MSPA fan-fiction

[I-gor]

Poor Dave. The same disease that struck down our beloved Dostoievsky.

[I] Because, It's Midnight Part IV

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ONE WEEK LATER
Spades Slick: Alright, everyone ready to try and discuss plans again?
Hearts Boxcars: Yeah
Spades Slick: Okay so how do we do this?
Hearts Boxcars: Why don't we try an' lure them outta their bank?
Spades Slick: How do we do that?
Diamonds Droog has joined.
Diamonds Droog: CCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKK
Hearts Boxcars: An' hit 'em
Spades Slick: Alright who just got on the channel?
Diamonds Droog: I JUST GOT HIT BY THAT CANS GUY
Diamonds Droog: HE'S UNNATURAL
Spades Slick: What?
Spades Slick: That was a week ago
Diamonds Droog: WHAT?
Spades Slick: We thought you'd been in the hospital
Diamonds Droog: Are you saying I've been in a coma or some crap like that?
Spades Slick: No, you disappeared for a few days
Spades Slick: And apparently just reappeared in the future
Hearts Boxcars: The fuck? He can punch people into next week?
Spades Slick: Looks like
Clubs Deuce has joined.
Clubs Deuce: Yeah, it detonated
Clubs Deuce: Why?
Clubs Deuce: My back hurts.
Spades Slick: Oh hey Clubs reappeared
Spades Slick: Must've been hit too.
Hearts Boxcars: Damn, we got hit pretty hard.
Spades Slick: Yeah
Spades Slick: No time to dwell though
Diamonds Droog: What do you mean?
Diamonds Droog: I think my arm's broken
Spades Slick: Which arm?
Diamonds Droog: The left-right one.
Spades Slick: If I lost an arm, I'd probably stab my eye out.
Diamonds Droog: And I think Cans popped one of my seams.
Spades Slick: Don't be a dapper stickler
Spades Slick: We have plans to discuss
Diamonds Droog: What's wrong with your hat?
Diamonds Droog: It looks a little...odd.
Spades Slick: My hat should be perfectly fine.
Diamonds Droog: Like it's been rumpled and torn
Spades Slick: Doesn't bother me
Diamonds Droog: No, there's a hole
Diamonds Droog: In the top
Spades Slick: I can buy another.
Diamonds Droog: I can see your head through it.
Diamonds Droog: There's nothing in your hat.
Spades Slick: Are you trying to tell me I have no head?
Diamonds Droog: No
Diamonds Droog: But you keep stuff in the hat, don't you?
Spades Slick: OH WAIT
Spades Slick: OH GOD DAMN IT
Spades Slick: WHERE THE FUCK AM I GOING TO GET NEW DOGS
Spades Slick: THAT CONFECTION STORE CLOSED DOWN
Hearts Boxcars: You shoulda kept 'em in y'r backup hat
Spades Slick: What backup hat?
Diamonds Droog: Like I've been doing
Spades Slick: I don't have a backup hat
Hearts Boxcars: Me neither.
Diamonds Droog: Well, serves you right then
Spades Slick: Well fuck, now I want to kill some of those Green Asshats.
Spades Slick: But we still need to break down the bank
Spades Slick: Actually, to hell with it, Boxcars, go take it down, right now.
Spades Slick: I don't even care anymore
Hearts Boxcars: Alright then.
Hearts Boxcars: Anyone else coming?
Spades Slick: I've got other things in my mind
Diamonds Droog: Broken arm.
Diamonds Droog: Got to get it fixed
Spades Slick: I've got plans to make.
Diamonds Droog: Plans.
Spades Slick: Conspiring against those Green Time Bandits
Diamonds Droog: All of them?
Spades Slick: All of them
Diamonds Droog: Except one?
Clubs Deuce: Who?
Spades Slick: Yeah
Spades Slick: Except one
Spades Slick: That's mandatory though, nothing worth noting there
Diamonds Droog: It's nothing
Diamonds Droog: It's the only rule in your new lawbook, eh?
Spades Slick: Perhaps
Spades Slick: But that fits my only rule
Spades Slick: DON'T DIE
Hearts Boxcars: Okay, I'm outside that bank
Hearts Boxcars: You sure I should do it?
Spades Slick: Yes, barge in and kill them
Clubs Deuce: I gave you the explosives
Hearts Boxcars: I have them
Hearts Boxcars: But I also have an axe
Hearts Boxcars: AUGH
Hearts Boxcars: IT WAS A SETUP
Spades Slick: A setup? How? I just told you to do this.
Hearts Boxcars: ITS THOSE DETECTIVES
Diamonds Droog: Just blow them up!
Hearts Boxcars: THEY'RE RIGHT HERE
Diamonds Droog: Throw the explosives and get out!
Hearts Boxcars: DONE
Hearts Boxcars: DONE AND DO-
Clubs Deuce: RUN!
Spades Slick: Did Boxcars just die?
Hearts Boxcars: No he did not, and we're tracing this signal, so be warned, we have the root.
Spades Slick: Oh fuck
Hearts Boxcars: Banks gone though, you guys succeeded there.
Diamonds Droog: Deuce, I told you to increase security on this thing
Spades Slick: Who are you?
Hearts Boxcars: Just another Detective.
Diamonds Droog: Did he drop his radio and run?
Diamonds Droog: How foolish.
Hearts Boxcars: No, we got him.
Hearts Boxcars: He in custody of the poilce
Spades Slick: Hah
Spades Slick: Like that'll do anything
Hearts Boxcars: Doesn't need to
Hearts Boxcars: I'm crushing this radio now.
Hearts Boxcars: See you gents later
Hearts Boxcars has left.
Spades Slick: Okay, so we're down one man and the Sleuths are on us.
Spades Slick: It's a three to three fight
Spades Slick: Can we do this?
Diamonds Droog: Broken arm.
Spades Slick: Deuce?
Diamonds Droog: Ought to even the odds some.
Clubs Deuce: I can do it
Clubs Deuce: I guess
Spades Slick: Any problems with your limbs?
Clubs Deuce: My back hurts
Clubs Deuce: Man, I was in the tunnel
Spades Slick: That's nothing, forget it, pain is just weakness leaving the body
Spades Slick: look alive over there
Spades Slick: We got some formidable enemies coming up on us, see?
Diamonds Droog: He's technically alive
Diamonds Droog: Should we meet up at the front?
Spades Slick: Diamonds, you should take to the roof.
Diamonds Droog: All right
Diamonds Droog: I'll head up there from the second floor
Spades Slick: Provide us with some background heat
Diamonds Droog: Let me get some ammo from my office
Spades Slick: I hear this Sleuth guy has knives, I'll see how good he is with those knives
Spades Slick: Deuce, rig the streets.
Diamonds Droog: Don't you have knives anyway?
Spades Slick: Exactly
Diamonds Droog: And don't you have swords in that deck of yours?
Spades Slick: I'm fine with the razor right now.
Diamonds Droog: All right
Spades Slick: And I happen to have a gun as well
Clubs Deuce: Did someone clean off the black powder I put on the streets?
Diamonds Droog: You?
Diamonds Droog: Guns?
Spades Slick: Things can get pretty crazy.
Spades Slick: Rushing guys with heat is really, really stupid.
Diamonds Droog: I'll say I'm impressed.
Diamonds Droog: You're finally learning to use ranged weaponry.
Spades Slick: Don't count on me liking it.
Spades Slick: I'm going to try and avoid using it
Clubs Deuce: I need some help getting my other barrel of black powder
Spades Slick: Where are you?
Spades Slick: The basement?
Clubs Deuce: In my office.
Clubs Deuce: Yeah.
Clubs Deuce: I need help carrying it up.
Diamonds Droog: That's why we need Boxcars right now.
Spades Slick: Too late for that.
Spades Slick: I'll go get it
Clubs Deuce: Thanks
Spades Slick: Or wait, where's that Errand Boy we got up here a few days ago?
Diamonds Droog: Errand boy?
Diamonds Droog: What errand boy?
Spades Slick: Oh yeah
Clubs Deuce: I don't remember one
Spades Slick: I hired on an errand boy while you were in subspace or whatever
Spades Slick: Don't know where 'e got to.
Spades Slick: I'll just go get it
Diamonds Droog: I see
Diamonds Droog: Come to think of it, it was kind of stupid to send Boxcars off to open up a bank with a broken leg.
Spades Slick: Well, he had a crutch
Spades Slick: It was just throwing some dynamite
Spades Slick: I mean, we didn't expect the Sleuths to be there
Spades Slick: What, did you expect me to do it?
Clubs Deuce: Yes.
Spades Slick: Okay I got a barrel
Clubs Deuce: OK, it's black powder, right?
Spades Slick: Mmmm yeah
Clubs Deuce: Good
Spades Slick: I'll take it up to the streets
Spades Slick: Droog, you set up on the roof?
Diamonds Droog: Yeah
Diamonds Droog: Sniper rifle ready and everything.
Spades Slick: Alrght, Deuce, start setting up the powder, we likely don't have much time
Spades Slick: Fuck why are there so many stairs between your office and the exit
Diamonds Droog: They're heading this way
Spades Slick: someone could have warned me about these stairs
Diamonds Droog: They're on the corner of 8th and Main
Spades Slick: How do you see them?
Diamonds Droog: Why would anyone warn you about stairs?
Diamonds Droog: They drive around in this flivver like they own the place
Spades Slick: Hmm
Diamonds Droog: I'm on the roof, remember?
Spades Slick: Well, see if you can't shoot them from here
Diamonds Droog: And you had this law that our casino was the tallest building allowed in the city
Diamonds Droog: Out of range
Spades Slick: In retrospect, that was a bad idea, we could only fit so many tables in there
Spades Slick: And I got rid of all the billiards tables
Spades Slick: Right, Deuce, here's the barrel
Spades Slick: Set this up, we need some real power here.
Clubs Deuce: All right
Spades Slick: They'll be on us in a second
Clubs Deuce: Just gotta pour this evenly across the streets
Clubs Deuce: Set up the fuse
Diamonds Droog: They're only a few blocks away now
Diamonds Droog: I'm going to try blowing out a few tires
Clubs Deuce: All right, it's all set up
Spades Slick: Right
Clubs Deuce: It'll light up like a Christmas tree
Spades Slick: Lets make this transpire.
Spades Slick: Any luck with the shooting Droog?
Diamonds Droog: Went through the engine block.
Diamonds Droog: Pity, it was a nice car.
Diamonds Droog: Looks like they're walking
Spades Slick: How fast?
Diamonds Droog: Pretty slowly.
Spades Slick: Armed?
Diamonds Droog: Oh, wait
Diamonds Droog: This is not good.
Spades Slick: What now?
Diamonds Droog: They have Boxcars tied to a chair
Diamonds Droog: Is that-
Diamonds Droog: Is that a flamethrower?

