The Grand Clusterfuck - [ROUND 2 - Capitol International Airport]

[cyber95]

"Well I can't say I'm surprised about the result here, but I'm certainliy satisfied with it. What's next on the agenda, Errand Boy?"

The Errand Boy looked at his notes. "Social commentary on modern security, sir."

"Excellent," the Executive Producer clasped his hands together excitedly, "Let's hope nobody has any large fluid containers on them."


The contestants found themselves frozen in place, unaware of the changes surrounding them. The manor disappeared, quickly replaced by benches, snack bars, souvenir shops, and large windows with even larger airplanes beyond them. Most prevalent, however, was the security. Every few yards was another guard, armed to the teeth, and impatiently waiting for their next chance to do a strip search.

A sound came on the PA system of the airport, but the voice was unmistakably the Executive Producer's.
"Welcome to Capitol International Airport. Please be advised that most flights today will be delayed, due to the ever-constant threat of terrorist activity. If you find yourself feeling like committing any terrorist acts, please consult the nearest security officer to be detained and shot. Have a nice day!"

The contestants found themselves scattered around randomly, but unfortunately maintaining the same action they had been in when they were warped.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

The year is the future. Airport security has gone CRAZY. The growing paranoia over terrorism has ensured that all airport security is armed with no less than a fully automatic rifle, disobeying any policies will most likely result in you getting shot, and your plane is always late, assuming you can get through the 12 hour security process. Luckily, interstellar and planar contact has also been made, so your hideous nonhuman self will not likely set people off too much. Those weapons you're waving around, however...

Fun fact: I hadn't come up with round 2 by this time so I just hit "Random Article" on Wikipedia. I got an airport, and then came up with something based around that. Voila.

[MalkyTop]

Albain touched upon the floor once more, though he was back inside rather than out in the gardens or something like that. Eyes whirling about, he found that he was probably in a place not much better than where he had left. Stern-looking men everywhere. They were looking at him suspiciously, probably because he appeared out of nowhere. He blinked and their trigger fingers twitched. It was probably best to keep moving.

Oh dear oh dear oh dear. He rubbed at his teary, red eyes. What was he supposed to do now? He'd like some cake, actually. Cake is nice.

Hm, decorating a cake. Maybe he'll get to do that at some point. If he decorated one, he already knew the design he'd put on it. There would be pretty colors and spirals and an apple and hm er how about a large flag? Then he'd have to design the flag and oh dear these men with heavy armaments were scaring him.

He slid a long finger into his pocket to grab a soggy handkerchief but apparently this was seen as suspicious because all of a sudden, scary men were shouting at him and there were guns and shooting and also a man jumped on him and he was at the bottom of a dogpile but his slimy coating of...slime allowed him to squeeze out and he ran about rather erratically. The scary men chased after him and there was more shooting and shouting. His boneless arms waved about randomly as he scrabbled around a corner, almost running into more men with shouting and guns and shooting.

When he decorated a cake, he would be sure to not put scary men with shouting and guns and shooting on it.

[Dragon Fogel]

"Chief. Found something funny."
"What's that, Smithson?"
"A water bottle. Just sittin' there on the floor. I think maybe the water's some kinda liquid explosive."
"Good work, Smithson. I'll contact the bomb squad. They'll take care of it."

***

The airport's bomb squad was prepared for all sorts of situations, some of which were actually physically impossible.

In the case of liquid explosives, very few were triggered at extremely low temperatures, and so their usual approach was to run a few tests to verify that it wasn't one of the rare exceptions, and then zap the offending object with a freeze ray.

(Step One of this method had only been added in after Incident Flamingo.)

The problem with this was, somebody always had to get close enough to test the liquid, which few were keen to volunteer on. Keller had drawn the short straw this time, and so he carefully inched towards the bottle while the rest of the squad watched from behind their blast shields.

Nervous, Keller reached down towards the lid of the bottle with an eye-dropper, in order to take a sample of the "water"...

And the bottle responded by spraying him in the face.

"That's no ordinary bottle!" Harris shouted from behind the shield. "Sanxgart! Use the freeze ray!"

Sanxgart was quick on the draw, wrapping a free tentacle around the ray and pointing it towards the terrorist bottle. Unfortunately, the bottle reacted quickly and jumped up, strengthening the torrent of water blasting from it to propel Keller backwards into the ray's path.

He was frozen solid.

"Better warn the Chief. Voghorth, you check Keller out. We still don't know what that stuff is, after all."

Voghorth grumbled, got up from behind the shield, and touched his lower-right head to Keller, tasting the frozen liquid covering his colleague.

"It's water, Harris. Plain old H2O. Guess they found a way to weaponize it."

"Right. I'm radioing in. Chief? It's Harris. Yeah, that bottle? The situation's now a Code 3452-B. Yeah, that's right, 3452-B. Yes, Chief, I'm serious! You know by now that I don't kid around on duty."

[armoredSkunk]

Bubo was in another predicament. That was becoming a reoccurring thing for him today. He was only just shaking off the fog that had settled around his mind when the warm, golden sky suddenly transformed into gray. A wall of cement was not what he had in mind for an escape route when he first flew through that window, nor would he even begin to consider it. Still it was there, smugly perched in his flight path, having a nice chat with it's other three buddies that had decided to join the party on Bubo's surrounding sides.

It took all of the energy Bubo had left to swerve away from another wall makeout session. He veered up until he lost enough speed, planning to catch his breath after landing, but what was this? The bland cement structure was filled with boisterous, hustling travelers; their feet making sharp clapping sounds as they hit the tile floor. How could he land, when the ground meant being trampled underfoot?

And so he flapped loudly and exhaustedly through the airport. Unsurprisingly, the airport security was rather keen to notice such a display. In seconds, Bubo found himself restrained by a group of obese security guards, whom found themselves to be speaking with bated breath.

"Oi, Carver! What..where d'you think this bird... what's it doin' in the airport during the day?"

The second officer, the aforementioned Carver, held back his gasps for a bit in order to reply.
"Probl'y a passenger's pet. Musta gotten loose somewhere along the check-in line."

"Makes sense, seein' as how you gotta wait a bloody millenium t'get through. Owl probl'y just needed some stretchin' room."

"Stick'im in one o' them spare carriers and drop'im off at the lost n' found then. Somebody'll come by once they realize he's gone and flew the coop."

So now Bubo found himself incarcerated, being wheeled down the crowded halls to what surely would be a tragic end. On the other hand, he was finally getting that breather he wanted.

As Bubo's cart sped past the indoor thunderstorm creature before dissolving into the crowd, he decided that perhaps it wouldn't hurt to just lay low for a bit.

