#*points gun with vine boom sound effect*
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mat2468xk · 2 years ago
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MrBeast:
Welcome to your final test, I'm MrBeast.
We can scrap the 'S' cuz I've never missed a beat!
You had to cut from honey under threat of a gun blast;
When I had a cut from Honey, that's another check that I'm gonna cash!
You're coming last, Number 1 is Jimmy; only dub you have is horribly written.
You're accomplished 'cuz you fought the opposition and became the best,
But the consequences that you've got to live with
Is you paved their deaths all to pay your debt, I applaud you Gi-Hun!
In the diss game, you won't get rich.
I'm like your momma: I'm dead sick!
Then check the gaming channel, millions of children watch it.
How'd you win all that Won, kid, but not custody of one kid?
Did ya think you'd get her back with that lighter you bought her?
You're playing tug-o-war with your ex, but the rope is your daughter (Ooh!)
So stupid, Sang-woo showed you the light; you didn't go to SNU, that's right.
If the task was last to get backstabbed by a pal, you wouldn't make it through the night!
When I feast I don't need a suit and tie, wrapping with gold like the food I try!
Utter a word then you will die, save those subs for PewDiePie! Seong Gi-hun:
So this is the next test they'll make us fight in for survival?
But instead of a kiddie game, we'll be playing this manchild? (Hmm?)
Your career's fragile like glass, I will smash it if you push me.
Made your fortune from subscribers, now give them their fucking cookies!
You've done all this good, you fed lives in need right 'till they get by each time,
Gave islands, sweet rides, let high trees thrive, set headlines being nice when you spread vibes.
Teens hype it and then buy MrBeast line, so you make ten times what you leave guys,
Only ever "moving" when you're in set sight of a keen child, like an anti-red light green light!
Don't talk about loyalty, you don't get any!
You're like "I Spent At Least Ten Thousand Dollars Renting People Out To Pretend To Be Friends With Me"!
I wondered why VIPs had to hide their face behind plastic,
Now that I see this bastard, I get what the point of the mask is! MrBeast:
I just replaced all of Gi-Hun's surviving friends with Legos!
Uhm, Jimmy… there aren't any Legos.
(Vine boom sound effect) (Hahahahahahaha!)
For a 'critique on greed', it seems ironic,
Your show sold out like it's stock from shopmrbeast.com, bitch! Seong Gi-hun:
(Yuh!) You spent 24 hours in a bunker, another 24 inside of a fake prison,
And over 50 hours in a coffin; could you do us all a big solid and stay in it?
Spending a minute with the Jeff Bezos for daycare kiddies is a challenge that I couldn't be paid to be in.
You can't make good lines, I won't stay within them; like Jake the Viking, I'm straight up leaving! MrBeast:
Let's hope that you didn't bet all of your money on winning this fight now,
Cuz a lot like your job, if that happened, you're likely to die in my fire and strike out.
Join Team Seas and clean that garbage past you deem so awful!
You lost everything to a pensioner who lost his fucking marbles! Front Man:
I make the calls in this torture-ridden place,
You only got balls in an Orbeez giveaway.
It's a real manhunt, you don't got the courage to beat me,
Go hide in your nerdy Dream streams.
We've got more beef than your burger meat, Beast.
Plotting more seeds in your girl than Team Trees!
Pictured a world where equality rules,
That's not just a pic you can fly to the moon.
Got no firepower against my roster,
Don't you "identify" as an attack helicopter?
You said hi to your brother with a brand new channel,
I said bye to my brother with a mag of ammo!
So go cry to your momma in an ad to pack dough!
You'd ditch your morals to put your hand on Lambos!
Can't handle the truth: if you run out of money, you run out of your personality too.
Out of 100% of your viewers, nobody watches your channel for you!
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robosoapbar · 3 years ago
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vmheadquarters · 7 years ago
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What Goes Around... (Part 26)
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This is PART 26 of a story that is being told in segments by twenty-seven different authors, campfire-style. Each author will take over the story with no prior planning and then pass it on after putting their own spin on it! Expect the unexpected! :)  You can check our vmhq campfire tale tag for all of the previous installments or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Part 26 is written by @ghostcat3000  
[Part 25]
Neptune is not a large town. A person could drive around and hit all the important corners in a little over an hour. They wouldn’t even need to speed. On one side, the ocean and the bended pines, the glassy, silvery wide half moon of a cove, surfers bobbing out to greet the waves, ducking their heads under the spume-curl. The other side—dry canyon brush, curved roads and boxy one-level ranch houses, stuck in some 1980’s decor time warp. To the south, all the poors and college kids living together in what passes for the hood in Neptune; chock full o’ check cashing places and liquor stores, always on the brink of conversion to cold coffee cafes and farm-to-table restaurants. Northside: formerly trailer parks and large undeveloped plots, now home to several boutique farms and wineries.
Most of them are closed now, all those grapes drying on the vine. Only one still in operation; the Van Vliet Winery. Running, not on grapes and weddings, but promise. The promise of power, the chance to get finally end up on top and win. Miles from Neptune’s center but seemingly a world away—no lights, no reception, only darkness and an occasional ribbon of warm wind—the epicenter of the revolution.
“Yo, Rubster. You have a great ass but HOLY SHIT, do you talk a lot.”
Ruby sighs and spins around, her long arms hanging loose at her sides. “Point is, we are out in the middle of fucking nowheresville. Our phones don’t work. We’re completely cut off from civilization. The pink zombie apocalypse could be happening, like, right now, and there’d be no way for us to know.”
“In the vineyard, no one can hear you thcream,” Sean lisps, then coughs, spitting down into the dry dirt beneath them. Somewhere between here and the tunnels, he appears to have lost another tooth. He brings up his hands to his face and rubs his nose with his palms; a frantic up and down scratch.
Dick flicks the back of Sean’s head with his free, non-gun-carrying hand. “No one asked for your input, douchecanoe. We're the ones with the firepower. Your job is to lead us to the girl and hope you get a plea deal.”