Part V

[orngjce223]

Gabu sure knows how to lay on the suspense.

[sarasvati]

Thank you for all the comments, guys!

It's a pretty ridiculous idea that Jade's planet is Earth, but that can be ignored in favour of a good narrative. Well done.

I'd interpreted this as something like, say, a Land of Sand and Ruin, something that's more like a facsimile of a post-apocalyptic earth, than the actual thing.

This is definitely it! Land of Sand and Ruin was actually the exact name I used when I was planning it all out in my head. I knew Jade's planet was the one with the volcano and I thought it would be interesting if it was all full of a dead civilization, considering her house is right on a bunch of ruins. Then I imagined "what's more depressing than world-death by volcano."

I could make up half a dozen symbolic connections, but the entire truth is I just thought it'd be adorable for Jade and Dave to wander around in post-apocalyptica. wtf, me.

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Spades Slick: Any luck with the shooting Droog?
Diamonds Droog: Went through the engine block.
Diamonds Droog: Pity, it was a nice car.
Diamonds Droog: Looks like they're walking
Spades Slick: How fast?
Diamonds Droog: Pretty slowly.

This absolutely slayed me for some reason. I love it.

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He started feeling off sometime during the middle of the fifth song. Even in his shades, the lights were piercing through them like nothing and hitting his retina like tiny suns. He turned his head downward, focusing on the turntables and the various dials and switches. Somehow he wasn't able to clearly see the tiny labels denoting what did what, but it didn't matter to Dave, as he had learned them all by heart. However, when he began seeing twice as many, he broke out in a sweat. It had suddenly gotten very hot to Dave, hotter than what he normally felt on-stage. His ears, which were heavily being relied on, started picking up static. It was a little at first, totally imperceivable to Dave, but it grew with his headache until he could barely hear the auditory cues he relied on so dearly. Dave was confused and frightened, but he had continued to desperately ignore that and tried continuing his job. He felt a fast forward, and even though it was a split-second one, he had missed an important beat. His hands confused themselves for one another, creating more mistimed beats and scratches. More fast-forwards. He saw his friends in a brief glimpse of visual clarity looking concerned. Dave's legs trembled. He couldn't understand this sudden wetness crawling down his legs nor the sudden taste of copper. Then Dave vomited right on the turntable, shorting out the circuitry, and collapsed in an unconscious, convulsing heap.

I'm a horrible person because I love Dave-torture. WAITER, MORE OF THIS PLEASE.

[gardenGenosse]

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Distortion, Chapter 4

Dave woke up feeling very good. His headache felt virtually nonexistent and didn't feel any sensation that he was going to throw up. He smiled, sat up from his clothes heap, and checked the time on his ironically analog wall clock. Two-thirty. Dave sighed, thinking at least the extra sleep would keep him up for his concert. He looked outside his room, and noticed his friends had gotten into his video games, but he didn't really mind, considering how late he slept in. Dave grabbed his cell phone from his dresser and dialed in a number. The person on the other end responded.

“Yo, Dave!”

“Sup, man. Lissen, I have some of my homies in town. It's spring motherfuckin' break for them. Izzit okay if they get in for free?”

“No prob, my man. Just have them enter with ya over on the side entrance and everything will be arranged.”

“Sweet, bro. Talk to ya then!”

“Okay, man!”

Dave hung up and put the cell phone back on his dresser. After a quick change into new clothes and a quick fabric deodorizer spray, he joined his friends.

“Hey Dave!” John smiled, though somewhat oddly at Dave. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, man. Though I wasn't sick in the first place, better.”

Rose scoffed, and killed John's character. Apparently it was a fighting game they were playing.

“I'm in next game.”

---

“Dave, this isn't a freaking movie theater!” Rose was fuming redder than the sky in the slightly chilly parking lot.

Dave smirked. “Well, it's a theater regardless, innit?”

“He's right, Rose.” John tried his best to not look like he was in it.

“I am gonna kill you two the moment we return to your apartment. That is, if you don't expire beforehand.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Rose, I'mma give my keys to John here.” He lobbed the keys over to John, who caught them awkwardly.

Dave shepherded his friends to the side entrance, and knocked on the door. It opened slightly, saw who it was, and closed the door to unlock it and opened up completely.

“Yo, Dave!”

Dave fistbumped the man, no older than 25. “Yo, dawg. This be my peeps.”

“Nice, dude. One of them yo' girlfriend?”

“Nah, man. But they all are cool.”

“Sweet. Come in, guys.”

---

Eventually, John, Rose and Jade got into the mosh-style audience pit, crowded on all sides by complete strangers. They each also had a small VIP sticker affixed to their chests.

“Hey, at least we're close to the stage.” John rationalized.

“Yeah, and we get to watch Dave be so cooool!”

“Sometimes, deep down, I wish out of the four of us, that at least two of us had perfect rational cognitive abilities.”

“You've been saying that all day, Rose!”

“Yeah! Forget all that stuff! Have a good time!” Jade grinned her goofy grin.

Rose cracked a small smile. Meanwhile, backstage, Dave was starting to cradle his head. The headache had returned while he was driving over to the theater, but only in the last several minutes did it become almost unbearable. He reached into his cargo pants and pulled out a small bottle of ibuprofen and checked the contents before taking the last little tablet it contained.

“Yo man.” Dave jumped at his friend's voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah man. Just got a little headache. Nothing big.”

“Okay dude. We're starting, y'all better drop some beats.”

Dave nodded in approval, and walked out on-stage to his turntable booth. He saw his friends in the crowd, and gave the peace sign to them in a very casual, cool manner. He could hear John yell at him from the audience.

“Knock ‘em dead, Strider!”

Dave saw the rapper that hired him for this gig appear on stage and begin the act. Dave ironically cleared his throat before starting up the turntables. The first three songs Dave was stellar, hitting every beat, making every scratch with such amazing timing and accuracy, the crowd was going wild. He saw his friends, and was satisfied that even Rose looked to have finally dropped that ridiculous theory of him being sick.

He started feeling off sometime during the middle of the fifth song. Even in his shades, the lights were piercing through them like nothing and hitting his retina like tiny suns. He turned his head downward, focusing on the turntables and the various dials and switches. Somehow he wasn't able to clearly see the tiny labels denoting what did what, but it didn't matter to Dave, as he had learned them all by heart. However, when he began seeing twice as many, he broke out in a sweat. It had suddenly gotten very hot to Dave, hotter than what he normally felt on-stage. His ears, which were heavily being relied on, started picking up static. It was a little at first, totally imperceivable to Dave, but it grew with his headache until he could barely hear the auditory cues he relied on so dearly. Dave was confused and frightened, but he had continued to desperately ignore that and tried continuing his job. He felt a fast forward, and even though it was a split-second one, he had missed an important beat. His hands confused themselves for one another, creating more mistimed beats and scratches. More fast-forwards. He saw his friends in a brief glimpse of visual clarity looking concerned. Dave's legs trembled. He couldn't understand this sudden wetness crawling down his legs nor the sudden taste of copper. Then Dave vomited right on the turntable, shorting out the circuitry, and collapsed in an unconscious, convulsing heap.

