Ohmaigah
Man be Vibin
- Location
- Ask Carmen Sandiego or Waldo
- Pronouns
- He/Him
By the way, since this was accidentally forgotten/deleted from The Turn Results, the mystery of the second interlude has been solved
FATHER QUEST - A Cartoon Network: Villains Victorious CK2-Style Quest Cross Over
- Thread starter HellaCooltricks
- Start date
By the way, since this was accidentally forgotten/deleted from The Turn Results, the mystery of the second interlude has been solved
Thanks for that. We're gradually getting stuff written up.By the way, since this was accidentally forgotten/deleted from The Turn Results, the mystery of the second interlude has been solved
- Location
- California, United States
The next few interludes are related, which is why we're taking a while.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Wonder if we'll get to see Transformers Animated come into play soon. Not because love Sari, she's a favorite of mine no doubt.
But also because I'm curious and kinda worried about how things are going on the Transformer end.
Or if focusing on Gems will cause us to be blind sided by another alien threat.
But also because I'm curious and kinda worried about how things are going on the Transformer end.
Or if focusing on Gems will cause us to be blind sided by another alien threat.
- Location
- going at sufficient velocity
Feel like Transformers would be in Australia having giant robot fights with coop and numbah 4.
As for alien threats the only xeno we got to worry about besides the Gems is Vilgax thanks to the death beam array on the moon.
Feel like we should go over the Guilds rules when we get the chance and find some stuff we can use.
Like scheduling when our nemesis can show up, things can do/can't do, etc.
TFA takes place in Detroit.
So if we wanted to we could reach out to Sumdac
...I wonder how he'd feel about a buyout? We'd probably make a better boss then Mandark...
daedalus725
Kell of Kells, godking of Planet X
- Location
- Daedalus crater, The moon
Yes But it really depends on who's running the show
That is true. As amazingly awesome as it would be, we ain't taking on Megatron.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I come to you with a piece of cartoon network ephemera I had no idea existed.
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Va5umrLQDdc
Hilarious, and fitting for the setting!
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Va5umrLQDdc
Hilarious, and fitting for the setting!
daedalus725
Kell of Kells, godking of Planet X
- Location
- Daedalus crater, The moon
Not sure block rock would sell either
Interlude: The Truth Stings (Pt.1)
Cold white cinderblock walls stretched as far as you could see in all directions. The horizon span of bare concrete was interrupted only by splotches of blue where security guards with jaws and shoulders just as square as the bricks they leaned on stood posted on watchtower balconies. As you passed, their heads turned and rifles shifted. Wary, unseen eyes sized you up from beneath the shadowed brims of their caps.
It was enough undesirable attention to make you lose count of how many towers you'd already walked by. An educated guess told you 'a lot.' Each new tower was more heavily fortified than the last. The final two before the front gate bristled with so many gun barrels and razorwire that they resembled big prickly cactuses.
It occurred to you as you flashed your government ID at the gatehouse that this was your first time in a proper prison.
You didn't count the KND's Antarctic base. Sure, they might've played at being a big house but at the end of the day they were a bunch of little brats doing just that. Playing. All their ideas about carceral punishment came from cartoons and the odd grown up movie the braver ones snuck into. Your brief but humiliating stay in one of their holding cells felt more like a bad summer camp.
Adult prison was a serious place for serious people to mete out the punishments society demanded for reprobates who couldn't hack the nine-to-five button and tie life like everybody else.
You'd think that'd mean you felt right at home. You didn't.
You'd expected raucous shouting, metal cups banging bars, a fight if it was a bad day. Heck! Maybe some inappropriate (but nonetheless flattering) comments about your tight butt. You were surprised by just how… mundane it all was.
The atmosphere was too quiet. Too much like Pappy's house. You walked as quietly as you could for fear the slightest noise might earn you a scolding.
Men in orange uniforms shuffled about in lines down bland hallways while more of those square-bodied guards prodded them along with bored glares and barked instructions. Everybody, even the colorful ones who had more prison tats than bare skin, seemed like they were dragging themselves along by a string. The only thing that seemed to stir these men from their tedium were the moments of small meanness that passed between them. A muttered insult. A passing shove. Even something in the eyes. You got the sense a real fight would actually break the tension built by all these little daily cruelties.
In your world, when somebody hated something, they got it all out in a bombastic blaze of fire and thematic weaponry. Here, it just stewed. It didn't seem like the kind of place the Count belonged.
Nevertheless, some of the inmates stuck out like sore thumbs as "Sooper" types. You assumed of the villainous variety, but what with the public's persistent misrecognition of you, maybe first impressions weren't so reliable these days. Some of them mingled with the normal inmates without differentiation---a one-armed man made out of TV static sat at a table full of skinheads. Others stuck to themselves in small clusters, like the small cadre of fanged orcs straight out of Tolkein.
Even with all the odd ducks peppering the crowd you spotted the pencil neck and slicked black hair you were looking for.
"THERE."
You pointed your great big shadowy finger at Count Spankulot.
"THAT'S my VAMPIRE."
Your escorting guard grunted and sidled off to go collect him.
It hadn't been easy tracking him down. You'd have to lean pretty hard on those OSI buddies of yours. Especially after they already cleaned up the mess with Charmcaster. The government seemed to think publicising the locations of dangerous inmates was a bad idea. On that point, you had to agree, but whatever bad press he'd gotten, you knew Spankulot wouldn't hurt a fly. Well. Not unless that fly had talked back to its parents.
As you pondered what on the GOSH-DARN planet Earth could've landed him in here, the guard returned.
"He's still finishing his lunch. We'll have him meet you in visitation, Mr. Patriarch--er, Father. Sir. And, uh, might I add, big fan of your work."
"Pardon?"
"Oh, you know, the big war in the North. Lost contact with my brother when the Gems took Montreal. Damn shame. You gave them hell, though. I appreciate that."
Oh right, the whole 'Sooperhero' thing. You blinked, a little uncertain. This sort of situation was getting more commonplace but it didn't make it any less weird for you. You fidgeted with your pipe, avoiding eye contact.
"WELL, shucks I just did WHAT any AMERICAN citizen with INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS and unexplained SOOPER-powers would'a DONE."
He smiled. Thank goodness he bought it, 'cause you sure as heck didn't. You don't think you'll ever get used to putting on that good-guy act, but as long as the OSI were sponsoring your little field trip, you had to, in Colonel Gathers' words, "Quit your bitching and square those pansy shoulders like they fit a cape."
"Visitation's down here to the left." The guard makes back for the hallway you entered from.
"I'll catch up with you."
He hesitated. Then shrugged. "You're the war hero."
You watched Spankulot finish draining the lifeblood from his juice box before walking his still mostly full tray over to the trash can. One of the orcs stood up in his way.
"Not hungry today Spanker?"
Spankulot kept his head down and didn't answer.
The orc leaned a burly green arm around Spankulot's shoulders.
"Thought I told you to lose the fangs. There's only room for one MC what dresses up like monsters, and the Wild Brood called dibs. This imitation ain't too flattering."
"Baht they don't come off!" Spankulot protested weakly. "They… They are a part of my Wampire curse."
The orc made a show of clutching his heart. "Woah, a real method actor! Maybe the Spankers oughta give up bikes and try out with Vince Van Ghoul."
The rest of the orcs snickered. Heads were starting to turn, other prisoners stopping what they were doing to see if things got interesting.
The orc ringleader gave Spankulot a sharp dig in the ribs, causing him to drop his tray.
"Alright pal. Fun's fun, but let's rap serious for a minute. Maybe you think you're off the hook 'cause now the Brood's rumbling with the One Eyed Snakes steada your sorry excuse for a gang, but I've still got time to do a little percussion dentistry if you've got so much trouble with those pointy teeth of yours."
Surely the Count wasn't gonna take that… right? He'd paddled peoples' butts off for less!