“What are we going to do when we find Katie? We can’t call for help and who knows when Logan will be back.” Ruby spins and stops, holding her cell phone at different angles. “Seriously what is the deal with the reception?” She casts a withering glance at Sean. “You realize this means you can’t call anybody either? You are not good at being bad guys.”
Sean shrugs. “The thell phone tower died. About three monthth ago. The community took the Van Vliets to court. Apparently, it wath never thupposed to be there tho it never got reactivated or whatever. We uthe the landlineth.” He tightens his lips together and looks away.
“Cell phone tower?” Ruby frowns.
Sean jerks his head forward, sighing with something like relief. “We’re headed right for it.”
Dick peers into the darkness. “That’s a tree, dude.”
“No. It’th not. It’th a thell phone tower dethigned to look like part of the foliage. It died. We don’t know why.” He rubs his nose again.
Ruby takes out a pair of binoculars from her Veronica bag. She peers through them, the wrong way around. “Is Katie near the cell tower?”
Sean doesn’t answer, keeps trudging along, rubbing his nose. Dick shoves him.
“Hey, numbnuts. Talk.”
“Yeth.”
Ruby lurches alongside Sean. She’s taller than he is, so the effect is predatory but also comical. “You had her here the whole time? Why?”
“Yeah, dude. Why run the risk of having her be found by the people you’re hiding her from? Where's the foresight?” Ruby and Sean stop walking near-simultaneously, turning slowly towards Dick.
“Hey,” Ruby says, stretching the vowels like a rubber band, approaching Dick. “You feeling okay?”
“Totes McGoats. But seriously, so much of this whole super soldier plan doesn’t make sense. You’re a sleazoid drug dealer-” “Video director,” Sean hisses.
“Sleazoid drug dealin’ video director. Who is more likely to be snorting the merchandise than selling it amirite?” Dick sniffs for effect.
“He’s got a point.”
“I’ve been clean for two months.” Sean pauses. “Okay, one.” He resumes the violent nose scratching.
Dick puts the gun down at his feet, digs around his front jean pocket, pulls out his weed and papers, and quickly rolls up with an exacting efficiency. He lights the joint and takes a deep drag, pausing to look at his fingers, smell them and shrug. “None of this adds up. You’re a joke, bro. You know who else is a joke? Your pharmacist. Mad Scientist Barbie creating super soldiers by day and clubbing with the rest of the ‘09ers at night? Her brother? Pass. Liam Fitzpatrick? As a recruiter? According to Logan, that guy is a psychopath who can barely run a mob, much less a globetrotting merc-creation operation.” He pauses to laugh. “That rhymed. Boss.”
He licks his teeth and takes another hit, “The whole using the near-abandoned winery as a base of operations is solid. I’ll give you that. This place is isolated as fuck and if anyone stumbles over here by accident, they’d be easy to contain. Throw ‘em in the tunnels. Wait. Are there..whatchamacallit...floor plans for the tunnels? There's gotta be a bigger section we missed.”
“Floor planth?” Sean’s eyes trained on the gun at Dick’s feet.
“Yeah, like a room where, if this wasn't a weird ass Bond-meets-Living-Dead movie type of winery, but like a romantic comedy with Ryan Reynolds as me and I’m at a wedding and I found the perfect underground room full of wine barrels to bang the bridesmaid played by the hot Swedish chick in Mr. Robot.” Dick pauses to do some pelvic thrusts and mimed ass slaps. He stops and points at Sean. “Blueprints. That's the word. How much you wanna bet we find a whole room of pink goo coffins up in that bitch? Whaaaat.”
Ruby motions to the joint burning between Dick’s pinkish fingers, “Can I have some of that? Keep talking.”
He passes the joint to Ruby. She takes a hit and nods. He returns her nod with a slower nod.
“This operation is half genius and half muy ‘est-too-pih-toe’. The parts don't match. Taking a little girl as a hostage. That does sound like a mob thing. Intimidation and whatnot. Is it long-term though?” Dick squints and grimaces. “Not really. But keeping her here, keeping her close? Knowing exactly where to hold her so that she’s not easily found? By the people providing you with the goods? I don’t know, bro. That’s next level.”
“It wath my idea,” Sean says smugly.
“Sounds fake but okay. The Irish mobster? Chhhyeah, again I'm gonna say no to that too. I can see House of Pain getting into guns to go with his drugs but soldiers? It's too… ambitious.”
“This isn’t working on me like it is on you,” Ruby says, still nodding but returning the joint back to Dick, whose narrowed eyes are nearly shut from the exertion of his thoughts. “Why Nice Guys?”
“Why Nice Guys? Dude, that's one of the parts I don’t get. They won’t be loyal, like all good soldiers need to be, all they want is revenge. But what would Fitzpatrick know about that? I think what really happened is Toothless and his pals decided to…what do you call it when you try to make stuff cooler?”
He snaps his fingers and Ruby jumps up.
“Ooh. Innovate?”
“Yeah. That. Like I said, not smart. Know your workforce.”
Sean sighs. “I read Flowerth for Algernon. It doethnt end well.”
“Whatevs, nerd. There’s got to be better options. Like cops. Neptune’s got plenty. Or actual soldiers maybe. Like Logan. You just gotta get ‘em all here at once. Dump the goop on them and BOOM, army, yo.”
“Dick.” Ruby says, her eyes going wide.
“Whoa. This is some good shit, right. I feel like, smart.”
“Can I be high too?”
“Shut it, Sean. Unless you can explain everything this-” Ruby bats her eyes at Dick. “...wise man is saying, you’re not allowed to speak.”
She takes the joint back from his outstretched hand and blows the smoke back in his face. “And what about this terrorism stuff happening in San Diego? Are they stealing cops?”
“Maybe it’s the mercs.”
“Maybe. Oh shit. Delayed reaction.” Dick turns to Sean in a slow heel-swivel. “He said community. The community sued the Van Vliets. What community? There’s no community for miles.”