---

John was shocked. “Oh God, what's happening?!” He muttered obscenities to himself

Rose wished she could do something, but was lost in the moment to really wrap her brain around the idea to call an ambulance immediately. When she did snap out of it, Jade was crying, and John was no where to be seen.

“Shit, Egbert.” She grabbed Jade by the wrist. “Come on, we have to find him.”

“But Dave!” Jade sniffled.

Rose weaved through the stunned crowd with Jade in tow. “I know, Jade.”

“Why are we going away from him?”

“I don't know! We have to find John, I guess!”

Rose had no idea what she was doing; she was going on the very first thing that came to her mind. Both got outside of the crowd, who was starting to realize that this was not part of the act.

“Rose, I see John!”

“Where?”

“He just went through that door!”

Jade pointed to a door labeled ‘EXIT'. Rose and Jade rushed over to the door and went outside. They found John around the corner of the building with his cellphone, completely in a hysterical flipout.

“MY friend just collapsed and he's convulsing!” John wringed his hands. “I don't know! I think so! He never tells me about shit like this!” More wringing. “I don't know, I'm visiting here!” Lip biting. “I don't know the name of the building!” John noticed Rose. “Where are we?!”

“I wasn't really paying attention, John.”

“Goddammit!” John burst through the two women and off down the sidewalk.

“Damn you, John. You're scared of getting mugged, but leave two women in an alleyway.”

“We should see if Dave is okay!” Jade whimpered.

Rose checked the door. “It's locked. Come on, let's try the main entrance!”

The two girls ran back to the front of the theater. Many people seemed to be leaving, either out of confusion or selfishly realizing the show was over and they would not get a refund. Security, upon seeing the VIP stickers, let the two in, and they rushed back to the stage. Dave was still convulsing, and it looked to be even more violent than before.

“Shit, a seizure.” Rose gritted. “Dammit.”

Rose held Jade, shielding her from the traumatic imagery. She looked around, and saw John run up to them.

“I called an ambulance. They're coming in a couple of minutes.”

“John, he's been like that for four minutes. I've read a plethora of literature on medicine, and that is not good.” Rose felt a little hysterical herself.

John, meanwhile, seemed a tad more composed, but still very nervous. “It's going to be okay. Dave always comes out on top…”

Rose simply sighed, still shielding Jade from what was happening. The paramedics came soon enough and in a flash were gone with Dave. John caught the name of the hospital they were taking him, and grabbed his two friends and ran to Dave's car. He prayed to God he wouldn't get pulled over for speeding.

Why am I not already reading this? This is very good Gabu. I will now dig through your history to find the other chapters.

[reclusiveAmateur]

I'm a horrible person because I love Dave-torture. WAITER, MORE OF THIS PLEASE.

Oh god me toooooo

And that story. Was. FANTASTIC. Oh my god. One of the best things in this thread. I don't mind that it was shippy at all; there's nothing wrong with that. I tend to the Dave/Rose myself, but I'm not sure there's a possible pairing in the series I dislike-- which probably means I've been in fandom far too long. And even if I did have a strong preference, that was too beautifully written for me to care. I mean, the voices are absolutely, unfailingly perfect, and it's so lyrical, described in such beautiful and elegant detail, and I--I-- I'm just-- going to reread this for a few days and hope maybe I learn something. I.

[orngjce223]

Just FYI, when someone's having a seizure, you hold their head so they don't bang it against anything. No need to keep them from swallowing the tongue, but HOLD THE HEAD.

/publicserviceannouncement

[Ember]

I-gor, I am smiling from ear to ear through every single one of your Midnight Crew logs. It makes me weirdly happy to think of the town that Slick built as this land of unremitting chaos with explosions and gunfights and murders everywhere all the time. He wouldn't have it any other way, would he? He might grumble about detectives and other gangs getting in his way, but he'd be miserable if he ever ran out of people to kill.

Sarasvati, I've finally figured out who your writing style reminds me of: Ray Bradbury. This is a very, very good thing. (Also, I dig your username. Goddess of creativity, yeah? Just keep doing what you're doing and you'll live up to it just fine.)

[I-gor]

