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The Bible of Grima A Collection of the Tales of Grima

In loving Memory of John Grima

The Table of Contents This book is divided by universes. If there are multiple stories in one universe they will be in the same section, if a storyline takes place in multiple universes they will be lumped together.

Z-137&C-138 Double O Grima Initial G Farewell to Malta Space Grima One Roast Grima Vs. the Dream Team Meme Team God

Universes Z-137 and C-138

Double O Grima By: Timothy Mazzoleni

Pripyat, Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic, December 17th, 1989. 2200 hours: It was -7 degrees Celsius, and John was colder than liquid nitrogen. The cold was biting through his high-tech heated trench coat, a gift from his good friend in Malta. The CIA had sent John on his 60th mission for the agency. This location however, was new. He had been airdropped into Ukraine 3 days ago over the countryside, and using his wits, and his gadgets, he managed to sneak across the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone and into his mission area. John Grimas mission was to disrupt an arms deal with international terrorists. Grima had dealt with terrorists before. But these were different. Grima knew they had weapons that would put him at disadvantage. He would have to use his skills to get around them and destroy whatever they were trying to get out of the country. “I guess I better get some rest before tomorrow morning.” said Grima to himself. He stepped into one of the only seemingly intact apartment of the hundreds of in this building. The apartment was damp and cold, almost like a dead being, grabbing at his life force to keep him in this irradiated wasteland. Paint flaked off the walls like a fresh croissant out of the oven, and as the breeze swept through the room, pieces brushed the ground at his feet. Grima turned on his electric lantern to roll out his sleeping gear. He would be leaving at 0500 in the morning, before the sun came up, to give himself the advantage of being at the target location before his enemies. As he rolled out his sleeping pad, he took off his coat and gear and set them to his side. He began to prepare to mobilize for the next day. December 18th, 1989, 0500 hours: Grima awoke to the sound of footsteps on his level. He quickly gathered his gear and slipped on his trench coat. He slowly pulled his weapon from his coat. He couldn’t afford to take chances, even if he didn't want to kill. This mission banked on his success and he could not fail. He heard the steps getting closer. They sounded quiet. The person knew he was here. He prepared himself for conflict. The steps slowed to silent, and Grima whipped around the corner into the horrified face of a fox. The animal jumped backwards and turned tail, running down the hallway it originally came from. Grima thought “How could that animal survive in such high radiation areas? That poor animal should be dead.” Grima let his thoughts and questions slip, and he walked down the hallway, along the Soviet propaganda and gas mask instructions littered beside the dark path. As he made his way down the stairs, an updraft swept his trench coat to his side like a leaf being pulled from a tree. Grima thought about his snake, Solid. Solid would be getting anxious now, with his presence absent, and he would be longing for his arm. Grima doubled his pace across the courtyard and onto the street. He looked across to the car drop point. There it is. His dream car, and the car he had asked for on this mission. His heart ignited and he sprinted to his new whip. A Toyota AE86 Trueno. The perfect car for drifting in the heart of a power station. He grabbed the key from under the tire and unlocked the door. It was crisp and strangely familiar. He slipped into the seat, and started the brand new engine. It hummed to life and he now knew, he had lost his stealth factor. He loaded his supplies into the hatch and hopped back into the driver's seat. As the car warmed up he felt the seat wrap him like a blanket, and it reminded him of home. He slotted the car into 1st gear and set off to the power station, to finish his mission. December 18th, 1989, 0532 He tached up and down, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, handbrake, to 2nd, hold the slide, regain traction, upshift. He screamed the car through the car's power band and onto the premises of the Chernobyl. The powerstation had detonated in 1986, and had caused the biggest nuclear spill in history. Not only this, but Grima was aware of the risk of terrorists getting ahold of the weapons-grade uranium inside the reactor, and using it for WMDs. Grima slid into the main structure of the power plant, and hopped out of the Trueno. Grima grabbed his pack, slipped his trench coat on, and walked through the reactor 4 control room door. As he walked in, he immediately used his russian skills to read the controls, and reached for the lever to kill the lights. The lights flickered, there was a whirr, and then silence and darkness. The spare generator had been disabled which shut off the last of the lights in the compound. And then he heard them. The thunder of suvs rumbling down the courtyard concrete. The suvs came to stop just outside the main structure. Grima prepared for a fight and prepared his gear and tightened his back pack. He then activated his night vision contact lenses and walked out of the control room.He saw the criminals walk through the main structure opening. He saw the case on a trolley and the second group, assumedly the buyers of the uranium, walked through as well. Grima waited for them to be in position and to give them a false sense of security. The sellers and the buyers gathered around the product, and he pulled out his compact grenade launcher. He aimed and let the safety off, and let the grenade fly. It screamed through the air like a banshee and exploded with a shockwave and he felt the heat burn his facial hair. The men went flying and Grimas geiger counter went haywire. He sprinted out of the control room and down the stairs towards the reactor. The men recovered and began to fire their weapons at the spy. Grima heard the bullets ping off metal pipes and kept running through the power plant. He decided to go with the plan and go to the roof. He sprinted up the stairs, and kicked open the door. He heard Russian yelling behind him but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Probably something about how he was a spy. No matter, he had to keep moving. “STOP!!” someone screamed behind him. “YOU MUST STOP NOW!” Grima kept sprinting, towards the jump point. Bullets began to whiz by him in the night, and then, he felt it. He was hit. He doubled over and tripped over a roof pipe. And he sailed over the edge of the power plant. His life flashed before his eyes, and he saw Solid, sad that he was dead, he saw the Trueno burning, and he knew what he was to do next. “It’s time to retire” said Grima to himself. and he pulled the string on his backpack, deploying the explosive air mattress to land on and save his life. As he slammed onto the ground, he heard the men yelling above him, and he knew to run into the night to fake his death, and retire in Tokyo, to begin a new chapter in his life. Drifting.

