Latest Posts by brushlesprouts - Page 2

Work Drabbles - Space Arm!

Made off of a random idea, which is like most of them. A tale of a space 

...

"And so your first thought was to stick your arm into it?" Dr. Fel'o said, running the DNA scanner over the officer's glossy black arm.

"To be fair," Officer Dent said, "It was just my finger and it sort of crawled up from there."

The medbay of the intersteller ship had been quarantined due to Officer Dent's malady. The scanner beeped and an image was brought up on the monitor on the other side of Dent's bed.

"It crawled up?" Fel'o said walked around to inspect the monitor.

"Yeah, you know like the way frost covers a window when it gets cold out?" Dent said gesturing with his left hand. His right arm remained motionless.

The doctored made a non-commital sound, looking over the diagnosis. "Well, it might be a parasite. Or a fungus." He stroked his chin. "Does it hurt at all?"

Dent shook his head. "It tingles once in a while but it doesn't hurt." He looked down at his arm, "What's the verdict doc?"

Fel'o ran his finger across some intricate readout data and sighed, "As a surprise to no one, I'm sure, we have no data on this." He tapped a few components to start up a new file, "I would like to take a sample."

Dent cleared his throat, "You gonna," he hesitated at the word, "Amputate?"

"I am tempted. Seems like the simple solution." Said the doctor, picking up a handheld tool with a long blade. "But I would rather we didn't do that." He set the tool down, "This is usually the part where the hapless scientist gets eaten by the parasite monster trying to protect its host."

Dent frowned at his arm, "It seems harmless enough. Juda accidentally slammed it in the airlock and it didn't eat anyone."

Fel'o turned sharply, "Slammed it in the airlock? Like," He smacked his fist against his arm, "Bam."

Dent nodded and made the same motion, smacking his fist against the arm. It continued to be glossy.

The doctor looked back at the data readouts. "Then maybe." He stepped away from the monitor and paced around a little. "Okay, let's try something else." He walked to his desk and grabbed a smooth, silver ball. He clicked a few buttons on it and it started to hum. He clicked again and the humming stopped.

"We are going to see if vibrations do anything interesting." Fel'o put the ball into Dent's hand. When he let go, the ball fell to the floor.

"Sorry, the hand can be finicky." Dent shrugged.

Fel'o picked up the ball, "But you said you can still move your arm."

"It jerks around sometimes. Like, when Juda went to slap me for getting my arm stuck, it just sprung up." Dent said, poking his arm with his other hand.

"I see," said the doctor. He held the ball over Dent's hand, "Okay, this time I'll have you catch the ball."

Dent sighed, "I dunno if I'll catch it, but I'll try."

Fel'o nodded and just as he dropped the ball, he screamed. A sharp, quick scream that made Dent tense. His hand clenched around the ball as it fell.

"There we go," Fel'o said. "I better note that it responds to reflex stimuli." He walked back to the desk and scribbled his notes.

Dent relaxed his shoulders but tried to focus on keeping his fist flexed around the ball. The hand remained clenched. Fel'o came back wearing a heavy lead protector and a plexipolymer mask. "Alright, let's try some medical science." He tapped a button on a remote and the silver ball began to hum again. Dent screwed up his face and shivered.

"Now that is a strange sensation." He said.

"Does it hurt?" Fel'o asked.

Dent shook his head, "Not really. More tingles. But less of a 'bam' and more of a wave. Like, ocean wave stuff." He said.

Fel'o nodded and observed the arm. It was still glossy but there were ripples spreading across the surface. Then, the ripples began to bubble and small spines were rumbling up from the surface. Little mountain peaks pinpricked across the arm and rose upward.

"Remarkable, it's like a non-nutonian liquid." Fel'o said, shaking his head. "Incredible."

"I think so too, but it is also kind of unnerving." Dent said. "Since, you know, it is my arm."

"Oh right. Let's end here for now." Fel'o clicked his remote and the ball stopped humming. He returned to his desk to scan the mountain of data.

Day 5 - Husky / Enchanted

Couldn’t help but notice that some of the prompts could do with a little overlap. So to make things a little easier on myself, I fused some concepts together. Should be interesting from here on out. Wish me luck.

...

Mal Mute, a Husky Kaiju famous for his wicked fighting style, pushed the door of the locker room open and tumbled inside. He ripped off this muzzle-mask and heaved heavily. His lips trembled, fangs dripping with saliva, muscles clenched and his body quaked. He dropped to his knees and clutched his head. Fighting to get control of his heart and his breathing, he curled into a ball on the locker room floor. The collar around his neck was glowing an ominous red light, radiating heat and digging into his furred neck. He gasped for air, fighting to get under control, fighting against a darker desire.

The locker room door pushed open. A looming figure in a long, dark cloke, stepped into the locker room and presided over the scene. He looked down the bridge of his beak, the master of the Dark Arts, Psychopomp. He tapped his crooked staff on the linoleum floor. Mal Mute brought a blood-shot eye up to him and a sweeping, clawed hand lashed out at him. Psychopomp didn’t flinch as the raking claw missed his face by mere inches.

“Good to see you again, too,” The Raven Kaiju said. “And how have you been?”

Recoiling his strike, Mal Mute shrank back against a locker. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, his color was white hot. His voice eeked out in choked whining.

“Okay,” Psychopomp said, “Let’s try this again.”

He tapped his staff on the ground again. The crystal at the top radiated a black energy that released a purple vapor. Snaking through it air, is slithered over to Mal Mute’s collar and encircled it. The blazing accessory began to cool, falling limp as if it had lost some kind of manic power it once held.

Mal Mute slumped against the lockers, dropping his head to his chest and heaving a sigh of relief.

Psychopomp stayed a relatively safe distance away, but spoke up, “Feeling better?”

The wolf Kaiju Fighter continued to focus on breathing. But managed to clear his throat to respond. “Much better. Thank you, Psy.”

At this prompt, Psychopomp set his staff aside and went to Mal Mute’s side to help him to a bench. Once seated, Psychopomp pulled out a small bone-shaped treat. 

“Here, Mal Mute” He said, “Eat this. It should help.”

Mal Mute nodded and took the treat, scarfing it down. 

“You know,” He said, licking his fingers, “When I’m out of the ring, you can just call me ‘Buster’. Mal Mute is just the ring name.”

Psychopomp sighed, “I am well aware of your name, Mal Mute, it is more a matter of keeping this relationship professional. I am, for lack of a better term, your caretaker, as of now.” He glanced at the collar around Mal Mute’s neck. “You said you had it under control.”

Buster scratched at the collar around his neck. The source of his power and the reason he was a Kaiju in the first place. “I did.” He said, his voice meek, “But then the guy got a second wind. I had to raise the stakes to take him down.”

Psychopomp shook his head, “I warned you against using that...what did you call it?”

“Malignant Assault,” Mal Mute said.

“Right, that. I warned you against using it more than once. If you tap into that power too much you will lose yourself to it. I don’t have to remind you what happened last time.” Psychopomp put a hand on Mal Mute’s shoulder. “You have to accept your limits.”

Mal Mute nodded along, as he had always done before. But when the hand touched his shoulder, he felt something inside crack a little.

“No, I refuse.” He said, his voice was dark and sinister. “I refuse to accept limits.” He lifted his head to look at Psychopomp, his eyes getting red. “I promised him. I promised I would always be the strongest. That I wouldn’t lose to anyone!”

He stood up, at his full height, he managed to tower over the raven Kaiju. Psychopomp stood, unruffled, but he had picked up his staff and the purple vapor was already swirling around the crystal.

“It was the last thing I promised him before they came for him. He was not the best guy in the world, I knew that, but he fed me and gave me a home and a name. I will never forget his kindness, even if it means tearing everything apart!” He flexed his fist and slammed it against the lockers, causing them to warp considerably. 

“And then you killed him,” Psychopomp said. His voice was flat and cold. The purple smoke lashed around his body, ready to defend.

Mal Mute grit his teeth. “Yes, yes I did! He should have listened to me! He should have gotten behind me! There was no need for him to run onto the battlefield like that. He shouldn’t have tried to…” His voice cut out. Red eyes clouded with tears and words failed.

Buster dropped his head, “He shouldn’t have tried to save me.”

The collar around his neck radiated heat, but in a dull ache. He let the pain bring his mind away from painful memories.

“I know I am cursed,” Buster said, “But what am I supposed to do?’

Psychopomp let out a relieved sigh. “Not cursed, not necessarily.”

Mal Mute looked up, “What do you mean?”

Psychopomp stepped closer, but hesitated. “Do you mind if I touch the collar?”

Mal Mute shook his head and craned his neck to expose the pendant hanging from the collar. Psychopomp grabbed it and lifted it up. On the underside, there was an inscription. Part boiler plate, part eldritch magic.

“Your entire form runs on forbidden eldritch magic, yes,” Psychopomp said, he fished a small treat-shaped charm from his robe and snapped it onto the collar beside the pendant, “But with a few alterations, it can be honed.” 

The heat of the collar died down immediately. Mal Mute’s eyes went wide. As Psychopomp stepped away, he gingerly touched his collar.

“I...I don’t feel it anymore.” He looked at the raven Kaiju, “How did you do that?”

Psychopomp grinned, “Your caretaker happens to be the greatest master of the dark arts, a little eldritch enchantment was no match for me.”

Buster rushed forward and lifted Psychopomp in a bear hug. The raven Kaiju gasped for the breath that was being crushed out of his lungs.

“Holy tennis balls, Psy! This is the best thing ever!” He put the ruffled raven back down. “I don’t know how to repay you! I got some tickets to a big party coming up. Do you want to go? We could go together? You wanna go? You wanna go? You’re such a good boy! You wanna go?”

Psychopomp straightened himself out, “For a Fighter named ‘Mute’ you really prattle on.”

“Oh, that’s just the stage handle. You know, cause, a husky is like a malamute. But I’m a heel, a bad dog, so it’s a play on words. I thought it was really clever. And I get to wear a cool mask. But it is hard to breathe sometimes. Maybe I should get a new one?”

Psychopomp raised his hand, “Alright alright, easy there, Mal Mute.” He cleared his throat, “You have been given a new chance. I wanted you to step down, but it seems you are hellbent on staying in the ring.”

Mal Mute nodded intently. 

“Then the medallion should help you remain under control. But try to keep the Melodious Assaults to a minimum.” He said, tapping his staff to summon a swirl of purple mist.

“Malignant Assaults.” Mal Mute added, helpfully.

“Whatever.” Psychopomp said. “Oh, and yes, I will join you for the party. Send me an email, would you?” 

With that, the grand master of dark magic vanished from the locker room in a swirl of mystical purple haze. Mal Mute smiled and gave a thumbs up to no one. He would later pay a hefty fine for busting the lockers.

My favourite things about Scrivener

1. Navigation. You can see all your chapters, scenes, character & setting planning at one glance and switch between them very easily - compared to scrolling up and down in one long word processing document. Every file can also be a folder, so you can have collapsible items underneath it.

2. Word count targets. The “Project Targets” are particularly useful for NaNoWriMo so you don’t have to keep looking back at the website to see how you’re doing for the day, but more so outside of it, when you want to keep yourself working to a target but don’t have Nano’s charts and daily word counts. It also gives you a nice ding when you hit your session target.

3. How many pages? I only recently discovered this, but it’s very nice to be able to see in Project Statistics approximately how big your manuscript would be in pages without worrying about formatting. 

4. Outlining. Scrivener has two methods of outlining - one is Corkboard, which is exactly what it sounds like, a digital corkboard with notes pinned on it that represent your chapters/scenes with their summaries. The screenshot above is called ‘outliner’ and lists collapsible chapters/scenes with various statistics you can select as shown in the tick menu. Generally I prefer Corkboard, but Outliner is useful if you just want to see everything in a clear order. 

5. Full screen. I get distracted very easily when writing, so the full-screen writing mode is wonderful for me to avoid that - but you can still choose certain windows from the normal Scrivener view to show up. I have my targets and my summary, so I can stick to my plan when I’m writing and also see what progress I’m making.

6. Notes. No screenshot, but it’s a simple post-it note style box to the side of every document (chapter, scene, character etc.) that allows you to add notes. This may sound very simple, but it’s far more useful than I’d expected. During NaNoWriMo when I’m not meant to be editing at all, but I know something needs fixing, I will jot down something in the side like ‘Take out the horse’ so that when I go through again to edit I know exactly the things to focus on immediately but which would have taken too much time before. It’s linked to the scene so I don’t just have a pile of notes in one document at the end and then have to work out where it needs fixing.

Overall

I downloaded Scrivener for the first time two years ago, and now I can’t imagine working without it. It’s so nice to have the planning and the writing all combined into one place where I can easily switch between the two. I haven’t yet got as far in a novel created in Scrivener to use the compile features so I can’t comment on those, but so far all my experiences of it have been good.

One thing to note is that if transferring project between a Windows and a Mac version of Scrivener, it’s generally best to zip the file first.

[Screenshots from my current novel Kindling Ashes using the Mac version of Scrivener - some features may not be available in Windows yet.]

Magical Dangers

In this world, magical creatures exist alongside human beings. They have been helping us in small ways, more as appeasement than some sort of benevolence.

...

The room bustled with the shifting of chairs and the scribbling of notes. The company had brought in one of the top instructors in the field of magic theory to explain things to the industry leaders. The slides had been packed with information with the audience in different stages of understanding.

"Are there any questions so far?" The instructor said, levitating a glass of water to drift to his hand. He took a sip before adding, "Let's continue."

"Excuse me," an executive said, raising his hand, "So, why is it that humans are not allowed to use magic?"

The instructor turned from his presentation to look at the executive, seated among peers who had already shifted slightly away from him.

"Hmm, a good question. Are you prepared for the answer?" The instructor said. The executive nodded.

"Alright. Then let me begin by asking you a question. Why were you late to this meeting?"

The executive looked taken aback, then cleared his throat, "Uh, sorry about that. Had some trouble finding the meeting room."

The instructor nodded thoughtfully. Then he said, "You are lying."

The executive choked out a laugh and shrugged, "Right. Magic."

"No, not magic," The instructor said. He patted his terminal desktop, "Security cameras. The contents of which I will keep secure." He added to the panicked executive. "I apologize for scaring you, but this leads into my point. Humans can lie."

