'N' All Were Silent

[Houndoom_Lover]

I. Introduction


Congratulations, its a girl!
You've created life!
But you can't say it's alive
It's a Fetus. Looking up at you
With its blank eyes
Dull stare
Something’s missing
What could it be?
The D.N.A...no, superior
All the organs- second to none
How does one introduce oneself
to something that doesn't
walk or talk

[Houndoom_Lover]

II. A Challenge

Somewhere, on an island not to far from Australia, something…horrific, was taking place. People worked well into the night, the clinging and squeaking of glass tubes and rubber boots could be heard at a frantic fever if you only put your ear to the ground. Soon, it was ready, and the fruits of their labor sat on the single metal table in the laboratory. Sat there, like the top prize at a carnival game, sat there and floated in the glass tube filled with simulated womb juices. And a woman leaned over the jar, peering down into it. A few seconds would pass, and she’d make an attempt to stick a finger in the jar. But she would catch her self, yes, lean down once more, and look into the jar with her dead dead oh so dead eyes.

There was something else dead, this creature- she could see its heart beat, its skin so thin, she could see it breathe, it was so small, and yet- and yet it still looked dead to her. This rotten creature, with its raw skin, floating in this jar. It disgusted her, down to her very unfeeling marrow. What was is it…? What-

Just then one of her laboratory works wrapped his unworthy rubber gloved hands around her precious jar. She lunged at the unsuspecting worker; his precious cargo came very close to slipping and crashing to the floor.

“D-Doctor,” The timid Philbert Navader stammered, trying to look anywhere but her eyes, those cold dead eyes. And speaking of cold and dead, he could feel her hands right through his acid-and-fire proof latex gloves.

“Something’s wrong,” Her lifeless voice raged, it was much too deep to be a female voice, but to feminine to be masculine, “Can’t you see? Something’s wrong!”

“Wh-what?” He could feel those horrible eyes probe his panicking face, looking for life to suck out of him. When he graduated he was a shoeing for a prim job like this, but on his first day, the other assistance said she took one of them at random and experimented on them. He thought then that they were just joking around- you know, to rattle him up a bit. Well he was rattled alright, he was rattled. He saw his life flash before his eyes. Navader was just eating a ham sandwich when Doctor Ticks interrupted his fear.

“What,” She said, her breathless words hissing through her teeth while Philbert’s teeth were chattering. He tried to pull away, screw that biogenetically superior fetus! He wanted out, he wanted to live! But he couldn’t pull back, she was just so insanely strong, so strong- tears were welding up in his eyes as his bowels where loosening, “Makes life?”

“C-arbon,” He started, his knees starting to buckle, “Hydrogen,” That was all he got out, before his legs collapsed underneath him, tears streaming down his face, his hands slipped out from under the Doctor’s. The poor man collapsed at the good Doctor’s feet. She showed no remorse as she stepped over this man.

“Terminate N.vader,” Doctor Tick’s said heartlessly to the laboratory assistant who was manning the nearest control levels, “And take this.”

She slammed the jar on the top ledge; the man controlling the panel jerked his head in the jars direction. Another lab lackey picked it up, and went away with it. The man looked up at the screen, his beady black eyes narrowed.

“Your perception is great, Doctor Ticks,” He started, turning a knob. One of the block bars on the screen, the red one, went up for a few minutes before lowering, “There is something wrong.” The Doctor made a thin noise for him to continue.

“The brain waves are limited to only basic life…parameters,” He continued, adjusting the knobs some more, “At this point, we should be getting something more.”

“Give it time,” She snapped. The elder assistant looked up as the Doctor swayed away, hunching over. Laboratory assistances moved out of her way as she came. Her strange walk stopped as she came to the main panel- the one that had the big red button, you know the one. Her hand disappeared into a hole in the machine, taking out a plastic face mask, and putting it upon her rotting face.

There was quiet, minus the clinking of the laboratory equipment, the squeaking of the rubber, and the revving sounds of the oxygen tank.

“Doctor,” The elder assistant said in the working silence of the room, “I’m not a religious man but…”

Jeanette Ticks would have said ‘But what,’ but was a little busy, so she just rounded her shoulders, and breathed deeper.

“But I….” He wasn’t sure how to form these next words, he stopped twisting the knobs of the machine, “….Do you believe in…Soul, Doctor?”

“Who says that there’s a soul?” Doctor Ticks’ lowered the mask, just for a moment. Her words, in a groan so deep that it sunk into the tiles of the clean laboratory. She placed the mask back on, pondering this.

Again, work silence.

“It’s ready Doctor,” Another lab assistant squeaked, timidly. Afraid that he’d be the next victim to her wrath, “Shall we…?”

“Continue,” She replied, lowering the mask. She let it go, and with a snap it went back to where it belonged underneath the main board. Her assistances worked well, they did, efficient. They moved like shadows in the background of her mind.

“Where does one get a soul?” She said to the oldest shadow not even bothering turning around.

This question caught her oldest assistance off guard; he looked flustered at his boss for a moment.

“You-you don’t,” He stammered, knowing full well that this answer would not please her. She staggered his way, like she just came up out of the grave. He gripped his level adjusting knobs for security. It took her a while to get there, but when she did, she grabbed him by his lab coat, yanking him towards her.

“Then I’ll create a soul then!” Doctor Ticks roared in his face. The aged man looked into her cold dead eyes, trying to push fear out of his mind. She’s just an animal- treat her like a beast, she can smell fear-

“But,” The man said breathlessly, “Doctor…you can’t do that.”

“Watch me,” She said, turning her back on the poor lab assistant, her lab coat swirling like an angry snow tornado.

The oldest lab assistant breathed a silent breath of relief, having years in practice in it. The sooner this was over, the better. He heard the Doctor storm out of the room, slamming the door to her office behind her.

[mistysakura]

The beginning really caught my eye. 'Congratulations, it's a girl!' is so fluffy and pink and Hallmark-like, but things get inhuman and creepy very quickly... it's a great effect. It's intriguing to think about what makes a soul, and whether Doctor Ticks' mission is doomed from the start... You never know... Would a manufactured soul (if they were indeed manufacturable) be different from a 'normal' soul? Would it be like the soul of a clone? Would it take on characteristics of its maker?

Already, Doctor Ticks is characterised well, with her rotting face (although I took that literally at first, hehe) and inhumanity. The bit about her voice being too deep to be female and too feminine to be male threw me off for a second though. I guess because she's so inhuman, it's weird to even classify her as male or female, and that point gets through, but I wouldn't have thought she was 'too feminine', judging by her character. That personality and the tension between her and the other lab workers can't bode well...

Likening the foetus to a top prize at a carnival game is a great image, because it shows Ticks' disregard for it as a human being, just regarding it is an achievement to be put on a pedestal. Perhaps it could be described further, though -- what characteristics, observations that would normally make people warm and fuzzy about a baby are missing? What is it that makes the foetus so grotesque, so dead? Also, there were some misused words; 'assistance' is the offer of help, while 'assistants' are the people who help Doctor Ticks. And in the third paragraph 'works' should be 'workers'.

Great start; I'll keep reading!

[Gavin Luper]

The opening caught my attention: I wondered why you'd call a poem "Introduction". ^_^ Then I realised it was the start of a longer piece.

The notion of superior DNA and created/cloned people reminded me a lot of the movie Gattaca - have you seen it at all? It's got Uma Thurman, Ethan Hawke and Jude Law in it I think. The story is about a futuristic world where a eugenics program decides the social class of humans - it's pretty cool.

Anyway ... I'm digressing slightly.

Like Ada, the description of the voice threw me off, though for me it was more because it just sounded a bit odd for a 'lifeless' voice to 'rage'. You'd think an enraged voice would be full of life.

This is an interesting beginning for a fic, anyway. Already posing the big questions about artificially-created life forms and souls, which is always an engrossing topic. Doctor Ticks seemed like a really wretched creature; I'd hate to be working in that lab. The exaggeration of how dead her eyes look in the first paragraph felt a bit too much, however; maybe one less 'dead' would help there, or it could be the 'oh so...'.

Good job so far, mate. Cheers!

[Houndoom_Lover]

^w^

Nehehe! When I made this fanfiction, it didn't even have a title. I put it up just for kicks and giggles and wow! ^_^ I'm pleased that you all like how this starts out- Poem from top of my head goodness. On the topic of Introduction, Edgar Allen Poe has a great poem called that it's a top favorite of mind.

I've never seen Gattaca but I gutta wikipedia it now ^_^ That sounds good!

I can revamp that whole discription of Doctor Ticks- kill a few deads, fix that voice part. You alot will have to tell me how you feel after it though.

Thank you both for the reviewage! Hope you enjoy the next chapter as well!

Fixed the unfortunate inccorect wordage, thanks mistysakura ^_^






I've created a time paradox by posting this chapter here: (Fun fact, this post came after chapter one, but someone got merge happy)

II. A Challenge

Somewhere, under an island not to far from Australia, something…horrific, was taking place. People worked well into the night in this underground land. The clinging and squeaking of glass tubes and rubber boots could be heard at a frantic fever if you only put your ear to the ground. Soon, it was ready, and the fruits of their labor sat on the single metal table in the laboratory. Sat there, like the top prize at a carnival game, sat there and floated in the glass tube filled with simulated womb juices. And a woman leaned over the jar, peering down into it. A few seconds would pass, and she’d make an attempt to stick a finger in the jar. But she would catch herself, yes, lean down once more, and look into the jar with her eyes as dead as road kill in the middle of July.

There was something else dead, this creature- she could see its heart beat, its skin so thin, she could see it breathe, it was so small, and yet- and yet it still looked dead to her. This rotten creature, with its raw skin, floating in this jar. It disgusted her, down to her very unfeeling marrow. What was is it…? What-

Just then one of her laboratory workers wrapped his unworthy rubber gloved hands around her precious jar. She lunged at the unsuspecting worker; his precious cargo came very close to slipping and crashing to the floor.

“D-Doctor,” The timid Philbert Navader stammered, trying to look anywhere but her eyes, those cold dead eyes. And speaking of cold and dead, he could feel her hands right through his acid-and-fire proof latex gloves.

“Something’s wrong,” Her lifeless voice raged like gravel in a blender set to frappe, a voice much too deep to be a female voice, but too feminine to be male, like those demonic recordings on those scary reality T.V shows that the history channel sometimes runs, “Can’t you see? Something’s wrong!”

“Wh-what?” He could feel those horrible eyes probe his panicking face, looking for life to suck out of him. When he graduated, he was a shoeing for a prim job like this, but on his first day, the other assistants said she took one of them at random and experimented on them. He thought, then, that they were just joking around- you know, to rattle him up a bit. Well he was rattled alright, he was rattled. He saw his life flash before his eyes. Navader was just eating a ham sandwich when Doctor Ticks interrupted his fear.

“What,” She said, her breathless words hissing through her teeth while Philbert’s teeth were chattering. He tried to pull away, screw that biogenetically superior fetus! He wanted out, he wanted to live! But he couldn’t pull back, she was just so insanely strong, so strong- tears were welding up in his eyes as his bowels where loosening, “Makes life?”

“C-arbon,” He started, his knees starting to buckle, “Hydrogen,” That was all he got out, before his legs collapsed underneath him, tears streaming down his face, his hands slipped out from under the Doctor’s. The poor man collapsed at the good Doctor’s feet. She showed no remorse as she stepped over this man.

“Terminate N.vader,” Doctor Tick’s said heartlessly to the laboratory assistant who was manning the nearest control levels, “And take this.”

She slammed the jar on the top ledge; the man controlling the panel jerked his head in the jars direction. Another lab lackey picked it up, and went away with it. The man looked up at the screen, his beady black eyes narrowed.

“Your perception is great, Doctor Ticks,” He started, turning a knob. One of the block bars on the screen, the red one, went up for a few minutes before lowering, “There is something wrong.” The Doctor made a thin noise for him to continue.

“The brain waves are limited to only basic life…parameters,” He continued, adjusting the knobs some more, “At this point, we should be getting something more.”

“Give it time,” She snapped. The elder assistant looked up as the Doctor swayed away, hunching over. The others moved out of her way as she came. Her strange walk stopped as she came to the main panel- the one that had the big red button, you know the one. Her hand disappeared into a hole in the machine, taking out a plastic face mask, and putting it upon her rotting face.

There was quiet, minus the clinking of the laboratory equipment, the squeaking of the rubber, and the revving sounds of the oxygen tank.

“Doctor,” The elder assistant said in the working silence of the room, “I’m not a religious man but…”

Jeanette Ticks would have said ‘But what,’ but was a little busy, so she just rounded her shoulders, and breathed deeper.

“But I….” He wasn’t sure how to form these next words, he stopped twisting the knobs of the machine, “….Do you believe in…Soul, Doctor?”

“Who says that there’s a soul?” Doctor Ticks’ lowered the mask, just for a moment. Her words, in a groan so deep that it sunk into the tiles of the clean laboratory. She placed the mask back on, pondering this.

Again, work silence.

“It’s ready, Doctor,” Another lab assistant squeaked, timidly, afraid that he’d be the next victim to her wrath, “Shall we…?”

“Continue,” She replied, lowering the mask. She let the mask go, and with a snap it went back to where it belonged underneath the main board. Her assistants worked well, they did, efficient. They moved like shadows in the background of her mind.

“Where does one get a soul?” She said to the oldest shadow, not even bothering to turn around.

This question caught her oldest assistant off guard; he looked flustered at his boss for a moment.

“You-you don’t,” He stammered, knowing full well that this answer would not please her. She staggered his way, like she just came up out of the grave. He gripped his level adjusting knobs for security. It took her a while to get there, but when she did, she grabbed him by his lab coat, yanking him towards her.

“Then I’ll create a soul then!” Doctor Ticks roared in his face. The aged man looked into her cold dead eyes, trying to push fear out of his mind. She’s just an animal- treat her like a beast, she can smell fear-

“But,” The man said breathlessly, “Doctor…you can’t do that.”

“Watch me,” She said, turning her back on the poor lab assistant, her lab coat swirling like an angry snow tornado.

The oldest lab assistant breathed a silent breath of relief, having years in practice in it. The sooner this was over, the better. He heard the Doctor storm out of the room, slamming the door to her office behind her.

