DO-GOODERS The Proactive Teen Superhero Team With No X Anywhere In Their Title A FanArt HQ / Spoof Chase ImproFanfic http://pixelscapes.com/improfanfic Episode Twenty-six: Time Crisis! Are you confused yet? by J.M. Steadman (steadman@pscosf.peru.edu) Edited by Nierock DeTerror Do-Gooders started by Stefan Gagne * * * Esjie watched from his throne as the Do-gooders rushed to meet Ayesse's evil creations. It was a thing of beauty, really, as the Teletubbies knocked the pesky Sailors about. To their credit, the magical girls were able to get quite a few hits in, but the moment any one of the monsters was knocked to the ground, it would just hop back on it's feet and giggle evilly. Matsuro was getting more than his share of the battle, slashing uselessly time after time at the purple Teletubbie, knocking it back against the stone columns of the throne room. At first, it didn't seem to mind respond much, and then... "Hug, Tinky-winky!" a detached voice from nowhere in particular. Matsuro looked up in confusion. "What?" Suddenly, a pair of purple mitts wrapped themselves about him. Tinky-winky SQUEEZED Matsuro tightly, its body radiating waves of... ick. Matsuro doubled over with nausea, and Tinky-winky bashed him a foot into the marble wall with its purse. Kireiko was encountering similar difficulties. Taking advantage of his oni form's natural speed and strength, he mopped the floor up with Po. Every time the bowling-pin youma hit the ground it would just bounce back, and then it stopped. It waved him over, then gestured at the screen in its stomach. The image of Kireiko bruised and burnt on the floor of the room appeared. Kireiko laughed. "" he taunted. The screen slid away to reveal a plush, furry cannon in the youma's stomach. The blast caught Kireiko square in the chest and knocked him across the floor. Twin "Cheku Bounce"-ing, blasts from Little Big Guns, blasts of dark energy, and the various attacks of Villyn's minions ripped across the floor of the throne room for Esjie's amusement. At this rate, the Do-gooders would die of exhaustion before a single one of the Teletubbie youma were scratched. "And yet," the voice from the shadows whispered in his ear, "what elegance is there in merely stomping your enemies like ants? Perhaps it would be better if you let them suffer tad longer, in a safe location." Esjie turned to the figure in the darkness. "I suppose that makes sense. Do you have a particular place in mind?" "Yes, I do." Throughout the massive field of violence which would probably seem a lot more impressive were it described by a better author, the Queen Vengeance fought her way through to the base of the throne, where she stared up at Esjie. "Maeda! Do you have any idea what you are doing??!!" Esjie yawned. "Not really, but it's very entertaining." The Chronostone flashed a blinding shade of green, and the throne room was suddenly empty, save for Esjie, the Teletubbies, and the whisperer in the dark. "Did you ever get that [tea]?" it asked. * * * Koji was on the move. He wasn't really sure where he was going, but then again, he never was. As his fingers plied the keys of his trusty laptop his spirit became disconnected; bouncing along from server to server on the astral net, seeking the hyperlinks of fate that would lead him to his goal. This was not the place. Nor was it here. His mind and energy tore across the cosmic computer realm in paths that gradually became more and more random, until at last he joined the hundreds of points of light spiraling about the mainframe of the Astral Chair. The Chair's current occupant's aura was a tad weaker than that of the Astrals Koji had previously known, and its countenance (as near as Koji could make out, being an electrical impulse of plot circling about at the speed of light) seemed oddly weighted, as if it had not slept in days. Then the the being raised a hand and pointed. GO HERE. And with that, Koji was dispatched once more, given form and direction by the seated one's will. Reaching his final destination (a forgotten phone booth not far from the Dark Palace's throne room), he lept outward from the circuitry and took solid form, a standard-issue UniOptics kamen mask sliding into place over his eyes. "To those who would defy the will of the Programmers, and they who seek to defeat the designs of the Astrals, take heed! For I am -- " Sadly however this was as far as he got, as the ground shook, the booth toppled, and his legs were crushed. * * * Elric was a man who prided himself on his powers of observation, for although it usually took a few tankards of ale (not for him, for his sword) before he was able to grasp the concept of a knife being stuck in his chest, once he did so he could readily provide you with graphic details of the private lives of everyone who had wielded it. (Though this was not in fact his own specialty, and was nowhere near as entertaining at parties