There came a murmur through the audience. Fae in the crowd gave uneasy glances to human coworkers. For their part, some gave apologetic nods and others gave indignant grumbles, and some stayed perfectly still and silent.

Another member of the audience raised their hand, a Fae woman. The instructor sipped his water again before acknowledging her.

"Does being able to lie make you unable to use magic?" She asked.

The instructor set down his cup and sighed. "Quite the opposite, my child." He turned to his terminal and tapped on the screen to open a new projection.

"Humans and Fae are not terribly different, you see." He clicked through the slides, each a colorful, albeit somewhat childish, depiction of humans and Fae.

"Among the most notable differences will be our lifespan," A new slide showed the young elf and the ghost of a human, "and our Oum," It showed the outline of an elf and a person with something glowing in their bodies. "Which has been loosely translated to the 'soul'."

The elf had a blue color while the human's was red.

A few members of the audience were taking notes, others had checked out and were scrolling through their devices. Still others, mostly humans, were watching and already forming the chip which grows on one's shoulder when they are told they are fundamentally incapable of something.

A young man in the front row wearing a rather irritated look on his face spoke up, "I don't see how being able to lie means we can't use magic."

The instructor became visibly irritated at the interruption.

"Again, it's not that you can't, it is that you are not allowed." The screen clicked off as he faced the audience. "Because it isn't the lies you tell others that makes you dangerous," He gestured to the audience, "It's the lies you tell yourself!"

The room darkened and speckled with flickers of lights, the air became a dazzling display of the night sky.

"Humans try to fathom the impossible. The infinite of space and time and you have made marvelous progress. But how much can you hope to comprehend? You live for barely a century and half of that is spent in diapers!" The lights in the room began to hum and float around, circling the instructor.

"You are like bees. Industrious and fascinating, but dangerous in your numbers. If a single bee were to come to you and ask for the method to nuclear energy, not only would you doubt she would understand, but if she did even by mistake figure it out, you could scarcely trust that she would be responsible with it! It's just not in the nature of these tiny beings to handle things so far beyond their ken." The instructor tapped one of the motes of buzzing light. It turned red and began to spin around faster and faster. "And if just ONE of these little, marvelous beings manages to seduce the secrets from you and the rotten history of your kind repeats itself--" He trailed off as the red buzzing light flickered and exploded, causing a wave of heat and a shower of sparks, and left the room empty of light. The instructor held up his hand, where the manacle on his wrist hummed with a red light, "Well, you have to bear the weight of your decision forever." He dropped his hand. The room was silent.

Eventually, he lifted his head, the light returning to the room.

"May I continue?" He asked. He nodded to the following silence. "Very well." He clicked back to the original presentation and continued.

Text: I saw a man get struck by four different bolts of lightning, and stand up. “Family drama,” he muttered as he spotted me, rolling his eyes. 

Day 4 - Freeze

I appologize, this one got way out of hand. Hopefully you still enjoy.

Prompt: Freeze

Title: A Pilot is the Soul

At the Combat Robotics center in the big city, a crowd of photographers and important looking people in suits had arrived to witness the latest prototype in Fighter Robo being showcased that day. Investors from leading tech companies, as well as KFL fans, had gathered to see the fruits of their investments. As well as the return of a retired KFL Robo Pilot. One dapper gentleman known as Danny Fierce. He was one of the first humans who took his military combat robo rig and had it refurbished for KFL fights. 

His majestic partner stood at the entrance, proud as the day it was re-commissioned for the KFL. For his part, Danny walked up to an anxious-looking intern that was frantically looking around, clutching her clipboard and pen.

“Hey, excuse me. The email didn’t say where to go.” He said, slipping off his weathered cap and scratching his head, “Don’t suppose you could help with that?”

The intern gasped, “Oh thank goodness, we thought you got lost.” She clicked her pen and brought it to her mouth, “Mr. Fierce has arrived at the north entrance, I’ll take him to the briefing room.” The pen crackled some kind of response. She smiled and waved to him, “Follow me please.”

They slipped past the crowd and into the center. Passing by the posters and displays for the latest prototype. There were even some inside the elevator they rode to the top floor. Danny took note of one beside him. He muttered to himself.

“The Maverick mark two. Synthetic craftsmanship honed to its utmost potential? Pah,” He said shaking his head, “Just give me a rig and hold the synthetics.” He looked to his guide, she kept politely silent. 

The elevator opened up to a conference area. At the main podium, was the leader of the Combat Robo program. She waved to them.

“Yes yes, come in. Glad you could make it.” She said and gestured to a seat beside her. “For the guest of honor.”

Danny smiled and made his way past the other rows of tired-looking scientists and engineers. Some had let their chins dip to their chests and were snoring softly. When he arrived at the podium, he reached out to shake her hand.

“Danny Fierce, reporting for duty, Miss--”

“Doctor, actually,” She said, taking his hand, “Doctor Abigail Bishop.” She smiled and gave his hand a firm shake.

Danny smiled and nodded, “Got it,” He took his seat beside the podium, “Please continue.”

“Of course,” Doctor Bishop said. “Today is the big day team. We’ve put in the hours and now comes time to show it off to our eager investors. Right now, they are getting the VIP treatment and the awesome sizzle reel that our media team was nice enough to put together.” She said and motioned to a group seated in the back. They gave a weary cheer, the rest of the congregation applauded.

“And speaking of VIP treatment,” She said, “A round of applause for our very special guest, the renowned robo pilot Danny Fierce.” She clapped, others followed suit. Danny waved politely.

“We stand at a crossroads, my fellow creators,” She continued, “A new era is about to dawn. We have suffered through the setbacks and struggles of mark one, but with this, the mark two, we shall showcase the incredible might of Combat Robo development team!” She clicked a small remote and a projection shot up from the center of the room to showcase the specs and holographic design of the new robo rig. Supportive applause fluttered around the room.

Danny leaned forward.”Say, that’s pretty compact,” He said, “How is a pilot supposed to fit in there?”

Doctor Bishop smirked at him and clicked the remote again, “Oh no no, my archaic friend.” The image switched over to a spec readout, a highlighted phrase said, “Remote Operation and Autonomous Control modes”.

He leaned back, “Ah, I see.” He folded his arms and shook his head, “I dunno, you take the pilot out of the rig, the metal ain’t got no soul.” 

She wore a professional smile, the kind hewn from stone and salt that belies the teeth clenched behind tightly pressed lips. 

“Well, old man,” She said, “That’s what we are here to showcase.” She clicked the remote again. It brought up the specs of Danny’s rig, the Dandy Piston, and the not so flattering details. Including but not limited to a highlight phrase that said, “Unpredictable Human Error”.

“Oh, I get it now.” He said, a smile played across his face. He looked at her, “A friendly exhibition.”

She smiled, “Friendly, yes.”

The meeting dispersed and the crowds gathered at the research center’s KFL ring. Maverick Mk.2 was standing proudly inside the pristine ring. Carbon-fiberglass platting designed to look like an upright fighter jet with legs. Sleek, deadly, and super cool. 

Opposite the black and red rig was Dandy Piston, Danny’s faithful rig. The center was kind enough to get the cobwebs off of it before having it deposited into the ring. Danny stood on the staging balcony situated at what would be called the rig’s neck. Danny slipped into the last of his piloting gear, modeled after the aviators of old, all leather and insulating fur. The most high tech thing on his person, the headset the Doctor was nice enough to lend him, buzzed in his ear.

“Are you ready?” The voice was the anxious intern. 

“Just about.” Danny responded. He popped open the hatch and slipped his way down into the gyro cockpit. He sat back in the pilot seat, a wave of nostalgia washed over him.

“Hey there, you old fool, you remember me?” He ran his hands over the various levers and dials that made up his configuration. He took his time remembering each switch and the feel of the pedals under his feet. “Got another fight left in you?” 

He slipped his hand under the main console and triggered the startup command. The cockpit hummed to life, lights flickering on and gauges spinning to calibration. The music of the machine took Danny to a special place in his mind. A time of great battles, struggles, fear, and triumph. He smiled.

“Uh, are you ready, yet?” The anxious voice said in his ear.

Danny sighed, letting his shoulder slump. “Can’t let me have anything, can ya,” He muttered before adding, “Yeah yeah, we’re ready to rumble.”

Up in the command center, a host of the section leaders were gathered in front of various terminals, all whirring and beeping with up-to-date information of the condition of the Maverick. Doctor Bishop walked the rows, checking on last-minute adjustments.

“Matilda, Flick me the diagnostics. Marco, make sure the software is at its most recent patch, should be 11.5.1. Chell, no drinks at the terminals, please thank you. Juliette?” 

The anxious intern looked from her terminal, lifting an earphone from her headset, “Yes, Abby?” 

Abigail cleared her throat.

“Oh uh, I mean, Doctor Bishop? What is it?”

She smiled, “How is the fossil doing?”

Juliette looked back at her terminal and leaned into the microphone, “Uh, are you ready yet?” She paused and then nodded, “Okay, he said he’s ready.”

Doctor Bishop clapped her hands, “Wonderful, then let’s begin.” She dashed to the front of the command center and clicked her remote, a camera drone floated up to record her.

Out in the KFL ring, a robo announcer drone flew up to address the audience.

“Honorable guests one and all. Welcome to our demonstration exhibition match. Today, our latest creation, the remarkable Maverick mark two, will clash with one of the best robo pilots of the last generation, Danny Fierce. Please, enjoy the show.”

There came applause and cheering. A few of the gentlemen in suits who wore their graying hair in conservative styles, whooped and hollered the loudest, even starting a small chant for Danny.

The announcer drone floated up between the two competitors. 

“Are the fighters ready?” She said.

Danny rolled his shoulders and cranked his controls, Dandy Piston responded by pumping a fist in the air. 

“We’re ready to dance!” His voice cracked out of the rig’s megaphone.

Abigail looked across the command center, her eyes falling on Juliette. For her part, the nervous intern put on her game face and nodded.

“Well then,” Doctor Bishop’s voice boomed from the announcer drone. “Let’s BRAWL!”

The Maverick sprang to attention and charged at Piston. Metal clashed and sparks flew as the two massive battle robots exchanged blows. The audience roared with each heavy hit. Piston was a little sluggish at the start, taking a few hits that rattled Danny in his seat.

“Yeesh, at least dance with me a little before taking me back to the hotel room.” Danny grunted into the mic.

“S-sorry. Your simulation was a lot harder. Should I hold back a little?” Juliette said.

“Oh, so you got sass, huh?” Danny said. He grit his teeth and jammed a pedal. A kick flew up and caught Maverick in the chest, sending it staggering backwards. “Ha, how’d ya like the pepper on that?”

The sleek rig straightened up. Juliette came back on the line, “Actually, that should just about finish it.”

“Finish? But we were just getting warmed up,” Danny protested.

“What she means,” Doctor Bishop said, cutting into the channel, “Is she will no longer need to fight you.”

She looked around the command center, her team looking up to confirm.

“Matilda, good. Chell, excellent. Marco. Marco? How we looking?” She said.

The engineer was furiously typing at his terminal, “Uh, fine. Yeah, we’re fine. It’s fine.” He gave a thumbs up.

She smiled. “Finally.”

She clicked the remote again, her announcer doppelganger appeared before the crowd.

“Been enjoying the fight, KFL fans?”

Cheers came from the crowd.

“Because now it is time to show what the Maverick can really do! Time to switch to Autonomous mode!” She clicked her remote again.

The Maverick snapped to attention, its eyes changing color. Once a humming red, they became a pulsing green. It stood pensive opposite Piston.

Danny squinted at his display, watching the idle rig across from them. Moments drifted by before he chuckled into his mic, “So uh, is it supposed to be doing something?”

There was no response from the headset. Until a voice shrieked.

“Why are its eyes green?” Abigail shouted.

Her team was frantically typing at their terminals. Juliette smashed the buttons on her controller to no avail. Matilda was flipping through a dense tome of code. Chell scrolled through dense code on her terminal. Marco fought to deny eye-contact and keep a low profile. It did not go unnoticed.

“Marco?” She said, walking quickly to him, “Fine? It will be fine?” She asked, pulling him back away from the terminal. The screen said, “Latest patch, 10.9.1”. She stood up straight and took a deep breath.

“Are you telling me, our prized prototype is standing like a dead lump of metal in front of all our investors because it had a system crash?” She said, visibly shaking.

Marco opened and closed his mouth to say something a few times before Abigail heard laughing coming through her headset.

“Aw now, you can’t blame the poor rig.” He said, pushing down on a pedal to have Piston approach the stoic Maverick. “Everyone goes through it in their first fight.” He laughed, “The Freeze.”

He got within a robotic arm’s length. In the cockpit, Danny flipped open a panel that had a big red switch. He let a wide grin pass his face as he flipped the switch. The rig started to hum louder, charging, priming, getting ready. He pulled back a lever, Piston readied a balled fist.

Abigail snarled into the mic, “What are you doing?”

“Let’s see if a nice, hard reset will do the trick?” Danny said.

“Don’t you dare!” She cried out. But it was too late.

In the audience, when they saw Piston wind up, they went wild. They knew what was coming. It had been the signature move of the pilot and his rig back in his day. The crowd cheered as the massive metal fist slammed into the sleek rig’s chest plate, lifting it off the ground. Then, the deafening crash as the hydraulic piston built into its arm sent a massive shock wave rippling through the Maverick and knocking it up into the air, end over end, in a shower of sparks and shredded metal.

The advanced piece of tech landed in a heap on the ground at Dandy Piston’s feet. The crowd was on their feet, cheering for their hero.

Abigail stood in the command center, Marco had pushed his chair far away and now she was left standing alone. Her jaw was clenched as thoughts raced through her mind. The remote that connected her to the investors that had paid for their project was heavy in her hand. Her fingers slowly loosened and let it fall from her grip. 

It was caught by another pair of hands. Juliette smiled and put the remote back in her hand.

“Just another setback.” She said. “Like the mark one. Just think of how good the mark three will be with all this data.”

Abigail shook her head, “There might not be a mark three, not with that pathetic display.”

“I dunno,” Danny said, hollering through the headset, “Seems like my fans got one hellava show.” He laughed, “You tell them I am already on board for the rematch against Maverick mark three, and they’ll fall all over themselves to put money behind it.”

