Chapter 4 of "Those Damned Mutants": Out of the frying pan and into the lava
Chapter 3!
Chapter2!
Chapter1!
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ARK-Clueless: Hand over the Spiked Food Sacks ™ you duped and prepare to be subjected to the wrath of……
ARK CLUELESS!
Thedeacon: You already said that.
ARK-Clueless: Said what?
Thedeacon: Not “what”, “that”. Although now you’ve technically also said “what” as well, but we’re not talking about “what”, we’re talking about “that”.
ARK-Clueless: What did I say?
Thedeacon: Yes, you’ve said it twice now.
ARK-Clueless: What “it”? I never said “it”---Oh, I suppose I have now, haven’t I?
Thedeacon: Yup.
ARK-Clueless: What was it---I mean, ‘I do not know the thing with which I have previously said’.
Thedeacon: That?
Tormented Revenant: What?
Thedeacon: Tormented Revenant, not “what”, “that”.
Tormented Revenant: I’m confused.
ARK-Clueless: So the which I have previously spoken words…that….um
Belamorte (slapping Thedeacon across the head with a tentacle): THE SPIKED FOOD SACKS BIT! For Mocham’s sake, did you people eat lead paint chips as children?
Thedeacon: Spiked Food Sacks? Hm, What are you talking about?
Tormented Revenant: I thought we were talking about “that”, not “what”
ARK-Clueless: What WERE we talking about?
Belamorte: Ahem….. and IThedeacon: Oh yeah, THOSE Spiked Food Sacks! Yup, you said it at the end of the last chapter…..Hand over the Spiked Food Sacks ™ you duped and prepare to be subjected to the wrath of……
ARK CLUELESS!
ARK-Clueless (thumbing through her script, frowning): Oh dear, you’re right. How embarrassing. Last line, chapter 3. There it is right there.
Thedeacon: That’s okay. But, you know, it could be like a recap of the last chapter. Like when G.I. Joe ends on a cliffhanger and they show scenes from the previous episode in the conclusion episode. You know, you gotta refresh their minds. Too much Gridstream kills brain cells. Well, *any* Gridstream kill braincells. Even talking about Gridstream is known to cause irreparable brain dama---oh there goes another one. See what you did?
ARK-Clueless: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Thedeacon: See? I was listening to Gridstream last night.
ARK-Clueless: But why would anyone want to read a line from the last chapter for a second time?
Belamorte: Why would anyone read it the FIRST time?
Thedeacon: Well, once you hit level 200, you’re kind of digging for things to keep you entertained and justify the monthly cost to Funcom.
ARK-Clueless (coughs): You better take some writing lessons then. Right now, I can’t even justify the time I’ve spent talking to you. I think I’m just a little bit stupider for having met you.
Belamorte: There’s no such word as “stupider”.
Thedeacon: Well, it wasn’t flagged on my spell checker when I wrote it. “Stupider”. See? No red squiggly underline.
Belamorte: You use Microsoft Word, right?
Thedeacon: Yes, I----oh. Microsoft. Well that figures.
ARK-Clueless: Getting back to the Spiked Food Sacks ™…..I really must thank Belamorte for reminding me why I came here. Otherwise I would have just sort of wandered the halls aimlessly for days until they warped me back to ARK HQ, starving and stark raving mad…..like last time. (ARK-Clueless shudders)
Thedeacon: So why DID you come here?
ARK-Clueless: To kill you.
Thedeacon: Oh that’s no proble---wait, did you say “kill” me?
ARK-Clueless: Yep.
Thedeacon (scowls at Belamorte): Thank you for reminding the nice lady, Belamorte.
Belamorte: No problem at a----holy Mocham, did she say “kill” us?
Thedeacon: You’re like five seconds too late, Belamorte. I just asked that question.
Belamorte: No, I actually asked before you, but I hit a lag spike.
Thedeacon: But wait, ARK-Clueless. You’re an ARK. You’re not supposed to kill people, but rather stand for truth, justice and the Rubi Kan way!
ARK-Clueless (giggles): All that crap takes work and we’re not getting paid for this. It’s easier to tell you to zone or relog and if that won’t shut you up, we throw you in lava a couple of times and deny the whole thing later. No fuss, no muss and it’s shuts people up in a hurry so we can get back to cyb0ring and ignoring all the real problems.
Hardened Criminal (taps Thedeacon on his left buttcheek with his finger….er, at least we hope it was a finger): Excuthe me thweeties. Are we going to get back to fighting anytime soon? I’m all hardened and ready to go.
