Paranoia: A Commie, Mutant and Traitor walk into a bar...
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Nephtys
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Paranoia: A Commie, Mutant and Traitor walk into a bar...
Who's up for some Paranoia Fanfiction? I'm bored, and probably will write one. Just wondering who would be interested in commenting, reading, et cetera. Since Paranoia is hardly what you'd call a mainstream theme. Oh well.
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Prozac the Robert
- Jedi Master
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Re: Paranoia: A Commie, Mutant and Traitor walk into a bar..
The Computer approves of your choice.Nephtys wrote:Who's up for some Paranoia Fanfiction? I'm bored, and probably will write one. Just wondering who would be interested in commenting, reading, et cetera. Since Paranoia is hardly what you'd call a mainstream theme. Oh well.
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Nephtys
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6227
- Joined: 2005-04-02 10:54pm
- Location: South Cali... where life is cheap!
PROL-O-GUE
On any given daycycle in Alpha Complex, Protag-O-NST-1 walked through the halls of HOM sector, whistling to himself a popular Teela-O-MLY tune about just how commie free he was. It sure was great to be an Alphacitizen. Lifecycle was good, and he ran a free hand through his hair in refreshed contentment. What was also good was his recent promotion to Orange clearance, and new assignment to foodvat production.
Protag-O-NST (or merely, Protagonist to his friends… what few he could reasonably trust) reached to his tool belt, and unclipped the aptly named clipboard, reading onto it the list of Red-clearance clones whom he supervised today. His orange-booted steps carried him to a high catwalk, overlooking the special vats that produced the scrumptiously edible food served in the Cafeteria. After all, the Cafeteria in HOM sector had the lowest fatality rate in the whole complex. It was his lowest fatality rate. He felt proud of that fact. His daydreaming stopped quickly as he spotted hard-working Expend-R-Ble and Redshi-R-TED down below at the food-vats, working tirelessly to produce even more quantities of the highly popular (and mandatorilly popular!) Hot Fun bar.
“Good Morningcycle Clones! How’s work on the floor?” he called out with a bright, happy smile. The two workers dressed in snazzy red shirts waved back, an act which rather clumsily knocked the other into the acidic vat. Their screams pierced the air, a shrill cry of terror as their entire bodies were dissolved in the soylentlicious foodvat. Protagonist frowned and gave a sigh. He crossed off both their names from his list. That made what… now sixteen replacement clones needed? He grumbled to himself, and moved on. But that was when a nearby terminal of Friend Computer bleeped to life, and blared in a soft, hundred decibel song.
GREETINGS CITIZEN PROTAG-O-NST. PLEASE GIVE IMMEDIATE HAPPINESS REPORT.
The speaker blared. Protagonist shuddered a bit at the blast of wind from the terminal. His voice squeaked in response.
“Er… happy of course, Friend Computer.” He cleared his throat and continued, “All Clones on my watch have been taking their totally completely voluntary happiness tablets as required, under penalty of summary execution… I even have excess now...”
Protagonist remarked, nervous and hoping to please the Computer. He looked down towards the crossed-out names of the two red clones that were so recently reprocessed into nutritional snack foods. The reply nearly knocked him off his feet, physically and emotionally. But mostly physically.
VERY WELL. HAS THERE BEEN ANY REPORT OF COMMUNST ACTIVITY IN YOUR SECTOR?
The catwalk buckled slightly under the barrage from the speakers. Protagonist’s forehead began to sweat, “Em… no, Friend Computer! Of course not. A happy sector is a commie-free sector…” he stumbled in his attempt to explain.
Perhaps it was the Computer’s momentary silence, or the red laser dots slowly accumulating over his body, but Protagonist somehow came to the conclusion that no, the Computer would not accept that answer. Wincing, he continued. “Except… of course for clones Expend-R-BLE and Redshi-R-TED, who were both clearly commie mutant traitors. I… made sure they were summarily executed as by standing order and uh… reprocessed into more delicious hot fun, before they could use their nefarious mutant powers to harm other loyal citizens!”
He paused again, waiting for the various automated Happiness Enforcement Cannons aimed at his torso to deactivate. Since there wouldn’t be much of a story if they didn’t, the deadly, often malfunctioning weapons retract into the walls, panels with inspirational posters sliding down in their place, with such work time slogans as ‘A clean team is a mean team!’, ‘Turn in your Neighborclone for free* a Cold Fun Six-Pack!’ or the ever popular ‘Stay Alert! Trust No One! Keep a Laser Handy!’.
The Computer of course, cuts through the silence with it's speakers throbbing again.
EXEMPLARY WORK. AS A REWARD, YOU ARE BEING REASSIGNED, CITIZEN. PROCEED TO SECTOR KIA, FOR MANDATORY VOLUNTEER TROUBLESHOOTING DUTY WITHIN FIVE MINUTECYCLES. FAILURE TO DO SO IS PUNISHABLE BY SUMMARY EXECUTION. HAPPINESS IS MANDATORY. THE COMPUTER IS YOUR FRIEND.
With that, the terminal shut back off to thankful and serene non-threateningness. Protagonist thought to himself with a slight frown. KIA Sector? That’s a very safe sounding name, he quickly gives a cough and nod. “Of course, Friend Computer… I’ll be there in uh… soon! Real soon!”
Setting the clipboard aside, he breaks into a graceful, yet frantic sprint for dear life, if such a thing can really be called graceful. He darts about various clones working their daily routine and several scrubbots cleaning the halls. Indeed, Protag-O-NST’s pace is helped even further along by Friend Computer’s generous contribution of those wall-mounted ‘Mobility Motivator Beams’™ firing searing blasts constantly towards his feet.
The computer was so very nice, wouldn’t you say, citizen?
On any given daycycle in Alpha Complex, Protag-O-NST-1 walked through the halls of HOM sector, whistling to himself a popular Teela-O-MLY tune about just how commie free he was. It sure was great to be an Alphacitizen. Lifecycle was good, and he ran a free hand through his hair in refreshed contentment. What was also good was his recent promotion to Orange clearance, and new assignment to foodvat production.
Protag-O-NST (or merely, Protagonist to his friends… what few he could reasonably trust) reached to his tool belt, and unclipped the aptly named clipboard, reading onto it the list of Red-clearance clones whom he supervised today. His orange-booted steps carried him to a high catwalk, overlooking the special vats that produced the scrumptiously edible food served in the Cafeteria. After all, the Cafeteria in HOM sector had the lowest fatality rate in the whole complex. It was his lowest fatality rate. He felt proud of that fact. His daydreaming stopped quickly as he spotted hard-working Expend-R-Ble and Redshi-R-TED down below at the food-vats, working tirelessly to produce even more quantities of the highly popular (and mandatorilly popular!) Hot Fun bar.
“Good Morningcycle Clones! How’s work on the floor?” he called out with a bright, happy smile. The two workers dressed in snazzy red shirts waved back, an act which rather clumsily knocked the other into the acidic vat. Their screams pierced the air, a shrill cry of terror as their entire bodies were dissolved in the soylentlicious foodvat. Protagonist frowned and gave a sigh. He crossed off both their names from his list. That made what… now sixteen replacement clones needed? He grumbled to himself, and moved on. But that was when a nearby terminal of Friend Computer bleeped to life, and blared in a soft, hundred decibel song.
GREETINGS CITIZEN PROTAG-O-NST. PLEASE GIVE IMMEDIATE HAPPINESS REPORT.
The speaker blared. Protagonist shuddered a bit at the blast of wind from the terminal. His voice squeaked in response.
“Er… happy of course, Friend Computer.” He cleared his throat and continued, “All Clones on my watch have been taking their totally completely voluntary happiness tablets as required, under penalty of summary execution… I even have excess now...”
Protagonist remarked, nervous and hoping to please the Computer. He looked down towards the crossed-out names of the two red clones that were so recently reprocessed into nutritional snack foods. The reply nearly knocked him off his feet, physically and emotionally. But mostly physically.
