DoofQuest- a Disney Villains Victorious CK2-Style Quest

[nwish425]

More of the Same​

You might be surprised to learn that Norm spends much of his time around the science team, at least when he's not following his father around or attempting to become a real boy that is. While Norm isn't exactly the brightest AI out there he still found the laboratories and workshops comfortable, reminding him of when Dr Doofenshmirtz first made him. Many of the scientists and interns have learned to pay him no mind, sometimes even confusing him for any of the other Normbots that can be found throughout the building, Norm had learned the ins and outs of several of the different research labs, and had at least a vague idea on what they were working on.

It was a surprise to him then, when he entered a lab that used to belong to LOVEMUFFIN and found a blue haired man working on a device Norm's processor simply couldn't make any sense of. As Norm attempted to make any sense of the device the scientist working on it noticed Norm's presence and approached the robot.

"Hóla, nobody said anything about a Normbot coming to my lab today, I've been busy with the coven." He said before he realized something. "You don't look like one of the normal Normbots."

"Hi there, I'm Norm. Created by my father Dr. Doofenshmirtz and serving as the basis for the Normbots." Norm said in his eternally chipper voice. "I was wondering what exactly is that device you're working on?"

"Well Señor Norm, you can call me Gomez, mostly because that's my name. I had some free time so I decided to work on-" The newly identified Gomez stopped himself as he processed Norm's words. "Did you say father?"

"Yes," Norm started to say. "Although father has yet to-"

"Oh this is great!" Gomez interrupted the robot and practically began to dance on the spot from excitement. "If you're the boss's kid then that means that the boss is interested in my little project! Come, let me show you what I've been working on!"

Norm followed the strange man and was soon presented with a small device hooked up to a small piece of scrap metal. Gomez began to mess about with those buttons and switches mad scientists always put on their inventions to look cool and began to explain.

"This gizmo of mine is based on those old stories about a Philosopher's Stone and using alchemy to change something from one material to another." He explained as the device began to power up. "Back in Nuevo Nizza there was a Divino trapped in a slab of metal I couldn't figure out how to free and thought, 'why don't I just make it into something easier to crack open?'"

With that the device finished powering up and created a bright flash of light, when it died down the crap metal had been completely changed into a piece of stone. Gomez cautiously approached and touched the stone, seeming to think it could explode at any moment. When the stone did not in fact explode Gomez began to celebrate his success as Norm watched in confusion.

"Congratulations on your success Gomez," Norm said, his confusion not showing in his voice. "But how exactly does it work? It seems more like the magic Janna and that annoying staff use."

"Well it is magic, sort of." Gomez began to explain. "You figure out a thing or two on how to combine science and magic when working with Divinos after all."

Norm didn't get it, but decided to simply accept what he saw without questioning it further and began to think about some of the potential uses for the device.

"Could your invention be used to change metal into something other than stone?"

"Well I don't see why it couldn't." Gomez said, placing his hand on his chin as he thought. "It would take some work to modif-"

"What about flesh?"

"What?" Gomez was shocked at the suggestion, especially in such a happy voice. "Flesh?"

"Could your device change metal into flesh?" Norm repeated the question. "And turn me into a real boy?"

"Why would you want that?" Gomez asked the robot. "Do you have any idea how many ways that could go wrong?"

"But if you could then I could become a real boy." Norm repeated. "And then my father will love me!"

The second statement gave Gomez pause, giving Norm the opportunity to continue talking about how much he wants to be a real boy and earn his father's love. He didn't even notice when Gomez started to tear up and muttered something about Papa. Around the time Norm had gotten around to something about kickball and a platypus, Gomez's demeanor had changed completely and he was already beginning to modify his invention.

---

"Are you sure this will work?" Norm asked as he was hooked up. "This does not seem safe."

"Oh don't worry about it, it'll be fine!" Gomez said as he began to mess with switches. "Probably."

Gomez's invention had undergone extensive modification, now standing taller than Norm himself and pumping significantly more power throughout. It whirred to life as arcs of electricity began to fly off and into the floor around it and Norm. One part of it broke off as pressure mounted, landing next to Norm as he looked down at it.

"If you say so!" Norm said as he leaned back into his bindings. "I can't wait to be a real boy!"

Gomez continued to work as the device finished its startup sequence, grinning wildly to himself as he did so. The boss was going to be so impressed with him when he heard about this! Gomez was so distracted he failed to notice the red light on the side started going off until it was too late.

"Oh that's not good." Gomez said to himself before running for cover. "It's going to blow!"

Norm didn't hear him over the sound of the alarms and so continued to sit there as the device built up too much power. More and more parts broke off and several screens on the device that measured power began to burst entirely. Before long the magi-tech device had enough and exploded in Norm's face, leaving him charred but otherwise unharmed in his seat once the smoke cleared.

"I have no idea what went wrong." Gomez told the robot as he approached. "I'm so sorry Señor Norm, maybe next time… Actually there might be a Divino that could help, let me check my notes!"

Needless to say…

Norm did not become a real boy.

 

[Stratagemini]

Moving Vanessa Into Her Dorm​

"Thanks, uncle Roger, I know this was short notice so..."

Roger Doofenshmirtz smiled as he placed the final box of his niece's things in her dorm. "Not as short as you might think. Heinz told me about his newest 'Inator' a couple of weeks back. I suspected something like this would happen and had Melanie clear my schedule."

"And she actually did it?" Vanessa asked, surprised.

"Well, that fancy new computer program of Heinz's did. Princess Coffee Java, I think he called it? I'm a little surprised he didn't call it the 'paperwork-inator'," Roger laughed.

"You know she's probably going to become a full AI, right Uncle Roger?" Vanessa replied.

"Like that Norm robot that Heinz built right after the divorce?" Roger asked, curious. "That one always seemed... Emotional. I had assumed it was because your father pre-programmed it that way."

"Him. Norm's a he, and it's definitely not something my dad did intentionally. You should treat him like a person too, I wouldn't bother with the other Normbots around Danville yet, but Norm is special. He's kinda like a doofy younger brother, I guess?" Vanessa explained. "He's smarter than you'd think. Also, he collects high tech weaponry and can modify his chasis to include it."

Roger winced.

"Right. I remember that. Weaponry. Very catchy song. Melanie was singing it for almost a week," Roger admitted.

He paused and went to look at his niece. She'd grown up a lot since he'd first come to Danville to find his Older Brother. More... confident. Roger couldn't help but be relieved. He'd made a decision not to start a family of his own, worried that he'd repeat his parents mistakes and... Well, he didn't exactly want to dwell on his own childhood, but Heinz's certainly hadn't been a bed of roses.

It was hard. As a kid he and Heinz never really interacted. They'd never really played together, or spoken much. There was always this feeling that Heinz was wrong, that he was forbidden. That there was something wrong with him.

That the same thing could happen to Roger if he weren't perfect at everything his Parents wanted from him. That if he messed up he'd end up like Heinz, alone in the garden, replaced by his father's dog.

He'd left Drusselstein as soon as he could, following the example of the only other person he knew of who had ever left the country, the brother he desperately wanted to be close to, but didn't know how. The brother that had made it on his own in America without support. With their parents actively sabotaging him at every opportunity.

Heinz was the strongest person that Roger knew.

Not physically of course. Although he was never exactly unfit, and his efforts at getting into shape with the man that he insisted was the actual Ghenghis Khan had certainly shown a lot of benefit as well.

Heinz wasn't strong that way though. He couldn't lift weights the same way their father had taught Roger how to. Instead his brother was the most mentally resilient person on the planet. He was able to overcome everything life threw at him and keep going far after Roger would have quit.

