All the stories I'm posting are split like this...
Act I Part I
Act I Part II
Act II Part I
Act II Part II
You can also find it on DeviantArt...play rough and let's get it on!
Four sets of footprints started towards different endpoints. One had been unleashed as decoy for the unsuspecting all around them. The three remaining headed for a low range, mid range and high range apex to (in a clichéd sense) bring down hordes of an unseen enemy.
The head of the quartet was McRay. Like any other male stereotype, he was a man who could discharge his unborn children along his underwear at the thought of action. He’d never confess (even at gunpoint) to the fact that it would never erase the truth that he had a Napoleon Complex. How else could a 5’ 1’’ man love the vice his bloodlust has on him, yet never be able to understand satisfaction?
His immediate protégé, Carlyle, seemed all too polarized from McRay to even work with him even in this unorthodox partnership. Other than being exactly 6’0’’, she operated as a slave to stealth. To say she made ninjas look like Las Vegas showgirls is an understatement. What she would never confess to was her intense, carnal lust for McRay. Like much of her personal matters, Carlyle does her best to seal off anything to prevent friend and foe from seeing her sweat.
The third, keeping his mix of gunmetal gray and Arabica roast brown eyes on the hordes, was Charlie. What McRay has in ferocity of the flesh, Charlie complements in his ability to conjure up twisted yet effective ways for foes to meet their nadir. Yet like all involved, he’s too much of a pussy to even think of confessing his shortcoming. Like Carlyle, he has an undying lust for McRay. Any time he has to himself, Charlie wishes McRay was there to accompany him to a certain landmark (in a loose sense of the word) each and every time he closed his eyes and mentally wandered.
Finally, the aforementioned decoy unleashed to the masses, was Catya. The only shortcoming she possesses is a miniscule but existing shred of regret every time she unleashes hell on her foes. Although, no one would ever suspect such humanity from a woman who lets forth epic tales of conquest when she vanquishes targets into pulps of dark blood. No member of the crew knows what can drive one being (let alone 5’ 6’’ Catya) into the state of mind to act on such ruthlessness. Despite her undisciplined gusto, Catya is often showered with accolades for her duties. Although the men have sensed, had it not been for the group’s overall similarities, Catya would take Carlyle for a no holds barred showdown of strongest female. The burning disdain in her eyes for Carlyle could easily destroy the world. They knew better than to let petty things like simmering hatred for one another deviate them from what they were to do. In this particular case, they were hell-bent on destroying legions of LMFAO fans.
“They make my fucking skin crawl! Hurry up and have me start making them disappear McRay!” said Catya. “I can’t have you going agro on targets quite yet. Pretend like you know what patience means.” He replied. “Besides it’ll be another fifteen minutes before I can give you the go ahead.” “Oh no...” Carlyle began. “...is that goddamn chief-of-police trying to ‘mediate’ and ‘resolve’ the conflict?” Charlie added in, “We might be lucky! Some of those LMFAO fans are actually ‘intimidating’ enough to where the chief is running like a pussy!” McRay had had enough of waiting around. His simple command to Catya hadn’t changed a bit. “Time to play kiddo!”
With those four words, Catya began the charge. When she caused enough destruction to be noticed. McRay, Carlyle and Charlie began the onslaught. McRay and Catya had each eviscerated the LMFAO fans unfortunate enough to be in their paths with savage and merciless brutality. “You can be ‘Sorry for Party Rocking’ all you want. You still deserve to die!” she would shout. Carlyle had her less brash methodology; she would lurk in the shadows, wait for her targets to lose guard, then cap off their existence with a shot to the head. Charlie would sadistically lead fans on a chase for his head. Then he would duck out and watch every last one get run over by an eighteen wheel truck convoy. “LMFAO road p-i-z-z-a! How sickeningly quaint.” He said to himself. Three hours and fifty minutes later, not one fan of LMFAO (at least in the vicinity) had been able to escape the crew and had died that day.
“They’re gone already?! Oh wait, there’s always more of these idiots!” Catya said. McRay chimed in promising, “There’ll be more times to play around. Please act like you know what restraint refers to.” Carlyle rebutted, “Don’t give us that trifling bullshit! You were just as savage as she was!” Charlie mediated the fight by reminding everyone else, “In case y’all have forgotten, we just did...this to a group of morons; and right on cue, that damn chief-of-police is rounding up all the precinct policemen. So quit your bitching, loot what you can and let’s get the fuck out of here now!”