[Houndoom_Lover]

III. Creation

Doctor Jeanette Ticks let the sound of slammed door vibrate through her oval office before proceeding to the single desk in her said office. The room was dimly lit by stubby candles that were spread about her semi-round living quarters. It was her preferred method of lighting anything, by candles. There were so many kinds of candies. She had once been up in this nice little shop called Warm Glows- but that’s a story for another time.

She pulled open the first drawer in the pale wooden desk, and began to dig around in it. Flimsy papers filled with notes and scribbles laid on top, a pen or two, nothing that would perk anybodies interests. But Ticks seemed to be interested, as her hand traveled to the back of the drawer, running her fingers down the oaken panel, before it was disrupted by something.

Bingo!

Doctor Tick’s pressed the hidden button, letting the muscles of her face twist into a smile.

The bottom of the drawer rose up with a pop, like the secret panel it was. She looked over her bony shoulder, though she knew very well that no one was there, she just couldn’t help it. Carefully, Doctor Ticks pried the panel up, allowing the rest of the papers and pens sliding off it. Unimportant. At the true bottom of the drawer was an aged piece of paper, one that had seen the butts of many sandwiches and finger prints of many students (The ones that took Latin anyway). Tenderly, gently, as though fearful it would fall apart, she picked the paper up with the very tips of her fingers. She set the paper down, leaning back in her stiff wooden seat. Oh, this brought back memories…such memories.

“Can’t create a soul, eh?” She said to herself, kicking the simple wooden chair that matched the desk back, “Then I’ll do the next best thing.” And what was the next best thing, you ask? Well…

“Start it,” The eldest lab assistant said, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear him over the hum of largest machines that were never turned off. And so they started it, the lab assistants scuttled about, getting into position. Once all stations were manned, they began flipping and switching the power bottoms to their respective machines until the room was filled with the metallic buzzing of working machines.

Switched, and knobs- turned and thrown, like a scene from Mary Albright’s Frankenstein, electronic strings jumped from power antenna to power antenna, all they needed was a dark and stormy night. The head assistant, the oldest one with beady black eyes, switched a large on switch next to the tank their subject was floating in. Accelerated growth. Gotta love it.

He glanced at the tank before going back to his station, the slimy little creature- he couldn’t believe that it was ejected out of a woman. That he at once time looked so revolting and weak- the liquid bubbled in the tank as stems of nerves stretched out of the soft skin of the fetus. Gut-wrenching. The bones began to grow, much faster then the skin and mussels, any semblance of humanity was pried out of this thing in the tank. The head assistant yanked himself away from the tank, though it took some considerable will-power.

Power bars illumined screens over head, monitors checking heart beat, brain waves, and strange things like volume and malice count. The oldest lab assistant grinned, letting his eyes be cleaned and filled with this sight. This was going perfectly, as far as he was concerned, (and he was getting paid double). Just a little more, he told himself as he twisted a knob, as soon as conciseness was achieved- self awareness.

He was just about to call for a power down when the room shook. Earthquake? Nonsense, he practically built this underground hell house himself. Even the highest classification of earthquakes wouldn’t be able to shake this building, then…what?

Voices gurgled seemingly up from the ground.

“Hear….” Floated first, a dismissible word that caused a few worked to look around, already startled, holding on to the paneling of their stations.

“See…” Followed, louder this time.

“Taste. Be. Hear. See. Taste. Be-“ It started as this, and grew into more, as more voices joined in from God knows where. The voices hissed, whispered, roared, mixed and melded together. Soon, the words weren’t the only thing that was filling the room.

“Mr. Elroy!?” One of the younger assistants who was manning one corner of the front board cried in a panic, “What do we-“

“Keep your positions.” Mr. Elroy, the eldest assistant, ordered. He wasn’t about to let something shapeless control his operation-erm, Doctor Ticks’ operation. He held on to the sides of control box, his knuckles bone white.

The voices were getting louder and louder, as a darkness (Solid and yet, not) whipped around the room maddenly, sprung up from nowhere, licking at ground at first- as though in search of something. It sponged itself, quickly, across the vat that held the subject. What to do?! What to do?! There where no weapons allowed in the laboratory, however; he didn’t graduate at the top (near top) of his evil little class for nothing. Mr. Elroy pulled out a gun of sorts, a stun laser, and shot twice at the thing, which now was crept all away up the vat. The laser beam shot right through the darkness, cracking the vat. Pressure pushed against the glass, adding the hissing sounds of fluids to the collective sounds of the voices that now where yelling themselves hoarse.

“What the hell was that!?” Noris Thane, the regional electrician yelped as the liquid in the vat started to spray out the cracks. The voices- those voices. Someone had to shut them up! He clamped his hands over his ears but they just squirmed into his brain like wicked worms. Oh, why had he taken this job!? Those N scientists had a good deal, even if there was no insurance, dental care, or any pay what so ever. Crazy shit like this didn’t happen- this was too much!!

Noris Thane sprung from his post, racing to the door. But he would not reach it; the darkness was much too fast. N. Thane’s screams were added to the voices as the darkness devoured him.

Old Mr. Elroy continued to fire at the darkness, though it didn’t seem to have any effect. A female worker dashed out of her position, grabbing his arm as he took aim at the darkness on the vat again-

“Stop it!” She shouted of the sounds, “You’ll only cause the vat to-“

The vat exploded in a thousand glass shards, liquid spraying everywhere. Luckily, the subject appeared to be unharmed. Lucky…was it? The darkness swarmed the subject, just for a moment. Less then a blink of an eye. Then it was gone…

The subject sat at the bottom of the vat, wet, raw, covered in wires, and complete naked. Completely alive. Completely finished, thankfully. The room was back to normal. Silence. The workers looked at each other. Mr. Elroy took a deep breath before taking a hesitant step toward the now damaged vat, glass cracking under his boots. His finger gripped around the trigger, shaking. The subject sat there, still, arms together like a cat in the center, legs on either side, like it was going to strike.

“…Hey…” He started hesitantly. The subject did not reply, “Hey!” He said louder. The creature, the subject, jerked to this. It lifted it head up. Elroy stumbled back, slightly, he knew better then to show fear, but- Have you ever turned on the lights in the bathroom and saw nothing but the whites of your eyes for the briefest of a second? Well, this second was lasting a long time.

The subject let out a sound, an attempt at talking. That was a good sign. With a sigh, he returned in laser gun into his deep pocket.

“You there,” He gestured to the closest colleague to him.

“M-me?”

“Yes you!” Elroy snapped tiredly, he was getting too old for this, “Go get Doctor Ticks- Tell her nothing of what just happened!” He added quickly as the lackey exited.

“Elroy…?” The woman assistant inquired fearfully, taking a step towards the old man. His back was to her, he didn’t turn around.

“We have much to do today,” He replied, finally.

[Houndoom_Lover]

IIII. Smile

Ticks let the paper slip from her hand; all that was left of it was a burning corner. She felt…satisfied. Strangely satisfied. She was just about to sit down in the chair she had kicked back earlier when her door was knocked upon.

“Yes?” She inquired sharply, half way sitting, not ready to give up the idea of relaxation.

“D-Doctor,” The knocker started. She could practically feel him quivering on the other side, “Y-you’re n-needed in-in the-“

Doctor Ticks let out an awful sigh, standing up right all the way. Her joints, aged and damaged beyond repair, genetically or otherwise, cranked and creaked as she did so, lurching to her office door. With an ermph, she flung the door open, peering down at the poor Lab lackey set to get her. He was a bald man, with silly bolts in the sides of his head. An awkward looking thing, with a long face and thick eyebrows, and a gawking demeanor- degradation was a good thing when someone made you feel unsure about yourself.

“What do you want, N. Brio?” Ticks snapped as hard as possible, to kill any possibility of positively- or if you would go that far, affection. It was a good thing that no one knew. It was a better thing that no one would ever find out.

“T-they w-w-want you in th-th-th-“

“I know, I know,” She cut off the stammering man. Doctor Ticks gave an unearthly moan as she inhaled deeply, as though prepping herself for what was to come next, “Lead the way.”

And so he did. The Doctor and N. Brio navigated through the halls silently (if one ignored Ticks inability to breath quietly), side by side. Soon, they came to the right door, after passing many that looked identical to the one that N. Brio passed his key card through. The lights above the thing where you slide your card flashed for clearance, and then the door opened with a shwoosh.

The door opened like a parting sea to reveal a scene of utter chaos; a glass covered floor, machines that sparking from getting wet, wires full of deadly voltage exposed, and very freaked out under paid workers.

Mr. Elroy was standing by the raw creature who was making some sort awful gurgling noise. The man looked up sternly.

“Well, everything looks just the way I left it,” She wheezed as she entered the room. This was a good sign, she normally didn’t joke around unless she was in a good mood. Ticks left N. Brio’s side quickly, making a crunchy beeline to her new creation. The glass under her boots went creeek-craaack like many cockroaches in a motel bathroom.

Mr. Elroy’s face lighted up as Tick started to circle it like a proverbial vulture. It was almost like being at a birthday party, only without the screaming, blood, and peasant juices everywhere. He ventured to ask a question in this heart warming toasty moment.

“What are you going to name,” He paused here, it was quiet visibly female but just something inside him prevented him from saying her to the end of his sentence. He forced the last of his sentence out, “it?”

“Name it?!” Doctor Ticks replied incredulously, looking at him like he was daft, “I’m not going to name it!”

“You’re-,” He gave her such a look, a mind-was-just-about-to-pop kind of look, “You’re not!? Well, then what do you plan on doing with it might I ask?”

It all came out like vomit from a sick man. Mr. Elroy took a step back, wide eyed. How could he have slipped up like that?

“Breaking stuff, mainly,” She said dryly, stopping her pacing then. With two thin fingers she lifted the creature’s head up. Ticks looked over her creation‘s face before making a grunt of satisfaction, “Wouldn’t want to get attached, would I?”

“No,” Mr. Elroy said, resigned but bold- he couldn’t stop, was he going mad?, “You wouldn’t- you’re not the type.”

“You’re right,” Doctor Ticks replied, much to his surprise, “I’m not.”

Doctor Ticks leaned forward, and with her opposite hand pulled out a handgun from an orifice of her clothes. The Doctor pointedly ignored the stifled gasps of his co-workers as she shot old Mr. Elroy in the head. She placed her gun back in her pocket.

“Is Navader in containment?” She asked, calmly, as though she didn’t just shoot a man in the head. The blood from the poor man’s head had splattered all over her nice lab coat and the fresh face of the child that sat on the messy floor. The planes of her smooth face covered in unfortunate brain blood. Its skin looked so breakable, like a porcelain doll- and if she pressed hard enough, it would break. Doctor Ticks tried it just to be sure.

“Yes, Doctor.” A breathless lab assistant spoke just as the creature made a yelp of pain, making a failed attempt to snap at the inflector of pain. The Doctor just grabbed her little monster’s head.

“I-” She started, getting down to eye level with the thing, “am your Master. The creator of your existence, you proverbial….” Doctor Ticks stopped for a moment, looking up in thought. The creature made a cooing sniffling noise.

“M-m-mom?” N. Brio offered. Rather bold of the little rodent. Ticks was just about to turn on him when the creature repeated that word- or at least she thought it-she, did.

“What was that!?” Ticks said as menacingly as she possibly could, but the creature just looked up at her, unblinking. The Doctor leaned as close as she could to her new born Monster.

The creature forced its- her lips together and made the Mm noise, followed by other noises that made Ticks’ gut wretch.

“Mm-uh-mm,” She said, this raw, dripping child covered in old man’s blood. Muscles contracted in its face due to the release of endorphins. This creature smiled. A smile that worked its way to its eyes. The girl looked up at Ticks through, eyes shut. She soon began to laugh, laughter that was like the broken glass that smothered the floor.

“Greeeat,” Ticks said, rubbing her blood covered hand into the creature’s angel floss hair, “Well, anyone else with any bright ideas-” The room was as quiet as a funeral parlor after somebody farted, “Any helpful suggestion- no? Good. Someone get this thing some clothes before we start on round two.”

A few lab assistants glanced at each other, before one quickly exited the room. Ticks might have had a few more shots in that old handgun of hers, they weren’t sure, but they weren’t gunna find out.

“Doctor,” The female lab assistant who spoke earlier to the late Mr. Elroy spoke up again, “What is round two might I ask?”

“You might,” The Doctor replied gruffly, ignoring the assistant’s tone. Slowly, she stood up, her back cracking like a Chinese fire cracker, “Now get a broom and clean this place up.”

[Houndoom_Lover]

V. Little

Navader wasn’t quite sure where he was when he woke up. The room was tiny- small, with white walls made out of some sort of synthetic padded material. And it was cold, as cold as an ice box and no bigger then a large dresser, both in width and in height. And another thing that was strange about the room…there was someone in it with him already.

A little…girl sat on the opposing wall, eyes happily closed. A smiling a sweet smile on an androgynous blood covered face. Yes, that girl looked strangely familiar- though he was sure he had never seen her before. So familiar… He reasoned that, he must’ve seen her before, placed her in a jail cell of old Doctor Tick’s (which he currently was in. Around the office the boys called it the Freezer Room), past her in the experiment hall. The poor girl seemed to be unaffected by the cold, in fact, was wearing nothing more then spare lab coat (He could tell it was a spare by the big red letters S P A R E up the left arm of the jacket), and hopefully pants, he couldn’t tell. She had her legs tuck under the jacket, it was much to big for her.

“Hey, kid,” Navader said crawling over towards her, his teeth chattering already. The girl didn’t look up; just sat there. He wondered if she was dead, frozen with eternal peace on her face. There was a good possibility of that. He waited for a moment to see her breathe before he continued. Her chest rose and fell. A breath. Alright, he crawled closer.

“What’chya in for?” He asked to break the ice. Pardon the pun.

The girl seemed to notice him just then. Still smiling, she jerked her head in his direction and said all in one breath, “For? As in intending for or in favor of, or in behave of. Commonly misspelled as of- The preposition?”

Her voice was as clear as the room was cold, as happy as a calm even though it was in chowder. Poor thing, mind must’ve gone. Well, beggars can’t be choosers, Navader thought; at least he’d had company for the long haul.

