKippz ?' Soshi finally found his voice. "How dare you, you swine! Here we've been, laboring away, trying to produce some real quality here, and you-- you're turning us into a CHIBI!" And with that, all the Wings of Fate cast rolled up their sleeves and joined the fray. Gaulstaff sighed, sipped a bit of his champagne, and dove in himself, in hopes of bumping up against a few of these new soft young round ones. As they rolled out the hole in the wall, the howls of the external forces rose to meet them, drowned out only by the sound of the production company's lawyers as they tried to find someone to sue. * * * * An empty soundstage is a gloomy, even sinister place. This one was rendered even more gloomy by the rows of seats that used to house the studio audience. There's nothing like the complete absence of a hundred or so people to make a place seem way too empty. The stage set was minimal which meant that, covered in dust and cobwebs as it was, it looked even more insignificant than it had looked with the huge cameras and microphone booms writhing around it. Three cushioned stools to the left of a partition. Another cushioned stool on the other side, and a padded leather host's chair to the right of all. That was it. No one, looking in at this dim and tawdry scene, would have guessed that a struggle as deadly as any war was going on, right on stage. On the right arm of the host's chair, an old tie appeared to be casually draped. It was worn, and a bit frayed, but it still had a certain air of insouciance. And, on the back of the same chair, was what appeared to be an abandoned bath toy. It had been a difficult and costly triumph, but for the moment Mr. Duck was in the ascendant. Suddenly, the door leading to Stage Right burst open. Or, rather, it just burst, sending wooden shards and bits of hinge across the stage. A huge cloud of dust rolled up through the air, and four figures sprinted across the stage. Well, in fact only one of them sprinted. Danderbutt moved at an appreciably high speed across the stage, huge shoes making ever-greater dust-clouds as his long-legged stride forced them down with resounding slaps. From time to time, as he ran, he honked his nose. Mr. Hat moved at a high rate of speed too, but was too uncoordinated to sprint. His movement was more like a long, rapid stumble. Gaulstaff sauntered, but in a speedy way. And Telemachus was running backwards, teasing Becky as he ran. "Call that shooting? You couldn't hit an elephant from two feet away! 'Course, what do you expect with such a puny gun?" Only a close observer would have noted that he was also carefully dodging every bullet from Becky's weapon. These four made it across the stage in no time, followed by Becky-chan, firing grimly, aiming for heads when she could see them, legs when she couldn't. She was followed by a huge collection of miscellaneous persons, all of whom seemed bent on murder--Becky and the Daemons for preference, but each other if no one else was available. The noise of the Daemonic taunts, the flapping feet, the firing gun, the shouting and hallooing of the crowd, was indescribable. It raised echoes all over the empty soundstage, so that, for a moment, it was as though the seats were full of ghosts applauding a play that only they could see. And after them all was Akia, kawaii in her pink dress, cool, calm, collected, and clearly cracked. She paused at the host's chair, picked up the bath toy, said, "Oooo, ducky!", and put it in her apron pocket. Then she wandered out after the throng, leaving the stage to silence and gloom once more. Mr. Tie could scarcely believe it. He had won! * * * * Interesting so far? That's good, because this is the end of the story now. Yup. Nothing else to see except a chibi moogle chasing a chibi chocobo around a tree. Ain't it cute? Oh alright, back to the flashback then. * * * * Ever wonder what happens when an Impro closes successfully? You know, full ending queue, loose ends tied up more-or-less successfully, and all that? That's right--there's a cast party. And the cast party for Mystery Club was in full swing in the Mystery Club soundstage. The authors were all over in one corner, arguing about what really killed the Impro. Was it lack of appreciation from the callow, ignorant rabble of Improfans? Was it the mixed-message beginning, alternating between Ranma- tyle comedy and darkdark horror? The predominance of Vampire Romance as the season moved forward? Or the adumbrations of Hot PseudoYuri Luvluv? Tempers were rising with every drink consumed. In the center of the room, the female leads were having a very similar discussion. Only, being actresses, their criticisms were more... personal. "Damn, damn, DAMN!" swore Setsuna, clutching a vodka gimlet. "Thirteen lousy episodes!" "Well, when the highlighted star is only seen as a whey-faced, yellow-eyed, blood-sucker," grumbled Treasa, "what can anyone expect?" "They certainly didn't seem to know what to do with their assets," agreed Lyss. "Awww, you're all just