[I] Because, It's Midnight Part V
The Thrilling Conclusion

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Spades Slick: Is it just three of them?
Diamonds Droog: Yeah
Spades Slick: Okay
Diamonds Droog: But they have Boxcars hostage
Diamonds Droog: They have a sign
Diamonds Droog: Can't tell what it says
Spades Slick: Doesn't matter.
Clubs Deuce: But Boxcars could die
Spades Slick: Hearts is a good man, but the casino, and us, are more important
Diamonds Droog: They're writing on the sign
Diamonds Droog: Hold on
Diamonds Droog: Getting my scope
Diamonds Droog: "We see the explosives on the road"
Spades Slick: Shit
Diamonds Droog: "We have a flamethrower"
Spades Slick: Shit
Diamonds Droog: "If you attempt to rush us we will ignite the explosives"
Spades Slick: Shit
Diamonds Droog: "And kill your friend"
Spades Slick: Shit
Spades Slick: Well what do we do now?
Spades Slick: Can you pick them off?
Diamonds Droog: One of them, certainly
Diamonds Droog: But by that time they'd have Boxcars dead and the black powder on fire
Spades Slick: Which one has the flamethrower?
Spades Slick: Pick off that one.
Diamonds Droog: They have a sniper rifle pointed at you
Spades Slick: Which one?
Spades Slick: There is only three
Diamonds Droog: One with a sniper rifle pointed at you
Diamonds Droog: Another guy with a flamethrower
Spades Slick: One has a flamethrower, one has a rifle, and one has a sign
Diamonds Droog: And some guy with a sign and a knife
Spades Slick: How are they going to kill Boxcars?
Diamonds Droog: Cut and run.
Spades Slick: Cut and run?
Spades Slick: To where?
Spades Slick: Also, I thought puns were beneath you
Diamonds Droog: I was quoting you.
Diamonds Droog: Appendix B, page 718 of the second volume of your own lawbook
Spades Slick: Fuck.
Clubs Deuce: Want me to blow the road up?
Spades Slick: No.
Spades Slick: Wait, can they see Deuce?
Diamonds Droog: Isn't he inside with the fuse?
Spades Slick: Okay, Deuce, leave through the back
Spades Slick: Take a gun.
Spades Slick: And come up behind them
Clubs Deuce: OK
Diamonds Droog: That'd just lead to a standoff though
The_Sleuth has joined.
Spades Slick: And that's bad?
Diamonds Droog: Where'd he come from?
Spades Slick: Who?
Clubs Deuce: Who are you?
The_Sleuth: My name is not important.
Clubs Deuce: How'd you call us?
The_Sleuth: I have a friend.
The_Sleuth: He has all the numbers.
Spades Slick: Clubs you never even secure the line anyway
The_Sleuth: Will you come quietly?
Spades Slick: No
Spades Slick: No we will not
Diamonds Droog: Do you know where I am?
Diamonds Droog: If you do you will know I can put a bullet between your eyes from 500 yards
The_Sleuth: That could be...awkward
Spades Slick: Yes, and do you know that we have 200 hundred other gang members stashed up in the building next to you
Spades Slick: Posed to charge
The_Sleuth: Don't make me laugh
The_Sleuth: We had them on our side all along
Spades Slick: Never was a comedian
Spades Slick: And that was a bluff
Clubs Deuce: HOLD IT
Clubs Deuce: I'VE GOT A HAND FULL OF PISTOL, A HAT FULL OF BOMB
Diamonds Droog: And a head full of empty.
Spades Slick: FIRE
Spades Slick: EVERYONE FIRE
Clubs Deuce: Wait
Spades Slick: NO WAITING
Clubs Deuce: Droog, how are you supposed to turn off the safety again?
Spades Slick: OH GOD DAMN IT
The_Sleuth: You do realize that C4 is a stable explosive
Diamonds Droog: OH SHUT UP
Spades Slick: Droog! Shoot the thrower
Diamonds Droog: Shot it right out of his hands.
Clubs Deuce: Oh, there we go
Spades Slick: Alright, do we have the upper hand now?
The_Sleuth: If you want to see your friend alive, no.
Spades Slick: Droog! Shoot Boxcars
Diamonds Droog: Nice shooting, Deuce
Diamonds Droog: He managed to shoot the middle of the rope
Clubs Deuce: I was aiming for Boxcars like Slick said
Spades Slick: I- what?
Spades Slick: Oh nevermind, shoot the cops
Diamonds Droog: Disarmed.
Spades Slick: Upper hand yet?
The_Sleuth: OK, maybe
The_Sleuth: But this isn't the last you've seen of us
Spades Slick: I'm going to go slit their throats
Spades Slick: You'd best run
The_Sleuth: 'm going to skedaddle
The_Sleuth has left.
Diamonds Droog: They're running
Spades Slick: Deuce, you got Boxcars?
Clubs Deuce: Yeah
Spades Slick: Alright
Spades Slick: Get back to the casino
Spades Slick: We're done with that
Spades Slick: So the "invincible" sleuths aren't so invincible
Clubs Deuce: Do I still blow up the street?
Spades Slick: NO NO CLEAN THAT UP ACTUALLY
Clubs Deuce: You never let me have any fun
Spades Slick: Don't want to set a spark and end up charred rib cages on the street
Spades Slick: Besides Deuce, we're hitting the Felt soon, you'll have plenty of opportunity there
Diamonds Droog: You know, it's kind of impractical to have a street full of black powder as a defense mechanism
Spades Slick: It didn't do us any good either
Spades Slick: But its intimidating
Diamonds Droog: Yeah
Diamonds Droog: Like they had a flamethrower
Spades Slick: Where is the flamethrower?
Spades Slick: All I see is a can
Spades Slick: Oh right
Diamonds Droog: I shot it out of their hands
Spades Slick: Yeah but it has the same problem we have with the cards
Spades Slick: It's a can right now
Diamonds Droog: See the can?
Diamonds Droog: Now it's got a hole through it.
Diamonds Droog: Now that's precision shooting.
Spades Slick: Oh well then this is useless
Diamonds Droog: Oh wait, was that a tracer round?
Spades Slick: FUCK FUCK FUCK MY HAT IS ON FIRE
Spades Slick: GOD DAMNIT THAT WAS STUPIF
Spades Slick: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Diamonds Droog: So, uh...
Diamonds Droog: Are you OK?
Spades Slick: Okay, now I don't even have a hat
Diamonds Droog: That's...too bad.
Diamonds Droog: I have several spares.
Spades Slick: I'll just stop by the Haberdashery in the morning
Diamonds Droog: Do you have to pay your own sales tax whenever you buy something?
Spades Slick: Yeah
Spades Slick: I got kicked out of office, remember?
Diamonds Droog: I remember
Spades Slick: It's not like a retain the ability to be above the law
Diamonds Droog: Funniest thing to happen all year
Spades Slick: It was a fine link to have, but it was superfluous.
Spades Slick: We don't need mayoral power
Spades Slick: Mayoral power is nothing
Clubs Deuce: OK, Boxcars's back
Clubs Deuce: I got him outfitted with a spare radio
Spades Slick: Good.
Spades Slick: He'll probably get on in a minute.
Spades Slick: But really, these sleuths are a problem.
Spades Slick: I don't know how we're going to get at the Felt with them on our back
Hearts Boxcars has joined.
Hearts Boxcars: Right, I'm back
Spades Slick: Then everyone is here again.
Diamonds Droog: Finally.
Diamonds Droog: Honestly, how did we fall for this?
Spades Slick: Lets see:
Spades Slick: I decided, on a whim, that Hearts should go barge in.
Spades Slick: ON A WHIM
Diamonds Droog: While Deuce and I were gone, yes.
Spades Slick: I don't know, but these sleuths may have gimmicks
Diamonds Droog: Wait, Deuce being gone too doesn't help my case
Diamonds Droog: How's the leg, Boxcars?
Hearts Boxcars: Worse
Diamonds Droog: I see
Hearts Boxcars: Probably from being burned several times in addition to it being broke.
Diamonds Droog: I had nothing to do with that.
Hearts Boxcars: No, no you did not.
Clubs Deuce: I didn't either, right?
Hearts Boxcars: That doesn't change the fact that it FUCKING HURTS
Spades Slick: I can imagine
Hearts Boxcars: I'd rather have been stabbed in the EYE
Diamonds Droog: Er, do you want me to sign your cast?
Hearts Boxcars: Cast, what cast?
Hearts Boxcars: Slick said I didn't need a cast
Diamonds Droog: For your...broken...leg
Spades Slick: Casts are for the weak, he's obviously fine
Hearts Boxcars: Fuck that.
Hearts Boxcars: I'd love a cast right now
Spades Slick: I don't think a cast detracts from the pain
Diamonds Droog: I'm wondering how you managed to walk with a broken leg
Hearts Boxcars: Crutch
Diamonds Droog: Ouch.
Hearts Boxcars: And determination
Diamonds Droog: Or stupidity.
Clubs Deuce: Did your hat survive?
Hearts Boxcars: Yes, My hat is with me.
Spades Slick: I'm the only one without a hat
Spades Slick: That's great
Diamonds Droog: What did I tell you guys
Diamonds Droog: Always have spares of everything
Hearts Boxcars: I keep a spare hat
Hearts Boxcars: Spare coat seems superfluous though
Diamonds Droog: You didn't a few minutes ago
Diamonds Droog: Er, a few minutes ago last week
Hearts Boxcars: I fixed that
Diamonds Droog: I see
Clubs Deuce: I want a spare hat
Spades Slick: I may as well buy two hats.
Spades Slick: I'm going to go ahead and get some of the money in the vaul-No actually, I'm going to bully the Haberdasher.
Clubs Deuce: That guy scares me
Spades Slick: The haberdasher?
Spades Slick: He's a 60 year old balding man!
Spades Slick: How could he possible scare you?
Clubs Deuce: He just does
Spades Slick: Eh
Clubs Deuce: He looks evil
Spades Slick: Eh
Spades Slick: Who doesn't in this city?
Diamonds Droog: True.
Hearts Boxcars: Aah, I need to go rest this leg, is it okay that I leave for the hideout?
Spades Slick: No, we could be expecting an attack from either the Felt or even the Sleuths
Spades Slick: Droog is getting along fine with a broken arm
Diamonds Droog: I have a splint on
Spades Slick: See?
Spades Slick: Go rest your leg on a post or a table
Clubs Deuce: Er,
Clubs Deuce: Actually
Clubs Deuce: I kinda booby-trapped a lot of those
Spades Slick: Why would you even do that?
Spades Slick: Did you expect them to come in the casino?
Clubs Deuce: You said it was an emergency
Spades Slick: It was an emergency outside the casino
Clubs Deuce: Oh
Spades Slick: This place opens in about thirty minutes
Spades Slick: Go take those traps down
Diamonds Droog: Actually...
Diamonds Droog: Maybe you could invite some of our rival gangs over
Diamonds Droog: For an afternoon tea
Spades Slick: No one would believe that.
Spades Slick: Actually, we should just go take the Fish down when everyone's wounds heal
Spades Slick: They annoy me with their constant existence.
Clubs Deuce: Maybe we could take one of them hostage inside the casino
Spades Slick: It's only 200
Clubs Deuce: And lure them in when it's booby trapped
Spades Slick: They care the least about the individual member as it is possible without considering them a piece of shit.
Spades Slick: Well duck, just pack it in guys, we've got more operations to plan and conduct.
Diamonds Droog: Let's hope we don't break any limbs our next heist
Spades Slick: Likely, possible, doable
Spades Slick: Breaking Communication

Diamonds Droog: And there he goes.
Diamonds Droog: The greatest criminal mastermind of our time.
Clubs Deuce: Yeah.
Diamonds Droog: The world will remember the name of Spades Slick.
Hearts Boxcars: Yeah.
Diamonds Droog: And his girlfriend.

Spades Slick: I HEARD THAT!

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I didn't expect the Troll logs and Because It's Midnight to be so popular. Thanks, guys.

[AAAAAAAAAA42]

so SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF ARE going to get some ananchos AND GEROMY ATTAKS THEM and the [stk]ibg man[/strk] the big man ATAAKCS GEROMY

thrilling conclusion in the year 2999

[Mr.Diskette]

so SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF ARE going to get some ananchos AND GEROMY ATTAKS THEM and the [stk]ibg man[/strk] the big man ATAAKCS GEROMY

thrilling conclusion in the year 2999

Goddammit A42, I can't wait that long.I need to know what happens to Geromy by the seventeenth of THIS MONTH or I'll probably DIE!