“How long you’ve been here?” He continued, looking her over. She was an impressive specimen. Her skin was so white, like it had absorbed the cold, so new- so covered in blood. The girl made a noise like she was thinking hard, so Navader took this time to crawl closer to her, now just an inch apart.

“Here…” She said, finally, opening her eyes, “…as in the present, or in this juncture, or this point? Not long,” The girl looked generally surprised by Navader, as though she had assumed she was talking to nothing, “That was right? Not long to express a short amount of time?”

“Ye-yeeeah…” Navader said, not really thinking, her words filtered in and out of his head like a badly tuned radio. His hand slowly moved upward, like a puppet hand on a puppet string to the girl’s face. Her skin. He felt complied to touch it, to break it in his fingers- no, to touch it, to clean it off, and to keep it as his own, “Poor thing,” He let escape his lips, “If I could only get you out of here.”

“Here?” She asked again, laughter in her voice, “As in the present, juncture, or point?”

Navader’s hand slipped through the air, just then, connecting his fingers to her soiled skin. The warmth of her face shocked him out of his trance. But before he could move his hand away, she grasped it- tightly. Squeezing, a hand that looked like they couldn’t even open a ketchup bottle was now grasping his hand like a vice. Such strength, much like-

“You-” He said breathlessly, eyes wide.

“It’s drying,” She said in a plaintive moan that shook the man to his marrow. At first he had no idea what she was talking about, but then she laid a thin finger on a blood covered check, and smiled that smile that closed her eyes, “Can you keep it wet for me?”

She asked so sweetly. He died so quickly.

[Houndoom_Lover]

VI. . Round Two

Or

Memories

The female lab assistant, who was told to sweep up, was called Laila Debois. She swept the room in silence, not really focusing on this menial task. She pushed the long handled push-broom with its stiff long bristles across one end of the glass ridden floor to the next. She’d hit a wall, turn and started again. Up, down, back and forth, until all the glass was swept into a nice neat pile in the far corner of the room. And, of course, the whole while avoiding Mr. Elroy’s body, which was growing cold, and left behind for her to take care of. She wondered what the others were doing just then, and what round two was. She pondered this as she opened the storage closet and put the broom away. Laila then took out some disinfectant and a pair of plastic gloves- the kind that the Subway workers use to make submarine sandwiches.

“Alright Mr. Elroy,” Laila said very business like, “Time to go.”

She bent down to lift the dead man up, trying not to look at his face. A face that she would stare at blatantly, hoping he would notice her staring, hoping he would stare back, and hoping he would like what he seen-

Mr. Elroy’s eyes were bulging revoltingly as Laila began to drag his dead body across the freshly swept floor. The infern-ator seemed way far away when you had dead weight to carry. She grunted in extrusion, the man was heavier then he looked, and he was getting bits of blood and brain all over the floor. Well, she wasn’t gunna clean that mess up. Laila dropped him back down, deciding to try carrying him from to top half, maybe that would speed things up a bit. As she leaned over him, dead Mr. Elroy grabbed her face with his bloodied hand.

“Let go of me!” She screamed a scream she never thought she had to scream in his presents. Laila struggled with all her might, but his one hand held her head steady.

“Listen,” He hissed between the gurgles of blood driplets that were now ensuing from his mouth, “Lis-en, you fool,” He inhaled raspily sounding much like Doctor Ticks, his killer- how ironic, “You must get the chip!”

“The- the chip?” With a grunt, she managed to pry his hand up off her face. Rig-a-mortis was setting in, as his fingers did not relax, but stayed like monstrous claws poised to kill.

Words escaped from the dying man, who must’ve had some sort of back-up generator in him. Words like, ‘she tried but failed’, ‘destroyed’, and ‘hurry’. Laila wasn’t stupid, rather quick on the uptake, but she also wasn’t keen on doing what he was suggesting her to do. She quickly checked him all over for life signs after his mumbling stopped…he appeared to be dead.

“Better stay dead this time,” She muttered, looking down at him with disgust. That was one way to crush a crush. Well, what the heck, she had nothing better to do, and she sure as heck wasn’t gunna drag him to the infer-ator now. So, she dug into his pocket, and pulled out his lazer gun. Taking a deep breath, she began to beat the fracture in his skull with the butt end of his gun.

This was a thankless job already. She pulled back brain bone that akinned sickenly to pulling chicken off a chicken wing. But soon the brain was finally exposed. Another deep breath, and with that, she dived in.

What was this chip? She pondered as she squished and squeezes her way through the lobage, wincing when she pulled apart thicker connection tissue. This was way more disgusting then restroom duty, way. Laila was starting to gag when her gore covered be-plastic gloved fingers touched something that definitely wasn’t brain.

What it was, was a masterfully placed green computer chip that was placed deep into Mr. Elroy’s brain. By Ticks no doubt.

‘Ticks,’ Laila thought, staring at the chip as she had never stared before. She slipped the little silicon data holder into the front pocket of her lab coat. Laila stood up with a sense of dedication, but with no direction in which to go. She couldn’t escape this building, not alive anyway…only one thing to do, then. She thanked her lucky stars that there were no security cameras in this room (Or any for that matter, Ticks was a bit paranoid).

She slipped her boots into Mr. Elroy’s brain guts just for good measure before starting, although her boots were already pretty bloody to begin with. She took three hard steps away from him. Taking a deep breath, Laila turned the dial of the gun she still had in her hand to disintegrate and slid it across the floor to his body. Convincing.

Carefully, she took off her boots, and walked, carefully, out of the room. The door was still open; mercifully… she looked back at Mr. Elroy and debated whether to roll his left eye closer to his body, but decided not to risk it.

Round Two- Doctor Ticks step two, Laila would never find out what that was, but she was on step one of her journey, strange and wondrous as it was. She never thought she’d be doing something on her own…She gripped the green chip.

It was long into the night by time Round Two was over, and the little human Ticks had created was put to bed. Ticks sat backwards on an old wooden chair, in a wide hall full of pipes and water tanks. A basement. Bare cement all around, except for a glass wall which was one sided. The creator watched her creation sleep. Such a pleasing pleasant look on its face. The last thing its victims would see, the very last…

The good Doctor thought about Elroy’s final argument- name the creature. What silly notion. A single experiment could change the nature of the creature completely. Why on earth then…Sentimental Old Fool. Ticks lowered her head on her folded arms that were propped up on the back of the chair as she looked in.

The creature slept in the starch white room that was provided for her. There was a single bed, and a bookshelf so far- they would be more added later. The bookshelf contained only three books, a choice the child would make later, but Ticks didn’t give it much thought as of now. Her thoughts were already else where…a long time ago- well, not that long ago, she wasn’t that old, but anyway, a long time ago…The anniversary date would be two weeks from now. The day she graduated from the Academy of Evil…

It was a charmingly warm day, with sweet fluffy white clouds so perfect they looked like they were painted on a baby blue sky. The grass was green and swaying, with butterflies that fluttered low to the ground.

It was revolting.

What was suppose to be the most important day of her life was turning out to be awful, in the bad way, not awful in the good way. Which for a normal none evil person would be bad thing. Good being bad- just follow along, will you?

A young Jeanette Ticks opened the window of her room, the room that she slept in and lived in for the majority of her life. Her roommate was already packed and gone. This younger version of Ticks scowled outside at the beautiful day, ignorant to the future she was about to have. Currently, she took for grant her full head of brick coloured hair, long and luscious, and everything that made her wickedly beautiful. Soon, it would be gone. Very soon…

As soon as the sun set, the Seniors of the Academy of Evil prepared to graduate. A cool breeze blew through the window, flustering the dusty curtains. Jeanette’s scowl became more pronounced as she buried her head into her arms that rested on the windowsill.

She was already dressed in her graduation garb. A long black robe, with Dracula frig; red, at the collar where you’d expect such things. She gave a curt laughter at the thought of Cortex in the robes. What an outrageous thought! How’d that fool even graduate? Rrr, it still gritted her cookies what he did to her; oh she’ll never forget it! Never! Never forgive! And today, she will have her revenge! Yes! Yes! Yes! Young Ticks stood up, a tall girl for her age; she towered over every other girl in her class. She gathered her things up in a fury, saving a small rectangle fish tank cover in a red cloth for last. Hahahaha, she was soooo evil.

Ticks picked the fish tank up, laughing like hyena stuck in a funnel. With her perfect figure, perfect teeth, perfect calculating evil mind- she was going to have her revenge!

Oh, how she dwelled on that moment, the only moment that anyone dared laugh at her. Those fools! When she released her vile Doomsday Virus, there laughter would be replaced by screams! Screams! Arg, but that day- that awful, awful day…

It was the night before Freshman Dance- really, a spectacle where the little newbies at the Highschool evil level would get together in one room to be beaned by rotten produce, but of course none of them knew this, and no one was going to tell them that, especially not the Seniors.

Little Ticks, whose large head was obstructed by massive braces that looked like bear trap. Those puppies looked like they could pick up some serious radio stations, and conduct electricity…which they did, in case you’re wondering. Sometimes, she had trouble getting through doors with them on.

Her Father was a dentist, the only ones in the small village where her and her twelve brothers and sisters grew up in; of course they had high hopes for their thirteenth daughter, even if she was the most awkward bumbling thing ever pushed out Mama Ticks womb. Her hair was cut short and stubby so not to get in the way of the headgear, her skin was a little less then smooth, and she had a bit of a hunch and a lisp (thanks to the braces) and her teeth, O woe, her teeth made Jaws look good! So when two pretty Senior girls wanted her to join their secret club, she jumped on the idea.

The day before the ‘Dance’, the three walked through the halls, with Jeanette Ticks at the center and the two pretty girls on either side. The tallest blondest one was holding a little pink box.

“Okay, Jetty,” The girl with the box said in a sickenly sweet voice, “Now, all you have to do to become a part of our group is ask a boy to the dance.”

Her friend giggled, “Yeah, that was way cool the way you shoplifted from that store. You were way way way way cool, totally.”

Ticks beamed with pride as best she could, her braces were just tightened so all she could do was grimace. The girl with the box shook it at Jeanette; it had a slot cut on the top of it. By the sounds of it, papers rattled around inside.

“What’ss sat?” Jeanette asked, looking into the slot, her young eyes sparkled with excitement. She could see nothing down inside. It looked barely big enough for her awkwardly large hands to fit. She hoped it was lines for her to say when she had to ask a boy- she had no idea how to do that! It made her nervous. But she did have an idea who she would ask. She gave a strangled giggle.

“Uh,” The blond box holding girl started, sounding as if she thought Ticks was a bit dumb, “We said you had to ask a boy out, duh.”

“Yeah, duh!” The girl’s friend added, clearly the second fiddle of this group. Ticks realized this then, and that she might for the rest of her life be repeating the lines the head girl spoke…however, she could always betray her later. Getting up in the ranks now would be a good start to school dominance, “Pick a name out of the box-“

“”Ut, ‘an’ I ‘ick myssself?” Ticks said, in a plaintive whine, she didn’t want to ask anybody but-

“Or don’t you want to be in our group?” The second-in-command asked sweetly enough, but Ticks recognized this peer-pressure, and she knew for a fact that if she turned against them now that they’d make her life a living hell…too bad they were planning to do that anyway.

“I ‘o!” Ticks exclaimed eagerly, “I ‘o!” So, quickly before she could change her mind, she stuck her awkwardly large hand in the box slot and felt around. Jeanette grabbed one in her hand, and slipped it as gracefully as she could (which wasn’t graceful at all) out.

The two blond girls smirked, “Open it,” One of them said, it doesn’t really matter which one said it at this point. Gripping it tightly, hoping with all her might that it was who she wanted it to be, she opened it and felt a lead weight plummet down through her.

On the slip of looseleft paper, creased from being folded in half was the name Neo Cortex, the friend of the boy she had a crush on. What awful fate! Crybaby Cortex! His head was so big, and yellow- who on earth was yellow?! It was like he had that awful tropical disease- Arg, well, maybe it wasn’t so bad. This way she’d be close to him.

“…’ow ‘w’ut?” Jeanette asked, looking up. She tried to make sure she looked ‘cool’ about this, but all she could do was grimace, you know, because of the braces.

“Go ask him,” The ringleader said, not as sweet as before, pushing awkward young Ticks forward. In an opportune moment as though it was planned, Neo Cortex and his posse turned the corner and were walking up the hall.

Ticks inhaled deeply, before taking determined stomps in front of the group so defined that they couldn’t have possibly ignored her. Cortex said something out of the corner of his mouth to Gin, he looked up and grinned (He was looking sulky previously). If anyone needed braces, Ticks thought as she was getting closer, it was him.

Cortex’s group and Ticks continued to walk in the straight path, until either she or they would of had to move in order to get down the rest of the hall way. Cortex’s eyes met Ticks freakishly determined ones.

“Move,” He said obnoxiously.

Ticks shook her head, headgear clanging, “W-Would ‘ou-“ She gulped, why was this so hard to do? Just pretend it was…She glanced over at Brio who looked eager to get to his next class.

“Would I what?” The short large-headed yellow retorted in the same tone of voice, raising an eyebrow. It was really starting to grain on her nerves. Gin giggled like a little school girl. Ticks tried to avoid eye contact, instead she rested her eyes on that stupid little n of Neo’s. Stupid n.

“Would ‘ou go to the Dansse with me?” She blurted out all at once, wringing her hands. He wouldn’t say no, I mean, no one else in their right minds would ask him out. She awaited his thankful praise givings- which never came.

Cortex stumbled back, looking at Ticks like vomit after artichoke soup day at lunch, “Go to the Dance?! With you? I have better things to do then go to a stupid dance!”

But the better part of that sentence was drowned out by the bell that indicated class change, so all Ticks heard was “Go to the Dance?! With you?”

For massive hordes of children coming from class and going to class, this bell was also the late bell.

“We’re late! Ambely is going to kill us!” Brio cried, underneath the roar of the children’s footsteps. While Brio was not successful at being heard in the massing hordes, the blond Senior girls were.

The head honcho turned on the mega-phone which she conveniently had, and said for the whole school to hear (Well, not the whole school, but you know how things are spread in school, like wildfire), “Neo CORTEX said NO to Jeanette Ticks!”