VERY WELL. HAS THERE BEEN ANY REPORT OF COMMUNST ACTIVITY IN YOUR SECTOR?
The catwalk buckled slightly under the barrage from the speakers. Protagonist’s forehead began to sweat, “Em… no, Friend Computer! Of course not. A happy sector is a commie-free sector…” he stumbled in his attempt to explain.
Perhaps it was the Computer’s momentary silence, or the red laser dots slowly accumulating over his body, but Protagonist somehow came to the conclusion that no, the Computer would not accept that answer. Wincing, he continued. “Except… of course for clones Expend-R-BLE and Redshi-R-TED, who were both clearly commie mutant traitors. I… made sure they were summarily executed as by standing order and uh… reprocessed into more delicious hot fun, before they could use their nefarious mutant powers to harm other loyal citizens!”
He paused again, waiting for the various automated Happiness Enforcement Cannons aimed at his torso to deactivate. Since there wouldn’t be much of a story if they didn’t, the deadly, often malfunctioning weapons retract into the walls, panels with inspirational posters sliding down in their place, with such work time slogans as ‘A clean team is a mean team!’, ‘Turn in your Neighborclone for free* a Cold Fun Six-Pack!’ or the ever popular ‘Stay Alert! Trust No One! Keep a Laser Handy!’.
The Computer of course, cuts through the silence with it's speakers throbbing again.
EXEMPLARY WORK. AS A REWARD, YOU ARE BEING REASSIGNED, CITIZEN. PROCEED TO SECTOR KIA, FOR MANDATORY VOLUNTEER TROUBLESHOOTING DUTY WITHIN FIVE MINUTECYCLES. FAILURE TO DO SO IS PUNISHABLE BY SUMMARY EXECUTION. HAPPINESS IS MANDATORY. THE COMPUTER IS YOUR FRIEND.
With that, the terminal shut back off to thankful and serene non-threateningness. Protagonist thought to himself with a slight frown. KIA Sector? That’s a very safe sounding name, he quickly gives a cough and nod. “Of course, Friend Computer… I’ll be there in uh… soon! Real soon!”
Setting the clipboard aside, he breaks into a graceful, yet frantic sprint for dear life, if such a thing can really be called graceful. He darts about various clones working their daily routine and several scrubbots cleaning the halls. Indeed, Protag-O-NST’s pace is helped even further along by Friend Computer’s generous contribution of those wall-mounted ‘Mobility Motivator Beams’™ firing searing blasts constantly towards his feet.
The computer was so very nice, wouldn’t you say, citizen?
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Prozac the Robert
- Jedi Master
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- Joined: 2004-05-05 09:01am
- Location: UK
You suggest that the computer would give 'silly' identifiers to his citizens?Prozac the Robert wrote:Heh, perhaps a slightly too silly name for our protagonist, but I liked it. Feel free to write more.
Such a suggestion could only be made by a commie mutant traitor. Report for immediate termination or you will be terminated.
OOC: If you think the name is silly you need to see some others:
INNA-U-EAR-3
ELM-R-FUD-1
WATT-Y-WHO-2
etc...
By the way I like the story so far.
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Nephtys
- Sith Acolyte
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- Joined: 2005-04-02 10:54pm
- Location: South Cali... where life is cheap!
CHAPT-R-FIC-1
Troubleshooter Headquarters, located deep in the bowels of KIA Sector was a dilapidated citadel, the exact mental image of the bastard clone of a military fortress and your local pre-Oops dollar store. It’s no matter, really, as our dear Protag-O-NST finally leaps towards the open doors, sliding into the room mere secondcycles from committing the treason that is tardiness. His head spins as he tries now to breathe again, gasping for precious air. A few curious infrared rated clones move by in their dark uniforms, afraid to touch the orange for fear of execution. Spitting up some red-clearance blood, Protagonist manages to heave himself onto his side.
“F… friend… computer, *hack*, Protag-O-NST-1 r… reporting… *cough* for duty...” he patriotically weezes. No response directly comes from the computer. Rather a nearby silver scrubbot plows into the downed clone, pushing him along towards a pair of double doors. They swing open, and the bruised clone is deposited nicely in the troubleshooter’s lounge. Whirring and beeping nonchalantly, the scrubbot vacates the scene.
“Oh... my head.” He groaned, rising to look towards the half dozen bored troubleshooters about. There had been no excitement all daycycle. Instead, that bunch had spent all morningcycle helping HOME-R-DOH who had his arm stuck in the vending machine again. “Are you alright?”, came a soothing voice from above.
Protagonist’s eyes opened and gazed upwards, to the face of a female clone above. “You must be our new team leader that Friend Computer assigned.” She smiles, and offers a hand up. Protagonist flinched for a second, and made double-sure the hand didn’t have a live grenade in it. No, it didn’t. He slowly is brought to his feet again by the red-suited raven-haired clone. “My name is Loveint-R-EST, your team Hygene Officer.” she says with a soft smile, nodding towards the rest. “Let me introduce you to the team… they’ve… been so anxious to meet you.” She gives a slightly sarcastic smile.
Our dazed hero (and not the posthumous kind of hero… yet…) shook his head briefly, then turned to view the other clones around him. All of them were troubleshooters, agents of the Computer. Aptly named too. They find trouble, then they shoot it. A balding, burly clone waited by, picking his teeth with a tiny shard of red plastic. His hair was held upwards in a vertical Mohawk. Slowly, he gives a cold glare towards the mild-mannered Protag-O-NST. “This, is SIDE-R-KCK, your assistant team leader.” Loveint-R-EST adds moving her arm towards the next one in line.
Protagonist’s eyes turned with the open hand towards this new clone. He was a thinner, yet still muscular individual, clad in a infrared sleeveless shirt, and red-infrared patterned camouflage fatigues. “This…” continued Loveint-R-EST, “is Emery-R-LEE, our team’s uh… aggression specialist.” She says with a smile. Turning yet again, she focuses on another clone.
The third clone was a younger one, a woman clad in the standard issue red jumpsuit. She wore heavy glasses with infrared-colored frames that slid gently down her nose. With a prod, she nudges them up. “Her name is Work-R-BEE, our team communications officer.” Loveint-R-EST. The girl gives a sheepish wave, before returning to bury her nose in a Computer-Approved FunBook™, reading now about the intriguing Paradox of Schrodingher’s Clone. If you put a communist traitor in a box, is he dead or merely grievously injured? Before Protagonist can reply, Loveint-R-EST continues with her introduction.
“And now here’s our last member. Soon-R-DED.” She smiles. “He’s the last clone of his clonefamily, and our youngest member too. He’s the squad recording officer. He’ll be rooting out treason in our squad…”
Protagonist’s eyes settled on the last member, the youthful Soon-R-DED, wearing the red jumpsuit of recording officer. On his shoulder and upon his back was the glorious logo of the Recording Corps, a concentric circle with a cross intersecting the center. He smiles politely, and says very little, looking behind him periodically with a finicky twitch.
“Oh, so you’ve been waiting long then… sorry. I just was assigned to the Troubleshooters today…” he gives a soft chuckle. “Em… so what are.... we doing here?” he asks. This time, Side-R-KCK answers. “We’re waiting for briefing, foo!”
Emery-R-LEE shakes his head. “Hrmph. We don’t need any kind of briefing! That’s precisely what the commies are expecting…” he peers left and right, eyes slitting narrowly. His hand moves to polish the laser pistol cradled between them like a loved child. “They’ll ambush us there!”
Work-R-BEE shrugs slightly, replying in a detatched voice as she reads. “… but our orders are to wait here for a briefing officer.” She nudges her glasses again. “…according to standing computer decree 412-A, ambushes in troubleshooter briefing are punishable by mandatory execution, then re-execution, to prevent posthumous communist influence from spreading. It should be safe…” she notes, then cut off by the familiar wooshing sounds of the heavy automatic doors on the other side of the lounge.