Sean has been shuffling away from them, backwards, in the direction of the dead cell phone tower.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Ruby barks.
“My new tooth thtub is quite sharp.” Sean holds his hands up, they are free of tape. “And you're not going to shoot that gun and draw unnecessary attention to yourself. See you later, moronth.”
He runs for less than a minute. No more, no less, twenty seconds of scurrying and poof. Like a climactic comic book panel, he drops out of sight. Dick doesn't even have enough time to pick up the gun.
“What the fuck.”
Sean’s scream is high, hysterical and also, muted, dampened. Ruby and Dick hesitantly approach the sound.
“The ground ate him.”
Dick gulps. “Are we in a horror movie now?” Absentmindedly, he pinches the ends of his joint, puts it in his front pocket, and picks up the gun.
The closer they get to Sean’s screams the more they see that the part of the road they thought was road was not. It’s a hole, leaves surrounding the edge of the drop. At the bottom, sits Sean, his leg twisted underneath him in a backwards L-shape. His screams are thinning out, turning to whimpers. Next to him is a man, eyes wide and surprised, a sharpened pole going through his neck like a kebab.
“That sucks,” Dick intones.
“Yeah,” Ruby breathes out, a hand at her throat.
“Get me the fuck out of heeeeere!”
Dick leans down to look into the pit. It’s not as deep as he’d previously thought, maybe ten feet. There are roots sticking out of the edges, like little grasping fingers, useless to someone falling in; nothing to stop the descent or hold on to. At the bottom of the pit there is a single line of stakes. Sean managed to miss it when he landed. The other man, not as lucky.
“It’s like those things that cops lay out in the road to blow out tires.” Ruby kneels down alongside him.
“Oh yeah, but like huge.”
“It's kind of cool.”
“What the fuck! There’s a dead body in here. I know this guy. GET ME OUT.”
Ruby takes out a pair of eyeglasses from her bag and puts them on. She peers down into the pit. “I don’t see a ladder. Do you, Dick?”
“Nope.”
“COME ON.”
“Sorry, Stubby. We can’t get down there.”
Sean’s whimpers become sobs. Ruby digs into her bag and pulls out a small pack of kleenex, she throws it in. “I guess since you didn’t know about the Death Pit, you’re less in the know than you thought.”
“What she said.”
Ruby shoots Dick a baleful look. “Sean. We can’t get you out right now. But you need to keep your part of the bargain. Tell us where Katie is so we can go get her. Once we do that, we’ll come back with help. Okay?”
A small, broken little yes rises up. Ruby straightens up and dusts her hands. “Where are we going?”
“Thraight ahead. To the thell phone tower. Thereth a thmall cabin behind it, hidden in the pineth.”
“Thank you, Sean. I promise, we will come back.”
Ruby takes Dick’s arm and they walk around the pit. Dick leans in and whispers in her ear. “We’re not though, right?”
“Ugh, you smell like pee.”
Dick does his best Blue Steel. “Are you negging me right now? ‘Cause it’s working, babe.”
Without discussing it, they start walking by the side of the road. Shoulder to shoulder, tight and quiet. Before long, Sean’s whimpers can barely be heard; ahead of them, where the taller trees give way to a small clearing, there’s the faint sound of music. Dick points the gun in front of them, completely focused.
“I wish I had a gun too,” Ruby murmurs.
“I wish I had a crossbow. And a red turtle shell.”
Ruby shushes him, but holds his free hand tight enough to hurt. They arrive.
Up close, the disguised cell phone tower looks less like a pine tree and more like an enormous mascara brush. At the top of the tower, jutting out from the fake greenery are the metal arms, useless and rusted. A tiny white cement house sits at the base of the cell tower, a squat square behind a locked fence.
Dick tests the strength of the fence. “Should we bust in?”
“No, we need to find the house where they’re keeping Katie.”
The music they’d heard from the path comes from behind the trees. As they get closer, the melody becomes recognizable.Tell it to my heart, tell me I’m the only one, is it really love or just a game? a woman moans, with the urgency of a UTI at Sunday brunch.
“That is not cool.” Ruby whispers and straightens the set of her shoulders, as if preparing to charge, walking towards the trees and the darker darkness beyond them.
The cabin is painted in shades of muted browns and grays, and seeing it, head on, it looks tiny. It isn’t until they’re right up to it, that they realize that as narrow as it is in the front, it goes deep. It’s mostly dark, except for the windows which glow dimly behind red curtains. There's a pick-up truck parked there, the tire tracks in the mud behind it showing a large curving last minute turn.
The song ends. A few moments later, it starts again. Dick and Ruby nod at each other and approach the front, silent and fast. Dick gets there first and when he puts his hand on the handle of the screen door, he turns to Ruby and holds up his hand. Stop. She doesn’t. When he steps inside, she goes right after.
The walls are wood paneled and the floors are hardwood as well. Bob Ross-style paintings hang on the wall and an incongruously cheery beige-and-brown plaid couch facing the door, a red velvet pillow stitched with the words Shattered Dreams. Across from the couch, a TV set to a Spotify playlist with only one song, Tell It To My Heart blares. Free from the outside vista, the volume is even more unnerving.
Dick goes over to the television and picks up a remote, looks at the buttons, then points it at the screen. Ruby rushes over, “Don’t-”
He clicks it off. “What?”
A telephone rings out shrilly. Dick shoots into the floor and both of them jerk into high-pitched screams, the sound dying in their throats at the next ring. And the one after that.
“Should we answer it?” Ruby asks, throat dry.
“Fuck no.”
A fourth ring.
“Or maybe yes. Man. I’m too high for this shit.”
“Me too. Give me the gun.”
He hands it to her. Five rings, six, seven. They follow the sound of ringing to a console table in the hallway. It’s got a lime green rotary phone on it; cheerful and strange and utterly terrifying. The ringing stops. Dick picks it up anyway. Even a few steps away, Ruby hears the dial tone. And three soft knocks.
“Whoa, did you hear that?” Dick knocks three times on the receiver. “Hello?”