This got the peoples attention, so she continued on. The people moved around this called out group as Ticks eyes grew large with horror.

“Crybaby Cortex turned down Ticks for the Dance!” The Blond girl’s blond friend screeched above the crowd, and that was all that was needed for the ridicule and laughter to start. Phrases like “I wouldn’t let my dog date her” flicker out from the crowd and remained in Ticks head forever.

Ticks burst through the crowd that parted. No one wanted to touch her. At the end of the walk of shame- the end of the hall- she looked back, to see Neo Cortex, who was looking bothered by this whole thing…that, or oddly smug. That vile little- she’d never forgive him. Why did he say no!?

The conversation that Ticks didn’t hear between the three went something like this:

“What’s wrong with you?” Gin exclaimed, pushing his way through the crowd that didn’t really care anymore, “We’ll be the only boys that don’t have dates!” He pointed to himself overexaggeratingly, “I could’ve taken her if you didn’t want to go!”

“I don’t,” Neo folded his arms, after giving Brio his books, “Dances are stupid. And besides, I think she likes you.” He jerked his large head to his bolt in head bald book carrying friend.

“W-w-w-wha-wha-?”

The hall seemed suddenly very empty. Very very empty.

“Go ask her,” Neo ordered, thinking about the Evolvo-Ray and how he would take control of the project with his ‘comrade’ out of the way, “Just because I don’t want go to the stupid Dance doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go to it.”

Brio, who could barley see over the books, looked enlighten. He was just about to go do that when an unholy shadow was casted over them. The shadow of such girth could only be one person.

“Vhy are you tree late tu my class?” Their large teacher asked, flourishing her ascent as she flourished her hand behind them.

All three of them gulped.

But Ticks would never know this; all she knew is that she wanted revenge for Neo Cortex’s rejection. Now, don’t get me wrong, Ticks was made fun of looooong before this, she just assumed it was because they were jealous. But now…

That was all that was left; after all, she took care of those girls. After she had gotten her braces off, her first order of business was to make them pay. And they did, in full.

She kept clippings of their hair and nails, and was sure to make sure that every bit of them were washed down in the drain- the blood, the nitro acid, and everything else, before going to her next class.

Now all was left was Cortex. Sure, she had to wait a few hours for everything to be perfect, but she had been waiting for years, she could wait a few hours more. As soon as he got his diploma- then Bam! The stage would collapse. Ticks patted the tank full of termite with all the tenderness of a butcher to a fine grade of meat.

She was going to enjoy this.

The hours flew by as nervous Seniors waited for it to be time. And soon it was. They processed down the walk way, as the organist pounded away a horrible tune that would give good little children nightmares. They sat down in their assigned metal chairs- in alphabetical order, of course. Tall flaming torches lit the way. Ticks looked about, no one seemed to notice or care that she was carrying a tank, in fact, many of the students were either holding or carrying something; that or feeling about inside their robes, no doubt checking to make sure their illegal weapons were nice, safe, and set to stun. Ticks slipped the tank under her chair, she’d have a while to wait; a good ten minutes.

Ticks closed her eyes, and realized she was shaking.

”Abercrombe, Audious!” was called first. The music was pounded out of the pipe organ as Audious acceded the steps, dark eyed and sulky lad. His honors and horrors were mentioned, and he walked back down diploma in hand.

It continued this way, Ticks going over her plan in her head. Only did she look up when someone let out a loud belch as Brio was going up, sounding out his name and the pipe organ for a full minute. Ticks was unfortunately behind the burper, who received a swift kick to the kidneys. His buddies around him dissolved in giggles as Brio gave a small (and very butchered) speech about being so proud that he was the president of the Science club. Few people clapped, polite, bored, and possibly jealous.

After Brio sat down they went on to the Cs. They started with Corry, Marey- Cortex being right after him. Ticks wondered what Gin was feeling right then, the last of his little group of friends to go- no, she was wrong, Tropy was after him.

She looked down the T row. The tall blue skinned Nefarious Tropy was leaning back, so confident and cool in his graduation robes- everyone else besides him looked ridiculous in them, like a small tomato plant being propped up on a long pole in hope that it would get taller. She was yanked away from Tropy when the lad after Cortex was called, one Edwards Dioden who looked just as surprised as anyone who wasn’t paying any attention.

As his accomplishments were being rattled off, Cortex looked around wildly; he must’ve found N. Gin because he was having an animated mute conversation with him. Ticks glanced over at Tropy, who looked overly smug, smug-bug. She’d bet her right leg and her favorite pencil that he was behind this. Ticks acquired some sort if respect for him that day. The rest of the alphabet went quickly by, slowing up at the overabundance of Gs (Gaffner, Giffered, Gin, Griffen, Grim, Grime, Groe, Grover, ect.) and strangely enough, the Ps (Pace, Pennet, Polizack, Posh, Pulisher, Pulizer, Pumplee, Pumperman, ect.) but then S went by, and then finally the Ts started.

Ticks watched Tate stand up after being called, feeling her stomach tense up. Was she…nervous? Urgh, it felt like she was going to vomit. She took a deep breath to keep her stomach down, and looked down the row again. Trow was looking sick as well, visibly sick- he blew his hooked nose loudly. He looked weak and silly in his graduation robes compared to the confident Tropy. Ticks briefly wondered how anyone so blue could be so confident when Tate sat down. She jolted in her seat, startled. Her name would be called next!

She stood up before her name was called, and started down what felt like the longest walk way ever. Ticks rounded her shoulders as she walked down, glancing back and worth. Those golden metal chairs, those eyes of students who already went, clenching their diplomas to them. These things would be forever imprinted into her mind. Slowly, she went up those old wooden stairs- handled numbly her diploma, and dryly her honors and horror were told to the mass of students and proud relatives of some sort. Her list was so long, so very long that she wished that she had chosen to do nothing her whole high school career.

Tick had planned to look at the floor the whole time, but the glanced up- just in time to see to see Tropy lean over the sickly boy to take a peak under the cloth that she had draped over the tank of termites.

His curiosity was satisfied, though not before some of the bugger desperate for freedom escaped. He dropped the cloth, eyebrows raised in interest. Unseen, those termites that made successful dives of freedom were making a beeline to the wooden stage.

Ticks waited eagerly for the list to end, a bubbly feeling elated down within her as she proceeded down the steps, gripping the diploma tightly. She raced down that walkway as fast as she could without looking ridiculous, which was a hard thing to do.

She sat back down, waiting for the sickly boy who was in the way of her and Tropy to stand up. Once he did, Ticks leaned over and pointed to her tank, raising a paper thin eyebrow. She pointed again. Tropy tilted his head boredly in her direction, masking his earlier interest perfectly.

Ticks knew his attention toward the matter wouldn’t last, so she jabbed a thumb toward the front. Tropy glanced forward, towards the stage, and the very panicking Cortex. With her finger and her thumb, she indicated the termites biting. Tropy gave a silent chuckle.

“Figured when lemon-head got up, I’d unleash them,” Young Tick whispered, rubbing her thin hands together in a fiendish manner.

“Cortex?” Tropy didn’t even bother to whisper. The yellow headed boy whipped his large head around as soon as his name pierced the air, “I was in charge of sorting the diplomas,” He continued, examining his nails lazily, “I must’ve accidentally…lost his.”

Another silent chuckle.

“Tropy, Nefarious,” Was called by the Head-Master, Principle, Master of Ceremonies with a dry droning voice.

“My cue,” Nefarious Tropy said suavely, getting up with such grace and poise that made a diplomat burn green with envy. He walked down that dreaded walk way like it was made for him.

Ticks would like to have forgotten this part of the day, but as she watched Tropy, she felt pride swell up within her. Approval of others often gave her that feeling. She didn’t like to admit it, but it did. Not only that- that Tropy was something else, she’d have to watch out for him.

His list went on and on, and on- and as valedictorian and class speaker, he was given a dreaded seat next to senior teachers until the time came when he would stand up and speak in front of his entire class. Tick’s eyes wavered back and forth between him and Cortex, who was fuming silently. Everyone knew, and I mean everyone knew, that Cortex wanted to be where Tropy was right now. Heck, he’d sell all his organs and his mother to be where Tropy was right now. The blue valedictorian yawned loudly as Vindidi, Susan walked down the steps.

The final graduee sat down (Zipiper, Zera) and Nefarious Tropy stood up.

“Friends…enemies…future rivals,” Tropy started, gripping the sides of the podium, “We all came to the Academy to learn how to be evil, but being evil isn’t about making petty plans, or tripping someone down the hall- its about making every living moment of your victim as miserable as possible,” He paused, looking down at Neo Cortex smugly, “Which is why I took the liberty of ensuring little Neo Cortex was ready for this big bad world.”

Nefarious stuck his hand in his graduation robe to pull out what one would assume to be Cortex’s diploma, but Cortex wasn’t having any of that. Enough was enough!

The little yellow man-boy whipped his stun-gun out of his robe, and yelled for all to hear, “DIE TROPY!”

He let three shots off, all of which missed. Tropy dodged them all magnificently, but those termites he had let out earlier had make quick work of the support beams that held up the stage.

It collapsed with a wooden roar, sawdust fuming overhead like a mushroom cloud. One of the teachers dived off the stage just in time, knocking over one of the eerie lanterns that lit the ceremony. The rest fell like dominoes. Screams abounded. Kids dove left and right to get out of the way of the flames- utter chaos was everywhere. A boy in front of Tick went flying backwards; the combined destructive force smashed the tank that the termites lived in.

The freed hungry termites began to devour her diploma like vengeful dropouts. Her precious diploma! No! No! No! Ticks can’t remember whether she spoke this, or thought this- everyone was screaming something. Many were on fire, but that didn’t matter- her precious diploma! She threw the boy off of her, stomping down on the parchment until everything living on it was dead…

All that was left was a top corner, with tall-tell signs of curly official writing. Ticks fell to her knees. Screams were her background music to this sympathy of sorrows. Termite bites were her overturn, flames were her curtains. Why?

The tattered diploma, smeared with mud of her unforgiving boots, hung in the closet of her oval office, behind what little clothes she had. She thought of this moment, as the virus devoured her human hood later on in her life…

Right now, Doctor Jeanette Ticks gave a groan in her sleep.

[Houndoom_Lover]

VII. Nighttime

Working in the laboratory underground like it was you would never know if it was day or if it was night, in fact, it was safer to assume that it was night rather then day, because Doctor Ticks had peculiar night tendencies.

The florescent lights that hung above them mocked day light, and under the hum of those lights her workers worked. Under those lights they lived, and ate. Under those lights they slept…and died. Everyone died eventually, under Ticks rule. (You’d think something like that would get out to the people and make them not want a job.) And as the workers slept, Ticks would carry on. She was never one for sleep, but tonight she was all propped up and sitting backwards in her chair, with those awful memories flickering in and out of her dreamtime. Of what little dreamtime she had that is, for most of her waking moments were spent crushing dreams. There was little left to dream of.

Anyone who knew Ticks long enough (a week or two) would have noted this as an odd scene, Ticks being asleep and all. But no one would see this, because the heavy door that looked like it came off some old battle ship was slammed silently shut, the great wheel of a handle twisted, locking the door, by an invisible hand. The thick metal bars that went across the door slid shut, the pad locks snapped closed and locked.

The invisible beings that were responsible for this slowly became visible.

At first they were misty shapes. Three of them, each slightly human form- ghostly shrouds. They passed by Ticks who gave a growl at the back her throat like a sleeping dog too asleep to get up an attack the intruders. They passed through the concrete wall, which was about three feet thick, with ease. Their foggy shapes were now outlined by sparkling thin golden lines, and above those lines, more fog began to form, something higher up, farther out. Wings. Golden outlines, ghostly pale, and a majestical blush. They soon materialized completely in the stark white room, the first one holding the bottom of its heavenly robe.

“We’re late,” The first one said, in a voice that was accustomed to saying that, with an equally accustoming manner prone to nagging, but despite this he looked frankly gorgeous in everyway. It was hard to say if it was a he or a she, but either way it was a handsome creature. Flawless and glowing with unnatural radiant perfection, “We’re always late!”

“Better late than never,” The other one said wisely, in a voice accustomed to calming the other one down, and peace making. Like the other one, it was hard to say if it was male or female, but this one had its hair tightly woven around its head, glowing in a calm passionate balm, “And better here well prepared.”

The third one grunted. Out of all of them, he was the only one that was clearly male. His features were sharp, his eyes were wild, and he generated masculinity. This one had a sword tucked into his robe, held tight to him by a worn rope. In a voice that was accustomed to commanding and giving orders, he said, “Let us not tarry! We will finish our task as given, and then continue on as though it has never happened, like always.”

“But, Michael,” The first one said with a little bit of a whine, “We haven’t done this in so long, as a group, all together. This human is special-“ With a thin fine finger it pointed to the sleeping child, who looked like she was enjoying her first sleep, “We must treat it as such, even though it is evil.”

“Do not judge so hastily,” The second one countered, floating towards the said child, a benevolent smile on his face as he looked down at her, “Gabriel, if there is a chance that we can save such a sweet child from the path of evil, then that is instead our duty. Do you not agree, Michael?”

The woven haired creature with pure white feathered wings turned to his male looking companion, in the hopes that he would agree.

“No,” Michael replied lightly, pulling out a thick well worn book from inside the sleeves of his holy robe.

“Michael!” Gabriel cried, frantically circling his sword-bearing friend, “I’m in half a mind to report your obstinance! What kind of archangel are you? Show some compassion!”

Gabriel folded his arms at the end of his outburst, hmphing loudly. Michael gave a harsh sigh, opening the old book he had just pulled out of his robes. The pages inside were glossy and yellow, like an old photo album. But this photo album like book had no photos, just letters. These letters were in all sorts of different colours, assorted styles, and languages. But while there were many kinds to pick from, there weren’t very many letters left. Just the ones that give Scrabble novices a headache.

“How about a puce Q?” The woven hair archangel suggested, looking over Michael’s shoulder. Michael prompted turned away from him, and closed the book just enough for him not to see.

“Who wants a puce Q on their forehead, Raphael?” He retorted, sounding pained to even ask such a stupid question, “Put your hand down, Gabriel.”