[sarasvati]

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And that story. Was. FANTASTIC. Oh my god. One of the best things in this thread. I don't mind that it was shippy at all; there's nothing wrong with that. I tend to the Dave/Rose myself, but I'm not sure there's a possible pairing in the series I dislike-- which probably means I've been in fandom far too long. And even if I did have a strong preference, that was too beautifully written for me to care. I mean, the voices are absolutely, unfailingly perfect, and it's so lyrical, described in such beautiful and elegant detail, and I--I-- :sorrow: I'm just-- going to reread this for a few days and hope maybe I learn something. I. <3

Sarasvati, I've finally figured out who your writing style reminds me of: Ray Bradbury. This is a very, very good thing. (Also, I dig your username. Goddess of creativity, yeah? Just keep doing what you're doing and you'll live up to it just fine.)

Thank you, both of you! This is the first time in years that I've actually posted anything in public, so I have this big, dumb grin on my face.

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Spades Slick: FUCK FUCK FUCK MY HAT IS ON FIRE
Spades Slick: GOD DAMNIT THAT WAS STUPIF
Spades Slick: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I DIED FOREVER. So, so good.

And the conclusion to my story which still does not have a name (thanks I-gor!):

Which Yet Survive

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eight.

Breathing in the minutes becomes agony right around hour thirty-two.

His voice is slipping from him, strained and cracked and barely a flutter of paper in the wind when he calls for her, but it doesn't stop him; he yells it again and again and again until his gums and his tongue dry and he tastes the tang of copper when he closes his mouth. He licks his chapped lips, waits for the sting to fade, fills his lungs with fire, and calls for her until the feeling of burning from the inside out is too much to take.

Then he repeats it all da capo twelve more times.

He has to fight with himself to take a break. Weak on his legs, he pulls himself shaking into the backseat of a half-gutted sedan, limbs tingling, muscles taut and twitching, head swimming in a deep, throbbing ache. Water, he remembers; he hasn't been drinking enough, too much running and shouting and not enough taking care of priorities. (Or maybe too much of that, too.) He drinks half the bottle without pause and it drags down his throat like sandpaper, bucking nausea in his empty stomach. He pinches the bridge of his nose until it passes.

Thirty-six hours and he collects himself, climbs out of the car, fills his lungs with fire, and calls for her until all the sagging buildings in the city know her name.

nine.

He sees a leaning basilica, still regal even as it sinks into a crumbling decay, thinks to look for Jade inside because it's old and sad and pretty and he knows she finds an inexplicable comfort in those things. He takes ginger steps around colored sprays of stained glass scattered on the floor, looks for footsteps in the thick coating of dust, searches up and up and up a tower until the stairs end in a dead drop three stories below. After an hour, he stops, decides it's time to nurse his headache, and settles against the cool stone wall of an alcove. He closes his eyes, counts the seconds and minutes because it's natural to him now, feels the spin of the planet as it ticks on through an artificial cycle as easy as breathing, and in this moment he hates and loves the game for giving him something to hold onto.

After eleven minutes and nineteen seconds, he hears the groaning of tall, ancient doors open, then footsteps muted by dust, and he's already up and running.

“Jade?” he yells; the vibration of his own voice makes his head hurt and he doesn't care, shouting it every time he winds around a corner. He sees her there at the entrance, standing in the sunlight, bright and grinning and caked with dirt and grime and he's never been happier in his life. She throws herself into him and squeezes, exaggerating every bruise and cut he's accumulated in the last two days, and his only protest is letting out a long, shaky breath as he pulls her in closer.

“I missed you so much,” she says into his shoulder and he doesn't respond, only pries her away with his hands on her upper arms, looking her up and down, checking for injuries. She laughs, murmurs that she's fine, he shouldn't worry, and he shakes his head.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, weaving their fingers together; he feels the corners of his mouth twitch into a grin, and he lets them, feels like he deserves a celebration at this point.

“Just, you know, killing time, waiting for Egbert and Lalonde to stop making out with each other and get their slow asses through the gate.” He spins her around to face him and she takes the movement gracefully, like a dancer, glass clinking under her feet like music. “Seriously, what do you think? You're like an hour and a half late to the party. I've been looking for you. What are you doing here?”

She lets go of his hand and walks down an aisle between scattered pews, looking up at the empty windows rimmed with jagged color. “I came because I thought it was pretty.”

He shoulders up beside her, looking where her eyes are looking, trying, if only briefly, to see the world like she does. “Don't you think that's fucked up, Jade? This isn't a museum or some shit where you just stroll from exhibit to exhibit and touch everything and get kicked out. Everyone's dead. It's not a game.”

He pauses.

“It is a game. But it's not.”

She runs her fingers through the dust along the tilted lectern and smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. He regrets saying it. “Is it really that bad? I just thought...Well, everything got left behind. You see how everyone died, and that's sad, it really is. It's the saddest thing. But then you see how everyone lived, too, and that's what makes it beautiful.”

He considers her words for a moment, and then he makes a decision.

With a hand on her waist, a hand curling into her hair, fingers splayed, he pulls her in and kisses her, and everything in the world is right.

And then everything in the world turns wrong.

He notices the taste first, sharp in the back of his teeth, a tang of copper and metal and electricity and he pushes her away like he's been bitten, steps back and looks at her, looks at her, sees her glazed eyes, sees shadows boil and quiver and fan out into wings; he steps back, limbs locked, frozen and hesitating and by the time he pulls out his sword, she's surrounded, consumed, reaching out for him.

He feels it before he knows it's there, claws at his back tearing wet, fatty gashes through his jacket, the shrieking pain—it's not the pain that's shrieking, it's him, it's her, it's him, it's her, it's her, it's her

He snaps awake, chokes in a bitter breath as his stomach knots, his jaw throbs, his throat constricts, and he scrambles to his knees, dry-heaving at the feet of a statue over and over until he feels like his ribs are shattering. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve, head clear enough now to hear a distant rhythm; he thinks it's the sound of her shoes as she's running, running towards him or running from a grinning shadow, a pounding, steady cadence on fractured concrete. He cringes when the realization dawns that his veneer of composure is blistering in the sun, that he's pushed himself too hard, that it's only his own heartbeat.

He rubs his face with the last of his water, presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, snakes his fingers up into his hair and tugs, hard.

Four hours later, hour fifty-seven, after heading back into the city proper and long since giving the basilica wide berth, his teeth still buzz with the tang of copper and metal and electricity.

ten.

|PESTERLOG|
-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] –

TT: Dave.
TT: I need to talk to you.
TT: Urgently.
TT: If you would, at your earliest convenience, kindly crawl out of whatever yawning existential fissure you seem to have tumbled into ass over teakettle, it would be incredibly helpful.
TT: I have a rather distressed companion on my hands who seems to think both you and Jade are dead, and I am close to exhausting my admittedly limited repertoire of mollification techniques short of rendering him unconscious.
TT: It's honestly all I can do to keep John on the ground. You know how he is.
-- turntechGodhead [TG] is now an idle chum! --
TT: Where the hell are you?
TT: Answer us.
TT: Please.

eleven.

When the flashing in the corner of his glasses becomes a little too much like psychological warfare for him to handle, he pulls them off, folds them, and slips them neatly into the breast pocket of his suit.

The city gleams in the harsh afternoon sunlight; his eyes, too attuned for too long to the conveniences of dark lenses, have trouble adjusting, and he spends the next twenty minutes stumbling through the streets half-blind, squinting against a watery haze and blinking through spots in his vision.

twelve.

It's early morning, seventy-five hours, forty-two minutes, twenty-nine seconds since she fell off the grid, and there's something about time now that he just feels down in the marrow of his bones, a finality he refuses to accept even exists; he's out of supplies, out of energy, voice dead, nails dirty and bleeding and the skin on his hands raw and shredded from clawing into buildings from the rubble.

He pauses in the street when he hears the quick, roaring staccato of a gunshot. It's real this time, not a dream, not his heartbeat, and he bolts off on straining legs, following a sound that can't be captured as its vagaries fly from rooftop to rooftop and echo down the street.

He stops, breathes, nurses his side, and hears a second shot, closer this time, close enough to pinpoint it. He tears towards the library, doesn't think he's run as fast or as hard in his life; it takes him forty-two seconds to reach the doors, one to pull them open, and he yells her name at the top of his lungs, the top of his weak, strained voice, every footstep he takes inside.

The third shot scatters like thunder above him and he's running to the staircase, heart in his throat, sword in his hand; he takes the stairs three at a time, holding his balance against the wall, nails dragging red streaks like fingerpaint. He pauses at the top, looks around the mezzanine, then he hears the fourth gunshot ringing in his ears and he knows he's found her.

After seventy-five hours, forty-four minutes, and fifty-four seconds, the shadow looming over her, wings spread, teeth bared, is nothing, means nothing and comes to nothing; he jumps, finds purchase on its back, thrusts his sword into the base of its neck, and tears down until it falls, until the only things left of it are the black, oily flecks on his suit.