“No, Dick. It’s coming from down there.” Ruby rushes down the hallway and Dick follows behind. There’s three little knocks again, coming from the last door on the left.
“Whoever you are,” Ruby’s voice pitches a little higher. “Name yourself. We're armed. And dangerous!”
“Yeah, we know kung fu, sucker!” Dick chops at the air with his hands and kicks out.
“Stop it, you buffoon.”
A soft voice, as soft of those knocks says, “Ruby?”
“Katie?! Sweetie? Are you okay?”
“The door is locked. I can’t get out.”
Ruby bends her head and peers at the padlock.
“Hold on, honey. Auntie Ruby will be right back.” She turns to Dick, hands him the gun, saying “Stay here. Put the thing on that keeps it from shooting. Keep her calm,” before rushing down the hall, bag jingling.
Dick slips the gun in his waistband and leans in to speak through the door. “Hey there. What’s up?”
“Hi. Who are you?”
“I’m Dick. Uh, Ruby’s friend.”
“I’m Katie.”
“You okay in there?”
“I’m a little hungry.”
“Bummer.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe we can get a burger or something after this?”
“Okay.”
Ruby returns with a little straw and a hammer. She hands Dick the hammer.
“Step aside.”
She removes a can of air from her purse, shakes it furiously and sticks the straw in. Angling the straw into the lock, she sprays until she drops the can. Using the hem of her t-shirt, she picks it up and sprays some more until the lock goes from silvery to white. Ruby grabs the hammer from Dick and brings it up high and down hard, just once, on the frozen lock, which splits in two pieces and onto the floor.
“Look at you, Rubster McGruber!”
They high five.
“Veronica Mars isn’t the only one with skills,” she drawls, flipping her hair.
With a flourish, fingers spread like a spider, Ruby pushes the door open. Inside, in an old fashioned wheelchair that leans slightly to one side, sits a young girl with long, wavy blonde hair, big brown eyes and a tiny, pointed chin. Ruby bends down and hugs her fiercely.
“How long have you been in here?”
“I don't know. Usually they let me move around the house. But this morning, Andy wheeled me in and said I had to stay here all day. Then that song kept playing and it was horrible.”
“I know, that song gives me nightmares. There's always someone murdering it at Karaoke and not in a good way. Who’s Andy?”
“The man that brings me my food. There's a lady too, Julie. She helped me with bathroom stuff.”
“Gross.”
Ruby kicks Dick in the shin.
Down the hall the phone rings again. They stop and listen, barely breathing. It rings six times, and stops. Dick puckers his lips into a silent, extended no which transforms into a wide grin.
“Hey, I’m remembering that this place sucks and we need to get out of here, pronto.”
“Yeah, let’s. We should use that nightmare phone to call the cops.”
“You can't,” Katie says. “You need a code to dial out.”
“Of course there is. Honey, can this wheelchair get you to the front door?”
“No. They took away my real chair.”
“I see. I’m going to carry you out then. Dick, hold my purse. We’re gonna hotwire that car outside and save this little girl.”
“You got it, hot stuff. You sure you can handle it?”
“I'm stronger than I look. Let's go.”
They speed through the house, Dick leading the way, Ruby close behind with Katie in her arms, and go out the back, through a small kitchen that smells strongly of paint.
It’s cooler outside and when Dick opens the driver’s side door, a very pink Liam Fitzpatrick tumbles out right out onto the ground, eyes open and dried froth around his mouth, dead-as-a-doornail dead.
“Holy shit!”
“Holy shit!” Ruby repeats after Dick, then looks at Katie. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, dad says that all the time.”
“Cool. Cool. Dick, open the passenger side door. Quickly. Katie, sweetie, don’t look at the corpse. At least I think it’s a corpse.”
“It is.” Dick kicks Liam’s body. “Ouch.”
Ruby places the girl into the car, Katie uses her arms to shift to middle of the front seat.
“Dick, check his pockets for car keys. And grab his wallet too. There might be something important in there. Clues and whatnot.”
“Do I have to?” He throws Ruby’s purse next to Katie.
“What?” Ruby says, clicking Katie’s seatbelt in place.
“I said, you have guns, lady. What do you do to stay in shape?”
“Boxing and modern dance.”
Liam Fitzpatrick looks different than his picture in the paper. His hair graying at the temple and while generally trim, the skin on his face sags at the jawline like a bulldog. A pink-hued bulldog, bloated and shockingly bright. One hand clutches the air, a claw, the other is pressed tight in a fist. Near the knuckle, there’s a tiny bit of metal. Dick swallows the nerves and unpeels Fitzpatrick’s swollen fingers back like a gross banana. In the center of his palm are the car keys.
Inside the house, the phone starts ringing again. Staring at Fitzpatrick’s lifeless eyes, Dick sees his own reflection and with every ring, feels less and less like himself. Like he’s disappearing into the sound of the ringtone.
“Did you find them?” Ruby stands next to him, hands at her waist. She blows her hair out of her face and widen her eyes meaningfully.
Dick dangles the keys up to the light.
Inside the house, the phone stops ringing, after five rings this time.
“Is this a countdown?” Ruby swallows. “Don't forget his wallet.”
A phone chimes, closer at hand. A cell phone.
“Dick. Your phone is ringing. Answer your phone. Dick?!”
“What?”
He throws Liam’s wallet at her.
“Your phone!”
He pats his pockets and pulls out his iPhone. The screen reads Unknown Number. Dick hits answer call and locks eyes with Ruby who holds her clasped hands to her mouth.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Uh, is this Dick?”
“Uhyeeees.” Dick nods at Ruby, who nods back, and pulls her phone out of her back pocket.
“Hi, um, I’m Detective Leo D’Amato. We haven’t met.”
“I know you. You’re the dude Veronica was working for. You can’t intimidate me, dude. I know my rights and also that you’re EVIL.”
“What? No. Listen, I’m in the hospital. My partner, Wei Breitski, shot me and left me for dead. I have reason to believe that he’s either running or helping to run some kind of drug operation out of Neptune. Is Veronica okay? Do you know where she is?”