Abigail looked out the window to the ring, where Dandy Piston was striking heroic poses to a no doubt elated crowd. She looked back at Juliette, who patted the remote in her hand and returned to her terminal.

Doctor Bishop took a deep breath. “Minor setback folks,” She said to her team, “Now let’s go win em back.” She clicked the remote.

The folks in nice suits were stepped back into their fancy cars, smiles all around. Danny waved to them as they went off. Juliette stood beside him.

“So, the soul in the metal?” She asked, “Is that how you won your fights?”

Danny looked at her and laughed, “No, I won most of them by being a little stubborn and a lot of lucky. I just wanted to bitch at your boss a bit.” He stroked his chin and looked up at Dandy Piston as it was being loaded into a transport. “But maybe--.” He shook his head, “Bah, I’m gettin old. Come get me when you need a rusty pilot to wrestle with your latest rig.”

He headed off to his ride. Juliette finished taking her notes and hurried back inside. As the new full-time assistant for Doctor Bishop, she would be very busy.

Day 3 - Bait

Prompt: Bait

Title: Take the bait

The media had gathered for the weigh-ins for each competitor. Massive rigs designed to accurately measure the monstrous competitors, constructed from modified shipping cranes. It was here that the press could get their first look at the opponents and read their energies. Most of the time, it was a noble meeting between two strong warriors. Like the two stepping off the scales now. Cassidy Quake slipped his ARMORFLEX T-Shirt on to take a promotional shot with his newest challenger. The two flexed and traded confident smiles. The cameras flashed, and they went their separate ways.

Simple, civil, easy.

But such is not always the case. And certainly not for the next competitor.

Raptor strut out to the weigh-in stage. The newcomer had struck the scene like a comet, showering the KFL scene with glittery drama and chaos. His massive jacket, covered in rhinestones that spelled out his name, trailing behind him, he sauntered up to his rig. He raised his fists in the air.

“Hello, losers.” He called out and ran a hand through the spines on his head, made up to look like a radioactive mohawk.

Opposite him, his opponent entered. The hot-headed Rawhide was a barbaric minotarus fighter, known for the merciless beatdown of his opponents. He saw the bedazzled Raptor and gave an agitated grunt.

They stripped down and stepped on their scales. A number tumbler hanging over each scale clacked out their individual weight. In order to brawl at the Monstrous weight class, they had to make it under a certain weight. When the numbers finally stopped, the officiator at the center of the stage squinted at Rawhide’s total. He shook his head. The bullheaded kaiju growled through gritted teeth, glaring at the official.

“Aww, what a shame.” Raptor said, shaking his head, “Maybe ya’ll oughta keep off them barbecues, pahrdner.” He put enough drawl into his words that his jaw threatened to slack off his head.

Rawhide glanced down at his gut, but in doing so, spotted the scaly tail pressing down on his scale. The offending limb whipped back to Raptor’s side, and he glanced around innocently.

The officiating security robos shifted from their stations to get within tackling range of the kaiju fighter that was visibly shaking from bottled rage. But the hot-headed fighter had been warned of the prodding of opponents and slowly counted in his head to calm his emotions. The bots stepped back.

Rawhide settled back on the scale and heaved a hot breath through his nose. The officiator jotted down the correct weight and nodded to the competitors.

Raptor watched Rawhide regain control of his emotions and frowned to himself. He’d need something to push his opponent over the edge. One last push. He didn’t want to have to dig this deep. But he’d be damned if he was going to try and take on this guy without an edge.

The two competitors faced off for the photo op. Within intimate distance of Rawhide, Raptor gave a cocky smirk and said, just quietly enough for his opponent to hear.

“Say, is your daughter still single?”

Everything happened in an instant. Rawhide roared in rage and drew his giant, meaty fist back. The security bots pounced on the fighter. The resounding sound of meat on steel clattered through the weigh-in stage. The security bots struggled to hold the rage beast in place. Rawhide’s shaking fist mere inches from Raptor’s smug grin. The reptilian fighter, for his part, had not shifted an inch at the attack. He turned and left the stage while the security bots struggled to keep the flailing, wailing, raging fighter from going totally off the rails. The media trolls would have a field day with this chaos, as they usually did with Raptor’s antics.

In the prep room set up beside the weigh-in stage, Raptor confidently stepped inside and gently closed the door behind him.

“How’d it go, tough guy?” His coach, a giant mothman, asked.

Raptor turned back to face him, then promptly let his knees give out as he collapsed to the floor. He put a hand to his chest, feeling his heart rapidly pounding against his chest. He fought to get his breathing under control. 

“Just as planned,” Raptor said at last. He struggled but managed to put a smirk on his face, “He took the bait.”

Day 2 - Mindless

Let’s see if we can make a trend of this.

Prompt: Mindless

Title: The good of mindless entertainment

The grandstands of the arena were filling up. Eager KFL fans, with their banners and signs, took their seats and prepared for the night of fights. The classic rock jamming over the speakers played background music for the excited chatter of the spectators.

Arriving to their designated seats, Victoria tossed her bag full of cheering section gear on the fold-up bench seat, her date, Mitch, dropped himself into the seat adjacent. She stripped off her jacket to reveal her limited edition “Quake in Fear ‘09” Cassidy Quake T-shirt. She did a quick pose to show off the fruits of her fanaticism. For his part, Mitch managed a gentle applause.

“Oh come on, you can do better than that.” She said, grabbing some of her banners and thunder clappers. She handed the merch to him, “Tonight’s match-up is a toughie and Quake’s gonna need us in his corner to cheer for him.”

He took the themed items and sighed, “I don’t think he’ll be able to hear us.” 

“You say that,” She countered, “But this one time.” She said, opening her hands in front of her, the way one does when they are about to wind up into an enthusiastic story. He leaned his head into his hands and watched her with a weak smile.

“Quake was on the ropes, right?” She said, “Baron Thuggly was about to barrel into him.” She mimed winding up a big punch. “But then! I called out,” She cupped her hands around her mouth, “‘You Can Do It!’” She said in a raspy scream-whisper voice. 

Mitch nodded along. “And did he do it?” 

“Not only did he whip around and catch Baron Thuggly right in his big ugly jaw,” She swatted at the air, spinning her around to put her back to him. “But then, Quake turns around and,” She turned slowly and looked at him. She smirked and gave him a slight nod.

He laughed, “Wow, all that for you huh?”

She spun back around to face him, “You better believe it!” She grabbed the edge of her shirt, “I bought this shirt after that match, as a memento to how awesome that moment was.”

He sat back in his chair. “I dunno, all this stuff just seems like mindless violence. I mean, isn’t it all fake?” He said, looking up to her.

She glared at him. “First of all, I’d like to see you back flip off a skyscraper and body slam through a monster truck and tell me its fake.” She put an arm on his shoulder, “And second, you could stand a little bit of mindless fun.”

He patted her hand and let out a slow breath, “Yeah, maybe.”

She smiled, and the lights cut out. 

The music went from banal classic rock to driving hip-hop hype music. 

The ring lit up with spotlights and the announcer stepped out to the center of the massive ring. He raised his microphone and the crowd went wild.

“Ladies and Gentlemen and everything in between.” He said, his voice echoing through the arena “Tonight’s fight will be one for the record books. Coming in for the Red Corner,” He gestured to the red colored entrance. A massive stone-statue looking creature lumbered onto the runway. “The mountainous stone soldier, clocking 3 stories tall and weighing a mind-bending 100 tonnes! Your challenger tonight, GARGOYLE!” 

The statue charged down the runway, each heavy step causing the whole arena to shake. He hoisted himself through the sturdy gate and stepped into the ring. He raised his massive fists in the air and roared. Some people in the audience cheered. Victoria applauded politely. Mitch followed suit.

“And now,” The announcer said, the music dropping out again, “Please welcome. Your champion in the blue corner!” The blue entrance lit up and showed a silhouette. The coils of the figure’s long whiskers were unmistakable. The music started low as the audience started to whoop and holler. Victoria was already on her feet, waving her arms and cheering. 

“The Kaiju that shifts the very world. The beast who bested the Gorgon and toppled the 100-Man Mountain challenge. Everyone, please welcome, CASSIDY QUAKE!”

The spotlights went wild, revealing Cassidy, standing valiently at the entrance. Empowering and brassy music kicked on. The arena went absolutely wild. Victoria was waving her banner and screaming. Mitch waved the banner he had been assigned and whistled through his teeth to join the crowd. The energy was tangible as Cassidy confidently hustled to the ring, his catfish whiskers trailing behind him. He stepped to the edge of the ring and hung off the gate before swinging himself inside. When he landed, the impact made the arena shudder. Even the challenger had to steady himself. 

The stage was set.

“Now, fighters.” The announcer said, “I want to see your warrior’s spirit tonight. Don’t hold anything back!”

The two competitors tapped fists to signal their agreement and went to their sides of the cage to prepare.

A large timer above the ring ticked down the final minute before the fight would kick off. Victoria waved her banner. Mitch couldn’t help lean forward, his heart racing. The anticipation in the air was making the hair on his neck stand up. A small grin slipped on his face.

When the bell rang, there was no time to waste. The two competitors came out swinging. Even in the first round, resounding strikes made the cage shake and shudder. As Quake went to work, Victoria would take breaks from her cheering to point out common tactics and strategies, and the signature moves of each fighter. He nodded along and did his best to keep up, she was rattling off information between cries and cheers.

“Wait, so, why can’t he use the Quake Buster there?” He said.

“Cause he was caught in the guard. He had to --YEAH! RIGHT TO THE HEAD!-- Sorry, he had to clear the leg first.” She said, her eyes staying on the battle.

“Clear the leg?” He said.

“Yeah, like, watch, see that? That’s clearing the leg, oh here it comes! Watch!”

Cassidy wrapped his arms around Gargoyle, lifted the massive kaiju into the air, and brought him down with a thunderous impact. The ring rattled dangerously, fighting to constrain the incredible force. The shockwave sent a wave of air pressure that knocked nearly everyone off their feet. 

“Whoa,” Mitch said, his heart fighting to catch up with his adrenaline. “That was awesome.”

“I know right!?” Victoria said, she grabbed the thunder sticks and banged them together. “GET HIM QUAKE!”

Mitch got to his feet, knees wobbly, and waved the banner. “Get him!”

Round 10, the challenger had managed to get a lucky sweep that brought him into a tough grapple. Less than a minute on the clock, but if Gargoyle could sink the choke, it could be over for Cassidy. The champion was pressed against the cage, struggling for a hold.

Victoria was screaming, her voice going horse. Mitch waved his banner frantically. He could see the energy draining away from the champion. With the banner clenched in his sweaty grip, he worked up all the energy he could and screamed, “YOU CAN DO IT!”

Cassidy’s eyes snapped open and he grabbed through the gaps in the fence and lifted himself up, pulling gargoyle off the mat. The pull of gravity and tired limbs loosened the challenger’s grip and he slid just enough for Cassidy to slip his way out of the hold and get his arms around Gargoyle again. With an ear-splitting shout, Cassidy jumped into the air, lifting the massive kaiju with him and bringing them both down for another clutch Quake Buster. The arena shook, the cage rattled, the crowd cheered. Cassidy rose to his feet, Gargoyle did not. The officiating robo-ref rushed to the downed fighter’s side, scanning his battered body. He straightened up and waved his arms in the air, signalling the end of the fight.

Had you been pressing your face against any of the windows for the arena, you may have felt, in that moment, the windows buckle outwards. Because the combined roar of every voice in the arena was like a physical blast. Within the cacophany, the robo-ref lifted the hand of Cassidy and the announcer cried through the din.

“Your winner and defending champion, CASSIDY QUAKE!”

In the stands, Victoria and Mitch had embraced each other and were leaping about. He looked back at the ring and to the hero who pulled through in the end. Cassidy, looked over his shoulder and into the stands and gave a single nod and smile.

Mitch clutched his chest. “I think,” He said sheepishly, “Do you think he heard me?”

She patted him on the shoulder, “You better believe it.” Her voice was ragged, but she spoke with a smile. “Come on, let’s go get you a shirt.”

Day 1 - Ring

I can’t draw for Inktober, and it is unlikely I will be able to do a REAL NaNoWriMo, but I still want to try challenging myself. SO! I will take the Inktober prompts and write little blurps to do some on-the-fly world building for a random idea I had a while back. A Giant-Monster themed WWE/UFC fighting league. Enter the KFL, Kaiju Fighting League. Let’s see how this goes. Wish me luck.

----

Prompt: Ring

Title: In The Ring

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between!” The announcer cried. He stood in the center of the massive battle pit. The impressive, gilded microphone he clutched glittered in the spotlights aimed at him. “Welcome to the opening night for the Kaiju Fighting League’s 30th anniversary!”

The crowd roared. People, beasts, monsters and things without names all stomped in the grandstands to chants and cheers. Their voices rattled the cage surrounding the pit. The announcer let them roar for a bit before continuing.

“Years ago, when humanity fought the calamity, it was through teamwork with strangers that led us to victory! And when the calamity was destroyed, we did what we do best.” He put his hand to his ear to wait for the audience.

They rewarded him with a unanimous cheer, “WE FIGHT!” Followed by more roaring applause.

The announcer pumped his fist in the air, “Hell yeah! That’s why our founder, Thrash Flexman, the Ragin’ Stallion himself, founded the KFL and brought the strongest warriors together to enjoy that most traditional of past times. The Brawl!”

At his call, the monitors high above him blared to life. Dancing across the screens were images of the highlights from the last year. The names of champions rolled by alongside their best fights. King Carnage, the colossal apeman with a crown crafted from fighter planes, knocking his opponent so hard it sends him flying through the protective ring. Kill-ogram, the titanic metal beast, charging against the blows of his opponent to send a strike that causes the poor warrior to crumple into a heap. Cassidy Quake, a monstrous catfishman with whip-like whiskers, grabs his opponent and cheers to the crowd before leaping into a flying suplex. 

More heroes flash on the screen and the crowd whoops to each cherished memory. The screen then darkens and shows several silhouettes.

“But no one can reign champion forever! It’s time for new blood to step up to the challenge!” The announcer calls out. “You hear that?”

The gates leading to one side of the arena open up and the newcomers wander out. They march, beasts, dragons, monsters all, out to one side of the ring. Out front, a rather lithe monster leaps onto the cage and cries out, “Bring out my meal!”

