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A Hellfish flys again! ( a Simpsons X DVV CK2 Quest)

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Dealin' With The Duke (non canon unfortunately)
  • Sidestory
    • Dealin' With The Duke​

    The first days of the event that would later be called the Great Midwestern Dust Bowl were, in a word, chaotic. Nobody knew what in the world was going on, or at least if anyone did they weren't exactly announcing it on the nightly news, and that led to no small amount of panic as people tried to make sense of a world that really seemed to be on the verge of collapse.

    In some ways, Herb Powell was one of the lucky ones in those early days. Yes the bulk of his company was centered in Michigan, and therefore smack dab in the middle of the worst of the rising (and potentially even expanding, horrible as that was to contemplate) climate disaster, but he himself had been in Pennsylvania for an investor's meeting, and it wasn't as though he had anyone he was particularly close to in the area any more; he was still living the swinging bachelor lifestyle and his adoptive family was still back in Shelbyville, far from the dust storm unless things went particularly pear shaped.

    Even so, Herb still had some affection for the city he'd lived in for so long and made his big break in, and so when the news hit he had quickly closed the deal with his new investors and headed back to the edge of the storm, willing to do whatever he could to help the less fortunate get back on their feet. The fact that, had his luck not turned for the better recently, he could have been just like any one of them was not lost on him, and so he had contributed to a few efforts to help people who'd left everything behind in their escape from the disaster.

    Of course, such good luck had to end someday, and it seemed like it was happening much sooner than Herb would have liked. How was he supposed to know that a seemingly new biker gang had started harassing people around one of his factories, making just getting to it a hassle. Let alone that said gang had decided to cut out the middleman and start stealing vehicles straight off the line! All that was bad enough, but Herb had also chosen that day to directly supervise the dismantling, both for public relations reasons and to ensure that everything was being done according to his high standards.

    Well, Herb thought to himself, on his knees alongside several of his workers as one leather-clad biker pointed a gun in their direction to keep them all in line while others searched the area for anything with even a hint of value, normally his luck was pretty swingy, but this had to be the biggest turn for the worst that he'd experienced in his life. Nobody had been fired on yet, the only shots being warning ones sent into the ceiling, but he wasn't optimistic about the odds of that continuing, not with how twitchy the guy with the gun seemed to be. With nothing to do but think, the middle-aged man could only reflect on all the things that had brought him to this point. And of course whenever that kind of thinking went through his head, who else could come up but the Simpson family.

    It had been a good amount of time since he'd spoken with anyone on that side of his family, their rocky relationship meaning that wasn't exactly abnormal for them. Still, Herb couldn't help but wish that he had a chance to make things right with them, or even do it all again, but do it right.

    Mostly because of the "Homer" of course, but also because deep down he missed the warmth that came from being able to call someone your family. His adoptive family had been great in a lot of ways, and he had never been anything but grateful to them for taking him in, but sometimes it felt like they liked his money more than they liked him. They certainly hadn't offered him a hand up after his first company went bust like the Simpsons had.

    Any further thoughts of his blood family were cut off by the roar of a motorbike, the sound growing louder with every passing second. And judging by the grins that were appearing on the faces of the assorted goons, Herb didn't think it could be anything good for them.

    The angry sound of the bike abruptly cut off, and a moment later the door to the factory slammed open to reveal that a tall man in red riding leathers and sunglasses had chosen to kick the door in rather than open it like a normal person. To Herb's eye he looked more like a roadie for a rock band than a member of a motorcycle gang, especially with that mullet and the wide, almost manic, grin on his face, but judging by the way all the gangers in there straightened their backs at his arrival this wasn't just some random peon.

    "Well well well, what in the wide world of sports do we have here?" The man began, practically crooning out the words as he strode onto the main floor, "Looks like some rats sneaking around The Duke's territory, taking what belongs to me!"

    Scowling, one of Herb's workers tried to get to his feet, catching the attention of all the bikers. "We work here you lunatic! Who the hell are you?" Before he could get any further, or any of his buddies could drag him back, the apparent leader of the gang gave him an almost bored look. In a flash that Herb only barely caught there was a cane in his hand, and a moment later there was a sound like a fork being stuck in an electric socket as the speaker collapsed in a heap.

    "Rude," the biker began, twirling the cane for a moment like some kind of performer, "I the hell am the Duke of Detroit, and from now on I better hear the lot of you put some damn respect on that name! You dig?" There were some murmurs of agreement from the rest of the workers, not wanting to end up like the still twitching and groaning man who had spoken up. "That's good, glad to have you all in the same lane." The Duke then turned to his men, scowling at where they'd stopped working to watch the show. "And what are you all doing, making flower crowns? Get back to work! I want this place stripped down for everything it's got by sundown!"