You thought about intervening. But no! What kind of faith would that show to your old colleague? So instead you waited, quietly rooting for him to stand up for himself.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He never did.
The spank-happy vampire sat meekly before you, his gloved hand cradling his bruised jaw. His scrawny neck dipped down in a hunch, looking at his lap as guiltily as a death row inmate. He'd always been a skinny guy, but the ill-fitting prison orange made him look downright malnourished in contrast to the macabre elegance of his usual black cloak. Even his Bela Lugosi haircut had a few greased hairs out of place.
You found it difficult to reconcile this wretched creature with your mental image of Count Spankulot. Where was the terror that slapped in the night? Where was that cowled crusader of corporal discipline, the bane of naughty children everywhere?
Back when it was just you and the KND and things were so much simpler, he'd been one of the greats. Maybe a place or two below you on the old Soopervillain threat level.
And where had that gotten him?
You still couldn't believe you had to step in on his behalf a few minutes ago, prying those green-skinned jerk-bags off of the Count before they could beat the rest of his pale face purple.
It was simply inconceivable to you to imagine someone so strong… so…
Miserable.
Kinda made you fear a little for yourself. But right now, Spankulot was the one who needed your concern. You crossed your arms expectantly. But the Count said nothing. Did nothing. He just sat there, silently. You turned up the heat by raising one of your fatherly eyebrows. STILL nothing! For crying out loud, normally you had to put in this kind of effort to get your Soopervillains to stop running their mouths!
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath. Where to start? How about the obvious.
"Spankulot."
The Count jumped just a little on hearing his name. Figured. In prison, any attention was bad attention.
"Would you EXPLAIN how ON Earth you wound up HERE?"
Spankulot made eye contact for a moment, looking as if he were trying to gather his train of thought. But it was clear he'd lost his ticket.
"I… I don't know…"
You sighed again.
"YOU don't KNOW? Nuh uh! I already used THAT one! Get your own gosh DARN line."
He flinches away from your rebuke like it's a scorching beam of sunlight.
"I really don't! I svear to you, Father, I do not! I did naht even spank an innocent child this time! She had been a naughty, naughty girl!"
You gave the vampire a scowl, narrowing your glowy yellow eyes into your patented 'Very Disappointed' look.
"WHAT happened to you, MAN?!"
You're not really sure whether you're asking what sent him to prison, or what made him into the cringing mess you see before you.
Truth be told, you knew why Count Spankulot had wound up here. Evidently, times had changed, and unlike the good ol' days, it was no longer kosher for creatures of darkness to deliver corporal punishment to other peoples' children. No matter how much they deserved it. The courts had mistaken an innocent vampire for a different kind of predator. At least, that was how Skips had explained it.
From Hunter Gathers, you gleaned that Spankulot had gotten nabbed during an attempted 'retribution' against some tu-tu wearing brat. Unfortunately for the Count, said brat had turned out to be Mandork's baby sister. Long story short, a specially built Van Hellsing bot had left him staked & gift wrapped on the steps of the county courthouse. Along with a lawsuit in triplicate and camera evidence of him breaking & entering a house to assault a minor.
Needless to say, without Guild backing, Count Spankulot was thrown to the werewolves. The judge hit him with the book hard enough to chip his fangs, but none of that explained his current state. He'd had legal trouble in the past, and that hadn't made him any less of a menace.
"I came here… Because of the Sp… Spanking." He cringed as he said what used to be his favorite word. "The doctors, they told me that it vas… wrong… That… I vas not right in the head…" Spankulot said, finally speaking up. His gloves balled up, straining as he raised them off the table. It was like even talking about spanking was causing him anguish.
"I… I cannot do such a thing again. It is…" He recoils, revulsion filling his face as sweat beads on his brow. "Spanking.. It is.. Unnatural. Revolting! Repulsive! Such filth.. I do not- I can not ever s… do it again! So many innocent children, punished by such dirty, filthy hands!"
Spankulot? Not spanking? Well, that wasn't going to fly. Mostly because he'd have to change his name. But also because he wasn't acting like himself. And if he had to change, then that might mean--
It was time to switch tactics. Straightening your non-existent tie you adopted a more relaxed posture. You were old friends. Why not remind him of that?
"So YOU'RE gonna go cold turkey? DON'T be crazy, SPANKULOT. That's YOUR thing. You SPANK!. Who ELSE is gonna PADDLE those brats?"
Each time you said the S word he cringed a little more into himself. You tried harder.
"COME OOOON, don'tcha remember all the GOOD times? Like in CAIRO? EH? When we SPANKED Sector E across the SAND dunes? Or THAT TIME in LOUISIANA? When we had all those Voudou NERD - ZOMBIES after us? If YOU didn't spank them, then WHO knows what would have happened?"
Despite your best attempt at lightening the mood, your frustration only grows as Count Spankulot slammed his hands over his pointed ears, his whole body tensing up like a coiled spring.
"Stop it! Stop saying that word!" He shook his head violently back and forth. "I said no more! What we did in those days was wrong! I am the one who deserves the punishment! ME! I have been the baht boy!"
"WELL of course you're the BAT boy, you're the vampi-"
Spankulot jerks forward, out of his seat, cutting you off mid-sentence.
"That is naht vhat I meant!" He trembled violently in place. So much pent up energy in that scrawny little frame, and no idea where it should go. "The naughty must be punished! But if punishing naughty people is naughty, then my whole life's purpose has been tainted! I belong in here. We all do. Because our kind have nahthing more to offer. The big fat zero."
You flashed back to your not-so-pleasant chat with Moltar. How he led you in circles about being evil for a greater good. How frustrated you felt, being unable to explain yourself. Being unable to respond. Maybe for the first time, you felt a pang of sympathy for Count Spankulot in place of revulsion for how far he'd fallen.
"Listen, pal. I don't KNOW who or WHAT got into that greasy little HEAD of yours, but we're not the ones who're screwed up. We don't obey any POWERS THAT BE! We ARE the powers that BE! We're the grown ups for pete's sake! WE make the RULES. NOT the other way AROUND."
You struggled to piece together the right words to convey the nagging unease you've felt since your moonbase coma with this new world you'd woken up to.
"Sure. I'll admit IT."
You begin, the truth cloying the back of your throat like an annoying loogie.
"SOMETHING has changed. And as much as I HATE to admit that I'm NOT blind. But nobody asked US! OUR way worked JUST FINE, thank-you-very-much!" You glared Spankulot down, who in turn sat back in his seat, his anger vanishing as yours arrived.
"Back in the good ol' DAYS, you were the straight shooter. Sure, maybe all that moralizing JUNK got on my NERVES, but you had a code, dang it. If MR. BOSS and MR. FIZZ and WINK and FIBB wanna turn traitor, FINE. IF STICKYBUN wants to give in to some kinda pirate mid-life crisis, the BIG jerk can go for it. What ever. If THE SOOPREME LEADER OF THE WHOLE ANKLE BITING K.N.D. wants to tell ME to grow up, FINE! I can HOLD down the fort myself! But you can't quit. NOT. you. 'Cause if now YOU'RE saying it was all for nothing, then maybe there really IS something wrong with me!"
It slipped out faster than your brain had time to process it. Everything blanks.
You quickly scrambled for another line. Bluster. Rant on autopilot. Get MAD. Mad was good.
Mad meant it was HIS fault.
"So.. SO you can't give up. I just won't LET you."
"But… I-"
"NO. BUTS. Just BUTTS."
At this point, you were no longer sure who exactly you were mad at. Whether it was Moltar for dropping you from space, Stickybeard for leaving you, 362 for lecturing you, this loser vampire for somehow dragging the admission out of you, or yourself. But Spankulot was in the room, and you certainly weren't ready to get angry with yourself.
You took a breath. Looked him dead in the eye and gave him one last chance to come to his senses and make everything right again.