He's breathing deep and heavy, and so is she, and for a moment, that's the only noise in the room—until she picks up her rifle, levels it at him, and he thinks the look on his face might be of betrayal.

He flips his sword upside-down, resting the blade flat from wrist to elbow, as he holds his hands out in what he hopes is nonthreatening. “Okay, Jade, seriously. It's just me. It's Dave. Put the gun down. I know you're a little weird and crazy sometimes, but this is completely backflipping off the fucking ship overboard.”

She doesn't put the gun down.

She pulls the trigger.

He feels a warm splatter against his back, looks over his shoulder and sees a black mess dripping down a column, down the wall, and he hangs his head, feels a hysterical sort of laughter bubble up from his gut; he manages a short, curt holy shit, a manic grin, and then he moves to her, drops his sword, takes her in his arms and pulls her close and tight.

His voice is a whisper because that's all he can manage: “Never. Again. Okay? I will just fucking lose my shit if I ever have to do this for you again.”

She squirms in his grip, nuzzles into his neck, smiles against his shoulder. They stand like that, stone-still, listening to the white noise of the city, the off-kilter rhythm of their heartbeats and quiet breathing, when she finally breaks the silence: “Are you okay?”

He's done. He hasn't had water in too long, hasn't had food or sleep in longer, and there are only so many miracles adrenaline and tempered determination can perform; in the last hours, he was fighting off exhaustion of belief more than exhaustion of body, that deep and horrible feeling that ate at him until he wasn't sure what he was doing anymore.

He knows he has wounds to tend to, bruises that will spiral and blossom and stretch across his skin in a few days, cuts packed with dirt that might go to infection if he leaves them too long. Even when they fade, he's not sure how long he's going to keep dreaming of the shock of copper and metal and electricity, of the heartsick feeling that she's gone and it's his fault.

He buries his face in her hair just to make sure it's not another dream.

“No,” he breathes, finally.

thirteen.

|PESTERLOG|
-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

TT: So, what is this I've been hearing about dazzling heroics?
TG: i have no idea what youre talking about
TT: Really? Well. I suppose the grapevine can't always be unflinchingly accurate.
TT: But the words I've heard gallivanting through it have included: "sooooo coooool."
TT: Also, "the greatest."
TT: I must admit that these aren't direct quotes, but I find myself incapable of leaving certain gelatinous masses of unnecessary exclamation points unaltered.
TG: no see
TG: i know what this is
TG: this is police interrogation shit
TG: where you swagger in with your cup of coffee and your token silent partner
TG: who just stands there in the corner with his arms crossed and this perpetually constipated look on his face
TG: like he might literally shit bricks if i dont cooperate
TG: and you try to get me to give up where i stashed the loot by tricking me into thinking you already know
TG: fuck no
TG: ive seen law and order
TG: and im not nearly retarded enough to fall for this
TT: No, that's not it at all.
TG: right
TG: youre just getting all up in my business for no reason
TG: and in no way are you trying to conjure up some ridiculous goatshit profile based on what i say
TG: because you dont dream of having freuds horrific cthulhuan lovechildren or anything
TT: I'll ignore the heavy-handed sarcasm in favor of cutting right into the meat of the matter, which is, quite simply, curiosity.
TT: I find myself utterly flabbergasted by your behavior.
TT: You dipped into three full days of complete radio silence while you scoured a barren, post-apocalyptic hellscape in search of a lost comrade without any regard for personal safety.
TT: Under most circumstances, when given an opportunity for masturbatory ego-stroking, you are, shall I say, all over it.
TT: Now, with the chance to trumpet your deeds and exalt your good name to the heavens, you seem surprisingly cagey and almost humble about the entire affair.
TG: what do you even want me to say
TG: do you want me to puke my feelings everywhere like tori amos lyrics
TG: would that satisfy your monumental craving for schaudenfreude
TG: why dont i just cut open an artery and you can feed off of that
TT: Don't be ridiculous. I know you far too well to believe for a moment you'd indulge in such plebian customs as human emotion.
TT: Nor do I enjoy gorging myself on your suffering, or, for that matter, blood.
TT: I'm here as your friend, despite your bulldogged aggression towards the entire concept of mutual camaraderie.
TT: It's just heartwarming to see that you've immersed yourself so deeply in your game-given role of the White Knight.
TT: Or perhaps the game simply knew it was always inside you, caked with layer upon layer of emotional accidie, snide insolence, and irrelevant pop culture.
TG: yeah thanks for the staggering insight montel
TT: See? That is exactly what I mean.
TT: I attempt a serious conversation with you and you promptly endeavor to stonewall me into submission with your predictable defense mechanisms.
TG: seriously what relevance does this have on anything
TG: what criteria does this even satisfy in your gordian clusterfuck of devious plans
TG: yeah so i kind of flipped my shit
TG: big fucking deal
TG: excuse me for not wanting one of my friends to die
TG: again
TT: I'm simply impressed at the extreme measures you defaulted to in a moment of crisis.
TT: It seems the axiom that adversity introduces a man to himself has been proven correct.
TT: Given that Jade seems quite taken with you, I think it's sweet how you handled the situation.
TG: you think its sweet
TG: great
TG: thanks jade
TG: its awesome how you just regurgitate whatever pops up in your head
TT: I wouldn't take offense to it. She's always been very complimentary about you.
TT: Maddeningly so, even.
TT: I've gone so far as to warn her that she's too quick to oblige the demands of your leviathan ego, though she never listened.
TT: I'd say she's your biggest fan.
TG: goddamn you talk so much
TG: lets get back to whats actually important
TG: what did she tell you besides how fucking amazing i am
TT: Nothing of drastic import.
TG: see i dont buy that
TG: this is you being all coy and evasive
TT: I am never any less than completely devoted to the ideal of steadfast honesty.
TT: I am an open book.
TG: yeah sure whatever
TG: and im frank t hopkins
TT: You do bear a striking resemblance.
TG: did she tell you that i didnt sleep for more than fifteen goddamn minutes
TG: or eat anything
TG: or that i still havent gotten my fucking voice back
TG: she probably even mentioned hugging her
TG: fuck me
TG: im just going to find a revolver
TG: and for every stone cold humiliating thing jade has said about me
TG: thats how many goddamn bullets im jamming into the chamber
TG: youre good at math
TG: what are the chances that i can eat this hypothetical gun and live
TG: im putting money on zero
TT: Your impromptu session of Russian Roulette would only be a futile series of clicks, Dave.
TT: In short, one hundred percent.
TT: She hasn't told me anything.
TT: I've yet to even speak with her.
TT: Though now it seems unnecessary, given how generously you've volunteered information.
TG: sweet fucking christ
TT: And to think I accomplished it without coffee or a token partner.
TT: Don't worry, Dave.
TT: Your secret is safe with me.
TG: yeah im sure
TG: its just between you me and your journal
TG: memorialized on a laundry list the size of my bulge with all my character defects
TT: Don't flatter yourself.
TG: yeah well
TG: as much as i like getting played like a total tool
TG: ive got more important shit to do
TG: like eviscerating myself in pure unadulterated shame
TT: Remember, it's left to right.
TT: Good luck.
TG: yeah i think i got it
TT: And Dave?
TG: what
TT: I just want you to know that I admire what you did.
TT: And I am sincerely relieved that Jade is in good hands.
TG: yeah well
TG: thanks
TG: and seriously
TG: dont tell anyone
TT: You have my word.
TG: later

-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] –-

coda.

It takes two weeks before he concedes to her begging to return to the city, and he's glad she doesn't resent him for it, because it's getting harder and harder for him to deny her anything.

She takes him by the hand through the winding streets of a city left to dust, shows him things he saw yet didn't see when he walked and walked for three full days: sunbleached statues with wind-worn features, upright with pieces missing; skyscrapers jutting from the ruins, standing tall against the sunsick orange sky; tiny little resilient sprouts under the merry-go-round in the park, an art gallery with waterstained paintings on the walls, the proud colonnades on a falling monument.

They share a window ledge, sitting together with legs dangling out, and look over the city together. She turns to him, his hand in hers as she plays with the valleys of his knuckles with her thumb for reasons only she knows, and breaks the silence.

“It's so pretty, don't you think?”

He has an answer for her for once, making up for all the times before where he didn't: “Yeah. It is.”