Veteran Ruffian (lowering his baseball bat): Yeah, this is all fine and good, but are we going to get back to fighting soon? If not, there’s a new episode of Dharma and Greg on Gridstream. That Dharma may be 28,000 years old, but she’ll always get a rise from my 2h blunt weapon.
Hardened Criminal whispers: More like 1h blunt, if that….
Veteran Ruffian glares at Hardened Criminal and pounds his baseball bat into his palm
Hardened Criminal (raising his staff): /fblock oh you Brutal thug! Let’s mongo.
ARK-Clueless: Thedeacon, we have received word that you have two Spiked Food Sacks ™ in your inventory. The daft do-gooders are not happy at this theft.
Thedeacon: And here I thought the food dispenser was theft proof.
ARK-Clueless: Nothing is theft proof. Look at the amount of time and money we’ve stolen from you in your two years of life.
Belamorte: Woah! Thedeacon is two years old?
Tormented Revenant: That explains a lot actually.
Belamorte: Especially the bed wetting. I would have guessed he was around thirty. Sheesh, what an ugly baby.
Thedeacon: Hard living and lots of cigarettes, Belamorte.
ARK-Clueless: Well that hard living is about to end….er….hard…
Hardened Criminal (playing with his big stick….hey, not THAT one you perverts!): Did thumone thay hard? /fblock
Thedeacon, Belamorte, Tormented Revenant, Veteran Ruffian and ARK-Clueless shudder
ARK-Clueless: Hand over the Spiked Food Sacks ™
Thedeacon: Er, I can’t. Metaphysical Demon and Tormented Revenant ate it.
Tormented Revenant (darts his eyes back and forth nervously): Do not look at me. I have no stomach, remember?
Tormented Revenant vanishes in a cloud of nanobots and the sound of boiling lava can be heard faintly
Belamorte: Oh great lady, you whack the one good thing this gimp had going for him. If I had an attack weapon, I’d mMfPH—
Thedeacon covers Belamorte’s mouth hole and smiles nervously at ARK-Clueless
Thedeacon: You’ll—ah—have to excuse Belamorte, heh. He’s….er….let’s just say he just needs more fiber in his diet. That Metamucil isn’t---
ARK-Clueless: That’s enough…I can totally relate. I thought he looked a bit more bloated than usual.
Belamorte mumbles something that sounds vaguely like “DUDE” followed by some colorful expletives that can’t be repeated here.
ARK-Clueless looks at the pants around Thedeacon’s ankles and for the first time notices a steaming loaf lying on the ground: Now you on the other hand need something to stop you up, mister. Relieving your bowels in a mission zone is in violation of the EULA.
Thedeacon: EULA? I think you just made that up…
ARK-Clueless: Okay, I did. But you have to admit that’s pretty sick. I think I’m going to have give you the ol’ lava fastball special for that one…
Thedeacon (releasing Belamorte’s mouthhole and pointing at the pile of….waste….on the floor): No wait! That’s not what you think it is!
ARK-Clueless: It isn’t?
Thedeacon: No, it’s---my…um…new pet. Instead of coming from an urn, it comes from my….bowels.
Belamorte: Deacon, please do a /pet report and tell me I’m about to die.
ARK-Clueless: Is that a mezz pet? It seems to fit the description of the mezz pet nicely.
Thedeacon: Actually it’s an attack pet. We’re only speaking metaphorically when we say the mezz pet is crap.
ARK-Clueless (taps her foot impatiently): Prove it! Make it talk.
Thedeacon gingerly picks the….pile….from the floor and shakes it around in his hands while attempting to throw his voice
Thedeacon (holding his new ‘pet’ in his hands and trying to keep his lips from moving): Master, it’s totally good to see you! Er, let’s fight some bad guys…and stuff
Thedeacon: /laugh-b /laugh-s Oh Transcendent Enema, are you sassing off to me again? Haha—er, heh. These pets, I tell you…Heh, right Belamorte?
Belamorte: ….
Thedeacon (frowning): Right…..BELAMORTE?
Belamorte (covering his…orifice with two tentacles): I hope Bronto Burgers ™ taste as good coming back up as they did going down.
Thedeacon (elbowing Belamorte): RIGHT. BELAMORTE?
Belamorte: Yeah whatever, Deacon. Sassy stinking excrement pet. Ha ha, it is to laugh. May I puke now?