Rising, the group files orderly into the next room, as prompted by a little reminder that the troubleshooter’s lounge was to have it’s air evacuated quite soon in accordance to regulations to promote briefing attendance. An high-ranking indigo clone waited by at a podium. He wastes no time in starting after each member of the team sat down, then held in place by automatic shackles that snapped in place. An attentive clone is a living clone, after all!
“Good afternooncycle, Troubleshooters. You’re here for a very important mission. My name is Off-I-CER, and I’ve read many troubling reports of communist operation within our fair utopia that is Alpha Complex. This is something you all find… troubling, yes?” he asks, peering towards the bunch. His arms fold behind is snazzy blue uniform, stepping forward with reflective infrared jackboots. The clones at attendance quickly replied in agreement.
“Good! There seems to be a problem with our televid production studios in SDN Sector. Loyal computer-approved programming such as Teela-O-MLY Reeducation Hour and Bake the Traitor, have been hijacked by traitorous material, from the Pre-Oops Era. This is clearly treason. We need you clones to track down the source of this material, and execute whatever mutant communists traitors, or traitorous communist mutants that may be behind this…” he turns and stares. “You’ll make your first stop at procurement and R&D before departing to SDN Sector. Time is of the essence clones! Every minutecycle counts. Questions?”
Protag-O-NST thinks slowly about this assignment. Entering a rebellious sector to track down communist mutants? That sounds… dangerous. “Em, excuse me…” he tries to cut in, in cute with each of his teammates. With a shrug, Off-I-CER leans on a large blue lever nearby. “Incidentally, time is of the essence…” he ponders aloud. That’s when the floor opened up, and each of the chairs tilted, their bindings released. Our brave (and highly expendable) troubleshooters fall further downwards into the blackness, leaving only long cries of surprise and trails of yellow-clearance liquid in their wake.
Troubleshooter Headquarters, located deep in the bowels of KIA Sector was a dilapidated citadel, the exact mental image of the bastard clone of a military fortress and your local pre-Oops dollar store. It’s no matter, really, as our dear Protag-O-NST finally leaps towards the open doors, sliding into the room mere secondcycles from committing the treason that is tardiness. His head spins as he tries now to breathe again, gasping for precious air. A few curious infrared rated clones move by in their dark uniforms, afraid to touch the orange for fear of execution. Spitting up some red-clearance blood, Protagonist manages to heave himself onto his side.
“F… friend… computer, *hack*, Protag-O-NST-1 r… reporting… *cough* for duty...” he patriotically weezes. No response directly comes from the computer. Rather a nearby silver scrubbot plows into the downed clone, pushing him along towards a pair of double doors. They swing open, and the bruised clone is deposited nicely in the troubleshooter’s lounge. Whirring and beeping nonchalantly, the scrubbot vacates the scene.
“Oh... my head.” He groaned, rising to look towards the half dozen bored troubleshooters about. There had been no excitement all daycycle. Instead, that bunch had spent all morningcycle helping HOME-R-DOH who had his arm stuck in the vending machine again. “Are you alright?”, came a soothing voice from above.
Protagonist’s eyes opened and gazed upwards, to the face of a female clone above. “You must be our new team leader that Friend Computer assigned.” She smiles, and offers a hand up. Protagonist flinched for a second, and made double-sure the hand didn’t have a live grenade in it. No, it didn’t. He slowly is brought to his feet again by the red-suited raven-haired clone. “My name is Loveint-R-EST, your team Hygene Officer.” she says with a soft smile, nodding towards the rest. “Let me introduce you to the team… they’ve… been so anxious to meet you.” She gives a slightly sarcastic smile.
Our dazed hero (and not the posthumous kind of hero… yet…) shook his head briefly, then turned to view the other clones around him. All of them were troubleshooters, agents of the Computer. Aptly named too. They find trouble, then they shoot it. A balding, burly clone waited by, picking his teeth with a tiny shard of red plastic. His hair was held upwards in a vertical Mohawk. Slowly, he gives a cold glare towards the mild-mannered Protag-O-NST. “This, is SIDE-R-KCK, your assistant team leader.” Loveint-R-EST adds moving her arm towards the next one in line.
Protagonist’s eyes turned with the open hand towards this new clone. He was a thinner, yet still muscular individual, clad in a infrared sleeveless shirt, and red-infrared patterned camouflage fatigues. “This…” continued Loveint-R-EST, “is Emery-R-LEE, our team’s uh… aggression specialist.” She says with a smile. Turning yet again, she focuses on another clone.
The third clone was a younger one, a woman clad in the standard issue red jumpsuit. She wore heavy glasses with infrared-colored frames that slid gently down her nose. With a prod, she nudges them up. “Her name is Work-R-BEE, our team communications officer.” Loveint-R-EST. The girl gives a sheepish wave, before returning to bury her nose in a Computer-Approved FunBook™, reading now about the intriguing Paradox of Schrodingher’s Clone. If you put a communist traitor in a box, is he dead or merely grievously injured? Before Protagonist can reply, Loveint-R-EST continues with her introduction.
“And now here’s our last member. Soon-R-DED.” She smiles. “He’s the last clone of his clonefamily, and our youngest member too. He’s the squad recording officer. He’ll be rooting out treason in our squad…”
Protagonist’s eyes settled on the last member, the youthful Soon-R-DED, wearing the red jumpsuit of recording officer. On his shoulder and upon his back was the glorious logo of the Recording Corps, a concentric circle with a cross intersecting the center. He smiles politely, and says very little, looking behind him periodically with a finicky twitch.
“Oh, so you’ve been waiting long then… sorry. I just was assigned to the Troubleshooters today…” he gives a soft chuckle. “Em… so what are.... we doing here?” he asks. This time, Side-R-KCK answers. “We’re waiting for briefing, foo!”
Emery-R-LEE shakes his head. “Hrmph. We don’t need any kind of briefing! That’s precisely what the commies are expecting…” he peers left and right, eyes slitting narrowly. His hand moves to polish the laser pistol cradled between them like a loved child. “They’ll ambush us there!”
Work-R-BEE shrugs slightly, replying in a detatched voice as she reads. “… but our orders are to wait here for a briefing officer.” She nudges her glasses again. “…according to standing computer decree 412-A, ambushes in troubleshooter briefing are punishable by mandatory execution, then re-execution, to prevent posthumous communist influence from spreading. It should be safe…” she notes, then cut off by the familiar wooshing sounds of the heavy automatic doors on the other side of the lounge.
Rising, the group files orderly into the next room, as prompted by a little reminder that the troubleshooter’s lounge was to have it’s air evacuated quite soon in accordance to regulations to promote briefing attendance. An high-ranking indigo clone waited by at a podium. He wastes no time in starting after each member of the team sat down, then held in place by automatic shackles that snapped in place. An attentive clone is a living clone, after all!
“Good afternooncycle, Troubleshooters. You’re here for a very important mission. My name is Off-I-CER, and I’ve read many troubling reports of communist operation within our fair utopia that is Alpha Complex. This is something you all find… troubling, yes?” he asks, peering towards the bunch. His arms fold behind is snazzy blue uniform, stepping forward with reflective infrared jackboots. The clones at attendance quickly replied in agreement.
“Good! There seems to be a problem with our televid production studios in SDN Sector. Loyal computer-approved programming such as Teela-O-MLY Reeducation Hour and Bake the Traitor, have been hijacked by traitorous material, from the Pre-Oops Era. This is clearly treason. We need you clones to track down the source of this material, and execute whatever mutant communists traitors, or traitorous communist mutants that may be behind this…” he turns and stares. “You’ll make your first stop at procurement and R&D before departing to SDN Sector. Time is of the essence clones! Every minutecycle counts. Questions?”