“Yeah, she left with your dirty partner to go find the antidote for the pink goo for Wallace?”
“What? I’ve been trying to call her. I need to speak to her. This is very important. She has to-”
“Wait. How do I know you’re not playing us?”
“Yeah!” Ruby yells.
“Who’s that?”
“Ruby.”
The phone cuts off abruptly. A moment later it rings again. A facetime call.
Dick accepts and Det. D’Amato’s face fills the screen. Half of his face is swollen and he’s got bruises around his eyes, like a panda mask. He’s wearing a hospital gown and is lit in the sad, sallowing way of hospitals.
“You look like shit, bro.”
“Thanks, Dick.”
“How did you have my number?”
“Veronica gave me a list of contact numbers, you were on it.”
“Aaaaw, Ron Ron.”
“Barf.”
“What did you say?”
“Barf. Veronica told me to say that in case you called her Ronnie, Ron Rons or Ronniekin.”
“Bitch knows me. What can I say?”
“Charming.”
“Was that Ron’s too?”
“No, that was me. Look, you don’t have much time. The so-called street uprisings I was told to investigate turned out to be bogus. Falsely reported incidents meant to distract us from the real problem. The-”
Leo’s face freezes.
“Dude, I can’t hear you? See you?”
“-You have to tell Veronica-” Leo cuts out and back in again. “The soldiers will get a modified formula, a refinement to make them dumber, more compliant, less likely to question things.”
“WHOA, I have a solid plan for that. I got this super weed and I’m going to smoke them all up and make them smart again.” The screen freezes on Detective D’Amato’s look of open-mouthed confusion. It unfreezes. “Okay, you do that. I’m going to call in my boys in San Diego and also the couple of guys at the Neptune PD who aren’t-” D’Amato freezes again. “Get as far from that winery as possible. Don’t let-” Freeze. “Pink.” Freeze. “Touch-” Freeze. “Got that?”
“Like almost none of it, dude.”
“Great.”
Ruby snatches the phone from Dick. “Hey, you. I’m Ruby. Give me proof that you’re one of the good guys. How do we know you’re in a real hospital, even? You could be lying.”
D’Amato does a reverse shot and gives them a shot of his hospital room.
“Not good enough. Show me your ass.” “Excuse me?” The phone returns back to his face in time to catch a raised eyebrow.
“Your ass. Show it. If you’re really in a hospital, you’ll be commando under there.”
“Like me!” Dick offers.
“Fine.”
Leo jostles out of frame and there, frozen on the screen, a pale ass cheek.
The Face Time call drops.
“Fuuuuc-I mean-udge,” Ruby looks over her shoulder at Katie. “The battery on my phone crapped out. Can you call anybody?”
Dick goes through his phone list. Logan, Veronica, everybody—nobody picks up.
“Okay. Veronica’s cop friend’s partner is evil. We knew that. She might be dead. I have to save the world.”
“No. Logan is with Veronica. He’ll protect her with his life. Oh no.”
“Oh no.”
“He’ll protect her with his life!” They shout simultaneously and run to the pick-up truck.
They drive back towards the barn by following the tire tracks out to the main road in silence. When the main buildings of the winery become visible, they kill the lights and go off road, wobbling slowly in the dark towards the barn.
“What are we going to do?” Katie asks.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. But Dick might drive you into town. I have to stay.”
“Fuck that! You need to go. I’ll stay.”
“Dick! Language.”
The door to the pick-up truck opens suddenly. Before any of them can scream, the wide-eyed blonde puts a fingers to their lips.
“Shhhh. I think I lost him but he’s insanely fast.”
“Daddy?”
Rooks takes off the wig and leans over Ruby to hug Katie tight. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Where were you? I was so worried.”
“I’m okay, Daddy. There’s bad stuff happening.”
Dick glances at Ruby over their heads. She rolls her eyes and shrugs, in a what-can-you-do? sort of way, then grabs the fabric of Rook’s shirt and shakes him to attention.
“Rooks.” Ruby whispers. “We’re going to give you the car keys. You have to get Katie out of here. Dick and I need to stay and kick ass. You got it? You and I will never be okay, you know why, but go, take care of your daughter. Don’t fuck this up. Also, you owe me a leather jacket.”
“Oh man, you don’t want it. That monster... grabbed it and uh, got intimate. I left him with it, used the moment to get away.” Rooks dries his eyes. “Wait. What? What’s going on?”
“You have to go, guy. NOW. And, uh, gimme that.” Dick grabs the wig from Rooks. “I might need it.”
“Katie, sweetie, you think you can tell your dad how to get back the way we came?”
“Yes.”
Ruby hugs her and Katie, softly says, “Thank you.”
“You got it, kid.”
They watch them drive off in the dark.
“You know what’s weird.” Dick says, stroking the blonde wig in his arms as if it was a Persian cat.
“What?”
“All these people, all these freaks, you, Logan, Rooks, Sean… They’re are all connected to Carrie in some way.”
“You think I’m a freak?” Ruby’s big eyes catch all the moonlight.
“Oh, I know you’re a freak.” Dick shimmies around her, grinding and whisper-singing UNTZ UNTZ UNTZ.
She doesn’t move at all, her arms folded tight across her chest.
“In high school, you used to say I smelled like wet bathing suit.”
Dick laughs. Ruby doesn’t. He stops.
“You said I would die alone in a dress made of banana peels.”
“What? Dude.”
Dick kicks at a patch on the ground.
“I was an asshole and didn’t know shit. Okay? I paid for it. Believe me. I’m sorry.”
They walk towards the barn. In the distance, there’s a howl. The Pizmonster can’t be too far behind.
“Okay. We have a gun and a hammer and we are super fucking smart.”
“Fuck yeah. So what do we do?”
Ruby swats at a buzzing insect near her ear. “We look for those landlines, plural, that Sean mentioned. I know they said that all the wires were cut but they're all, like total liars, so there has to be another one like back at the cabin. Maybe in another one of the buildings?”