Gabriel did.

“How about a nice Chinese character?” Gabriel offered after getting over told off for his love of puce, “We don’t get to use them at all- or how about something with a tasty little umlaut? Or a U, we never get to use a U.”

Raphael hovered away from the conversation; he’d go back and intervene when it got fiery. But since it seemed like it was under control, he’d decided to stick his handsome head out of the wall to see how Old Doctor Ticks was doing. Raphael shuttered as he looked upon the sleeping woman, the old sinner. There were many, many, many vile creatures in this world. Child rapists, serial murders, cannibals, tax collectors- but none were more vile in his opinion then the ones that messed with the Heavenly Father’s design.

He was about to take another step out when Ticks gave a twitch in her sleep. Shock ran through his celestial body. So soon! This inhuman creature was able to flush their holy magic out quicker then anything they had ever delt with before. Raphael pulled himself back into the room, just in time for the end of his brethrens bickering.

“Raphael! Raphael!” Gabriel cried, rushing towards his friend, practically in tears, “He just stuck it to her head! We didn’t agree to anything at all- he just! He just did it! And you know they don’t come off! The green clashes with its skin!!”

Raphael sighed, “Don’t you have to be somewhere, sweet Gabriel?”

Gabriel gave a gasp, floating about in a high struck fashion. “I’m late! I’m late!” His words echoed off the walls, as his golden outline started to fade. He shot up through the ceiling of the room, by that time he was nothing more then a sparkly mist.

As soon as the sparking mist faded from existence, Raphael moved towards to child. How peaceful she looked, how much like one of their own kind. That sick twisted Doctor Ticks, out of everything that they had done for her, this defiantly was the worst. It held the blanket ends in her hands tightly, the sheet pulled up to her little chin.

“Really?” Raphael said after a while, “Green?” He narrowed his eyes. The mark was indeed green. And a W. He gave a chuckle at this. Michael had a blunt sense of humor, and at least he picked out a nice style, he’d give him that much, with the pointy ends at the ends of the Double-U and rounded knobs at the top.

“It doesn’t matter,” He cut across Michael who opened his mouth to defend himself. Raphael forced himself to turn from this girl child, his shoulders rounded. Angels couldn’t get physically sick, not on the mortal plane anyway, but he certainly felt he was going to be, “The old one is waking, we must leave.”

Michael snapped the book shut, looking irked by the whole thing. Raphael smiled slightly. It was like old times, indeed. Back then they went to and fro, doing deeds of wonderment. Back then all sinners were as evil as Ticks. Now’er days, it seemed like they hardly left the celestial Courtrooms. So much evil to judge, too much petty evil. But now that he thought about it, he’d take a dozen cases of petty evil over evil like this.

Raphael’s smile faded from his face.

Michael vanished without saying goodbye or anything, just scowling like a child confronted by string beans.

Raphael let a sorrowful noise escape him, before hovering quickly back to the child. Even though Ticks was awakening, he couldn’t tear himself away. What if…what if he just snatched the child up? He could whisk her away, and- O! How his heart longed for the days when magic was left in Egypt, but that was drained out, long gone. Few places had magic left, and she was already under one of them. Australia held on to its old ways as much as possible, but even so the magic dripped out of it like a hose full of holes on a summer day.

What was he going to do? He could just leave her here. Ireland! He could whisk her away to the land of the pixies and the fays. Raphael lowered a hand to her face, but as soon as he did, he instantly regretted it.

A flash of evil. The crawling of a thousand mites against centipedes of red. Massive maws with needle teeth. Laughter! Laughter! Laughter! Repulsed, he bent over slightly and let out a little groan. Hell hath no fury like something ancient and sleeping. The girl let out a hissing out, still in slumber.

Raphael slowly faded away.

It was like they were never there. The good Doctor’s eyes snapped open.

[Houndoom_Lover]

VIII. Freud and Flames

There were drums in Doctor Ticks ears as she peered around the room, wide-eyed and nonplused. It was blurry, in this room, strange and uninformed. But this was the same room she was in before, she was sure of it.

Ticks stood up from her old wooden chair, it creaked right along with her. The drums in her ears slowly calmed down. Those drums…she slipped a hand under her medical coat, feeling her heart beat slowly and dutiously against her shallow chest. It was beating franticly, well, for her anyway. Did she just have a heart attack? No, couldn’t be. Nonsense.

“Tsssssskkk, Doctor krsssssh Doctor?”

Doctor Ticks didn’t even notice the sound at first. Ticks placed a be-rubber-gloved hand on her forehead, and ran it all the way to the back of her neck; spars auburn hairs fell out as she did so (what little of them she had).

“Tttttssssk,” The sound that went off again, this time the speaker spoke with more insistence then before, “Doctor! Doctor! Are you there?”

Ticks blinked rapidly, surprised mildly that she could move her eyelids that fast. Where was that noise coming from?

She gave an audible noise of annoyance between her straightened teeth. Whatever had happened, she’d just have to forget about it. Ticks stuck her other hand in her pocket, and pulled out the Laboratory standard walky-talky. The man continued to yell “Doctor! Doctor!”, until she held down the receiver bar.

“Yes?” She droned into the Walkie-Talkie, sounding deceivingly bored, on the inside she was rolling confused frustration. She released the receiver bar.

Slowly, she stood up, her joints popping back into place. How long had she been down here? Curse her hatred of clocks; one would be useful right about now. Ticks rolled her neck; it cracked like fireworks on Chinese New Years.

“Tsssk, the helicopter is tsssssk but the- ARg- tssskkksshhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Was the reply she got. Ticks grimaced, dropping the walkie-talkie back into her pocket. She had no idea whether to punish anyone or not because she had no idea how long she had been down her. Troublesome, so very troublesome. She’d find someone to take all this rage out on.

Ticks shambled over, with the sounds of static in the background, to the one-sided glass window. The good Doctor removed her plastic glove unceremoniously and placed her bare hand on it. She waited a moment.

Ticks took her hand off, quickly putting her glove back on as though the air could cover it with filthy unworthy germs. Her imprint shone a health-care blue before it was confirmed by a robotic voice. Female. They called her Dora around the office.

With a tectonic woosh of decompression, the glass raised up into the wall above it, surrounding Ticks in a veil steam.

She walked into the room where her creation slept peacefully. An instant ick went through her. Something was wrong. Not wrong in the right way, but wrong in the wrong was that was just wrong.

Ticks peered around the simple room, feeling slightly disgusted. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. Arg! She had no time for things like this- ignoring her woman’s intuition, she rushed as fast as she could to the side of the child’s bed, which had a handle like the sides of car seats do to let them recline.

Ticks recalled briefly how sweet her ailing mother was back then, when Ticks was young. And how she sat at the end of her bed and woke her youngest child up with the softest voice…

“Morning,” The creature’s Mother said roughly, pulled up the handle.

The bed went flying upward, flinging the newly made child right out of her bed. She thrashed about on the floor, entangled in the starchy blankets. It made horrible noises of panic that filled Doctor Ticks with such delight. She folded her arms, towering over the child like a pillar of god. God, that’s what she was. No longer would she dabble in the insignificant ameba, but create things of horrific grandeur. She gloated mentally as she watched her creation claw it way out of the blankets like a demented butterfly would to a cocoon.

Letting out a yawn that would make a puppy dog jealous, the child make sound noises which Ticks assumed were words, but didn’t bother trying to decipher them.

“Get up,” Ticks ordered sharply, nudging the creature’s side particularly hard with the tip of her medical standard boots, “And follow me.”

The child looked at Ticks strangely, like she didn’t understand. But sure enough, she stood up, coming up barely to Ticks’ elbows. Such wide innocent eyes, it made Ticks sick. This whole room did- hold it!

The Doctor’s hand shot out at the child’s head like the world’s fastest claw machine claw. It let out a startled noise, trying to pull away from its Mother’s vice-like grip.

“Halt,” Ticks demanded, stopping the child instantly. Slowly, Ticks moved her fingers down to the center of the child’s forehead were this- this lettered blemish sat on its forehead, “Where did you get this?”

The child made a pleasant noise, like the gurgling of a mildly warm teapot. Made happy by its Mother’s touch, “You made it for me, Mom; my forehead is a part of me.”

Jeanette ignored the child’s talk; it was nothing more then barks from dogs to her. Ticks instead focused her attention on getting under this letter that vexed her so. What an ugly thing, how much it reminded her of Neo Cortex. Would he have? Could he have?

He would! That’s just what he would do!

Ticks span around, rage building up in her skeletal frame. No more play time, they’d hit the target here and now! Doctor Ticks tromped away, the combination of her long gaits and rage allowed her to move faster then she normally would. Behind her were the noises of the child, following obediently.

It walked with a hunch, as though it was unaware of how a human walked. Couldn’t it tell by the was I walk, Ticks wondered just briefly, up-right and straight. Maybe it was a little top heavy, she’d have to straighten its spine out later. Ticks thought happily about all the awful sounds of pain it would make as they moved through the room.

Her creature watched its Mother with loving eyes, like this woman full of anger and hate was the most beautiful thing in the world to her. She made an attempt to reach out and latch herself to her Mother’s arm, but her Mother just jerked away. After that, the creature made no other attempts at it.

Ticks looked back at the child; she gave it no reason to touch her. She went to go open the door before she reprimanded the child, but the door was locked. Locked…?

She gave the door her most paralyzing stare, but glaring at a door wouldn’t open it. With a heavy sigh, Ticks placed both of her hands on the wheel of the heavy duty door when the walkie-talkie stopped tssssk-ing.

“Doctor Ticks!? Tsssk place is in flames! Hurry! We’re trying but tsssssssssssssssk,” The Walky-talky yelled urgently up at Ticks from her pocket. Ticks blood pressure rose up just a notch and in a mighty heavy, span the wheel right off its massive screw. The door opened as though it was afraid of what might happen next.

“Follow along close,” She said, her voice possessing all the qualities of an angry demon, at her metaphorical child, which nodded. It swayed its arms back and forth like it didn’t know what else to do them, watching Ticks every move.

They proceeded up a narrow set of iron steps, up a brightly lit white hall. Doctor Ticks heavy death-like breath bounced off the walls. This was such a lovely sound to the child. Being waken up was upsetting to her, it felt awful- awful like what else, she didn’t know. But what she did know was that she didn’t like being waken up. What was sleeping like?

She closed her eyes, and tried to remember it, but found that all she could remember was a warm feeling and flickering and flash of different…colours. Yes. Colours like red and grey, slowly distinguishing themselves. Oh, wait- gray wasn’t a colour at all. This information popped into her head, brining her even more joy. What else did she know that she didn’t know she knew? Maybe Mom would know.

Ticks just opened the door at the top of the hall when the child bravely (actually, more foolish, less brave) asked her question, “Mom, thoughts when you are sleeping…” She slowly started, trying to think how the sentence would be formed in her mouth, “Are called dreams?”

Ticks didn’t reply, but kept walking. They were in a new room now, with two desks facing the doorway. It was clean and efficient looking. The floors buffed to a mirror shine.

“I think…I had a dream,” She finished, the child, feeling exceedingly proud of herself. This talking was a lot harder then it looked! Full of euphoria, she smiled, and darned another question, “Do you dream, Mom?”

Her Mother stopped walking as soon as that question hit the air. She ran right into the back of her Doctor-Mom, who was clenched her fists in a state of fury.

There were many things at the tip of Ticks tongue, but what came out was this, “You will not, never, call me Mom again. Nor will you address me as Mother,” Ticks took a break her to let an involuntarily hellish moan, “You will address me as Master, Creator, or Supreme Overlord of your tiny pithic life.” Ticks started back up walking again, “And No, I never dream.”

The creature’s face fell. It followed its Master in silence as they made their way to the roof.

[Houndoom_Lover]

IX.A Hunk of Burning Love

The two twisted and twirled up the very final staircase, a jog epic in proportion.

Ticks walked up the sparely space steps with ease, clearly designed for her gait. Her child, however; was having troubles. It scrambled up the steps behind her, pausing for a moment, before sprinting, often resorting to go on all fours, after its Master.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ticks groaned down at it, it was a good ten steps behind, “If you can’t keep up, stay down. I’ll be back to dispose of you shortly.”

The good Doctor had meant this to be an idle threat, but it seemed to have done the trick. The creature redoubled its efforts at climbing the stairs, a hideous grumbling noise erupting from it.

Ticks waited for the creature this time, as it climbed up on all fours up the steps. It finally made it, tongue out and panting like a dog (or a cat on a real hot summer day). That noise went off again. Ticks narrowed her eyes at it, recognizing the sound. Its stomach was growling.

She scowled at it. Hungry? Already? That shouldn’t be, they set the metabolism at-

“Arg! Doctor! Doctor! Please…tsssk!”

The walky-talky made Jeanette jump. Jump just enough that she had to bound up the next few steps so her creation wouldn’t notice that she jumped. But she had that sinking feeling that it had saw.

It had seen that she could get startled.

Ticks saw that look on its face, that look of triumph that only serial rapist on crime drama programs on cable wore, like Ted Bundy - now there was a murderer if there ever was one.

Doctor Ticks refused to look back at it until they came to the last and final platform. They were underground, but the building was so deceiving it felt that they were on the top floor. This final hall that led to the roof was tinted blue, since the stoney grate was hard to paint over.

It had a single light hanging over, the kind you find in a dentist office, causing the corners and ends of the hall to be draped in darkness. Just the way Doctor Ticks liked it, just the way she remember the halls of her family’s home.

Her creature made a simpering sound, like a dog sensing a ghost. The Doctor looked up from her creature to see what it was whining about.

There was someone (Or something, you could never be to sure in Ticks’ base) standing at the end of the shadowy hall.

“T-Ticks, I want a word with you,” N. Brio started, shaking a finger at his boss before she even got to the end of the hall, “I was tu-turning in my paper work for the day an-and saw that-“ He inhaled deeply, “And saw that you didn’t give me credit for this experiment!”

N. Brio pointed to the currently slobbering child. How hungry it was! It felt like its stomach was eating itself.

“Nitrous…” Ticks rolled her eyes with a groan, shlumping. She didn’t have time for this. His little out-bursts were getting more and more…chronic. They were cute, but increasingly annoying.