Protag-O-NST thinks slowly about this assignment. Entering a rebellious sector to track down communist mutants? That sounds… dangerous. “Em, excuse me…” he tries to cut in, in cute with each of his teammates. With a shrug, Off-I-CER leans on a large blue lever nearby. “Incidentally, time is of the essence…” he ponders aloud. That’s when the floor opened up, and each of the chairs tilted, their bindings released. Our brave (and highly expendable) troubleshooters fall further downwards into the blackness, leaving only long cries of surprise and trails of yellow-clearance liquid in their wake.
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The Grim Squeaker
- Emperor's Hand
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- Location: A different time-space Continuum
- Contact:
Very amusing 
,
Paranoia is the rpg based in the alpha complex in a post apoc world controlled by an insane computer right?
, Paranoia is the rpg based in the alpha complex in a post apoc world controlled by an insane computer right?
Photography
Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.
To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.
Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.
To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.
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The Grim Squeaker
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 10315
- Joined: 2005-06-01 01:44am
- Location: A different time-space Continuum
- Contact:
Maybe after this you can do a cross-over fic with the Omni brain, it's omni corp and have it check a happy droid for happiness 
YOUR SMILE IS NOT AT REGULATION LEVEL, PLEASE GO TO YOUR NEAREST TERMINAL TO REPORT FOR DELETION, HAVE A COMMIE FREE DAY
For those mutie traitors who dont know the omni brain comes from an adventure game called "The Feeble files"
YOUR SMILE IS NOT AT REGULATION LEVEL, PLEASE GO TO YOUR NEAREST TERMINAL TO REPORT FOR DELETION, HAVE A COMMIE FREE DAY
For those mutie traitors who dont know the omni brain comes from an adventure game called "The Feeble files"
Photography
Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.
To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.
Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.
To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.
-
Nephtys
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6227
- Joined: 2005-04-02 10:54pm
- Location: South Cali... where life is cheap!
CHAPT-R-FIC 2
As we last left our bewildered and highly expendable heroes, they were facing the gravest communist threat of all: gravity. Loveint-R-EST called out in surprise with a disorienting shriek as she fell, and Protag-O-NST sobbed for his life. Emery-R-LEE was busy firing off his laser pistol towards the infrared darkness, hoping to solve this problem with his favorite method: the application of violence. With a yawn, Work-R-BEE is squatting cross-legged as she falls, holding a tiny Teela-O-MLY endorsed penlight to read. Side-R-KCK is lost in a long string of mumbling about ‘Jibba-jabba’ and so on, so forth as he spins. No need to dwell there. Soon-R-DED held his head tightly, praying to the Computer for their deliverance.
And deliverance comes. Down the delivery chute, in fact! The bunch land in brief succession, Protag-O-NST being the unfortunate mattress the others land on. Bruised, he groans as slowly each of the other clones dismount the pile. His own swollen eyes turn about to see… ah! They’re in line at Procurement. Somewhere near the middle, possibly. Soon-R-DED gasped at what he saw…
The procurement service area was a massive room, stretching far into the horizon. Thousands of clones lined up and were waiting in queue for their equipment. So far, it seems servicing this bunch is a single simple clone, looking confused and overworked.
“What?! Why‘re we stuck back here in the nosebleeds?! We’re on an import’nt mission!” Side-R-KCK shook his fist, looking down the rows and rows of waiting clones. Work-R-BEE looked up momentarily with her same distracted tone. “Mmm… I calculate that we’d reach the front in… approximately two monthcycles. During that period, we’ll all be summarily executed around eighty four times for tardiness… that won’t do.” She adds.
Soon-R-DED cuts in quickly after. “No, sah-ree, it won’t…” the youngest of the clones said. “Shucks, and ah was gonna retire from troubleshootin’ aftah this gig. Maybe settle down, enjoy some hawt fun…” he sighs.
Protagonist rubs his aching jaws, and then thinks slowly. “There’s… at least two hundred clones ahead of us. What can we do?” he asks, looking to Loveint-R-EST, whose eyes maintain their gaze upon Protagonist’s own. She snaps her finger. “I know… as troubleshooters on a critical mission for our Friend the Computer, we need to remain clean to do our duty. As team hygene officer…” she thinks. “I believe being in a crowd of such nobodyclones certainly promotes uncleanliness. Therefore…” Loveint-R-EST paces back a little, smiling towards the gang. They all look strangely towards her. What was this clone getting at. She slowly walks towards Protag-O-NST with a slight wink. “I’ll discuss this in private with our team leader.”
Of course, he is surprised. “Uh… yes! For the sake of Alpha Complex security, we’ll em… talk over there.” He looks away, for a small open patch in the mass of clones. “Just wait for us. We’ll return with a plan.”
Loveint-R-EST takes his hand and quickly tugs the poor clone away, before then smiling to him. “Protag-O-NST… I don’t think we’re going to make it out of here conventionally. But…” she bites her lip shyly. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re an amazing clone that I really want to get to know… so I’m going to show you a little secret.” She softly breathes, eyes turning away towards the floor and hands pulling away. She flicks her wrist, and above where silver ceiling sprinklers are, a tiny spark appears. It starts to glow faintly, increasing in intensity. She turns her gaze back upon Protagonist’s grey orbs, wrapping her arms about his waist.
He is understandably stunned. “I… you… mean. How’d you do that?” he asks, quivering. What kind of power was this? Does this clone truly love me He gasps. “You’re going to start the sprinklers, and we can use the chaos to get to the head of the line… that’s brilliant!” he exclaims. Loveint-R-EST beams slightly with a smile. “Shhhh, Protag-O-NST, I knew from the moment I saw you run in the lounge that we were meant to be together. I have… feelings for you.” She closes her eyes, and begins to press closer, lips pursed. Protagonist is stunned, his own lips growing ever so closer to hers, holding her tightly in a loving embrace… feeling her breath upon him, seeing the lips moving ever so closer, and finally noticing a laser blast blow right through her temple, leaving but a clean hole.
“L-L-Lov---- Nooooooooooooooo!” Protagonist cries out in horror as she slumps back to the floor, quite dead. The flame by the ceiling flickers out before the sprinkler does anything more than spurt out a little rainstorm only upon the clone and his dead hygene officer. His eyes turn to the direction of the blast, where Emery-R-LEE stands, with his gleaming silver-plated red-clearance laser pistol smoking. He slowly lowers the weapon.
“Emery-R-LEE..! Why’d you shoot her? She was--- she was---- She was going to help us out of this mess! What do we do now!?“ Protagonist stumbles then sobs, kneeling beside the body under his own little personal raincloud. The other clone shrugs. “She was a dirty commie mutant, that’s why! I saw what she did! That’s durn unnatural! I tell you, those commie mutant traitors are everywhere! Everywhere!” he growls. “As for this mess, I---“
The well-armed clone is cut off suddenly by a rising murmuring. “Commies?!” a nameless clone suddenly gasps. Another’s voice replies “Everywhere?!”, before a third combines the two. “Commies! They’re everywhere! Computer help us!”, the voice shouts, right when the gunfire opens up. What do you expect when every single clone is issued weaponry from birth, as added security against communist infiltration? Orderly queues break down into a chaotic melee of laser blasts and explosions from flung Mr. Shrapnel grenades. Protag-O-NST is dragged by the back of his collar by Emery-R-LEE, pushing through the masses as the party runs ahead to the front of the line.
Of course, the troubleshooters are fighting their way through the brawl, trying to stay alive from the lasers flying about, and trying to complete their goal, lest the Computer think they were disloyal! Side-R-KCK slams his fist about, knocking aside several armed clones. Work-R-BEE has since switched her little electronic book reader to a combat manual. Her eyes remain fixed on the page as with her other hand she idly fires about with careful precision. Protagonist runs for the two, running away from Emery-R-LEE. Indeed, the fiery gleam in his eyes almost makes one hear marching if they stare into it too long. No, he’s simply tossing grenades and firing a matched pair of laser pistols, their six-shot barrels growing dim quickly.