[Akumu]

Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows of Concourse B of Capitol International Airport, glinting off the well-polished rifles of the watchful security staff. A brief squeal announced the activation of the concourse's PA system, and a barely decipherable voice filled the air, informing the huddled masses of indeterminate delays in all incoming and outgoing flights. Their heads remained bowed and not a grumble could be heard: that kind of acting out could get a person interrogated.

With a woomph of displaced air, Te!uk appeared in the long hallway halfway between gates ten and eleven. A rapid tattoo of honks assaulted her, followed shortly by a passenger cart crashing from the side into her forward leg. The screech of metal on metal filled the air as Te!uk, disoriented from the sudden transition, lost her footing and collapsed onto the hood of the cart. The joint between the lead and second car buckled upwards, sending elderly travelers ass over teakettle, and before Te!uk could even comprehend what was happening, a clatter of boots announced the arrival of a half-dozen armed guards, weapons unslung.

"Sir, you are causing a dis" "It's ma'am." "ruption do not interrupt me!"

The guard who had spoken jabbed a stungun into Te!uk's side, producing what was by far the least pain she had suffered in the last twenty minutes. She grunted anyway to let him know he'd gotten his point across. The stungun was no problem, but those assault rifles definitely would be. If the man who had kidnapped her could be taken at his word, these men had no issues with using them. She would have to wait for the right chance to escape.

"Sir, ma'am, how did you get in this area? Let me see your papers."

Still resting against the ruined front end of the cart, Te!uk brought a manipulator up to the voxbox at her throat, producing from a small compartment a passport and handing it over to the man. He flipped through it, eyebrows knitting together. A small hand gesture, and the other guards flicked off their safeties and leveled their guns.

"What is this supposed to be?"

"You asked for my papers; those are documentation of my diplomatic immunity as Matriarch of Clan #ohhn, on official business airside."

"Ma'am, we would have been informed if a foreign dignitary were making use of Capitol, and on top of that none of this gives you permission to be in this restricted area. We're going to have to take you into custody for further questioning. Please present your wrist-analogues, and do not try to resist."

Te!uk offered up her manipulators, which were quickly bound together with a chain of plastic zip-ties. One of the guards prodded with the muzzle of his rifle, and she struggled upright. The cart, now empty as its occupants had hobbled away to safer locales, groaned in protest and settled to the floor. Further rough prodding pointed Te!uk towards the central hub of the airport. As she was led down the concourse, she listened closely to the radio chatter from the guards' walkie-talkies. It seemed many of the other kidnapees were facing similar problems, the frog-man and magic owl at least could be identified by the descriptions given. Without warning, the indoor lights went out, leaving only the illumination from the windows and small strobing red lights along the walls. The PA's ongoing drone of delay announcements cut off and was replaced with a live voice.

"Attention, all passengers and personnel. We have entered Threat Level Ultrared. Please be advised that any unauthorized movement will be met with deadly force. Please stay still and quiet until the threat can be assessed and managed. Thank you for choosing Capitol International Airport for your travel needs."

Through the announcement, the leader had been speaking into his walkie-talkie, though Te!uk couldn't make out the conversation. As the announcement finished he clipped it back onto his belt and called out, "Alright boys! This is what we've been training for. Some terrorist scum have taken over a plane taxiing out to 109E, and all hands are needed on deck. Higgins, Jones, continue escorting the suspect to the brig. The rest of you, with me!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

As the others jogged off, leaving her with Higgins and Jones, Te!uk glanced out through the windows towards the tarmac. Squinting against the glare of the sun, she could make out in the middle distance a jumbo jet wreathed in a shifting black miasma. She was sure that whatever was happening out there, it couldn't be good, but it had dramatically improved her odds of making it through the next few minutes alive.

[Nehh]

Scherzo/Minuet had been taken off-guard by Nightmare's ghostly voices, and again by the sudden transition to a different locale. Finding themselves about to crash backwards into a shack vendor, they hastily apologized and rolled under the long table of a souvenir shop instead, using his now sleeker and somehow even shinier and smooth form (reflecting current trends in music, no less) to carry him as far under the desk as possible. Almost immediately, a guard opened fire at the space where they had just been.

"A tad trigger-happy, aren't they? But their gunshots are so awfully loud... We need to fire them in tune." commented Minuet. Taking the hint, the cyborg body decided on a more risky move. Skidding out from the bench, it gets up, speeds to a sprint, winces slightly as one bullet descends into it's delicate flesh, and grabs the weapon from the guard, or at least tries to. The assault rifle is actually attached to the guard by a strap, an unforseen obstacle to their plan that means they actually end up dragging the guard along behind them. As they do so, three more guards arrive on scene.

At this point, everything could have gone very badly if it were not for the one guard, still attached to the cyborg by his weapon, using a stun gun on the robot's side.

Scherzo attempted to hold on to his control as the legs and arms of the cyborg's body spasmed, sending it skittering across the floor. A second shock sent what felt like a rod boiling-hot plasma through his brain. Temporarily disabled and with the worst headache ever felt by anyone in the airport for the last 20 minutes, he reluctantly let the other mind have the reins. Minuet relished the chance to try something it had been wanting to do for a while now. What also helped was that it had the perfect choir to do it with. It took the strange, ghastly voices that had rung through some parts of it earlier and tuned them into harmony, resulting in a mixture that was beautiful, but still bone-chilling and mind-numbing. Perfect. Tuning up, and setting the speakers to a reasonable volume for these creatures, it strode past the three panicked guards, who were trying to vacate the area as quickly as possible. The guard still attached to it by the rifle strap was in a state of absolute horror.

[WateryHell]

Meanwhile at Wing C....

Shawn was doing his usual job, checking for anything that seems even remotely suspicious. So, imagine his surprise when he spots a black humanoid creature with 4 eyes and a sweet looking fedora.

Over his handheld radio, Shawn communicates with his squad.

"Sam, get the ray gun."

"What?"

"I said GET THE FUCKING RAY GUN. NOW!"

"Y-y-y-yes sir!"

-------

TA was exploring the new enviroment when he comes across Shawn's guard station. As he came by, this was when Shawn radio'd for the ray gun.

People? They look like police..security? Wha...

Around this time is when Sam got the ray gun to Shawn. As he proceeds to aim at TA, this happens:

Why is that man pointing a gun at me? I...

TA then goes to change his power from well, nothing, to Teleportation. As Shawn fired the ray gun, TA teleported into a nearby air vent.

I..don't want to...kill...yet...

------

"Where the fuck did he go?" Shawn wondered as he looked through the hole in the wall.

"Sam, send a search party. I want that mutant detained, or killed."

"O-o-o-okay, sir!" Sam shakily replied.

[ProfessorLizzard]

In one moment, Hkalllap was trying to pacify a group of monkey in an elegant hallway. Next moment, he was warped to the Airport. He was still summoning hats, but as the monkey were no longer there, they scattered around the place. A group of guards noticed this. "I see we have a smuggler there."