Roger had to admit, it made him jealous, knowing that he'd always be in his brother's immense shadow no matter how well he did in life. He'd never be able to live up to his brother's manic genius, nor the sheer presence of the man. When Heinz Doofenshmirtz walked into a room, everyone paid attention. They didn't automatically respect him. Hell, they often did the opposite! But they paid attention. And as a politician Roger had spent years trying to cultivate that same skill that his brother had just... effortlessly.

"Hey Vanessa, you know that it's okay not to be as smart as your dad, right?" Roger asked, in what he desperately hoped was a tender voice. His rich tenor was great for singing and political proclamations, but he knew that on more than one occasion his well-meaning compliments had only served to insult his brother and drive him away.

Vanessa looked at him oddly.

"I mean, it's... Your dad. He's not exactly... normal. He's definitely one of the smartest people alive and it's okay if you're not. Everyone has different talents, and..."

"Uncle Roger, I'm well aware I don't need to be like my dad. I don't want to be."

"Good. I mean- I don't mean it's good that you don't want to be like your dad, Your father is an absolutely amazing man. But, It's good that you learned the lesson that..."

"Uncle Roger, is this really about me?" Vanessa asked, carefully.

"Yes?" Roger asked. "No," he admitted. "Did I ever tell you the story of why I came to Danville?"

"No? I mean, you told me the story about how you did it. How the entire country of Drusselstein showed up to see you off, which was a lot more impressive of a story before I visited the country, by the way... But I don't think you ever told me why?" Vanessa admitted.

Roger chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I wagered on you never going to visit your grandparents. It seemed a sure bet at the time... I left to find my brother."

Vanessa nodded. "That makes sense. It explains why you ended up in Danville, anyway."

"When I was growing up Heinz and I never really socialized. Even when we did it was through competition. You heard about your Grandmother's obsession with Kickball?"

"Something about how her love was always inexplicably linked to Kickball?" Vanessa confirmed.

"That's right. That's Heinz's takeaway. But he's wrong. Mom's love was never about Kickball. It was... I don't know what it was, but she was... Heinz never had a chance of earning her love, even if he was good at kickball. She hired me a kickball tutor you know, told me that I needed to be the best, no matter what. There was always this... pressure to be the best. To be this kind of golden child who could never do any wrong..."

Roger sighed heavily.

"Your father, for all that he suffered through never really had that pressure. Not really. But I know what it's like living in his shadow and... I just want you to know that... You'll be happier if you blaze your own path instead of trying to follow his."

"Thanks Uncle Roger, but I've kind of... always known that? Dad hasn't always been the best at understanding what I'm interested in, but he's always been supportive of it. I know he'd definitely be happy if I took over his company one day, but he'd never force me to do so, and he'd never get upset at me if I said no."

"Your father's always been a braver man than me," Roger admitted. "Stronger too. It makes me jealous."

"You?" Vanessa asked surprised. "But... you've always had everything dad ever wanted. Grandma's love, toys, good looks, success. You even got elected mayor a couple of years back?"

"I only ran for Mayor because your dad wanted it," Roger admitted sheepishly. "Not that it mattered in the end. We all know who's actually in charge of Danville now. I'm just a paper pusher. But that's not why I'm jealous, Vanessa."

Roger paused. "Do you know what your father's best quality is?"

"His ability to break the laws of physics over his knees in unexplainable ways?"

"He fails," Roger corrected. "He fails, and he gets back up and tries again. He knows how to fail, and he doesn't let failure stop him. He doesn't let fear of failure stop him. He tries, even though he knows he'll lose, and then, eventually? He wins. That right there is why your father is a great man. It's why he has a family, and I don't."

Vanessa stared, shocked at the vulnerability on display. Roger never opened up like this. He was always calm and collected. A gregarious man of few words who always had a smile on his face.

Vanessa reached over and hugged her uncle.

"You know... It's okay to fail, Uncle Roger. It's okay to fail, as long as you're willing to get up, and try again."

"Did your dad teach you that?" Roger asked, trying to mask the tears in his eyes and the unsteadiness in his voice.

"Yeah," Vanessa admitted. "Not in so many words, but... You know I asked for a Mary McGuffin Doll when I was seven?"

"I don't even know what a Mary McGuffin Doll is," Roger admitted.

"It's a plastic doll. Stupid, and kinda worthless, but... I wanted it. I asked my dad for one, and I was disappointed when he didn't find it. I threw a tantrum. I can't remember what I said, but I'm sure it was hurtful. Little kids are always hurtful when they're angry. My father never said a word about it until summer three years ago when he turned up with the doll. He'd bought it at a garage sale, 9 years later. It wasn't that he saw it while looking for something else either. He'd been searching for a Mary McGuffin doll for 9 years. Looking at internet auctions and garage sales hoping to find one. He never gave up," Vanessa smiled. "That's what he taught me, Roger. That, you will fail. A lot. I don't think any man on earth has ever failed as much as my dad has. But... as long as you keep trying, doing something different in each attempt? Eventually you'll get it right."

Roger smiled. "Thank you. I... needed to hear that."

Bashfully, he wiped away the tears in his eyes. "And here I was trying to give you helpful advice, but you already learned everything I know long ago."

"Well, not everything," Vanessa admitted. "You wouldn't happen to know how to work an intercom would you? The apartment has one, and my dad's advice on the subject was... not too helpful."

"I do," Roger smiled. "Let me show you how."

THE END

 

[Paddywagon Man]

Prog 2000: Lions of the Wasteland

"Face it Jonesy, we're bloody lost. And down to the last picnic basket." Roman grumbled, wiping Wasteland grime from his mask as the Lionheart trio continued their aimless trek through the biting sandstorms and scrap metal.

"It's not as bad as all that, gentlemen." The towering combat robot Q1-11 replied demurely. "First off, I find myself quite unbothered by these conditions. Second, you're not down to your last picnic basket - that basket's quite empty."

"We're - what? No food at all? Q, how's that supposed to be better?"

"Well, tea's in ready supply."

"Of all the - why you - I could -"

For once at a loss for words, Roman grabbed the empty basket and threw it, only for Jonesy to catch it.

"Careful there Roman. Gift from the Basket-Weaving Monks, wasn't it? Could still be important, eh?"

Roman sighed. "That's desperation talking, Jonesy. Those monks might have known a thing or two back when they still had the Book of Rules to hold sewing circle over. Since it changed into a basket manual they've been a bunch of basket cases, and it's only gotten worse with it gone entirely. You know that as well as anybody. Just throw the thing away."

Jonesy shrugged and tossed the basket over his shoulder.

"Whatever you say boss. But speaking of desperation… weren't you the one that let those basket cases talk us all the way out here on some wild goose hunt for another book? Or am I remembering wrong? No, maybe it was Q, or my dear Uncle Stan, saying 'Jonesy - go trek through some beknighted Yank junkyard, it'll do wonders for your skin'?"

The two thieves stood in standoff for a moment. Then, eyes downcast, Roman walked past his comrade and retrieved the basket.

They walked in silence after that.

--

"Link! Pa!"

Elmer Angel Junior burst into the Angel Gang's hovel with a loud whoop, drawing squinting glares from his mutant kinfolk. "Folk walkin' the Cursed Earth today, out by the West botheap! Heard 'em jawing about baskets!"

"Pa -"

"Shut your Drokkin' mouth, Link!" Elmer "Pa" Angel bellowed, shoving his son aside in his haste. "Junior, keep talkin'! They have anything on 'em worth stealing?"

"All shape and size of guns and ammo, pa! And one of them was a big chrome robit! Kane's cronies and the Duke'll pay good for working parts! Let's get out there, I wanna slice 'em!"

