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Cleric
Sept 29, 2007 0:33:02 GMT -5
Post by Aedh on Sept 29, 2007 0:33:02 GMT -5
[NB: For the benefit of American readers who may not know ... Tesco is Britain's own counterpart of Wal-Mart. Big ... shiny ... plastic ... everywhere ... you get the idea.]
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Prestan
Vice Council in Charge of Flames and Summary Combustions
Not Without Innocence
Posts: 128
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Cleric
Oct 3, 2007 12:22:32 GMT -5
Post by Prestan on Oct 3, 2007 12:22:32 GMT -5
[NB: For the benefit of American readers who may not know ... Tesco is Britain's own counterpart of Wal-Mart. Big ... shiny ... plastic ... everywhere ... you get the idea.] Hm.. have we had a thread about where everyone is from? Be interesting to see.
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Cleric
Oct 3, 2007 17:00:13 GMT -5
Post by Aedh on Oct 3, 2007 17:00:13 GMT -5
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Cleric
Oct 7, 2007 9:43:48 GMT -5
Post by Witcher Wolf on Oct 7, 2007 9:43:48 GMT -5
The Doctor stares at Tesco and exlaims in a dark sinister tone. "Oh, they shouldn't have done that."
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Cleric
Oct 7, 2007 12:15:56 GMT -5
Post by Mirabilis on Oct 7, 2007 12:15:56 GMT -5
Too bloody right they shouldn't!!
*rolls up sleeves and strides purposefully to the leeringly gaping door of the big shiny building*
Right! We'll see who can just throw up a carbuncle wherever they damn well please!!
*produces pot of pepper from right pocket...sprinkles some on the back of left hand and takes a deep sniff. Places left hand on door.....and sneezes*
AAAAAAAaaaaaaaCHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Ah....that's better! *grins* I'd like to see them try and run a business operation from inside a big wobbly, stretchy mass of blue and red spandex!! Hah!!
*turns to the Doctor*
Now look...if it can happen here...then it's no doubt happening in other places too.....you HAVE to get me back to the palace...I HAVE to snatch my old job back from that flaming upstart Prestan before it's too late!! *manic glint in the eye* I'm Father......I... AM...FATHER!!!! *Ahem* So can you please get us out of here and back there in a hurry? This scene has dragged on for FAR too long!!! Or do I have to trust to my less than accurate wrist teleporter again?
*looks past Doctor*
Oh and your TARDIS appears to be overrun with fur balls again!
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Cleric
Oct 8, 2007 3:05:32 GMT -5
Post by Vespertilio on Oct 8, 2007 3:05:32 GMT -5
The TARDIS had more than just a few Cat-Monkeys on the roof this time, the blue box was literally covered from the light on the top to the ledge at the bottom. "Squreek! Squreek! SQUREEK!" The Cat-Monkeys shifted the TARDIS about 5 inches to the left. "Squreek! Squreek! SQUREEK!" Another 5 inches...
The Doctor and Father stared, unsure whether to be alarmed or amused, as the furry little creatures slowly inched the TARDIS away.
"Well, best put a stop to this now before someone gets hurt, especially me!" The Doctor whipped out his trusty sonic screwdriver and blinked at his suddenly empty hand. A Cat-Monkey chittered with what sounded suspiciously like laughter and waved the sonic screwdriver at the Doctor before sticking out it's little tongue and diving into the mass of others of it's kind at the base of the TARDIS.
The Doctor was, for the first time in a very long time, rendered speechless. Looking repeatedly from his empty hand to the spot where the Cat-Monkey had disappeared he finally stammered, "It...he...took my screwdriver! Right! NOBODY takes my sonic screwdriver!" He strode forwards towards the TARDIS.
Father looked on in horror. "Doctor, wait! STOP!!!" So intent was the Doctor on retrieving his favorite tool that he failed to notice that with every step he took towards the TARDIS he was shrinking...
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Cleric
Oct 8, 2007 12:54:35 GMT -5
Post by Witcher Wolf on Oct 8, 2007 12:54:35 GMT -5
[It's here that I bow out of this, unfortunately I don't have the time and with what's going on in my life right now, the inclination.]
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Cleric
Oct 8, 2007 13:03:07 GMT -5
Post by Mirabilis on Oct 8, 2007 13:03:07 GMT -5
[It's here that I bow out of this, unfortunately I don't have the time and with what's going on in my life right now, the inclination.] Sorry to hear that Wolfie....it was fun though and thanks for being a good sport!
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Cleric
Oct 8, 2007 13:10:28 GMT -5
Post by Witcher Wolf on Oct 8, 2007 13:10:28 GMT -5
[No problems! If I can get out of this place RL I'll bounce back in, but you never know who as or how! Or how many! Vesper seems to have it covered anyways ] [My RL writing schedule is so hideous right now as well I can't concentrate on anything else too ]
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Cleric
Oct 8, 2007 13:47:21 GMT -5
Post by Mirabilis on Oct 8, 2007 13:47:21 GMT -5
No worries Wolf.....you know you can jump back in anytime.....we'll think of something to cover your ass! ;D
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Cleric
Oct 8, 2007 14:38:54 GMT -5
Post by Mirabilis on Oct 8, 2007 14:38:54 GMT -5
The TARDIS had more than just a few Cat-Monkeys on the roof this time, the blue box was literally covered from the light on the top to the ledge at the bottom. "Squreek! Squreek! SQUREEK!" The Cat-Monkeys shifted the TARDIS about 5 inches to the left. "Squreek! Squreek! SQUREEK!" Another 5 inches... The Doctor and Father stared, unsure whether to be alarmed or amused, as the furry little creatures slowly inched the TARDIS away. "Well, best put a stop to this now before someone gets hurt, especially me!" The Doctor whipped out his trusty sonic screwdriver and blinked at his suddenly empty hand. A Cat-Monkey chittered with what sounded suspiciously like laughter and waved the sonic screwdriver at the Doctor before sticking out it's little tongue and diving into the mass of others of it's kind at the base of the TARDIS. The Doctor was, for the first time in a very long time, rendered speechless. Looking repeatedly from his empty hand to the spot where the Cat-Monkey had disappeared he finally stammered, "It...he...took my screwdriver! Right! NOBODY takes my sonic screwdriver!" He strode forwards towards the TARDIS. Father looked on in horror. "Doctor, wait! STOP!!!" So intent was the Doctor on retrieving his favorite tool that he failed to notice that with every step he took towards the TARDIS he was shrinking... NOOOO!!!!!! DOCTOR!!!!!!! *one more step and the Doctor vanishes completely* Awww....SHIIIIITE!!!! NOW what am I going to do??? Dammit!! How do I get myself into these situations? Huh....well...only one thing for it.... *fiddles desperately with wrist teleporter.....a soft "click"...and vanishes......................to re-appear this time in an undignified tangle of long red hair, black spandex covered arms and legs and spikey boots...on the luxurious shag pile of EG Aedh's executive suite.......empty executive suite* Aha! *looks around triumphantly* There's only ONE other person I know who lives as well as I do.....did....do.....ahem....whatever!! I wonder where he is now? And more to the point...I wonder when he's coming back! *Eyes filing cabinets and desk with more than passing interest....grins and reaches into stretchy left pocket of spandex Cleric coat and pulls out a small slender silvery object that looks like a ballpoint pen* Luckily the good Doctor lent me his spare sonic screwdriver....hmmm....now then....let's just see what we can find in all these luuuuverly, highly confidential filing cabinets.....starting with THIS one...marked, rather foolishly "Highly Confidential - Tescotron Project."....!!!!!? *Sigh* You know...if EYE was an evil overlord.....