They approached the confused construct.
"Sir, anything to declare?"
"Sorry, my child?"
"Listen pal, I have seen you drop a whole cargo of topis down the floor. Were you hiding these from the customs? Don't you know that the highest amount of hats you can freely carry on board is two? Skipping declaration can be punished by freezing, shocking, and punching. You are in a bad situation, pal."
"I... these hats are not mine. They are everyone's to share, and enjoy!"
"Are you claiming religious reasons?"
"I am indeed an emissary."
"Practicing religion is forbidden on this port! And how can hats be religious?"
"They keep evil spirits away!"
"How?"
The golem fell silent.
"Pal, I asked, how?"
"I.... I don't know. They... just do..."

Suddenly, the Ultrared Alarm was sounded.
"We are needed back in there. Will come back for you later, mister. Billy, freeze him."

The other guard pulled out his freeze gun, and encased Hkalllap in a block of ice. He wasn't even resisting.

[TelltaleSpleen]

Jlymb sent a large monkey fist headed towards the face of the giant mantis before him, when, all of a sudden, it disappeared! The mantis, not the fist. Well, I suppose it's all a matter of perspective, because Gigamantis would observe Jlymb, and by extension, his fist disappearing, but I digress.
The point was that Jlymb was now sending its sizeable fist towards a conveyor belt. The result of this was a bent track and a lot of luggage falling 10 feet down onto another, mostly unrelated conveyor belt.

Jlymb looked around curiously as it tried to shake the pain of punching metal out of its hand. Now with a mind and not busy fighting a large bug, it took the time to remember where it was before this battle. There was a lab of sorts, and all the nice people there who sometimes poked it with weird things but that was okay. Perhaps it had wandered off again into one of those strange rooms with the other strange creatures. There certainly were some strange creatures wherever it had ended up. The voice in the dark place said something, but Jlymb had no idea what he was saying, other than giving a name to the others in that dark place. The train of thought would have continued but it was starting to get a little bit complicated for the large chimpanzee, and something caught its attention.

Coming along the now bent conveyor belt was an animal carrier, containing an owl, whom had by now noticed the trend of falling bags where he was headed and was screaming for help and escape. The worrisome prospect of a giant monkey was outweighed by the large drop in such a restricted space at the time, and help was help, so he took his shot. "Hey you! Large ape! Help me out of this won't you! Please! I'll get you a banana somehow!"

Jlymb wasn't quite sure what to make of the owl. It didn't find it particularly out of the ordinary, but it had never seen an owl before, especially one that came with it's own room! Back home, Jlymb's room was the boring stationary kind. Intrigued by the prospect of portable rooms, the simian picked up the owl's cage. All it took was one curious poke at the carrier's barred gate for a change to be sparked. The hair on the arms of Jlymb receded, and feathers quickly grew in their place, all while the muscles seemed to recede... or at the very least get thinner. Before long, the giant chimp's arms were replaced with full on wings. Noticing its arm's ability to hold diminishing it, Jlymb quickly switched to holding Bubo with its foot.

Bubo simply stared in astonishment. How could that even happen? It didn't make any sense. These question were interrupted by the lights all going off, and more importantly, the creature holding the carrier begin to freak out. There was some sort of announcement about Threat Level Ultrared? It was hard to hear over the monkey's howling and being thrased around until Jlymb lost grip entirely, accidentally tossing him onto yet another conveyor belt. Bubo seemed to be all right, but was certainly no longer headed anywhere near lost and found. As the conveyor led the owl through a passage in the wall, the last it was of the giant flying monkey was it fly away right through a wall.

[Wojjan]

Domino was a tad luckier and wiser than most contestants: She didn't rematerialise in the midst of the crowd, or in an office, or in a hallway... Actually anywhere with people would have been awful. And after she didn't do that she also made sure not to move towards a crowd or an office or an hallway or an anywhere with people. No, after appearing in a cloakroom next to the heavy-duty bathroom doors, Domino tried to spend as much time as possible hidden from sight, but accidental villainess as she was, her refuge between coats had brushed off some of her fur on the clothing, which of course was detected by the customs as either a slim fuse or a thread of wool, both of which were prohibited since the universal implementation of Code Taupe. Her presence had indirectly caused several people hours of endless chemical tests on their jackets. And make sure to search their luggage too. Better safe than sorry.

Right now, however, Domino had little to no worries and decided to grab the nearest scarf or beret or whatever her claws could grab at and curl up on it.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Short because late. Let me try again tomorrow or something

[Disva]

A short, squarish looking form appeared in the middle of a group of x-ray searching devices. As guards approached it, it suddenly sensed the vast amounts of "tasty" surrounding it and went berserk.

"príjemných vecí vedel som bola plná starožitného nábytku, to nebol to bol maly, a písať hanlivé nadpisy!", it screeched as it promptly detonated the power module of every scanner in the nearby vicinity, causing a wave of shrapnel, radiation, and electrical fields, not stopping to notice this as it began guzzling from the power outlets, streams of energy flowing into it as it spasmed.

This of course, attracted attention, to say the least. Guards quickly described the situation to the superiors, who reported it to their superiors, and so on until they agreed that the alarm level must be raised. For safety.

"Sir, do we have anything above Ultrared?"
"I...let me check..."
"Yes, sir!"
"...how good are you at making up names, son?"

Windows across the airport dropped metal shutters, guards began aiming down their sights and looking for the cause of alarm, and civilians were kicked a few times as alarm code "Oh shit" came into effect. The guards near the blast who were still able to began firing on Vleshnept, the bullets decomposing into ionized air as they neared his growing electrical field. Cracks began to appear in the floor as the electrical fields created magnetic attractions between the metal girders of the foundations, intensifying each second.

[Demonsul]

Frederick had skipped a lot of fuss, entirely by accident. His mind was reeling, as he'd been quite badly winded when he'd been warped, and he still hadn't really taken stock of his surroundings. That human...that human he'd tried to assist, the one he thought he could ally himself with against the demons...he'd turned around and teamed up with that behemoth to deliver him a mighty blow! So nobody was on his side, it seemed... he'd have to do his best to get out of this alive.

Finally taking stock of his surroundings, the knight saw that he was in a concrete cell. A heavy metal door with a single closed viewing slit barred the only visible break in the concrete. It was quite a large room, with several benches, a bulb in the ceiling and a stungun/autogun turret (which Frederick ignored, for he did not have the slightest clue what it was) in the top left corner. The cell was empty apart from him. He hauled himself to his feet, and seeing no immediate danger sheathed his sword which he had managed to hold onto. This didn't look to good. He tried the door, and unsurprisingly found it locked. He banged on it instead.