The announcer barely manages to keep his feet as the 20 ft tall raptor claws against the cage, rattling the whole battle pit. The crowd is eating it up and start to chant for the kings.

The announcer steadies himself. “Ha, I can tell you’re hungry for the Crown. But it won’t be that easy.”

The lights go out and the music clicks on to play a rocking theme. Spotlights flash to the opposite gate which rattles open. With prestige, pride, and confidence, the Kings enter. Top of their brackets, they march to the cage. Fans wave banners, swing merch, and throw bananas. They stay focused on their new opponents, except for King Carnage, who attempts to catch the bananas. 

Cassidy Quake makes it to the cage first, he signals to the announcer, who runs over with the mic. Cassidy takes the mic gently between his fingers and swishes his wild whiskers before speaking.

“I don’t care who you are, or where you came from.” He points to the raptor still clinging to the cage and wearing a manic grin, “If you want this crown, we meet in the ring as warriors!” He dropped the mic, the announcer did his best to catch it. His fellow Kings respond with a resounding battle cry that makes the whole arena shudder. The crowd goes absolutely wild. Bananas are flying everywhere.

The announcer gets back to the center of the pit.

“Alright KFL Fanantics! That wraps up the pomp and circumstance. Now comes the fun part! Are. You. Ready?”

The crowd explodes in applause and cheers.

“Then let’s get started, KFL 30, LET’S ROCK!”

Music flares to life as newcomers and Kings alike head back through their gates and the games prepare to get started.

fell asleep while writing and

did anybody else have a moment as a kid/teen where you suddenly realized that you were more than likely never going to have one of those big adventures that you read abt in YA novels. and u were going to just have a normal life with normal problems, and got real sad. and even tho u now see value in a regular life, part of you still wants magic powers and a rag tag group of ride-or-die friends who are out to save the world

not to get too deep on main but did anyone else have such deeply rooted issues with their self worth for so long that they thought as a kid/teen that their only redeeming feature was being “low maintenance” and now as an adult you give yourself guilt pangs asking for any more than the barest minimum in virtually any relationship because asking for things might negate your only good quality which is just “doesn’t ask for things”

By popular demand, three Insecta Geometrica series 1 pins are making a comeback! The praying mantis, bumblebee, and cicada were all so well-loved, folks just kept asking me to restock - so we’re doing it! The mantis and bumblebee designs are the same as the originals, while the cicada has received a few very minor tweaks. All three can be preordered now in the shop! They’re expected in late September to early October and will ship as soon as they arrive.

🐝 Praying Mantis | Bumblebee | Cicada 🦗

These and more original pins, stickers, charms, bandanas, and artwork only at MaryCapaldi.com/shop! Spread the word!! 🐛

Reblog if you…

Liked something you wrote today.

Enjoyed writing whatever you wrote today.

Are eager to write the thing you’re supposed to write today.

Are proud to be a writer.

I was talking to someone today about writing, and I was surprised by how amazed they were by writers’ ability to create a story. They couldn’t understand how JKR was able to create the world of Harry Potter–how she came up a world so far removed from our reality. 

It made me realize something; not everyone can come up with worlds on a whimsy. Not everyone can create characters that they grow so fond of that they’re like real people in their eyes. Not everyone has gone through the experience of a character derailing their story and swearing it wasn’t them typing those words in that document. Not everyone can just envision a story and then just write it. 

I’ve been making stories since I was a small child–it’s something so ingrained in me that to imagine not being able to write (no matter how much I agonize over writing woes) is such a foreign concept to me. Writers, cherish your ability to create stories. Because not everyone can create stories. Because there isn’t anyone in the world who can write the stories you are writing. Because you don’t know when or where there might be a person in the world who needs to hear your story.

The Wreckers - Cashing In

Another round of thugly antics. Again, check out Puckarooni for her Pokemon Superhero AU. Cool jams, friendos.

Alolan Joe - Alolan Ratata Leader and self proclaimed mousestache afficianado

Ben - Spearow Brawn of the group of Bachelor of Thuganomics

Zach - Zigzagoon Dunno what he’s doing, but he’s doing it well

Sherman - Sentret Newbie, but he makes up for it with heart

~~~~~

Zach handed the sturdy box to Ben, who nodded and set it in the center of the table in the backroom of the Thrifty. He crammed the edge of the crowbar under the lip of the metal lid.

“Alright, you got it, Sherbet?” Ben said to Sherman, who took hold of the bottom of the box.

“Sherbet?” Sherman said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Said Ben, inclining his head down. “You. Got. It?” He held a stern face.

“Uh,” Sherman adjusted his grip and help tight. “Yeah, I got it, Be–uh. Bu…,” He looked around the thrifty and his eyes settled on a row of candies. “Bu–ttercup?” He looked back to Ben.

Zach snorted from the couch he had plopped down on. Ben shook his head, “You got a lot to learn, rookie.” He squared his shoulders, “Just, hold onto the damn thing.”

“Yes sir,” Said Sherman, his punctured ego dedicating itself to his task.

Ben worked at the crowbar, prying a little more of the lid back and setting the crowbar deeper. Once he was satisfied, he gave the crowbar a swift jerk that popped the edge of the lid off. The shrapnel flew across the room. Joe stepped into the doorway with impeccable timing.

“Gentlemen, I- Gah!” Joe squeaked as he narrowly missed the chunk of metal box that zipped past him.

“Oh, I see now. So it has come to this,” Joe straightened up and put up his fists. “Mutiny. I knew this day would come. But you’ll have to best me in combat, fiends. Come on then, let’s do this!” Joe began to hop around, waving his fists in front of him.

Sherman popped up, “Whoa wait! It was an accident, Boss. We were just trying to–”

“Finally,” Ben said, shouldering his crowbar, “Been waiting for a chance to knock that cheesy smirk off your face.” 

Ben charged at Joe, swinging the crowbar down towards Joe’s head. In a flash, Joe brought up his hands to catch the blow, the two locked eyes and grit their teeth.

“Oh, Heck Yeah!” Sherman said, eyes sparkling. He scurried over to the couch and hopped into the spot next to Zach. “This is gonna be epic. Don’t you think?”

Zach shrugged, “Maybe.”

Joe and Ben tussled for a bit. They wrestled and rolled and tumbled, finishing with Joe having taken the crowbar from Ben.

Joe pointed the crowbar at Ben, who crouched on the ground catching his breath.

“Will you yield?” Joe said.

“Yeah yeah,” Ben said, bruised ego kinda killing the mood. “I will honor the code of the thug and serve your blah blah blah.”

“Perfect,” Joe said and tossed the crowbar back to him. “Whew, almost got me that time.”

Ben caught the crowbar and stood up, “Oh blow me sideways, bristles. You hold back every time.” He scoffed out his nose and went back to the table. “Hey, Sherbet, we opening this thing or what?”

Sherman, stars in his eyes got up from the couch, “You guys are so cool. Like, when you were like, ‘Whapam! Take that’ but then Joe just did that thing where he, you know, just ‘Whoosh, bam!’ and you went flying and…” He flailed his arms. Zach leaned away to allow Sherman room to embellish.

“That’s enough, Sherman.” Joe said, “What are you opening anyway?”

“Dunno, Zach found it in the junkyard and couldn’t open it.” Sherman said “He even did his–” He wiggled his fingers and flip flopped his wrists. “Stuff.”

Zach also wiggled his fingers and then shrugged.

Joe stroked his ‘stache, “A rather tricky treasure trove, it would–” He paused, “t-uh, tantamount to tremendous tantalizing trophies for this team.” He smiled at his cleverness.

Ben scoffed, “You are such a dork.” He glared at Sherman. “Come on, hold this sucker down before I use this crowbar to vent all that hot air in your head.”

Sherman hustled over and gripped the box again. Ben got the edge into the lid again and gave it a adrenaline-fueled push. The lid peeled back like a tuna can and revealed the contents within. Ben tossed the crowbar aside as they all gathered to peek inside the box.

“Oh,” Said Zach with a neutral voice.

“Whoa,” Said Sherman with a hint of wonder.

“Hmm,” Murmured Joe, contemplating.

“Oh, goodie. More junk.” Ben said, his shoulders slumping down.

“What? This isn’t junk,” Sherman reached inside and pulled out a handful of the contents. Play cards. A bunch of them, haphazardly scattered inside the box. They had colorful pictures of monsters on one side and a big logo plastered on the other. “Don’t you remember Pouch Gremlins? For the Game Lad?”

Joe snapped his fingers, “Ha, I knew they looked familiar.” He took a few of the cards out of the box. “I used to play a shared copy of Powgrem with my brothers and sisters way back when.” He started flipping through the cards. Zach also began to dig through the contents of the box.

“Feh,” Ben said looking over the couple that Sherman had fished out, “That baby game about little kids making friends with super powered monsters and battling them. All the designs looked so lame.” His sharp eyes landed on a shiny card in Sherman’s hand, he snatched it and nodded. “Except this guy. He was awesome.”

Joe and Sherman looked at the card. Sherman smiled, “Oh yeah, Psycat. The legendary survivor of psychic experiments. The lore said that he was a loner Powgrem who killed off his old master. Pretty dark stuff.”

“Yeah, super edgy and took no shit. I liked him.” Ben said.

“My favorite was the one you could start out with, Grassasaurus Rex!” Sherman said, pulling out the relevant card, “His solar cannon attack was unbeatable!” He looked to Joe, “Oh, who was your favorite, Joe?”

Joe dug into the box and nodded, pulling out another shiny card, “This one.” He held it up, “The trickmaster, Ghostgar.” He laughed, “When I would play against my siblings, they would actually ban me from using him cause he was too good.”

“How about you, Zach?” Sherman asked, “Did you have a favorite?”

Zach was organizing the cards by color and rarity. Without looking up from his work, he muttered, “Yup.”

Joe chuckled. Sherman pressed on, “Such as…?”

Zach paused, looked over the stacks of cards before grabbing out a fairly common looking card and holding it up. “This guy.”

“Oh,” Sherman said, a little disappointed, “I guess Joltling is pretty popular.” He looked back to Joe, “I mean, it was the mascot of the series.”

Joe nodded and regarded the box again. “Hmm…what do you suppose these were doing in such a secure box?”

Ben scoffed, “Loser probably wanted to hide his shame when he moved on to something better.” He was gathering up all the copies of Psycat and silently judging the edginess of each one.

Sherman looked at the box, “Maybe they were special and he wanted to keep them safe?”

Zach finished sorting and stacking and said, “Resale.”

Joe, Ben and Sherman all looked up, struck by the idea.

Joe caught it first. “How much do you think these cards are worth?”

Ben smirked, “I hear things get more valuable over time, if you collect enough.”

“And look at all of these shinies.” Said Sherman, “They’ve gotta be worth a fortune.”

“Zach, gather up those little treasures,” Joe said, stroking his mouse-stache, “We’re headed to town!”

Ben and Sherman cheered, Zach packed the cards away.

“Gentlemen,” Joe said, “Let’s go make some money.”

…

“50 bucks?” Ben said incredulously. “Are you serious?”

He leaned over the counter of the hobby shop, making the cashier back away slightly. From behind the counter, he gave his big, friendly, Snorlax smile, “Yup, 100 even. Pretty—impressive collection, though.” He said through a yawn. “So, will that be cash or store credit?”

Joe managed to pry Ben away from the counter. “Uh, excuse my friend here. I am pretty certain there were quite a number of rare cards in there. Surely they would fetch a handsome price?”

The cashier shrugged, “Maybe a bit ago, but not anymore.” He turned in his swivel chair and grabbed another box of cards. “Everyone’s moved on to Data Goblins.” He showed them the box. Though the designs were slightly different, it seemed like the exact same game. “People just aren’t buying Powgrem anymore.” He set the box back, “So, 50.” He smiled again.

Ben wrestled out of Joe’s grip and got uncomfortably close to the cashier. “Listen, tubby, how about you grease these pockets before I grease up your face?”

The cashier held his smile and opened one of his eyes just enough to glare at Ben. The sight sent a chill down the young thug’s spine. “Fifty. Dollars. Even.”

…

Ben and Joe shuffled out of the hobby shop.

“Hey guys,” Sherman said, hustling up to them. “How’d it go?”

Joe looked at Ben, who scoffed, “Waste of time.” He looked away and folded his arms.

Zach and Sherman looked at Joe. Joe pulled the 50 dollars out of his pocket.

“Oh,” Said Sherman. Zach gave a resigned shake of the head.

“Well, you win some, you lose some.” Joe said. “But I still think 50 dollars for free is a win.” He smiled.

Sherman nodded, “Still, it would have been nice to at least keep–”

Zach zipped around in front of him and held up the Grassasaurus Rex card. “Here.”

Sherman lit up and took the card, “No way, you held onto my favorite. You’re the best.”

Zach shrugged and walked around to the other two members and held up their favorite cards.

“You sly devil,” Joe said, taking the card and slipping it into his pocket. “Should have known.”

Ben snatched his card, “What the heck? Isn’t this thing super rare? We might have gotten more cash for this.” He glared at Zach, who returned with an indifferent quirk of the eyebrow.

Joe nudged him, “You’re welcome to head back inside to trade it in.”

Ben looked back at the shop, then down to his Psycat. “Yeah, never mind. Psycat is too cool for that.” He also tucked the card into his pocket.

Zach also tucked a card into his pocket. The picture looked like a Joltling, but was a little off. It appeared as though it was merely wearing a Joltling costume…

The Wreckers - In the Junkyard

Another round of thugly antics. Again, check out Puckarooni for her Pokemon Superhero AU. Cool jams, friendos.

Alolan Joe - Alolan Ratata Leader and self proclaimed mousestache afficianado

Ben - Spearow Brawn of the group of Bachelor of Thuganomics

Zach - Zigzagoon Dunno what he’s doing, but he’s doing it well

Sherman - Sentret Newbie, but he makes up for it with heart

~~~

“Alright, Gents.” Joe said, strapping on his goggles

“Who wants to go first?”

Ben and Sherman’s hands both shot up, Zach was taking his time strapping on his hard hat.

Joe stroked his luxurious lip fluff, “Hmm, let’s see what the new recruit has to offer. Sherman, you’re up.”

Sherman pumped his fist and smiled at Ben. Ben gave him a curt snort before tossing the sledgehammer at him. Sherman fumbled the catch but managed to miss having it land on his toes. He gathered up the hammer and scurried to the center of the junkyard where they had set up their latest target. A sleek, heavy duty, Ironclad™ mini-vault safe.