Initial G By: Riley Currey

After many years of being in the service, Double O Grima decided to retire along with his Toyota AE86 150 HP. He had named it Vlad The Impaler, his one true love and the machine that will always have his back. You must be wondering what he is going to do with his life, a man that has seen so much that he cannot live a normal life. Alas, he was not going to live any normal life, since he has become the most notorious drifter in all the world and has never lost a race. The name of this champion is “Initial G”, the man who has never been at the beginning of the race or the end. The legend drifts in as soon as the light turns green and destroys all in sight. This night was different, the integrity of Vlad the impaler as a car was in danger -- by them saying it was an old piece of junk. The man who said these harsh words was none other than Salty Stef, a member of the Meme team a gang who were the fastest drifters in the world. These teams have never met because the drifting aura would be too great for any normal group of people. Only the extreme drifters can handle this aura and that was who was here to watch the extreme of the extreme. This night was a dark night, the fog was heavy, and the track as a unforgiving spiral down Mount Hotakadake. This night was nothing for Stef but what was bothering him was that Grima was not there, even though this is a norm. They begun the countdown Stefs’ car seems to glisten in the moonlight the light blue mazda FD with a scary 236 HP it was nicknamed the Doors to Heaven. Zeb the announcer counts down “Five, Four” while this is happening the fog seems to get denser and denser as the numbers get closer to Start. Zeb counts more “three, Two, One” and at that moment vlad the impaler flashes by like lightning and The Door to Heaven is neck to neck with him. They hit the first turn and Stef is able to drift it easily, but Grima is doing it to well it is like he is a god. Luckily this next one leads into a straight away and that is where Doors to Heaven is the best. “Stef is easily 500 meters ahead now, is this the end for Grima” says Zeb, But, in that moment, you hear Grimas tires scream like the car is not willing to give up. “This ten year old car still has some spunk” says Grima coming up on the trench. This is a place on the mountain where the track loops around over a deadly drop but in theory if one was going fast enough they could jump it to get in the lead. This would be impossible in the weather though with the fog no one could even see the other side. Stef was still very far in the lead almost past the trench grima knew he had to do something he had to do it. Vald the impaler's revved to a higher note than anyone though it could at that moment Zeb realized what he was going to do. “ No, he wouldnt that is a death sentence” says Zeb as grima Drifts into position and hits the turn to jump. Then, Grima says to Vlad “ we have had a great run, but give me more power” the car hears him and revs more and more as they drift off the edge. The crowd is silent they could see nothing through the fog, assuming he was dead zeb says “The legend seems to have lost in the most epic attempt to win, he will be remembered. This seems just to be Stef's victory lap.”. As Stef is about to go around the last corner by the trench A shining light appears, it is Grima landing on the track with a perfect drift around the last corner. Stef’s fighting spirit is hurt he desperately tries to get ahead of Grima but it is impossible and Grima drifted into the end of the course then disappearing into the fog. While all this is happening the crowd is chanting “Initial G,Initial G,Initial G,Initial G”. This was a endless chant and it consumed Stef he did not even make it to the finish line. As Zeb helps his team mate out of his car he says “Grima wins yet again, for now”. Then the team vows to defeat Grima no matter what it takes. A few months have gone by and grima has not raced since the day with Stef. The drifting world had seemed too quiet lately it was scaring him. Grima would barely get any sleep anymore, he has been having withdraw symptoms from not racing anyone. He can only sleep in his trusty car Vlad. The day was coming to an end so grima thought to himself “it is time to go to bed”. As he walked over to Vlad something seemed off but he decided not to check it out and got to bed in Vlad. The next day he woke up and there was a Mc.Fonald Milkshake on his windshield. Grima was startled, the milkshake had been talked about in Meme Team lore dating back to the first drift race. The milk shake represented a declaration of war, Grima got out of his car and saw that there was a note inside. This note read “Come race at Mount Everest and win, Or else your beloved Vlad will die”. Grima was very confused his car was right here though, he looks at it and sees that it is not Vlad but just a cheap museum AE86. How could he not have realized it, he was just too tired to see the changes. All his years in the spy service and he had lost his Vlad due to his laziness. He had to make it there, there was only one way to get there with Speed GMO. Speed GMO is a moped Honda NSC50R with 200 Horsepower a real work of art. Only one of these where ever sold because they are so EXTREME and DANGEROUS. Then grima zooms off into the sunset to save Vlad. After a few weeks of travel grima arrives at Mount Everest, Grima is very unkempt his hair seemed to grow twice as long as it was to the point where it had to be put in a man bun. That was not even the worst of it his beard had grown a foot longer. Grima could now be described as someone that is in a biker gang but he drives a moped. This man will not stop for anything until he gets his identity back, Vlad the Impaler. He works way up the mountain hitting all the curves drifting at ungodly speeds, but something was very different about grima his eyes had a fire in them. Grima was almost to the top the road was starting to get icy and he needed to put on his oxygen helmet so he could breath at the speed he was going. Grima Finally reaches the top and sees Vlad with four tire boots on it, This was just too much for him to handle he had to save his only partner. Grima is at last at the finish line where Zeb and Riley have been waiting for weeks, they see him and start their cars. Zeb’s car was a volvo 240 with 200hp Nicknamed “Meme mobile” and next up was Riley’s a Ford explorer 1991 with 175 hp Nicknamed “Big Bertha”. Both these cars are revving at the start, the announcer approaches the one and only David Hasselhoff then says “ This better be a great race, because if it isn’t I would have not gone through the hassle to get here” who seemed unaffected by the intense drifting aura. The countdown starts the engines increase in power as number get to one then Hasselhoff says it “GO”. They our off normally in a drift race there our only two cars but with three there is a huge risk. Riley has the lead already heading up on the 3rd drift but something seems off he hits the drift around the corner. Then he heads to the next on but nobody is behind him, he assumes he took a shortcut and says “haha suckers”. Then he sees the next drift and goes to hit it, then sees that it is a cliff warning. This realisation was too late, then Riley falls to his death but in the wake of it starts a deadly avalanche. Seeing this Grima and Zeb speed up as fast as they can, this race was not for pride anymore it was for life. Zeb and grima our neck and neck about to hit the hardest drift in the world this is called a “Ice Solar Drift”. No one has ever done one of these and lived to tell the tale, they are getting closer and closer to it. At that exact moment Zeb’s meme mobile wheel pops and he is consumed in the white cloud of snow. That was the last that was seen of zeb but a man such as that can never die and will always live in your hearts. This did not matter to grima he had to live to find Vlad in this mess. He hits the Drift it was so fast that it felt like his beard hairs were getting ripped out one by one even through his helmet. Then he sees himself in what seems to be the future he is a space drifter, oh how he longed to be one. Then he hits the finish line riding only on the metal rims of his moped the tires seemed to have melted off and melted all the snow coming at him from the avalanche in his last drift. Hasselhoff say “ oh boy that was worth the hassel” then disappears into the sun set. Grima kicks away his moped and runs to the mountain sized mound of snow and starts digging to find Vlad but he never does. legends say that you can still see him digging in a desperate attempt to find his loving Vlad the Impaler. Also his family members say that he when back to malta to start a new. “The first one sounds way cooler though” says the narrator John Grima.