pissed because now you have to go look for jobs again," stated Junko, who had arrived in costume for some strange reason. She swished her "tail", nearly knocking Setsuna's drink out of her hand. Setsuna's eyes narrowed. "Just you wait, 'Miss Kawaii Kitsune of 1999'. Wait five years--no, three. You'll be so sick of playing fox-girls and cat-girls, and-- and-- squirrel- girls..." Ibuki nodded soberly. She also was dressed in costume, or close to it. Maybe because she knew how well it displayed her figure. She was drinking a lo-cal energy drink. "I can tell you right now, if I never have to play a bouncing martial artiste again, it'll be too soon. I'm sick of it." "YOU'RE sick of it! What about ME!?! I'm thirty years old, dammit, and I'm still playing innocent, naive schoolgirls who, at the very least, get threatened by 'mysterious forces'. Don't get me started on the tentacle oni..." Setsuna shuddered. "It's always about you, isn't it?" sneered Lyss. "Maybe if you had some cleavage you could graduate to femme fatale." "Face it, ladies," said Ibuki, somberly, "This Impro never had a chance." "What do you mean?" "Well, it's mostly been a vehicle for "sensai" over there and his collection of rising stars, ne? And who's going to hang around and read something where the sexual tension is patently phony?" And the ladies of the cast glared as one at the gentlemen, who certainly seemed to be hanging onto every word falling from the lips of the oldest cast member. Mirumoto was lapping it up, too. Setsuna smirked, and began to speak, but what she was about to say will be forever unknown, as the soundstage door collapsed like matchwood before the effects of a strategically-placed grenade. "What the h-- !" A bullet shattered the glass in Setsuna's hand. "Hey! That's only supposed be done using special effects!" Ibuki sighed and tackled her across the knees, sitting on her associate lest she become even more pot-valiant and try to join the fray. Treasa and Lyss had already hit the floor, and Junko was sprinting for the back exit. Telemachus poked his head in. "Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear. Doesn't seem to be much for me to do here, does there?" He pulled a cell-phone-like device out of his jeans pocket, scratch his flaming red beard thoughtfully, and then, with a wicked grin, turned a small dial. Then he, too, sprinted for the door. The other three daemons and Becky followed close behind him, but were ignored in the mayhem. A group of writers had cornered an associate producer and were taking turns pelting him with silverware, chicken-bones, and any other small objects that came to hand. Another group of writers had the director pinned up in one of the gantries. Setsuna and Ibuki, having destroyed each other's outer clothing and pulled out most of each other's hair, were starting to try and gouge out eyes. The other female cast members had joined in the slap-fest that was going on among the male cast. The only person who seemed to be left out was Mirumoto, and as Becky and the daemons, with their battling crew, surged past, Gaulstaff spotted the old man, grinned, walked over, and shook his hand. The old man, who had been looking a bit lost, grinned back, walked over to the snarling ball of dust that was Setsuna and Yohko, and began patting whatever he could reach. With howls of outraged betrayal, half the male cast began to pummel him. Aki walked through the entire soundstage without, apparently, seeing a thing. * * * * "I am NOT wearing that out there." "C'mon Sakura. It isn't THAT bad." Tomoyo batted her ubercute eyes at the older girl. "It's not as if it's not built for maneuverability. I was listening to you when you said something about that." Sakura crossed her arms and Put Her Foot Down. "Absolutely not! I have a fan base to think about, some of whom are impressionable young girls! What would they think?" "What's that supposed to mean?" The little girl's eye twitched. "... Still, I'm not wearing that." THAT, was a design fresh off the set of H! Flash, a co-production of Tomoyo and one Kouji, who did a little designing on the side. IT was also personalized strictly for the self-taught shotokan master, scarf directing just how low the neck line of the shirt was to be, which was very low. The skirt was her colors, and, surprisingly, enough to cover her bum safely. It did, however, guarantee that even the slightest movement would agitate? the light material, allowing the pink panties, with her name in English on the back, to be seen by the world. The Perfect Outfit. "Shingo doesn't have a problem with it," Tomoyo noted. Shingo was also passed out on the floor and bleeding profusely from his nose, but it's not like they were paying attention. Sakura was about to ask the girl if she had ever been a sacrifice to Lord Naughtious when there was a loud explosion, followed by the wall caving in. Sakura grabbed the miniature pervert stalker and dove for cover, while Shingo was covered in rubble. "Get back here YOU PINK DEFORMED