as his teacher had been.) He was the way he was because, many incarnational Cycles ago when the Yon Powers were first chosen as the not-all-powerful -but-still-extremely-competent-when-faced-with-most-concievable-crisis -situations-of-cosmic-import moderators of eternity and were bonded to their respective dragons, the case worker who had been assigned to his installation (a recent college graduate who had yet to realize that life required slightly more dedication than the "party all night, sleep all day, get up and party some more" philosophy he had become accustomed to following normally dictated) in the nearly-completed biomatrix had put off getting any sort of solid work done in the matter until just after he had come home from an awfully loud and highly successful party at which he had had far too much to drink and which had the rather annoying misfortune of ending scarcely an hour before the project deadline (which the other, more responsible members of the agency had already extended twice solely for his benefit), and so had been forced to rush through the horrifically lengthy and infuriatingly dull power infusion ceremony with a somewhat distracting amount of disco, swords, women, lampshades, alcohol, blood, and other narcotic substances on his mind. [190 words. Author collapses for a few minutes.] As Elric walked into the cafe, a fashionable traffic cone capped idly over his pale-skinned brow, he noticed two things. One of them was the presence of Baron staring into his coffee with a gradually increasing look of shock and desperation, and the other was the lack of alcoholic beverages on the menu. "Ughn," he said and turned to leave but was blocked by Master Chiang, who had entered the shop just behind him. "Oooohh no you don't. If I have to go through with this, so do you," the Master said. * * * Tejina wasn't really sure what happened. One moment she and her friends had been bouncing Teletubbies around the throne room and getting bounced around by them, and then there had been a flash of green light, a rush of wind, then darkness. The next thing she knew, she was lying on a hard, rough surface. Bringing herself to her feet, she found that she was standing in the stone roadway of a city square. The others were picking themselves up around her and examining their new surroundings with similar confusion. The buildings were tall and made of white stone. The architecture itself was not particularly interesting, a blending of styles from mideval Europe and ancient Japan, and yet in the face of such designs you could see the elements of modern society. There was a bakery here, a bookstore next to it, a clothing store across the way (though the displays seemed to showcase a selection of mostly consisting of garb reserved for intimate meetings). And at the center of the square was a statue of... Becky? Dressed in a a regal gown and holding a shopping bag. This said, the streets were clean and well-kept, but there were no people to be seen, no cars or other signs of recent activity. It was as if the population had suddenly decided to move away, and in so doing had left everything behind. Becky seemed deep in thought and said nothing. Keiko admired the clothes for sale across the street and smiled. Kireiko was the first to speak. "Umm, where the hell are we?" "Beats me," Matsuro replied. "But if that statue is supposed to be Becky, would this place have anything to do with the Kingdom of Delight? Do you recognize it, Becky? Tejina? Aki? Hanaki?" "..." "Beats me." "That dress looks a lot like mine." "Oh, I've been here before." Everyone turned to look at Hanaki. "Really?" Kireiko asked. "Umm, no, not really. I *think*..." Hanaki frowned. Throughout this exchange, Villyn, Charity, and Ayame had remained silent. Then Charity spoke. "I think I know where this is, or at least, where it's supposed to be. Though I've no idea how we got here." Villyn lit up. "That's wonderful, my love. Where might that be?" Charity looked upward thoughtfully. "This looks a lot like the old city of Ketrel, a place which was destroyed early during the war between the Kingdom of Delight and the Darkverse. At least, it was supposed to have been destroyed." Ayame cut in quickly, "Yes yes, and it was the home town of Sailor Rapture, obviously. But how did we get here in the first place? Have your people been conducting any experiments with time, Charity? Or doing research on the old Kindom of delight?" Charity shook her head. "Not that I know of." Then something struck her. "What do you mean, 'obviously'? Don't you know?" Ayame seemed a little startled by the question, but quickly regained her composure. "It was a long time ago, and Ketrel lay at the outskirts of the Kingdom. I can't be expected to remember everything." Villyn shrugged. "Well, now that we're here, we should probably see about finding a way out of here. The sooner we can dispose of this 'Maeda', the