    There was a flurry of activity after that, as the Duke's subordinates did their best to get their job done, all under their boss' watchful eye. The next interruption came when one of the gang came out of the office area like a bat out of hell, and suddenly Herb had a sinking feeling in his gut.

    "Sir!" The man called out, getting the attention of most everyone there, "Found a safe hidden away in one of the offices, looks like a good one too, a keypad and everything!"

    Herb did his best not to look too dismayed; he'd been hoping that said safe would go unnoticed, but it seemed it wasn't to be. There was some cash in it that'd probably make these guys really happy, but also a few blueprints for some projects he'd been working on; stronger engines, better frame designs, all things that could put Powell Motors back on top again, at least for a little while.

    Hearing that made the Duke's grin widen, and he looked at his hostages while making a tsking sound. "Holding out on The Duke are you? Now ain't that a cryin' shame? I thought we were buddies over here!" He sauntered over to Herb's group, looking like a lion Herb had seen at the zoo once in that moment. "Tell you what though, I'm still in a pretty damn good mood now; which one of you is in charge here?"

    All of Herb's workers sat in silence for a moment, aware that not speaking up probably wouldn't end well for any of them, but ratting out their boss wasn't ideal either. Finally, before the Duke could try a more forceful kind of questioning, Herb let out a defeated sigh. "Right here, I'm the one you want."

    "Glad to hear it!" And in just two steps the Duke was right in front of Herb, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up to his feet. "Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way…Hang on," the Duke squinted as he looked at his captive, "You look familiar…" Herb could feel the sweat forming on his brow as the Duke stared him down, before the blonde snapped his fingers. "I know who you are!" He declared, a grin forming on his face, "You're Herb Powell! You own this place don't you? Well, I should say you owned this place." Herb forced himself to nod, wondering just how this guy recognized him. Usually when people recognized him it ended with them laughing at his poor luck, and he didn't know if he could take that right now.

    Fortunately for Herb and his workers, the Duke let out a pleased laugh as he set the man back down on his feet. "Well why didn't you say so man? As something of a car aficionado, I am a fan of your work!" The Duke clapped Herb on the back in what probably would have been more friendly if it hadn't nearly knocked him to his knees. To the shock of all present, the Duke then began to sing the old Powell Motors jingle. "Whether you are going near or far, Powell makes a pow-pow-powerful car!" He finished by chuckling a bit, "Classic. Come on then, let's you and me have a little chat, motorhead to motorhead."

    More shocked than angry at the situation now, Herb could only follow behind the Duke as they made their way up to his office. "Gotta say, it was a real shame when I heard that you'd gone under that first time," his captor commented as they walked, for some reason making what Herb could only call idle chit-chat, "I really thought your designs were going places.

    "Yeah, well," Herb began with a slight grimace as he recalled the circumstances of his first bankruptcy, "After that major screw-up we weren't exactly rolling in cash."

    "You mean the Homer?" The Duke asked, and it took everything Herb had to not flinch at the name, "Man, screw all those haters, I fucking love that car!" With a swing in his step the Duke strode into Herb's office, the owner of said room barely able to formulate a response as he followed. "Three horns? A modern classic! And those giant cup-holders were ahead of the times, it seems like everything's got those these days."

    Herb could only look at the Duke with a truly shocked expression, as though the man had just declared that he was in the mood for a nice case of botulism. "You…Liked it?" He just managed to pull out his desk's chair and fall into it before he could hit the floor, "Nobody liked it! I couldn't give them away at the very end!"

    The Duke though was nodding his head as he moved the painting that had been covering the safe out of the way, revealing gleaming steel and circuitry. "I mean, does it steer like an outhouse and look kind of stupid? Of course. But I'm so tired of today's cookie-cutter cars that lack even a lick of originality. At least you were trying something new with it! I've got one sitting in my best garage just for the novelty of it. Some days when I just want to veg out I sit back and relax in it." He paused for a moment, thinking, "I didn't buy it of course, eighty grand for a car back then? No, that was one of the first cars I ever stole." With his target acquired, the Duke turned to give Herb a more serious look. "Alright, give it to me straight Hoss. If I get this safe open, what am I gonna find in there?"

    For a moment Herb considered lying, but really there was no point. At least the cash was covered by his insurance, though it'd suck to lose the plans. "Mostly cash, but also a few early drafts of some new ideas I've been working on in my spare time," Herb confessed, slumping in his seat, a defeated man.

    "Not too shabby all things considered," the blonde biker mused, half to himself before pinning Herb with a serious look. "Tell you what, the Duke is a reasonable dude and you seem like a cool cat. You get this safe open and I will, very generously, only take the cash and a few pictures of those plans, see if I can't make any of 'em work with my babies. Then me and my boys'll finish loading up what we've got and take our leave, no muss no fuss. But answer fast, because this is a one-time only offer, and the clock is ticking down."