“N-now, you’re gunna listen to me!” He said with such force that Ticks stood straight up, her eyebrows raised with attention, “I’m sick and tired of getting my inventions taken away from me, it says right in my contact that I get credit for everything I do! Everything!”

N. Brio’s hands started to crackle and grow, his body generating a hazardous green light, but he was all over it. He promptly pulling out a beaker of green mixer and sipped it dry, returning his body to a normal state.

“Since when did you grow a spine?” He had never spoken to her in so sharply a tone before, in fact, she had never heard him speak so sharply to anyone before.

“I’ve bought self-help tapes,” He said off-handily, puffing himself up, like a cat would in a fight, but his stature was still dwarfed by Ticks, who looked down at the man emotionlessly, “As I was saying, I’d rather work part-time with that back-stabbing Cortex who at least uses my inventions for the purpose they were invented for than continuing to work part-time in this loony bin! Consider this my two weeks notice- Accelerated!”

Here we go. Ticks sighed. That stupid accelerator machine. Brio had made it to accelerate the growth of evil corn, which Ticks had put on the back burner in favor of biting chair mites before starting on this child making tangent.

She stood there, numbly. This idiot man, the only one she had ever felt affection for was walking away.

He walked right by her, stopping right before steps started.

“Child,” He said softly, gripping the industrial bar of a railing. Ticks whipped around, temper flaring that erased most of her numbness. Was he addressing her-? How dare he! No, wait. Ticks looked down at her starving creation, “You should come with me. Your potential is being wasted in this economic nuthouse. I know of places were your nasty tendencies will be appreciated, you can show this fraud of a Doctor who the invention is!”

N. Brio started down the stairs, “If you come with me, I’ll give you…cookies.”

Cookies! The child’s head perked up. It didn’t know what a cookie was- okay, that was a lie. Words flashed through her head, though it was a strange this. Images were one thing, but words were another. Words. At such speed, giving a definition for a cookie.

Cookie: (noun) Coo-key. A wafer, or pastry, often sweetened with sugar, honey, or molasses. Oval, block, or festive shaped baked good.

The child, intrigued by the idea of a cookie, tried to block out the other words that came flying at it at light speed. With an agitated noise, it made a move to follow N. Brio.

But Doctor Ticks’ leg was in the way.

“The child, “ Ticks said firmly, “Will stay here with me.”

The creature obeyed, without hesitation, the thought of cookies still fresh in its mind.

“I see,” N. Brio replied, his voice echoing against the walls. And he did see. He saw that no matter what he did, he’d always would be belittled and he’d always have his inventions stolen…unless, unless he stood up for himself.

He whisked down the steps, ranting the whole way (once he was out of hearing range of Ticks that is).

“I invented the chemicals and accelerator,” He proclaimed to the corkboard as he passed, “And built have this that, but that doesn’t say a lot about me, you shot the other one.”

He rushed down level five, the hall was empty, the floors were buffed to a mirror shine, nothing but his voice to share in his company of misery, “And I pick up all that slack that the (Heh, late) Mr. Elroy had, and still you treat me like a newly graduated peon!”

N. Brio came to the double door that opened up to the level four-five steps. He took a deep breath and descended down them.

“All those embryonic juices, me! I’m N. Brio- I have fetus in my name, but still no credit! I’m like a hapless bum who never learned to use a credit card- FreeAuto can’t protect my pride, and I refuse to eat lobster!”

That little rant propelled him down those steps, and to his office. Still in fury, he went straight to his desk, grabbed his favorite pen off of it, and his name plank. He looked around, maybe for a cardboard box near by.

His other level four lab workers who were chilling at their desks had stopped what they were doing, and stared at him- in silence of course. And as soon as Brio had bolted out of the office, they all started to gossip about the bolted man.

Was he really leaving? For real? Didn’t he know that he was Ticks’ favorite? After all, who could work for three hours and get double a months pay?

Ticks reached her arm after him, too far away to make any difference. Words came out of her mouth, thin and fine, so much that the air ate them away.

The creature looked up at Ticks. Their eyes locked. In a single act of petty rage, she round-house kicked the creature so hard that it went soaring through the door, right into a sea of flames.

[PancaKe]

Wow this is really quite somethng.
There are a few things I don't get - like people being light blue and green but that's okay because its only something minor and I probably misread something that explained that anyway

I'm really intrigued by this !! Good work It's nice to see some fresh fics around here as well!

[Houndoom_Lover]

Awwwrww! Thanks- The skin colour thing...has never been explained to us XD Maybe I'll think of something to explain why they're not human coloured.

I'm glad you like it- I'll try to keep it up. Fresh newness is something I dig! ^w^ Once again, Thank you~ You made my day, afternoon, *looks at the clock* Yay ^-^

[PancaKe]

Perhaps you don't need to explain it... ^^;; Maybe one sentance about how in this world they're all different colours is sufficient

Or "nobody really knows why we are like this." etc. Haha... its not satisfying but it'll do!

[Houndoom_Lover]

Don't worry- I think I might explain something ^,^ I never gave that a thought until now! Haha!

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

Flames, Flames, and More Flames

As soon as she was kicked into the room, she scuttled as fast as she could to the nearest safe spot. Between the flashes of hot metal, searing flames, monstrous screams, and flying bullets, the girl who didn’t own Myspace or hardly knew that there was a world outside a flat map and a global picture, hid under something with a low belly. It had some sort of rutters, no skis- they were like skis…She didn’t know what it was, but it was keeping her safe.

She peaked out to see what was going on.

The flames whisked and whacked in her way, like someone was moving their hand in front of her face. She could see her Mother, between these whisking and whacking flames- more bullets, and sounds of screaming. In that briefest moment when she saw her Mother a thrill ran through her- her heart jumped, her eyes widened. It was like receiving an electric shock. Which was something she was accustomed to at this point in her short life

Her Mother was a sight to behold, brandishing her shiny gun, the fire flames reflecting off that majestic weapon on killing and death as she shot and shot and shot at those people that came at her, with their hideous moans…kind of like the sound Mother made from time to time. They just wouldn’t stop coming, until they got their head blown off that is.

There were three of them- they came at her faster then she had anticipated. But without missing a beat, she pistol whipped the…person who had reached out towards her, too close. The other ones were quickly quieted, shot down by a gally of bullets.

There were more, but Ticks ran, through the flames like a deer through the woods. With ease. Her mother disappeared into the low-bellied ski thing that was serving as her shelter. Without receiving instruction, the child scrambled out from under it, looking up and in what Doctor Ticks was now in.

It was a sort of…cockpit like thing, yes, that was the right word for it. There were two seats, black in colour-the whole inside was in fact, and flashing lights under two windows that were like square connecting eyes. She climbed up inside, wondering what this thing was.

Doctor Ticks turned on the ignition, the shiny silver keys already inside. With a sound like none other the child had ever heard, this thing lifted up like an apple bobbing in the water. The thing reev-reev-reeev-ed up above the flames, and the people screaming down below as they caught fire.

“Idiots,” Ticks muttered, the child tore itself from the view down below to listen to its Mother with an abate gaze, “I said not to open the vents, and what to they do- they open the vents.”

All the while, she was pulling down a bunch of tubes- clear, and a mask. She attached the mask to her face, skillfully with one hand. She grabbed the wheel, and moved a stick, thrusting the thing they were in higher in the air. Large metal jaws built at the top of the hollowed out cavern opened up, and let them out.

The flames tried to escape with them, and the screams did too, but the metal jaw shut again, not giving them the chance.

Soon, the large loud machine they were in propelled them higher in the sky. The sound was deafening, causing the child pain- but what was going on down below made up for the pain in tenfold.

The height! The sound! The woosh feeling in her belly. They were…flying! Flying! That’s what they were doing, and below them, what was that? A body mass of land, shades of green hidden by the darkness, and as they went higher up, she saw more. And more. There were hills, taller points, and a hole with an outer-crust that was seething a whitish smoke. Surrounding the greenish stuff, was a paler, flatter thing…but soon they were too high up to see details.

The machine they were in passed through a cloud. Ticks lowered the shifting gear.

The child looked around, eyes wide with amazement. Her lips moved against themselves, unsure if she should speak, or if her Master would even hear her. The creature gave it a shot, anyway.

“Master!” It said, as loud as it thought it possibly could, voice dwarfed by the sounds of this machine, “What was that as to which we just as in currently, being now, passed as in by- the preposition meaning near?”

She was sure that there was an easier way to have said that, but she didn’t want to be misunderstood. But the creature would have had a better time speaking to a brick wall, then trying and getting a reply out of Doctor Ticks.

They flew together, in silence. The creature looked down once more, seeing the black mirror like substance, and knew right away it was water. Why was that? The child pondered this mystery, as strange urges came to be. There was a mighty urge to just jump from this machine, into the dark waters below, and spread…what? Wings, yes.

But the creature, as it flexed its shoulder blades, realizing that it had no such thing. It let out a mournful noise, as the machine dipped down from the clouds. They were coming to a new thing.

Ticks took off her air mask.

“That was Wumpa Island,” She said, finally, though these words meant nothing to the child. Wumpa was a sub-class of several species, a fruit, and a noun. And, well, an island was an island- a body of land mass surrounded by water, “Too far away to see, but you won’t need to see it.”

Her voice lacked emotions of any sort. They were just words.

“What you need to see,” Ticks turned sharply, causing the creature to almost fall out of the cockpit. It grabbed on to the strap like things, and the firmly cushioned seat, “Is this.”

And she did.

The island they were above now wasn’t as green as the other one, or as smeary, but that’s because they weren’t moving very fact. A delicious foul smell rose up for this place, a place with little growth, barren land, squat buildings and one mighty jagged one that rose up on an equally mighty hill.

“Cortex Island,” Her Creator announced, keeping their flying-machine steady, “The smallest of the Wumpa Islands, much like the owner himself. Polluted. All the rare flora and fauna native there now extinct…or mutated. This is where you will have your first mission.”

“Mission, Mot-“ The creature caught herself, looking back, “Master?”

“Yes,” Ticks replied, “Your Mission is to destroy the owner of this island. Dispose of him by any means necessary, and…”

The child waited with abated breath for her mother to continue speaking. Waiting, with adoring eyes as her mother gave a moan, and said…

“If you don’t succeed, don’t come back-“ And with that, Doctor Jeanette Ticks kicked her newest creation out of the helicopter, and sent it flying down to Castle Cortex.

Ticks swerved away, and took back up into the clouds as her creation went screaming down.

[PancaKe]

Wow. Seriously I wasn't expecting that. So now the child is meant to destroy? Aw I feel sorry for it.

I liked the myspace reference. Although, I think a more accurate reference is now facebook, because who uses myspace anymore? Haha.

So is everyone at the labs dead? Is Doctor Ticks stupid? Who will do her dirty work for her now? Psch.

[Houndoom_Lover]

What chapter am I on? *scratches my belly* I need a time stopper- so much, I hope I don't miss my deadlines. Deadlines suck- as one of my favorite authors once said, "I love deadlines...I love the whoosing sound they make as they fly by."

But, anyway, yeah- tough knucks. Doesn't it make being born poor better then being born unloved? ^_^ True dat! I always liked to think that Face Book was for Collegde kids and Myspace was for the wee High schoolers. But 'its what all the cool kids do...at least it was two years ago (Coco Bandicoot) Quote mania!

And nope, some people survived, as people tend to do- but Ticks goes through a batch of workers generally quickly. She does a full scale move once every tenish years. And as for stupidity goes, she certainly doesn't seem to know the value of human life- ^w^ *whispers* And thanks for the nominations!

I'm not to steady with the next chapter, I hope they're not as bad as I think they are! ^_^u
-------------------- --------------------- ----------

Castle Capers

If this were a comic, her screams of sheer terror would have been drawn as a great big “AAarg,” that went flying down with her as a continuous scream, only breaking when she tore through the roof, and then the attic floor, and then the sixth floor, and the fifth, and then the fourth, and then the third-

Third floor. A calm room with two simple book cases, and many many clocks. N. Tropy’s room, which had the air that suggested that he wasn’t in there long or often. It was tastefully decorated.

Nefarious Tropy was a tall, blue, lanky man, with a thin mustache that hung down from his long cynical face, was sitting at a small table with a board game on it; Battle Ship to be precise. His opponent, a Ratician, a mutated rat being, nerdy in nature, this one was a buck yellow and mercifully (on its part) glasses-less. It was a friendly game, with an unfriendly wager.

Tropy was just about to make his move, his bulky golden battle-suit’s pistons pumping, his many clocks tick-tock-ticking, when something broke through the ceiling, flew passed them, and broke through the floor, screams following it like a faithful puppy.

The blue scientist slyly leaned over the table, taking a glanced at his opponent’s board as his opponent stared down into the multiple holes being created by whatever was falling…

“G-4,” N. Tropy announced confidently, leaning back in his chair.

The Raticain groaned. Another game lost! This guy was so completely astronomically psychic, “You sunk my battleship!”

He slammed his rat fists on the table, grumbling as he dug out a bag from his pocket. He produced a bag that rattled with coins. He passed it with a sigh to Nefarious, who snatched it up.

“Pleasure doing business with you, it was a good game,” He reassured the rat, weighing the bag with a jerk of the hand, “But did you really think you had any hope at beating me? Evolution is not on your side, my friend.”

The child fell and fell and fell until it could fall no more. The cement and gravity met in a painful thud, debris falling in after it.

She let out a noise from deep with in her lungs, which stung in pain. Every part of her did. She made an attempt to get up, the child did, but that attempt was froted by a sharp jab of pain. The child winched. She was sure everything was damaged.

Mother wouldn’t want damaged goods.

She looked around the room, feeling the pounding of blood in her head. There were massive crates in this dimly lit room, and strange vats of rejected ooze, and metal shelves of things, but nothing looked violent or immediately dangerous, so she turned her attention back to her self.

The Spare labcoat she was wearing (and makeshift underwear in case you were wonder, but that has nothing to do with this sentence) was splotting with blood on the side. It wasn’t anything too serious but seeing your own blood for the first time was slightly distressing, it was-

“Did you hear that?” A nerdy voice pieced the air of the musty basement from somewhere amongst the massive crates, which were creating bizarre un-box like shadows.