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Cleric
Oct 8, 2007 14:43:13 GMT -5
Post by Aedh on Oct 8, 2007 14:43:13 GMT -5
In the distance, a group of figures had landed from a ship, and were trooping in formation up to their assigned destination. They were dull silverish metal, with tubes coming out of their heads, and their experssionless eyes were perfectly round, but they all wore the familiar blue shirts, chanting their assigned marching chant:
"EveRY LiTTle helPs ... eveRY liTTle helPs ... eveRY liTTle helPs ..."
At length they arrive at the billowing, wobbly structure, and halt. One enquires:
"CyberCrewChief ... aRe you ceRTain thaT thiS strUCture is thE tarGEt deSTinatIOn?"
The chief's head swivels. "AffirMAtiVe ... noT TarGEt, 55632B ... noR WaL-mARt ... buT thE TeSco wE weRe assiGNed."
"iT doES noT coNForRm to paraMEterS foR noRmaL TeSco locATioN."
The CyberCrewChief clouts his subordinate on the noggin with a loud CLANG! "SiLenCE 55632B oR I wiLL reTaSK yoU to loT DutY coLLeCTing shopPInG tROlleYs .. THiS is dEStinaTIon."
They troop inside ... despite the CCC's authoritative tone, some organic vestige kicks in with a note of doubt, and he buzzes Cyber Control ...
Elsewhere ... several thousand feet above France ... [/b] EGIR Aedh lays back in his massaging seat, basking, doing the occasional isometric exercise, and periodically bobbing his head up as a buxom redhead with killer legs, veiled only by a Gucci dress and Ferragamo pumps, dangles a peeled grape above his lips. "Ahh, Rima darling," he sighs ... "Life is good."
"So, darling ... what's first on the list in St Tropez?" asks Rima Sibil, batting long lashes over her blue eyes.
In reply he reaches over with a big hand and gives her a squeeze in a strategic area. "A light supper should be laid out ready after we land ... then I've arranged a little entertainment for a few hundred friends and neighbours, with Paul Van Dyk personally laying down some beats for us. Dancing under the starry Riviera night ... and afterward, well ... I'm sure we can think of something." Together they laugh, and share a sip of Glenmorangie poured from a crystal decanter.
Suddenly Rima stops, with her hand to her head. "Ohh ...!"
"What is it, pussycat?" enquires the Evil Genius.
"It's my twin again ... I'm feeling ... she's up to something, Aedhie ... some mischief. You know I only have a sort of occasional link ... just feelings now and then. But she's up to something. I know THAT feeling."
Aedh relaxes again. "Well, thank you Rima ... good to know. I'll have a routine sweep of the office complex done, just in case ... but I'm not worried. I mean, she'd have to have some sort of alien technology to just zap in and out ... and you know who has the lock on THAT market." He grins again speaks a few words into a comset, and then and pulls her down to him.
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Cleric
Oct 8, 2007 17:19:53 GMT -5
Post by Witcher Wolf on Oct 8, 2007 17:19:53 GMT -5
[Excellently done Mira]
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Cleric
Oct 8, 2007 17:37:43 GMT -5
Post by Vespertilio on Oct 8, 2007 17:37:43 GMT -5
[It's here that I bow out of this, unfortunately I don't have the time and with what's going on in my life right now, the inclination.] [No problems! If I can get out of this place RL I'll bounce back in, but you never know who as or how! Or how many! Vesper seems to have it covered anyways ] [My RL writing schedule is so hideous right now as well I can't concentrate on anything else too ] Awww...we'll miss you! I hope your RL schedule dials back to something manageably sane soon.
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Cleric
Oct 9, 2007 9:03:11 GMT -5
Post by Mirabilis on Oct 9, 2007 9:03:11 GMT -5
*Points sonic screwdriver at cabinet and depresses a small button.....a thin blue beam lances out and begins to melt the locks* Heheh....oh this is TOO easy!! *footsteps suddenly can be heard approaching from the other side of the office door...echoing on the luxurious marble slabs* CRAP!! I was so close!!! *looks around in a panic...spots a large double closet in far corner of room...sprints over...wrenches door open and dives in...slamming the door behind..panting. It's very dark in the closet.....and warm....and there's the sound of breathing...someone else's breathing* WTF? *hissing whisper* Who's that??? Who's in here with me?? *silence..then a small cough* Ahem....I'm Peabody...from Pricey,Watered-Down & Coppedout and I'm hiding from EG Aedh.....I was sent to do an audit here but someone told me what he does to auditors...so I panicked and hid in here before he came into his office! *more silence followed by the sound of Father hyperventillating* GAAAAHHHHH!!! NOOOOOOOO!!! NOT AUDITORS!!!!! LEMMEOUTTAHERE!!!!!! *Closet door bursts open and Father once more lands in a tangled heap on the shag pile....desperately clawing at the wrist teleporter....which just makes a pathetic whining noise followed by a flashing red light with the words......"BATTERY LOW." Ohhhh I DON'T BELIEVE THIS!!!! Why me.....WHY ME? ?? *the office door shakes as somebody tries the handle...Father shoots under the desk and tries not to breathe as the door opens and she sees a pair of legs in very tall patent leather heels enter the room...the click of the heels muffling abruptly as they sink into the carpet* *Thinks in horror* Oh no......I recognise those heels.....too many times have they clipped around the palace stomping on staff and kicking unfortunates in the unmentionables! What the HELL is Queen Mother doing here???
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Cleric
Oct 9, 2007 9:53:54 GMT -5
Post by Aedh on Oct 9, 2007 9:53:54 GMT -5
The unmistakable voice speaks in a low tone, as another pair of feet enters ... these wearing lower heels, moving with a weight--a power--and grace that are almost as equally indicative of their possessor.
"Zo, mein Pet ... I haff foundt you again, nicht wahr? How very ... fortunadte fur boce ov us ..."
The Queen Mother's heels stride and turn decisively. "You are nott heah by axxident, hein? Vy don'dt you tell Qveen Muzzer vot you are aftah, Liebling ...? Perhaps I couldt assist you ... Ey em not vidoudt rezources, you know ..." Her voice sinks to a sibilant purr: "Ah but of course, you are a zilent vun, aren'dt you? Strong, und zilent ... chust mein Type ..."
There's a moment of quiet, the larger feet approach, and the Queen Mother's heels walk straight toward the desk ... and disappear as a scrape and swish sound ... and a creak as some substantial weight settles on the desktop.