    Herb's mind raced at the offered deal; sure it'd mean someone else would be able to produce his designs and cut him out of it entirely, but with the original plans he'd be able to keep working on them, make them even better than what he already had written down. There were even more ideas in his head after all, things he hadn't written down anywhere yet. Not to mention when was he ever going to meet someone who actually liked that damn Homer? It was like seeing a unicorn, a paperless office, and a black astronaut all at once!

    "I'll take the deal, Duke," Herb decided in an instant, hoping against hope that this wasn't as big a mistake as the Homer had been.

    The Duke, hearing such a bold response, only let out a belly laugh in response, once again slapping Herb's back hard enough he almost expected there'd be a handprint there later. "You see what peeps can manage when they're reasonable? Knew I saw a brain in that head of yours! Now, fair's fair; get that safe open and I'll be out of your…Hair."

    No fool, Herb ignored the unsubtle dig at his balding scalp and got to work opening the safe. And no more than a half hour later the Duke proved to be as good as his word, telling his men to double time it if they wanted any chance of getting paid for their work. Leaving Herb and his employees only a little worse for the wear in an all but empty factory on the edge of a natural disaster unlike anything he could imagine. Despite the setback, the middle-aged man couldn't help but feel like a fire had been lit in him; surely if there was someone out there who liked the Homer, there must truly be a car for everyone…He just had to find it. Now if only he had the cash to work on it…

    And so, unaware of recent turns of events on his blood family's side of things, Herb began directing his employees to start loading up what little had been left behind by the biker gang. This was a setback, that couldn't be denied, but for the first time in a while Herb thought he might be feeling something like hope burning in his chest.

    And it felt good!
    I've been thinking on an Herb omake for a while now, and recent discussion in the Discord was able to give me enough of a creativity boost to put the finishing touches on this. Given that Herb's initial factory was based in Detroit, it's not impossible that the good Duke of that city might know of him, and this was the result. Fingers crossed we invest in Powell Motors soon, would be nice to get a little more income, not to mention bringing another branch of the Simpson family back into the fold!
     
  • Sidestory
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    Kamp Krusty adventure! (Part 7)
  • Threadmarks
    • Results:

    [ ] Arts and Crafts

    [ ] tell Him no


    The temptation is there. It really is. This man was, in both the literal and figurative sense, a monster. And you hated him for what he had done.


    But at the same time… He was currently defenseless and unconscious. There was no Honor or justice in killing him really. Only petty vengeance. The criminal justice system would almost certainly do it for you anyways, and you couldn't imagine the thought process your grandkids or some of your more moral employees like Flanders and Mona would have if you gave in to temptation and killed him in cold blood.


    "You can't, Tony. Sorry. Now Come on." You say firmly as you start to leave, there being no room for debate. Tony grit his teeth but thankfully listened to your order, coming along.


    You tiptoe along, determination in your heart. You WOULD save those kids, even if it was the last thing you did.


    As to be expected, guards are keeping their eyes peeled for you. They don't seem to be aware of Whiteman's ultimate fate, but they seem to be a bit jumpy, clearly sensing something is up.


    Contested Stealth Roll!


    1d100 + 50 = 109 vs. 1d100 + 5 = 67


    SUCCESS!


    Even with their slightly increased paranoia, the guards are still… themselves, so they end up just missing you when you hide. They squint into the darkness but ultimately continue on.


    With that, you arrive at the Arts and Crafts center.


    The place is swarming with Guards. Even if you were the stealthiest person on the planet, there was no getting pass them without a direct confrontation.


    Though really? You were more than ok with that.


    Contested Martial Roll!


    1d100 + 49 = 78 vs. 1d100 + 5 = 92


    Failure!


    You grab a rock and charge the guards, ready to take them out, staying silent in hopes the dark will give you an element of surprise.


    Unfortunately, the guards actually do their jobs for once and see you. One yelps in surprise and throws a baton at you, beaning you in the head and making you stumble back, your grandkids gasping in worry.


    Great, now you had a headache!


    But the guards weren't done!


    Contested Martial Roll!


    1d100 + 5 = 24 vs. 1d100 + 49 = 92


    Guards Failure!


    They attempt to charge you and club you with their batons, but with shocking speed you didn't know you were capable of anymore, you weave and roll out of the way.


    "Damn it! Hold sti- Wait! I have a gun!" One guard suddenly remembered.


    The Kaiser, thankfully, heard this and decided it was best to get involved before you were turned into Swiss cheese!


    Contested Martial Roll!


    1d100 + 32 = 111 vs. 1d100 + 5 = 101


    SUCCESS!


    The guard who remembered he had a gun took a shot… and Kaiser blinked as he had gotten in the way. The bullet went right into his stomach and stayed there.


    There is a long, stunned moment of silence as he dug it out. He then glared at the Guards.


    "...Rude." he stated, punching the guard who shot him, sending him flying into his fellows. They all pass out in a crumpled heap.