“Yeah, I wonder what it was,” An equally nerdy voice replied, farther away then the other one, but they were both getting close, “Should we go check it out, or get the boss first?”

One of the owners of the voice poked its little ratty head around the corner of a crate, behind which the child had landed. The mutant rat, in his lab coat and goggles, holding a broom, let out a cry- a cry that was quickly stifled.

The rat gave its final gasps of breath, as the bleeding child made its way jerkily from its crash sight. Even though it hurt, even though it caused him pain, crushing the rat gave her some kind of relief, like ending its life was taking the pressure off the wounds.

“Hey, did you find what is was…!” The second rat came to a stop, seeing with horror his friend in the grasp of this bleeding girl, covered in little bits of wood, a wild look in her eyes.

He wasn’t the smartest Ratician, but he was pretty sure human eyes should look like that in the dark. The girl dropped the Ratician in her hand, “Danger! Danger Will Robinson Doctor Cortex! Doctor Cor-!”

The Ratician yelled as loud as it could, ratting away as fast as he could- but not fast enough. Its head was in the creature’s mouth before it could get out another panicked word, the rest of its body followed.

And soon the Ratician was gone. The child gave thoughts of eating the other one when it vanished in a great bright light, leaving only orbs in its wake. Uneatable sparkly orbs.

What…was that?

Footsteps.

Footsteps that came down rickety stairs made her jump. She quickly scrambled away, hiding as best as it could in the shadows of the great boxes. The footsteps stopped squeaking, and where pattering down here with here…somewhere.

The creature held its breath as best it could, hiding, like a spring trapped between two heavy books- ready to uncoil ever the heavy tome was removed. The walker was getting closer.

“Victor, Lemont? What is it?” A voice called out. It was unlike any voice she had ever heard. The voice made her spin stand up with attention in her. It was male. Yes, but it lacked that fear she was use to hearing in a male’s voice.

This made the creature reason this male was something like her Mother, something like Ticks, “You’re not finished cleaning, Spring won’t come if you don’t finish for me. Mother would never approve!”

Mother? The creature let out a joyous sound at the thought of its own Mother, and the fact that she might see her soon if she only killed everyone in this place filled her with a rush.

The sound gave the creature away.

The footsteps got closer. And then stopped. Maybe he had decided to go away? She hoped, although she knew full well that the speaker was near, she could feel him. Feel him like that itchy sweater they tried to make her wear. Those people with fear in their voices and their faces.

The pain was spreading from her side now. She wanted to look at it, see if she could fix it, but not yet- danger was imminent. The child could see his shadow stretched out by the strangle light that leapt between the boxes. Maybe she should move…

Too late. The owner of those moving feet and stretchy shadow poked his head around the coner- a large balding yellow head, which was branded by a glorious En. His hair was black, what he had of it, that is- most of his was on his chin in a goatee kind of way. The rest of his body followed, short and dressed in something she was accustomed to seeing; laboratory clothes.

“Why hello,” He said, as oily as a politician of the opposing team on election day. A look of surprise was on goateed face. “How on earth did you get passed security?”

Of course, if he had just looked up, he would have seen the great hole in his floors and ceilings, but he didn’t. His raccoon eyes were on this strange little house guest. They didn’t often get girl visitors- maybe it was a friend of Nina’s, his niece, in which case, they were welcomed in his home…as long as they had a good reason for being there.

But Nina was such an anti-social little girl, she wouldn’t have bonded with something so blond and busty (Hey, give him a break, those were the only ways he could tell it was a girl.). Nina hated those cheerleader types, but Cortex didn’t- aaah, let’s not get into what Cortex likes, shall we?

When the kid didn’t reply, Cortex moved closer.

She had a stupid look on her face, like the kind of look that Koo-ala wear on their when stuffing their faces with fried chicken. The N braded man got a little closer to this girl who was now moved back and forth, like a snake ready to attack.

“Easy there,” He said soothingly enough, holding up a leather glove covered hand. He causally slipped his other hand into his pocket, where his gun was set to disintegrate- just in case. Spring cleaning was always a dangerous task, “I’m not going to hurt you…”

Neo Cortex moved hesitantly, now close enough to just reach out and touch the child. He noted the double-U on her forehead, which usually meant trouble, but that all depended on what side of the family tree it was- he really hoped it was his side.

The child looked over this man, in his lab coat and leather; with his balding self and his N. Was this the ruler of this island she was set to destroy? If so, he was much shorter than she thought he was going to be. She made a motion to strike-

“…Much,” Cortex pulled out his gun just in time, sticking the end where the shooting comes out of (whatever that’s called) on the center of her lettered forehead, gripping the front of her bloody lab coat with the other so she didn’t squirm away.

The child let out a startled sound.

“Now tell me why you’re here. If you’re that maid we hired, you’re seven hours late. You should really come through the front door next time. How’d you even get in here-“

Timber fell down with a great falling ‘ker-thunk-thunk out of the girl sized hole, that caused Cortex to look up.

“Really,” He continued, ignoring the child’s gibbering noises, “It’s really flipping inconvenient to have to do all the cleaning yourself-“

“Doctor Cortex!” A ratty voice from somewhere up stairs called, interrupting the good Doctor, “There’s some dope at the door for you!”

“A dope? At this time of night?” Cortex looked up from his little intruder, still holding her firm by the front of her jacket. He continued to talk, to himself, seemingly, as he couldn’t of expected this girl to know what he was talking about, “Maybe it’s N. Gin, about time he came home…He can help with the cleaning!”

Neo Cortex dropped the girl-child like a sack of his colleagues laundry, which he had done earlier today- right in the Incinerator. That’ll teach N. Tropy to shoot down all his evil planning and refuse to clean. Hah!

“Don’t just stand there,” He said to the child, who wasn’t standing around at all. Cortex disappeared behind a box, “Clean something-“ The man walked back up those squeaky stairs. He should really have those fixed…

The child let out a rapturous sigh once the squeaks of the stairs had died. That-was-beautiful. That moment when she was looking certain death in the face- she had never felt better. She only wished that moment had lasted long, that he had done more then just threatened her. More!

The creature made up its mind. Wracked with pain still, she lifted herself back up off the floor, leaving blood in her wake. She darted from box to box, to and fro, slowly, like a stealth snail, making her way to the squeaky stairs.

The man she had been sent here to kill had left the door open, thankfully. She wasn’t sure if she could handle opening a door- it looked complicated.

She darted up these steps with equally sqeakyness, goofily, unsure yet on how to climb these things. The child poked its head out into the room which Cortex had vanished to, to see what was going on.

He wasn’t in this room, which was shiny and polished and smelled like…like, urgh. Fresh and clean, not like the smell she had smelled earlier. This smell was just revolting. Making a face that would make a monster proud; she scrambled down the gaudy coloured hall, looking for her quarries. Whether she would kill them or not, she just wasn’t sure…

[Houndoom_Lover]

A Partner in Crime Trumps a Partner in Time

Why had he made these halls so long? Cortex thought to himself in a bit of a whine as he hustled down the highly-polished halls of his castle, his manor. But the sights of his cruelly repaired picture frames (with duck tape and all) and beastly busts reminded him of why- to deter intruders from getting very far. Fat lot that did him, he’d have to add something a tad bit more menacing, but that would take away from the allure of place.

What to do, what to do?

He finally came to the main hall where the vulgar shades of puce and purple toned down here. Everything was a more reddish in hue and a darkish in tint, set up much like someone’s grandma’s house with little round tables that set host to shapely vases with fancy flowers, and things in golden trim and one expensive looking carpet unwisely set in front of a very nice door made of an endangered wood.

“What is it?” Cortex snapped, as though he was busy with something important. In his mind, running around yelling at people to do your work was important.

A thick lensed Ratician scrapped down from another Ratician, they were stacked up, taking turns looking through the peep hole of the dope that was standing outside. In the rain. It had started to rain.

“I don’t know, Doctor Cortex,” The rat admitted, wringing his paws nervously. He wasn’t sure if they should have even called Cortex with something as trivial as this, but none of them recongnized the dope- er, guy on the other side of the door. It was better safe then sorry, “Should we let him in?”

Cortex scowled, shooing the rat away with a flick of his gloved hand, “Oh, get on with it already.”

He moved towards the door, ready to greet whomever it was with a blast of his laser guy- unless it was a delivery guy. In which case, he’d take the food then shoot him. The Ratician scrambled out of the way, like clowns in a French circus, as one of them, bravely for they were all shaking with fear and I’m sure malnourishment, opened the door.

Lightening flashed outside, illuminating the man standing on the other side. It wasn’t N. Gin, that’s for sure.

The smashing of light against darkness casted an elongated shows of someone Cortex thought he’d never see again on his door step. And in that minute, Cortex was actually afraid of this man. He looked powerful, out for revenge, with his hands in the form of fists on his hips as he waited for the door to be open...But that moment passed, and the man Cortex once sponged designs, test answers, and ideas from, slumped down, rain drops bouncing off his large cranium. He looked like a wet puppy that finally found his home.

Nitrous Brio had returned.

“Brio?!” Cortex exclaimed, whether in shock that he was here, or fear from the revenge Brio might administered. He was in no mood for revenge, in no state, “What’re you doing here? Don’t you have some other place to be? Like, not here?”

“I forgot my umbrella,” He replied, sadly, though that didn’t answer Cortex’s question, his puffed out chest, curled back up once again, arms folded. He shivered, “I didn’t think it would rain today.”

Oh, Cortex had missed his soft voice, he realised right then. He missed someone he could pick on.

Brio made a motion to enter, like he assumed Cortex would just let him in through the kindness of his heart. Yeah right. The yellow man nearly shut the door on N. Brio, but he stopped it with his foot.

“Cortex,” Brio insisted, the tone he took with Cortex made him jump back a little bit. Did Brio just raise his voice to him. He looked down at the shivering man, impossible, “I have a proposition I’d like to propo-pose, but its cold out here so let me in!”

So Cortex swung the door open, hitting one non-paying-attention-Ratician in the face with the door. He folded his arms, not budging from his position in front of the door, waiting to hear what Brio had to say, when a voice full of unbridled anger hit the air.

“Why is this place so drafty?! Someone turn up the thermostat!” The disembodied voice was accompanied by a disembodied head, that floated into the main hall. The main hall which the girl who went crashing through the floors had managed to find, and was hiding behind the doorway, which stuck out quiet a bit. Mercifully on her behave- this head, this illusion for surely a floating head could not sure happen, didn’t notice her, “Cortex, what are you doing?! Why is the door open!?”

The head, well half a head; you could see its teeth, and it had bones attached with feathers that were all brown and white, and its eyes- Oh, its eyes were yellow, but you could feel the red- if red was a feeling. When this head spoke, the girl shook. She could feel the thing generate power- it was...It was fear, made an audible noise of surprise when he noticed who was standing out side.

The child didn’t enjoy this new found emotion, hutched as close as she could to the wall, not daring to peak out. She recognized the voice of the new comer. Mom Master was very upset when he stormed out so to speak, but the storm seemed to have come with him.

“Nitrous Brio,” The mask breathed, looking down at the shivering man, “What are you doing back here? You betrayed us!”

“I be-betrayed you?!” Brio exclaimed, outraged. He betrayed them?! Cortex- that back-stabbing so called best friend betrayed Uka-Uka a thousand, no- ten thousand times and yet, it was he getting scolded, getting left out in the cold- It was he betray them!? Brio looked at Cortex angrily, just when Cortex took a glance at him (He had been looking about the room, trying to avoid eye contact with both of them when the magical mask entered the room). It was a look Brio was well accustomed to seeing- Cortex was hiding something and hoping he wouldn’t blab. Brio gasped.

He hadn’t told. That dog-rat Cortex hadn’t told his Master, Uka-Uka, who really invented the Evolve-O Ray. That was his only safety net- that’s why Cortex was still standing instead of a pile of ashes on the floor!

A quick grin passed over the bolted man’s face, that look of terror on Cortex’s face told him that he knew what he didn’t want him to know. So, in the meekest voice possibly, Brio said with an incline of his head, “I did betray you, and that- was wrong, in the right way. Not wrong in the wrong way...” He picked himself up, once again, holding his chest out, “ But I want to be wrong in the wrong away again, please, let me try under your wicked guidance, Uka-Uka...and maybe Cortex can forgive me for my treachery.

Cortex gulped, pulling on his collar, “Y-yes, treachery, hahaha-”

Uka-Uka looked down at him, suspiciously, but before he could voice his suspicions, Cortex continued his sentence.

“Well, I suppose all is forgive,” The En marked man finished briskly, going to close the door again “But we can’t put you on pay-roll again. N. Tropy took your spot, remember?”

“That’s for me to decide, Cortex!” Uka-Uka yelled over the two, who had now began to play a sort of push and pull game between themselves and the door. Cortex was pushed the door closed, and wet Brio was trying to keep it open. The girl poked her head out of the doorway right then, looking into the main room.

Poor timing.

“You!” Brio cried, loudly and suddenly enough that Cortex in his surprised, lost the door fight, nearly getting himself slammed behind the door.

The girl-child exhaled sharply, ducking back into her no longer safe hiding place. She needed to run, run down the hall, which is what she started to do when she hit something hard- she was a hundred percent sure it wasn’t there before.

What was it? She looked up, heart making a racket against her chest bone. A thin blue man in heavy mental armour looked down at her, his face twisting in annoyed interest, which caused his moustache to twist. The blood pounding in her ears prevented her from hearing most of the conversation happening in the main hall...

“That’s what Ticks was working on when I left!” Brio explained rapidly, pointing a finger at it, “That little monster, I saw her eat five ex-worker,” He held up his hand to show the number five, “Get it out of here before it strikes again or-”

“Drags mud on the carpet!” Brio nodded in agreement, unaware that Cortex really meant it. The short carpet obsessed Doctor pushed the other short Doctor until he got the message. He stepped of the carpet, awkwardly, the muddy deed already done.

The blue man crotched down to the frozen child, and with a malice filled grin, he picked her up by the back of her bloody spare lab coat, and kilned-kilned into the next room, dangling the thing like a misbehaved filthy kitten.