Side-R-KCK and Work-R-BEE are joined now by Protag-O-NST, who fires his own drawn pistol rather weakly, hitting fairly little aside from air and wall. They manage to break into the open, where Soon-R-DED is hiding next to the requisition counter. He looks up and throws himself to the counter, panting and sweating. His eyes catch the nametag of the clerk, which reads ‘Ove-R-TME’.
“I… I’m leader of the troubleshooter squad sent to… SDN sector.” he quickly gasps, firing his pistol over his shoulder. The others are now there, blasting away into the crowd of rowdy, overzealous clones who are still calling out “Traitors! All of them!” and “Death to Commies!”.
Sluggishly, Ove-R-TME looks towards the bunch. Then back to Protag-O-NST. “Oh. You must be the ones requesting the Happy Fun Home Arsenal Kit, perfect for completing any task, anywhere. Huh. I wonder where that is…” he yawns, playing with a barcode scanner idly.
Protagonist nods his head. “Yeah! We’re them… em…” a slow reverberating rumble fills immediate area, and he stop to look up at the ceiling… a tile opens up, and out falls a familiar face. “Loveint-R-EST!” He gasps, overwhelmed. “You’re… alive!” he smiles, looking to her.
She looks dazed and confused, turning her head. “Oh… er… wait, that’s me! Loveint-R-EST-2. Are we still in line? What’s going on?” she asks, puzzled at Protagonist’s sudden enthusiasm for her being back. She gives an odd stare. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”
Oh, poor Protag-O-NST. His expression droops and he sighs, shaking his head. “Nevermind. We just need to get our equipment now.” He slams a hand on the desk as a laser blast scorches the wall ahead. The clerk shrugs, building a paperclip statue now. “Eh. You’ll need to fill out some paperwork… like the CON41201 Arsenal Requisition form, and DOA7123 Release Form…” he shrugs.
“Whateveh! Just gib us dem jibba-jabbin’ forms!” Side-R-KCK exclaims, firing his own sidearm and then punching another overzealous Red Clone leaping at him. Protagonist nods. “Yeah, I’ll fill ‘em out. Please, hurry!” He says.
The clerk… yawns again. “Ehh… did you file BIP105 Form Request Forms? We can’t give out forms without an FRF filled out in triplicate weekcycles ahead.” He shrugs. “I could have given you an IV1062 Universal Request Form, but all of ours printed on Orange or Yellow paper are out. The shipment of Green forms we just got are above your security clearance, citizen. I can’t give those to you.” He yawns. Protagonist’s eyes widen.
“But… but!”
His stumbling is interrupted again by Friend Computer.
ATTENTION ALL CLONES IN PROCUREMENT, KIA SECTOR. UNAUTHORIZED RIOTING HAS OCCURRED. PLEASE DUCK AND COVER UNDER THE NEAREST OBJECT WHILE ROUTINE GASSING OCCURS. REMEMBER, REPORT TREASON AS IT HAPPENS. HAPPINESS IS MANDATORY.
Soon-R-DED squeaks from behind cover, clutching his now activated multicorder. He’s filming every bit of this, and thus he realizes the problem. “We’d.. we’d bettah get awhtah here, sir. Dems gassin’s gonnah happen real soon…” he frowns. Protagonist nods, and quickly starts to charge to the rear, like a true hero. Fleeing with the warcry of a childlike scream and flanked by the equally terrified bunch, they manage to successfully head to a wall, where a sickly green gas is being piped in through the ceiling grates. Clones all about are choking, weezing, and caughing up various organs.
Emery-R-LEE is there, shaking his head and still shooting. “Aah! Dagnabbit, those wily commies have got us licked! Ah, I’m gonna take them down with me! You’ll get my zap guns when you pry them from my cold dead fingers… Yaaah!” he fires rapidly, wildly in every direction. The troubleshooters take cover, before a great big girder falls from the ceiling, cut loose by Emery’s fire. It lands on him, squashing a big red-clearance blot on the ground. Protag-O-NST runs up to it, wheezing and hacking in the gas.
“There’s… the girder *cough* blew a hole through the *choke* wall…” he starts to look into it, considering trying to crawl to safety. The other squaddies are wheezing and choking as well, save Work-R-BEE, who is now reading ‘Holding your Breath: A Condensed Guide to Chemical Weapons’. She coughs politely and slightly.
Protag-O-NST waves them over, hoping to show the gang the way out. He turns and opens his mouth to speak, head crossing to look behind him when--- another much, much larger girder swings down from the ceiling, smashing the whole team clean through the wall into darkness.
Our heroclone sees stars suddenly, a burst of little computer terminals, and then blackness.
As we last left our bewildered and highly expendable heroes, they were facing the gravest communist threat of all: gravity. Loveint-R-EST called out in surprise with a disorienting shriek as she fell, and Protag-O-NST sobbed for his life. Emery-R-LEE was busy firing off his laser pistol towards the infrared darkness, hoping to solve this problem with his favorite method: the application of violence. With a yawn, Work-R-BEE is squatting cross-legged as she falls, holding a tiny Teela-O-MLY endorsed penlight to read. Side-R-KCK is lost in a long string of mumbling about ‘Jibba-jabba’ and so on, so forth as he spins. No need to dwell there. Soon-R-DED held his head tightly, praying to the Computer for their deliverance.
And deliverance comes. Down the delivery chute, in fact! The bunch land in brief succession, Protag-O-NST being the unfortunate mattress the others land on. Bruised, he groans as slowly each of the other clones dismount the pile. His own swollen eyes turn about to see… ah! They’re in line at Procurement. Somewhere near the middle, possibly. Soon-R-DED gasped at what he saw…
The procurement service area was a massive room, stretching far into the horizon. Thousands of clones lined up and were waiting in queue for their equipment. So far, it seems servicing this bunch is a single simple clone, looking confused and overworked.
“What?! Why‘re we stuck back here in the nosebleeds?! We’re on an import’nt mission!” Side-R-KCK shook his fist, looking down the rows and rows of waiting clones. Work-R-BEE looked up momentarily with her same distracted tone. “Mmm… I calculate that we’d reach the front in… approximately two monthcycles. During that period, we’ll all be summarily executed around eighty four times for tardiness… that won’t do.” She adds.
Soon-R-DED cuts in quickly after. “No, sah-ree, it won’t…” the youngest of the clones said. “Shucks, and ah was gonna retire from troubleshootin’ aftah this gig. Maybe settle down, enjoy some hawt fun…” he sighs.
Protagonist rubs his aching jaws, and then thinks slowly. “There’s… at least two hundred clones ahead of us. What can we do?” he asks, looking to Loveint-R-EST, whose eyes maintain their gaze upon Protagonist’s own. She snaps her finger. “I know… as troubleshooters on a critical mission for our Friend the Computer, we need to remain clean to do our duty. As team hygene officer…” she thinks. “I believe being in a crowd of such nobodyclones certainly promotes uncleanliness. Therefore…” Loveint-R-EST paces back a little, smiling towards the gang. They all look strangely towards her. What was this clone getting at. She slowly walks towards Protag-O-NST with a slight wink. “I’ll discuss this in private with our team leader.”
Of course, he is surprised. “Uh… yes! For the sake of Alpha Complex security, we’ll em… talk over there.” He looks away, for a small open patch in the mass of clones. “Just wait for us. We’ll return with a plan.”
Loveint-R-EST takes his hand and quickly tugs the poor clone away, before then smiling to him. “Protag-O-NST… I don’t think we’re going to make it out of here conventionally. But…” she bites her lip shyly. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re an amazing clone that I really want to get to know… so I’m going to show you a little secret.” She softly breathes, eyes turning away towards the floor and hands pulling away. She flicks her wrist, and above where silver ceiling sprinklers are, a tiny spark appears. It starts to glow faintly, increasing in intensity. She turns her gaze back upon Protagonist’s grey orbs, wrapping her arms about his waist.