“Okay,” Sherman said, squaring his feet and tugging at his leather gloves. “Watch this.”

He brought the sledgehammer way back behind him, twisting almost all the way around. He then let out a warrior cry, something of a mix between a painful yelp and yodelling, and brought the sledgehammer against the side of the safe. The metal-on-metal clang rang out through the junkyard. The others brought their hands up over their ears. The safe keeled onto two of its legs before settling back to stability. The ringing died out and Sherman turned around.

His whole body was shaking from the heavy impact. “How was that?”

Zach gave a golf clap, Joe chuckled under his breath. Ben shook his head, “Alright alright, amateur hour is over. We don’t have all night to bust this thing open.”

He sauntered over to Sherman and snagged the sledge out of his trembling hands. Sherman smiled up at him, expectantly. Ben scowled down the bridge of his nose at him. “Uh…Not bad, I guess.” He sniffed and noticed the small dent at the side of the safe, “Now, stand back. Let me show you how it’s done.” He smirked.

Sherman nodded and scuttled back a few steps. Ben took the sledgehammer in his hands and tested its weight, a few test swings swiping at the air. Like a baseball star, he rolled his shoulders, spat on his hands, shook his arms out.

“While we’re young, tough guy.” Joe called out.

“Bite Me, Nerd!” Ben hollered back.

Joe folded his arms and laughed. He turned to Zach, “Think he can actually bust that thing open?”

Zach had finished suiting up with a dust mask and looked like a post-apocalyptic refugee. Zach looked at Ben’s prep ritual and shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I heard that.” Ben said, shouldering the hammer, “Okay, here we go.” He whipped the hammer high over his head and roared his own battle cry. For a whole minute, Ben whaled against the safe. He slammed the sides, top and legs, driving the safe into the dirt. Over and over the hammer fell to the brittle tune of clanging metal. When he finished, the sledge hammer landed beside him with a heavy thud. Ben fought to catch his breath.

“Damn, what’s this thing made of?”

“WHAT!?” Shouted Sherman, standing a few feet away.

“I SAID! -Nevermind.” Ben dragged the hammer back to where Joe was standing. Zach had vanished to places unknown. Sherman hustled behind him.

“Alright, Joe.” Ben said, holding out the hammer to him. “Show us what you got.”

Joe lifted his eyebrows, “What’s this? You’ve given up?”

Sherman, ears slowly returning to their rightful tone frequency, chimed in, “Hey hey, I can go again.”

Ben ignored him, “This was your idea, fearless leader. Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.”

Joe looked at the hammer, then back at Joe. “Alright, Ben.” He took the tool out of Ben’s hands, “But when I crack this thing open, I expect you to start treating me with a little more respect.”

Ben scoffed as Joe whisped past him. Sherman scooted up beside Ben, who stepped a little bit away. Sherman followed. Ben grumbled.

Joe came to the center of the junkyard. The atmosphere of the yard became heavy. He dragged the metal sledge along the ground and it rattled against the various pieces of scrap along the way. The florescent lights hummed above and there was a quiet breeze that picked up a few scattered bits of paper, causing them to dance in the air.

Joe squared off with the safe. He took a deep breath and pulled the heavy sledge hammer into the air. He ratcheted his torso, twisting back and leveling the hammer. The air stood still in anticipation. Ben and Sherman held their breath, along with Zach, whom had returned at some point. Then, with a mighty howl, Joe spun his body and connected with the pointed edge of the safe. The metal clang was joined with a loud crack and snap. The head of the sledgehammer sailed through the air and landed a few feet away from Joe with a dull thud. The safe had been scuffed to the side a few inches, but aside from that was unchanged.

Ben clucked and doubled over, laughing heartily. Sherman shouted from beside him, “That was Awesome!”

Joe turned and casually walked over to the busted head of the hammer. He regarded it before gathering the lump of metal and returning to the rest of the crew.

“Well gents, looks like- Ben you can stop now- looks like we’ll need another plan.”

“What’s in the safe, anyway?” Sherman asked.

“Documents, of some nature.” Said Joe. “They must be pretty dangerous if they want us to Wreck them.”

“What if,” Sherman said, looking excitedly between Joe and Ben, Zach had shuffled off to sniff around the safe. “What if we just hold the stuff ransom? Maybe we can blackmail the guy?”

Joe stroked his stache. Ben gathered himself, “No, cause then we wouldn’t be the Wreckers anymore.” He folded his arms in a tough guy flex, “We’d be the Blackmailers. Or whatever.”

Joe nodded, “He’s right, and I’m already getting T-shirts made.”

“We’re Getting T-Shirts?” Sherman exclaimed.

“You bet, as soon as we crack this safe. Now then.” Joe looked at the busted sledgehammer, “We’ll need a new plan to get those–”

“Done,” Zach said, holding up a manila folder stuffed with documents, the word “classified” was barely visible on a sheet jutting from the mass.

They all looked at the folder, then to the safe, the door was open with no further apparent damage. Joe, with an exceedingly puzzled look on his face, took the folder.

Sherman gawked, “How did you do that?”

Zach held out his hands and gestured with is fingers, wiggling them and twisting his wrist. “Just…ya know.” He did some more wangjangling and fidgeting, “That.” He nodded with a satisfied look on his face.

Sherman watched the display intently, mimicking the frivolous actions as best he could. When Zach was done, he looked at his hands. “That’s wild,” He said, a little disheartened that it made little sense to him.

Ben scoffed, “Well, whatever. I probably loosened it up for him.” He looked over to Joe, “Alright, so now..?” He trailed off expectantly.

Joe took the hint and walked over to an oil drum, “Now, we do what we do best.” He tossed the folder into the bin.

“We Wreck Stuff!” Sherman called out and ran back to the edge of the clearing, grabbing a half tank of gasoline they had stashed there. He hustled it over to Ben and handed off the payload. Sherman had not yet achieved “Burn it” status yet, but he was eager to help.

They gathered around the drum as Ben poured in a responsible amount of fuel into the drum, and then added an irresponsible amount with a sinister grin.

Joe held a hand out to Zach, who whipped a match from his pocket and placed it into Joe’s palm. “Alright Ben, that’s enough.”

Ben rejoined them and set down the tank of gasoline. The three of them watched Joe expectantly.

“This is another job,” Joe lit the match with a strike against his teeth, “Well done.”

He tossed the match into the oil drum and it immediately burst into a column of flame. The four of them stepped back at the spectacle.

“This is so damn cool.” Said Sherman. “Don’t you think this is cool?” He said, turning to Zach.

“Maybe.” Said Zach, who was already busy trying to pry open the lid of what looked like a jewel box.

Ben glanced at Joe, “‘Well done’? Are you freakin serious?”

“What can I say, I have a–,” Joe turned to Ben, so the firelight glimmered off his goggles, “Flare for dramatics.”

Ben groaned.

The Wreckers - New Hideout

Chapter 2 of my Pokemon Thuglife AU. Again, inspiration comes from my good friend Puck’s Pokemon Superhero AU, Dustpan. Check her Twitter Puckarooni.

Enjoy the exploits of my young punks.

Alolan Joe - Alolan Ratata Ben - Spearow Zach - Zigzagoon Sherman - Sentret

~~~~

The Wreckers stood in the parking lot of the old thrift shop. The sun was setting on the cape and cast an orange glow over the scene.

“Ben,” Said Joe, contemplating while stroking his ‘stache, “When I said we needed an official hangout for our official crew, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Ben quirked his head to the side, “It’s the only abandoned place left in town.” He folded his arms and turned to Joe, “Unless you want to start a turf war with The Darkness.”

Sherman coughed, “The Darkness? B-But they are the biggest and baddest team in town.”

“We’d be crushed.” Zack said, picking up a discarded “thrift shop rewards” card off the ground.

Joe cleared his throat. “Right, no need for that.” He looked back to the thrift shop. The sunset reflected off the cracked windows and illuminated the several layers the filth and graffiti that had piled on since it was abandoned years ago.

“It’s…perfect.” Joe said, gagging on the words as they came out. “Let’s go in a check out the official crash pad for the Wreckers.”

They all nodded and followed Joe into the thrift shop. The setting sun continued to creep its way down the horizon.

…

Ben ripped off the boards baring the entrance and they made their way inside. The shelving was in disrepair and the paint on the walls was peeling. The floorboards showed their lack of maintenance as well. The air was heavy and each footstep echoed and somehow enhanced the silence.

The team split up to investigate the shop.

Joe wandered the aisles, murmuring about future design plans. “ah yes, the pool table will go here. And this is where we can have the television. I wonder where we could fit the couch…”

Ben had already set about pushing some of the shelving around to make space for themselves.

Zack and Sherman wandered the perimeter together.

“Hey, Zack.” Sherman said, looking over the stuff on the shelves, “Do you know why this place was abandoned?”

Zack looked over a handful of penny candies he had found.

“It’s haunted.” He said.

Sherman looked at him in a moment that seemed to last too long.

Zack looked up at him, his eyes shining from within his hoodie.

“Maybe.” He concluded. Sherman let out a breath he realized he had been holding. He turned and noticed that Ben and Joe had overheard the comment and had stopped their activities. Everyone froze for a moment.

“Welp,” Joe said at last, “I think that works for our first survey.” He clapped his hands, “We’ll come back again tomorrow.”

Ben scoffed, “Feh, what’s the matter? You scared?” He crossed his arms and smirked.

Joe and Sherman spoke over each other, each with their own flair for denial.

“Yes,” Zack said sheepishly.

Joe looked back at the sunset, “Besides, it is getting rather-” Suddenly, the four of them were plunged into pitch black. “-dark.”

From the center of the shop a hazy purple glow bubbled up from the ground. The four members clamored for the exit in the dim, eerie light. Ben grabbed at the door but it wouldn’t budge. They fought for an attempt to try the door as the light grew stronger. A large ball of purple ethereal vapor hovered in the center of the shop before a pair of bright red eyes flashed and locked on the small group.

“TRESPASSERS!” Came a bellowing voice. The mass started to float towards them.

“Dammit, Ben! You had to pick a haunted place.” Joe cried.

“This is not my fault, you bristle-lipped jerk.” Ben said. Joe snapped to Ben with eyes full of fire in complete disregard to the looming supernatural danger.

“Guys, come on,” Sherman said with a quivering voice, “Isn’t there something we can do?”

“Give it something?” Zack said. He reached into his pockets and pulled out his current stash.

Sherman picked out the thrift shop rewards card, “What is this?”

Joe glanced over and saw the card, “That!” He said, snatching the card, “Is our ticket out of this.”

“TRESPASSERS!” It roared again. The mass had finished its slow, menacing migration and was now looming over the four of them. “YOU WILL BE–“

“Actually,” Joe said, holding up the card, “We’re customers.” He spoke with absolute confidence, almost casually.

“Customers?” The mass said, in a nervous and soft tone.

Suddenly, the lights in the shop came to life. Joe and his crew covered their eyes until they adjusted. Standing before them was a young woman with wild, flowing purple hair and a tall pointed hat. She wore an apron that had a name tag on it.

She clapped her hands in front of herself, “I’m terribly sorry, valued customer, feel free to look around.” Her voice was mellow and comforting. The four of them glanced at one another and then to the shop. Illuminated, it had taken on a new life, looking much less of a total wreck than before. The woman nodded and then levitated off the ground to go tend to the aisles.

The crew stood in shock. Ben woke up first and slapped Joe in the gut.

“Ouph, ahem yes.” He straightened up, “Well, I am afraid we can’t stay tonight. Must be moving on.” He offered.

The lady turned to them with a dour look on her face, “O-oh.” Her shoulders slumped forward, the lights began to dim.

“A-actually,” Sherman said, “I was wondering if you had uh–” He glanced at Zack who pulled out one of the penny candies and shrugged. “Uh, penny candies?”

She lit up again, the lights of the shop coming back to full illumination, “Why yes we do. Right this way, valued customer.” She glided through the air and showcased a small section with different colorful wrappers on display. “We have a rather impressive selection, I think.”

Sherman and Zack joined her and began nervously looking over the candies. The atmosphere relaxed slightly, Ben looked over the shop and sighed.

“I guess this is a no-go, huh?” Ben said.

Joe twizzled his mouse-stache, “I wouldn’t say that.” Joe walked up to the floating ghost woman. “Say, my dear. You wouldn’t happen to have a place where we might be able to rest a spell?” he motioned to the others, “We have been working hard all day and could really use a place to take a load off.”

She regarded him for a moment, her face scrunched in and she glanced around the shop. “Hmm, well,” She said, biting her lip, “I am not really supposed to, but,” She looked back at him, “But you are valued customers so I think it will be fine.”

She flitted over to a door along the back wall that said “employees only”. She opened it up and it revealed a small lounge with a TV, a couch, some tables and chairs and a vending machine. “Feel free to relax as long as you like.” She said. “After all, it has been a long time since we had customers.” She looked away, her eyes unfocused, “A long…time.”

“Yes thank you,” Ben said, scooting past them and hurling himself on the couch. He landed with a thud and kicked his feet up on the shoulder rest. “Aha! That’s more like it.”

Joe joined him in the room, seated at one of the tables. “Yes, yes this will do wonderfully. Thank you very much Miss…uh,” He squinted at her apron, “Drevie?”

The woman nodded, “You can call me ‘Dee’.” She said.

Joe smiled back at her, “Excellent, Miss Dee. My name is Joe, that’s Ben.” He motioned to the couch. Ben lazily lifted his hand in greeting. “And the two outside are Zack and Sherman.”

“A pleasure to meet you all. Oh, I had better get back to the floor. Take care.” She said and fluttered off.

Joe leaned back in his chair and stroked his mouse-stache. “yes, this will work.”

…

Sherman and Zack joined them in the lounge when they finished purchasing their candy. The ordeal had left them all rather spent, before they knew it, they had passed out in the employee lounge. Joe joined them in resting his eyes a spell. Ben had been snoring since Dee went to cash out Sharman and Zack.

Dee dutifully stood at the register till daybreak, awaiting any further customers.

…

Joe pried open his eyes as a brisk chill washed over him. He sat up from where he had been lying in the grass. He looked around. He had somehow ended up outside, looking at the backside of the thrift shop. Nearby, the rest of his crew snoozed in a heap. Joe got to his feet and cleared his throat.

“Alright, look alive you punks.” He said, clapping his hands.

Ben grumbled and pulled his blanket tighter over him, which was actually Zack’s hoodie and caused the poor boy to be flung over onto Sherman, who yelped and flailed his arm, smacking Ben in the face. The three of them groaned.

Joe rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “Let’s try that again. Up and at’em, gents!”

The three of them got to their feet.

“Hey, where’d the couch go?” Ben said.

“Did Dee kick us out?” Sherman said.

“Ben was snoring.” Zack said. Ben shoved him.

Joe shrugged, “Dunno about that. But I dare say our souls have not been sucked dry, so that’s something.”

There was general murmur of agreement.

“So,” Ben said smirking, “This haunted shop our official crash pad now?”

Joe looked to Sherman and Zack.

Sherman smiled, “It’s a wreck, but I guess that is kind of our thing.”

Zack nodded.

Joe laughed and twizzled his mouse-stache. “Then it is settled.” He placed his hand on the side of the building, “This will be our new pad.”

The others gave a vigorous cheer. Vigorous for the early morning, at least. Joe then turned to Ben with sharp and critical look, “Now Ben, you may apologize to me.”

Ben quirked an eyebrow, “Huh, for what?”

Joe stroked his ‘stache, “You know very well what, you sharp-eyed pigeon!”

Ben stepped right up into Joe’s face, “You wanna say that again?”

Joe sized up Ben, Ben sized up Joe. They sized each other for a moment before Joe spoke again, “I apologize for my morning breath, it must be difficult to stand there.”

Ben blinked through watering eyes, “Absolute torture.”

The two of them laughed and Joe wrapped his arm around Ben’s shoulders, “You had me going there, friend.”

“No use beating you,” Ben said snickering, “Your head’s too damn hard.”

They exchanged another laugh and walked out to the parking lot. Sherman looked at the haunted shop again.

“I hope we see Dee again.” He said.

“We will,” Zach said, taking out the rewards card and flipping it over in his hands.

The Wreckers - The First Job

This brain bug series was inspired by my friend Puck and her pokemon Superhero AU (Check out her twitter Puckarooni it’s awesome). This is my Pokemon #thuglife AU using the scrappy “route 1″ pokemon that most players tend to throw away early on. Enjoy.