"Komm .... let me loogk into your Eyes ... ja ... ahhh ... let your Qveen Muzzer loogk into you ... Alles vill be ... mmm ... revealdt ... ahhhhh .... ohhh ..." The desk creaks again, and there is the sound of a zipper being undone, and the rustle of soft leather moving. "Ohhhhh ... mmmm ..." Unfortunately for anyone concealed in an uncomfortable position ... it sounds as though they might be awhile!
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Cleric
Oct 9, 2007 13:22:17 GMT -5
Post by Mirabilis on Oct 9, 2007 13:22:17 GMT -5
*Hunched uncomfortably beneath the groaning desk Father broods*
Good grief! Now all we need is bloody "Mein Kommandant" to start playing and it will be a full on fetish-fest!!
*There's a soft click from above and a wooden panel in the opposite wall slides open revealing a state of the art music system.....the little green lights come on...and that very music starts playing *
Oh great! Just bloody dandy!! Now I'll be stuck here for hours....the player's no doubt on a loop if I know QM!!!!
*She flinches as the desk starts to rock ominously in time with the music*
Shite...I have GOT to get away from here...and FAST!!
*She frowns at the wrist teleporter again...still flashing it's mocking warning.....then her eyes take on a calculating glint and she reaches down carefully into her pocket and pulls out the sonic screwdriver again and very gingerly aims a pinpoint beam at the battery compartment on the wrist device. The red light blinks a few more times then suddenly turns green procaliming a joyful "BATTERY FULL."
Yes!!! Reeeesult!!
*In her excitement she fumbles the scewdriver as it goes back in her pocket and out pops the pot of pepper...bounces once then breaks open, spewing it's contents in an acrid cloud*
Oh..no......oh....nonononononononoOOOO...aaaaAaaAAAAAAaAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAA AAAAAAACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!
*Her hands fly up slapping the underside of the desk.....and the desk suddenly becomes cocooned in shimmering black and green spandex......there are sudden sounds of muffled indignation and protests from above*
Uh-oh......time I wasn't here!!!
*Scooting out quickly on all fours and running in a crouch she turns to see a writhing black mass on top of the desk...the shapes of hands and feet clawing at the stretchy material from inside...an angry voice piercing the air*
Schpannndex!!!!? SCHPANNDEXXXX!!!!!! I HATE ZE SSCHPANNDEX!!!! GRRRRRRR.....FAHZER??!!!!! It haz gott to be you!!!! Vait til I get mein hands on you....OH JA!!! YOU VIL SUFFER FOR ZIS!!!!!
*Father quickly dusts herself off and steps back hands on hips, smirking*
Queenie...you never were any good at playing Twister!! HAHA! Time to go now........OOOOOOOOF!!!!!!!!!!!!
*As she reaches to press the teleport button a small nimble shape streaks out of the closet, leaps and clasps her around the waist in a rugby tackle*
What the......... *POP....they disappear*
*POP....they reappear*......hell are you doing??? ARRGHHH! GET OFF ME!!!
*Father looks down to see the plaintive face of a small bespectacled male in a dark pinstripe suit looking up at her like a rabbit caught in headlights...still clutching her tightly around the waist*
YOU again!!! Will you get off me!!
*He releases his grip finally and tries to adjust his wonky glasses in the limited space available to them*
I'm.....ummm...sorry about that....but I HAD to get out of that closet and that building....I'd been in there for seven hours!!!
*Father looks down at him, lip curling*
Well you got your ride...now get AWAY from me!!
*He looks crestfallen...then seems to suddenly take note of their surroundings*
That might be...ummm...difficult...as we ..umm...appear to be in the toilet of an aircraft....looks like a private jet.
*Father gawps and looks around...noticing the fancy monogrammed fluffy hand towels and luxury soaps... ~E~G~A~*
Oh this just gets better and bloody better!!! Only ONE person has THOSE initials and in THAT style!! And WE have to end up in his bloody mile high club bog!!!!!
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Cleric
Oct 9, 2007 14:37:51 GMT -5
Post by Aedh on Oct 9, 2007 14:37:51 GMT -5
The door opens, and Mr Peabody looks over, then double-takes ... Father is standing there--but over here, too? It's a mirror--but--THAT 'Father' has a feathered hairdo, snappy Italian designer pumps, and a little black Gucci dress, which, he can't help thinking, must have added up to some 3,300.00 plus applicable taxes and fees--depreciable at--he shakes his head again ... No! Not now!
In the same instant, the newcomer, with a quick decision, has taken a step in and snapped the latch. With a toss of her head, arms akimbo, she gives Father a hand up. "Silly cow!" she says sotto voce, her blue eyes flashing. "I don't know how you got here Sis .... but do you know just where here is, and just who is sitting--" she gestures--"about ten feet away thinking I've gone for a second to get some massage oil??"
Peabody looks from one to the other, dumbstruck. Both Fathers look at him and nod once. He whimpers quietly.
"Darling ..." calls a baritone voice known to all of them.
"Yes, Aedhums ... just--um--freshening up a moment ..." calls back Father #2, turning, her pushup bra making her already-ample bust bulge out and strain the dress' stitching as she leans against the door. Then she turns back. "And just who is this?" she hisses, with reference to Peabody, who blinks and pulls out a Pricey, Watered-Down, and Coppedout business card. "Oh!! Look ... um--"
"Didn't you 'freshen up' twenty minutes ago?" inquires the voice from without. "Are you alright darling?"
"Yes ... um ... I mean ... it's jammed in here," Father #2 calls back.
"Jammed?? ... in MY private supersonic jet ... which costs me no less than 11,212 per month upkeep, noted on Schedule B-6 as a business expense claimed against gross corporate revenues at the 4.25% Evil Genius rate??" exclaims the voice outside. Peabody gives a small, nervous smile, recognising another business mind at work, and makes a note about the four-and-a-quarter on his shirt cuff. "Lemme in dear--I'll have that plunged out in a trice."
"Oh no, darling ... it's your hard-earned Evil Genius executive week-end ..." Father #2 says urgently. "What do you have minions for, after all?"
There's a pause outside. "Minions ... ? I don't recall bringing any minions along."
Father #2 yanks open a small wall-locker and hands the pair of them orange coveralls ... as Peabody steps into his, she then reaches up and in again, and quickly and firmly jams Cyberman helmets on each of their heads. "Yes dear ... I did it, I admit ... without telling you I'm afraid darling ... last-moment feminine intuition ..." She puts a plunger in Father's hand and a bucket in Peabody's as the door is wrenched open .... and the burly figure of the Evil Genius, swathed in a silk Chinese gown, looks in.
"Cybermen?" he says. "Well ... they ARE good at menial tasks I suppose ... like swabbing out bogs and staffing Neo-TESCO locations ..." He looks the pair of them up and down with a residuum of habitual evil-boss suspicion.
"We aRe taSKed tO seRVice thiS FliGHt," says Peabody confidently, now in his element. "CyberControl maKes nO eRroRS." PWdC is a firm well-acquainted with the ways of dull, mechanical drones--and remote, inflexible bureaucracies. He turns and hits Father on the nut with a smart CLANG! "LeSs GaWKing, morE pluNGinG 76093-ZeD!"