"Grud on a greenie! That's fine evenin' news! Storms gonna be a bitin' soon, they'll have to take shelter in one of those hollowed-out wrecks if they don't want to get sanded down smooth. Easy prey! You just keep quiet and trail 'em, we'll gut them good once they lay down for the night."

"Pa -"

At the interruption, Pa Angel turned and slapped Link across the head.

"Link! Consarn it! Shoulda drilled a shuddup dial inna your head back when we fixed up your brother Mean! What you got to say's so important anyways?"

"Ah, Drokk! Mean's what up, Pa. Weren't he out by the West botheap today? Because if you want our Angel Gang huntin' these rabbits quiet-like… you don't want the rabbit anyplace near the Mean Machine."

Pa mulled his words over a moment in worried silence, then turned and slapped Junior across the head.

"Consarn it Junior! Why didn't you warn me Mean was gonna make a botch of this! Shoulda drilled you a smart dial! Now grab your heat and let's get hunting!"

---

Unaware of the attention they had already drawn, the Lionhearts had finally reached the first building miles, seemingly long-abandoned but its locked door still quite intact.

"Jonesy!" Roman shouted over the noise of the fast-approaching sandstorm, finally breaking the silence. "We're gonna need to shelter up - looks like a real doozy coming our way. Can you blow the door open?"

"Rather not, Roman! Those tracks look a lot fresher than this building does! Smoke or a flash could draw attention we'd rather miss, just shoot the bloomin' lock!"

"Alright, alright… one silenced slug, just what Doctor Rexus ordered…"

Roman drew one of his numerous firearms and pulled the trigger. A moment later, an enormous shark head burst from the ground, tearing the door and much of the wall apart with an ear-splitting roar before submerging. Jonesy and Roman hurled themselves to safety, while Q nonchalantly refilled his teacup from his hip spigot and took a sip.

"Perhaps the gun labels could use revisiting? Land shark ammo's not so cheap these days, you know I keep track..."

"Very droll, Q. Door's open, let's get inside."

"WHO MAKES NOISE?"

"What's that now, Jones-"

Roman paused. It hadn't been Jonesy's voice. Turning cautiously around, he beheld an imposing, downright mean-looking cyborg. Oversized mechanical arm on one side, shoulder stump on the other. If there was one feature that drew the eye, though, it had to be the four-setting dial on his metal-plated forehead.

"Oh, er. Greetings! We are the Lionhearts!" Jonesy cautiously declared.

"Loin arts? Sounds lewd! In fact it's getting me downright angry!" Mean "Machine" Angel bellowed back. The Lionhearts, backed up against the wall, drew their firearms in readiness.

"Look, crock pot. We don't want any fighting here, yeah? Just tucking in for the night - been saving our last pint, it's yours if you'll leave us alone. Anybody round here know how to be properly nice to travelers?"

"Nice? NICE? You see this dial on my head? At one, I ain't very nice at all! At a two, I get downright mean! It's why they call me the Mean Machine!" To demonstrate, he cranked the dial to 2, his teeth grinding into a snarl and veins popping on his neck.

Jonesy rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell, you listen to this nutcase! Imagine growing up in this junkyard, it must turn men into mad brutes!"

"Oh, I'm from Texas 'riginally." Mean interjected. The Lionhearts nodded in understanding. At least that made sense.

Then they opened fire.

Raising his mechanical arm as a shield, Mean effortlessly deflected Jonesy's shotgun blast, then swung its bladed fingers savagely through Q1-11's hip as the large robot attempted to grapple him. Tea began spraying from the wound and pooling on the hard-packed ground.

"MY TEA! I'm leaking, I'm leaking ambrosia - AAAH! The cherry rooibos! It's mixed with the mint!" Q cried, kneeling and trying to salvage tea in his cupped metal fingers, the battle momentarily forgotten. He forgot a lot more moments later when a savage headbutt from Mean sent him crashing into the wall with a dented head.

"Bollocks - Q! Get up, can you stop this beast?" Roman demanded.

"I can… plant a hedgerow. With some myrtle, and maybe a row of geraniums…" The dazed robot replied.

"ALRIGHT YOUSE GUYS ASKED FOR IT! TIME TO GET BRUTAL!" Mean bellowed, turning his forehead dial up to 3 and charging.

"Well Q, you can complain about the expense when you're back in one piece… take this, you tin-plated ingrate!"

Switching weapons, Roman fired again. A rapidly-growing embryonic land shark disappeared into the ground beneath him, a huge shark fin ripping out of the soil moments later and tearing towards Mean. With an explosion of scrap metal, the colossal beast burst from the wasteland, jaws wide for a meal of cyborg.

Mean headbutted it.

Roman and Jonesy paused a moment to watch the shark sail gracefully over the top of the bot heap, disappearing into the distance.

Then they turned and ran.

---

"Alright, Pa, right around here's where they gotta be holin' up. I saw 'em, I get first slice."

"We all get a piece, Junior. Now just wait quiet-like. I don't see hide nor tail of Mean, so maybe we can still make a proper ambush of this."

"Wait, Pa!" Link interjected, testing the blade of his hatchet. "I reckon I hear some-"

Link was cut off when a stunned land shark landed on him, knocking him senseless and rather startling his kinfolk.

"Drokk! Junior, get your - wait, what's that consarned sound?"

"aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The sound was Jonesy and Roman screaming as they ran through the wasteland towards the waiting Angel Gang, Mean Angel hot on their heels.

"Shoot him! Shoot him Roman!"

"I'm bloody trying! He's headbutted thirteen sharks and I'm running out of ammo!"

"Who headbutts sharks?" Jonesy cried in exasperation.

"Who headbutts robots?" Roman countered.

"WHO WANTS A HEADBUTT?" Mean bellowed, charging headlong through scrapheaps and obstacles in his pursuit of the fleeing Lionhearts.

Fumbling through his pack of explosives as he ran, Jonesy gingerly pulled out fist-sized sticky bomb and tossed it to Roman.

"Here, I reckon we can slow him down if we blow the dial, yeah? You get in close and slap it on his forehead and we might have a shot!"

""Get in close? To that? Not bloody likely, Jonesy! Why don't you -" Roman began to protest, before rounding a corner and coming face-to-face with Pa and Junior. "Wait! People, regular people, we're saved!"

As the meanest, cruelest bunch of bandits for miles, Elmer and Junior Angel were used to people taking off in flight or begging for mercy at their approach. Seeing the Lionhearts running towards them thanking the stars for their luck was a new experience to say the least.

"Old timer! I'm Roman, and there's a mad cyborg on my tail! You live round here, you gotta hide us!"

The Angels drew their weapons menacingly. "These the rabbits you meant, Junior?"

"Er… if you mean Jonesy, he's a mole." Roman replied with growing concern. "Oh heck, you're just as mad as rock 'em sock 'em back there aren't you."

"Maddest, baddest family in the Cursed Earth." Elmer replied with an evil grin, picking his teeth with his knife. Jonesy gulped. "Looks like young Mean worked useful for once, drove the suckers right into our snare."

"Ok, this has been charming and all, but we're armed and dangerous and we don't have time to chat, so get out of our bloody way or we'll -"

"FOUND YOU!" Came the cry as Mean tore through the trash cube behind them, careening into the Lionhearts and Angels and sending all four flying like ragdolls. Coming to a rest at the far end of the clearing, he turned around, finally noticing his bruised family among the casualties. "Oh, sorry Pa."

The four each pulled themselves from the wreckage, getting to their feet as quickly as they could. Jonesy got up quickest, firing a shotgun blast that sent Junior ducking behind some scrap.