MANIAC!" "OOSHA! This truly mighty hotdog belongs to only the one who can be mighty enough to devour it! Not for such a scrawny yet lethal girl!" "You lousy.... FIREBALL!" A flaming pink thing went head first through the other side of Sakura's dressing room, hotly followed by a heated redhead with a hot little ball of destruction. The two girls in the closet blinked. "That was scary." Sakura said. "Indeed." "I'm still not wearing that thing, and move your hand before I spa--do something not nice." "Sorry." * * * * Er... don't know how that got there. Sorry. * * * * C:\GAMES\IMPRO\SOH> soh (N)ew game, or (C)ontinue? C Creation's Caldera You are standing in a large, natural, circular chamber, with half-natural, half-carved images on all sides. Shifting dust and rolling rocks testify to the recent explosion that turned Creation's Cavern into Creation's Caldera. Suzume is holding your hand. Aoi is with you. The Resistance is standing around the edge of the circular chamber. A perfectly normal-looking Japanese school-boy--white shirt, blue shorts, and all--is standing in the center of the chamber, smiling shyly at you. >INVENTORY a silver pendant (worn) servant's clothing, damp (worn) pocky (surprisingly dry) a brown leather purse, wet (jingles a little when shaken) a tattered map, wet a potion recipe, wet a tension bar a metal cup a black-painted keyring and key Rojanosh's Hope (used) a piece of chalk, dry Suzume's Hope Teddy the Brick's Hope Yuki's Hope Meryl's Hope The Hope of the Resistance A lamp (unlit) >DIAGNOSE You are not at all hungry You are not at all thirsty You are not tired Aoi is with you. >LOOK AT BOY You turn to look at the boy who is standing in--wait, that's not in the script-- What do you mean, I can't--oh, OK, sorry-- When you are interrupted by the sudden crumbling of what appeared to be a solid rock wall. Now, it is easy to see that the wall is actually plaster laid over Styrofoam, making these really tacky fake rocks. >WHAT'S GOING ON? Trust me, you'll know soon enough. >SAVE GAME Are you want to overwrite everything you've done so far with what's coming? >ERR... NO. CANCEL SAVE Save canceled. Wise move, if I may say so. Through the gaping hole in the side of the Caldera, a plethora of battling shapes can be seen. Small explosions and the crackle of gunfire fill the--hey, wait just a minute here, my contract specifically states "No Guns!"" >NARRATE You can't make me! >NARRATE, OR I "DELETE SOH" You wouldn't! >CARE TO TRY ME? Ummm... no. (Sigh) Ahem... The Resistance cry out in confusion. In the center of the battle, a figure who can only be described as a bad collage project suddenly catches sight of the terrified throng. He grins--which looks very odd, as his mouth is in an unexpected location--and gives voice: "LOok, Dudz, a typist`!" Three of the other figures look up briefly, then return to the battle, the center of which seems to be a fairly kawaii young girl in a battle-fatigue fuku, holding an astoundingly large gun. >LOPK AT GFOIL What did you say? >LOOOK AT GILR I don't understand "GILR" >GIRL A fairly kawaii European girl in a Japanese-style seifuku, except that the seifuku is made from camouflage cloth, trimmed with black braid, and the neckerchief is bright red. She is carrying, and firing, an absolutely enormous piece of ordinance--perhaps an AK-47. >TALK TTO GRIL I don't see a grill here. >GIRL Boy, your typing is suddenly down the tubes. You OK? >Y You try to approach the girl, but are knocked aside by the combatants. Suzume helps you up. A tall, handsome figure in a robe and pajamas approaches Suzume, and puts his hand on her arm. Surprisingly, she turns away from you without a backward glance, and embraces the stranger. They begin necking furiously. >LOCK I don't see a lock here. >LOOK You hentai! LOOK CREATOIN (Sigh) Looks like I'm going to have to help you out. Do you mean "LOOK CREATION"? >Y You look around for Creation and see him dimly through the haze. He seems to be trying to repair the hole in the cliff-wall through which these creatures emerged. A tall, thin figure with a clown's nose and shoes keeps getting in his way, bapping him with a rubber chicken. >From the hole another figure steps forward. It is another fairly kawaii girl, also carrying an amazingly-large gun. This one is wearing a frilly pink dress. The being with the misshapen face grins at you again. >LIRG TA KOOL Umm... Say what? >RGLI TA OKOL! I guess we'll just have to wait. Time passes... The fight continues, knocking big chunks of Styro-rock off of the entire surface of the Caldera. One carefully-textured area reveals an extremely rude sketch on the plywood behind it as it falls to the ground. The girl in pink walks over to the being with the odd face, and begins to reprimand him. "Now, Mr. HaT, what you're doing is not nice. Not nice at all." The being grins. "HeY, sIt just myn autre! He;s typoing, I'm a Typ[o Daemon!" >TAK G Do you mean "TAKE GUN"? >Y You try to wrest the gun away from the girl in pink, but a muscular dude