sooner we can restore Charity to the throne and persue global domination!" Aki sighed. Villyn continued,"Come, my minions! Let us..." Villyn trailed off as he looked about the square and did a headcount. The minions were nowhere to be seen. * * * After a token struggle, a minor arguement, and a bottle of Tequila from Master Chiang's suitcase had been poured down Elric's scabbard, the two finally found themselves in a private booth at the back of the cafe with the Baron Stagner von Carrlson looking across the table at them. The Baron had a rather disturbed look on his face and would occasionally shoot his coffee cup (which, oddly enough, steadfastly refused to show anything besides his own reflection on the surface of its liquid) a concerned look. "You're probably wondering why I've called you here today," he began. "No," Chiang interrupted, "There can be only one reason why you'd drag me all the way from South America and Elric from... wherever it is that he's been for the last hundred years. Or at least I HOPE that's the reason, because if you've called us up for anything less, I swear-" Chiang (who was not normally this agitated but six hours in customs and a further three wandering the streets with Zathras would be a strain on anyone) was cut off in mid-rant as a sheepish-looking pygmy warrior dressed in a waitress' uniform staggered into their midst under the weight of a platter of roasted chickens. "Here is order. Sure want **more**??" the pygmy asked in broken Japanese. "Yes, yes, keep it coming." Chiang waved the waiter off. Once he was out of sight, a green claw composed of what appeared to be hundreds of scintillating insects stretched out from the Master's sachel, swept the poultry off of the platter, and dragged the birds into the bag. The sachel began to emit a low buzz of crunchings and spat bones back onto the plate. Elric winced. "However did you manage to keep it fed all those years, Chi?" he asked. "I don't want to talk to about it," the Master replied. * * * It was nighttime now, or what passed for nighttime in the confounding, self-warped dimension that was the Lost City of Ketrel. A day of fruitless exploration had revealed little but clean, empty streets that looped back on themselves and shops with unlocked doors and fresh goods. The minions were didn't seem to have been sent with them, and no one was really sure what to do next. While the others had taken shelter for the night in what was probably the town's inn and had fallen asleep rather quickly, Ayame was restless. There were just too many questions, too many things that didn't add up. She walked through the empty town from street to street, trying to sort out her thoughts. WHY didn't she remember this place? It was quite obviously a city of the Kingdom of Delight. As its Queen, she should know every stone, and every street corner. Shouldn't she? Now that Ayame examined it seriously, there were so many gaps in the memories she had brought with her from the last Cycle. She knew who she was, and who the others were. She knew about the situation with the Darkverse and had all the information she needed to fight it with the Sailor Team. But what was day-to-day life like in the Kingdom? What was its culture like, and what was its history consist of? And if this wasn't scary enough, she couldn't even read the street signs! At the same time, while she hunted futily for the memories she lacked, it seemed that there was something else. Something she DID remember but which lay miles below in the depths of her mind and was inaccessible. And every time she tried to grasp these other feelings, her memories of Delight jumped in her path and cut her off. "This is who you are, and this is what you need to do," they said. "Pay no attention to that woman behind the curtain." She came now to a museum. She could tell it was a museum because it looked like one -- it was a tall, masonic bulding with lots of pillars, some stone lions (although the sculptor had clustered together and made it appear that they were having having a fairly naughty time), and occasional statues of buff heroes who looked historical. (There were also a lot of gold statues of penguins, but that probably wasn't important.) Perhaps she could find some answers here. Ayame entered the building. * * * "You were saying, Carrlson?" The Baron sighed. "Well yes, you are correct, Chiang. The Cycle is quickly approaching its turnover point. And while under normal circumstances I would be content to let each of you handle things as they appeared in your home regions, there have been several events recently that simply do not conform to the usual patterns." Chiang frowned. "In what way?" Carrlson shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure -- that's one of the reasons why I called you here. I could never grasp the threads as readily as Argath, so I was hoping that Elric would be willing to