"No. No more." He shuddered. "I heard about you burning those treehouses. Vhat sort of things do you think they will resort to now that you've cornered them like rats?! Vhat kind of children do you think you're making out of them?" He hesitated. "You and I are both old enough to remember… To remember where we came from."
You saw red.
"YOU."
You began, jutting a finger with all the authority you could muster at the vampire.
"Are. Going. TO. Spank. Those. Brats. And we're gonna MAKE it just like things USED to be!"
"No!"
"YOU. Don't. GET to SAY. No. You think YOU'RE naughty? Well HERE'S a news FLASH! The whole WORLD'S gone NAUGHTY! "
"But if I--"
"And WHAT do you DO to NAUGHTY people?"
"NO!"
WHAP!
You slammed the flat of your hand against the table. Fire flared out from under your palm. The sound of it rang out across the empty visitation room. The reaction was immediate and visceral. Spankulot's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, fangs bared in a snarl. He fell back off of his seat, scrabbling backwards and clutching for his chest.
"YOU SPANK 'EM!"
Spankulot suddenly gasped. His body convulsed and he flopped like a fish against the black and white linoleum. Your own heart skipped a beat, anger draining into panic. Something was wrong. All you'd wanted was to shock him back to normal.
Hot anger drained to cold fear. You stepped closer, pushing the table aside. What was it? A seizure? A panic attack? Garlic allergy!?!
The guard watching from the doorway started. Somebody let out a cry of alarm. You felt like your head was underwater. You could almost swear you heard a keening metallic ringing in your ears.
Unfortunately, you didn't have any time to think of what to do. In a split second, you watched as Count Spankulot's head snapped to look at you, bones creaking from the strain. His arm jerked towards you, stretching unnaturally far, delivering a powerful open handed slap to the chest.
The next thing you knew you were crashing through the visitation room's bulletproof glass window. Shards sprayed out in all directions, shortly joined by concrete shrapnel as the momentum of the mighty spank drove you halfway through the opposite wall. Stumbling to your feet, you pulled yourself over to the shattered window, you peered in.
"Spankulot?"
A wretched shriek was the only response you get. You could hear the snapping and re-fusing of bones. That metallic pulse from before bea faster like a robot's heartbeat.
With a sick crunch, a boney talon hooked over the lip of the table and stabbed deep into the metal. Followed by another.
And another.
And another.
And another.
A hand. Bursting from the shredded remains of one of Spankulot's white gloves.
Black bat wings followed, upon which fur grew in shaggy tufts, bristling out of tears in the prison-orange like weeds from sidewalk cracks. Long, bony protrusions form menacing spikes at the ends of each wing. A grotesque sight. But that was before you even saw the main mass.
It was tall, standing twice your height, at least. As it hauled itself over the desk, its torso was hidden under a cloak of black fur which continued down the length of its body to its legs. The cloak rippled and shuddered as its flesh shifted in a way that made you sick to your stomach. It wasn't done changing yet. Nowhere close.
What had that woman said?
He wasn't changing.
He was Evolving.
The beast looked up. You saw its mouth.
Thick and rubbery, it formed a proboscis tube that squirmed about in a slow, exploratory movement. It pointed directly at you. You got a good look at the inside of it.
The teeth.
The teeth.
Ring after ring of them lined the inside of the tube-mouth as far back as you could see.
You felt your gut do a triple backflip belly flop as the monster that was your friend stalked towards you, drool flecking from its maw. The gruesome sight made your whole body go stiff: stuck somewhere between fight or flight watching it shamble closer and closer.
Its taloned toes dug divots into the floor with every step. Its breathing became heavy and labored as its body spasmed one more time---the mutations were finally stabilizing. Though nothing about what the Count had become was 'stable.'
It wasn't your first run-in with a monstrous transformation. Werepoodles. Gummy mummies. Heck, your own dad transformed people into Senior Citizombies. One time you'd turned into a jaguar for a week or so.
But all of those had been clean by comparison.
You'd never had to watch the bones snap and re-fuse beneath the skin.
No matter how hideous it was, something in there had been a person. So you had to try.
"S..Spankulot?"
You tried again timidly.
But it wasn't him.
The beast's slithering mouth coiled towards you in a rush of sudden momentum. The sound. It was honing in on the sound.
A half dozen taloned forelimbs unfurled from its main body. What was it doing? Was it trying to clamber through the window? The limbs ended in such splayed and awkward digits you couldn't imagine they'd be any good for movement.
You didn't have to wait long for your answer.
"Patriarch, look out!"
Your escort guard burst through the door, pistol at the ready. Gunshots echoed throughout the visitation room. An entire clip's worth of lead emptied into the EVO. He may as well have blown spitwads.
With a heart-stopping screech of anger, the Spankubeast backhanded you down the hallway. You sprawled across the floor, sparks of pain and alarm finally thawing the cold shock that'd left you rooted to the spot.
You shook the stars from your vision just in time to see the guard fumbling to load another clip. He didn't get the chance to use it. The EVO lunged. It closed the distance with a speed unfit for its ungainly body. In a flash, it seized him by the collar with one hand and bent the grown man onto the floor.
You could only watch in disbelief as the EVO's forelimbs delivered a machine gun blow of rapid fire slaps until the very floor threatened to give way beneath the force of its brutal retribution.
You were back on your feet and blazing hot in a fraction of a second. A gout of searing flame plowed into the Spankubeast like a fiery battering ram, sending it skidding across the room, claws clicking for purchase on the tile. Its back impacted one of the heavy steel tables, warping it and two more behind it in half before it finally came to a stop.
"Stay Down."
You raced to the wounded guard's side while the monster was still groaning. You reached down to help him up---but stopped short of touching him.
Because you saw what was happening to his teeth. Growing longer and sharper by the second.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Sunset. An overgrown path winds through the muggy Florida Everglades. Spanish moss dangles overhead from low hanging mangrove branches. Way too low, hanging actually. Plech. Ptooey. Shouldn't've driven a convertible."
"Um.. Should I still be filming?"
Izzy turned herself around to face her passenger, continuing to steer blindly with her feet.
"Well, DUH!! It's a documentary. That means we've gotta document the entire experience, Daffy."
"It's Daphne." Said Daphne.
"Just keep it rolling. We're getting some great establishing shots."
"Izzy--"
"Might have to dub over the exposition. I don't have a very narrator-y voice. D'ya think Morgan Freeman's on Cameo?"
"Izzy STOP THE CAR!"
Daphne lunged for the wheel. She needn't have. Izzy wrenched it into a hard left a split second before impact with the wooden sign staked inconveniently into the center of the road. They skidded to a drifting halt, kicking up a spray of muck and nearly lurching Daphne over the side of the vehicle..
Daphne tried to steady her thumping heart. She shook out her frazzled hair. Izzy re-frazzled hers.
"Well you didn't need to shout." Izzy chastised her. "Also, it's not legally a car. It's an auto rickshaw. I'm not allowed to drive cars or bikes anymore, but the judge forgot about three wheelers. Also also…" She hopped out, hands on her hips and heedless of the mud sucking at her sandals. "We're here!"
She gestured to the signpost.
GATORSBURG - THE GATOR CAPITAL OF THE WORLD!
POPULATION: here somebody had nailed over with a fresh plank of plywood. Painted on that was the word SCRAM.
"Ha! That's not a number." Izzy snorted.
Their vehicle's engine made a similarly guttural sound. Then it caught fire.
"Jeepers!" Daphne scrambled out just as fast as she could take off her heels. Fire was one thing, but no way was she losing perfectly good mary janes in that muck.
They watched the fire run its course.
"Whoops! There goes another one, haha." Izzy laughed. "I guess it didn't like the mud."
"Does this happen to most things you drive?" Daphne asked.
"I think I'm getting better." Said Izzy. "Usually they explode."