"What?" shouted an irritable guard in surprise, stationed on the other side. This detention cell was supposed to be empty. How come there was someone in there? "Who's that? How did you get in there?"

"I swear, by His Majesty himself, if you intend to kill me tell me! I am sick of all this chaos!" shouted Frederick back through the thick steel door.

The guard went to the door, and pulled open the viewing slit to see an angry armored knight. What was this guy, a historical re-enactor or something? "How'd you get in the cell? Nobody is supposed to be in there! Who the hell are you?"

"I am Sir Frederick Longblade of Gritland, Four Hundred and Fifty Second Knight of His Majesty King Charles the Seventeenth! And you would do well to tell me who you are, and why I am stuck inside this 'cell'!" shouted Frederick, even though he no longer needed to now the viewing slit was open. The guard was suitably annoyed by this, and decided not to answer, but instead contact his superiors. He closed the viewing slit, and talked into his walkie-talkie. "Sir, I have a strange armored type guy in cell 57 and he's claiming he's some royal knight called Longblade. Why is he here? I thought this was meant to be an empty cell!"

The guard's superior didn't have time for this, not with this new alert level of Oh Shit going out. Ignoring the actual question asked, he said, "In case you haven't noticed, the alert state has been upgraded. We're going to be needing a lot of cells, and 57 is one of the ones requisitioned. Just do your job and make sure they don't get out once they get thrown in. You must have missed that guy getting dumped in there. Now don't bother me, we have a small crisis going down over here. Out."

The guard took this in, and was very irritated indeed. He'd 'missed' him getting incarcerated in there? Might as well go and say he was asleep on duty! He never slept, he was among the main body of guards who took this extremely seriously. Airport security was a matter of life and death, and they all knew it. No cell could be left unattended in case the individuals inside knew how to make a bomb out of the door or something like that.

Frederick had given up his barrage of insults against the metal door, and had gone to sit at the benches, scratching his beard. This was a rather nasty turn of events. It definitely wasn't right. He'd committed no crime, so his imprisonment was completely unfair.

He was startled when the viewing slit snapped open again and the guard said through, "Looks like you'll be getting some company soon, we've got suspects headed for the cells right now." but before he could demand anything further the guard slammed the hatch closed again and he was alone. He took off his helmet, and began to scratch at his beard, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this mess.

[Pick Yer Poison]

Five minutes before, a gargantuan airplane had zoomed out of the hangar at speeds far exceeding those used for taxiing. The wings had become razor-sharp knives that were several yards long in length, the wheels had grown spikes, the engines had spluttered and started shooting flames at anything that came within range, and the cockpit window had blacked itself out, save for a white splotch in the middle that was impossible to make out from the ground. Two of the guards had been taken by surprise and killed, one crushed between the wheels and the other incinerated by the inexplicable flamethrowers. Although it defied all logic, there appeared to be no one driving the thing, as repeated firings into the cockpit had no effect whatsoever, apart from making it angier, if such a thing was indeed possible.

Which brings us to the point where out on runway 109E, several groups of heavily-armed guards were running for their lives from a jumbo jet. Few of them actually had their guns out; after all, what good would bullets do against a 40,000 lb and apparently homicidal aircraft? And so for a few precious minutes, the jet was unstoppable, right up until the point where the guards managed to get their hands on an RPG launcher.

The bottom of the plane exploded as the rocket hit it, and suddenly instead of chasing the guards it was careening towards the building. It crashed into the side, crumpling the plane and caving in the wall it had collided with, then slowly tipped over and fell on its side, crippling the wing it landed on. A shadow form melted out of the cockpit and glided down the wall to meet a very confused knight, the side of whose prison cell had just been demolished. It reminded Nightmare of itself, long ago, in an almost-forgotten part of its mind. The knight clutched his head as a wave of terror, despair, anguish, and ruined triumph flooded into his mind from the white mask in a black cloud floating before him.

[gloomyMoron]

"Darmok" had, much like the other contestants, arrived in the new location rather inconveniently but unlike most of his fellows, save for Domino and Sir Longbeard, he arrived at a rather safe area of the airport. The reel of film found himself in the massive vaults under the airport proper which served as the terminal's "Lost-and-Found" section. Boxes were labeled and stacked shelf upon shelf and row after row like some secret Government warehouse for dangerous artifacts.

"Darmok" found himself in the 'L' Section of the Lost-and-Found, right next to the section for Laptops. Just before a red, powerful beam of energy flew from the sentient film reel, that is. "Darmok" now found himself next to a burning heap of metal, right where the laptops used to be. That would eventually have to be moved to the 'B', for burning, or 'M', for metal, section, surely.

The reel of film observed its surroundings by stretching it's consciousness out and away from its container. The area seemed large, too large for "Darmok" to fully comprehend. The vault was ridiculously large. Large to the point that people could probably form several small villages without ever being noticed. People, or rather lost kids who became adults who formed families who grouped together to form villages, had done just that, in fact. It was a member of one such village that came to investigate the cause of the noise and of the fire.

"Rai of Lowani and Jiri of Ubaya at Lungha," "Darmok" projected towards the visitor, not expecting a reply but at least extending the courtesy.

"Darmok and Jalard, on the ocean," came the unexpected reply. "Kirk, on Excalbia?"

"Shaka, when the walls fell," replied the reel, not understanding the weird dialect the human was using. "Darmok" could understand English well enough, just not enough to 'speak' it for whatever reason. The human seemed to understand that communication was at an impasse, and indicated to "Darmok" that he should follow him, presumably to his village. "Darmok" did so, and the odd pair headed off towards the S Section of the vault.

[Not The Author]

munch munch munch

“Augh! Somebody shoot that… electric… thing!”

“Can’t, sir! Electrical interference is messing with the null-temp generat-“

“I didn’t say freeze it, I said shoot it! It’s endangering the lives of the passengers and damaging security equipment!”

“Yessir! Er. Which one?”

“…Did it just split into three.”

not really

“Uh, yes sir, I think it did.”

“Aw, hell.”

munch munch munch

“Ah crap where’d it go?”

*What do you mean where’d it go? It’s a fucking robot crab whale! It’s this size of a building and has gotta weigh, like, a hundred tons! How the fuck do you lose something like that?!*

it’s invisible, suckers

“Maybe it can teleport? I dunno!”

*Ugh, whatever. Just find it, okay? We can’t have giant robot animals running amok in the terminal again!*

“…Yes, sir.”

munch munch munch

“Oh god the robot is spewing smoke.”

“Maybe it's damaged? Maybe this is a good thing!”

“I don't think it's a good thing.”

“Just shut up and freeze the damn thing!”

“I, uh, dropped my rifle a ways back…”

“Heeeeeeeeeeheeheeheeheeheeheehehehehehe!!!”