He is understandably stunned. “I… you… mean. How’d you do that?” he asks, quivering. What kind of power was this? Does this clone truly love me He gasps. “You’re going to start the sprinklers, and we can use the chaos to get to the head of the line… that’s brilliant!” he exclaims. Loveint-R-EST beams slightly with a smile. “Shhhh, Protag-O-NST, I knew from the moment I saw you run in the lounge that we were meant to be together. I have… feelings for you.” She closes her eyes, and begins to press closer, lips pursed. Protagonist is stunned, his own lips growing ever so closer to hers, holding her tightly in a loving embrace… feeling her breath upon him, seeing the lips moving ever so closer, and finally noticing a laser blast blow right through her temple, leaving but a clean hole.
“L-L-Lov---- Nooooooooooooooo!” Protagonist cries out in horror as she slumps back to the floor, quite dead. The flame by the ceiling flickers out before the sprinkler does anything more than spurt out a little rainstorm only upon the clone and his dead hygene officer. His eyes turn to the direction of the blast, where Emery-R-LEE stands, with his gleaming silver-plated red-clearance laser pistol smoking. He slowly lowers the weapon.
“Emery-R-LEE..! Why’d you shoot her? She was--- she was---- She was going to help us out of this mess! What do we do now!?“ Protagonist stumbles then sobs, kneeling beside the body under his own little personal raincloud. The other clone shrugs. “She was a dirty commie mutant, that’s why! I saw what she did! That’s durn unnatural! I tell you, those commie mutant traitors are everywhere! Everywhere!” he growls. “As for this mess, I---“
The well-armed clone is cut off suddenly by a rising murmuring. “Commies?!” a nameless clone suddenly gasps. Another’s voice replies “Everywhere?!”, before a third combines the two. “Commies! They’re everywhere! Computer help us!”, the voice shouts, right when the gunfire opens up. What do you expect when every single clone is issued weaponry from birth, as added security against communist infiltration? Orderly queues break down into a chaotic melee of laser blasts and explosions from flung Mr. Shrapnel grenades. Protag-O-NST is dragged by the back of his collar by Emery-R-LEE, pushing through the masses as the party runs ahead to the front of the line.
Of course, the troubleshooters are fighting their way through the brawl, trying to stay alive from the lasers flying about, and trying to complete their goal, lest the Computer think they were disloyal! Side-R-KCK slams his fist about, knocking aside several armed clones. Work-R-BEE has since switched her little electronic book reader to a combat manual. Her eyes remain fixed on the page as with her other hand she idly fires about with careful precision. Protagonist runs for the two, running away from Emery-R-LEE. Indeed, the fiery gleam in his eyes almost makes one hear marching if they stare into it too long. No, he’s simply tossing grenades and firing a matched pair of laser pistols, their six-shot barrels growing dim quickly.
Side-R-KCK and Work-R-BEE are joined now by Protag-O-NST, who fires his own drawn pistol rather weakly, hitting fairly little aside from air and wall. They manage to break into the open, where Soon-R-DED is hiding next to the requisition counter. He looks up and throws himself to the counter, panting and sweating. His eyes catch the nametag of the clerk, which reads ‘Ove-R-TME’.
“I… I’m leader of the troubleshooter squad sent to… SDN sector.” he quickly gasps, firing his pistol over his shoulder. The others are now there, blasting away into the crowd of rowdy, overzealous clones who are still calling out “Traitors! All of them!” and “Death to Commies!”.
Sluggishly, Ove-R-TME looks towards the bunch. Then back to Protag-O-NST. “Oh. You must be the ones requesting the Happy Fun Home Arsenal Kit, perfect for completing any task, anywhere. Huh. I wonder where that is…” he yawns, playing with a barcode scanner idly.
Protagonist nods his head. “Yeah! We’re them… em…” a slow reverberating rumble fills immediate area, and he stop to look up at the ceiling… a tile opens up, and out falls a familiar face. “Loveint-R-EST!” He gasps, overwhelmed. “You’re… alive!” he smiles, looking to her.
She looks dazed and confused, turning her head. “Oh… er… wait, that’s me! Loveint-R-EST-2. Are we still in line? What’s going on?” she asks, puzzled at Protagonist’s sudden enthusiasm for her being back. She gives an odd stare. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”
Oh, poor Protag-O-NST. His expression droops and he sighs, shaking his head. “Nevermind. We just need to get our equipment now.” He slams a hand on the desk as a laser blast scorches the wall ahead. The clerk shrugs, building a paperclip statue now. “Eh. You’ll need to fill out some paperwork… like the CON41201 Arsenal Requisition form, and DOA7123 Release Form…” he shrugs.
“Whateveh! Just gib us dem jibba-jabbin’ forms!” Side-R-KCK exclaims, firing his own sidearm and then punching another overzealous Red Clone leaping at him. Protagonist nods. “Yeah, I’ll fill ‘em out. Please, hurry!” He says.
The clerk… yawns again. “Ehh… did you file BIP105 Form Request Forms? We can’t give out forms without an FRF filled out in triplicate weekcycles ahead.” He shrugs. “I could have given you an IV1062 Universal Request Form, but all of ours printed on Orange or Yellow paper are out. The shipment of Green forms we just got are above your security clearance, citizen. I can’t give those to you.” He yawns. Protagonist’s eyes widen.
“But… but!”
His stumbling is interrupted again by Friend Computer.
ATTENTION ALL CLONES IN PROCUREMENT, KIA SECTOR. UNAUTHORIZED RIOTING HAS OCCURRED. PLEASE DUCK AND COVER UNDER THE NEAREST OBJECT WHILE ROUTINE GASSING OCCURS. REMEMBER, REPORT TREASON AS IT HAPPENS. HAPPINESS IS MANDATORY.
Soon-R-DED squeaks from behind cover, clutching his now activated multicorder. He’s filming every bit of this, and thus he realizes the problem. “We’d.. we’d bettah get awhtah here, sir. Dems gassin’s gonnah happen real soon…” he frowns. Protagonist nods, and quickly starts to charge to the rear, like a true hero. Fleeing with the warcry of a childlike scream and flanked by the equally terrified bunch, they manage to successfully head to a wall, where a sickly green gas is being piped in through the ceiling grates. Clones all about are choking, weezing, and caughing up various organs.
Emery-R-LEE is there, shaking his head and still shooting. “Aah! Dagnabbit, those wily commies have got us licked! Ah, I’m gonna take them down with me! You’ll get my zap guns when you pry them from my cold dead fingers… Yaaah!” he fires rapidly, wildly in every direction. The troubleshooters take cover, before a great big girder falls from the ceiling, cut loose by Emery’s fire. It lands on him, squashing a big red-clearance blot on the ground. Protag-O-NST runs up to it, wheezing and hacking in the gas.
“There’s… the girder *cough* blew a hole through the *choke* wall…” he starts to look into it, considering trying to crawl to safety. The other squaddies are wheezing and choking as well, save Work-R-BEE, who is now reading ‘Holding your Breath: A Condensed Guide to Chemical Weapons’. She coughs politely and slightly.
Protag-O-NST waves them over, hoping to show the gang the way out. He turns and opens his mouth to speak, head crossing to look behind him when--- another much, much larger girder swings down from the ceiling, smashing the whole team clean through the wall into darkness.
Our heroclone sees stars suddenly, a burst of little computer terminals, and then blackness.
-
Nephtys
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6227
- Joined: 2005-04-02 10:54pm
- Location: South Cali... where life is cheap!
Chapt-R-FIC 3 – The MUSICAL episode!
Hazy fog lifted away slowly from Protagonist’s eyes some time later. How long? Only the Computer knows. He groans slowly to himself, moving to run a hand to his throbbing and bruised head, only to have it hit a stretchy rubber barrier on it’s way there. His eyes open further and vision clears to see the form of Work-R-BEE carelessly zipply zipping along in zipping a zipper over him.
Then he realized he was being sealed in a Clone Tested, Computer Approved, ‘Mr. Cadaver’ bodybag. With a scream, he claws his way up. “Work-R! It’s me! I’m not dead! I swear!” he cries out, bits of wall still meshed in his face from the impact.