The short, wet walk into town took them past old farmhouses and fenceposts rotting in the ground where they stood. Down the road and atop a hill Daphne could make out the spooky silhouette of what she knew all too well to be the Drowsy Gator Hotel.
"Gatorsburg." She let herself shudder. "Like it wasn't bad enough that Cleveland was full of phony monsters. You had to drag me back here."
"Oh, so you've been?" Izzy asked brightly. "That's great! You can show me all the best wrasslin' spots."
Daphne sighed. "I've been trying to tell you the whole time. There are no more gators in Gatorsburg. They hunted them all out for their skin like, twenty something years ago. All that are left are a bunch of counterfeiters." She caught herself. "Well. Were."
A pang of guilt welled up inside her. It wasn't like the town was ever going to bounce back, but by solving that particular mystery she had killed its one last source of income. Illegal or not.
"Oh." Izzy frowned. She rarely did that. "But I've already done a saltwater crocodile! I can't just NOT do an alligator. That's like only eating one peanut and leaving the other one in the shell! At this rate by the time I've met and conquered every predator on the continent I'll be in my thirties."
Daphne awkwardly patted her shoulder. "Heyyy, don't be that way. There's a whole sunshine state full of wrestlable wildlife. I'm sure we can find some other disease infested swamp where you can live out your delusional bucket list."
She pulled Izzy back towards the main road.
"C'mon. We can walk back to a state highway and hitchhike somewhere you can find your gator. And a shower."
"Oh now. Leavin' so soon?"
A huge hulking shape stepped out of the mangroves to block their path.
"I insist y'all stick 'round a lil longer for a bite."
Snaggle teeth leered down at them from a big green scaly maw framed by a shock of dripping black hair. Swamp water ran down the rest of the creature's elongated body in slimy rivulets, beading in between the ridges on its hump back.
"Woohoo!" Izzy cheered. "For a second you really had me going there. No gators in Gatorsburg, pshaw! What a kidder!"
"I'm not the one kidding you." Daphne crossed her arms and made a sour face. "Really? Which one are you again? Grady? You can't expect people to believe the exact same grift after we already unmasked you. For a second I was actually feeling bad for you guys, but I guess you'll never learn your lesson."
Grady Gator leered. Daphne could count all of the (what she hoped were) fish bones stuck between his yellow teeth.
"You're way off the mark, missie. This ain't no re-hearsal. It's a whole new sideshow. Now for old times sake, I suggest you get runnin'."
Daphne balled her fists in anger. "You know what? Forget this. I'm through getting chased around. You're not sucking me back into that stupid game." She took a bold step forward. "I already know who's really behind all this."
She grabbed hold of Grady's chin and yanked. Nothing happened. She tried again, struggling to get a firm grip on the hard slippery scales. She only succeeded in chipping a nail.
Grady laughed. A horrible sound. He turned suddenly, and his tail lashed out and whipped Daphne across the chest. All the breath whooshed out of her at once and her feet left the ground. Izzy caught her under the shoulders and stood her back up.
The tail had moved on all its own. It hadn't been able to do that before. Nothing but tough rubber attached to a faux-gatorskin costume.
"okay.." She wheezed. "so maybe you've made some upgrades to your suit."
"Hain't no lil man for you to unmask in here no more." Grady said. "See for yourself."
His mouth split open impossibly wide. A yawning black hole. He lunged for them.
Only Izzy's quick thinking saved the girls from being lunch. She ripped a fence post up out of the ground and jammed it the long way between the gator man's jaws. The rotten wood held just long enough before splintering for them to bolt past Grady up the road.
"How is this even possible!?" Daphne panicked. "Last time I saw him, he was just a normal guy."
Claws flashed in the shaded twilight. A felled tree crashed to the ground in front of them, cleanly severed from its base.
Another gator, this one plump with long brown locks, slithered over the log.
"Why, that's simple dearie. Nothin' but some wholesome all-American nanites."
Izzy elbowed Daphne. "You could've warned me there were two of them."
"Three." Daphne said.
Izzy drew a combat knife and threw it up into the treeline in the span of half an eyeblink.
"Yeowch!"
A scrawny gator who'd been lurking in the branches just above their heads crashed to the ground, clutching his bloodied face.
"My baby boy!" The plump gator shrieked. She barged past the girls, forgetting all about them as she rushed to the wounded monster's side.
"Lookit what she did, Ma!" He pouted.
When he removed his hand, they saw the knife lodged deep into his eye.
"How-" Daphne started.
"I've got tiger blood." Izzy said, as though it answered anything.
They vaulted over the log and hurried away from Gatorsburg fast as their legs could carry them. Daphne glanced behind her.
Ma Gator was still fussing over her son, but Grady wasn't so easily sidetracked.
"Oh, man up Gunther." He yanked the knife free---Gunther's eyeball along with it. "Ya cain't keep babyin' him Greta." He chastised Ma Gator. "Knives can't hurt us anymore no how."
Sure enough, Daphne watched as Gunther's empty eyesocket slowly filled back in with milky white.
"Oh, yuck!!" She gagged. "I'm gonna be sick."
"Better now than in the back of someone's car." Izzy suggested. "That's how I got thrown out of a pickup truck doing 85 on Route 50."
They could see the grey salvation of the concrete highway barrier just a hundred metres up ahead.
Easy for Izzy, maybe. But Daphne was in socks and shouldering a 20 pound camera.
Behind them, three sets of heavy footfalls pounded like thunder. Grady led the pack, muscling over thick rooted mangrove trees like domino tiles.
Daphne tried to force her dead legs to keep pace, but her left foot landed wrong, and she slipped on the unforgiving mud. She cried out, eliciting a feral hoot from the pursuing Gator family.
Izzy spun around. Against all self-preservation, she doubled back and helped Daphne up to her feet. She shoved her hobbling towards the highway, but it was clear they weren't outrunning the Gators with her twisted ankle.
Izzy stopped abruptly. She turned, facing the oncoming danger, and squared up into a judo squat.
"What are you doing?!" Daphne said. She tugged at Izzy's sleeve. "Come on, we have to run!"
Izzy flashed her a manic grin.
"I came here to wrestle a gator, didn't I? You better give me some space."
"You're crazy."
"Don't I know it!"
Daphne ran into traffic waving her arms as frantically as she could.
"Hey! Hey!! My friend needs help!"
Cars blared their horns and swerved around her. A few drivers leaned out their windows to flip her off, but none seemed inclined to talk.
Okay, fine. She'd be more direct.
Daphne scanned the road and found a black stretch limo. She could work with a limo. Limos meant important people, and important people had bodyguards with guns and tasers.
"Izzy, if I become the first real ghost I'm SO haunting you."
She clenched her eyes shut and threw herself in front of the limo. It screeched to a halt a dog's breath from turning her into a pancake.
The driver got out. He was wearing a black hood over his head.
Oh no. Oh no no no no no.
She had stopped the one group of celebrities who could legally shoot her in the face for looking at them funny.
Florida Governor Nathan Explosion poked his head out the window.
"Hey. Dickhead. Why'd the car stop?"
"It is the woman's doing my lord." The Klokateer said. "Master Offdensen had commanded we avoid getting any more fan blood on company vehicles. Shall I execute her for her impunity?"
Nathan studied her.
"No. She's a redhead. I'm pretty sure it's bad luck to kill those."
"Ooh, a chick!? Did we hit a crazy chick?"
"I wants to sees!"
His bandmates squabbled behind him for a spot at the window.
"Everybody shut up." Nathan barked. "Okay, crazy chick. I'll hear you out. Which one of us do you want to bang and/or stalk and murder?"
Daphne blinked. "What? No. Ew. You have to listen to me! My friend is getting mauled by a--"
The highway barrier exploded outwards as Grady Gator came barrelling through it. Izzy sat astride his broad shoulders like a rodeo cowgirl. She had somehow gotten her knife back, and stabbed frantically at his eyes faster than they were able to regenerate.