~~~~

Brief Character explination:

Alolan Joe - Alolan Ratata 

Ben - Spearow 

Zach - Zigzagoon

Sherman - Sentret

~~~~

Zach and Ben stood idly next to a hardware store. Sherman waddled up and was ready to look tough with his crew. They passively welcomed him and returned to their idle stances. Eventually, Sherman sheepishly spoke up, “So, are we gonna do, uh, crimes or something?”

They responded that they are waiting for Joe. As if summoned, Joe appeared, holding armfuls of supplies.

“Listen up, gents.” He said as he set down the stuff, “We got work.”

Ben quirked an eyebrow, “What kind of work?”

Joe put on a smug grin, “See, folks like to have their enemies embarrassed but there ain’t ever anyone who is willing to do the dirty themselves. So, in come The Wreckers.” He gestured at the small group, “We take a little cash from the proper folks, go do some property damage or the like and then disappear. Get cash, commit crimes, it’s perfect.” He twizzled his mouse-stache. The others muttered in a mix of agreement and excitement.

“And” Joe continued, “We got our first gig. Messing up a rich dude’s car. Any suggestions?”

“Bust it up with a bat!” Ben said, swinging his arms.

“Slash the tires?” Says Zach, looking over some loose change he found scattered on the ground.

“Pour milk on the seats!” Said Sherman, chittering at his nefarious plot, “The smell will never go away. I should know, this one time, I had some milk in the car and–” He trailed off as he noticed that no one was listening.

“All good ideas, gents.” Said Joe, he bent over and reached into the bag of supplies he brought out of the store. “But we need to make a smash with this one. Or should I say,” He revealed a canister of kerosene, “A blast!”

The others mused in excitement.

“That’ll send a message.” Said Zach, pocketing the coins.

“Yeah! Don’t mess with the Wreckers!” Ben said, eyes sparkling.

“Whoa, this is gonna be so cool! Good idea, Bossman.” Sherman said.

Joe drank in his praise. “Alright you punks. Let’s move out!”

. . . . .

Under the cover of darkness, they zeroed in on the vehicle in question. A super pretty muscle car. The four of them ogled at the car in their own way. Zach scurried around it, Ben grumbled about rich people having all kinds of money, Sherman prattled about make and model and such, and Alolan Joe pretended to understand everything he was being told.

“Alright, enough of this crap,” Ben said, grabbing the kerosene. “Let’s light this thing up.”

Alolan Joe saluted, “So passes a gallant waste of people’s money. Joker had it coming no doubt.”

Ben soaked the car. Zach whipped out a match stick and handed it to Alolan Joe.

“When I toss this thing, the Wreckers will be in business. It, kinda chokes me up a little.”

An Arcanine in a police uniform appeared behind them. “And what are you punks up to?”

Alolan Joe pocketed the match in a single smooth motion as they all turned around.

“Good evening officer, just out for a stroll.” Said Alolan Joe a little too quickly.

“Yeah, is that against the law now too?” Ben said, accusingly.

“Maybe?” Zach muttered, his restless hands fidgeting.

Sherman stayed quiet as he had been instructed to when the FUZZ shows up.

“Ahuh, just four youths innocently loitering around someone’s car.” He sniffs the air. “Have you been drinking?”

They look at each other.

“What? No of course not.” Said Alolan Joe.

“No, sir.” Said Ben, begrudgingly.

Zack shook his head.

Sherman stayed quiet.

The Arcanine growled. “Okay, I think it’s time to take you kids back to your parents.”

“You’ll never take me in!” Sherman snapped and he turned to dash away.

The Arcanine scoffs and sent out a flare of embers to shock the kid, maybe get him to shape up. Unfortunately, the embers managed to spark the kerosene and the car went up in flames almost instantly.

Everyone jumped away from the blazing vehicle. They turned to look at the officer and he looked back at them. 

“I am going to contact the fire department,” He said in a voice shaking with anger, “You will be gone when they arrive, that is my favor to you. Now do me a favor and never speak of this again.”

Alolan Joe saluted him, “You got it boss.” And rushed off, picking up a stunned Sherman along the way.

Ben put on a smug grin in before booking it. Zach followed, hot on their tails.

...

The next day, Sherman scurried up to Ben and Zach who are loitering by the shop again.

“So,” Sherman said, “No long term repercussions, I assume?”

Ben shrugged and looked over to Zach who is working on a wire puzzle. The fidgety Zigzagoon paused and looked up to the two of them.

“Probably,” He said, looking down at his fidgeting hands. A tense air lowers on the crew.

Alolan Joe sauntered out of the shop with more junk in his arms. “Afternoon gents.” His prideful voice cracked the tension like a hammer. “I am pleased to say that we will not have to worry about that officer blabbing anything. And!” He set down his bags and reached into his pocket to pull out a small envelope. “The Wreckers are now officially in business.”

He opened it up and fetched a bill for each of them.

Ben looked at the bill and scoffed, “This is barely allowance money. We nearly get the slammer and we can’t even afford a lemonade!”

“All things in time, Ben.” Said Alolan Joe. “This is just the beginning.”

Sherman looked at the bill and smiled, “My first strip of–” He snickered, “dirty money.” He chittered and stuffed it into his pocket. He looked to Zach, who had pocketed his loot.

“Crime is pretty fun.” Sherman said.

“There’s nothin better.” Zach said.

King Carnage Awakens

A fever dream given form, this story is going to be a wild ramble. A monstrous villain gets a day job, but how long will it last? Enjoy. ~~~

Cassidy Quake typed methodically on his specially designed keyboard for those with massive reptilian fingers. He leaned back in his specially designed chair for long, thick, armored tails. He adjusted his specially designed headset for long curling horns. He was muttering the series of numbers and serial codes for shipping rates. A small alert popped up on his screen. "Break Time!"

He let a faint smile pass his face. "Finally." He pushed the keyboard aside, took off his headset, and awkwardly stood up from his chair. He grabbed the "Employee of the Month" mug that he stole from a coworker and headed to the break room. Inside, his buddy Malk was idly sitting at the table, cleaning his feathery antenna with his upper pair of arms, his lower pair clutched his coffee cup. He greeted Cassidy as he came in.

"Hey buddy, how'd the date go?" Malk asked politely.

"Didn't go the way I thought it would," Cassidy replied. He walked over to the coffee machine against the back wall.

"Oh?" Malk said, slowly stirring his coffee, "Do tell."

"Well for starters," Cassidy said, tapping out his order on the machine, "She wasn't a natural blond." The machine buzzed to life and coughed out the hot brew. "And also, she was an agent of GUILT trying to hire me for a heist."

Malk nodded and sipped his coffee, "That must have been hard to deal with. I know how much you like blonds."

Cassidy joined him at the table and blew the steam off his coffee, "Yeah, how could she lie like that?"

"So," Malk asked leaning forward, "Did you take the job?"

"Of course not, you dingus." Cassidy said. "I swore off working for GUILT, buncha sad sacks." He sipped his coffee and let out a refreshed sigh.

"So you could say," Malk said in his typical sing-songy voice that he uses for bad jokes, "They couldn't GUILT you into it, eh?"

Cassidy set down his coffee carefully before leveling a glare at Malk, "Some days," He began, letting the heat in his voice radiate and shimmer in front of him, "I think you actually want me to swat you, bugman."

Malk laughed, "Some days," He said, curling his mandible into something like a smirk, "I want you to. Would get me out of this dull-ass job for a few weeks."

"If you hate it so much, why are you still here?" Cassidy said. He wasn't angry. He was genuinely curious. He wasn't even looking at Malk when he asked. His head was down, staring at his cup of black coffee. Perhaps he was really just asking himself.

"I need those creds, man." Malk said, folding his lower pair of arms. He leaned forward onto the elbows of his upper arms, "But once I pay off my debt, I'm outta here." He nodded to himself, and spoke a little more softly, "I'm outta here."

They shared an uncomfortable silence. Then the breakroom phone rang out. They looked at each other.

"Hey, I'm still on break," Cassidy said. "You're just slacking off."

Malk buzzed a grumble before flapping his wings to bring himself to his feet and swaggering over to the phone. He picked up the phone and said in a cheesy, radio announcer voice, "You've reached the Dastard Industries break room, what can I do for you?"

A low-tone grumble and roar was bellowing on the other end of the line. Malk nodded along, adding non-committal chirps as reply.

"Right now?" Malk said at last. He turned to glance at Cassidy, who responded by tapping his coffee cup and then pointing at his watch. Malk sighed, "Yeah, I'll be right there." Cassidy smiled and sipped his coffee. Malk continued with, "Uh-huh,", "Yeah", and finally, "Right away, sir" before hanging up.

He walked back to the table and downed the rest of his coffee. "Looks like paradise still eludes me, old friend." He turned and left the break room.

Cassidy looked up at the clock above the door, still some time left to enjoy his break. He could contemplate his mistakes in life, a favored pastime. Or maybe he could create another plot theory for his favorite TV shows. It would give him something to talk to Laura about. If she ever calls back. Even if she was a GUILT agent, he still felt a kind of connection.

The phone on the wall rang again. Cassidy let his shoulders slump forward. He let out a begrudging moan as he rocked to his feet and walked over to the phone.

"Hello, this is the break room." He said in a tired voice.

"Hello, King Carnage." Said a heavy, rumbling voice. "We meet again."

Cassidy glanced around him, "Meet?"

But the break room was empty. Just the chairs, table and the too-small fridge they all had to share. It was a pain really. They should get a bigger fridge if they expect people to bring their lunches. Not everyone can go to the food carts every day. Management needs to get their act together.

"Oh wait," The voice said, "One second."

A humming sound came from the receiver and grew louder until it became a howl. Cassidy dropped the phone and stepped away from the wall until he was up against the table. A flash of electricity arced from the phone and struck the ground. The strike crackled on the floor to form the runes of a summoning gate. From which a blast of heat and sound errupted forth and opened a door to the abyss. A dark figure stepped through, clad in abyssal black armor and a cape made of nightmares. The horns on their helmet nearly touched the ceiling. Once they had fully emerged, the gate snapped shut behind them with a wisp of black smoke.

"Hello King Carnage, we meet again." They said again, the rumble in their voice made the room shake.

Cassidy pushed himself off the table and clapped, "Well hot damn, that was some trick, King Darkness."

The tall, foreboding figure tipped their head, "Why thank you. I spare no expense for you, King Carnage. But enough formalities," They swept their arm back, causing the cape to flourish behind them, "I have a job for you."

Cassidy sighed and shook his head, "Katie, I can't."

"Oh come on!" She said and pulled her helmet off, long black hair fell around the large eye that took up most of their face. "You haven't even heard what it is yet." Her gravelly voice had turned squeaky and pleading.

He gestured around him, "I am at work, Katie."

She pointed an accusing finger, "No," She smiled, "You are on break."

"For, like, 7 more minutes," He fired back, "I can't go on a job with you."

"That's more than enough time." She said. She snapped her fingers and a swirl of dark magic swirled into her open hand, is showed two figures. "We hop through the Forever Gate, grab the jewel, then hop back," The figures in her hand mimed her plan. He clapped her hands together, "Be finished before you know it."

"It's never that simple and you know it." He paused and his eyes went wide, "Jewel? You mean-"

"The Jewel of Eternity, yes. I finally figured out how to open the door in the sacred chamber." She said, excitement dripped from her voice in a giddy tone.

"We could bypass all the sacred barriers." He said, he tapped the spikes on his chin. "That means it would just be the Final Test and with us at full strength."

She clapped her hands, "Exactly, we could take it on easily."

The Jewel of Eternity, it's power could rival the Tome of Legends and the Kings of Calamity would finally have a chance to defeat the Legion of the Brave. After all these years, things could be like they used to. He could go back. He could be a villain again. He could feel alive again. He looked up at the clock, 5 minutes left. Plenty of time.

"Let's do it." He said.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out his keys. Dangling on a sturdy carabineer hook was a red stone. He clutched it in his fist and the room filled with a bright red light. When it faded, he stood clad in his own regal regalia, crimson red with accents of gold. King Carnage had awakened.

"Perfect," She fit her helmet back on her head and picked up the phone, tapping in a series of numbers and symbols. As it rang, she beckoned him closer. He stepped right up to her side, leaning in to try and hear the sound of the ringing.

The receiver clicked, "Hello? Is that you, Elder Folley"

King Darkness raised her hand and summoned a mighty storm of dark magic and then slammed it into the phone. The crackles of the summoning gate scoured the ground around them. King Carnage pulled his tail close to make sure he fit within the circle. In a flash of lightning, they vanished.

The trip was fast and disorienting, but there they stood, in the heart of the Temple of Eternity, a stone's throw away from their prize. They were staring down at a quivering figure wrapped in novice robes. His yellow crystal communicator fell from his hands and clattered on the floor.

"Greetings, foolish boy," King Darkness said, her voice a roaring bellow, "Your knavery has delivered the Kings of Discord to their ultimate goal. You should be rewarded. King Carnage, if you please."

He stepped out from the summoning circle and spun around, the tip of his armored tail caught the novice under the chin and sent him spinning to the ground.

"Haha, magnificent. I see you have kept up your training." She said, giving a small applause.

"Yeah, the company has a free gym membership." He said, rolling his tail around to stretch it out.

"Great," She said, entirely uninterested, now on to our task." She turned with a flourish of her cape.

The Sacred Chamber was a grand affair of marble and sky blue crystals, grecco style, very Olympian to follow the pantheon theming of their order. At the center stood a massive pedestal. Upon the pedestal was a glorious deep blue jewel resting on a pillow.

"After all this time," She said, walking up to the jewel. He walked up the opposite side of the pedestal, looking at the jewel. "King Carnage, if you please."

He nodded and reached out to take the jewel. Then paused.

"Wait, what about the Final Trial?" He said.

"Oh, well," She said, her gruff voice staggering, "We probably bypassed it," she stroked the chin of her helmet, "Because we didn't activate the other trials first." She nodded to herself. "That's probably it."

His hand was poised over the jewel, something about this felt too easy.

"King Carnage," She said, "I know you want to enjoy the drama of this moment, but I am certain the Elders will catch on soon and make this a much more unpleasant experience." She motioned for him to hurry up.

"Right, sorry," He reached down and picked up the jewel. There was no alarm. No siren. No sudden blast of stone guardians that burst from the walls. Just the gentle hum that came from the magical crystals. He waited a beat before realizing he was holding his breath. He let it out and said, "Got it."

"Excellent, now give it here." She held out her hand.

He laughed, "If you wanted it so bad, why didn't you…" His voice trailed off, he glanced at the jewel in his hand, "Why didn't you take it?" There was a subtle heat on his voice as glaring eyes rose up to meet her.

"I figured you wanted the final glory, seeing as how you looked so miserable in that lame office job. Now that you've had your fun, hand it to me so I can get us out of here." She said, her voice was losing its roughness and becoming frantic. "You have a job to get back to, remember?"

He drew his hand closer to him, "No, you're lying. Why did you want me to take the jewel? Is this the Final Test?"

"Now is not the time for this, Cassidy." The way she said his name sounded like it was a foul word. "Give me the Jewel of Eternity," That wasn't the sound of a request.

He looked at the jewel in his hand. Then he felt an itch in his legs. He looked down to see they were being consumed by fast growing crystals.

"Dammit!" He shouted, "What the hell is happening?" He looked up to Katie, "What is going on?"

She reached over the pedestal, "Give me the jewel and I can reverse the trap! Quickly."

He reared back his hand out of her reach, "You knew! You knew this would happen."

"What are you talking about?" She said, "This is the first time we've made it this far."

"Yeah, the first time WE'VE made it this far," He emphasized the word, "But not the first time YOU have made it."

He kept his hand away from her while the crystal growth made it up to his hips. He turned and noticed the novice stirring from the ground. The figure turned to face them and he caught a glimpse under the hood of the robe. He made eye contact with the bug eyes for a moment before they quickly turned away to hide.

"Malk?" He said, begrudgingly, "You got him on this?"

"You were never a team player, Cassidy." She said, her tone was harsh and cold, "You were always so self-centered. The rogue element. The lone wolf. We lost so many battles because of your arrogance. King Disaster and King Zealot both left because of you. Now, do something useful for once and give me the jewel!"

Her words bit deep. He felt an ice-cold javalin pierce his heart. Figuratively, though the crystals had climbed up his torso all the same. His old friends and collagues. His old life. He had wanted to go back to that, to those days of living care-free. But he had been hurting them. He grit his teeth.

"You think I don't know that? That I chase everyone away? I'm a big scary monster, what do you want from me?" He was shouting, the crystals were at his throat. He felt them coil down his arms. He felt his memories flood around him. He thought of Katie and Cody and Kaz. He thought of them coming together again in victory. He felt a warm tear in his eye. He let out a hot sigh. She was right, maybe he could do something useful for once. With all he strength, he cracked the crystals around his arm and held out the jewel for King Darkness.

"Here, Katie. I hope this makes you happy."

She didn't hesitate to reach for the jewel. "Oh, it--" And she froze.

Everything froze and the room was coated in a soft blue light, like what you think of when you see pictures of things in the ocean.

"Cassidy Quake," A gentle voice rang in his mind and made him look up. Floating above the pedestal was a humanoid being shaped from what looked like glass. It had translucent hair that flowed as if submerged in water. It drifted down and stood on top of Katie's frozen, outstretched hand. "You have been chosen."

He looked up at the being of glass, awe struck and without words. He finally managed to choke out, "Chosen? For what?"

It stepped off Katie's hand and floated down next to him. It placed what could be described as a hand on his chest, the locking crystals melted away to form armor that shifted to match her own form, clear and crystalline with a humming feeling of power. "A guardian of the Jewel of Eternity."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. "But," He said at last, "You have to be pure of heart to do that, right? Sorry but that ain't me."

It tilted its head to the side, much like a confused puppy, as if trying to find words for its reply. It finally spoke again, "Pure of heart doesn't mean you never made a mistake, it means you are willing to change. And you, Cassidy Quake," It said, patting his head, "Have that quality."

He felt a wave of emotion surge in him, something warm. He wasn't sure if these were the warm fuzzies that heroes talk about, but it was something nice, whatever it was.

"Do you accept your position?" It said to him.

He looked into where he approximated its eyes to be and said, "Full time work?"

Its expression remained unreadable, "It's more of an internship program. But it will provide valuable experience for your guardian resume and as soon as a position opens up with the Elders, you will be chosen for full-time."

He nodded along, "Yeah," He grunted and placed the jewel into the hand of the transparent being. "I already have a job, thanks."

The being let out a hissing sound similar to a mournful sigh. "Unfortunate, you would have been a great guardian."

It raised its hand and there came another flash of light. When the dazzle dissipated, he found himself in the break room again. Malk was huddled in the corner in the novice robes. King Darkness was standing across from him.

"--will." She said at last. There was a palpable moment where everyone readjusted to being ejected from the sacred chamber. King Darkness looked at King Carnage. They shared an intense and painful moment. He gave a brief huff through this nose and then glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Welp," He said, breaking the silence, "Time to get back to work." He held up his keychain and his armor warped back in the stone.

"That's it?" Katie said, stalking up to him, point a finger in his face, "You ruin our chance at reclaiming our glory and you just head back like it was nothing?"

"You know, you're right," He said, snarling, "I did forget something." He spun around, his tail smacking King Darkness upside the head hard enough to send her helmet across the room. He turned to Malk. "Looks like you get that time off you were looking forward to."

Malk made frantic but brief protests before Cassidy's tail found his face for the second time. Two friends, laid out cold on the break room floor. A job well done.

He adjusted his shirt, and headed back to his desk.

Cassidy Quake sat down in his specially designed chair, put on his specially designed headset, and pulled out his specially designed keyboard. He realized he still had his keys in his hands. He glanced at the stone on the carabineer, a beautiful clear crystal stone. He recalled the rush of donning his armor and plunging into the sacred chamber. He smiled to himself and pulled out his personal phone, typing in a number.

"Hello? Laura? Change of plans, when can we meet?"

A little Urban Fantasy

I wish I could say this was born out of a long, well thought out concept of a wizard/shaman character trying to scrape by in the big city as a detective on a supernatural investigative team whilst dealing with the myriad of fantasy creatures sticking their nose into his personal life and causing all kinds of chaos around his town. But in reality, I just wanted a chance for a guy to nail a God in the junk. So, Enjoy.