“Oh god what the hell was-”

“Just shut up and run!”

munch munch munch

***

The Charlatan liked authority figures. People who thought they were in charge were much more fun to mess with.

He’d managed to appear in the middle of a crowd, which suited him just fine. Given the crazy antics going on elsewhere, keeping a low profile seemed like a good idea this round. Granted, he could use the other contestants’ assistance, but he really only needed help from a few specific individuals…

Y’know, considering all the chaos, the crowd sure was quiet.

“Hey, uh... lady? Yeah, lady. Does this sort of thing happen often?”

The wrinkled old gecko in a floral hat he’d accosted smiled kindly at him. “First time in our nation’s wonderful transit system? Don’t worry, you get used to it eventually.”

The lizard looked around, leaning in conspiratorially. “Just between you and I? Half the time I think it’s all an act to keep us in line, convince us all these security measures are worthwhile. May I?”

She held up one of his popcorn kernels. “Ehh… sure, help yourself.”

munch munch munch
munch munch munch

“Hey, you!”

An impossibly bright light cut through the blacked-out airport, coming to rest directly on The Charlatan’s mask. “Oh, dear. I almost forgot the patrols... You’re on your own, here, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, I’m not worried. I deal with assholes all the time, and they can kill with a thought. This guy?” A heavy boot hit the floor in front of the illusionist. “This guy’s nothing.”

The Charlatan rose in one fluid motion. The guard tried to leer at him, but leering is hard when the intimidatee seems to loom overhead and has an expression suggesting he’s about to do terrible, terrible things to you.

The guard’s light flicked to the pan of kettle corn. “What’s this?”

“It’s popc-”

“It’s metal and food. Can’t have either out here without special forms. Why d’you need a mask?”

“I-”

“Not allowed to have a mask unless you have facial injury or can’t breathe our atmosphere. Extraterrestrials require standard issue mas-”

“I got all these fucking speeches already, thank you very-”

“Don’t interrupt me! Where’s your paperwork?”

“I don’t-”

“Where is your goddamn paperwork?”

“-like you.”

The Charlatan dodged past the guard, snatching a pair of handcuffs from the guard's belt in the process. The unfortunate security officer had just enough time to mutter “Hey,” and place a hand on the butt of his pistol before the cuff chain was around his neck, cutting into his flesh and cutting off his air. A short while later he was on the ground, twitching occasionally.

After a moment, the man in green remembered the crowd. They were all just sort of staring at him, in various states of boredom and apathy.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that! He’s only unconscious! He’ll be up and annoying you all in another couple of hours.”

The crowd collectively went back to sitting around doing nothing lest they break some regulation, and the Charlatan slumped back down next to the old woman. He realized she was staring at him oddly.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing… you just reminded me of my first flight.”

“If I may,” he began, retrieving the cuffs and flashlight, “what do you think the rest of the time?”

“I’m sorry?”

“When you don’t think it’s an act.”

“Ah, well, then I think we need better security.”



munch munch munch
munch munch munch

There was a rather late pop somewhere in the bottom of the pot the Charlatan held, followed by an irate little beaked-wisp-imp-hellbeast-thing. It chattered grumpily at the lone kernel perched between its eyes, carelessly tossing out more bits of popcorn with its mess of legs as it tried to extricate itself. Charlie's companion blinked at the Strylph, heard the hygiene inspectors come skittering down the hallway, and sighed.

"I know the signs don't explicitly say "no littering", but really that's just good manners, isn't it?" The Grandmaster, who had tentatively picked up Gettysburg by his fragile wings, was more preoccupied with trying to keep the Strylph's beak away from his fingers. The atemporal bastard was jabbering angrily, feet thrashing about as something depressingly devoid of a windpipe neatly skewered a piece of popcorn on its long, vicious needle of a leg and raised it to eye level. The elderly woman had surreptitiously shifted down a bench or three, and the Charlatan only saw fit to pay the guards attention after Gettysburg vanished with another pop. It had said something about some rule or another being broken. Like the Charlatan gave a-

The hygiene officer's talon made a small noise, then sprang apart into three thinner, sharper talons. The Grandmaster watched this with supreme uninterest, more intrigued by the little pop just behind his left ear.

"Ok, ok. I get your point, I do. If you don't want Mr. Janitor's ones here though, you'd best run run run to the left left left-"

pop-pop, this time from... inside his aggresor?

"norw!"

Gettysburg spat out some much-missed tendon or nerve or other organic constituent at the Charlatan. Whether it was deliberate or not was anyone's guess, but Mr. Janitor had quite clearly keeled over in considerable pain, distracting his partner as the man in green made a tactful retreat out of there. The Strylph didn't pursue, but he was pretty sure he could hear that tiny little time-burrowing noise it made as it chased after him.

Some distance later, the damn thing coiled around his shoulder like some idiot's doted-upon pet. "Why, you little time-rat, did you do that?"

"Like you said, it'd be a crime to let such a pretty little tool of destruction like me just lie undestucting!" chirped the Strylph. "Least, that's what I think you said... oh but wait! you Mr. Green just want things broken to itty bitty bits, right?" Gettysburg didn't wait for an answer. "I like worlds in itty bitty bits too! And time all scattered and skipping and scratchy every which way but you're not going to care, no because it's like you said you've got better things to do than try fix a world you broke, right right?

Aaaanyway-" here the creature's beak twisted into something almost nearing a grimace "-you said to me I saved your life! You were no help when Mr. Janitor was being all nosy, no, so I had to ask a smarter you that knew those kind of things!"

"Wait. Just shut up for a sec." prompted the Charlatan. "Just now, you asked me in the future how I got out of this mess, I said you did it, you went back and did it, so now I have to actually tell you-"

"Nonononononono. That's not right at all," Gettysburg chided. "I can't tell you... because that'd make sense! No fun, no dinner for Gettysburg."

"But what if my failure to - oh. Right. Strylphs."

Gettysburg chirped a happy little note.

[Dragon Fogel]

show spoiler

hide spoiler

There are three people who have not yet posted this round, and only nine posts left on the page. I recommend leaving room for the last three players to post, so everyone who's already posted, be careful if you post again.

"The bottle's gone, Chief! We've looked pretty much everywhere, except for..." The guard suddenly paused, realizing he'd said too much. He didn't want to search there, nobody did. But the damage had already been done.

The security chief's eyes narrowed as he turned towards Mitchells.

"Except for where?"

Mitchells gulped nervously.

"The... The Vault, sir."

"Then get a team in there and get searching! We can't let the terrorist bottle slip away underneath our noses."

Mitchells sighed. When would he learn to keep his mouth shut?

***

King Aquarius Solum the First of the Village of 'S' sighed. It had been too easy taking over.