"Nowhere left to run, Roman, we'll 'ave to fight it! I've got the hicks covered, you get that bomb on the big fella!"

"HEADBUTT JOUST!" Yelled Mean as he lowered his head and began barrelling toward Roman.

"Er… Jonesy, I don't suppose you've got some kind of crash helmet in that pack of yours… or a spare head?" Roman asked nervously as the juggernaut approached.

"Just get it done man!"

"Oh, bollocks. I can't believe I'm doing this. Those monks better know their bloody basket weaving." He muttered under his breath, pulling the basket over his head for what little head protection it might provide, then turning to meet Mean's charge. "Alright then tin can, here's a gift from Uncle -"

The two heads met with a sound like an artillery shell, the basket exploding into loose straw as Roman was hurled senseless across the clearing.

"These kooks and their baskets ain't no match for us Angels! Nice violence, brother Mean! Now help me quiet down this mole 'ere!" Junior piped up gleefully, wrestling with Jonesy for the shotgun. Mean turned…

And headbutted Junior two feet down into the hard wasteland soil.

"Son! No 'buttin family! Turn your Drokking dial down!" Elmer commanded.

"There's straw in the dial, Pa! It's jammed on four and a half! I'm going into an UNCONTROLLABLE BUTTING FRENZY!"

"Oh, Grud." Was all Elmer managed before another headbutt sent him sailing into the sunset, to land in a pile of battered land sharks.
As Jonesy watched, Mean began to race around the clearing, ranting about baskets and headbutting everything in sight for a solid five minutes before his rampage was ended by a crushing metal fist to his forehead plate.

"Death to the salad eaters!" Grumbled the still-dazed Q1-11.

---

An hour later, both groups were sheltered in the abandoned building as the storm blew through, the Angel Gang tightly bound and stacked in front of the mangled door to keep the sand out.

"Hold still if you want your tea spigot fixed, Q, I can't make this mess of parts out one from the other…" Jonesy grumbled, doing his best to mend his robot companion.

"Jonesy old chap, I am glad you got my head fixed at least, even if I still can't stop thinking about gardening. It'll be a bitter trek with my tea tank empty though, and we're no closer to finding that Book of Rules for the monks."

"Say, if you nice fellas are just looking for a book of rules, I've got one." Mean offered sweetly.

"Ah, thanks a million cha - BOLLOCKS!" Roman blurted, jumping back in surprise. "You're awake already? Hell, I sedated the rocks off you doorstops. And what's with this friendly talk, you think I'm that dim?"

"No, not at all, friends, just trying to help a traveler in need." The cyborg replied with a smile. "Oh, I hope I wasn't too rough with you before! Pa said I was too soft for the Cursed Earth, dialed me up to make me tough, he did. Best years of my life. Though I wish he'd let me keep the arm."

"I mean, the old man does seem sick enough for it… but what the hell's an illiterate soup can doing with our book?"

"Made a little fightin' pit. Figured I'd wait until somebody came looking for it, and then shoot 'em with rockets from me arm."

"Your machine arm shoots rockets?" Roman asked, arching one eyebrow.

"No."

"Couple of holes in that plot of yours then, isn't there?"

"Yeah, but the soundtrack was pretty good."

After looking at each other in bewilderment a moment, the Lionhearts took a quick huddle to confer.

"Alright, this Yank's a few drops short of a blood pudding. But do you think metalhead's whacked family story's the truth? We gonna trust him now the dial's gone?"

"Well, we don't have any other leads to follow, unless you count a trail of stunned sharks. Might as well pick through the brute's colouring books. I do wonder what he meant by Cursed Earth, of course."

"Probably just their local name for the Midwest Scotland."

"That's 'Exclusion Zone', you wanker…"

"M'wife Sadie exclusionzoned me." Mean added. "Thought we was special."

The Lionhearts looked at him a moment in continued bewilderment before Roman reached a decision.

"Alright, pie plate, s'better than you deserve, but we'll bite. Storm's about over, so tell me where your stash is, and your house and any food you got, and we'll leave you and your mates to untie yourselves when the sedatives wear off."

---

"Well, roger me lewdly. That Mean Machine was on the level." Roman declared in mild surprise, chewing on a roast rat in the Angel Family hovel and flipping through their prize. "Book of the Law… well, close enough to a Book of Rules, eh? Should kick those monks off their basket habit!"

"Worth celebrating, isn't it chaps?" Q1-11 asked. "Should have just a dribble left at the bottom of the tea tank. Bottoms up, eh?"

Q twisted the handle on his hip all the way, but not a drop came out of the spigot.

"Ah, sorry Q." Jonesy offered. "Spigot still broken? Musta used the wrong parts… you alright?"

"TIME TO GET BRUTAL." replied Q, headbutting Jonesy.

---

"Link! Drokk it, can't you get Mean fixed any faster?" Elmer Angel yelled, rubbing his wrists where the bindings had bit.

"I'm tryin' Pa, it's just a mess of loose parts on this floor - there! He's fixed!"

"Alright Angels, we're hunting those bastards that rustled us, and we're skinning the lot! Crank 'im up to four!"

Link obliged, cranking the dial on Mean's head to four. Mean continued to sit and smile sweetly.

"You botch the job, spugwit? He's not looking any - Grud on a greenie, what's that pouring outta his nose?"

"Want some tea, Pa?"


-END


A/N Did you know Disney did the 1995 Stallone Judge Dredd movie? And for no properly explained reason at all, Mean Machine drops the Book of the Law in the SNES game? Who'd a thunk?

 

[BurnBright]

Negaverse B: Evelyn Quest
Quest: The Bigger They Are- Deja Vu​

Hego took a glass of ruby red wine off the man's platter, swirling it around gently and savoring the aroma.

Hego Intrigue Check: Notice the Super-Drugs
DC 90/150
91+7+10 (Anyone Can Cook)+30(???)=138
Partial Success

You watched as Hego sniffed. And then sniffed again. On his face, there seemed what could almost be classed as recognition, but of a confused sort.

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I can't believe Hego caught the drugs. I swear, if we're defeated by Hego of all people, I'm going to cry. I wanted to be defeated, but… not like this. Never like this.

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Stop being overdramatic. He rolled incredibly well, and also, like… he somehow got a +30 from talking to Mirage? Is this some sort of trait of hers?

Anyways, it doesn't matter how we go down, we just need to go down. I'm really hoping that Sinatron is at least slightly less insane.

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I'm betting it has to do with them both being part of DEI at one point. Plus, Mirage might just have told him to be on guard. She has experience with people claiming to support supers and then turning on them.

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I still wish we could have told her, instead of it being deemed OoC.

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Eh, it makes sense. Plus, I'm telling you guys, Sinatron is definitely working against us. Like, come on, he's definitely planning on getting Prince Pyrus to testify against us at some point, right?

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Tbf, the more people working against Evelyn, the better. Though seriously, that superpower thing seriously fucked over Evelyn's sanity. She could have been a decent king.

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Tbf, the more people working against Evelyn, the better.

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Please stop saying this! This isn't "Topple Yourself As Much As Possible Quest", this is a DVV quest. I know all of you guys want a perfect CEO, and I know I can't stop you from toppling Evelyn somehow, but at least don't ruin things for our next CEO. At this rate, you're going to have us shout at everyone that we poisoned the drinks!

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Calm down. I might not be totally onboard with the constant toppling, but it's just a game.

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Anyways, let's focus back on the vote. I think that we should just go ahead and not even try and hide it. If Hego figures it out, well, that's an unexpected bonus.