“Right.” “And we keep an eye out for Logan. Protect him.”
Dick nods. “You’re a cool chick, Rubster. But I got to tell you, Logan will never quit V-Mars. She’s his… heart.”
Ruby breathes in. “I know. But I have my part to play. ‘It is a far, far better thing that I do’ and all that jaaaaaazz.”
“Yeah. Man, I’m hot. Are you hot?”
“No.”
Dick holds his hand up, the nerve endings on his fingertips are dancing with electricity.
“Hey, Dick. Look, isn’t that Veronica’s dad’s car?” They move towards the car in a low-to-the-ground undercover crouch and peer in the window—there’s nobody inside. There is no sign of anyone around, no footsteps or voices. Only wind.
“There’s a note.”
On the dashboard, in left-slanted all-caps letters—I HAVE YOUR FATHER, MS. MARS.  DON’T DO ANYTHING STUPID.
Want to find out what happens next? Check back next Saturday for the next installment written by…  @cheshirecatstrut  Tag, you’re it! Make sure to submit your segment to [email protected] by Wednesday, November 1st.
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wizardsnwookies · 7 years ago
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TOD112917 - In the Land of the Dead
Leosin was waiting for them exactly where he said he would be, in the shadows of the alley between two buildings in one of the quieter sections of Waterdeep. That alone was signal enough that something was up. Usually updates and missions would be given by either sending stone or in person at his office. However the message they received following the council meeting insisted on a strict level of privacy.
“What’s with the cloak and dagger?” Osborne was used to meeting in alleys, but in his experience the information exchanged in this kind of local was never good. Skydancer stepped up to the Harper and clasped his forearm in a firm greeting.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll understand why I’ve taken these...precautions. I’ve received word from another faction that’s interested in an alliance.” Leosin’s eyes cast downward as he spoke, talking into his chest.
“Excellent, who?” Skydancer hadn’t yet seemed to pick up the signals of the meeting. She looked back at the rest of the group, nodding with a half smile to an uneasy audience.
“There’s no easy way to prepare you for this, so I’ll just say it. It’s the Thayans.”
Finally it hit her. With one word the unease that was being exuded by Leosin and her companions hit her like a wave and nearly knocked her over.
“ ‘The Thayans’? As in, Red Wizard Thayans? As in, working with the cult Thayans?” Osborne nearly shouted in his surprise, settled slightly by Skydancer’s hand on his shoulder.
“No, not quite. What do you know of Thay?” Leosin turned to Skydancer.
“Before the spellplague Thay was ruled by a council of mages, or at least that was the outward appearance. The mage of necromancy had been leveraging the rest of them for years...”
“Zaast Hamm.” Leosin nodded, continuing for her. “He finally got tired of ruling from the shadows and overthrew the council, seizing power for himself in a ritual that would make him a god. That ritual would eventually fail, but it was no matter at this point. He had Thay under his boot."
“He then slaughtered all the people of Thay, reviving them into undeath, the council becoming powerful necromancers in their own right as either liches, vampires, or any other manner of undead nightmares.” Skydancer spat out the end of the story as if the very words were poison.
“Only not all were willing to submit to Zaast, a small group of red wizards managed to escape Thay to serve their own desires.” Leosin took a deep breath. “They are the ones working with the cult, Zaast’s people are who we are in contact with regarding an alliance.”
“They don’t care about the cult.” Osborne scoffed. “They just want the splinter group, retribution for their mighty ruler.”
“Probably, yeah but the Thayans make the Arcane Brotherhood look like hedgemages by comparison. That’s a significant amount of power to have in our corner.”
Silence fell upon the party. Despite what they felt about the Thay, they would indeed be a powerful ally. When no one spoke up to argue, Leosin continued.
“We’ve been offered to meet with their ambassador in Waterdeep, a Nyh Illmichh who will then take us to Nefwatch Keep on the Thayan frontier where we will negotiate with their Tharchyon.”
“Wow, those are a lot of words I don’t know.” Osborne slumped against the wall, kicking a pebble on the cobblestone beneath him.
“Eyseldra Yeth has been part of the ruling class in Thay for over 200 years, Tharchyon is basically her royal title. Which,” Leosin cast stern eyes on the halfling “you will address her as at all times. That’s important. The Thayan’s are strict on their honorifics, and I wouldn’t want to know what they’d do if they took offense.”
“Can we trust them?” Skydancer had let the shock pass and returned to business as usual. They’ve dealt with worse before, if these Thayans wanted to pick a fight with them, she’d welcome it. Still, it didn’t hurt to be careful.
“Believe it or not, I think so. We’ve had our people look over their people and there are no signs of deception, not even through magical prying.”
Skydancer looked to Waldorf for confirmation.
“Magic is a hard thing to say no to.”
“Alright. I’m guessing this is off the books?” Skydancer looked back to Leosin with careful eyes.
“Exactly, the council would only argue this death and by the time they’d reach a decision it would be too late.” The Harper reached in and pulled out six writs from his pack. “Here’s your warrents, I’ll tell Nyh we’re on to meet for tomorrow.”
Leosin paused and looked at each of them with a harsh unblinking stare. “Look...don’t think I’m forgetting who these people are. What you’re going to see...just be ready, and take care of yourselves. I mean it.”
---
The teleportation spell dissipated and the world shimmered into view, shades of gray and black. Silence and a barren dead land came into view, the Thayan lands seemed just as much a part of unlife as the people who lived there. No animals crawled upon the caked dirt. No birds flew in the cloud choked skies above.
Nyh Ilmichh turned to face a barely visible path beaten into the dirt. The bright red of her robes contrasted harshly against the landscape before them. She lifted a pale slender finger and pointed to a structure rising in the distance, just beyond the first hill.
“There, Nefwatch Keep. Do not leave the path.”
Everyone felt invisible eyes boring holes into them with a deathly gaze that seemed to follow them down the path. With each step Dain felt himself grow more and more distanced from his god, like the faint glow of a candle disappearing down a darkened hall. He clutched his holy symbol to him tightly and drew close to Waldorf.