Protagonist reaches upwards, pushing his way out of the bag. Work-R-BEE stands aside, gesturing towards the burly Side-R-KCK. “His idea.” She remarks with a distracted tone. She’s now reading the procedure for body disposal.
Side-R-KCK was standing there, addressing the other clones, including the newly replaced Emery-R-LEE-2, who looks particularly upset at having his laser guns taken from his other clone’s cold, dead fingers. Side-R-KCK is trying without success to find a way to attach the ‘team commander’ patch taken so carefully from Protagonist’s not-dead corpse. Our battered heroclone clears his throat. “Can I have that back please?” he turns his head down to the orange jumpsuit and the hole neatly ripped on his shoulder, revealing some rather scratched up skin from overeager nails digging in.
Loveint-R-EST runs over. “Oh, thank the Computer you’re alive! Now we have our dear leader back. Isn’t that great, Team?” she smiles back at the others. Side-R-KCK grumbles something about ‘foos’ and tosses the patch back balefully. Emery-R-LEE is busy of course, trying to polish up his highly dented laser pistol, and Soon-R-DED talks on and on about how promising things will be for him after this, his last mission until retirement, when he’ll settle down to an uninterested Work-R-BEE.
The little terminals spinning about his head start to slow, and Protagonist gets up. “We’re all for the most part, still alive I guess.” He starts to pocket the patch, when Loveint-R-EST catches his hand.
“Team leader, we can’t have you be walking around without a patch! That’d be unhygienic, and disloyal! I’ll go fix it, don’t worry…” she produces a standard issue garmet repair stapler, and then presses the patch to Protag-O-NST’s arm.
“Just wait a moment…” she says cheerfully.
“No, really, it’s hardly nessisary, Loveint-R—OWWW!”
“There. Done.”
Slightly bleeding with red-clearance blood, Protag-O-NST sighs. “Let’s… just find out where we are. R&D’s expecting us, and we’ve probably got a long way to go.”
Work-R-BEE reads her book closer, nose pressed quite deeply as the team starts to fall in line to travel. “I do believe we’re in BUM sector now. Far away from the nearest R&D facility. Regulations require us to sing a loyalty song of some sort… the computer is watching, after all.”
All eyes fall on Soon-R-DED, who is fiddling with his Snooptronic Multicorder, the eyes and ears of the Computer in the Field. The device which records every little bit of treason committed without flaw. The reason he’s wearing several patches showing his position as team recording officer, each of which follows the Recording Corp’s ‘concentric circle’ motif.
“Er… aw reckon aw can lead ya’. Since we’re goin’ to battle dem commies, reckon we could do the Battle Hymn of Alpha Complex. How’s that sound?” the slightly nervous, so-close-to-retiring clone offers.
Loveint-R-EST snaps her fingers. “Brilliant! Let’s start.” She smiles, the troupe bouncing now down the empty hallway with a light step. Song fills the air, the Computer supplying a tune.
Bum bum bum… (cue montage)
Mine eyes have seen the coming of another Commie horde,
If I hold them off alone Hot Fun is my reward,
"Please engage the menace, Citizen!" I hear on my comcord,
When will the Vultures arrive?
(Chorus)
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
My clones keep marching on.
They're advancing on all sides now and I'll soon be overrun,
I try to open fire but there's a malfunction with my gun,
So I toss a nuke grenade and then turn tail and run,
When will the Vultures arrive?
(Chorus)
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
My clones keep marching on.
The Commies are all vapor now and for that I'm real glad,
My geiger-counter indicates I took a thousand rad,
I check with the Computer and find out that's not too bad,
When will the docbot arrive?
(Chorus)
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
My clones keep marching on.
Moving along through the march, the valiant team suddenly stumbles across a dead Blue-clearance citizen, shot dead in this long and seemingly abandoned hallway. Gasps of horror escape everyone’s lips, as mandated by the Computer’s Predictable Facial Response Act of Yesterdaycycle.
“This foo’s got shot by at least twenty---thirty jibba-jabbin’ lasers!” Obvious Master Side-R-KCK exclaims, leveling his own laser pistol. Emery-R-LEE takes cover, diving. In fact, Protag-O-NST swears he is seeing something too! He draws his own pistol, only two of the six barrel rings glowing now. Down to two shots too. Hmm. He starts to walk away, and each of the troubleshooters fan out without another word, in anxious expectation of some evil communist hoarde. Just like the song said!
No commies arrive for the next several minutecycles however, just the rolling along of the routine Tumblebot, which signifies the place being completely abandoned thanks to Computer Cliché Act of Last Fridaycycle. Work-R-BEE shrugs. “There don’t seem to be anyclone else around..” she then starts to walk along, reading. The rest of the team follow with a hushed breath… as Soon-R-DED begins another song to kill more time…
*bum bum bum* (more montage of walking!)
I'm an Alpha Complex Dandy.
Alpha Complex do or die.
A new clone version of my last five clones.
Like them I know I'll soon die.
I've got an Alpha Complex sweetheart.
Teela is my Alpha Joy.
Troubleshooters find the Commies.
Beat the mutants senseless.
I am an Alpha Complex boy!
I'm an Alpha Complex dandy.
Troubleshooter do or die.
A clone replacement of my former self.
Soon I will probably fry.
I've got to serve my friend Computer.
If I don't, I know I'll die.
Kill the Commie infiltrators,
Also Troubleshooters.
I am an Alpha Complex guy!
Soon-R-DED laughs softly to himself as the song finishes, his own eyes spotting the doorway marked ‘R&D’ “We’re there! And we ain’t seen no communist mutants along the whole way… a new record!” he smiles with a toothy grin. “Awh reckon I see the sciency facility too! Shucks, this is great. I know I’ll make it through this, my last mission, and retire with mah clone family and everythi---“
Splat. Splorch. Additional noises indicating hideously censored violence. Everyone dives for cover, except Work-R-BEE who casually scoots behind some standard computer-issue cover, located conveniently in the hallways. Standing before the doorway now is a red-cloaked figure, with a large star upon his totally unauthorized hat. He’s also carrying a blue rifle, one laser ring dark. Clearly beyond his security clearance.
“Wait…! I recognize him!” Protagonist gasps. The figure nods darkly. “That is right, my old friend…” he grins, tipping his synth-fur hat down a little to further shade his eyes. “I’m Com-R-ADE, and you shall never succeed in your quest, capitalist computer-pig-dogs! I’m the greatest soldier of Tovarisch Len-I-NNN, and will never let you pass! Also, your singing is terrible. Let me try…”
I'm an Alpha Complex Commie.
Alpha Complex do or die.
A new clone version of my last five clones.
Like them, I know I'll soon die.
I'm not an Alpha Complex sweetheart.
Girls are just the same as boys.
Commie mutants beat computers.
Troubleshooters, phooie!
I'm not an Alpha Complex toy!
Com-R-ADE decides then to end his little tune with a burst of laser rifle fire, silencing any criticism of his song. Oh, mayhem, you may begin now.
Hazy fog lifted away slowly from Protagonist’s eyes some time later. How long? Only the Computer knows. He groans slowly to himself, moving to run a hand to his throbbing and bruised head, only to have it hit a stretchy rubber barrier on it’s way there. His eyes open further and vision clears to see the form of Work-R-BEE carelessly zipply zipping along in zipping a zipper over him.
Then he realized he was being sealed in a Clone Tested, Computer Approved, ‘Mr. Cadaver’ bodybag. With a scream, he claws his way up. “Work-R! It’s me! I’m not dead! I swear!” he cries out, bits of wall still meshed in his face from the impact.
Protagonist reaches upwards, pushing his way out of the bag. Work-R-BEE stands aside, gesturing towards the burly Side-R-KCK. “His idea.” She remarks with a distracted tone. She’s now reading the procedure for body disposal.