ARK-Clueless: I’m not buying it. I saw your lips move. If that’s a real pet, then Belamorte should be able to heal it, right?
Thedeacon (grinning smugly): Why, he most certainly can.
Belamorte (waving his tentacles in protest): Yeah sure, whateve--Oh Christ no. Deacon!!
Thedeacon: /pet heal
Belamorte: I am unable to do that master.
Thedeacon: /pet heal
Belamorte: No really, this time I mean it. I am unable to do that master.
Thedeacon: /pet heal
Belamorte: For the sake of all that is holy, I cannot, repeat CANNOT do that master!
Belamorte: FOR THE LOVE OF MOCHAM PLEASE, I REALLY AM UNABLE TO DO THAT!!! DEAR GOD, DEACON! NO!! DON’T MAKE ME!
Thedeacon: /angry /PET….HEEEEAAAAL!
Belamorte (curls his tentacles with revulsion): Commencing the healing process now master….I think I’m going to be sick…
Belamorte’s healing juices spill over the ‘pet’ in Thedeacon’s hand and a broad smile forms across his face
Thedeacon: Er, I sure hope that was healing juices and not breakfast, Belamorte.
Belamorte: At this point, I can’t entirely be sure myself. It was a bit more chunky than usual.
Thedeacon (giving ARK-Clueless a smug look): See? I told you it was…..er…
ARK-Clueless turns a pale shade of green
ARK-Clueless: Your brown ‘pet’ is….melting…That….isn’t really a pet, is it? That’s….that’s….
Thedeacon (looking nervous): Um…One last command…./PET ATTACK!
Thedeacon throws his ‘pet’ in the general direction of ARK-Clueless, grabs Belamorte by the tentacle and hightails it down a mission corridor
Belamorte: OH GOD DEACON!!!! DON’T GRAB ME WITH *THAT* HAND! At least wash it first!
Thedeacon (quickly shuffling down the corridor with his pants down and Belamorte in tow): Come on Belamorte! Let’s deliver these Spiked Food Sacks ™ and get the hell out of here!
Belamorte: How are we going to complete the mission? She killed Tormented Revenant and you killed Metaphysical Demon!
Thedeacon: Tormented Revenant was dead already, if you wanna get technical. Besides, I have another urn. We can make a new Tormented Revenant!
Thedeacon pulls a small brown canister from his subspace inventory and places it in his mouth. A small crunching sound, the urn or his teeth, can be heard, followed by a large swallowing noise
Belamorte: Ack! First you play with poo, now you’re eating urns? Jesus H. Mocham, think of the bacterial nanobots covering that filthy thing! Ugh and was that rust covering the surface? Deacon, you’re truly trying to test my intestinal fortitude today, aren’t you?
Thedeacon: There was a flag on the urn that said [EAT].
Belamorte examines a small red flag falling from Thedeacon’s mouth. The words “eat me” are printed in starch white lettering
Belamorte: An [EAT] flag. How…..retarded. Whoever put that there needs to be taken out back and asswhipped with an NCU belt.
Thedeacon: It wasn’t that bad though. The rust adds a certain….****iness. It could have used some pepper however.
Seasoned Techwrecker: Someone mention seasoning?
Seasoned Techwrecker floats in from the next room, blocking Thedeacon’s access to the next corridor. Veteran Ruffian warps through the wall, blocking the other corridor, while ARK-Clueless can be heard clacking her heels down the third corridor. A thought passes through Thedeacon’s head that there’s simply too many damned corridors in the new missions.
Belamorte: ETA on Tormented Revenant?
Thedeacon: Sometime between an hour from now and next week. The urn has to....digest before the pet spawns. Until then, RUN!
Thedeacon clumsily shuffles his feet in the opposite direction, but forgets that his pants are still around his ankles and promptly falls flat on his butt. He checks the fourth, fifth, sixth and eighteenth corridors for a way out. Ready to give up hope, he checks the eighty-sixth corridor and sees the one thing that could be worse than ARK-Clueless and her cronies combined.
Thedeacon: No….it can’t be….you?!?!
Destructiva (smooth gray thighs clad in black leather, bare midsection and a spiked bar, with her hand outstretched towards him): Come with me if you want to live…..Heh, I’ve been wanted to say that ever since watching Terminator 2.
STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER!!! OR GET A LIFE AND DO SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE AND MISS NEXT CHAPTER!!!
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