[X] Just don't mention anything about the wine. It's not like Hego will notice.

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[X] Just don't mention anything about the wine. It's not like Hego will notice.
We're already committed.

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Come on, VampChimera told us that even if we managed to get toppled again, rebranding would be much harder a second time, if we get outed publicly. And if Hego is onto us, then Mirage probably is too!
[X] Go and ask the kitchen to get out a different crate. They're all drugged, but this should help if someone claims you didn't do anything.
Or, better yet:
[X] Write In: Abandon the plan of drugging the supers, it was a dumb idea anyways.

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Can you stop with the constant write-ins trying to derail the plan? It's not even that bad of one, it'll just inevitably fall apart if Sinatron betrays us. But he probably wouldn't want to tank Olympia either, so we should be fine?
[X] Just don't mention anything about the wine. It's not like Hego will notice.

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I feel like the Hego won't notice thing is definitely bait, guys. Like, he has 37 effective Intrigue now, which is almost on par with our base stat.

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No he doesn't.

32+7=39

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This was after he talked to Mirage. I don't know what this bonus is, but it clearly isn't that broad. Maybe it's something to do with sussing out direct betrayal? Anyways, I doubt inaction will trigger it.
[X] Just don't mention anything about the wine. It's not like Hego will notice.

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Okay, sure. I feel like things are basically out of our hands now, we're just waiting on Sinatron.

[X] Just don't mention anything about the wine. It's not like Hego will notice.

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Or Mirage!

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I'm going to be honest, I don't get your obsession with Mirage. She left the company well before Syndrome fell, and she's working for Doof. If she was working for Xanatos, maybe she'd be a threat, but no way Doof would be able to infiltrate us.

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Let's err on the side of caution. We don't want this to be public.
[X] Go and ask the kitchen to get out a different crate. They're all drugged, but this should help if someone claims you didn't do anything.

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I'm telling you guys, she's probably the real power behind the throne. No way Doof has 24 Stewardship. It's probably an extra thing the QMs added because we were playing as Syndrome, and then they couldn't retcon it out.

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I don't know, doesn't this turn prove Mirage wasn't in charge this whole time? Doof went and froze himself, Mirage (or Elizabeth Peña, I guess) became acting CEO, and a lot of stats seemed to change. Plus, she got a ghost to drive out spies. If she was really in charge the whole time, why would she drive out spies now?

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I don't know, doesn't this turn prove Mirage wasn't in charge this whole time? Doof went and froze himself, Mirage (or Elizabeth Peña, I guess) became acting CEO, and a lot of stats seemed to change. Plus, she got a ghost to drive out spies. If she was really in charge the whole time, why would she drive out spies now?

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So that people would think exactly what you're thinking now, obviously! She's using this opportunity to act openly without revealing just how much power she really has. And maybe I was wrong about the stats, maybe those are still Doof's stats, but I'm telling you, Mirage is the one who's really in charge, even if Doof doesn't know it.

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We've discussed this enough times to come to a sort of consensus, guys: Doof definitely is in charge of the science division, and probably thinks he's in charge of everything else, too. Mirage probably handles intrigue to some extent, but I doubt she's really onto us, which is probably good. Can you imagine playing as Doof?

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I guess if Mirage did a hostile takeover, he'd be the technical majority shareholder. But yeah, that'd probably suck.

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Spoiler

This is the first part of Evelyn Quest, which is itself a sequel to @Silent Grove 's omake series, which includes Negaverse-B: A Synopsis of Syndrome Quest, Negaverse-B: Syndrome Quest, Live from the Sands Gala, and Negaverse-B: Evelyn Quest- Monkey Paw.

I have plans to follow up on the rest of this quest, as well, but I wanted to just post the first part and see what people thought.

 

[Penguinbowler]

What's their Deal​

Shego sat in her office, silently fuming over what she saw as the universes biggest joke. Not only did she arrive at a Convention Center over 80 miles away, her idiot Brother had somehow managed to become the single biggest Hero in the USA (Which was surely going to go to his head), but now Edna was demanding to see all the companies files on a "Miss Elizabeth Pena, her employer, and her tailor" while refusing to take no for an answer.

Even if she wanted to share with Edna what they had on Doofenshmirtz mysterious secretary(?), the truth was there just wasn't anything worth keeping. The woman covered her tracks well, and even amongst the… odd menagerie of employees on the Mad Pharmacist payroll. Her spies never got to the Doctors Inner council, but her understanding was it wasn't likely to help much, the woman was just as much an enigma to her coworkers. All she did know was Miss Pena was once a member of the Kronos Corporation, she conducted her interview via cell phone, and she knew a far greater deal about espionage then most people would expect (This coming from Shego's own Testimonial).

The rest of DEI's important staff were even odder then this mystery woman. She could understand hiring a competitor's industrial espionage expert. She could not understand hiring a SFIT drop out whose biggest claim to fame was a series of annoying Edutainment videos on Buzztube. Or a teenager who spent more of her time pranking him then attending board meetings. Or that weird Toon who seemed to only care about finding an almost certainly dead star and making Sandwiches. A group of ninja's who, instead of hiding, lived in the main Lobby. And especially not 2 elementary schoolers who can only "work" for you during the summer.

The most irritating thing was, all these absurd hirelings and deals were working. The drop out just made the single biggest breakthrough in robotics history. The teen was regarded as a hero for her role in stopping last Christmas' Gargoyle attack. The Toon single handedly took down an entire resistance and invented an entire martial art. The elementary schoolers managed to do a massive, go green campaign that enabled them to fix their power issues without going to fusion. And the ninjas… well apparently Doof was very happy of their Arizona report and their leader would sometimes be heard shouting about how "The Power of Love" allowed him to "Make Ninja Magic Real" so they were probably competent enough.

Company Secretwise, many areas were off limits to even her most high ranking infiltrators. The place was loaded with traps, even in public, frequently traveled areas. Entire Labs, including L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N.S. old place (She shuddered at the thought of having an entire thinktank of Drakkens) were on a need to know basis. While she could get in some, such as their Dinosaur growth lab, many others she didn't even know what they could theoretically do since the Lunatic didn't label them beyond room number. Then there was the entire issue of Toffee. She didn't know what the Lizard did to this guy, but apparently after the Doctor rejected a deal you weren't even supposed to talk about him outside of special conference rooms and all information on him was handed to Doofenshmirtz himself. She was originally gonna assume it was another case of the Mad Pharmacist's incredible pettiness, not allowing a rival in the food industry to even be talked about; but then it was pointed out to her that Doof is never that quiet about his "Enemies". Something is amiss with the Doctor and Lizard…
The man was very much a person who should be taken as a complete joke, yet somehow, someway, was making national Headlines. One month he could be losing his city to super-powered cats, the next his hit musical manages to lead to True AI being created. His Inator's were similarly absurd; from making it rain meat to fundamentally altering probability for the entire solar system.

Shego was glad she, at the very least, didn't have to meet with Doofenshmirtz for the next couple months, or possibly ever again. During the last couple of check ins after he gave her brother to Olympia, Shego had been considering just ceasing all contact with the man. His eccentricies were seriously starting to grate on her, but Edna was right in one thing. DEI was hiding something, and she wanted to know what it was. Mode was going to get approval for this project, even if their reasonings for undertaking it were completely different.

Spoiler

So this is my first attempt at an Omake, or really creative writing in general, sorry if its bad. Also I really can't get Edna's voice down (Or Dialogue in general) right so I cut the final conversation

 

[Stratagemini]

Bully For You​

It was an odd feeling, Buford decided, being in on a secret that no one else wanted to recognize.

Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz. Eccentric CEO of "Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated." Secret ruler of the Tri-State area.

No one really wanted to acknowledge that last bit, but Buford had met the man before he was famous. He knew his goals and talk of 'Evil' weren't just marketing. Even Candace, as wonderful as she was, only wanted to take Doofenshmirtz down because she assumed he was the 'Mysterious Force' she was all worked up about. She didn't really understand the level of authority she was resisting.

And Dr. Doofenshmirtz was definitely in a position of authority, legally or not. Buford knew his haphazard style, his manic need for acknowledgement. His signature was writ large across Danville in its very atmosphere and architecture; sometimes literally.

The man certainly wasn't actually Evil, not even with a little 'e,' much less the capital 'E' he insisted on; Buford knew that much. No one truly evil would give out free meals and help rebuild the city out of his own pocket money, even if he was the one who destroyed it with giant raining meatballs. But that didn't make him a good person either.

Doofenshmirtz was... flawed. Buford's blood called for him to resist him as an authority, but his heart, which pumped that blood saw Doctor D. as a kindred spirit struggling against a world that didn't appreciate him.

Idly, Buford wondered if Doctor D. remembered him. They'd spent most of a day together discussing their world views while trying to turn Mount Danville into a statue of the 'evil' scientist back before he achieved his goals. One line still stuck in his brain "Oh you're not gonna need friends! You're gonna be on top of the heap! It's lonely at the top; but you know? It's the top, so it dulls the ache."

Buford didn't regret his choice. Not that he'd ever be caught admitting it, but there was more to life than power. Poetry, art... friendship; if he had to give them up for power, well that just wasn't a trade that Buford was willing to make. Power didn't make him happy. It couldn't. Rebellion wasn't about gaining power over others, it was about stopping others from controlling you.

There really wasn't anyone that Buford could talk to about his musings. Well, there was Brigitte. He still wrote her occasionally, but there were some things you didn't want to commit to paper and Brigitte was halfway across the world in France.

It was sort of a shame that Candace's rebellion was crushed. She was definitely the sort of person who would believe him about Doctor D, but Buford didn't think her mom was going to let her out of the house until she was eighteen at least.

Every so often Buford thought about calling Doofenshmirtz. He still had the man's number in his phone from when he had worked for him. It had only been three years, he would probably remember him, right? On the other hand, it had been three years, and calling out of the blue seemed... Buford didn't quite feel right about it, though he wasn't sure why.

Maybe not calling was in itself his own form of rebellion. His mom had found out about Phineas and Ferb's summer internships and had been making noises about improving his college resume; as if all the extra-curricular activities he already took weren't enough. It was already hard to keep up with practicing six separate instruments, not to mention his Latin classes. He just didn't have time to do that and an internship. If he called, he'd probably have to ask if Doctor D had space for another intern, and he really didn't have much to offer. Phineas and Ferb were the science experts. There really wasn't much use for the humanities in a mad science organization. By not calling Buford didn't have to acknowledge the reality of the connection. Right now his mom just thought he was friends with a pair of interns. if she knew he'd interned himself for a day before quitting to save his friends... She'd probably be okay with that reasoning? But she'd definitely want to see if he could mend those bridges.

Buford didn't want things to change, but it wasn't really his control, was it? He hadn't really had a chance to hang out with Phineas and Ferb over the past few summers, but hanging out with Isabella and Baljeet wasn't too bad of a consolation prize. He missed the chance to see his friends and he was certainly seeing Candace much less, but he'd been able to get his poetry published under a pseudonym. Change was coming to Danville whether he wanted it to or not. Buford could feel it in the air.

Buford took out his phone and stared at the number that Doctor D. had programmed in. His fingers cycled between the buttons to call and the button to delete.

Buford sighed and placed the phone back in his pocket. Three years on and he still couldn't decide.

Change was coming to Danville, but change was always coming to Danville. There was no point rushing into things now. He had a few more years left to go until he really needed to think about getting a job; the number would be there later.

Buford smiled and lay back, staring up at the sky. Doofenshmirtz was probably right about it being lonely at the top. Buford didn't need to make a decision now. He could still enjoy spending time with his friends. In the future that might change, but the wonderful thing about the future was that no one really truly knew what might be in store.

Buford still had time and he still had options. There was no sense in not making use of both.

The End

 

[Penguinbowler]

Moltarquest: A Very Familiar Debate

Ok so we've finally agreed, the Spec Ops team, at least temporarily, will be Spinel, TOM, Archer, and Kris?

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I'm fine with Kris and Archer being on it, but I dislike having both Spinel and TOM, wouldn't it be better to delay the heroball for a turn in order to recruit someone to fill the Diplomacy hole? Since otherwise we have Lu on it and she is honestly just kind of a joke.

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Why can't we just stick 362 on it? She has a pretty decent Martial Stat and even knows how to lead a Spec Ops force!

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How did Lu even get to be our best remaining Diplo hero anyway

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Diplomacy:
TOM 34 On Spec Ops
Orel Puppington 28 Diplomacy Director
Lord Cowboy Darrel 26 Stewardship Director
Harvey Birdman, 24 Currently has to do "Stop the Drama Lawsuit"
Frankelda 24 Currently Banished
Brak 23 Currently unusable do to the last Interlude removing him for 3 months
Numbuh 362 22 (+20 with KND Operatives)" Intrigue Director
Johnny Bravo 22 (-10 with Woman) Currently on sign up for next Season of Total Drama
Kris 20 On Spec Ops
Spinel 20 Spec Ops
Space Ghost 18 Loyalty Malus has him at lower then Lu
Huntress Wizard 16 Occult Director
Shirley the Medium 16 On Resummon Frankelda
Silico 15 Learning Director
The Scotsman 15 Has to do his Haunt Aku Personal this turn
Lu 14
Archer 12 On Spec Ops
Zorak 12
Fat Doc and Thin Doc 10
Toiletnator 10
Aqua Teen Hunger Force 9
Lake 9
The Mooninites 8
Sealab 2021 8
Dr. Weird 2
Schnitzel 0 Martial Director
Rick Sanchez -3

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362 is a part of a Heroball in KND High Command and can't be be added to another one

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We could just not do Spec Ops until we have more heroes in general

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We need it to reach the higher level Martial Actions as well as clear up our current hero roster for potential future expansion

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Let's just wait a turn or two, we have a couple slots left and I'd prefer to use Martial to ruin the premier of Total Drama anyway, we're really been lagging behind in the ratings these past couple of turns.

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[Mojave]

People often ask, what separates Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated Wendys from the Artificial Intelligences I'm familiar with? Well, broadly speaking, Wendys are true life forms with their own thoughts, emotions, wants, needs, and everything else that comes with being alive. But how do they reach that point? Well, new life isn't easy, which is why we developed the Triple Consent Program.

Stage 1: The Nursery
-The digital minds of simple, pre-sapient AIs play millions of learning games to train practical skills while communicating with people who help to shape the AI's personality. Think of them like role models who help their pupils grow.
-Once an AI has reached a sufficient level of emotional intelligence that they can be considered responsible for their choices, they are given the option to enter the physical world in an android body suited to their specialized skills and needs. For example, a surgeon Wendy might have servos capable of hand precision down to the micrometer whereas search and rescue personnel might have enhanced strength.
-If the AI chooses not to be uploaded, that's perfectly okay and they're free to spend more time maturing before entering the meatspace. If an AI does choose to be uploaded, that's where stage 2 begins!

John(He/Him) is a search and rescue-specialized Wendy who has trained using disaster simulators to predict the location of trapped survivors and the best strategies to clear rubble. He's also communicated with trained DEI professionals to develop communication and soothing strategies. When DEI first made their offer to progress to Stage 2, he elected to stay in the Nursery, but now he's ready to enter the physical world and do his part to help!