“She doesn’t like it here...”
“It’s quite alright Dain, we’ve been promised safe passage.” Waldorf’s words sounded more confident than he felt. It was hard to deny the overpowering dread this land seemed to exude, and as they passed under the shadow of the keep the wizard felt his blood run cold.
The keep offered no resistance, no guards, no archers; the courtyard and halls were as barren and lifeless as the land outside the keep walls. Dust particles drifted in pale light streaming through what few windows there were, the only light offered to those who dared enter this tomb of stone.
A large black wood door banded with iron gave way to a striking change in surroundings. What appeared to be a small foyer to adjoining suites had been thoroughly cleaned and prepared for the party’s arrival. The stone had been scrubbed floor to ceiling, the blood red tapestries beaten until nary a speck of dirt lay in hiding, and most shocking of all, on a central table was a bowl of fresh color. Fruits, breads, and cheeses alongside the only dusty items in the room, bottles of well aged ales and wine.
“These will be your quarters for your stay. Tharchyon Yeth and her advisers will summon you when they are ready. Until that time please refresh yourself, the servants will be along soon with your evening meals.” With that, the bald woman offered a shallow bow and exited the room, taking all the cold outside with her.
Skydancer nodded, looking quite pleased. “Not bad. Let’s see if they have a bath.”
“I need a drink.” Osborne had nearly jumped free of his shoes when the door had closed with an echoing BOOM. He had the bottle of ale uncorked and halfway to a pour before he thought better of the idea, and slowly set the bottle back down on the table.
“Oh, come on Osborne. You think they’d go through all this trouble bringing us here just to kill us with some poisoned ale?”
“Have you forgotten? It wouldn’t be the first time someone drugged my ale, so you’ll forgive me of being a little gun shy.”
“Suit yourself.” Skydancer walked passed him and grabbed a bunch of perfect red grapes from the bowl and bit a couple of globes right off the vine with her teeth. “I’m not letting this hospitality go to waste.”
Twenty minutes passed, just long enough for everyone else’s nerves to settle themselves. Skydancer seemed to be the only one at relative ease in their surroundings. So when the a slow methodical knocking came from the large heavy door she was the only one who didn’t jump.
When the man with pale, rotting flesh and painfully slouched head shambled past the threshold, Skydancer’s hand reflexively felt for the hilt of her moonblade. He reeked of ancient death a toxic mixture of old books and sour milk. And yet, the overall effect was heavily undercut by a near pristine set of fine dress clothes covering his body. Finely woven trousers and jacket of midnight blue, a crisp white tunic, and accented by a blood red ascot around his neck like a noose.
“Good evening. Your dinner is served.” Despite a tongue resembling dried meat, the zombie spoke perfect common with only the barest trace of Thayan accent.
“...amazing.” Waldorf broke the awed silence, his cloudy eyes wide with wonder. He had studied Necrotic magic and knew enough about it that creating the undead was more of an art than a science, most magic was. But there was a big difference between resurrecting the dead, and raising the dead. The former was easy, say a prayers, offer some gold or gems, etc. The latter was a much more complicated process, and tended to get messy.
He watched as a collection of zombies and animated skeletons quietly shuffled into the room carrying covered platters, jugs of water and wine, baskets of steaming hunks of bread...and yet all of them lacked the life of the one that came before them. They seemed to be on some kind of automatic programming, a mindless waltz of purpose with no other thought or notion of life to them.
“Please, if there is anything else I may be of service with.” The zombie reached inside a pocket and retrieved a small silver bell, gently placing it on the central table. After the procession of death exited the room, he offered an awkward bow and followed.
“Astounding...simply astounding!” Waldorf turned to the rest of the group, more animated than he’d been in a while. “Did you see how it moved? How it spoke? I simply MUST know how they did it.”
Barton set down a silver dome to cover a roasted fowl surrounded by vegetables and potatoes, it smelled like a home he had never known, and yet despite this, or because of it, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Why on earth would you need to know that? Why would you want to?”
“Because, it’s knowledge, a great knowledge. To create such an undead is almost unheard of.”
“It’s Necromancy...I would think we could do without that kind of knowledge.” Barton reached into his pack and unwrapped some dried beef and bread from a handkerchief.
“You’re not eating?” Dain looked at the Warlock curiously, brushing the ale from his mustache.
“I do not trust Necromancers.”
“Not you too.” Skydancer rolled her eyes.
“THANK YOU, somebody gets it.” Osborne crossed his arms and leaned back, satisfied that his point was finally shared with someone in the group.
“Necromancy is just magic Barton. It is not inherently evil, it all depends on the one who wields it.” Waldorf sat down and lifted the dome Barton had replaced, letting the intoxicating smell tempt him.
“I have a hard time believing that.”
“That’s how I save people.” Dain offer simply, reaching over and ripping a leg off the roast.
“That’s right! Without Necrotic magic, we would not be able to spare the dying, or dead. I would not have my Wally without it.” Waldorf punctuated his point with a proud pat on Dain’s shoulder, remembering how the Dwarf had brought his grandson back from the edge of the void.
Barton said nothing, but thought long and hard on this point. It was something he had not considered. He had for so long believed in inherent evil, the black and white of the world and it’s concepts. It seems there were more gray areas than he once thought. Was there such a thing as inherent evil? Or was it all just a matter of circumstance? It seems that night he had much to meditate upon.
---
Tharchyon Eyseldra Yeth stood at the end of a long table in the meeting room. The room had no windows, and was lit with a single row of candles running down the center of the table. Shadows crept in from all corners, giving the room the resemblance of a cave whose walls remained elusive in the dark. Behind her a row of robed wizards stood with hoods cast over their heads, hiding their faces behind a veil of darkness.