Aedh takes his companion's hand. "Well well ... we'd better let the buggers crack on with it then." He shuts the door ... almost ... and looks back once more. "Kinda ... small for Cybermen aren't they?"
"Service models my love ... experimental." Father #2 gives him a kiss and shuts the door firmly.
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Cleric
Oct 9, 2007 21:21:42 GMT -5
Post by Aedh on Oct 9, 2007 21:21:42 GMT -5
Oh great! Just bloody dandy!! Now I'll be stuck here for hours....the player's no doubt on a loop if I know QM!!!!*She flinches as the desk starts to rock ominously in time with the music* [The lyrics from an '80s disco hit by Baccara come to mind ...] Yes sir, I can boogie ... but I need a certain song! I can boogie--boogie boogie--all night long!
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Cleric
Oct 10, 2007 6:58:19 GMT -5
Post by Aedh on Oct 10, 2007 6:58:19 GMT -5
Elsewhere … [/b] the newest Neo-Tesco retail outlet billows softly, its outline wobbling under a bright, sunny sky. Birds twitter … bees buzz …the sweet grass ripples in the springlike breeze. The Cyberman crew take up their places with characteristic efficiency … and wait patiently to carry out their assigned tasks. The TescoTron has finished its work long since, rumbling down the road past a metal sign on the verge, whose weathered surface bears some half-effaced writing: “W..com. t. Pl..et … ra … pop. ..32.”
Within the space of an hour, however, a tall, shapely female, clad neck to knees in clingy, stretchy fabric, with hiking boots and sporting a ray gun in a belt and a sweatband across her flowing brown locks, emerges from the trees, and looks cautiously. She beckons, and soon several others like her—varying, but all wearing in the same fabric, emerge. They confer quietly among themselves, and approach the corner of the building.
They feel it … stroke it under the warm rays … look at its familiar, clinging texture … then, exchanging looks of radiant joy, they all pile toward the door. Several use cell phones, and within another hour the location is besieged by laughing, chattering women in athletic togs … hundreds and hundreds of them, emerging in little groups, happily loaded with bulging shopping bags of the well-known white with five blue stripes.
Elsewhere again … [/b] a comset beeps in an office suite, and a blandly-smiling, bespectacled man in a white shirt and solid tie picks up.
“Yes, Leahy … Eh? … ahh … well well!! Excellent!” he exclaims, his smile taking on a note of real contentment. “Selling out are they? Well, Henderson, resupply at once! … divert other shipments if you must. Yes … keep me posted. Every Little Helps!”
He turns and punches a speed-dial number. “Hello? Yes, Sir Terry here … Well sir, it seems as though an odd accident somehow befell the new location—no no, we’ll have the TescoTron checked out again--but maybe it was NO accident after all … yes … well their planet’s never had modern retail before … the new Neo-TESCO location on Planet Lycra is tracking toward one of our best opening days for any store in its class! The local Lycran Vixens--yes … quite! … You’re welcome sir—Every Little Helps!” He rings off and hauls out a calculator … punches a few buttons and puts it away. Then he calls his stockbroker with a substantial ‘buy’ order, and sits back again, humming a little ditty, now with a rare look of genuine and sincere satisfaction.
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Cleric
Oct 10, 2007 17:50:17 GMT -5
Post by Mirabilis on Oct 10, 2007 17:50:17 GMT -5
*Father stares at the back of the door after it closes and is momentarily still and silent....then there is a strangled sort of metallic snort and her head swivels around to look down on her shorter companion....then with one swift motion she brings the plunger down with a clang on the side of his cyberman helmet* LeSs GaWKing, morE pluNGinG??? I'Ll giVe yOu LesS gaWkinG!!! Do yUo reMeMBer...dO yOu...KNoW who I AM??*Peabody cringes away...bringing his hands up protectively* BuT.....bUt......I haD tO mAke it lOOk cONvincIng!!! WhAT wOuld haVE haPpENed iF hE'd diSCovereD OUr idENtitiEs?? No...DOn't aNSweR thAT...I ALready KnoW!!*Father shakes her head then yanks off her helmet...her tangle of red hair tumbling down around her shoulders again* Father DOES NOT clean goddam toilets...for ANYONE!!! What the HELL is my sister doing with him anyway...HIM of all people...I just can't believe it!! *Peabody blinks again looking thoughtful* WeLL he IS a caNNy buSIinesSMman wiTH shARes in oVer 100 MaJor coRPorations...nOt tO meNTtioN oWninG a FutheR ...........*his voice trails off as he catches the look on Father's face staring at him..... THE LOOK...the one that he remembers from a thousand giant telescreen broadcasts around Libria...the face that used to haunt his dreams every night..... ah yes...those dreams...so clear...so vivid...so.....*Peabody!! Will you SHUT UP and remove that helmet before I weld it permanently to your tiny little auditor's head!! *He snaps out of his reverie, blushing and reaches up to pull it off........Father is struggling out of her coveralls...ample figure catching on it's creases and folds as she strains to peel the bright orange material off with as much dignity as the limited space will allow..........Peabody just blinks and stares.....then quickly looks up to examine a suddenly very interesting rivet in the ceiling as she glances sideways at him momentarily* I really have to find some new clothes to wear...this spandex won't last much longer...*she chuckles suddely*.....did I mention about the other unfortunate side-effect of my spandexitis? The spandex dissolves after a few hours....leaving a very nasty, gloopy, sticky and thoroughly unpleasant coating on whatever it's covering at the time.....pretty much impossible to remove. That Tesco I left behind me will be nothing but a heap of molasses shortly......and woe betide anyone or anything caught inside when THAT happens! *Finally out of her utility garment she edges to the door and opens it a tiny crack, peering out cautiously. There's a whiff of incense in the air and the sound of soft music coming from further off down the corridor mingled with the unmistakable giggles of her sibling that she knows so well. Father grits her teeth and opens the door wider...moving out slowly and silently...heading for a door in the opposite direction to the sounds....then she glances back at Peabody who is still standing there in his coveralls looking rather lost* I'm going in there...looks like the bedroom....I need to get changed fast and I'm pretty sure Rima must have some spare togs I can borrow...I suggest YOU stay put and keep a look out...let me know if somebody comes this way. But I... *Before he can say any more she's slipped through the bedroom door and is striding across the thick carpet to the double wardrobe on the opposite side of the room. Opening the doors she's presented with racks of clothes of all styles and colours...all of it looks expensive.* Huh...well you certainly fell on your feet my dear Rima I'll say that for you......just what does he make you do to earn all this lot I wonder.....*ahem*...no..let's not go there! *She pulls out some black leather trousers, matching knee boots, black leather tank top and a long, ankle length black leather coat* Ah...perfect....almost back to what I was wearing before I spandexed myself! *She moves over to the full length mirror in the corner of the room and proceeds to get changed. As she's fastening the last button a sudden commotion outside the door makes her whirl around.......a familiar booming baritone voice cutting through the air* You stupid, bloody clumsy, idiot cyber drone...just LOOK what you did!! And ALL over my best Chinese silk wrap!!! I'll have you decommissioned for this!! Sent to the knackers yard!!! Have you melted down to make me a new cigar case!!! ........And WHERE is the other one?? Oh...in HERE??? In my.....PRIVATE....executive bedroom?? We'll soon see about THAT!!!*Father stares in horror as the door handle starts to turn.....gropes for her wrist teleporter...stumbles over the discarded coverall on the carpet....and falls backwards toward the giant super king-size bed.........POP.....and vanishes*
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Cleric
Oct 11, 2007 13:21:59 GMT -5
Post by Aedh on Oct 11, 2007 13:21:59 GMT -5
Back at the office complex ... [/b] Aedh's security chief, the usually taciturn Samira, has received and made several calls. As befits a master Cleric, she does everything calmly and coolly, though the evening has certainly been 'not without incident' so far, except for what might have been almost an offbeat blink during a conversation with someone calling from an air-board satellite phone. She clicks off her earset and looks around the drab, utilitarian, thoroughly Librian underground crew room with its concrete walls and steel racks and lockers and stacks of electronics, with a mottled, scarred, coffee-ringed deal table in the middle. This is her turf—like her, thoroughly dark and practical. But she hadn’t promoted here lightly. It had taken her some serious ass-kicking and a modicum of treachery to get that reclining office seat in the director’s cage, and she intended to keep it.