Farewell to Malta By: Kevin Briggs

The resistance movement was growing quickly, within three weeks the protests had spread from Gozo to the main island. People from all over Malta had begun to take a stand against the highly oppressive Maltese regime. What started as small-scale agricultural strikes and peaceful protests had quickly evolved to riots. It seemed that the entire working class was on their feet and fighting to overthrow Grima regime. The regime tried to regain control of the Maltese citizens by instituting nationwide curfews and martial law but they were only met with armed rebels supported by the Russian Mafia. After the King denied the protesters’ initial demands to resign and face criminal charges, insurgents from every island in Malta stormed the streets of Valletta. Their eyes were set on the former parliament building, now home to the tyrant who had taken hold of the government just over a decade before. Unbeknownst to the insurgents the head of state and public enemy number one, King Grima, had hidden a few blocks away from his palace with the rest of his cabinet in an underground bunker in Valletta. The bunker was constructed from cold clean concrete with four private rooms surrounding a center conference room. All the rooms were lit with yellowed fluorescent lights that flickered anytime you turned on one of the room’s closed circuit computers. The metal framed ripped cushioned furniture felt even more lonesome than the construction itself. The team was sitting around the meeting table in conference room waiting for Grima to stop pacing and sit down at the head of the table.

Struggling to form a plan, the man who had once ruled with an iron fist now looked towards his board of trusted advisors for a way out alive. With the help of a military escort, he might be able to carve his way through the protests to a military submarine stationed in the nearby docks. Luckily for King Grima, he still held most of the military’s allegiance because of his wartime leadership in the War of the Mediterranean in 2048. His tactical mind and guerilla strategies were able to not only win the war but also save thousands of Maltese lives. The trust he earned in the military was now keeping him safe in a military bunker out of the insurgents reach. His only way out probably was going to require the help of the Maltese soldiers. Grima was panicking; he could not stop thinking about what he could have done to maintain the forceful grip on his small home country. After years of controlling Maltese legislation, their country’s justice system, and even all of their citizens access to any form of news and media it was the Russian Mafia’s influence that would lead to the public’s hatred towards him. Lead by infamous Russian drug peddler, Emma Gist, the Mafia sought to gain control of Malta for the Russian government to use as a military base within the Mediterranean. Grima had to stop thinking about the past and focus on keeping himself safe. He reminded himself that he had to be careful when planning his escape because he was almost certain that one of his cabinet members was a puppet of Gist and her Mafia. He had to move quickly before the puppet leaked the whereabouts of their hideout. With the help of his lead strategist Kevin Biggs, one of John’s most trusted advisors and lifelong friend, started to plan his escape using the submarine before the Judas made themselves known. His intelligence updates informed him that the insurgents had breached the outer security of the parliament building, but they only had a couple of hours before they found out that King Grima had already fled. Although his security detail assured him that there was plenty of time to lay low, John had an uncomfortable feeling of utmost urgency so he decided to pull the trigger. Grima assembled a group of his closest staff members and made a plan on how to safely transport him three blocks to the port where the submarine was hidden. The group used one of the bunker’s private rooms to draw up a plan like a football formation. The plan had been formed and they were ready to step foot outside. With bodyguards forming a shape similar to a bird’s V formation they were able to quickly start cutting through the crowd without gathering too much attention. They had made it about half a block before some of the insurgents noticed them. When they rioters caught sight of Grima they got noticeably more agitated, that is when Grima got in some serious trouble. People started throwing glass bottles and bricks taken from pillaged buildings. His escorts did an honorable job intercepting most of the projectiles with their bodies. However, before they got to their safe house a block away from the port some of the bodyguards already fell to the Maltese rebels. Luckily, Grima was able to make it into the safe house without any sustaining any significant injuries. Grima’s cabinet opened the metal door and protected the entrance until they were able to shut and bar the doors to their retired military hideout. They had time to recover and count their losses. Grima looked to his advisors for help; they would have to adapt their plan to deal with some of their cabinet’s losses. At that moment, a metallic object crashed through the window and exploded. Smoke filled the room and sounds coming from all directions. Grima couldn’t see a thing and his eyes burned. He could just hear Kevin shouting for everyone to leave though the underground tunnel. Grima fumbled his way through the safe house tripping his way over objects to the stairwell where Kevin was waiting. From there Kevin, lead him through the tunnel where the rest of his advisors were waiting. After the long way through the tunnel, they were just across the street from the docks of the port. They would just have to make it safely to the sub. Completely ditching any plan or formation John Grima sprinted across the dock to the crew. Against all odds, he made it all the way to the military crew waiting to receive them. They boarded and took their places in launch protocol. The commanders filled the control room and Grima retreated to one of the bunkrooms. The submarine submerged and Grima had officially lost any control he might have left in his homeland; however, for the first time in weeks Grima felt safe. Unfortunately, his false sense of security would lead to his eventual demise. During the commotion in the safe house, Kevin had redirected Grima from the bigger group into a group of Russian Mafia members. Grima was too focused on trying to stay alive that he had not even taken note of the group escorting him. The person who covertly replaced his commanding military personnel, and now was in command of the submarine, was Emma Gist. Under the Russian Mafia’s control the submarine veered west out of the Mediterranean so they could drop off Gist in Russia just north of Finland before they stranded Grima alone in the Arctic.