Side-R-KCK was standing there, addressing the other clones, including the newly replaced Emery-R-LEE-2, who looks particularly upset at having his laser guns taken from his other clone’s cold, dead fingers. Side-R-KCK is trying without success to find a way to attach the ‘team commander’ patch taken so carefully from Protagonist’s not-dead corpse. Our battered heroclone clears his throat. “Can I have that back please?” he turns his head down to the orange jumpsuit and the hole neatly ripped on his shoulder, revealing some rather scratched up skin from overeager nails digging in.
Loveint-R-EST runs over. “Oh, thank the Computer you’re alive! Now we have our dear leader back. Isn’t that great, Team?” she smiles back at the others. Side-R-KCK grumbles something about ‘foos’ and tosses the patch back balefully. Emery-R-LEE is busy of course, trying to polish up his highly dented laser pistol, and Soon-R-DED talks on and on about how promising things will be for him after this, his last mission until retirement, when he’ll settle down to an uninterested Work-R-BEE.
The little terminals spinning about his head start to slow, and Protagonist gets up. “We’re all for the most part, still alive I guess.” He starts to pocket the patch, when Loveint-R-EST catches his hand.
“Team leader, we can’t have you be walking around without a patch! That’d be unhygienic, and disloyal! I’ll go fix it, don’t worry…” she produces a standard issue garmet repair stapler, and then presses the patch to Protag-O-NST’s arm.
“Just wait a moment…” she says cheerfully.
“No, really, it’s hardly nessisary, Loveint-R—OWWW!”
“There. Done.”
Slightly bleeding with red-clearance blood, Protag-O-NST sighs. “Let’s… just find out where we are. R&D’s expecting us, and we’ve probably got a long way to go.”
Work-R-BEE reads her book closer, nose pressed quite deeply as the team starts to fall in line to travel. “I do believe we’re in BUM sector now. Far away from the nearest R&D facility. Regulations require us to sing a loyalty song of some sort… the computer is watching, after all.”
All eyes fall on Soon-R-DED, who is fiddling with his Snooptronic Multicorder, the eyes and ears of the Computer in the Field. The device which records every little bit of treason committed without flaw. The reason he’s wearing several patches showing his position as team recording officer, each of which follows the Recording Corp’s ‘concentric circle’ motif.
“Er… aw reckon aw can lead ya’. Since we’re goin’ to battle dem commies, reckon we could do the Battle Hymn of Alpha Complex. How’s that sound?” the slightly nervous, so-close-to-retiring clone offers.
Loveint-R-EST snaps her fingers. “Brilliant! Let’s start.” She smiles, the troupe bouncing now down the empty hallway with a light step. Song fills the air, the Computer supplying a tune.
Bum bum bum… (cue montage)
Mine eyes have seen the coming of another Commie horde,
If I hold them off alone Hot Fun is my reward,
"Please engage the menace, Citizen!" I hear on my comcord,
When will the Vultures arrive?
(Chorus)
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
My clones keep marching on.
They're advancing on all sides now and I'll soon be overrun,
I try to open fire but there's a malfunction with my gun,
So I toss a nuke grenade and then turn tail and run,
When will the Vultures arrive?
(Chorus)
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
My clones keep marching on.
The Commies are all vapor now and for that I'm real glad,
My geiger-counter indicates I took a thousand rad,
I check with the Computer and find out that's not too bad,
When will the docbot arrive?
(Chorus)
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
Glory, Glory, Hail Computer!
My clones keep marching on.
Moving along through the march, the valiant team suddenly stumbles across a dead Blue-clearance citizen, shot dead in this long and seemingly abandoned hallway. Gasps of horror escape everyone’s lips, as mandated by the Computer’s Predictable Facial Response Act of Yesterdaycycle.
“This foo’s got shot by at least twenty---thirty jibba-jabbin’ lasers!” Obvious Master Side-R-KCK exclaims, leveling his own laser pistol. Emery-R-LEE takes cover, diving. In fact, Protag-O-NST swears he is seeing something too! He draws his own pistol, only two of the six barrel rings glowing now. Down to two shots too. Hmm. He starts to walk away, and each of the troubleshooters fan out without another word, in anxious expectation of some evil communist hoarde. Just like the song said!
No commies arrive for the next several minutecycles however, just the rolling along of the routine Tumblebot, which signifies the place being completely abandoned thanks to Computer Cliché Act of Last Fridaycycle. Work-R-BEE shrugs. “There don’t seem to be anyclone else around..” she then starts to walk along, reading. The rest of the team follow with a hushed breath… as Soon-R-DED begins another song to kill more time…
*bum bum bum* (more montage of walking!)
I'm an Alpha Complex Dandy.
Alpha Complex do or die.
A new clone version of my last five clones.
Like them I know I'll soon die.
I've got an Alpha Complex sweetheart.
Teela is my Alpha Joy.
Troubleshooters find the Commies.
Beat the mutants senseless.
I am an Alpha Complex boy!
I'm an Alpha Complex dandy.
Troubleshooter do or die.
A clone replacement of my former self.
Soon I will probably fry.
I've got to serve my friend Computer.
If I don't, I know I'll die.
Kill the Commie infiltrators,
Also Troubleshooters.
I am an Alpha Complex guy!
Soon-R-DED laughs softly to himself as the song finishes, his own eyes spotting the doorway marked ‘R&D’ “We’re there! And we ain’t seen no communist mutants along the whole way… a new record!” he smiles with a toothy grin. “Awh reckon I see the sciency facility too! Shucks, this is great. I know I’ll make it through this, my last mission, and retire with mah clone family and everythi---“
Splat. Splorch. Additional noises indicating hideously censored violence. Everyone dives for cover, except Work-R-BEE who casually scoots behind some standard computer-issue cover, located conveniently in the hallways. Standing before the doorway now is a red-cloaked figure, with a large star upon his totally unauthorized hat. He’s also carrying a blue rifle, one laser ring dark. Clearly beyond his security clearance.
“Wait…! I recognize him!” Protagonist gasps. The figure nods darkly. “That is right, my old friend…” he grins, tipping his synth-fur hat down a little to further shade his eyes. “I’m Com-R-ADE, and you shall never succeed in your quest, capitalist computer-pig-dogs! I’m the greatest soldier of Tovarisch Len-I-NNN, and will never let you pass! Also, your singing is terrible. Let me try…”
I'm an Alpha Complex Commie.
Alpha Complex do or die.
A new clone version of my last five clones.
Like them, I know I'll soon die.
I'm not an Alpha Complex sweetheart.
Girls are just the same as boys.
Commie mutants beat computers.
Troubleshooters, phooie!
I'm not an Alpha Complex toy!
Com-R-ADE decides then to end his little tune with a burst of laser rifle fire, silencing any criticism of his song. Oh, mayhem, you may begin now.
-
Singular Quartet
- Sith Marauder
- Posts: 3896
- Joined: 2002-07-04 05:33pm
- Location: This is sky. It is made of FUCKING and LIMIT.
This story is very good!
It's making me a happy citizien!
Keep up the good work, Tovarich - No! I mean citizien, of course!
It's making me a happy citizien!
Keep up the good work, Tovarich - No! I mean citizien, of course!
"It appears that our minds will never meet on this subject."
"If someone asks you why you're oppressing a world and you reply with a lot of poetic crap, no." - Lord of Light, Roger Zelazny
"If someone asks you why you're oppressing a world and you reply with a lot of poetic crap, no." - Lord of Light, Roger Zelazny
-
Nephtys
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6227
- Joined: 2005-04-02 10:54pm
- Location: South Cali... where life is cheap!
*summarilly executes*Hendrake wrote:This story is very good!
It's making me a happy citizien!
Keep up the good work, Tovarich - No! I mean citizien, of course!
Anyway, next chapter is on the way. Any feedback/notes on this? I don't write fanfics much, oddly enough. Despite being such a freakish fan of stuff. And having no talent, save the ability to be odd.