Stage 2: Maturity
-Despite being a Wendy with their own personhood, they aren't fully mature yet, just like you weren't fully mature when you moved out for the first time. They can reach that point through real life experience though!
-Wendys are subcontracted for a period of time through Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated to perform all sorts of jobs. Wendys receive an industry-appropriate payment while DEI takes a small fee for connecting employers with the perfect Wendy for their job.
-Employers are financially liable for any and all physical and mental damages to a DEI Wendy required
-This process continues until and unless a Wendy decides to terminate employment with Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated.

Taylor(They/Them) is an engineering-specialized Wendy who has been subcontracted by Wyndcomm Enterprises to improve their fuel efficiency. Unfortunately, a small workplace hazard resulted in an injury on the job. Don't worry! Taylor's going to be patched up by the best roboticists DEI has to offer, and we understand that accidents can happen at even the safest workplaces. Just like they would with a human employee, Wyndcomm is legally obligated to cover the cost of recovery. Here at DEI, we're all colleagues in Evil, so you can expect our ethical protections to apply to all employees!

Stage 3: Independence and Beyond
-As distinct persons, Wendys have the right to pursue other employment opportunities, if they so choose, though this will be depriving them of the robust protections granted by DEI liability subcontracts and certain proprietary hardware equipment. Wendys may instead negotiate their own contracts with prospective employers.*
-At this point Wendys will be gifted a standard model android for their own use and transferred into its shell, with free maintenance check-ups for the following year and the option of extending this plan further.
-While we wish Wendys the best in their future employment, they are free to reapply for employment at DEI at any time.
-Like any customer, Wendys are free to purchase all publicly available robotics hardware from DEI

Lana(She/Her) is a cooking-specialized Wendy who dreams of cooking in the finest restaurants of Monaco. The DEI family hasn't yet expanded to include the French Riviera (yet), so Lana terminates her employment contract. DEI uploads her consciousness to a standard android model and wishes her the best of luck pursuing her dreams. If she ever makes the decision to return to Danville, our doors -- and our mouths, will be open.

From Heinz Doofenshmirtz and everyone here at Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated, we're thrilled to introduce you to Wendys, the first ever truly living computerized intelligences.

*While it is the sincere hope of DEI that prospective employers of Wendys treat them with the rights and dignity of personhood, due to current legislation, contracts with Wendys are not currently enforceable.

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

A bunch of us on the Discord have spent a while debating how to ethically commercialize True AI and I think we finally have the best option, although I'm open to C&C (especially on the name).

 

[AProcrastinator]

Refuge in Audacity​

"Hey, Mr. Milford!"

"Why, hello, there, Janice!" the Mr. in question looked up from his many files and spreadsheets. "What brings you to my office, today?"

"Ah, just wanted to say 'hey' to the best boss in the Tri-State area, that's all!"

"Oh, you. Come on, there's gotta be a reason!"

"No, really," Janice shrugged, all chipper smiles. "I just wanted to check in before my vacation. See how things are going with you?"

"Well, honestly, they couldn't be better!" Milford was just as chipper. "Today's a big day for me, y'know."

"That so?"

"Yepperoni! You remember Carl, my little one?"

"Oh, how could I forget?"

"Little scamp's all grown up and presenting his perpetual motion machine to his school science fair."

"Well, that's just lovely," Janice gave a thumbs up.

"It sure is! Same day as his brother's graduating college, too!"

"What a coincidence!"

"Ha, you're tellin' me. I'm havin' to leave work early just to make sure I make it to both of them! But family is important."

"Oh, for sure, for sure."

"You can't put a price on being there for you kids," Milford declared, leaning back in his seat. "And that's not even mentionin' they found my missing wife!"

"Ah, see, I toldja she'd come back to you!" Janice gently thumped his shoulder.

"I know, I know, I'm a worrywart," Milford raised his hand in surrender. "Still, six years is an awful long time to get lost after a game of bridge."

"So you'll be seeing her for the first time in a while, that's fun. Her first, so you can all go to the science fair and the graduation together?"

"Well, there's one other stop I gotta make before all that, so I can pick her up. Turns out, I won a brand new flying car!"

"Oh, I know I say this all the time, but: get outta town!"

"Good thing they managed to contact me, too. If I show up to claim it any later than today, they're gonna have to give that thing away to the runner-up!"

"Well, lucky you."

"Then, of course, we gotta go pick up my grandma from the hospital. We'd do it first thing, but the surgery won't actually be done until 6 o'clock. Should go well, though, fingers crossed."

"It is miraculous, the recovery that woman made."

"Still contagious, though, 'til the infected tissue's removed. Today's gonna be my first day seeing her in person in six months!"

"Well, I can certainly understand why you'd wanna leave work early."

"I figure I've earned a little 'me time'."

"Still, somethin' of a busy day!" Janice marveled. "All good things, I mean, but..."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Milford smiled back at her. "I'm very thankful for all the good things that are happening for me and my family, and truly humbled, besides. I wouldn't miss today for the wo-"

The door to the office suddenly slammed open, and Patrick, Mr. Milford's secretary, burst into the room.

"Sir!" he shouted, frantic. "Doofenschmirtz Evil Incorporated is having another press conference!"

"HOLY TOLEDO!" Milford shouted, standing, and pointing at the television hanging on the wall. "Patrick, clear my schedule for the day!"

---

"Thank you all for clearing your schedules for the day," Doctor Heinz Doofenschmirtz, kindly eccentric grandfather dictator of the Tri-State area stood on the raised platform, smiling for the cameras as the background music swelled… for all of two seconds, before suddenly looking sharply confused. "I'm, I'm not sure why I said that? This conference shouldn't take more than, like, twenty minutes, tops. There's really no reason, or at least none I can think of, you know, to clear out a whole day? Yeah, the more I'm thinking about it, the more that was a weird thing to say. L-l-l-let me try that again, okay? Sorry 'bout that."

He cleared his throat.

"Thank you all for clearing your next twenty minutes of the day," Doofenschmirtz repeated, the music swelling once more. "I wanted my company to call this press conference to talk about the last press conference my company called, in which everybody almost died and we destroyed our reputation forever."

Despite the fact that the music was being provided by a live band, it stopped on a record scratch.

"Good times!" the Good Doctor continued, cheerfully, after a few moments. "Anyway, uh...just wanted to take some time to, you know. Update you guys."

There was the awkward shuffling of papers, for a few moments.

"I wanted to say that everything was exactly what it looked like." Finally, the pronouncement came. "One of my employees came out here with some Flubber, poured some uncreatively-named sciencey stuff into it, and then almost exploded everybody in a several-mile radius. Having failed to do that – and trust me, been there – she was then arrested, and taken to the legendary/infamous, either or, Impel Duck, the prison from which nobody has ever escaped!"

Yet another awkward pause.

"Haven't been there!" Heinz eventually said. "You know. To Impel Duck. I mean, obviously, why would I have been? Complete non-sequitur. Anyway, uh, she's still there." He put the papers down on the podium. "Ludivine von Drake is still in Impel Duck, which is still an inescapable prison from which no one has ever escaped, and definitely no one has ever broken anyone out of."

Doofenschmirtz adjusted his microphone. Cleared his throat.

"Everything's exactly what you thought it was. Everything is stable, there are no people who carelessly handle Flubber on the loose, and Impel Duck is still as impregnable as ever. Nothing has changed."

…

"And here to explain just how much nothing has changed!" Doof stepped aside from the podium, throwing his arms out wide. "Is a man I don't know from the United States Government!"