Space Grima By: Zebulan Sheridan Robinson

The sun slowly crept around the horizon of the grey planet below, there was complete silence except for a single sound, the weak whirring of a small white 2329 N15san Sakana, with chipped paint and the words “The Hamajang Cicada” in neon purple letters. It's nearly an antique but definitely not in mint condition. The body of the ship curved in the shape of a fish with the solar intakes built into the sides and going down the body to the drift unit which is based at the tail of the ship. When activated the thrusters fan out to look like a fin. The ship gently shifted as the captain stirred from his rest. The room was littered with small snack bags, soda bottles, and wanted posters for a human, a Boanori, and a robot. Above the bunk he was climbing out of there were two more bunks both being occupied by his crew and coated in trash as well. After getting on his feat the captain in his tank top and boxers walks over to the doorless closet pulling up a pair of jeans and strapping them on with a belt of assorted tools and his laser pistol. He throws his bright red Hawaiian shirt on over his tank top and walks up to the front of the ship, strapping himself into the black felt seats of the cockpit and brushing cheeto dust off the console. He has a well trimmed head of black hear with bushy eyebrows and a pair of running shades. This is the tale of John Grima, Jr. space adventurer. With a swift movement of his wrist he released the emergency brake and moved his hand nio;to the shifter and slammed it into drive jacking the ship towards the planet barreling down to the nearest continent which had just begun to have light skate across it from the just rising sun. Moving the secondary shift gear up into third, then fourth, then fifth reaching a comfortable speed for his decent. After passing several layers of smog, smoke, and space trash he placed his other hand on the directional dial and pulled it to the left drifting through the sky and scraping the hull of the ship along the black top of a run down and abandoned Da Vinci. Thorned large flowered tendrils and vines creeped and crawled all over the empty buildings. The surrounding city echoed with the sounds of silence, not a single sound, not even a squirrel could be heard in this desolate wasteland. As he walked down out from the cockpit and through the hull he grabbed a helmet and pulled it over his head. After pushing a sequence of buttons on the side of the glass dome the rubber extended to his neck making an airtight space. He then took a tube from a hook on his belt and attached it to an input near the buttons he had just pressed. A small box containing a fan mounted on his belt began to whirr slowly. As he exited the bottom airlock a constant rustling was audile over the hum of The Hamajang Cicada. As he walked away from the hull he heard someone in the direction of the ship yell out at him “Ay Boss Mann! Whats with all the drifting and skids?! It's not even 9:00 in the Jorani Morning!” With a yawn Mr. Grima responded “Don't worry about it just wait inside and I’ll…” He froze in his placed and turned around to see a member of his crew, a friend, Solid. He was a member of the Boanori race long lanky humanoid creatures with scales and snakelike heads, and he had left the hull without a helmet. Grima started running towards him yelling “Get back inside now.” It was clearly to late, his friend had begun having a coughing fit, by the time Grima had reached him he was blubbering in buzzard tongues. Nothing he said made any sense as John grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder carrying him back into the ship. He rushed him into the common room clearing off the table of doughnut boxes and soda bottles. He then set Solid down where had just cleared and ran into the bunk room. He reached up to the top bunk and hit several buttons on a large metal box, he then stepped back attempting to slow his breathing. He then yelled at the unresponsive box “MT-3RT! Activate right now or I swear to ungalo I will dismantle you and throw you out the airlock over a dying star!” A gentle buzzing of decaying electronics emanated from the top bunk and a tall figure lowered itself from the bunk on two cables attached to the ceiling, and lowered onto a pair of tube feet and began to walk towards Grima rubbing his visual units and stretching. This was the residential robot of The Hamajang Cicada, A barely functioning MT unit. It was tall with a box head and a humanoid structure, more than half of its front facing panel was covered in many buttons. “Sorry GrimaaaaA-aaAAA” the bizarre yelling continued as the captain shook his head looking at the floor. He then entered a sequence of buttons on his front and slammed his side with the palm of his hand. MT’s yelling halted and the servos in its eyes dilated before starting again. “ Sorry about that Captain I still haven't worked out that kink in my software.” Grima turned down the corridor and motioned to MT-3RT to follow him beginning to talk “Nevermind that, I had to make a pitstop at S3-MW and Solid decided to just come out without a helmet.” MT beeped with a slight confusion and asked “What is so bad about that.” Grima turned towards the robot and erupted in frustration “You fool. Unlike you we need oxygen, and the oxygen out there is polluted with a neurotoxin that will make any oxygen breathing life form begin to hallucinate and eventually after extended exposure they will die. That is why it is a big deal!” Grima walked past the table with Solid on it and preceded to motion for MT to keep an eye on him. Grima stepped back out onto the blacktop and began jogging towards room fourteen hopping over vines