“Get that thing out of here,” Cortex demanded, in a plaintive whine. He didn’t want Ticks in his home, in body, mind, or experiment. That balding freak! Last time he saw her was the Evil Villain Convention, she dunked his head in the punch bowl! She said it was an accident, but that was hard to believe, “I have enough on my hands without kids running around here- Why do you think I send Nina to boarding school?”

“You really call that wasteland a boarding school?” N. Tropy sneered, pulling the door open. The child made some sort of noise, a wha noise that was completely understandable, because it was raining pretty hard. He dropped her on the stoop, and shut the door, casually, like he had just let out a pesky moth, “Nina will break out of that ice-box before the semester is over, why do you even bother?”

Cortex gave a reply, that Tropy ignored. His eyebrows raised in surprise, “Brio? Well, that caps it- are we going to do an actually scientifically evil plan this time, or are we going to dabble in Mojo magic, be beaten by a bandicoot and be laughed at by the scientific community again?”

“Listen,” Uka-Uka said in disgust, over the poundings of the door. The child Tropy had just put out was now slamming on the door, making awful “Grooog” sounds, “If you have a problem with my Mojo magic, then you can leave!”

Uka-Uka hadn’t meant it, in all actuality, they needed him. But Tropy gave a delighted grin, and said, “I thought you’d never ask!”

Thunder rumbled and rolled outside, as Tropy turned around sharply and kilned away, with Uka-Uka yelling threats after him. The pounding on the door increased. Trophy wasn’t come back. And shortly, he’d be long gone, but not before leaving them a little treat of time-bombs in his room which he knew they’d raid once they were sure he was gone.

There was an awkward silence, well, as silent as the world could be with thunder, lightening, pounding of tiny human hands and rain drops. Finally, as Uka-Uka floated down towards the floor, Cortex said, “Now what?”

“Well...” Brio spoke up, he had been looking down to the floor, pondering about what just happened. What a crazy day, “I’m here and you have a free pay-roll, I’m also willing to work with this Mojo...and I have a plan...” He gulped, he’d get this being forceful thing down, “But I’m taking credit for my invention from now on. As long as I get credit, I’ll do anything!”

“Bu-

“Great, you’re hired!” Uka-Uka jumped over Cortex, both physically and wordily, “Just make sure its evil- real evil, not wussy Saturday morning cartoon evil. Evil like a rated M game with no violence....Evil!” With that, narrowed eyed Uka-Uka floated out of the room, his bad vibes following him like the stretch of a smelly basketball player.

“It looks like we’re a team again,” Brio said, unsure what he felt about this whole situation. He hoped man-hugs weren’t going to be involved. Much to his disappointment, Cortex pulled a cellular device out of his pocket and pressed two with a beep.

Curiously, Brio pointed to the phone and raised an eyebrow. Cortex shut the phone with a snap.

“Pesk control,” Cortex answered simply. Lighten zip about quickly through the sky, causing the castle of Cortex’s electricity to flicker off and on, and in that second of darkness, a side wall opened up to reveal who exactly was going to control the pesks.

[Houndoom_Lover]

Two Tinys Team Up

A bang of thunder covered up the pounding, which was becoming more and more like background noise by the second. Those two were covered up by the monstrous roar out of the thing that came out of the way. It was huge, taller then both men put together, its muscles rippling like a body-building god, wearing nothing but a loin cloth and tan fur. Its lion like tail swished from side to side.

Tiny.

“No faaair!” A voice whined from the darkness behind him. An expressionate tiger head poked out, his ears pulled back. He was wearing a green barrette, and the rest of his tiger body soon followed. Coma, this one was wearing camo. They were both animals of some kind, but they stood up on two legs, like a man, “I picked up the phone first.”

Thunder roared again, though compared to the mutated wild creature’s call, it was just a whimper.

“Tiny men call Tiny to crush stuff?” Tiny asked in his primitive English, grunting in acknowledgement at N. Brio who took to hiding behind Neo when Tiny roared, “Tiny did not think Tiny would see other tiny man again.”

The tan-yellow beast added a cruel laugh.

“That’s not very nice,” The mutant well dressed tiger chided his savage companion, looking at Brio politely, “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Tiny.”

“You not Tiny!” The brute of a beast insisted, picking festering meat out of his massive teeth with an equally massive claw, “Tiny was Tiny first!”

“You can both be Tiny,” Cortex sighed, sounding like he heard this argument frequently. This brought a smile to Brio’s long face. Cortex tried to improve on his creation, did he? The creation he stole from him, both in loyalty and in credit. He warned him that Bangles just didn’t have the temperament to be mutated killers. Time to give his new found confidence a spin and impress Cortex.

“Invention!” He commanded, bring himself from behind Doctor Cortex, and standing to full height (which wasn’t very tall at all) with his chest puffed out. Both of the Tinys looked at him, gargantuan Tiny looked at with malcontent, and Tiger Tiny a look of confusion, “You will do as I say.”

“And what if Tiny don’t?” Tiny asked, silkier then Brio though possible from this creation. Silky smooth as dangerous as a cheap whore with AIDs, leaning down breathing his foul breath into Brio’s face.

Don’t break now, Brio, he said to himself, hoping Tiny didn’t see the fear and uncertainty hiding behind his determined eyes.

“Because if you don’t, I will uninvent you,” He said, thinking wildly for anything to convince this savage beast, “And all the things you smashed will be unshmashed!”

He found it.

Tiny went wide-eyed with realization- that’s exactly what would happen! He backed off, giving a grunt of attention. Cortex looked at his once ex-partner, now renewed partner in awe. How did timid little Brio manage that?

“What does Tiny get to crush?” Tiny asked, cracking his muscle bound neck in a loud, revoltingly loud, manner.

“No, I get to do it!” The other Tiny whined, holding up his hand like a school boy in class, “He called my phone! My phone! I answered it.” He stomped his furry foot.

“Girly phone too small for Tiny to hit buttons,” He grinned wolfishly at his Tiny companion.

“You can BOTH destroy it, I’ve got an unwanted guest at my doorstep,” Cortex said, rolling his eyes so hard that you could almost hear them hit the back of his head.

Tiny’s face was one of savage glee, “Tiny get the helicopter!”

He roared, tromping away as he pulled the key to the said whirly bird from his green loin cloth that he tore originally from one of Cortex’s nicer sofas.

“Wha-wait!” Cortex cried after him, caught off guard, “Just open the door and eat her!”

“I call shot gun!” The failed tiger experiment called after the first Tiny, frolicking away in an un-manly, un-tigerly fashion, and out of sight like the first.

“Whatever,” Cortex sighed again, this time harder. He crossed his arms, and then caught the sight of Brio grinning at him from the corner of his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” Cortex demanded to know, “Do I have something on my face? Is it my nose?” His once friend-turned uncaring boss rubbed at his face as though he had flesh eating worms on it. Brio supposed Cortex was always like this, like that. Self-centered and uncaring about anyone but himself.

Brio shook his head, “No, I was just thinking how this was like old times- only with you not stealing my inventions.”

The look on Cortex’s face told Brio he had gone too far. He lifted up a hand, he was surely going to strike Brio, it was what Ticks would have done and what Cortex would do. He quickly lowered his eyes to the floor, what was he thinking? Standing up to Cortex like this?

“Are you ever going to show me these plans I’m not going to steal?” Brio looked up from his fears. Cortex’s hand was held up, suspending in air. He was awaiting something. Brio, slowly, hesitantly, lifted his hand up.

Brio made the connection, his hand to Cortex with a little bit of force- the cheer that broke through the language barrier; a high five.

“R-right now,” Brio assured himself, pulling out blue prints from his missed match motley outfit. He sure hoped he wasn’t blushing, from sheer joy. It was like a dream come true! This moment, this magic moment, when he- Nitrous Brio- would be a scientist all his own.

He forced the tears to stay away.

[PancaKe]

You know, a few of these characters remind me of Crash Bandicoot. I know, weird. Maybe its a direct link and I'm not getting it, or maybe I'm just being all weird right now. ^^;;

the child thing is so confusing right now! I assumed it was a kid, but now I'm not so sure anymore...

And remind me never to say "I'll read this one chapter later" again, because I came back, and there were three chapters to catch up on! Haha.

[Houndoom_Lover]

Aaah, delightful, because they are- you've walked into a Crash Bandicoot Fanfiction. There's a tiny little disclaimer on chapter one ^w^ Kudos for recongizing them without even being told!

Being alive is confusing ^_^ But is it a bad confusing, like the wrong words?

Yes, I'm a crafty quick little badger, I am! ^_^ Thanks for reading and reviewing ^w^

[Houndoom_Lover]

Interlude to the Down Under

Rain.

That's what it was.

Rain got old pretty quick.

At first, the tiny droplets of condensed water- cloud urine, if you will, was a pleasant and new sensation to the child. She wanted to dance, frolic, and play in the falling broken up water, with her tongue out, but soon the rain showed its teeth and began to bite and sting like no needle, for they clung on to her long after they have finished stinging.

Damp.

That was unpleasant.

And then the thunder, and then the lightening. Electric discharge and the great ripping sound that was associated with it hurt her delicate newly made ears. She had never heard anything like it, not that she had heard much of anything yet, and it caused her innards to squirm in a most peculiar fashion. The flash. The roar. The rain.

She continued to beat upon the door. She didn’t want to be left out in this rain, and she’d gladly spare them for a little while if they just let her in. Yes, she’d get that nice looking…what was it? A carpet? Wet.

Surely, there were words that went with being locked out. Words that would let her in again. She pondered this for a moment. Well, she thought as she looked at the door that was so strange to her, it just a thin wall between here and where she wanted to be, she did want in.

“En,” She said to the door, pounding lighter as she thought, doing two things at once difficult, “In!” She said again and again, as the thunder rolled over head as though it was mocking her in its big booming laughter.

There must be a sentence with this.

In…In…? She wanted to be allowed in, but that sounded clunking. She thought, and pondered, and after a few thoughtful poundings, she thought of an answer.

“Leh,” She tried, softer then her knocking, but as soon as the word hit the air she felt confident in saying the word, the whole string of words. In fact, she rather liked her voice, “Let in…” No, not right yet…Me! Me! That was is!

“Let me in!” She cried, pounding as hard as she could. How could they ignore her pleas now? They would have to open up- And just as she had that thought pass through her head, a sound both strange and familiar filled the air.

It over powered the rumbling of the thunder, and the sounds of her knocking. Was it the door opening to release its secrets…No! It was that wondrously loud sound of that shell thing her Mother had been moving when she so rudely was aborted from her Mother’s side.

Mother had come back for her! The child’s heart sang as the whirling bladed machine lifted up over the house like a skier on a mighty slope. A smile painted itself on the child’s face and stayed there until-

The cerement step erupted underneath the child as a thin red line generating heat and power bolted through it like a nail through particularly thin dry wall. Was her Mother shooting at her? For what reason! Oh! Her brain couldn’t think of logic fast enough, her legs were already moving, as though independent of her body.

She took off like a dart and shredded through the folly foliage that tried to grow despite the awful and polluted soil. The child ran low to the ground, like a hare in the brushes, for the hound over head tipped it oval body and started to shoot with abandon.

Past barrels of green ooze and blank square buildings that all looked the same, she ran, and they followed. She took a small break, only once, when the slate grey building hugged close to each other, and their parts that hung over head…roofs, hid the remaining ground in shadow.

Hearing ones heart beat was disconcerning, let allow to hear your own words make sound inside your head. Could ever one hear themselves in their heads? It was truly a disturbing thought. She didn’t have much time to ponder thing and the other things she was thinging, for the red beams of death were back.

She took off and started to run again.

And ran, and ran, and ran, until she ran out of places to run. The land just stopped, ate up by the dark water. Her heart pounded in her chest, her head throbbed from the blood rush. What was she going to do?

The machine with flying blades drew closer, up over the dying twisted tree tops like a massive bird of prey. The child felt her heart stutter in her torso- what was she suppose to do.

Die.

The chase was going better then Tiny could have ever dreamed! His hands, veiny and muscle bound like the rest of him, clenched the half-u steering wheel of the helicopter. His thumbs were posed over the red buttons at either end of the steering wheel. Yes, much better.

His quarry had run all it could run. With a savage grin, he aligned his crosshairs right over the child and-

“Uuuum,” The annoying voice of the tiger behind him pierced his savage thoughts, “Is this beep thing suppose to be happening?”

Tiny perked his triangular ears up, and sure enough he heard a beep-beep coming from the monitor that rested in the back where the tiger sat all strapped in. Tiny cursed, swerving the helicopter to get out of the way.

It was too late.

The beep-beep had been an all too real laser that shot the whirly bird in one of its rotating wings. It span in the air like a confused fall leaf, before landing several yards away in a fiery explosion the separated the ground and everything around it from gravity.

What was she suppose to do? Dive into the water? Could she swim? Could she…die? She closed her eyes, and hutched on down, waiting for death. She wondered what it was like, and why those people that were so scared of her and her mother screamed; “No! No!” when they went to go die.

But death did not come. The child opened her eyes and saw that dreaded machine spiral in the air. Had mother changed her mind? The heart that felt so clenched and painful was beating like an excited bird in her breast.

Of course, until the machine crashed into the ground and exploded. The force sent her small body flying. It was a…beautiful feeling to be separated from the ground, despite the pain. But the goodness past, as she hit something cold, and solid.

Tiny crawled out the wreckage, hoping Doctor Cortex had insurance. His ear was on fire, and his tail, and other parts of him. The air smelled of gasoline…and failure. Tiny set a growl on his lips, when he saw that tiger idiot, who claimed his name as his own.

He was looking around with high-powered fancy binoculars, “I can’t see her anywhere!”

“She be dead,” Tiny grunted in a reply, pulling himself up and patting himself out, his yellow fur burnt black with soot. Much to his displeasure, other Tiny hadn’t a speck of soot on his fancy outfit.

Tiger Tiny gasped at his ‘friend’, lowering the binoculars, ‘Don’t even say that!”

“If she alive,” Tiny continued, sniffing the air with his broad snout, “She be in Ratcicle territory by now- Good as dead.”

The air smelled of failure, gasoline, and evil. A cold winter wind blew across the island, causing Tiny’s bristled tail to twitch. The tiger looked at him, lost and confused. He had lost his predatory instincts.