Grady managed to buck her loose with a violent thrash. Still blinded and dazed from running headfirst through concrete, he lurched across the lanes ramming aside cars before his own momentum overcame his balance and he came crashing down, crumpling the limo's bonnet and flattening the Klokateer driver into fine paste.
"--that." Daphne finished weakly.
Nathan's eyes gleamed with pure excited awe.
"Brutal."
It was enough undesirable attention to make you lose count of how many towers you'd already walked by. An educated guess told you 'a lot.' Each new tower was more heavily fortified than the last. The final two before the front gate bristled with so many gun barrels and razorwire that they resembled big prickly cactuses.
It occurred to you as you flashed your government ID at the gatehouse that this was your first time in a proper prison.
You didn't count the KND's Antarctic base. Sure, they might've played at being a big house but at the end of the day they were a bunch of little brats doing just that. Playing. All their ideas about carceral punishment came from cartoons and the odd grown up movie the braver ones snuck into. Your brief but humiliating stay in one of their holding cells felt more like a bad summer camp.
Adult prison was a serious place for serious people to mete out the punishments society demanded for reprobates who couldn't hack the nine-to-five button and tie life like everybody else.
You'd think that'd mean you felt right at home. You didn't.
You'd expected raucous shouting, metal cups banging bars, a fight if it was a bad day. Heck! Maybe some inappropriate (but nonetheless flattering) comments about your tight butt. You were surprised by just how… mundane it all was.
The atmosphere was too quiet. Too much like Pappy's house. You walked as quietly as you could for fear the slightest noise might earn you a scolding.
Men in orange uniforms shuffled about in lines down bland hallways while more of those square-bodied guards prodded them along with bored glares and barked instructions. Everybody, even the colorful ones who had more prison tats than bare skin, seemed like they were dragging themselves along by a string. The only thing that seemed to stir these men from their tedium were the moments of small meanness that passed between them. A muttered insult. A passing shove. Even something in the eyes. You got the sense a real fight would actually break the tension built by all these little daily cruelties.
In your world, when somebody hated something, they got it all out in a bombastic blaze of fire and thematic weaponry. Here, it just stewed. It didn't seem like the kind of place the Count belonged.
Nevertheless, some of the inmates stuck out like sore thumbs as "Sooper" types. You assumed of the villainous variety, but what with the public's persistent misrecognition of you, maybe first impressions weren't so reliable these days. Some of them mingled with the normal inmates without differentiation---a one-armed man made out of TV static sat at a table full of skinheads. Others stuck to themselves in small clusters, like the small cadre of fanged orcs straight out of Tolkein.
Even with all the odd ducks peppering the crowd you spotted the pencil neck and slicked black hair you were looking for.
"THERE."
You pointed your great big shadowy finger at Count Spankulot.
"THAT'S my VAMPIRE."
Your escorting guard grunted and sidled off to go collect him.
It hadn't been easy tracking him down. You'd have to lean pretty hard on those OSI buddies of yours. Especially after they already cleaned up the mess with Charmcaster. The government seemed to think publicising the locations of dangerous inmates was a bad idea. On that point, you had to agree, but whatever bad press he'd gotten, you knew Spankulot wouldn't hurt a fly. Well. Not unless that fly had talked back to its parents.
As you pondered what on the GOSH-DARN planet Earth could've landed him in here, the guard returned.
"He's still finishing his lunch. We'll have him meet you in visitation, Mr. Patriarch--er, Father. Sir. And, uh, might I add, big fan of your work."
"Pardon?"
"Oh, you know, the big war in the North. Lost contact with my brother when the Gems took Montreal. Damn shame. You gave them hell, though. I appreciate that."
Oh right, the whole 'Sooperhero' thing. You blinked, a little uncertain. This sort of situation was getting more commonplace but it didn't make it any less weird for you. You fidgeted with your pipe, avoiding eye contact.
"WELL, shucks I just did WHAT any AMERICAN citizen with INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS and unexplained SOOPER-powers would'a DONE."
He smiled. Thank goodness he bought it, 'cause you sure as heck didn't. You don't think you'll ever get used to putting on that good-guy act, but as long as the OSI were sponsoring your little field trip, you had to, in Colonel Gathers' words, "Quit your bitching and square those pansy shoulders like they fit a cape."
"Visitation's down here to the left." The guard makes back for the hallway you entered from.
"I'll catch up with you."
He hesitated. Then shrugged. "You're the war hero."
You watched Spankulot finish draining the lifeblood from his juice box before walking his still mostly full tray over to the trash can. One of the orcs stood up in his way.
"Not hungry today Spanker?"
Spankulot kept his head down and didn't answer.
The orc leaned a burly green arm around Spankulot's shoulders.
"Thought I told you to lose the fangs. There's only room for one MC what dresses up like monsters, and the Wild Brood called dibs. This imitation ain't too flattering."
"Baht they don't come off!" Spankulot protested weakly. "They… They are a part of my Wampire curse."
The orc made a show of clutching his heart. "Woah, a real method actor! Maybe the Spankers oughta give up bikes and try out with Vince Van Ghoul."
The rest of the orcs snickered. Heads were starting to turn, other prisoners stopping what they were doing to see if things got interesting.
The orc ringleader gave Spankulot a sharp dig in the ribs, causing him to drop his tray.
"Alright pal. Fun's fun, but let's rap serious for a minute. Maybe you think you're off the hook 'cause now the Brood's rumbling with the One Eyed Snakes steada your sorry excuse for a gang, but I've still got time to do a little percussion dentistry if you've got so much trouble with those pointy teeth of yours."
Surely the Count wasn't gonna take that… right? He'd paddled peoples' butts off for less!
You thought about intervening. But no! What kind of faith would that show to your old colleague? So instead you waited, quietly rooting for him to stand up for himself.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He never did.
The spank-happy vampire sat meekly before you, his gloved hand cradling his bruised jaw. His scrawny neck dipped down in a hunch, looking at his lap as guiltily as a death row inmate. He'd always been a skinny guy, but the ill-fitting prison orange made him look downright malnourished in contrast to the macabre elegance of his usual black cloak. Even his Bela Lugosi haircut had a few greased hairs out of place.
You found it difficult to reconcile this wretched creature with your mental image of Count Spankulot. Where was the terror that slapped in the night? Where was that cowled crusader of corporal discipline, the bane of naughty children everywhere?
Back when it was just you and the KND and things were so much simpler, he'd been one of the greats. Maybe a place or two below you on the old Soopervillain threat level.
And where had that gotten him?
You still couldn't believe you had to step in on his behalf a few minutes ago, prying those green-skinned jerk-bags off of the Count before they could beat the rest of his pale face purple.
It was simply inconceivable to you to imagine someone so strong… so…
Miserable.
Kinda made you fear a little for yourself. But right now, Spankulot was the one who needed your concern. You crossed your arms expectantly. But the Count said nothing. Did nothing. He just sat there, silently. You turned up the heat by raising one of your fatherly eyebrows. STILL nothing! For crying out loud, normally you had to put in this kind of effort to get your Soopervillains to stop running their mouths!
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath. Where to start? How about the obvious.
"Spankulot."
The Count jumped just a little on hearing his name. Figured. In prison, any attention was bad attention.
"Would you EXPLAIN how ON Earth you wound up HERE?"
Spankulot made eye contact for a moment, looking as if he were trying to gather his train of thought. But it was clear he'd lost his ticket.
"I… I don't know…"
You sighed again.
"YOU don't KNOW? Nuh uh! I already used THAT one! Get your own gosh DARN line."
He flinches away from your rebuke like it's a scorching beam of sunlight.
"I really don't! I svear to you, Father, I do not! I did naht even spank an innocent child this time! She had been a naughty, naughty girl!"