    You sigh in relief, dusting yourself off.


    "Thanks." You nod. He gives a thumbs up as you all enter before more guards can arrive.


    You shouldn't be shocked at this point. You really shouldn't be. But the cruelty of these folks astounds you.


    The Arts and Crafts center is horrible. Kids are crammed together on benches, barely enough room. The roof is leaky. The walls have horrible posters with demotivating statements like "Work is all you know" and "Don't Disappoint me". The floor is dusty and splintered.


    As the kids sniffle and work tirelessly to make countless items, you growl in rage. Unfortunately, a few guards were inside as well and this alerts them to your presence. They blink before scrambling to detain you.


    Bart manages to slip out of their grasp, Turning to his fellow kids.


    "Guys! This is ridiculous! Don't you see!? We outnumber these Dorks! They're so lame my grandpa easily kicked their butts! Why should we listen!? If we rise up, they don't stand a chance in He-!" Bart begins. One of the Guards growled and goes to grab him… but is pelted with a bootleg Malibu Stacy with enough force to send him stumbling back.


    "Ha ha!" Nelson Muntz pointed and laughed.


    That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back as the kids all rise from their seats. And all hell breaks loose.


    The guards don't stand a chance. As your grandson pointed out, they are completely outnumbered and are easily swarmed. They're all down for the count before you know it.


    You are obviously quite shocked, but ultimately are just happy they're finally free. The kids all laugh and high five.


    "Good job, kids! Now go! Get out of here! We have to finish things up but we'll get you out before you know it!" You assured.


    The kids don't have to be told twice. They all immediately run off.


    "Oh yeah! Everything's coming up Milhouse!" Milhouse von Houten cheered. You exit yourself… and your heart immediately sinks.


    One of the guards outside had been alerted by all the noise, clearly, because some black haired guy in a black suit was standing outside his office. He was holding a button. He didn't look mad, he just had an air of apathetic exasperation to him.

    "MR. BLACK HEART!" Bart shouted, finally allowing himself to express some genuine fear. You weren't a (complete) fool, you could put two and two together who this was...



    "This is why I hate kids. Oh well. A little shock to their systems oughta-" He began.

    ???

    1d100 + 86 = 116

    SUCCESS!

    He doesn't finish his sentence before something enters his body. He looked down and pulled it out. It was a tranquilizer dart. He blinked.

    "...Crap."

    And with that he falls over, unconscious. The kids let go of baited breath and cheer, continuing their run to freedom to lay low until they can officially leave.

    You look up and see a glimpse of the Finale. You give an appreciative nod, which he returns before being hidden again.

    You sigh in relief and gather your thoughts. Ok…. Can you just leave? There's plenty of evidence as long as you don't touch anything, the kids are free, the guards that aren't knocked out are pretty clearly not a threat, The one holding the shock collars remote is passed out….

    "Am I forgetting anything?" You muttered to yourself.

    "Oh, just one thing." A voice informed.

    "Thanks! …wait…" You pale, realizing that wasn't the voice of one of your allies. You gulp and turn.

    Red eyes glare at you as another fish man approached.

    "Ugh. Morons. Fine. If you want something done right… you know the saying."

     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • I know that I guessed him being involved way back at the start of this, but the reveal that Gil is actually here still shocked me quite a bit!

    Fingers crossed we can catch him alive, I bet Frink would love to study him, see what makes him tick.
     
    5 bucks that Burns had something to do with the water that mutated him on this timeline and since Ron is no longer here, his Vendetta is now againts Springfield itself.

    The money is just a net positive for him no doubt.
     
    ...what happens happens, let the fish fry.

    Also soon would be a great time to make a "sleeping with the fishes" line but unfortunately any time I try to think of one the wording gets...kinda rough kekek.
     
    You know we are still missing that sudden homer interrupt.

    INB4 the Boss battle starts and he just rams Gills with his car without noticing who he rammed while giving us the stink eye.

    Would be anti-climatic but it would be in line for the simpsons jokes.
     
    Aron593 said:
    You know we are still missing that sudden homer interrupt.

    INB4 the Boss battle starts and he just rams Gills with his car without noticing who he rammed while giving us the stink eye.

    Would be anti-climatic but it would be in line for the simpsons jokes.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    Homer (to Abe): "Let me ask you one thing, dad" (looks on the hood of his car to see Gill sprawled over it and KOed) "...who the hell is that guy?"

    Kind of a reversal of that FG gag:


    View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tErYxulB0c
     
    Ha! It was Gill! 😊 Granted this is bad but I was still right! 🎉

    Also starting wonder when Homer will show up since that one omake was made canon if remember right.
     
    Well, time to murder a deformed teenager! Not that Abe knows that.

    Or! We could capture him and give him to Frink to do science to! I don't know which. Blackheart dies though.
     
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