and briefly checking in all the overgrown rooms to be sure no one else was there. Around room fifteen he heard several booms in the distance and he took his laser pistol, lovingly named SH4NK out from the holster on his belt and held it close to his chest turning around the corner. When he entered room fourteen there was a dankness to the air almost like he was in tropical climate. He walked towards the front of the room approaching a desk with a light blue glow and looked beneath it, his pistol drawn. Underneath the desk was a bright blue glowing succulent, it pulsated with clean pleasant light. When Mr. Grima saw this he exclaimed with relief “Well there that is then.” He took a mug from the top of the desk and scooped the plant into it gently, he then gripped his pistol and strided across the decaying room as he heard several loud energy shifts followed by a series of metallic thuds. One of the flowers on his shirt began to beep and he pressed the flower activating his communication device, MT immediately started screaming “Captain, captain we're not alone! There are five ships from the Milky Way Police Department around the ship, they are demanding us to come out with our hands up. Neither of us have hands! What are we going to do!? Grimaaa-AA-aaaaa” Grima tapped the flower again turning off the channel. He proceeded to run towards the black top connecting the mug to a loop on his belt. From deep in the mist he hear a strong military sounding voice say “John, come out. We know you're here, it's not like anyone else in this quadrant would drive a beat up piece of junk like yours.” continued walking towards where he parked ducking behind cover out of caution. He eventually could see his ship, surrounded by two MWPD space bikes and three hovering patrol cars with eight armed officers all alert. The man continued, “You're a damn fool, ya know I thought you would have been smart enough to avoid this hell hole, apparently not. You and you and your space potato.” Grima ran out from his cover furious firing several shots from SH4NK aiming for the thrusters on the central patrol car. While doing this he screamed at the officers “No one calls my baby a space potato!” When he hit the thruster it exploded with a bright blue energy spinning it towards several officers and one of the other patrol cars, they opened fire the second they saw him and he promptly jumped and rolled attempting to get near one of the patrol bikes. He ran avoiding their shots then grabbing the accelerator on the space bike and throttling it as much as he could aiming it at the men standing near the entrance to his ship. After releasing it he followed its path of destruction eventually hopping back into the bottom airlock being swallowed back into the ship while under fire. He rushed into the common room to check on his crew and found Solid laying on the table with his eyes wide and drooling with MT hurriedly tending to him. Grima walking past them towards the front of the ship announced to them “We got it, now maybe if we can we get out of here.” He proceeded up to the cockpit and strapped himself in turning over the engine as he did so, starting up the engine and pulling the nose straight up and yanking the secondary shift gear straight into eighth gear in an attempt to get away as fast as possible. After piercing the curtain of smog and smoke under the atmosphere it was clear they weren't getting out of this in one piece there was a blockade of five more patrol cars waiting for them. He pulled the emergency brake and pulled on the directional dial with all of his might jacking the ship to the left then swiftly releasing the brake following an orbital path around the planet to aid his speed, at this point all the patrol vehicles were pursuing him. The ship shook and began to slow as they begun being fired upon, MT’s voice began coming through a speaker on the console “Captain they hit the left solar intake, we are losing mobility” Solid’s voice came over the speaker “Aye Greims! I got that toxin out in just a few good ol blood purifications!” The ship shook again, Grima pushed a button to respond on the wheel “Boys, were dealing with the MWPD, they don't send you to some hodunk little jail, they will send us to a prison on the galactic level.” They all fell silent as shots whizzed past them, eventually Solid broke the silence by asking “What are we going to do Grima? Were still slowing down.” Grima opened up a panel next to him with the words “Contingency Plan” printed in bold red letters, he then flipped the first switch with had the words “Fins” under it. A pair of thrusters emerge from the sides and the ship begins speeding up again. Grima moves on the the next two switches called “Drift unit” and “Drift unit booster”, he then moves into tenth gear and begins to outrun the officers but they hit the leftmost fin. Grima slowly activates his microphone and comes on over the speakers “I'm sorry Solid, MT, just remember if your in C block ask for Hermy Wubbz… He will do his best to keep you safe.” Solid began yelling over the speaker, “What are you trying to say!? You better not do what I think you are doing.” Mr. Grima took the mug and poured it into a tube titled “Fuel converter” and then hit the last switch as a single tear rolled down his face. Gaskets steamed and doors closed as MT came on for the last time “Don't do this Captain. Please Griemaaa-aAAA” He turned of the speaker and hit the emergency break jacking the ship sideways and then the cockpit released from the rest of the ship, the end of it erupted with a glowing blue thrust beam as he initiated an interdimensional drift. The space and time around him began to curve, and then the cockpit was gone.