All had made it to their hideout. It was the only bookstore that hadn’t gone under thanks to e-books and such. The only way they acquired the bookstore was through tough negotiating. The woman who ran the bookstore, Mama Joseph, wouldn’t let anyone buy out the bookstore. After explaining that they wished to preserve what was left, Mama Joseph had agreed to pass over the bookstore. Sadly, before it was time for the crew to pay Mama Joseph, she passed away. Even worse, it was later revealed that her autopsy results were delayed from being released when the coroners were on Twitter trying to find out when their favorite artists were coming to town on tour. That moment became the catalyst for them to “End the Trend”. To honor Mama Joseph, a mural painted in the blood of the coroners hangs in the back of the store. Along with her visage in AB negative blood, a sign scrawled in jet black reads “End the Trend”.
After their bounty in the LMFAO horde mission, the crew took one of the phones and discovered they already have an impending mission. “We just came back, and now we find there’s more to do with these nimrods?!” Catya said. “Even I am in no mood right now.” Carlyle retorted, “Chill out nutcase; it won’t happen for another two days.” What the crew had found out was after the incident was reported, Nicki Minaj had decided to organize a memorial concert for those who had died. “We’ll go over the pressing issues on how to make those bastards go ‘boom-bo-bo-bo-boom’ tomorrow. Rest up...maybe touch yourself or something. Any who, rest up.” McRay said. That night, Charlie got restless.
He knew his days of holding his lust for McRay were numbered. “Carlyle better not be feeling how I am right now.” He thought. While roaming towards McRay, he was relieved to find Carlyle was just sleeping. The thought of her and McRay made Charlie’s skin crawl. He continued on to the reason he had had cold sweats. McRay’s choice of sleepwear only intensified that tonight of all nights, Charlie’s carnal thirst for him had a 50/50 chance of quenching. When he stepped in the room, McRay suddenly awoke. “How the hell does he know I’m here?!” Charlie thought. “That man couldn’t even win a game of Marco Polo with Helen Keller because of his lack of subtlety.”
“I know two things; one, you ain’t here for a glass of water. Two, I ain’t a tall drink of water but I know damn well you’re thirsty. Care to divulge now?” McRay said. “The second thing you know is pretty much why I’m here.” Charlie retorted. McRay arose from his covers, stripped Charlie of his t-shirt and trunk cut boxers, kissed him and said, ”Unless you came already, come to me...then on me.” The two proceeded to screw like jackrabbits the rest of the night. When they awoke next to one another, McRay said, “Thanks for last night Sugarcane. Now let’s wake up the others and go over what to do for the mission.” Catya chimed in, “Oh we’re wide awake. You two could’ve had a noise violation notice every time you switched positions. Oh, and McRay; I never thought you would bottom that much. I’m now nicknaming you ‘abyss’. I think you know why.”
Thirty minutes later, the crew met up to brief over the mission to vanquish the hordes at the upcoming memorial concert. “What type of security are we expected to deal with?” McRay asked. Carlyle replied saying, “Not much heightened security. All we’re dealing with is a 24.5% increase in security.” “So it’s just four more of everything to ‘heighten’ protection?” Charlie asked. Catya retorted, “Well not exactly four more of everything. That would’ve taken effort on the police’s part.” “Fair enough...” McRay said. “Now one more thing; do we use our standard weapons or do we revive our custom pieces?” “These are merely Nicki Minaj fans.” Carlyle began. “Yet we might be able to get rid of every last one of them. Let’s use our custom weapons.” “Oh goody! I get to play with my ‘special’ toy!” Catya exclaimed. “Don’t work yourself in a frenzy kiddo! Save up the strength.” McRay said.