A look of sheer delight spreads over her face and she nods, a full-teeth smile and eyelids pulled in mirth.

zero.

|PESTERLOG|
-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --

TG: your house creeps me the fuck out
TG: im sorry
TG: but however much of a gargantuan badass your grandfather was
TG: he was and still is equally creepy as all hell
GG: huh???
GG: its not creepy!!
GG: its perfectly normal
GG: you are being so ridiculous!!!!!!!!
TG: im sitting here watching your soulless robot typing
TG: specifically typing what YOURE typing
TG: in your head
TG: but cant physically type
TG: because youre asleep
TG: i dare anyone to not be creeped out by this shit playing out in front of me
TG: uncanny valley wishes it was your bedroom right now
TG: stephen king would be moved to suicide
GG: ._.
GG: what are you doing in my bedroom?
GG: there are other rooms in my house you know! <_<
GG: i told you you could go anywhere you wanted!
TG: where the hell else is there to go
GG: -___-
TG: no really
TG: i could spend the rest of the day sneezing in your greenhouse
TG: or get lost in a medieval theme restaurant storage room
TG: or yeah i could chill with your stuffed grandfather
TG: that seems like a stellar idea
TG: why do you always say the dumbest shit when youre asleep
GG: hey!!
GG: why do you always say the meanest stuff when you are awake???
TG: ask the taxidermists wet dream a couple floors down
TG: i wasnt feeling particularly ornery until i realized i had like a thousand dead glass eyes staring at me
TG: when id rather wander out into satans sandy asscrack than be in your house
TG: something is wrong on a fundamental level
TG: so seriously
TG: wake up already
GG: you know i cant wake up on command! >:O
GG: ill wake up when im good and ready mr bossy pants!!!!!!
TG: bossy pants
TG: honestly
TG: god nevermind
TG: ill talk to you when you wake up
TG: too bad you wont make even a fraction more sense then
GG: hehehehe
GG: dont be mad at me dave! <3
GG: well go out there soon!!
GG: and itll be a little sad...and scary........
GG: but kinda fun!
GG: and when we go out there we might not see each other for awhile!!
GG: you might get really worried but it will be okay, i promise
GG: and you should know that i trust you <3
TG: yeah see thats what im talking about
TG: none of that shit made any sense at all
TG: its like talking to an excitable ouija board
GG: hehehe
GG: see you when i wake up! <3<3<3
TG: good night
TG: i guess

~fin

[Varkarrus]

What? No "The Thirteenth" Update?

Curses.

[The_Second_Beast]

Sarasvati, your story is amazing. A+++.

But I read one part a little too quickly, and, uh...

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She pulls the trigger.

He feels a warm splatter against his back, looks over his shoulder and sees a black mess dripping down a column, down the wall, and he hangs his head, feels a hysterical sort of laughter bubble up from his gut

OHMYGOD DAVE BLED SHALE DAVE IS AN IMP

[nextian]

Sarasvati, have you thought about putting that up on the Archive of Our Own? I want to link it around but I know most of my friends aren't going to read a forum fic (to their ENORMOUS LOSS)

[I-gor]

I like this story. In fact, I have a potential title idea; use a quote from "Ozymandias". It's that epic.

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I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said -- "two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert ... near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lips, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,
Look on my Works ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away." --

By the way, that line from Because, It's Midnight was Disk's. He's good making lines for the awesome characters.

[zebtrestalala]

C4ndl3l1ght H4t3 D4t3s

2X Shipping Combo?

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-gallowsCalibrator [gC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [cG]
GC: H333333Y CG
GC: 1M 34G3RLY 4W41T1NG OUR C4NDL3L1GHT H4T3 D4T3
GC: YOU S41D W3 WOULD H4V3 ON3
CG: STOP TROLLING ME ABOUT THAT YOU DUMB BITCH.
CG: SERIOUSLY, IT'S A METAPHOR.
CG: IT'S GOTTEN OLD AFTER THE FIRST FIVE TIMES YOU MENTIONED IT.
GC: NUH UH YOU KNOW W3 LOV3 34CH OTH3R
GC: YOU'R3 MY L1TTL3 SW33TH34RT
CG: DON'T CALL ME THAT.
CG: SERIOUSLY, WE HAVE THE FULL SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION.
CG: LIKE, I'M FRIENDS WITH EVERY OTHER PERSON IN OUR GROUP MORE THAN YOU.
GC: 3V3N 4T, HON3Y?
CG: YEAH, EVEN AT.
CG: AND NO, HONEY IS NOT OK EITHER.
GC: 4LL R1GHT TH3N, MY SW33T L1TTL3
CG: OH GOD DAMN IT, NOT THAT.
CG: THAT ONE'S NOT OKAY EITHER I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO SAY.
CG: DON'T SAY IT.
GC: LOV3 L4RV4!
GC: H3H3H3H3H3!
-carcinoGeneticist [cG] blocked gallowsCalibrator [gC]


God damn it. Didn't that girl know that he had work to do? carcinoGeneticist couldn't help but to grind his teeth together as he blocked that stupid bitch for the sixth time that day. gallowsCalibrator had to be one of the most obnoxious creatures he had ever known. It didn't help that she kept trying to attach herself to him as if they had some sort of romantic interest going on between them.

All he wanted to do was try and save their group from their bloody demise. Who knew how much time they had left? And even if he was the Knight of Blood, he doubted he could save their group from painting this entire meteor red.

His thoughts and plans were immediately disturbed as he was wrenched back from his desk, as two hands clasped over his eyes.

"Guess whoooooo!" cried a voice.
"God dammit, gC, get off of me! I think you got me in the eye!" he shouted, throwing her hands down.
"Oh, relax, you're the Knight of Blood! You can heal from anything! Besides, some of us go without sight every day," she said with a laugh.
"What the hell do you want, then?" he growled.
"Well, first off you can refer to me by my real name outside of pesterchat. Remember? It's Libby?" she said, placing her hands on her hips as she stared at him with sightless eyes. "And you know that blocking me doesn't do you any good, right?"
"Yes, but I think it gets the point across, you maniacal bitch," he said. "Well, did you want to do anything besides cause me pain as usual?"
"Yes! I wanted to ask you on that date we've been talking about!" she exclaimed.
"No. N-O. Out of the question. I have stuff to do, Libby. Like stopping Egbert and all his friends from fucking everything up. Besides, I hate you," he replied.
"Exactly! It's a hate date! Tory even said that he would cook for us! Come on. You need to get away from your computer, it's not doing anything for your nerves," she said, adding an obnoxious whine on the end.
"Knowing you, you probably asked him to lace it with arsenic," he said, his voice dripping with contempt.
"Nah, arsenic leaves this nasty taste to it. And it makes my ears ring," she replied. "Come on, Carson, it'll be fuuunnnn!"
"All right, if you'll get off of my bulge about it, then I'll go on your stupid date, okay?" he sighed, resigned to his fate.
"I think someone else here has to worry about getting off a bulge, wouldn't you say?" she replied to him. "See you in an hour then!"

Carson didn't have a lot of fancy clothing. He assumed he should try to dress up so that Libby wouldn't get on his case about showing up in his plain clothes. He had an alternate shirt, sure, but he hadn't considered bringing a suit along with him as his house was minutes away from being destroyed. No, and he didn't feel like trying to use one of these computers to manufacture him one, as it would probably just be a suit-shaped agent or something. Theoretically he could ask Tory, Glenn, Sawyer, or any of the other guys, but he felt there was something...ironic about just showing up in a polo.

Libby, however, was decked out in a wonderful red dress, adorned in beautiful sequins that she would never see. She couldn't have possibly picked out something that beautiful on her own. Mary must have helped her or something. Yes, he was sure that Mary was just giggling to herself as she thought of them two going out on a "romantic date," especially if Tory was catering them. This could possibly be one of the worst experiences of his life.

"Carson, your shirt smells wonderful. There's a symphony of scents cascading off of it," Libby said, as she grabbed his hand and tucked her arm under his.
"Thanks," he replied.

Their fine dining establishment was a little lab station that had been swept clean and covered with a tattered cloth, adorned with a single candle and some strange plates that he hoped were self-cleaning. He didn't want to have to clean up after the blind girl.

Tory was dressed up (quite humorously) in a waitress' outfit, with a cloth over one hand, and a plate full of some sort of appetizer in the other. He had drawn a curly mustache over one hand, and had found a monocle somewhere and placed it over his eye.

"My lord, my lady," he droned. "Please take a seat, and look through the menu."
"Thank you, Tory, you're too kind," replied Libby, adding a haughty laugh that quickly turned to maniacal giggles. "Oh my, there's so many options!" she said, as she picked up a menu.

There was a very obvious them in the menu. Puppy Love Pie, Makeout Mannicotti, Stalker Steak, Sweet Kiss Salad, and Cherish Chicken were only a few of the many menu items there.

"I can't order any of this," said Carson, disgusted. "I just couldn't take myself seriously if I did."
"Oh, relaaaax, Carson, it's just a date! Have a good time, love!" she said, as she rocked back and forth in her chair, giggling.
"Is that wine that you're drinking?" he asked, noticing the dark red liquid in the glass in her hand.
"No, darling, it's blood! Of course it's wine!" she said, tossing up her hands and splashing the drink all over her dress.
"You shouldn't be drinking that. You're only thirteen," he sighed, his head in his hands.
"Oh, just enjoy yourself for once, Carson! The world's ending, we don't have time for silly little principles!" she said, thrusting the foul smelling liquid towards his face.
"TORY! I think we're ready to order!" cried Carson, desperately trying to turn as far away as he could from Libby's drunken behavior.