Water was a rare and valuable commodity in the Vault. It was rarely lost, and those few who dared to venture outside into the airport for a drink were always at risk of being arrested by security.

And if there was one thing Aquarius Solum had plenty of, it was water. An unlimited supply. And all he asked in exchange was to be worshiped as supreme ruler!

But it had been boring. He'd hoped to at least have to fight somebody to take the throne, but no, there hadn't been the slightest resistance.

He wished something exciting would happen. He'd even tried declaring war on another village, but they'd surrendered immediately once they heard that 'S' had unlimited water supplies. Consolidating the villages to lead an assault on the airport itself crossed his mind, but in all likelihood, someone would die before he could get it set up.

Still, it would pass the time. He sent messengers out to speak to the other villages, and tell them of the wonder of Aquarius Solum and his endless supply of others. He told others to gather anything in the Vault that could serve as a weapon.

Meanwhile, the boy who had found "Darmok" returned to the village, having been absent for the twenty minutes in which Aquarius had begun his glorious reign.

The villager stared at the strange sculpture now in the center of the village, which was made out of various lost objects and vaguely resembled a water bottle.

"Kiteo, his eyes closed", he said to his new acquaintance with a shrug.

[Akumu]

When the metal shutters had slammed down over the windows, Te!uk saw her last chance of escape extinguished like the daylight. The red emergency lights strobing in the concourse showed a series of still-frames: Higgins and Jones pulling on high-tech goggles. Higgins moving around her front, then with Jones. A series of snapshots of wild gesticulations. It was all starting to give her a serious headache.

“What the hell is this, Jones? I was never trained for anything above Ultrared.”

“Don't look at me, man. I got the same training you did. Let's raise the LT.”

“No time for that. If shit's going to hit the fan, I'm going to be the fan.”

The next frame showed Higgins unslinging his rifle, and Te!uk knew desperate measures were undoubtedly called for. A sharp slap of her flukes sent the two soldiers tumbling into the waiting area, and she darted for the main hub. There was nowhere else to go but straight ahead, and she braced for the inevitable hail of bullets that would bring her down. Instead, she heard Jones' voice echoing down the corridor.

“Ah crap, where’d it go?”

“Maybe it can teleport? I dunno!”

“…Yes, sir.”

Somehow they had lost track of her. It made no sense, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. The fear of death drained out of her, replaced with a giddy euphoria. At the head of the concourse, she tore past the security cordon unnoticed. A triumphant subsonic whoop was cut short as Te!uk was confronted with the chaos of the main screening area. Under the pulsing red lights and leaping blue-white arcs of ionized air, bodies and mangled machinery lay strewn about in a sea of blood. Cavorting through the chaos were a handful of the creature that had first assaulted her, with the electrified arcs seeming to flow into each one. Muzzle flashes sputtered from dozens of rifles around the periphery of the massive room, but any Vleshnept struck simply split into two and continued its rampage.

Out of the carnage, a single Vleshnept rose, calling out gibberish in a layered voice. The arcing lights began to bend around it, and small pieces of metal debris were pulled up into the circulating lines. Te!uk felt a gentle yet insistent tug on her rig, pulling her in towards the exultant demon. The light and debris formed into a spinning torus as larger and larger fragments of machinery were pulled in. The chatter of gunfire was cut off and replaced with frenzied screaming as the attacking soldiers were pulled along with their guns into the maelstrom, before being threshed to pieces by the spinning metal. A splash of warm blood across her face finally shook Te!uk out of her shock, and she spun to retreat back down Concourse B. Moving down the hallway were Higgins and Jones, sweeping out every crevice in search of their missing captive. The momentary pause this caused Te!uk was just long enough to skewer her chance of escaping the main screening area. She began sliding backwards across the tiled floor, any attempted step only reducing her drag and accelerating the process.

Being pulled closer and closer, her rig's feet drew furrows through the thickening pool of blood. She felt the wind from the whirling metal and heard through the screams a growing keening from below. Pulled past the wrecked base of an X-ray screening conveyer belt, Te!uk reached out and looped her bound manipulators over a protruding strut. The keening grew louder and higher and Te!uk began to be lifted bodily from the floor, clinging for life to the wreckage. Suddenly the keening cut off with a thunderclap, and the floor beneath Vleshnept erupted upwards. A steel I-beam flew up through the floor, smashing into Vleshnept and sending him somersaulting, knocked senseless. The spinning field dissipated, dumping its cargo into the yawning hole in the airport floor. Te!uk dropped with a crash, her legs splayed. Without support, the floor's underlying concrete was crumbling under its own weight, opening a spreading chasm. Te!uk felt the ground beneath her tail drop away, and tumbled backwards into the bowels of Capitol International Airport.

[yousodumb]

Onex had materialized inside some kind of uncomfortably small container, made out of what appeared to be fine wood. He had spent quite some time struggling out of a rather awkward position into a semi-upright stance and listened intently to what was happening outside this container. Nothing. Pushing with all his might against one of the walls of his prison he managed to free himself from his rather small prison and take a look at his surroundings.

He was in a small-ish sort of coat room with the dream-cat he had met earlier scrabbling frantically up a coat. Quickly he surmised the situation, The cat had somehow found a way inside this closet and was resting on the chest he had materialized inside until he had burst from within. The Dream cat had found it's way on a shelf and was hissing at him, knowing that he would not be affected by her powers, Onex quickly raised his hand in a friendly manner and tried to say, "I am Onex, and I mean no harm." but it came out, "Ai eis Olaes, eil Ai tael bai cas." Just wonderful, Zeta had changed everything he said to some kind of extinct language that no one knew and he could tell from the Dream cat's confused look that not even a dream demon could tell what he said.

The dream cat sniffed his outstretched hand and recoiled from his scent, the scent of nothing. His old "home" reeked of the smell of nothing and all higher powers knew this smell meant nothing but trouble, for it meant the return of Zeta and the destruction of all things and the return to nothing. He couldn't help but laugh when the dream demon sneezed in the vain attempt to get the horrid stench out of her sinuses, she slunk down to the floor fluidly and said, "What exactly are you? Not many a mortal can resist... my charms. Not to mention you do not possess the smell of a mortal.." Onex wished he could tell her all about his unique plight, and the epic story behind his appearance in this fight. He tried once more to form a sentence, "I eis Onex, eil I tael bai harm." much closer this time, he exerted himself with all his might, "I eis Onex, and I tael no harm." One more time should break the stupid curse on his tongue, "I am Onex, I mean no harm." He finally said, collapsing from the stress of forcing his way past the spell of zeta.

His vision faded as he saw the dream demon sidle up to his head and he began to dream...

...
...

...
...

Darkness....