The crew then went to the storage unit where each of their custom weapons lay. McRay’s signature weapons were the farthest left from the others. A custom Makarov pistol, a left brass knuckle and steel toed luchador boots were what McRay used for the crew’s first mission. Carlyle’s weapon was next to McRay’s assortments. An oilpaper umbrella with a damningly sharp short sword attachment from the handle. The color scheme kept Carlyle’s subtlety in tune; dark ochre and Ming blue intertwined into a flower surrounded by a charcoal gray background. Charlie’s main weapons were a halberd customized to resemble a scythe’s edge and Spartan strength shield scaled down for portability. Then Catya’s weapon of choice was fashioned after her video game character from the Soul Calibur series, Tira.
Taking the design scheme of Tira’s bifrost with the overall strength of the eiserne drossel, Catya’s ring blade was a visually stunning item for doling out graphic deaths. “It’s been some time since we’ve used these, but I think tomorrow will be the perfect reason why.” Catya said.
All slept peacefully until a noise was heard from near the back. Each member rushed towards the presumed foe. Instead it was an old friend who the crew rescued in one of the earliest missions. “Wow; you managed to find us.” McRay said. The old friend was now a runaway girl named Dolly. “How the hell did you track us down?” Charlie asked. Dolly replied, “I only remembered the name Mama Joseph. The rest of you had disappeared so fast to even mention your names. After my parents had passed on of natural causes, I escaped from my homestead. All I had to go by was the name Mama Joseph to go by. I just found this bookstore...all I saw was a small back window which is how I finally met you all again.”
“Beautiful story...but how do we know you’re fully on our side?” Carlyle asked. “I have no ill will towards people nice enough to save me.” Dolly responded. She then looked at McRay and Charlie and said, “It’s so wonderful to see love.” Catya said, “You’re welcome to stay. Now get some sleep.”
The next morning, the crew with Dolly acting as a new member set out for the new venue for the memorial concert. It was how Dolly became a new member. When she set her things down, Dolly noticed one of the cell phones from the LMFAO mission.
On the phone, it was revealed that the venue would be moved to a makeshift arena in the outskirts of town.
Five sets of footprints boarded the very same (surprisingly still mint condition) blue dune buggy used by the Pussycat Dolls in their first music video “Don’t Cha”. Dolly wondered, “How’d they scrub all that skank off this thing? No wait; how’d they live after scrubbing all that skank off? Screw that cheesy Greek gods movie; I’m associated with real life immortals.” When the quintet assumed their positions, they were shocked to see that security had been heightened more so than presumed. “Oh Christ!” McRay shouted. “There’s not four more of everything. There’s eight more of everything.” Catya said, “You really suck at displaying sarcasm properly.” “Jenkies, Velma. Did you need Scooby-Doo to help you solve that fucking mystery?” McRay retorted. “How funny. Ever consider working for SNL with that brand of comedy?” Catya responded. “Last Comic Standing called; they want their hacky material by 8/7 Central.” Carlyle said. “If amateur night is done now, we need a way to get through the ‘surplus’ of defense here.” Charlie said.
Dolly then pulled out a surprisingly well crafted bomb. “This should work out just fine.” The rest were rendered speechless. “How the hell did you have that prepared by today?!” McRay queried.
“There was this wonderful book written by Stephanie Meyer or something like that.” She replied. “Dolly, Stephanie Meyer is responsible for the ‘Twilight’ series. How did that make you want or...actually make such a well crafted bomb?” Carlyle asked. “If she can make four bombs in four books, I figure one could make me do about four times that.” Dolly responded. “Anyway, the bomb should get rid of any horde member within...50 yards.” “Were either of your parents military experts?” Catya asked. “No, but my Mom did fuck a lot of sergeants and colonels before meeting my Dad; any who, less banter more bedlam!” Dolly replied. She picked a nice group of people to experience agony before death. “Are you sure you can throw that thing?” Carlyle asked. McRay chimed in, “That’s the size of Oprah’s thyroid. How can you throw that thing?” Before either Catya or Charlie could speak up, Dolly threw the bomb a little far up of her target. Still, the explosion was enough for frenzy to ensue. “Was that Hiroshima without all that icky radiation I just saw?” Charlie said. “I don’t give a fuck what that was!” McRay began. “I know a signal to attack when I see one.” The quintet then headed for the hordes in a massive charging front. “End the Trend!” they would shout commandingly.