She looks around at the table, under the bare bulbs … a whiff of blue cigarette smoke drifts from Rex Rufor’s ashtray. Probably the only chain-smoking Ninja Master in the world, she thinks with distaste, and he winds up here. Darth Vegan doesn’t look pleased either, and activates the air cleaner in his masked helmet, which starts to purrrrr. The Comic, looking bored and irritated, slouches in his chair, toying with his mini-flamethrower lapel gardenia—it lets off a little whiff of fire at one point when he squeezes the bulb a bit too hard; and Katzenweib, slightly incongruous in iron-tight corset boots sticking out below a fluffy 'Hello Kitty' bathrobe, casts what might be a watery glance of envy at the smouldering stick of consolation. She claps a fleshy hand to her mouth to stifle a lager belch. There are several other assorted minions, mostly assistant to these senior staff, and a few of her own Neo-Sweepers.
Cretins, thinks Samira severely. Why the Chief wants this lot around, I’m sure I’ll never understand …
She begins: “I’ll keep this brief. I just spoke with the Chief again … he’s not pleased. To put it mildly. Two intruders--one an Auditor-- making it onto his private supersonic jet disguised as Cybermen, and one mysteriously disappearing in midflight. His executive office suite penetrated by parties unknown who covered his desk with Spandex … oh, and programmed “Mein Kommandant” into his state-of-the-art office stereo …” Here she casts a flickering glance at Katzenweib, who replies with a flashing look of indignation. “Space-time anomalies conforming to the arrival and departure of a TARDIS … this is making all of us look … sloppy,” she finishes, conscious of the accuracy of that impression, and more than slightly nettled that she was getting included in it.
The Comic leans forward. “Surely, Samira daaaahling, these security failures rest on your sinewy shoulders,” he says softly. Then he grins. “I’m but a traveling entertainer.” He produces a bouquet of flowers out of thin air and starts handing them around, placing the last few in impassive Neo-Sweepers’ lapels.
“I think we’d best all look to our own interests,” Samira retorts, “which would include staying alive. He’s tasked each of us personally with certain assignments, with the assurance that he’ll have the failures personally teleported to Planet Dookie for a few years of calm meditation.” At this the room quiets suddenly. They all remember what happened to Professor Morty Artie, whose promised stolen bangers-and-mash super-recipe turned out to be nothing but a bundle of old Ladbrokes betting slips in a cunning switch pulled off by detective Sure-locked Homes.
The whip cracked, she proceeds. “These are direct orders from him—if you think I’m making them up, you’re free to call his satellite number and run the risk of disturbing his executive resort weekend … “ The silence is now palpable. “Comic, you are to dispatch every available Klown Krew to cause ruckus in the City, under cover of which you’ll follow the instructions in this sealed envelope.” She hands him one. “Rex Rufor, you are to have your Ninja teams penetrate the following areas outlined here …” She passes one his way. “And take particular care with Father’s executive residence. We’re foreclosing on it, and it may be up for auction very, very soon."
Rufor nods. "Ah, so."
“Katzchen, your valuable assistance is needed. Cats can go places people can’t. Your instructions are here … and you’re allowed all the lager it takes to get the job done,” she adds, turning the heavyset Frau’s glower into a smile. “And, esteemed Sith-lord-soon-to-be, you will coordinate with Shagneto to make certain, um, adjustments in certain local electrical fields, and monitor the results. Your instructions are here,” she finishes, passing him, too, an envelope. “I also have my own directives. I wasn’t authorised to set a time limit, but I think we all know when the Chief likes things done when it’s urgent …”
The chorus rises. ”Yesterday.”
“Very good. Any questions …? Excellent.” Samira rises, concluding the meeting. “Let’s go, team. And remember, if things get difficult … think--dookie.”
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Cleric
Oct 13, 2007 0:50:33 GMT -5
Post by Vespertilio on Oct 13, 2007 0:50:33 GMT -5
*meanwhile*
A 12 inch tall Doctor, carrying his still normal sized sonic screwdriver over his shoulder, leads a small army of Cat-Monkeys towards the Spandex Tesco. The TARDIS is pulled along behind them on a cleverly (and swiftly built) wheeled wooden cart...
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Cleric
Oct 13, 2007 17:27:01 GMT -5
Post by Mirabilis on Oct 13, 2007 17:27:01 GMT -5
*POP......Father re-materialises in a very cramped space surrounded by blinking lights and small video screens with unintelligible readouts* Where the hell am I now??? *She cranes her neck around, studying the circuit boards and electronic panels...her eyes taking in a small metal ladder running up one wall to a hatch with a handle, right above her......then her eyes travel back down and focus on a small metal plaque with embossed writing...."Tescotron Concept MKI." Tescotr...... What the..... bloody hell!!! I'm INSIDE the damned abomination!! Hahahaha!!! Oh this is too beautiful!!! *She gropes down with some difficulty to the left pocket of the leather coat and carefully extracts the sonic screwdriver...then aiming it at the panel marked "Memory Bank" she hits the button and lasers it into complete meltdown. An angry buzzer sounds and red lights start flashing all over the walls...then a metallic female voice cuts in...* "Warning! Warning! System Malfunction!! Please report all damage to Sir Terry Leahy immediately......and if he's not available then EG Aedh should be notified as soon as possible!! Dayzee...Dayzee...give me your answer dooooo....."*Snort* You know....I'm reeeeeally starting to get pissed off with EG Aedh!!!! Time I got back to the bloody palace and started banging some heads together!!! *She looks at the ladder doubtfully, wondering what might be on the other side of that hatch....then decides to risk the teleporter again...this time trying to set the co-ordinates correctly* Here goes nothing.......*POP*
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Cleric
Oct 14, 2007 11:14:26 GMT -5
Post by Aedh on Oct 14, 2007 11:14:26 GMT -5
The meeting over, Security Director Samira resumes her seat in her reclining metal office chair in her meshed cubicle, and brings up a few items on her computer. With the mysterious appearances and disappearances ... first in the Boss' executive office, then private supersonic jet, then disappearing again ... there had to be some kind of means of individual space-time tinkering going on ... this indicated, most likely, a piece of alien technology gone astray somewhere ...