One Roast Grima Vs. the Dream Team Meme Team By: Stefan Kaloper

It was a dark day for the citizens of Sivad, as their superhero John Mema had been defeated by the supervillains of the Dream Team Meme Team. Memas closest friends, Big Sean McCarthy and Cruzerino were mourning the death of their beloved friend and ally when suddenly the dimly lit graveyard shone brightly as a ball of fire seemed to explode out of the clouds above. The two gaped while it descended from the sky, as the object drew closer to impact it became clearer and clearer that it had been man made. The ground erupted as the U.F.O. crashed onto the meadow nearby ripping a long ditch through the once beautiful flowers. The object came to a halt at the edge of the meadow and as the smoke cleared, Cruzerino noticed the shadow of someone or something! “It cannot be!” he exclaimed as Big Sean fell to his knees. Out of the crash stepped a nearly identical lookalike to their just buried friend John Mema. They watched as the man shook his head adjusting his sight to the once again dark cemetery. He walked up to the two of them, “I am John Grima and I am afraid that I have been transported into an alternate dimension through a careless error while flying my spacecraft.” He paused expecting surprise, but the two friends simply stood their silently mouths shut. “Is this normal here?” pondered Grima aloud. Big Sean finally spoke “No but you seem to be your dimensions version of our best friend who died this very day!” he regained his composure, “Perhaps it was simply fate, the universe choosing to not allow two different versions of the same person to exist in the same dimension at the same time? Nevertheless if you are anything like Mema please save us from the Dream Team Meme Team!” “The Dream Team Meme Team?!” exclaimed Grima. “Why how could those bunch of fools pose any threat? I've had my fair share of encounters and victories against them in my own time! Why those rascals would need actual superpowers to pose a threat to anyone!” Cruzerino responded, “well they may have been weak wherever you came from, but in this place the Meme Team are considered the greatest threat to the galaxy!” They consist of a large numbered group, along with formidable division heads and are led by the terrifying Resident Memelord!” “Shhh…” whispered Big Sean, “how could you not already have noticed that the man standing before you is also clearly quite powerful” He pulled out a device which appeared to be a camera and took a picture of Grima. He then handed it to his companion who reacted to the image with shock. “What is it?” asked Grima, now quite worried. “His power level, it’s over 9000!” exclaimed Cruzerino as he began to bow down to Grima. “Please great one, save us from the terrible Meme Team.” Grima noticed how the faces of the two fellows seemed to brighten up, and he began to actually consider helping them out. “Fine then exclaimed Grima!” Lead me to these cretins who I must defeat!” Cruzerino and Big Sean nodded and they led grima to a remarkably familiar looking car. He choose not to comment as he happily entered this dimension's version of his old Toyota AE86 150 HP. The three headed down the road out of the cemetery and towards the large structure far off into the distance… “Grima!” Grima rolled over in his sleep and continued snoring in the back of the car. “Grima, you need to wake up!” Someone shook his arm and Grima got up blinking rapidly. “Waz goin’ on?” he asked still quite sleepy. The car seemed to hit something and the entire frame shook as Grima banged his head on the ceiling. Now wide awake he took a look out of the window realizing that they seemed to be chasing after a white van with the letter “THE MEME MACHINE” sprawled across both sides in sharpie. The group continued chasing after the car as Grima came to the shocking conclusion that it must have some significance to the Meme Team. “Could this be related to the Meme Team?” Grima asked already knowing the answer. “Could it be any more obvious?” responded Big Sean who quickly turned the car around a bend in the road. “That is one of the many supply vans from which the Meme Team bring various objects of importance to their fortress. If we can stop it and throw out the driver we can use it to sneak into the fortress!” Grima thought that sounded pretty smart but wondered however they could stop the van. As they rounded another corner Big Sean slammed on the gas and rammed the van into the rocky mountain face. For a moment the van seemed to stop moving and the group was hopeful that it would be so simple, but the driver seemed to recover as the van slipped by the group and sped off. “We can’t let them get away!” said Cruzerino, “This could be our best chance to get into the fortress.” Cruzerino picked up his phone and seemed to send out a text, “this car just can’t go any faster, I think we need some more help!” As if on queue a shadow appeared over the top of the van, and as Grima looked up he noticed that it was a mustang, “that's FisterMr” said Cruzerino, “We hate each other but he's obsessed with his car and loves racing it against others.” The mustang quickly caught up to the van and the two cars began pushing each other back and forth while driving across the precarious cliff edge. “Watch out!” yelled Grima as the van pushed the mustang halfway of the edge but the car just seemed to keep on going and rammed the van against the other side of the road. The mustang backed off and it seemed as if there would be one final clash to decide the result of this competition. The two cars collided in the center of the road and the mustang flew of the edge while the van flipped over and stopped for good. “Oh no” said Grima “can we save him?” “Not worth it!” said Big Sean, “He was always a jerk about his car anyways, if you ask me it’s like hitting two stones with one bird, or however that goes.” “Two birds with one stone” corrected Cruzerino. “Anyways let’s flip that van back over and use it to sneak into the Meme Teams’ fortress.” And the group did just that. A few hours later they had slipped by the guards and were now prowling around inside of the fortress. They felt they were making good progress towards the center of the fortress when they suddenly heard a strange rattling from the darkness ahead. Out stepped a very weird looking creature with no head and having the appearance of a salt shaker albeit with stick figure arms and legs. As the group stepped forwards the creature