Tory stumbled out from what Carson could only imagine was the kitchen, smoke billowing out after him. Carson sank a little in his chair, for he knew exactly how this was going to turn out: badly.
"Yes, m'lord? What shall you and the lady be ordering tonight?" said Tory, in his best mockery of a British accent.
"I'll have the Sexy Souffle!" cried Libby, laughing to herself.
"Ill have...I'll have...the Filet M...mushy Mignon," mumbled Carson, not believing what he said. "Look, can I talk to you in private," he whispered in Tory's ear.

In the kitchen, admist the flames of what he assumed had been a cake at one point, Carson shook Tory in a fury stronger than the fire of any burning cuisine.
"WHY THE HELL DID YOU AGREE TO COOK FOR US?! YOU COULD HAVE REFUSED AND SAVED ME THIS!" shouted Carson.
"Dude, I thought you liked Libby," he responded.
"Are you fucking blind?!" he exclaimed.
"No, but your date is. Do you really trust her out there by herself?" replied Tory.
"I don't care! I hope that she ends up knocking herself unconscious or something!" Carson screamed.
"Dude, that's no way to treat a lady," Tory responded, a smirk on his face.
"If you don't help me I will tear those horns off your head, Tory," replied Carson.
"You're just jealous, cG," Tory said, pushing his finger into his chest.
"Hey, my horns are smaller because they're giving my brain some room. Now, can you just do something stupid like you usually do? Anything," Carson begged.
"Hey, man, I have to cook. I can't just do stupid things on cue," said Tory, lifting his hands to defend himself.
"Fine, forget you, then. I'll handle this myself. Adios, Toreador," growled Carson, and he stomped out of the kitchen.

Carson sat down at a table that had been soaked red with wine.
"So, how's the trolling going?" he said, trying to get a half coherent conversation out of her.
"It's just going fiiiiiine, how's your stupid little backwards strategy working out, sweeeety?" she slurred.
"It's annoying as fuck, thanks for asking," he responded.
"Oh, Carson, don't smell so put out! Don't worry, as a team we work out juuuuuuust fiiiiiine," she responded, reaching a hand out to him.
"What do you mean?"
"Look at it this way, we're opposites. I'm gC, you're cG. I'm a girl, you're a boy. I'm going forward through time, you're going backwards. I always want to have fun, and you never admit that you want to," she said. "But opposites attract, or at least that's what humans say."
"Yeah, so I've heard. Stupidest thing I've heard, personally," he responded.
"Nonsense! We compliment each other, Carson," she said. "We cover each other's blind spots. Face it, we need each other."
"I don't need you, Libby, you just get in the way," growled Carson.
"I'm thinking I'm not the only blind one here, Carson," she responded, waving a finger at his face.

Tory walked out of the kitchen, smoke following his movement, and brought them two blackened dishes. Libby began to twist hers under her fork, then picked it up and flung it at Carson's face. It splattered all over his face, dripping down into his shirt as well.
"GODDAMMIT! This was my best shirt, Libby! What the hell were you thinking?" he shouted.
"Just trying to have a little fun. Try it," she responded.
"All right, I'm going to wreck that dress of yours," he shouted, and tossed drink at her beautiful dress, coloring it purple.
"See? It's that easy," she said, casually tossing another glob at Carson, who quickly dodged it.
"Maybe. But you're not done yet!" he shouted, picking up his garnish and tossing it at her. He quickly dove behind the table as she prepared another glob.
"Oh come on, Carson, this isn't fair! You're playing with a drunk, blind girl!" she cried, as her glob hit the wall behind him.
"All's fair in love and war, darling!" he cried, throwing his black steak at her face.
"Oh, all right, you win," she conceded. As Carson sat up, she threw a glob right smack in his hair.
"Oh, you little-" he began, then burst out laughing.

The whole hall was filled with the laughter of two thirteen year old aliens. Carson and Libby were on the floor, rolling around laughing despite the imminent doom that lay before them. As their meteor hurtled toward an grisly doom, the two shared a glass of wine.

"Wait a second, this is cranberry juice!" spat out Carson, as he had a taste.
"I was never drunk, Carson, I was just having a good time," she laughed.
"Haha, all right," he chuckled, then grabbed her hand. "Same time tomorrow?"
"If we're still here," she replied, and they burst out into laughter again.

[Gabu]

Man, zeb. You just keep churning out pretty neat fics. And I learned about manicotti's existence!

[I-gor]

[zebtrestalala]

Aw, thanks Gabu! That means a lot coming from you!

And is that trophy for me, I-gor?

*proudly sets it on a dusty shelf.*

EDIT: Sarasvati, please write more. I'm sorry that I forgot to say that earlier, but that fic was fantastic. No matter what Jade ends up doing in her world, I still think that that was a a nice capturing of character, and I really liked the suspense that you built up.

[Lexxy]

Saras, that was beautifully and skillfully writ. I'm not much of a fic reader, as I'm a bit of a stickler about canon, but you presented the characters extremely well (especially in the pester chum logs). Thanks for sharing :3

[Tenebrais]

Right, so I've made a decision as to what I'll move on to once I've finished House Party. For now I've written up a first chapter (well, more of a prologue) to sort of test the waters.

I shall call it "In Which Twelve Trolls Ascend".

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For once I didn't wake up with the dawn. The call to prayer wasn't calling today – it was finally that one day of the week. I slept so well that morning, you wouldn't believe.
Looking back, I'm really glad for that.
By the time I got up the second sun was already high in the sky. But this was my day off and I could spend it asleep if I wanted to.

Still, the old man wouldn't be happy if I didn't at least try to talk to him at some point today. And if he's not happy he finds a lot of ways to make sure I'm not happy. That could wait, though. He probably wouldn't expect me up for another hour or two at least. He keeps moaning at me about that.
Still, I was pretty awake by that point. I got out of bed, grabbed a chocolate bar for my breakfast and went to see who was online.

--- You have entered #CARSONSCLUBHOUSE ---
The topic is “Will No One Play This Game With Me?” set by grimAuxiliatrix [GA] on 23/12/63
Users online: carcinoGeneticist [CG], grimAuxiliatrix [GA]
mode (+o carcinoGeneticist [CG]) by ChanServ
GA: Good Morning Carson
CG: GAIA.
GA: I See You Are As Cheerful As Ever
CG: I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW I'M ACTUALLY FEELING PRETTY GOOD THIS MORNING.
CG: I GOT TO SLEEP IN.
GA: Yes Id Noticed
GA: So Is Today The Day
CG: WHAT DAY?
GA: The Day Youve Been Talking About All Week
CG: SHIT.
CG: I FORGOT THE OLD MAN WAS DOING SOMETHING SPECIAL TODAY.
GA: Do You Mean The Priest
CG: YES.
CG: WHATEVER.
CG: HE'S PROBABLY GOING TO MOAN AT ME FOR BEING LATE.
CG: AS HE ALWAYS DOES.
CG: I'D BETTER GO SEE WHAT HE WANTS
GA: I Hope Its Something Good
CG: HA
CG: AS IF THAT EVER HAPPENS.
--- You have quit (quit: FUCKING OLD MAN) ---

Shit, I hope she's not still going to be laughing at that quit message when I get back. I should probably have thought that through better.

Well, better brace myself for whatever the old man has in store for me.

Yes, I think I can continue with this later on.

==>

[I-gor]

I don't know if I want to see more of House Party first or more of this first.

[zebtrestalala]

I agree, this looks quite promising

I would not have expected carcinoGenetecist's guardian to be a priest, though.

[I-gor]

I thought it meant that his father was doing something important with a priest. If his father was a priest, I'm pretty sure that would violate some sort of celibacy rule, unless they're Eastern Orthodox or just have really different rules. Yeah, let's go with the second one.

[Ember]

I thought it meant that his father was doing something important with a priest. If his father was a priest, I'm pretty sure that would violate some sort of celibacy rule, unless they're Eastern Orthodox or just have really different rules. Yeah, let's go with the second one.

Yeah, the second one. Troll jegus was a joke. There's no reason to think a troll religion would be anything like Christianity.

Actually, I would have thought a civilization as imaginatively dead as the one the trolls belong to wouldn't have religion at all. Or maybe they've just taken the secularization of rituals we're starting to see on our world to some bizarre extreme. Or maybe they've somehow gotten factual proof of the existence of a god or set of gods that demand(s) worship. At any rate, this should be interesting.