It takes some rooting around in the online archives, and a quick call to Telephone Support--the real Telephone Support in London, of course, not the duff number in Bangalore given out to flunkeys, subordinates, and lesser mortals generally--before she hits an interesting post in a secure online forum for the super-rich, super-select customer database of Starmaker Electronics ... the division of Aedhco Luxe which deals in imports ... "from out of this world."
NOTICE 406224AA ... PERTAINING TO PERSONAL WRIST TELEPORTERS FITTED WITH "SUPERFLYY" INFILTRATION UPGRADE THAT ENABLES THE USER TO TELEPORT TO THE INTERIOR OF OPPONENTS' MOST SECRET OPERATIONAL LOCATIONS. Sale restricted to select Government clients ONLY. Known clients include the secret services of four major Western powers ... also a prototype personally conferred upon Father.
HARDWARE ISSUE: After a few uses, item's guidance becomes unreliable due to massive intractability problems with location calculation parameters. SAFETY HAZARD: Users should discontinue use at once due to unknown but powerful epsilon-radiation field emanating from Planet Dookie. With each use, the pull of the planet's radiation field upon the device's nav-system increases, and the user shortly finds h/hself appearing on Planet Dookie with no ability to teleport anywhere except back and forth between the various regions of the planet: Poopie Plateau, Craptown, Colonic Central, Turd Flats, and the Rushing River Of ... etc.
SOLUTION: None known. Item slated for immediate recall and return to world of manufacturing origin ... which appears to be a planet of high-tech clowns armed with powerful telescopes, situated the next over from Planet Dookie.
STATUS REPORT: All teleporters successfully recalled, with the exception of four users. Three of these located (by electronic means) on Planet Dookie. As of this date, one unit still remains at large, whose serial number corresponds to the model awarded to Father. Father avers ignorance of the unit's whereabouts, claiming that she 'left it in a taxicab somewhere.' A search for this remaining unit is being conducted under the direction of Doc Mock.
Samira logs out, brings her black commando boots down with a thump, and stands up, shrugging a well-cut but still utilitarian field jacket on over her close-fitting black bodysuit This explains a few things ... the problem's quite simple after all. She permits herself a thin smile at the thought of Father landing with a slippery tumble on the slopes of Mount Steamer, Planet Dookie's volcano, famous for its eruptions of--well--not lava ... End of story.
She douses the overhead, leaving only the safety on inside, locks the cage, and goes out, leaving a few curt instructions for the pair of Neo-Sweeper guards.
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Cleric
Oct 14, 2007 14:48:16 GMT -5
Post by Mirabilis on Oct 14, 2007 14:48:16 GMT -5
*POP* Owwwwww!! Jeez......what the HELL!!!*Father flounders, up to her waist in some noxious liquid...warm and steaming ominously.....she struggles and grabs hold of a hunk of twisted metal jutting out of the soup and manages to haul herself slowly and painfully up until she's clear. Perched on top and hanging on precariously she looks around at what appears to be some kind of huge garbage disposal unit...metal and other unidentifiable debris piled up in mounds around her...four slime smeared walls surround her with no obvious way out.* *She groans out loud* Oooooh CRAP!!!!!! Well THIS is certainly not the palace...not unless QM had something new and unspeakable installed for one of her strange and unusual hobbies! *Below her a bubble suddenly breaks the surface and then heads off in a straight line trailing more smaller bubbles behind it* Aggghhhh!! What the frigg was that!!! HELLLLOOOO!!! CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME? I'M STUCK IN YOUR GARBAGE DISPOSAL WITH SOMETHING THAT LIKES TO SWIM AROUND IN..IN...well you know what I mean..whatever it is, that can't be good.....AND ANYWAY....I'D REEEEEALY LIKE TO GET OUT NOW PLEASE!!!! *Her voice bounces back at her from the walls followed by silence. Her hands are slippery on the rough metal as she brings her wrist up to peer at the teleporter...still with it's cheerful and now seemingly mocking green light* Dammit...every time I use you I end up in deeper shite...but what choice do I have? *Her finger hovers over the button and is just about to depress it again when a faint swishing noise comes from behind followed by an authoritative yet strangely compelling voice* I wouldn't do that it I were you sweetheart.....not unless you want to spend the rest of your days shoveling doodoo for a living! What you have there is a very defective personal wrist teleporter....I remember hauling a consignment from Planet KoKoLoco all the way to Earth....there was even one special one for that superfit redhead leader from Libria...that made my day I can tell you! I also remember having to haul almost the whole consignment back again because they were all on the fritz! Mass recall.....AND I haven't been paid for that little return journey yet!!! Bloody Klowns think it's all a huge joke I'm sure!! *Father stares, completely bemused, at a tall, ruggedly handsome male, gun slung carelessly over one shoulder, who is leaning nonchalantly in a doorway that wasn't there before* I'm.....umm...stuck......can we finish this conversation AFTER you get me out of here perhaps? *The man grins, steps aside and yells out behind him* SCREWY!!! FETCH!!! *There's a strange answering growl and a huge hairy biped, about ten feet tall with alarmingly mad glittering red eyes, squeezes through the doorway, leaps with surprising agility onto the rocking pile of scrap and reaches over to Father, it's lips suddenly drawing back in what can only be described as a full-on leer. Father bats it's hand away and tries to scramble further up the teetering mound of metal but it catches her around the ankle, hauls her back down and in one swift movement launches her up and over it's shoulder* ARRRgghhh!!! PUT ME DOWN!!!! GODDAMMIT......YOU CAN'T TREAT ME LIKE THIS!! *The creature moves rapid back across to the doorway and stands, still holding his passenger fast* OK Screwy you can put her down now. Screwy...I said put her down... NOW!!*Screwy seems reluctant to let go of his charge.....still slung over his shoulder and kicking like a mule.....instead curling his lip back again and patting Father's rear in a rather over familiar way. The man shakes his head and sighs* I'm not going to say it again Screwy...you know what will happen if you misbehave again with a...ummm....guest. Remember what happened last time??? *The beast's hairy hand falters and his eyes take on a fearful glint...then slowly he leans forward and let's the still flailing female slip to the floor....once more in an undignified tangle. Then she looks up at the man locking her gaze on his with THE LOOK* Do you treat ALL your guests this way? Or just the visiting VIPs? Do you have ANY idea who I am??? Why does nobody seem to know who I am?? I'm surrounded by cretins!!! It's like having a government cabinet meeting!!! *The man stares down at her, his eyes showing a mix of amusement, scorn...and something else. Then he leans forward and holds out his hand* Well...Your Ladyship...I'm so sorry that my humble freight ship offered you such a poor welcome....we'll try and make up for it with a champagne and truffle reception in the galley shall we! Screwy can be your personal waiter if you like....just don't ask him for a finger buffet!! *She eyes him witheringly then grudgingly takes his hand and he hauls her to her feet* So where is "here" exactly....and who are you? *She looks him up and down again...the view is not altogether unpleasant.....not at all in fact!* *Still holding her hand he shakes it and cracks another grin* Stan Slomo...captain and owner of this hunka junk, the Millennium Jumpstart...Screwy is my first mate....oh and "here" is en route to beautiful Planet Dookie. Welcome aboard! Umm...Your Ladyship....are you feeling okay??? You've gone a funny shade of white!