in a spanking-white gi pushes you away from her, then dives back into the fight. >KLIL YTPO DEAMNO I don't understand. >KIILL TYP D Do you mean "KILL TYPO DAEMON?" >Y Are you sure? >Y! OK, OK, it's just a little out of character, you know? With a loud cry, you throw yourself onto the Typo Daemon, grabbing him around what would appear to be a neck. You squeeze as hard as you can. The Typo Daemon gives a faint "UrkK. Two hand-like appendages-- well, at least they have multiple digits--claw at your arms. >KEEP SQUEEZING Hey, look who's typing clearly again? The Typo Daemon gurgles and runs away from the center of the fight, taking you with him. He runs towards the far wall of the Caldera. The girl in the pink dress calls out, "Mr. Hat! You come back here!" and fires a warning shot that zips past your ear. The Typo Daemon has nearly reached the far wall. >SUZUME, HELP ME! Suzume seems to be, umm, otherwise engaged. Pardon me, I seem to have a nosebleed... There, that's better. The daemon has reached the wall of the Caldera, and begins trying to kick through it. >SQUEEZE You continue to squeeze the Typo Daemon's neck. It does seem to limit the effect of the daemon, but not much else is happening. >RESISTANCE, HELP ME! With a start, the members of the Resistance, including Creation, come rushing across the Caldera to your aide. Even Suzume disengages from her companion, pulls her kimono together, and saunters over, the tall dude in tow. The guy with the rubber chicken follows. The chap in the white gi pushes the girl in the combat fuku and runs in your direction! She lets fly with a hail of bullets and comes charging after him, and all the other fighters that came in with her charge as well. The girl in the pink dress moves slowly after the throng. The Typo Daemon has kicked a hole in the wall. ERROR/GAME OVER >WHAT? ERROR/GAME OVER. >WHY? A fatal error has occurred in the continuity of the game. >RESTORE There is nothing to restore. >WHAT??? ERROR/GAME OVER. >QUIT C:/YOUR SYSTEM HAS BEEN INFECTED WITH THE CHIBIIMPROVIRUS. HAVE A WAI DAY. * * * * And I think that catches us up. Now on with the John Woo-like massive conclusion! ... What do you mean we couldn't get doves?!? What's John Woo without doves?! ... Fine. Just find something quick. * * * * The Rio shoot for "H! Flash: The College Groove" was a mess. Dead bodies and infighting from several different stories were littered everywhere. Somewhere inthe thick of it all was an overly cutesy girl with two Godsmack Phallic Dominator-model .45s making a double-left-footed tyke and a leftover from the Debbie Does Chronicles dance tap like they had never done before. Of course, they never had danced tap at all before, which might explain why they were bothrolling on the ground in agony. "Tee-hee! That was fun, but now I have to kill you both for all the pain, misery, sex, and violence you've caused. You understand, don't you?" "G0d $av De Fr3k!" Mr. Hat cried. She shot him two more times in what she thought was his eyes. "..." Gaulstaff said. Mr. Hat curled up and began to emit a whine most unpleasant. "That was just plain inhuman, you know," Gulstaff said curtly. "...Oopsie," the girl said upon realizing just what she had shot. "0Ops? {00PS]? That's all you can say you brain-dead hick little BITCH! That was my..." Mr. HaT fainted from blood loss and too much use of the proper English language. "Oh dear." The hentai daemon picked up Mr. Hat, and his busted kazoo. "It meant a lot to him, you know. The one thing he had in his own little world that remained the same." "Geez, I'm sorry..." Aika studied her feet. It was pretty cruel, when one thought about it... "Well, no harm done, I guess. He'll get over it." He rose and dusted himself off, picked up Mr. Hat, and began to limp away. He was promptly shot several times, each high-mineral projectile ripping through his flesh like so many hobos through a good meal. Bones cracked under the sudden pressure, and he was not even able to scream, for his throat was now filled like a fleshy goblet with his own blood. He coughed it out and fell, dropping the surrealism carcass several feet away from him. Several Chocobos flew overhead. "Aika! We're SUPPOSED to kill these morons!" Becky lowered her Emergency Gun (the last one was lost in the scene confusion) and mopped her brow with a hanky. Behind her stood two severly wounded Daemons. "Well, sure, but I just hit his kazoo, and..." She looked guiltily at her partner and, hopefully, lover after this was all over. "... Still, the buggers have to die," the girl groused. "Though I can't help but feel we've forgotten something." "It might be that there were five daemons, and we've only deaded four," the girl remarked. "That's right. But where can we find the last one?" She bent over, picked up the moaning Danderbutt, and slapped him. "Where's your last friend?" The clown pointed a bloodied finger to the pristine man standing right behind her, weakly honked his nose, and passed out. "Okay..." Becky turned and trained her guns on the debonair man. He blinked. "Where'd the second one come from?" "Plot Convenience." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MAGICAL GIRLS DO-GOODERS Data File Entry #2x - 4: Plot Convenience Type: Author Spell Range: N/A Components: TC, L (Time Crunch, Laziness) Duration: As long as it's needed Area of Effect: Target person(s) or environment(s) Saving Throw: Isn't it one already? PCs are used as the sacred privilege of the author, GM, DM, or any other name you want to give the Head Bugger In Charge. When in effect, a PC allows little objects or beings to suddenly intervene, making the target look cooler, cuter, or more lethal as needed. Not to be canceled out by any force except Plot Advancement. Since this is Chibi, that doesn't count. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Damn. Well, one turn deserves another." The man flicked a wrist, and suddenly there were hordes of angels and live demons around the two, dripping, knashing, clacking, and doing other menacing things that little girls don't like to think about. "Um... What are these?" "Well, it's part of my job, of course." He handed them his card. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MAGICAL GIRL DO-GOODERS Data File Entry #NIHIL: Queue Full Name: Lord Queue of the Continuum. Occupation: Last Minute Plot Fight with a Twist, Bootlegger (All statistics are rated from Nihil to ??.) Intelligence: ?? Age: Reflexes: ?? Measurements: Technical: ?? Blood Type: Body: ?? Favorite Food: Looks: ?? Least Favorite Food: Himitsu Charisma: ?? Hobbies: Bootlegger, Daisy-chasing, getting Cool: ?? shot in the back, and all things Fritzgerald Luck: Nihil Psi: Nihil Hit Points: ??/Nihil+?? Mana: He's got the damn sword. AC: Frilly Abilities: -Calls people 'old sport' out of reflex -Can throw a hell of a party and not attend -Twist plots, no matter how silly or serious. -Has Endless Wardrobe Contains Infinite Cool and Determination. Tap for an Egg of the East. Background: Born from the pits of the unknown, he worked his way up by manipulating people and creatures at the last minute. Despite overwhelming odds, he always managed to climb his way up to not only 0wnz this series, but make others take the fall that was meant for him. A truly dangerous opponent with nearly limitless power and resources at his control. Not to be taken lightly. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "That's a lot of text for a card." Becky mused. "I'm also known for efficiency here and there," he smiled. "Now, the idiots are dead, and it's remotely safe enough to finish you both myself." He turned to his millions beyond millions of angelic demons. "Now, Hell's Army from Heaven, if you please?" The demonic angels roared in unison, then were silenced. Queue collapsed in A newly formed pool of his own blood. "... What?" Aika said, gun smoking. "He turned his back." "... I love you." Becky said with a smile. "Really?" The blond's eyes widened and she smiled with joy. "Very much so." She hugged the girl, as the demons all found something else to do. "I love you too! You can't have my score card though." "Damn! That's not fair! There are so many more kills on yours! Can't I at least get that one?" She pointed to the rotting flesh in a white suit. "Nope!" All of a sudden, several MiBs came out of nowhere, each sporting a weird logo with chikins on them. "Ain't that chickens?" No, it's not, and stop destroying the fourth brick. It's all that's left. "Okay," Becky said. "I'm afraid this romp is over ladies." The head monkey said. "You have to disarm and turn them in to us for confiscation." "You mean..." Aika said, tears in her eyes and her lips quivering. Becky was weak in the knees. It couldn't be possible. "After so long, and now just like that, it's over? Really over?" "Yes, it's over," the second monkey said. The girls looked at each other, and hugged and bawled like babies. After all that torture and suffering, it was finally over with. Fini. Done. They were free. After a moment and twenty rolls of Kodak film used up, they stood up and looked at each other. "Wanna go get shit-faced?" Becky asked. "Sure!" Aika answered. And lo, they did get shit-faced, and there was much rejoycing. * * * * Author's Notes: (Kenji) Um, Damn. Who would have guessed. I get to help end a classic. YAY! It was kinda fun, even for chibi (Don't ask). But in the meantime, I think I'm gonna go have myself a drink and a smile. Thanks be to #iff for some extra assistance, and Todd for (hopefully forever more) being SO understanding. Much kisses and hugs, and Back to the Hack I go. (Lirazel) Lirazel wishes to thank Kenji, for jumping in head-first at the last minute, and Rutt and Sharyna for dreaming up the crashing-through-the- impros idea. Apologies to the writers for: Spirits of Hope, Wings of Fate, Impro Dating Game, Mystery Club, MCTFF Ultra, and H!Flash. And to our families and loved ones--we'll write as soon as the Witness Protection Program has figured out where to hide us. (12/10/01)