noticed them, and they were surprised when it spoke “Who are you?” asked the funky looking salt shaker. “We are here to get vengeance on our slain ally Mema and defeat the Meme Team once and for all!” shouted Cruzerino. The salt shaker trembled and it appeared to the group that it was getting angry, “Go ahead” said Cruzerino “I’ll handle him!” Grima and Sean wished him luck and ran past the overgrown salt shaker which started towards Cruzerino. “Let's do this” and Cruzerino raised his arms as if preparing for battle. However neither struck, as in this dimension there was no such thing as doing battle physically, rather opponents would throw out roasts at each other, but these were no normal insults, each had the power to kill if the recipient reacted badly enough to it. “What are you looking at you stupid looking overgrown salt shaker” said Cruzerino, “I’m gonna rip your whole career apart like the press did to Hillary Clinton!” The salt responded furiously “I’m no ordinary salt shaker! I am salt man created from the massive amount of saltiness people harbor towards one and other.” Salt Man moved towards Cruz “Don't you judge me about my appearance, besides, you look like George Lopez, David Schwimmer and Ray Romano had a terrible threesome resulting in a baby!” This continued on for some time with Salt Man clearly winning out. After a few minutes Cruzerino was on the floor defeated with Salt Man standing over him. “Ha you really thought you could defeat me?” he paused “I too was once powerless, born Stef Currey I had no abilities but was still taken in by the meme Crew who gave me a home and eventually developed these powers for me, and know I am among the greatest in existence!” Salt man laughed a corny villainous laugh but paused when he noticed Cruzerino smiling. “What is it?” he cried. “You've made a fatal mistake Salt Man, by revealing your backstory and true name to me you have left yourself open to the greatest roast of all time!” “And whatever could that be?” responded the salt. “Well…” paused Cruzerino “Steph Curry my ass!” he yelled. Initially Salt-Man appeared unfazed, but he quickly began crying out in terror as his body began breaking apart. “HOW DARE YOU!” he screamed just before his entire body shook violently and exploded. Cruzerino’s relief was short lasted however, as he realized that with Salt Mans death, so to would the massive quantities of saltiness stored within him be released to wreak havoc across the planet. “I shall stop you” cried Cruzerino, and he set the salt ablaze using his lighter. As if it was alive the mass of salt began writhing about in the flames and managed to latch onto Cruzerino before he escaped. Cruzerino cried out as the entire room collapsed with a bang and neither he nor the salt would ever be seen again. Grima and Big Sean turned looked back hearing an explosion, and hoping the best for their companion, hurried towards the central area. After passing through a large archway they appeared in a massive dark room surrounded by candles. Suddenly they noticed a ghostly figure appear in the center of the room, and as they were about to run by it, the spooky thing screeched “I am the Resident Memelord ruler of this place and leader of the Meme Team, what business do you have with me intruders!” “We are here to defeat you and save the planet” said Grima, and the two companions walked towards the Memelord when suddenly a light flickered from the balcony above and Big Sean flung himself in front of Grima just as some sort of blast exploded towards the two. Sean took the full impact and fell to his knees crying out. Grima tried to lift up Sean but realized that his body was changing and stepped back. Out from the darkness of the balcony stepped yet another opponent. “And I am Billiam Bazooka, 2nd in command of the meme team.” “if you thought you would get a fair fight then think again, were villains after all, and we shall use any means to defeat you!” He patted the machine which had fired at Sean affectionately, “This is the Mass Extinction Makeover Event device, codenamed M.E.M.E. and we shall use it to control the world!” “It can turn anything hit into an awful meme and absorb their power” said the Memelord. Big Sean’s body stopped moving lying facedown on the floor. Grima flipped him over and screamed in fear, “The Legend 27? How could you that is a terrible meme!” The two tricksters cackled as Grima set Big Sean down. He sadly put him out of his misery by once again whispering into his ear “The legend 27 is an awful meme.” He then turned towards the memelord who had already began preparing his attack, and said to him “All I see here are stale memes, everything you say is a stale meme, even you are a stale meme!” The apparition screamed and attempted to flee but was stopped by his former henchman Billiam. “What are you doing Billiam?” asked the Memelord. “You went stale long ago, now you're too weak to do anything including represent and lead the Dream Team Meme Team” responded Billiam. “Now I will use the M.E.M.E. device to steal away your power along with his” he pointed to Grima “Then I will be the greatest being in the universe!” Billiam flipped the switch and fried the memelord, he then flipped another switch which seemed to transfer all of the stored up energy from the devices many victims into him. “Now” he gestured towards Grima “Let's do this buddy.” As the final battle started Grima realised that his first few attempts to roast Billiam had seemed to shockingly have little to no effect. On the other hand Billiam continued to strike at Grima’s very soul with each word he said. “You're stronger than I expected” said Grima, “I suppose it’s time to do this for real.” He began to shine bright like a diamond. “Time for my final form” and Grima transformed, he was now wearing a hawaiian t-shirt, flip-flops, shades, and shorts with his hair slicked back. “Well then,” cried Billiam “I thinks its about time to wrap this up.” He seemed to be charging up his final roast. “I would agree” responded Grima who also began preparing his next strike. Suddenly, the two let out their greatest roasts of all time and the area between them began to flash. The sounds of explosions could be heard from miles away as the two fought. There was another flash and the entire room erupted exploding outwards, as the fortress began collapsing upon itself. When the dust had settled not a soul could be seen. An arm reached out of the dust, tightly gripping a maltese flag.