You gave the vampire a scowl, narrowing your glowy yellow eyes into your patented 'Very Disappointed' look.
"WHAT happened to you, MAN?!"
You're not really sure whether you're asking what sent him to prison, or what made him into the cringing mess you see before you.
Truth be told, you knew why Count Spankulot had wound up here. Evidently, times had changed, and unlike the good ol' days, it was no longer kosher for creatures of darkness to deliver corporal punishment to other peoples' children. No matter how much they deserved it. The courts had mistaken an innocent vampire for a different kind of predator. At least, that was how Skips had explained it.
From Hunter Gathers, you gleaned that Spankulot had gotten nabbed during an attempted 'retribution' against some tu-tu wearing brat. Unfortunately for the Count, said brat had turned out to be Mandork's baby sister. Long story short, a specially built Van Hellsing bot had left him staked & gift wrapped on the steps of the county courthouse. Along with a lawsuit in triplicate and camera evidence of him breaking & entering a house to assault a minor.
Needless to say, without Guild backing, Count Spankulot was thrown to the werewolves. The judge hit him with the book hard enough to chip his fangs, but none of that explained his current state. He'd had legal trouble in the past, and that hadn't made him any less of a menace.
"I came here… Because of the Sp… Spanking." He cringed as he said what used to be his favorite word. "The doctors, they told me that it vas… wrong… That… I vas not right in the head…" Spankulot said, finally speaking up. His gloves balled up, straining as he raised them off the table. It was like even talking about spanking was causing him anguish.
"I… I cannot do such a thing again. It is…" He recoils, revulsion filling his face as sweat beads on his brow. "Spanking.. It is.. Unnatural. Revolting! Repulsive! Such filth.. I do not- I can not ever s… do it again! So many innocent children, punished by such dirty, filthy hands!"
Spankulot? Not spanking? Well, that wasn't going to fly. Mostly because he'd have to change his name. But also because he wasn't acting like himself. And if he had to change, then that might mean--
It was time to switch tactics. Straightening your non-existent tie you adopted a more relaxed posture. You were old friends. Why not remind him of that?
"So YOU'RE gonna go cold turkey? DON'T be crazy, SPANKULOT. That's YOUR thing. You SPANK!. Who ELSE is gonna PADDLE those brats?"
Each time you said the S word he cringed a little more into himself. You tried harder.
"COME OOOON, don'tcha remember all the GOOD times? Like in CAIRO? EH? When we SPANKED Sector E across the SAND dunes? Or THAT TIME in LOUISIANA? When we had all those Voudou NERD - ZOMBIES after us? If YOU didn't spank them, then WHO knows what would have happened?"
Despite your best attempt at lightening the mood, your frustration only grows as Count Spankulot slammed his hands over his pointed ears, his whole body tensing up like a coiled spring.
"Stop it! Stop saying that word!" He shook his head violently back and forth. "I said no more! What we did in those days was wrong! I am the one who deserves the punishment! ME! I have been the baht boy!"
"WELL of course you're the BAT boy, you're the vampi-"
Spankulot jerks forward, out of his seat, cutting you off mid-sentence.
"That is naht vhat I meant!" He trembled violently in place. So much pent up energy in that scrawny little frame, and no idea where it should go. "The naughty must be punished! But if punishing naughty people is naughty, then my whole life's purpose has been tainted! I belong in here. We all do. Because our kind have nahthing more to offer. The big fat zero."
You flashed back to your not-so-pleasant chat with Moltar. How he led you in circles about being evil for a greater good. How frustrated you felt, being unable to explain yourself. Being unable to respond. Maybe for the first time, you felt a pang of sympathy for Count Spankulot in place of revulsion for how far he'd fallen.
"Listen, pal. I don't KNOW who or WHAT got into that greasy little HEAD of yours, but we're not the ones who're screwed up. We don't obey any POWERS THAT BE! We ARE the powers that BE! We're the grown ups for pete's sake! WE make the RULES. NOT the other way AROUND."
You struggled to piece together the right words to convey the nagging unease you've felt since your moonbase coma with this new world you'd woken up to.
"Sure. I'll admit IT."
You begin, the truth cloying the back of your throat like an annoying loogie.
"SOMETHING has changed. And as much as I HATE to admit that I'm NOT blind. But nobody asked US! OUR way worked JUST FINE, thank-you-very-much!" You glared Spankulot down, who in turn sat back in his seat, his anger vanishing as yours arrived.
"Back in the good ol' DAYS, you were the straight shooter. Sure, maybe all that moralizing JUNK got on my NERVES, but you had a code, dang it. If MR. BOSS and MR. FIZZ and WINK and FIBB wanna turn traitor, FINE. IF STICKYBUN wants to give in to some kinda pirate mid-life crisis, the BIG jerk can go for it. What ever. If THE SOOPREME LEADER OF THE WHOLE ANKLE BITING K.N.D. wants to tell ME to grow up, FINE! I can HOLD down the fort myself! But you can't quit. NOT. you. 'Cause if now YOU'RE saying it was all for nothing, then maybe there really IS something wrong with me!"
It slipped out faster than your brain had time to process it. Everything blanks.
You quickly scrambled for another line. Bluster. Rant on autopilot. Get MAD. Mad was good.
Mad meant it was HIS fault.
"So.. SO you can't give up. I just won't LET you."
"But… I-"
"NO. BUTS. Just BUTTS."
At this point, you were no longer sure who exactly you were mad at. Whether it was Moltar for dropping you from space, Stickybeard for leaving you, 362 for lecturing you, this loser vampire for somehow dragging the admission out of you, or yourself. But Spankulot was in the room, and you certainly weren't ready to get angry with yourself.
You took a breath. Looked him dead in the eye and gave him one last chance to come to his senses and make everything right again.
"No. No more." He shuddered. "I heard about you burning those treehouses. Vhat sort of things do you think they will resort to now that you've cornered them like rats?! Vhat kind of children do you think you're making out of them?" He hesitated. "You and I are both old enough to remember… To remember where we came from."
You saw red.
"YOU."
You began, jutting a finger with all the authority you could muster at the vampire.
"Are. Going. TO. Spank. Those. Brats. And we're gonna MAKE it just like things USED to be!"
"No!"
"YOU. Don't. GET to SAY. No. You think YOU'RE naughty? Well HERE'S a news FLASH! The whole WORLD'S gone NAUGHTY! "
"But if I--"
"And WHAT do you DO to NAUGHTY people?"
"NO!"
WHAP!
You slammed the flat of your hand against the table. Fire flared out from under your palm. The sound of it rang out across the empty visitation room. The reaction was immediate and visceral. Spankulot's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, fangs bared in a snarl. He fell back off of his seat, scrabbling backwards and clutching for his chest.
"YOU SPANK 'EM!"
Spankulot suddenly gasped. His body convulsed and he flopped like a fish against the black and white linoleum. Your own heart skipped a beat, anger draining into panic. Something was wrong. All you'd wanted was to shock him back to normal.
Hot anger drained to cold fear. You stepped closer, pushing the table aside. What was it? A seizure? A panic attack? Garlic allergy!?!
The guard watching from the doorway started. Somebody let out a cry of alarm. You felt like your head was underwater. You could almost swear you heard a keening metallic ringing in your ears.
Unfortunately, you didn't have any time to think of what to do. In a split second, you watched as Count Spankulot's head snapped to look at you, bones creaking from the strain. His arm jerked towards you, stretching unnaturally far, delivering a powerful open handed slap to the chest.
The next thing you knew you were crashing through the visitation room's bulletproof glass window. Shards sprayed out in all directions, shortly joined by concrete shrapnel as the momentum of the mighty spank drove you halfway through the opposite wall. Stumbling to your feet, you pulled yourself over to the shattered window, you peered in.
"Spankulot?"
A wretched shriek was the only response you get. You could hear the snapping and re-fusing of bones. That metallic pulse from before bea faster like a robot's heartbeat.