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Cleric
Oct 15, 2007 0:46:56 GMT -5
Post by Aedh on Oct 15, 2007 0:46:56 GMT -5
In the smoky depths of one of Libria’s downscale bars—where she does not care for the idea of being seen by anyone who’s anyone—EG Aedh’s personal executive assistant, the slim, deadly Mamba, gives a glimpse around the end of the partition toward the main lounge, flattening herself up against the cheaply panelled corridor that leads to the restrooms, broom closet, and emergency exit. She has, perhaps three minutes of grace from her boozy companion, and not very much respite from the muddy boom-boom-booming beat of a ZZ Top tune … which has been played several times already by an off-duty Sweeper Sergeant who’s even now blearily canvassing the place looking for her. She grits her teeth, remembering what her mother told her about hiring on with Evil Geniuses, and thinking that the old lady might have been on to something.
Under other circumstances, she’d take the idiotic cop outside and down the alley, and within seconds leave him senseless next to the dumpster … assuming she were here at all, which she wouldn’t be under other circumstances. Unfortunately, he’s a friend of Mamba’s aforementioned boozy companion--who insists on being here--and a minor but occasionally very useful cog in the bigger scheme of things. She does what she came to do, activating her com-unit and hoping to make herself heard over the racket.
“Yes—Ninety-Nine here—yeah, look, are you sure about this?” she asks. “Yeah … WHAT? … Well the Boss WILL hear about this, bank on that—I know—yeah—she insisted on ME being the designated driver— stupid cow!! WHAT?? Oh yes, splendid,” she says sarcastically. “We’re having the time of our bloody lives—WHAT?? …. Yeah—yeah—okay, right. There WILL be payback for this I assure you … yeah love you too, Seven.” She rings off, wishing she had one of the old handsets that she could at least close with a satisfying, irritated snap, but even this is denied her, so she rolls her eyes upwards and bangs her head once, gently but suddenly, against the panelling, and returns to the fray.
At a corner table, leaning back against the plastic upholstery, is Mamba’s charge and companion for the evening’s revels—Katzenweib. Arrayed in a rather too-tight and frighteningly-short PVC dress, her billowing curves picked out in highlight by the low illumination, and one hammy leg encased in a corset boot resting atop the somewhat sticky formica table, the Lager Mistress reclines, entirely in her element … surrounded by empty pitchers, one overflowing ashtray, and her foot being fondled by a creature in denim and leather, sprouting at least a few inches of hair from every available patch of skin … Mamba moves over, sidles in next to the Frau, and, putting her lips next to one fleshy ear, says in her clearest voice: “YOU READY KATZIE??”
The villainess, after a moment, blinks, her mascara somewhat gummy, and looks over at Mamba with a contented smile. “Ohhhhhhhhh … DAH-ling …! Zere you are! You run off und leaff Katzie-Watzie all alone viz zer Big Bad Volf!”
The creature lifts his head and breaks into a broad smile, showing perhaps six-and-a half teeth. The insignia on his denim vest, around a flaming skull over crossed PIUs, proclaims ’Hell’s Angels--Libria.’
“SORRY KATZIE—YOU KNOW HOW IT IS,” replies Mamba, glancing over and seeing the Sweeper approaching … suddenly looking not so bad next to Katzenweib’s newfound comrade. She slides out--but before she’s ready to deliver her crushing line to him, he’s intercepted by a woman of almost Katzian proportions,with dark pink hair and several studs in her lip, nostrils, and eyebrows.
“C’MON ROMEO!!” she tells the cop, spinning him around with a practised motion and giving him a shove. “I STEP OUTSIDE FOR FIVE MINUTES AND YOU’RE AT IT AGAIN!!” She gives him a double slap with a pocketbook, casts a spiteful glance at Mamba, mouthing, better luck next time, you--!! Mamba smiles sweetly with a shrug and spread hands, as the other gets her man in a right arm lock and propels him out the door.
In the meantime, Katzenweib has drained her pint, pulled her companion close and given him a slobbery kiss, and pushed the table back a bit, getting ready to stand. She scoots over, her ample endowments shifting around under the dress like a couple of Volkwagens jockeying for a parking space, and pushes herself upright … weaving a bit to be sure, but still, standing. Mamba counts no less than nine pitchers, all void of content but for bits of foam scum ... there's only four glasses that contained her own Diet Pepsis.
Katenweib blinks again, shakes her head, and says to Mamba: “Ja, daaahling … ve go, I t’ink.” It’s Mamba’s turn to mouth something—with a sigh of relief. She still doesn’t quite believe what Samira’s told her, but it does seem to strangely square with facts—and the dark little she-jock has ever been one to have her facts straight.
With a fake-leopard wrap now clasped around one, and a trim designer long coat buttoned around the other, and dark glasses on both, the pair of Evil Genius Aedh’s senior employees head out into the night … the one wobbling slightly on the other’s elbow. They proceed a block, turn down an alley, and after a few more turns wind up in a trash-strewn city backlot, surrounded by silent, frowning buildings on all sides. Mamba’s ears are still ringing, but the night air is cool and refreshing, with a touch of moisture in it. Katzenweib hunkers down, still weaving a bit, and Mamba wonders if she’s getting ready to hurl.
The Teutonic temptress’s head is down, now steady …. the incredible amount of lager in her now brewing up with some sort of magic from the moon, which suddenly appears over them from behind a cloud, shimmering, full and slightly bluish in the haze.
A sound starts from somewhere … low and deep … Mamba backs off—her Pradas have already had enough punishment tonight without getting spewed on … but the sound grows, and Mamba realises it’s something she’s only heard shop-talk about before.
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRrrRRRrrrRRRRRROOOOWWWLLLL …[/b]
And Katzenweib suddenly comes upright, throwing her thick arms out … emitting a succession of the eeriest noises Mamba’s ever heard. She no longer looks sloshed, or even tipsy—some strange brew-fuelled power possessing her … and within a minute a few cats have appeared. Katzie continues …
RRRRrrrRRRRREEEEEAHHHwwwlll …. rrrrrrROOWWWWW …!![/b]
Soon the lot is filled with dozens of cats—perhaps even a hundred—with more pouring in at every instant. Alley cats, pet cats, cats with bells, cats with bows, one-eyed cats, cats with docked tails; tabbies, tigers, calicoes, Siamese, Persian, Manx, American Blue … Mamba’s head whirls, and Katzenweib continues her siren song, crooning, yowling, crying … she crouches again, petting, rubbing, as they surge around her in an uncanny tide. Eventually, the woman riffles her wrap, turning around and around, then modulating to a sort of loud purr, almost like a large Diesel engine idling. The cats stop and stand or sit attentively as Katzenweib communicates with them in a succession of purrs, modulated singsongs, and other indescribable noises.