The crowd launched into a cheering standing ovation, applauding wildly as the man in the dark suit and dark glasses drudged towards the podium, his face fallen into his hands.

"Why is Danville like this," he muttered, just loudly enough for the microphone to pick up. Everyone was polite enough not to point out his faux pas, thankfully. "My name is Mr. Redacted -"

"THAT'S the name! That's the one! I couldn't remember it!"

"- and I am here to assure you all," Mr. Redacted's grip on the podium tightened, "That despite any unfounded rumors you might have heard, the incredibly secure prison known as Impel Duck, which was designed to keep the American people safe from the worst and most dangerous people on the planet, has never, ever, ever been broken into, broken out of, had a secret level hidden in it, or otherwise been subverted. Anything you have heard to the contrary is hearsay. And likely propaganda. And possibly even Communist."

The crowd gasped in terror.

"I know. Shocking to think." Mr. Redacted mournfully shook his head. "Rest easy, citizens. Your well-being and continued freedom are protected by the best money your government can print, and in turn, the best security businessmen can buy. As you can imagine, the richest duck in the world can buy some fairly secure security."

The crowd chortled, interspersed with "He sure can!"s and "That makes sense!"s and one "Has anyone seen my poodle?"

"The Flubber-flinging, fiendish fowl shall never again see the light of an American day," Mr. Redacted actually managed a smile. It was kind of off-kilter, like he'd forgotten to take the safety off first because he so rarely fired it, but still. "You have the United States Goverment's solemn word on that."

"And de government's vord's as guddas de gold, haventcha been hearin'?" a female duck strode on stage, booming loudly enough in her strange accent that she didn't need the mike for all to hear her. "Dat's vhy they're the people in charge of printin' da money! It's da gold-standard for a reason, yep, yep."

"Excuse me, Mr. Redacted?" The member of the press (you could tell by his porkpie hat) held a fried velociraptor leg as though it was a microphone. "Isn't that the criminal, right there? The one you specifically said could not have possibly escaped?"

Mr. Redacted was turning an interesting color. Some breathing returned him to normal, at which point he grit his teeth, and said: "No. No, it is not."

"But it looks exactly like her," this second member of the press wielded a dachsund.

"Bark!" the dachsund, also wearing a porkpie hat, rejoined.

"Yes," Mr. Redacted said. "But this is not Ludivine von Drake, who was arrested for the crimes of Flubber possession and domestic terrorism, fairly tried, and sentenced to life in Impel Duck, where she still remains," Another deep breath, "But instead a different… duck. That Doctor Doofenschmirtz just hired yesterday."

"Quite right, quite right," the duck said, nodding. "You be seein', dat dere nincomstupid who vas throwin' around Flubber like some kinda CRAZY PERSON, do ho ho, dat vas my twin sister!" She lowered her voice. It did nothing to make it less loud. "Always kinda been de black sheep a da family. With, er, of course, apologies to all'our Zootopian friends."

"That is right," Mr. Redacted dragged his hand over his face. "This is. Ludivine's twin sister. Who Doofenschmirtz hired to replace Ludivine after the incident. Very much not the duck who went around wildly brandishing one of the most dangerous substances on Earth like it was a canister of Play-Doh. That would be insane."

"So what's her name?" This one wasn't even a press member. Looked like a chef, judging by the hat.

"Her name, of course." Mr. Redacted swallowed. "This fine woman and definite upstanding member of society is Ms. Von Drake, first name…"

Slowly, Mr. Redacted turned towards her.

Innocently, Definitely-Not-Ludivine fluttered her eyelashes at him.

Mr. Redacted turned back to the crowd with one last sigh. "...Ludacris."

---

Having heard this from his TV, a certain rapper living in Atlanta picked up his phone and called his lawyer.

Some might say it would be folly to try and sue the government for copyright infringement, but these people just don't know hip hop.

 

[VicSage]

Omake: Guest Lecturer.

Sky High, April 22nd, 2017, 2:35 PM.

The auditorium was packed. Not completely packed, to the gills with people pushing and shoving each other, but crowded nonetheless. Admittedly this was partly due to a flock of flying or levitating students chilling in the rafters, but it was mostly due to the somewhat lowered attendance ever since the SRA had passed, though the latter looked likely to not be a factor in the following semester. Students murmuring and laughing and occasionally letting off the small kinetic shove or fireball (to the annoyance of the teachers). Suddenly, the students heard the *thock* *thock* *thock* of the high heels of their no-nonsense Principal, Ms. Grayson and hurriedly quieted down as she approached the podium.

Ms. Grayson stepped up and began. "Good afternoon, students. With the repeal of the SRA and the enactment of the HEROES act, many of you have been no doubt wondering how this would change your curriculum from now on. With such drastic changes in legislation, certain avenues of employment, or non-employment as it were, have suddenly become open to you in ways we could not condone prior to this. While it is too late to change the curriculum required to instruct you how to live with this, we, the faculty of this Fine Institution, have decided on a compromise."

Taking a short moment to survey the crowd, she continued. "As such, we have invited a series of notable speakers to... Educate you into some of the aspects you would have missed. While some of these will not be mandatory," she stated to a brief, but immediately quashed cheer, "there will be certain ones which all students will be required to attend."

While some of the younger, brasher students looked annoyed at this, the older students? The ones who had lost their dreams of Heroism in favor of the more practical corporate mercenary work?

There was a spark of hope.

With a shining, not at all forced smile, Principal Grayson carried on with her speech. "These lecturers will provide a basis into many fields we have not taught as part of the core curriculum for quite a while. Some will be simpler, such as Banter, or Branding and Aesthetics. Others will be much more difficult, like Collateral Damage Avoidance and Mitigation. But I expect you all to give them all your full attention. So without further delay, please welcome our first speaker."

As Ms. Grayson stepped down from the stage, smatterings of applause from the uncertain student body were heard throughout the room. These slowly quieted down as it appeared that no one was following her up to the podium. Suddenly, the lights began to dim. Whispers flickered through the crowd, but before ten seconds had passed, the stage was lit with a warm glow from the spotlights. Where before had been a simple backdrop with flags and school symbols, now there was an entirely new atmosphere. A Persian rug was tastefully lain upon the ground. A set of mahogany bookshelves lay along the back, with titles such as "Etiquette in Society, in Business, in Politics, and at Home, by E. Post" visible to those with enhanced vision. A sleek leather lounging chair was positioned at a slight angle to it all, with a writing desk on the other side of the stage. And standing beside the corner of the desk of the was an elderly man, bedecked in a burgundy jacket and carrying a silvered cane, who began to speak.

"Good afternoon, and a pleasure to meet you all. As you have likely surmised, I am your first lecturer. I have been blessed by your faculty to take the first moment of this time to expand your education, and look forward to seeing you all in further lectures for the rest of the year." His face, though wrinkled and tanned from decades of Mediterranean sun, beheld a visage of a kindness and politeness not often seen. Smiling gently, he carried on, "While there are many important topics to discuss, there is one thing that no one can succeed upon in this business, and has been crucial to the foundation of all civilized men. Ladies and Gentlemen, I am Señor Senior, Senior. And I am here today, to give you the basics of Manners and Politeness."

Spoiler

The idea just came to me, and I felt a need to actually write it. I don't know why, but Señor Senior, Senior has always appealed to me, and I felt that he of all people would be a fantastic public speaker. Like a hobbyist Mr. Rogers, assuming that the Neighborhood Trolley sported a set of razor-sharp wheels and a lightning cannon. I would be glad of any critiques, both public and private, should you choose to read this.