The Immortal By: Isaiah Moore

There was an overwhelming darkness that would petrify any living soul. Not a glint of light nor a perceivable sound. The only sense that could be latched onto was the putrid smell of rot. This was a place that would turn any man against himself and engulf him with fear. Time felt distorted in this place and incomprehensible, minutes felt like hours, and seconds felt like days. A truly horrible place not worthy of the worst of human kind. A man of unknown origin was trapped here, scared, alone, and no memories to distract himself with. All he could do was lay in the darkness and expect the worst outcome. Hope was an unimaginable concept that was found in no corner of the man’s mind. The man felt no love, no elation, and no pleasure, only pain. After what seemed like an eternity of being trapped in this hell in an instant, the darkness was gone. A bright light pierced the man and everything around him. The smell of rot started to fade, and was replaced with the smell of burnt material. The man’s ears were overcome with tinnitus and his head started to ache viciously. As the light started to fade the man could feel sand surrounding him and the heat of a violent sun beating on his body. He laid in the sand physically and mentally exhausted from all the trauma he had just experienced. He tried to fight the urge to close his eyes but the want was too strong and in the end his tiredness overcame him and he fell asleep. When he woke up he was covered in sand and a lone desert snake had nestled into his torn trousers to shelter itself from the heat. The man shook the snake off and stood up with an energetic bolt. He felt clear headed and aware, a feeling he had not remembered experiencing ever. He noticed that his body had undergone intense changes. His arms and legs were bigger and stronger, his vision focused and highly acute any signs of first-degree burns from the desert sun vanished and he had virtually no pain. On his wrist was a watch like device that seemed to be embeddexd into his skin. On it a stopwatch that kept counting up, a date that read 01/15/3156 and a printed name that said “John Grima”. The man wondered about this name decided that it would be a good fit for him since he had nothing else to call himself. Grima walked through the desert aimlessly with no destination in mind, he didn’t know where he was or even why he was walking. He reached into one of his deep pockets and pulled out a Malta flag which he held onto as a token to discovering what he was before he forgot everything. After a day of walking he came across an abandoned destroyed city, large buildings laid beneath the sand destroyed, and in the vast distance the remains of a mega structure could be seen desolate and devastated. A rusty old sign lay on the ground that read “Davis, population 950000”. He thought about what life was like for the residents of the city before it was destroyed, and what could have happened that caused such destruction. In an instant a familiar bright light and a high pitched ringing pierced Grima and he found himself standing in a sprawling city with movement, and sounds coming from every direction. He was surrounded by large structures piercing the sky filled with life and action. In the distance he saw the megastructure, it stretched miles and miles high and was being orbited by thousands of objects he assumed were vehicles of some kind. Grima felt a new feeling he hadn’t remembered, which could only be described as joy. He watched as families of all kinds laughed and played with each other, and beings of all kinds living and enjoying their lives. His joy was shaken when he heard a siren coming from all directions, the families stopped playing and started panicking. He recognized the similar emotions that he was so familiar with in the families, the fear of death, and the struggle for survival. Before he could ask anyone what was happening there was an explosion in the distance, the blasts radius looked four times as large as the megastructure and glowed red. A shockwave blasted through the city knocking over all the buildings in site, and blasting Grima hundreds of feet backward into a building. The building then collapsed trapping Grima under the rubble. After hours of work Grima finally emerged to a fiery hell hole of destruction. What once was a city representing the progress of humankind was now engulfed with flames so hot they burned white. This was a disaster that not even the safest of people could have survived. Grima on the other hand was untouched by the disaster, he walked through the bright flames as if they weren’t there devastated as to what had just happened. He looked down at his watch and the date read 02/12/2602. In this moment, he finally understood what he had become and the sheer power he possessed. He realized that not only was he immortal, but he could bend time and space as if they were another one of his senses. Grima focused all of his energy into going back to moments before the blast. After a bright light and a piercing ringing, he was back in the action. He could even see his prior self looking around in distraught as everyone ran frantically. In that instant he focused even more and everything around him froze. Everything became silent and still. Grima walked around for a long while just observing this silent frightening world, the citizen’s expressions of fear and terror frozen in time. He teleported himself to the blast and saw what looked like a suspended warhead floating above the ground, on it an indistinguishable language he did not recognize. He put his hand on it, looked up into the sky, and focused. An instant later, he and the warhead were above earth. He rested there floating in space looking at the beautiful green planet in awe. He realized in that instant that it was his job to protect humanity, with the amount of things threatening human existence earth needed a protector. He looked deeper into the stars and teleported light years away to safely dispose of the warhead. Then returned to earth, the moment he returned there was a man waiting for him wearing a hooded cape that covered his face, an identical watch was implanted in his wrist, and the stopwatch read 11004 years, 6 months, 3 days. The man said with to him with a voice that sounded modified “You now know what your purpose is, and it is your duty to pursue it with the fullest passion.” In that instant the man disappeared. Grima knew his purpose.