After a minute or so of this, Katzie’s voice rises again, bidding something, and the feline congregation begins filtering out, the way it had arrived … all seeming to have some common purpose. Mamba ventures near …. Katzenweib is standing now, stock-still and alone in the middle of the again-deserted lot, and Mamba decides to risk an approach with raised eyebrows.
Katzie turns to her with a smile … a sort of superior smile, but also warm and happy, like a mum who’s just had some cuddle time with her babies. “T’ank you, Mamba daaahling,” she says. “You may report zat zer Plan is proceeding …So! Fancy a nightcap?? I feel like szome … Tequilaa!” She takes a few dance steps back and forth, singing: ”DaDOM-bu-bu-BUM-da-dom-dom! DaDUM-bu-bu-BUM-da-dom!” to the tune of the old song by The Champs … and then leads Mamba back the way they came, the latter shouldering her purse and wondering if there’s anything at all left of the petty cash she drew to cover the bar bill.
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Cleric
Oct 16, 2007 19:17:52 GMT -5
Post by Mirabilis on Oct 16, 2007 19:17:52 GMT -5
Pla......Plan...Planet.... Dookie?? Oohh...I...I suddenly feel rather faint!! *Father staggers and sways, taking an unsteady step forward.......Stan's hands come up to catch her......and in one swift motion her hand shoots out and snatches the gun from his shoulder holster. Leaping backwards she brings it up with lightning speed and shoots him straight between the eyes....then spinning round she takes out the poor lumbering Screwy before he even has a chance to register what's just happened. She stands over their fallen bodies breathing hard....a mad gleam in her steely blue eyes...then sneers and tosses her red tresses back out of her face* You know....if EYE were an Evil Overlord....which come to think of it...is EXACTLY what I AM......I wouldn't waste time forming attachments with the crew of a passing intergalactic rust bucket once they'd rescued me from certain doom.....oh no....I'd get rid of them quickly and then high tail it back home as quickly as possible!!! Oh look.... I JUST DID!!!!! Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!! Ahem....dear me...I really MUST get some food and sleep...I get SOOO cranky when I'm lacking in both at the same time!!! *sigh* *She turns suddenly and dashes back along the corridor to the flight deck....leaps into the pilot's seat and punches a few buttons...* Huh...nothing but a glorified wrist teleporter with a few added extras! Piece of cake! *....setting co-ordinates and arming the warheads....* Hmmm....now why would a small time captain of a two bit tin can have two nukes on board for weaponry I wonder? *...and then switching to manual and gripping the steering handles she banks the craft and arrows it straight for Planet Dookie* Eeny, meeny, miny, moe..... target in sight...catch an EG by his toe........ locked on......if he struggles let him go.......eeny...........meeny........miny.........Moe. FIRE!!!*Two huge missiles launch and streak silently straight for the small floating ball of brown filth hanging there in space right ahead......quickly disappearing from sight in the thick greenish smog shrouding the planet. There's a moment of complete stillness....then a blinding white flash followed by a massive explosion, as Dookie it blown apart to become so much......slurry!* HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! BROWNOUT!!!!!!!! *She turns the ship again and punches in new co-ordinates......then straps herself in tight.....her eyes hardening as she looks out at the stars* No more Mr Nice Guy!!! You hear me EG? I am FATHER........and I'm coming home to personally wreck YOUR little empire! There's only room for one Evil Overlord...and it ain't gonna be YOU!!* She grins and throws the switch marked "hyperdrive"..........there is a strange, brief moment of time and space slowing down.....like being underwater.....then the ship.....and it's pilot.......and unfortunate former crew........wink out like a light.*
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Cleric
Oct 16, 2007 19:40:29 GMT -5
Post by Aedh on Oct 16, 2007 19:40:29 GMT -5
[Fascinating ... exactly how many times have you watched that Monty Python sketch "How Not To Be Seen" Mira?]
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Cleric
Oct 16, 2007 22:26:05 GMT -5
Post by Aedh on Oct 16, 2007 22:26:05 GMT -5
The ramp of EG Aedh’s private supersonic jet whispers down at the Villefranche jetport; a ‘chopper is there waiting to transfer him and Rima to St Tropez. The Evil Genius, looking trim in a white blazer and trousers, descends, giving Rima in her little black dress and heels his elbow. Below stands the three-person reception team: Mlle Tilly, natty in a tailored suit with clipboard--his vacation stand-in for the indispensible Mamba—and Gilles and Mahmoud, his two local bodyguards when he’s here, both large men, nearly the size of Aedh himself, with barely noticeable lumps in their Cleric coats.
As they take their first step onto the tarmac near the edge of the palms, Aedh notices a minivan nearby, but before he can say anything the door flies open, and several small figures dash toward him and Rima, yelling: Papa! Maman! Vous etes donc vraiments ici—Hurrah! Hurrah! The dreaded dark lord of Libria and his wife spend the next few seconds fending off with laughs, and then embracing, four excited, flame-haired children, aged five to twelve. Aedh lifts the smallest one into the air at arms’ length as if he were a watermelon.
[Note: dialogue translation from French activated.]
“Oof!” grins the Evil Genius. “Adrian, you little—I do believe you’ve grown an inch!! Alice—Alain—Adela! How good to see you all! What a surprise!” He looks over at the Ursuline nun entrusted with their tutoring, who has got out of the van and is standing demure but with a small smile of her own. “Sister Jeanne-Marie—you always did have a good intelligence connection!”
Rima, looking up from smiling into the eyes of Adela, the oldest, says: “Guilty again my love … I radioed ahead. They so wanted to see you again my dear!”
Aedh looks over at Tilly and the guards, then over at a laundry cart being wheeled out from under the jet’s cargo bay, with something in it, wrapped up, giving a little squirm now and then. Then he looks at the waiting ‘chopper, surveys his family again, and makes a quick decision.
“Gilles … countermand my previous order. Take that—“ he nods toward the cart—“and secure the contents in a … safe place for now. I’ve changed my mind and I’ll deal with that differently. Later. And send the ‘chopper back to base.” Rima beams … it wasn’t the little auditor’s fault he’d beamed aboard. Then he bends down, and straightens up again with eight-year-old Alice in his arms, suddenly pretend-solemn, looking deeply into the blue eyes that all the children share.
“What do you say, my dear … to--" here his eyes grow very round, as hers do too-- "to ice-cream?”
“Hurrah!” she squeals, as Sister Jeanne-Marie shakes her head in mock despair. And the six of them troop off toward the van, laughing and chattering, with much mussing of hair and many hugs.
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