While Carlyle, Catya and Charlie had no trouble with the hordes they were after, McRay was actually having difficulty attacking massive horde members. Dolly saw this, but knew she alone couldn’t help him out. She signaled Charlie from afar, and when Charlie saw McRay he jumped to Dolly’s position. After getting positioned just right, the two went on to deliver a devastating combination on the hordes acting problematic for McRay. “I...uh...well...you know.” he shrugged. “I know that’s alpha male for thanks for saving my ass.” Dolly said.
Two hours had elapsed when the crew noticed not a single foe was left. Carlyle looked in every inch of the grounds for any hidden trap. “Nothing indicates that we might get fucked over.” Catya saw a note on their dune buggy that presumably proved otherwise. Dolly read the note aloud; it read “I too, seek refuge from this horse-shit. Meet me at the only café with no Wi-Fi or any type of internet access.” Charlie skeptically said, “How do we know there’s no bit of foolery or you know...bullshit?” Dolly responded, “I know it isn’t bullshit. Even he or whoever it is knows even the most Podunk cafes have Wi-Fi. That and they even gave the address; I scanned it and it’s to an abandoned Cas D’Oro Bar and Grille.” He responded, “Damn, they must really hate trends if they’re meeting us at a Cas D’Oro.” The quintet headed to where the note instructed. Much to their relief, it wasn’t some bullshit setup.
Catya was the first to recognize their new ally. It was her old friend (and much to her relief a recovering hipster), Luke. “I never thought you would surface as a clean man again Luke.” Catya said. “Chill out, bitch. I was a hipster. I’m almost clean of the hipster thing and back to hating trendy shit properly.” Dolly was elated to meet Luke. “Now we have three gay guys who get off on action and this pseudo mercenary thing we do.” Luke queried, “How’d you know?” Dolly responded, “You gave her eye contact. Straight guys don’t give eye contact to women.” McRay chimed in, “For the record, there are two gay guys and me who thinks variety is the spice of life.” “Variety?!” Catya shouted. “You’re on the bottom more times than stacked items! You couldn’t top off an alcoholic drink! You take more pounds than a British cash register! You are to versatility what Fox News is to tolerance! McRay, stop denying it! You are gayer than Johnny Weir’s dildos.” Dolly said, “My turn! You’re gayer than Kathy Griffin’s fan base! Do I smell Pinkberry or did you just shit yourself?” Charlie jumped in, “So what if he’s as straight as a properly inflated beach ball? All you’re doing is revamping the same jokes I heard when I was seven!”
“Any who, Luke...” Carlyle began. “...how did you hear of us anyway?” Luke recounted his hearing of the then quartet, when word of the LMFAO Massacre had made cultural tremors. “When I saw Catya’s weapon, I knew she was still around. More importantly, she found a group to vibe with. When I saw the small one head into the bookstore...I knew Catya would be among you all. I even remember them saving you from that awful “Twilight” premiere small wonder!” “Well let’s head back to base quick!” Charlie said. “Why?” Catya asked. “There might be a chance that the store could’ve been destroyed in retaliation!” he said.
Luckily, the bookstore was still intact. Once in, Luke noticed the painting. “Was she the owner?” he asked. “No shit, Sherlock.” Carlyle said. “She’s pretty much our biggest source of inspiration in taking down trend whores and making them dirt for...begonias to blossom.” “If she degrades you then explains to you her point, she’s just warming up to you.” Charlie reassured. “If that’s warming up, her pussy must be colder than the Arctic Circle.” Luke snided. “Buck up.” Charlie began. “Besides; I plan on visiting McRay again.” “You two in love or something?” Luke asked. “I’ve always had a thing for guys like him.” he replied. “Besides...it’s been a while since I’ve had more than one.” Luke agreed to assist him. That night he and Charlie headed to McRay’s space. When grunts were heard they presumed someone else was there with him. Fortunately for them, McRay was masturbating vigorously. “The poor thing needs help. You ready?” Charlie said. McRay knew he had visitors. He came to the entrance and said, “You can’t have enough can you?” “Hell no. That and I talked Luke into being the 3rd.” Charlie replied. McRay motioned them to the bed and said, “One free for all coming up...and down and on my face.”