examine this diagram of current events." He handed a sheet of assorted scribblings across the table. Elric sagged a little at the mention of the lost Power, then accepted the sheet the Baron offered. He studied it for a few moments, then suddenly sat up straight. "If I'm reading this correctly (and mind you I was only worked with Arg for a short time and could easily be misinterpreting), then it looks like whoever used his Chronostone to reset the Cycle transposed a pair of key threads -- a couple of the souls got swapped." * * * The inside of the museum was as empty and as well-kept as the rest of the city. Ayame walked from room to room, looking at paintings depicting the Kingdom's golden age which seemed to strike a note from her at first but eventually rang hollow. There were statues of the Sailor Team and several other people she didn't recognize, each with a small sign tacked at its base (which Ayame couldn't read). But nowhere were there depictions of her, or of things which helped resolve her inner conflicts. No statues of royalty, no crowns or staffs or other things she truly recognized. As she walked down the hallway, something made her pause. There was a door on her left. A very big door. A very big, armored door with lots of things written all over it which groaned sharply as she approached, swinging back to reveal a room caked in dust, grime and cobwebs. At the center of the room was a pedistal, and on the pedistal lay a small, rust-red ball. Affixed to the base of the pedistal was another plaque with various characters engraved into it. But unlike the signs everywhere else in the city, the words on this plaque seemed to be written in an entirely different script, one that she had never seen before yet which burned their message through to her loud and clear. "ARTIFACT OF DUSK -- DON'T TOUCH" Ayame reached for the ball. * * * The Baron went pale. "But... but that would knock all our preestablished patterns and destinies out of position. There'd be no telling the outcome of the final conflict. The players could do anything!" "In other words," Master Chiang summerized cooly, "They have free will this time. Is that such a bad thing?" "With the fate of the world on the line, I should say so!" Carrlson retorted. Elric just stared at the diagram, his expression becoming more intent with each passing moment. Finally he looked up at the Baron. "Where are they now?" The Baron turned red. "idontknow," he muttered sheepishly. "YOU don't KNOW?????!!!!!" "I *did* have my eye on them, really I did, but then they sort of, um, disappeared." "Elric," Chiang interrupted, "The souls that were mixed up... which two were they?" * * * As Ayame lifted the Artifact of Dusk to the light, something awoke deep within her -- something she feared and at the same time craved with a primal hunger she never knew she had. The reddish orb glinted in the light for a moment, then blossomed into a swirling vortex of searing power. And as the Artifact's dark energies wrapped themselves around her, she laughed -- slowly at first and then faster and louder, the pitch and fervor of the expression underlined with a current of pure, unadulterated evil. * * * Somewhere beyond the limits of space and time, Nigel Ruthersford Ramsbottom suddenly looked up from his midcontinuum tea, the color rapidly draining from his face. "Oh no, not again," he whispered softly. And then he was gone. * * * WHAT'S RAMSBOTTOM GOT TO DO WITH ANYTHING? ARE CHARITY AND AYAME REALLY CAST IN EACH OTHER'S ROLES? WHAT WILL BECOME OF THE NOW-CRIPPLED KOJI KAMEN, AND WHAT IS HIS REAL NAME? WHAT ABOUT ZATHRAS, LESSENTE, AND THE DWARVES? ARE VILLYN'S MINIONS TRAPPED IN THE DARKVERSE TO MEET A NASTY FATE AT THE HANDS OF THE TELETUBBIES? HOW ARE THINGS COMING ALONG IN THE ONGOING SHUBBY-CTHULU CONFLICT? WHAT WILL OUR HEROES FIND AT THE BOTTOM OF ARGATH'S GRAVE? AND WHERE HAVE ALL THE COOKIES GONE??? David Siegel, who has the Chair next, may choose to answer a few of the above questions if he's not too busy repairing all the damage I've done to the universe -- let's have a big hand for the clean-up crew. Applause! Special thanks go to John Evans, Eslington, and the Improfanfic Discussion Board for their information regarding the Teletubbies, even though I didn't use them much -- hopefully, the next fight scene involving them will be written by someone with a tad more experience in the matter. Those desiring a forum in which to seek revenge may find me in the Dalnet irc channel #animenews, typically after 5:00 PM Central. J.M. Steadman (Teyunde Sakurambo) steadman@pscosf.peru.edu -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Visit Sakurambo's Urusei Yatsura Fanfic Archive, one of the finest collections of Lum fanfiction (100% TSY-free) on the 'net at: http://www.peru.edu/~steadman/fanfiction/fanfic.shtml -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- "I don't get sad, I get evil."