With a sick crunch, a boney talon hooked over the lip of the table and stabbed deep into the metal. Followed by another.
And another.
And another.
And another.
A hand. Bursting from the shredded remains of one of Spankulot's white gloves.
Black bat wings followed, upon which fur grew in shaggy tufts, bristling out of tears in the prison-orange like weeds from sidewalk cracks. Long, bony protrusions form menacing spikes at the ends of each wing. A grotesque sight. But that was before you even saw the main mass.
It was tall, standing twice your height, at least. As it hauled itself over the desk, its torso was hidden under a cloak of black fur which continued down the length of its body to its legs. The cloak rippled and shuddered as its flesh shifted in a way that made you sick to your stomach. It wasn't done changing yet. Nowhere close.
What had that woman said?
He wasn't changing.
He was Evolving.
The beast looked up. You saw its mouth.
Thick and rubbery, it formed a proboscis tube that squirmed about in a slow, exploratory movement. It pointed directly at you. You got a good look at the inside of it.
The teeth.
The teeth.
Ring after ring of them lined the inside of the tube-mouth as far back as you could see.
You felt your gut do a triple backflip belly flop as the monster that was your friend stalked towards you, drool flecking from its maw. The gruesome sight made your whole body go stiff: stuck somewhere between fight or flight watching it shamble closer and closer.
Its taloned toes dug divots into the floor with every step. Its breathing became heavy and labored as its body spasmed one more time---the mutations were finally stabilizing. Though nothing about what the Count had become was 'stable.'
It wasn't your first run-in with a monstrous transformation. Werepoodles. Gummy mummies. Heck, your own dad transformed people into Senior Citizombies. One time you'd turned into a jaguar for a week or so.
But all of those had been clean by comparison.
You'd never had to watch the bones snap and re-fuse beneath the skin.
No matter how hideous it was, something in there had been a person. So you had to try.
"S..Spankulot?"
You tried again timidly.
But it wasn't him.
The beast's slithering mouth coiled towards you in a rush of sudden momentum. The sound. It was honing in on the sound.
A half dozen taloned forelimbs unfurled from its main body. What was it doing? Was it trying to clamber through the window? The limbs ended in such splayed and awkward digits you couldn't imagine they'd be any good for movement.
You didn't have to wait long for your answer.
"Patriarch, look out!"
Your escort guard burst through the door, pistol at the ready. Gunshots echoed throughout the visitation room. An entire clip's worth of lead emptied into the EVO. He may as well have blown spitwads.
With a heart-stopping screech of anger, the Spankubeast backhanded you down the hallway. You sprawled across the floor, sparks of pain and alarm finally thawing the cold shock that'd left you rooted to the spot.
You shook the stars from your vision just in time to see the guard fumbling to load another clip. He didn't get the chance to use it. The EVO lunged. It closed the distance with a speed unfit for its ungainly body. In a flash, it seized him by the collar with one hand and bent the grown man onto the floor.
You could only watch in disbelief as the EVO's forelimbs delivered a machine gun blow of rapid fire slaps until the very floor threatened to give way beneath the force of its brutal retribution.
You were back on your feet and blazing hot in a fraction of a second. A gout of searing flame plowed into the Spankubeast like a fiery battering ram, sending it skidding across the room, claws clicking for purchase on the tile. Its back impacted one of the heavy steel tables, warping it and two more behind it in half before it finally came to a stop.
"Stay Down."
You raced to the wounded guard's side while the monster was still groaning. You reached down to help him up---but stopped short of touching him.
Because you saw what was happening to his teeth. Growing longer and sharper by the second.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Sunset. An overgrown path winds through the muggy Florida Everglades. Spanish moss dangles overhead from low hanging mangrove branches. Way too low, hanging actually. Plech. Ptooey. Shouldn't've driven a convertible."
"Um.. Should I still be filming?"
Izzy turned herself around to face her passenger, continuing to steer blindly with her feet.
"Well, DUH!! It's a documentary. That means we've gotta document the entire experience, Daffy."
"It's Daphne." Said Daphne.
"Just keep it rolling. We're getting some great establishing shots."
"Izzy--"
"Might have to dub over the exposition. I don't have a very narrator-y voice. D'ya think Morgan Freeman's on Cameo?"
"Izzy STOP THE CAR!"
Daphne lunged for the wheel. She needn't have. Izzy wrenched it into a hard left a split second before impact with the wooden sign staked inconveniently into the center of the road. They skidded to a drifting halt, kicking up a spray of muck and nearly lurching Daphne over the side of the vehicle..
Daphne tried to steady her thumping heart. She shook out her frazzled hair. Izzy re-frazzled hers.
"Well you didn't need to shout." Izzy chastised her. "Also, it's not legally a car. It's an auto rickshaw. I'm not allowed to drive cars or bikes anymore, but the judge forgot about three wheelers. Also also…" She hopped out, hands on her hips and heedless of the mud sucking at her sandals. "We're here!"
She gestured to the signpost.
GATORSBURG - THE GATOR CAPITAL OF THE WORLD!
POPULATION: here somebody had nailed over with a fresh plank of plywood. Painted on that was the word SCRAM.
"Ha! That's not a number." Izzy snorted.
Their vehicle's engine made a similarly guttural sound. Then it caught fire.
"Jeepers!" Daphne scrambled out just as fast as she could take off her heels. Fire was one thing, but no way was she losing perfectly good mary janes in that muck.
They watched the fire run its course.
"Whoops! There goes another one, haha." Izzy laughed. "I guess it didn't like the mud."
"Does this happen to most things you drive?" Daphne asked.
"I think I'm getting better." Said Izzy. "Usually they explode."
The short, wet walk into town took them past old farmhouses and fenceposts rotting in the ground where they stood. Down the road and atop a hill Daphne could make out the spooky silhouette of what she knew all too well to be the Drowsy Gator Hotel.
"Gatorsburg." She let herself shudder. "Like it wasn't bad enough that Cleveland was full of phony monsters. You had to drag me back here."
"Oh, so you've been?" Izzy asked brightly. "That's great! You can show me all the best wrasslin' spots."
Daphne sighed. "I've been trying to tell you the whole time. There are no more gators in Gatorsburg. They hunted them all out for their skin like, twenty something years ago. All that are left are a bunch of counterfeiters." She caught herself. "Well. Were."
A pang of guilt welled up inside her. It wasn't like the town was ever going to bounce back, but by solving that particular mystery she had killed its one last source of income. Illegal or not.
"Oh." Izzy frowned. She rarely did that. "But I've already done a saltwater crocodile! I can't just NOT do an alligator. That's like only eating one peanut and leaving the other one in the shell! At this rate by the time I've met and conquered every predator on the continent I'll be in my thirties."
Daphne awkwardly patted her shoulder. "Heyyy, don't be that way. There's a whole sunshine state full of wrestlable wildlife. I'm sure we can find some other disease infested swamp where you can live out your delusional bucket list."
She pulled Izzy back towards the main road.
"C'mon. We can walk back to a state highway and hitchhike somewhere you can find your gator. And a shower."
"Oh now. Leavin' so soon?"
A huge hulking shape stepped out of the mangroves to block their path.
"I insist y'all stick 'round a lil longer for a bite."
Snaggle teeth leered down at them from a big green scaly maw framed by a shock of dripping black hair. Swamp water ran down the rest of the creature's elongated body in slimy rivulets, beading in between the ridges on its hump back.
"Woohoo!" Izzy cheered. "For a second you really had me going there. No gators in Gatorsburg, pshaw! What a kidder!"
"I'm not the one kidding you." Daphne crossed her arms and made a sour face. "Really? Which one are you again? Grady? You can't expect people to believe the exact same grift after we already unmasked you. For a second I was actually feeling bad for you guys, but I guess you'll never learn your lesson."