All three proceeded to re-enact the movie Caligula in only a matter of hours. The next morning McRay, Charlie and Luke were woken up by Catya and Dolly. “Carlyle isn’t waking up.” Catya said. “I made sure it wasn’t me in a rage. The bitch just isn’t waking up.” They all ran to Carlyle’s space to try and revive her. Nothing was working; Then Dolly noticed something of Carlyle was off. “Is it me or is she unusually asymmetrical?” she asked. McRay lifted the cover to notice Carlyle’s lower region was slightly askew. “There might be our answer...here goes.” He spread her legs to see that betwixt them...was a charcoal gray cylinder protruding outwards. “What color was her sword again?” Luke asked. “It might be red now.” Charlie replied. McRay then proceeded to have everyone’s fear realized. He pulled out the sword attachment to her parasol like weapon out of her Umbrella-ella-ella...to see the blade enveloped in blood. “Oh my God!” Catya exclaimed. “She gave herself a ‘Russian Tampon’!” The crew called a coroner friend of theirs to explain how they found Carlyle.
He explained to them, “From what you tell me, she didn’t commit suicide. I’d be more than willing to help you further, but I had my license revoked when I wouldn’t get an account on FaceBook.” Dolly asked, “Do you know of any coroners with no social media site accounts who can help us?” He said, “That are still active? I’m afraid not; yet there’s a slim chance that a coroner by the name of Sydell Robér barely has a Twitter account. She works at the Hipster Coroner’s Offices.” “Hipster Coroner’s Offices...” Luke began. “Oh! An ‘undertaker’ pun gone horribly awry? Some SNL writer must’ve dabbled in commercial real estate to come up with that crap.” The other coroner said, “No. All the other SNL writers still have their mark in history...if you still happen to fancy being masochistic.”
The crew proceeded to the offices hoping Sydell hadn’t been consumed by the wired culture. “Oh shit!” Catya shouted. “Someone’s showing off FaceBook to a resistant person!” McRay instructed Dolly to infiltrate the offices to save who they thought was Sydell. What was discovered was far worse than they thought fathomable. “No. It can’t be; Sydell is actually trying out FaceBook on the job.” Dolly said. “Oh goddammit!” Catya shouted. “Who the hell would look at FaceBook as opposed to helping out pseudo mercenaries figure out who/what gave a woman a ‘Russian Tampon’?!” Dolly then went ape-shit on the person instructing Sydell to try out FaceBook. “You motherfucking scoundrel!” Dolly roared. She then twisted the neck of Sydell’s co-worker/enabler.
“Thank you for that.” She said. “We got a reference to you from a colleague. Could you help us?” Dolly asked. Sydell consented to help out and asked for the crew to come in with the body. McRay explained how Carlyle was found.
From the moment she heard where the sword was pulled from, Sydell knew exactly what happened. “It wasn’t suicide.” She began. “It was murder...and after feeling the amount of applied pressure on the hilt, it was done by an outsider.” Charlie queried, “Was it by...oh say an LMFAO or Nicki Minaj fan?” She responded, “Nope; this was done by an ‘occupy’ protester.” McRay was shocked at the suspect analysis. “An ‘occupy’ protester?! How the hell did they...no; why would they want one of us?” Sydell noted that on the sword was invisible ink that was in code. “The code was slightly difficult to get at first. Not entirely because it’s a ‘complex’ code, but because it was kind of...poorly arranged.” She said. Luke asked, “What did the code or message say?” She replied, “Our Culture Cannot Understand Pariahs such as Yourselves...Watch As The SON sets one last time.” Catya said, “Why the fuck are they at Watson’s protesting corporate greed? That place doesn’t even accept State money.” “They’re not after corporate greed alone.” Sydell began. “After your mission with the memorial concert, several of the ‘#OccupyWatson’s’ took offense that they weren’t getting coverage on CNN for the ‘occupy’ cause.” Dolly was rendered speechless and was vexed at the cause of Carlyle’s death. “A bunch of fame whores killed her so CNN could cover their fucking protest?!” She shouted. “Sadly, yes.” Sydell said. “We know where to go now. Thank God you helped us.” McRay said.
Sydell urged them to move on to Watson’s if they wanted if they wanted to deal with Carlyle’s assailants once and for all.