Then light, more blinding than anything anyone could see.
A twisted smile the bespoke of a chaotic mind,
A broken world, host to the forgotten story,
cryptic symbols,
Beings who do not truly exist,
And a Terrible secret, a nightmare only those who who have been touched by He of the Many Names could have.

[bobthepen]

The long-armed monkey-man appeared in the middle of the plane aisle. He wore a blood stained martial-arts suit and a look of confusion.

“Magic Orca? Monkey Friends? Where did you all go?”

His expression turned to one of terror as he examined his surroundings.

“Where…what is this? Where am I?” He started to shake, tears welling up in his eyes. Some kind of deep-childhood origin story fear began to take hold of his psyche.

“I…I can’t be here! This is dangerous! I—“

“Shut up and sit your ass down!”

I popped him one in the gut and pointed to a vacant seat nearby. He complied, quivering like a 2 year old…who just got popped in the gut. Served him right though, stupid teleporting karate men, never knowing where they’re gonna show up. He could teleport all he liked and as long as he stayed off my plane, and we’d never have a problem. But the moment he showed his whiny street-fighter face on my plane, he became my problem.

Those idiots on the ground need to straighten up. I thought to myself as I sat back down in my trusty folding chair. This is the third teleporter I’ve had to quiet down this week. I couldn’t give a crap if they cut in line, but when you’re on my plane you follow my rules.

Yeah, that sounded great. I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair, which was conveniently placed wherever the hell I want. At the moment, I had set it down next to the mother of a teary-eyed two year old who…well you know the story. I stroked my upper lip adonis, Delilah, as I contemplated my current situation and identity for your convenience.

You’re welcome.

I’m a Space-Plane Cop. It says so on the badge. We used to be called “Air Marshals” until some two-bit department store decided to install hovercraft on some of their retail outlets. It was a long, drawn out and bloody legal battle, but eventually we had to change our name. I’m glad we got rid of it though. “Air” was too vague, and you know what “marshal” means? It means “stable boy”. Don’t believe me? Go read a damn book.

“Space-Plane Cop” lets people know exactly where they are and who’s yelling at them for eating too many damn peanuts, ya fatty. If you bothered to read the rest of the badge you’d know my name was Chester Brown and I have a 100% success rate at preventing terrorism. Oh sure I’ve lost a few planes, but that was just me going above and beyond the line of duty.

At the moment, this plane was going through its normal run: circle around the airport a few hours, make sure nobody tries anything, then dock back on the landing zone and send everyone though another round of screening. It’s a long process. Some people go through days of flying/screening/test-flying/questioning. I delivered a baby once. Person was expecting a week after they arrived at the airport, by the time they got to me it was already due. Course I didn’t know that. I didn’t know it was one of those alien babies that are supposed to bust out of your chest either. Some tentacled freak was giving me guff about how she needed “special seating”. So I took old foldy and whacked her one in the ribs. “That ‘special’ enough for you?” I asked. She didn’t reply though, too much froth and blood coming out of her mouth. All of the sudden her exoskeleton or whatever cracked open like a bad egg and out pops her bundle of joy. I named him Squirmy. He got a job down in baggage claims and – The hell?

I looked down the aisle. Some bozo had gotten up and headed towards the back, even though the “FASTEN SEAT BELTS” sign was clearly on. I jumped up from my chair and caught up to him before he opened the bathroom door.

“Where are you going!?” I asked, slamming him into the wall.

“I…it’s been three hours! I just need to use the--”

“What’s your name!?”

“B—Bartleby J--”

I socked him one in the mouth.

“I didn’t ask for your life story! Sign up there says ‘fasten seatbelts’. Now you better have a seatbelt on you or you’re gonna be choking down teeth.”

Sure, I knew the line was cliché, but cliché and a fist in your face is what scares them the most. They think, “Oh crap, this guy’s gonna pummel me and the best thing he can come up with is overused sayings! I can’t reason with someone like that!” And good gracious I hate it when they try and “reason” with me. “I’m just going to the bathroom”, “That’s a writing utensil not a weapon!”, “I can’t store contraband in my abdomen!”, yeah, I know that, doesn’t mean I’m not gonna stab you in the gut with a ball-point pen.

After I took care of I.P Freely’s little problem, I went back to my folding chair and took a good long look at the rest of the chumps on the plane. I checked on Lanky McTransporter. He was curled up on his seat in the fetal position (the ‘kickable’ position, as I call it), muttering something about, “danger”, “gonna die” and “monkey friends”. I should have paid more attention to that last part, but what do I care about some pansy’s babbling? I figured it was strange though, the guy looked well built, probably could put up a good fight if he wanted to. I sat back and began amusing myself with all the ways I’d kick his ass if he tried anything.

First, I’d put his head in a head-lock, then I’d put the head-lock in a leg-lock. Then I’d pop-lock and drop his ass straight down to capitol processing. If he went for a punch, I’d counter with another punch. Probably break his hand…mine too if his punch was worth anything. That cockroach guy sitting next to him looks pretty segmented. I could probably rip one of those arms off and club him with it. Though if he grabbed the arm first—“What the!?”

Suddenly the plane shook. Had an engine blown out? I jumped out of my chair and ran to check the wings. Crybaby Fighterpants had fallen on the ground (hadn’t buckled up) so I gave him a good boot to the kidneys as I passed by. I forced open the emergency exit door and hung outside to see the damage. Gremilins on the wings. I thought, Everything’s normal here. I slammed the door shut and turned to the cockpit. A couple of lightweight species had imploded due to the decompression, and most of the others were near fainting. Geeze, hasn’t anybody heard of ‘holding your breath’? Command will be pissed if I show up with another plane full of dead passengers.

I started to head toward the pilot’s room but something writhing and bleeding caught my eye. Oh hey, it’s Bartle-whatzit enjoying that fine-point addition I made to his liver. Man, something about this guy just makes me want to…I looked down at Bartleby, then over to the door, then back at the passengers, then back at Pen-in-my-gut…

I shut the emergency door again. The oxygen bags had fallen down and people were grabbing for them. Trembly Kickable had managed to crawl back up to his seat, but he didn’t go for the O2 bag. As I passed him on my way to the cockpit I stopped and whispered in his ear. “Good call,” I said. Glancing back at the other chumps struggling to breathe, I added: “I peed in the bags.”

I continued to the cockpit, the sound of several dozen spit-takes behind me. Now you may wonder why I’d do something like that. Truth is, I’m not sure myself, guess I thought it’d be funny. Of course, should someone from command call me out on it, I’d just tell them it was “preventative measures”. That line means I can get away with my crap and don’t have to put up with yours.

I burst into the cockpit, red lights were flashing everywhere and the pilot was screaming and flailing his arms like Space-Plane Kermit (obscure future-person reference, just ignore it).