The Tharchyon herself bore the standard shaven head of Thayan culture, her skin was perfect, without any blemishes or marks, and as white as the clouded eyes of a corpse. Her cheeks bulged at the jaw, the flesh hiding the powerful muscles developed to hold a struggling victim’s throat in place until death took them. The red shimmering eyes of a vampire burned like a smoldering campfire as the group assembled at the other end of the room, watching, studying.
“We find ourselves bound against common cause against common enemies.” No greetings or acknowledgements were offered, her voice exuded control and authority. “Thay’s thirst for revenge is strong, the price for information is are the betrayers. We know their weaknesses, Nyh Illmichh will return with you, with our aid you will discover the enemy, you will capture the rogue element, and WE will deal with them in our own manner.”
Silence. The row of robed individuals offered nothing, and Tharchyon Yeth seemed satisfied with her words. The only follow up was the flickering of candle light.
“That’s it? That was easy.” Osborne looked up at Skydancer, raising his eyebrows in surprise. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but this certainly was not it. Not even a bartering of terms. No negotiations of any kind. It all seemed, far too easy.
The Tharchyon smiled at this, just enough to reveal the barest hint of fangs behind her ruby lips. Osborne shivered and thought to himself, he wouldn’t be getting much sleep that night.
---
Osborne’s bed felt good after his watch, and knowing that there was someone up keeping an eye on things just in case eased his tension somewhat. The Thrchyon and company had their own questions to ask before they were dismissed, mostly mundane and innocuous enough; “what are the elves working with the cult?” “Why are the cult collecting slaves?” But there was one set of questions that seemed to stand out to everyone, something they hadn’t thought of before.
Why were they using Thayan magic if only to raise undead dragons as was presumed? This was not unknown magic, not inaccessible in the least either. So why would the rogue Thayans be a part of the equation?
Osborne shrugged and slipped under the covers, the question was above his head, above his paygrade. He was the rogue, he stole stuff and struck from the shadows. Let the wizard and warlock ponder the magical ins and outs. For now, he was happy knowing that when he awoke the next day it would be a matter of hours before he was back in more friendly environs.
He slipped into an uneasy slumber, waking and falling asleep on an off for he assumed was hours. When sleep finally took him, he felt himself plunged into an amber haze that slowly grew into focus around him. His nostrils flared. Fire. Somewhere flames were being stoked from hardwood, somewhere close, he could feel the heat invading his personal space. His skin began to prick and burn. It was closer than he thought. He tried to turn his head, and that’s when he felt the chains.
In a sudden burst sound flooded his ears. The echoing crackle of flames muffled by...something. Iron chains softly banged against each other and groaned against his weight. The amber haze gave way to vague images, he could see the outline of his body, stretched, limbs pulled in odd directions, and surrounding him, round, rough walls that came to an opening above him. A cauldron. He could smell the seasoned iron now. Seasoned with animal fat...or something else...and giving off a slight smokey scent as the flames heated the metal.
Something soft and wet brushed against his cheek, a movement of shadow by his feet. Then that awful slapping of soaking flesh against the sides of the cauldron. The thin on his cheek pulled, and he felt a suction against his skin, and the bit of small barbs piece the flesh. 
The tentacles coiled around him, tearing, sucking, biting him; it was an agony he never thought imaginable, the terror, the heat, but the chains were the worst. The chains dipped at a sharp angle from where they were secured giving him just enough freedom to struggle. An illusion of hope he realized too late. He would move away from the torture as best he could, managing to swing his body to escape one grasp, only to fall into the hands of another. Just enough freedom to feel like he could get away, and yet still be so far away from liberation.
He endured unspeakable things that night, and only when he began praying for death did the questioning begin. The hooded figures peered down at him from outside his iron prison, their faces cast in shadow even in the flickering fire light.
“Why did you come to Thay?”
Osborne was broken, to weak and tired to do anything but answer honestly and without his usual snark. “W-we came to form an alliance.”
“What do you know of Severin’s plots?”
“I have no idea who that is...”
The hooded figures turned to each other in some kind of silent conversing over this. “What do you know of Wrath Modar?”
“Again...no idea.” Osborne shook his head and let it fall limp, hanging backwards. He could feel the tentacles brush against his hair, but at this point he knew it was pointless to try and move away.
“Your first allies, why did you abandon them?”
Visions of Marvel and Aryte flashed before Osborne’s eyes. He felt the familiar flood of shame and loss that routinely plagued him. He and Skydancer were blameless of course, they were all in over their heads, overtaken, there was nothing to be done. Still, no one ever said guilt was rational.
“We were overtaken...there was nothing we could do.”
“And your current companions, what of them?”
“They are good people. Better than most in this world.”
“You came here to form an alliance with us, how do you feel about this?”
“I’m not happy about it, I can tell you that.” A momentary act of defiance eased his pain for a moment, just enough to allow him a sardonic smile before his situation came back to him full force. “But we don’t have much of a choice do we?”
“And your companions, do they feel the same?”
“Pretty much, yeah. You aren’t a popular bunch.”
The hooded figures fell silent and for a moment Osborne wondered if this was it, if this was where it would end for him. It wouldn’t be that bad. He sister was safe. He had done some things he could say he was proud of. Then there would be the end of this torture. That would be most welcome.
Instead Osborne woke in a cold sweat, the sheets tossed onto the floor at some time during the night. In the instant it took him to open his eyes, the entire evening of pain and horror faded away into nothing. A rough night was all it equated to in his memory, nothing more. Wiping the sweat from his brow he reminded himself one more time, just a few more hours and this would all be behind him.
The rest of the day went by quickly. They all gathered in the foyer and each shared a feeling of a restless night. No one mentioned anything more, and yet they all felt they remembered a faint image of tentacles writhing around them.
Nyh Illmichh delivered the agreement of alliance in the form of a contract written on parchment. All who examined it agreed, it was not calf, nor goat, nor sheep skin, and they would leave it at that. They were teleported back to Waterdeep with scrolls of protection against undead hidden on their persons somewhere along the way. A fingerbone wrapped in more parchment. They would not soon forget their time in Thay, but they were glad to put it behind them for the moment.
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