Fifty five minutes later, the crew had reached the site of the “occupy” protest. “All right you attention seeking wastes of broken latex!” Catya shouted. “Which one of you sons of bitches gave our friend a ‘Russian Tampon’?!” A man in a purple fuzz hat, bell bottom jeans and unbuttoned hunter green jacket emerged to answer the crew. “You must be friends of the parasol protégé.” He began. “My name is Roger. I’m not jolly by any means especially when you bastards try to kill budding non trend stories.” Charlie chimed in, “You can stop right there. Every other city in the world has their own ‘occupy’ protest.” “Oh we knew we would be a flash in the pan until you robbed us.” Roger said. Before he could say another word, McRay, Luke and Dolly each subdued and assaulted Roger. McRay had Roger in a half nelson while Luke and Dolly punched each of his ribs. Catya was prepped to unleash hell on him, until he threw his assailants from his person. “That’s enough!” He roared. “If you want a fight, the least you bitches can do is pretend to fight fair!” Charlie pointed to what was left of his #OccupyWatson’s protest ground. “What? I fought them fair and square.”
Roger was livid. “You punk! Time for all of you to die!” For three hours, Roger managed to dodge ninety five percent of strikes from most of the crew.
The five percent of the other strikes came from Catya. Finally, Roger’s luck had run out. Her ring blade caught on to his bell bottom. She said to him, “Bye bye ‘Jolly Roger’. Say hi to all your dead cronies for Charlie. They miss him dearly.” Catya then slammed Roger against the pavement where he died on impact. “Oh...” she began. “That’s what protester blood looks like. It’s less hideous than I thought.” The crew headed back to their base. The sight of Carlyle’s space the way it was left them uneasy. “It didn’t bring her back, but it needed to be done.” Dolly said. “Besides, the three lovers need to get their freak on.”
“No we don’t...” McRay said. “I’m not in the mood anyway.” “Don’t want to end up the middle of the pig roast ‘abyss’?” Catya snided. “Oh fuck off!” he angrily retorted. The night went off without too much commotion. Charlie was concerned for most of the night about his macho man. “His ego needed deflating, but I can’t help but think McRay is feeling...fragile.” he thought. He sauntered off to McRay’s space to see how he was. “He must be feeling deflated. He went through the trouble of trying to pick out underwear for bed.” He called to McRay out of concern. “You holding up ok?” “Of course I am dude!” he said. “The ego means you’re recovering in a...really sick way.” Charlie said. “Sugarcane, I’ve heard worse things from better people.” He replied.
“Besides, I’m living a variation of the American Dream. Two dudes for one type of action; the other type for fun and cash I get on my own terms.” “You mean what we loot from those we kill?” Charlie asked. “For semantics sake yeah, but you get me, right?” “I do.” Charlie said. Catya came barreling towards the two. “Sorry for the bat out of hell method, but Dolly took off!”
McRay, Charlie, Luke and Catya searched for something that could at least be directed towards her disappearance. Then Charlie noticed the LMFAO horde mission phone had a blue flash. He read what was on there. “A vigil to commemorate Khloe Kardashian’s fragrance dying of low sale leukemia will be held at 9:00 am at the re-opened Cas D’Oro Bar and Grille.” Catya said, “She can’t be that far on foot...the dune buggy is still outside.” When reaching for their weapons, they noticed Dolly’s weapons were exchanged for Carlyle’s. They knew she meant business.
Racing through the streets, each member searched for Dolly. Then out of left field, Sydell contacted them. “Sydell! We can’t find Dolly!” Luke explained. “Don’t travel far.” She began. “She’s here at the offices.” When the crew got to the offices, they found Sydell at the front desk. “Where’s Dolly?” McRay asked. “She’s paying tribute to your fallen friend.” She replied. “Wait...Carlyle’s body is still here?” Charlie asked.
Sydell replied, “Yes. We thought her body would be transported to her hometown in a ...timely manner. However, her hometown forgot to send out the funeral home’s hearse on time because of an impromptu ‘Tim Tebow Day’. I wish I could make that shit up.” “At least we’re preoccupied with a ‘vigil’ for a goddamn fragrance.” Catya began. “Otherwise, we’d have to make two pit-stops today.”