~~~~~~

The night air was heavy with the musk of summer heat. Standing across the desolate park was Mr. Simmons, or so he went by. I had been tracing his movements for some time, trying to catch him slip up. I had my suspicions after watching him stand behind little Timmy at the festival a few weeks ago. An unremarkable man, Mr. Simmons looked like any other office worker. His dull suit and unoffensive presence made him blend well into the scenery of the urban setting. A little too well.

I had managed to get him out to the meeting when I mailed him some photos I took of him at the festival. I had to shop in some special details, marking in the note that I had a special lens attached. I figured he would just get antsy and cover his tracks, but here he is. Staring at me as if to set me on fire. For all I knew, he could do it.

I guess Gods can get nervous too.

Mr. Simmons reached into his jacket. I tensed my hand around the revolver at my side. A bullet to the gut probably wouldn’t do much to an omnipotent being, but its presence allowed me the bravado I needed to stare down celestial types. He produced an envelope and held it out in front of him, quirking an expectant eyebrow.  I followed suit. Without losing my grip on the pistol, a steady hand fished a roll of film from my pocket. I also held it up for the long-distance scrutiny of my business partner.

Now this is where the dance gets tricky. We show off the goods, hand it over to a confidant and they make the trade. If either side showed sign of unfavorable response, the deal is blown and we go our separate ways, usually the head goes one way and the body goes another. Seeing as my conversation piece was powered by gunpowder and his by the visceral might of eternity, I hedged my bets on taking a dive. As such, I play by as many rules to get by as I can. Stay cool, stay professional, stay alive. Blackmailing Gods is tricky business to say the least.

I hand the cartridge to my confidant beside me, a little sprite I have lovingly deemed “Fetch”. The Fey can be chaotic at times, but with the right incentive they can be a boon for simple tasks. Such as, “give to the big scary guy and nab the goods. Then comes energy drinks.”

The diminutive fellow hefts the cartridge in his arms and sets his wings in motion. Across the park, Mr. Simmons does the same. His choice of companion is best described as a pile of compost. Various bits of plant detritus, leaves and twigs, jutting out at odd angles and mashed together with a pair of flowers at the top as a form of eyes I guess. It managed to balance the envelope on its head and shamble its way over to me.

I had been milling the thought for a while, ‘why would a land god use a blob of mulch as a companion and not some kind of cute woodland creature?’ I narrowed my eyes at the undulating creature. As it approached, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I glanced over to Fetch, he was almost to Simmons. I decided to make a small diversion. Tilting my head back, I let out a loud sneeze. Everyone on the scene froze for a moment as I reached for a handkerchief. I wiped my nose and glanced over at Fetch, who had been looking at me over his shoulder. He whipped around, letting the canister fall from his grip. It clattered on the ground.

“Ah, come on Fetch!” I called to him, “Be professional, like we practiced.”

Yelling at my companion gave me an opening to steal a glance at the vegetative familiar. The envelope had toppled from its head when I bellowed my sneeze. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the mess snatch the envelope with a bony hand protruding from within the pile of leaves. I made a sound, something between a hiccup and a shriek. Whatever it was, it was obvious enough to alert the land god to my epiphany. Er, correction. That was no land god. I was attempting to blackmail a being of decay, of rot and death. Standing across from me wearing a rather irritated expression was a Plague God.

Remember that part about “separate ways”? Well, things were going to go very “separate” for me in short order unless quick thinking could save my bacon. When in doubt, fall back on the classics.

“AAAAAAHHHH!” I shouted and ran like a maniac. This clued Fetch in to do his most favorite trick. A mystical light-speed hokey-pokey that filled the area with enough razzle and dazzle to out glitz Vegas. The diversion must have gotten to the very angry being of unlife as I managed to make the few steps necessary to pounce on the envelope. A well placed back-hand toppled the camouflaged corpse into a rotten pile of bones. I sprang to my feet as the glitter faded from the air, the little guy can only boogie so long. I let loose a string of colorful language. Or I tried, I got to kiss the dirt before finishing “Shi-“ and had a powerful and ancient being digging its all-powerful boot into my back.

“Did you really think you could best me, Mortal?” It said with a voice like searing acid. I felt a deep chill fill my body. A cold that threatened to stop my heart before I could blink. But, it is in our most dour moments, that glory can be found and indomitable wit can be harnessed. I dug my numb hand into my pocket and work what I assumed were my fingers around my revolver.

“Did—you think, I wouldn’t…gun!” I pulled the trigger and felt a hot sting in my foot.

Some ideas are better than others. The deity howled in laughter, stepping off me and drawing a long, gnarly looking scimitar. Raising it high over his head and looming over me.

“Such are the machinations of a fool.”

I flipped to my back, “Me? A fool?” I pulled my bloody foot in front of me. “Maybe, but I ain’t the one staring down a Gate, am I?” With my one-liner properly dispatched, I gave Simmons my best crippled nut-shot.

The look of surprise on his face was priceless. Horror, disgust, rage and maybe a tinge of acceptance, though that might just be the hubris talking. The portal I had unlocked via bullet to the foot swallowed the powerful being in a wondrous display of magic and light. There were magical words floating in the air, vortex-y looking structures crafted from aether and a really sci-fi “vwoosh”-ing sound. After the fireworks display, the dust settled and the park returned to a quiet and serene place. I even had a moment to enjoy the adrenaline before the shrill sound of police sirens permeated the night. My signal to get moving.

I whistled for Fetch and I hobbled my way back to the car. My faithful driver waiting patiently, smoking a thick cigar. As I approached, he pulled the door open for me and I threw myself inside, Fetch staying close by. We pulled away from the park and disappeared into the night, literally. It’s handy to know a few gnome mechanics.

“Just as planned?” Piped up my driver, the cigar clenched between his teeth.

I winced as the adrenaline gave way to the throbbing pain aching my whole body. I managed to pretty up the expression with a rugged and manly smirk. I reached down and tugged the envelope free from the hole in my foot.