“What’s wrong with my plane?” I asked.

“Bluh-blee-bluh-bloo” he said. I didn’t really pay attention. A screen showing the cargo-hold had caught my eye. It was trashed, even more than I had left it. Crates were broken, luggage flying everywhere, and in the corner of the screen there was a…My God.

I only caught a glimpse of it at first. It had a long twisted tail and huge gleaming fangs. It was hunched over, but I could see the evil gleam in its eyes. A sickly brown fur covered most if its hideous body, except for the face. That pale ghostly visage of a face was nearly human but far more bulbous and furry. Here, let me draw a picture for you:

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Monkeys…I knew there had to be more than one to cause that kind of damage, an indeterminate number, possibly hundreds.

“Do you realize what this means!?” I shouted at the feeble-minded pilot. “They could be anywhere on the plane right now!” I ran back towards the passenger cabin. The survivors had stabilized as the plane repressurized. If the situation was as bad as I had thought, however, they would soon realize they were the unlucky ones.

“We have a situation here!” Crowd control was most important. I started by slugging the passenger closest to me. That got their attention. “This plane is under terrorist attack! Some one must have snuck a crate full of vicious creatures in order ensure the assassination of someone here – Probably me. But don’t worry. If you all do exactly as I say, I’ll get out of this alive.”

“What kind of creatures?” some nobody in the crowd asked.

“Monkeys! Possibly hundreds of highly venomous monkeys have infiltrated this plane and are crawling through the ventilation system as we speak.”

“Monkey-friends! No! They can’t be here! It’s too dangerous!”

“I know! But I’ll find a way to get them off my plane before they do any irreparable damage!”

“ATTENTION PASSENGERS” The automated voice boomed out of the plane’s loudspeakers. “YOUR PLANE HAS SUFFERED IRREPARABLE DAMAGE, MOST LIKELY DUE TO TERRORISM. IN ACCORDANCE WITH PROTOCOL #X5421, YOUR PLANE WILL BE SHOT DOWN. PLEASE ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR FLGHT AND THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING CAPITOL INTERNATIONAL.”

“Damn it!” I braced for the impact…but nothing came…What? Why haven’t they shot us down? Has something shut down the defense system? I didn’t know what had happened, but it didn’t change the fact we were going to crash. The monkeys had already made their way into the guidance system and were destabilizing our flight path.

The plane shook violently. Passengers screamed and soiled themselves. As the turbulence increased I realized there was only one thing left to do.

“I am tired of these monkeys on my plane! I’ll get them out or my name isn’t Chester Brown!” I turned to a passenger holding a camera and stared directly at the lens. “And my name will ALWAYS be Chester Brown and nothing will EVER change that!”

I ran once more to the cockpit. The pilot had already committed suicide, according to protocol. I shoved his green lifeless body out of the way, and took the helm. The door swung open behind me and Warp-around baggy-pants took the seat next to me.

“What are you doing here?”

“I want to help you save the monkeys!”

“Save the WHAT NOW?”

At that a small fur-covered head peeked out of the lanky-dork’s shirt.

“It’s okay Buddy Holly,” he said to the furry flea beast, “We’re going to get out of this alive!”

“You brought those things here!?”

In my rage I lunged towards the terrorist, completely forgetting about the plane’s controls. Before I could even throw a solid punch…we crashed.

------------------------------

The mustached-ex-space-plane-cop climbed his way out of the rubble. His badge was lost, his clothes were singed, and his head was bleeding. He tried to make sense of his surroundings, but nothing was familiar. As he stood up, he was greeted by a teary-eyed LeAnn Rimes.

“You made it out.” LeAnn said, “that’s good. Turns out the only monkey-friends on the plane were Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and Jiles Richardson Jr….they…they didn’t make it." LeAnn wiped his tears away and looked at the man who had tried to save them.

“Thank you…what is your name?” LeAnn asked.

The ex-space-plane-cop stared back blankly at the monkey-man. “I…I don’t know. I can’t remember anything! Where am I? What am I?”

LeAnn nodded, understanding the man’s plight. “It’s alright,” he said, placing both hands on the amnesiac’s beefy shoulders. “You’re a monkey. Just like me. I don’t know your name, but you can be called…” he reached into his suit and shuffled around a bit, finally pulling out a square slip of paper.

“Lady Antebellum,” he said, handing the man the cd-cover.

“Lady…Antebellum…” the man said slowly. “Yeah…yeah that sounds right.”

“Hey,” Lady Antebellum added, “looks like some of those guards are unconscious. Want to go beat them up?”

And they did.

They did.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

TOO SOON.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

I just realized I didn't actually kill Bartleby, just pushed him out of a plane. Somebody needs to fix this.

[bobthepen]

show spoiler

hide spoiler

"NO!"

*Slaps Wojjan*

"IT'S MONKEY TIME NOT KITTY TIME!"

RESERVED. (for like way later)

*WHAM*

As the metal folding chair struck the unconscious guard's plated chest, a thought bubbled its way up LeAnn Rime's fizzy awareness.

*WHAM*

He had forgotten something important, something more important than watching Lady Antebellum gleefully smack around defenseless security workers, something big, and possibly very moist.

*WH--"aah?" LeAnn stopped Lady's playful assault mid-blow.

"We can't waste our time with this!" LeAnn cried, out. "We have to go find my orca friend!"

"Orca?" Lady tilted his head, curious.

LeAnn nodded. "It's a giant black and white and metal whale person who looks lazy but its just because it's big and it has a huge tail and probably hates seals and-"

"I know what an orca is dumbass! My father was an orca!"

LeAnn gasped. He hadn't known! Oh gosh that probably sounded really monkey-racist (which is a problem almost every monkey struggles with). Boy, Lady is probably super offended right now and wait...

"...How do you remember that?"

"Remember what?" Lady glanced around nervously.

"That your father was an orca? You got monkey-amnesia!"

Lady's eyes widened.

"My father was an orca!?" The folding chair dropped to the ground as Lady started pacing. "That explains everything! My affinity for water, my warm-blooded-ness, this dorsal fin on my back."

Lady pointed proudly to the smooth black protrusion jutting out behind his thorax.

"Do you think," Lady continued, "that your orca friend may be my DAD?"

LeAnn shrugged a bit, as did several monkeys behind him. "I guess we could ask?"

"WELL LETS GO DO IT!"

Lady grabbed hold of LeAnn's arm and dragged him towards Containment room P, seeing how if an orca was captured that's where they'd be taken to ---er I mean because that smells right? He has a good sense of smell. That's it.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

wow I realized I only wrote this with a single joke in mind and didn't know what to do with it afterward. I challenge everyone to center all of their remaining posts around a single joke. Also keep it under 300 words because why not right?