Grady Gator leered. Daphne could count all of the (what she hoped were) fish bones stuck between his yellow teeth.
"You're way off the mark, missie. This ain't no re-hearsal. It's a whole new sideshow. Now for old times sake, I suggest you get runnin'."
Daphne balled her fists in anger. "You know what? Forget this. I'm through getting chased around. You're not sucking me back into that stupid game." She took a bold step forward. "I already know who's really behind all this."
She grabbed hold of Grady's chin and yanked. Nothing happened. She tried again, struggling to get a firm grip on the hard slippery scales. She only succeeded in chipping a nail.
Grady laughed. A horrible sound. He turned suddenly, and his tail lashed out and whipped Daphne across the chest. All the breath whooshed out of her at once and her feet left the ground. Izzy caught her under the shoulders and stood her back up.
The tail had moved on all its own. It hadn't been able to do that before. Nothing but tough rubber attached to a faux-gatorskin costume.
"okay.." She wheezed. "so maybe you've made some upgrades to your suit."
"Hain't no lil man for you to unmask in here no more." Grady said. "See for yourself."
His mouth split open impossibly wide. A yawning black hole. He lunged for them.
Only Izzy's quick thinking saved the girls from being lunch. She ripped a fence post up out of the ground and jammed it the long way between the gator man's jaws. The rotten wood held just long enough before splintering for them to bolt past Grady up the road.
"How is this even possible!?" Daphne panicked. "Last time I saw him, he was just a normal guy."
Claws flashed in the shaded twilight. A felled tree crashed to the ground in front of them, cleanly severed from its base.
Another gator, this one plump with long brown locks, slithered over the log.
"Why, that's simple dearie. Nothin' but some wholesome all-American nanites."
Izzy elbowed Daphne. "You could've warned me there were two of them."
"Three." Daphne said.
Izzy drew a combat knife and threw it up into the treeline in the span of half an eyeblink.
"Yeowch!"
A scrawny gator who'd been lurking in the branches just above their heads crashed to the ground, clutching his bloodied face.
"My baby boy!" The plump gator shrieked. She barged past the girls, forgetting all about them as she rushed to the wounded monster's side.
"Lookit what she did, Ma!" He pouted.
When he removed his hand, they saw the knife lodged deep into his eye.
"How-" Daphne started.
"I've got tiger blood." Izzy said, as though it answered anything.
They vaulted over the log and hurried away from Gatorsburg fast as their legs could carry them. Daphne glanced behind her.
Ma Gator was still fussing over her son, but Grady wasn't so easily sidetracked.
"Oh, man up Gunther." He yanked the knife free---Gunther's eyeball along with it. "Ya cain't keep babyin' him Greta." He chastised Ma Gator. "Knives can't hurt us anymore no how."
Sure enough, Daphne watched as Gunther's empty eyesocket slowly filled back in with milky white.
"Oh, yuck!!" She gagged. "I'm gonna be sick."
"Better now than in the back of someone's car." Izzy suggested. "That's how I got thrown out of a pickup truck doing 85 on Route 50."
They could see the grey salvation of the concrete highway barrier just a hundred metres up ahead.
Easy for Izzy, maybe. But Daphne was in socks and shouldering a 20 pound camera.
Behind them, three sets of heavy footfalls pounded like thunder. Grady led the pack, muscling over thick rooted mangrove trees like domino tiles.
Daphne tried to force her dead legs to keep pace, but her left foot landed wrong, and she slipped on the unforgiving mud. She cried out, eliciting a feral hoot from the pursuing Gator family.
Izzy spun around. Against all self-preservation, she doubled back and helped Daphne up to her feet. She shoved her hobbling towards the highway, but it was clear they weren't outrunning the Gators with her twisted ankle.
Izzy stopped abruptly. She turned, facing the oncoming danger, and squared up into a judo squat.
"What are you doing?!" Daphne said. She tugged at Izzy's sleeve. "Come on, we have to run!"
Izzy flashed her a manic grin.
"I came here to wrestle a gator, didn't I? You better give me some space."
"You're crazy."
"Don't I know it!"
Daphne ran into traffic waving her arms as frantically as she could.
"Hey! Hey!! My friend needs help!"
Cars blared their horns and swerved around her. A few drivers leaned out their windows to flip her off, but none seemed inclined to talk.
Okay, fine. She'd be more direct.
Daphne scanned the road and found a black stretch limo. She could work with a limo. Limos meant important people, and important people had bodyguards with guns and tasers.
"Izzy, if I become the first real ghost I'm SO haunting you."
She clenched her eyes shut and threw herself in front of the limo. It screeched to a halt a dog's breath from turning her into a pancake.
The driver got out. He was wearing a black hood over his head.
Oh no. Oh no no no no no.
She had stopped the one group of celebrities who could legally shoot her in the face for looking at them funny.
Florida Governor Nathan Explosion poked his head out the window.
"Hey. Dickhead. Why'd the car stop?"
"It is the woman's doing my lord." The Klokateer said. "Master Offdensen had commanded we avoid getting any more fan blood on company vehicles. Shall I execute her for her impunity?"
Nathan studied her.
"No. She's a redhead. I'm pretty sure it's bad luck to kill those."
"Ooh, a chick!? Did we hit a crazy chick?"
"I wants to sees!"
His bandmates squabbled behind him for a spot at the window.
"Everybody shut up." Nathan barked. "Okay, crazy chick. I'll hear you out. Which one of us do you want to bang and/or stalk and murder?"
Daphne blinked. "What? No. Ew. You have to listen to me! My friend is getting mauled by a--"
The highway barrier exploded outwards as Grady Gator came barrelling through it. Izzy sat astride his broad shoulders like a rodeo cowgirl. She had somehow gotten her knife back, and stabbed frantically at his eyes faster than they were able to regenerate.
Grady managed to buck her loose with a violent thrash. Still blinded and dazed from running headfirst through concrete, he lurched across the lanes ramming aside cars before his own momentum overcame his balance and he came crashing down, crumpling the limo's bonnet and flattening the Klokateer driver into fine paste.
"--that." Daphne finished weakly.
Nathan's eyes gleamed with pure excited awe.
"Brutal."
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Lifeandlice
Practitioning side-character
- Location
- Usa
Amazing writing, really exciting stuff happening even if I am sad to see him fall to Nanites like that.
Also props to Spanks for managing to become one of the most dangerous Evos I can remember off the top of my head.
Well, least we'll see how this all turns out. Who knows, maybe some good will spin from it.
Also props to Spanks for managing to become one of the most dangerous Evos I can remember off the top of my head.
Well, least we'll see how this all turns out. Who knows, maybe some good will spin from it.
- Location
- the Netherworld Dood
Well shit... Father is going to need to come to terms with heroism at this point.
His friend one whom he trusted above all else to have a moral center that he can trust no matter what just called them out and putting preassure on him caused him to snap.
*sigh* time to put the big boy pants on and do the adult thing... grow up and apologize
His friend one whom he trusted above all else to have a moral center that he can trust no matter what just called them out and putting preassure on him caused him to snap.
*sigh* time to put the big boy pants on and do the adult thing... grow up and apologize
Hoo boy. When it rains, it certainly pours.
Excellent chapter: I was on the edge of my seat all the way through.
Excellent chapter: I was on the edge of my seat all the way through.
- Location
- USA
That's an oof for Spankulot. With Rex MIA, there is no way to Cure an EVO. And with him being self replicating... I dont think Contain is on the board.
Travler66
Let her name echo in song!
- Location
- Beyond
Thank you for the update @HellaCooltricks!
Man, poor Spankulot.
Also, NATHAN EXPLOSION! I swear I could hear his voice as I read his lines.
Man, poor Spankulot.
Also, NATHAN EXPLOSION! I swear I could hear his voice as I read his lines.
The high roll was to come out of what's about to happen (physically) unscathed.