“All in a day’s work.”

He gave a sideways glance and shuddered, “You Gates are so weird.”

We continued in silence. It gave me time to wonder. A plague god had no place waltzing into the festival. How the heck did he sneak in? I looked over the envelope and resolved to bring it up with Marshal back at the office. But that could wait.

“Danny,” I said, “Take me to 42nd and Vice. I got a date with a gal.”

“Can I ride shotgun?”

I shook my head, “Got a Plague God riding shotgun right now, but if you are into that kind of thing…”

He pounded the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. “Dammit, I never get to—“ He paused and let the cigar drop from his mouth. “Plague God!?”

I snatched the cigar before it landed on the seats and popped it back into his mouth. “Never fret, my friend.” I smiled, “I got a plan.”

He took a drag on the tobacco and let out a thick sigh, “I need to find a new line of work.”

Sir Rathus Kaine Returns

Inspired by reading Seven Blades in Black by Sam Sykes, I made this while trying to emulate the style. I highly recommend the book. Please enjoy my brain nugget.

++++

“Great General Baltha!” Said the messenger, running frantically into the office. Bethany Burlesque Baltha spared an irate glance at the frantic messenger.

“Yes?” She said, voice creaking from the remnants of a cold she was battling. The stress of running the Palace of Great Deeds had been ruining her sleep schedule which had made her condition rather worrisome. But she couldn’t let down the Glorious One, or more importantly, Abigail. She pushed the thought away from her mind. She realized she hadn’t been paying attention to the messenger.

“Uh, what was that?” She said, “Catch your breath and start over.”

The messenger seemed thankful and took a few deep breaths before speaking again. “Like I said, the Crypt of Kings was found open this morning.”

“Grave robbers?” She said and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I wouldn’t think a General would have to instruct her forces to hunt down bandits.” She paused as a cold chill passed down her spine, “Unless there is more to this story?”

The messenger, steadied himself on a chair in front of her desk. She motioned for him to take a seat. He obliged and took another breath.

“We thought it was stranger for bandits to get this far into the Palace of Great Deeds without anyone noticing. So we went into the crypt and found there was only one tomb disturbed. One that we have all been instructed to stay far away from.” He paused as the realization sunk into her. She rose from her desk, her eyes deadly serious and focused on him.

“Show me.”

The Glorious Empire of Divinia held a great deal of the western continent with its heart beating in the capital city of Falk at the top of Mount Spire. Surrounding allies all held an important part of the Glorious Empire. And in Velkinrath, they had the Palace of Great Deeds. A glorified cemetery for the great martyrs and pillars of the nation. Though, that was just on the surface. Deep beneath the polished marble floors, a series of chambers held dire secrets. And among them was the body of the true pillar of the Glorious Empire.

Sir Rathus Kaine. First of the Glorious Empire. The Hero who sacrificed everything for the benefit of The Glorious One. He was buried in a very prestigious place, behind several layers of protective barrier. The scraps of which lay in shattered flecks around the feet of Baltha. She gazed, a pale expression of unrest sitting uncomfortably on her face, into the gaping maw of the opened crypt. The messenger stayed at the door behind her as instructed, but for a fleeting moment she really wanted to have another body there as a shield. Or better yet, she really wanted to turn tail and run back up to her desk and dive underneath and snatch that bottle of aged whiskey for a long and comforting pull. But this would demand a report. And she would need to add a very important detail. One that Abigail would be looking very keenly for. And one that, should she leave out, would reflect poorly on her maintaining the loving relationship her neck had with her head.

She steeled her resolve and pressed onward. The echoing sound of her boots in the stone corridor emphasized the feeling that she was alone in the tomb. And hopefully, that was true.

She reached the remnants of the chamber door leading into the tomb. There were large gashes on the metal door that had severed the layers of locking mechanisms. She felt a cold wind on the back of her neck, she fought her urge to cry out, and simply turned around slowly. All she saw was the messenger standing at the entrance, dutiful and at attention. Poor soul must have been anxious as hell. Seeing his superior meekly stumbling in the dark towards a room he never had any knowledge of. She cleared her throat and called out to him.

“Seems like the grave robbers were using some impressive tools.” She said, and to her credit, she almost believed it. But the gouges in the door were clearly rend from the inside of the room. The messenger nodded from his vantage point far away from her.

She turned back to the door and the room beyond. A cold sweat had begun to bead on her forehead. One last thing to check. Just a quick peek will do the trick. Then she could leave and file a report that there was just some burglars that need apprehending and she could go back to trying to drown troubling memories and nightmares.

She slipped her hand between the cracks in the door and felt for the special switch that deactivated the traps within the room. You could conceive that these traps were built to discourage the incredibly dedicated thief, but she knew there was another being that it was actually designed for. Several layers of powerful and painful magic pointed at the sarcophagus at the center of the tomb. To be fair, it was a rather splendid piece of work, that regal coffin. Draped in the wonderful colors of the Glorious Empire and sealed with hundreds of pounds of inert stone, sculpted to look like the late Rathus Kaine. Or at least, it would, were it not for the gaping scar that tore through the length of the elegant confinement. And by all accounts, that kind of rupture did not appear to come from the outside.

“Oh no,” Baltha said to herself. She began to contemplate her options. She could bring this intel to Abigail, now would be fine. But she knew the question would come.

“And the body?” She would ask. In a voice like honey. So sweet. So viciously sweet. You wouldn’t notice the poison until you were already a blue and bloated corpse.

So, with her fear of the known overpowering her fear of the unknown, Baltha tipped her head forward and looking into the regal coffin’s wound.

Within the sarcophagus, wrapped in the regalia he wore in life, lay the late Sir Rathus Kaine. Eyes closed gently as if in peaceful rest. Hands holding onto the sword given to him on the day his life was taken by an enraged elemental and he passed away for the benefit of the Glorious Empire.

She closed her eyes let out a heaving sigh of relief. The body was still there. Still dead. Whatever had happened here was very strange, but at least she could end her report and Abigail would not come after her.

“Did you miss me?” A voice said.

Her eyes snapped open, Kaine was looking up at her. His eyes open wide. Bright and filled with a light that was not human, or divine, something else. She felt the would fall out beneath her, dropping to her knees and scrambling back to the entrance to the tomb. There came a blast of wind as Kaine stepped beside her. The edge of his sword found its way under her chin.

“After all these years, you never visited.” He said, his voice was distant but she could feel it pounding in her head. “I guess I can’t blame you, what with these magical traps. Did you make these, Baltha? Traps always were your specialty.”

She swallowed hard, the edge of the blade biting gently into the skin of her throat. Her body trembled as she tried to lift herself away from the blade. She was so close to the door, to the trap switch, she could still make it out alive. She just needed to buy time.

“Please don’t kill me.” She said, choking back a sob. “I don’t want to die.”

The pressure against her throat lessened. “Oh dear, Baltha. I am not going to slit your throat.” He said and slipped the blade into the sheath at his side. “You’re just following orders.” His eyes danced with fire as he looked down at her. “Another dog of Abigail.”

“Yes,” She said, stumbling to her feet and falling against the door frame, “I was just a pawn. A tool.”

He tipped his head to the side, “Baltha, what are you doing?”

She jammed her hand into the door crack, “I’m putting you back in your box, Kaine!” She shouted and flicked the switch. The magic in the traps began to hum back to life.

“Aha, I see.” He said and smiled. “So that’s where it is.” The hum of the magic traps began to change tone to a rhythmic pulsing in and out. It sounded like a grumbling, gravelly echo. Like someone…snoring?

“You know Baltha,” He said, his form shivering and fading away to show her still standing over the sarcophagus, asleep on her feet. “You really should get more sleep. You’ll get nightmares.” He said and clapped his hands.

Baltha woke up with a start, standing in front of the sarcophagus, looking down into the gaping wound. The empty box presented the lovely interior of the royal coffin. She turned back to the door, to find Kaine standing there. His hand was slipped into the crack in the door.

“Goodbye Baltha.” The clock of the switch rang in her ears before being drowned out by the roar of the magical traps.

At the end of the corridor, the messenger barely had time to dive away from the blast of powerful magic that ripped out of the tomb. He scrambled to his feet and looked down the glassed corridor.

“General Baltha?” He called out.

There came no answer, but there was a whisper that came from behind him.

“You’re a messenger, right?”

The young messenger spun around to see an emaciated and ashen body wreathed in the scraps of tattered regal clothing, a dangerous blade hung at his hip. He placed a hand on the weapon and cleared his throat to insist a response.

“Y-yes, sir.” He said, fumbling to pull a notepad and everink quill out of his pockets.

“Good,” The shambling corpse said, his smile causing cracks to form at the edges of his face, “Tell Abigail I’m coming for a visit.”

The messenger scribbled on the pad. At the bottom of his notes, a flourished blank patch begged a name. He looked up to the imposing threat before him.

“Uh, who–“

“Me?” Said the crackling creature. It’s eyes flashed with a sickly light and his grin peeled back to reveal sharpened teeth. “I’m the Boogeyman.”

From the Warmed Desk - Hydra’s Head Tavern

I do a lot of writing when I am bored at work. Here is one of the quick world-building stories I coughed up one day. Characters I used to play in DnD come together to have a Tavern AU together. Enjoy.

_____

The seedy backstreets of Fwanze are lined with the most bizarre delights and sins that a person could concoct. The gruel and garbage of the city circles the drain and floats down the gutters to the bars and brothels where the regal and a rascal join together to drink bad beer and ogle beautiful young things.

Among these respected and resented establishments, there are a few that stand moderately above the rest. Mainly because they have managed to survive the slurry of puritanical threats coming down from the purging authorities. At the east end, Madam Thorax’s Sinful Dreams will delight any and all who might want a delight for a premium price. To the south, Lucky Legend Land (the Ls are upside-down 7s) will grant you the games of chance you could only dream of in your wildest nightmares. The devil went down to LuLeLa. And to the lawless west, nestled between the grit and thunder of the factories, you have the humble tavern The Hydra’s Head. Newcomers will learn quickly that this place has survived so long thanks to customer loyalty strong community, plus the hydra’s curse threatens if the tavern falls, two more will sprout in its place.

Let’s take a look into this tavern.

Step through the heavy oaken door on any given night and be welcomed to the smell of grilling meat and the sound of laughter. Laborers, traders, and even a few off-duty authorities will be seen sharing a drink and the signature meat pie or steak sandwich. Regular swear by the tender and seasoned meat, but the chef, a burly gentleman, refuses to reveal his recipe or even what animal it comes from. “Old family recipe, da?” He would say, before slamming his butcher’s knife through a thick slab of marbled meat.

As you belly up to the bar to pick up your order of vittles, you will likely see the dazzling stock of liquors and the barrels of artisan brews. It can be overwhelming at first, but thankfully, you have a helpful guide to give you a good idea of what will satisfy. The quick and clever bartender has what you are looking for. Even going so far as to say that he is, “The greatest bartender the world has ever known!” Just be sure to not to stiff him on a tip, you might find yourself short on any shiny valuables you weren’t actively protecting.

And if you are so crass as to try and cause some kind of trouble in this fine establishment, you will likely be forced to contend with the massive bouncer of the Hydra’s Head tavern. Towering over most people, they have a rather calm demeanor and attempt to placate matters peacefully first. But he is known to challenge rowdy guests to duels before beating them senseless and taking their belts. A strange habit.

So if you are finishing your day’s work in the mines, at the factory, or just trying to survive the crowds at the market, you can find rest, respite, and a fine meal waiting for you at the Hydra’s Head Tavern.

YO WRITERS

Stop what you’re doing right now and go write 3 sentences of your story.

Every time you see this, write 3 lines.

Reblog so other writers will do the same, let’s finish these damn stories.

I feel this is terribly important to keep in mind if your world building includes a substantial time skip. Unless a given reason has stagnated the world, "100 years later" should show a drastically different world.

We went from horse and buggy to space in less then 100 years

*strums guitar*  I like to call this song  "Terry Pratchett Should Be Required Reading, Jesus Christ He Didn’t Fuck Around"

been playing okami recently…

I’m depressed today and all my friends and my boyfriend are too busy to talk to me, or just don’t want to, u don’t know. Do I have the right to be sad about it?

Absolutely you do. It’s always hard when the people you care about don’t have the time to hang out and it’s completely valid to be sad about it. Be sad as long as you need to. I’ve spent weeks being sad before because I needed it.

After that though, there are some decisions to be made.

When I was in a similar position, one of my friends told me that, if I wanted to be part of the group, I needed to ask.

I wasn’t hopeful that asking would help. And, to be honest, sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes people didn’t follow up when I asked them to hang out or they made it clear they’d rather be somewhere else.

Sometimes they said yes and then they invited me to hang out later.

If/when they say no, there’s another decision to be made. It’s about how you want to live your life. If being with people is important to you, maybe it’s time you join a club or online group where you can find people who are looking for friendship. Look for people that make you happy, that don’t make you second guess when you ask for what you need.

For me, it meant that i didn’t want to wait for people to be my happiness anymore. I wanted to make stuff and learn things without waiting for friends who always seemed to have something else going on. I spent more time writing and I went to a different college than some of my best friends. I learned to do a lot of things on my own and, for me, that was the best turn of events imaginable.

When people say no, it’s important to find something that fulfills your needs. It’s hard and there are a lot of false starts, but the important thing is you keep trying different things until you find something that sticks. Stop giving others chance after chance and give yourself a couple instead.

Human Moment

Alright, writeblr—

When you see this, reblog it with three things that make you (unconventionally) beautiful— or just something you LIKE about yourself. We have a lot of negative self-talk and self-deprecating humor in this community, and it’s time to take it back.

Here are mine:

I have countless freckles.

I’m good at making children feel seen and heard.

I like the stories I write!

And you’re going to see this and be like, “Oh, but this isn’t for me,” but it IS and it’s time to own YOU.

Inspired by a conversation with @madammuffins. And I’m tagging @mvcreates @pens-swords-stuff @jojoscoffeeandwriting @caitwritesstuff @crowswritetoo and @scottishhellhound to help me get this started, too?

My tl is really dead rn so if ur a writeblr who writes fantasy, urban fantasy, anything with kings and queens and lots of fighting and shit (doesn’t have to have all of these elements …btw!)

That’s my jam, reblog so i can follow u and check ur rlly cool shit out