AIM: Pancaek Beast | E-mail: shdwdde@gmail.com | Denny's House of Pancaeks
Samus vs. Ada Wong, Rikku vs. Kairi, Tifa vs. The Boss, Jill vs. Peach, Zelda vs. Terra (Points: 36/40 Matches: 32/36)
A few disjointed twitches. The light oppresses you, breaks your dreams, vaults you out of what you intrinsically know is the halfway point. But you are not passive in the incident. You do as any being with common sense would do: Attempt to garner Alucard's attention.
The second time around, your communication is far smoother and requires less bloodshed. You simply extend the forefinger and thumb of your right hand, twist your arm enigmatically, and grasp the two ends of the tie and use them to constrict the trachea, making sure to ensnare the entirety of your Adam's apple in the process. You let the ends dangle asymmetrically. Then comes the tricky step; you perform a swirling double loop thread-through backflip knot, colloquially known as the Heimlich maneuver: Conjoin the thumb and forefingers about the neck of the snake and have it fling itself around the shorter segment. Adjust the right digit, ring finger, and mandible, threading and restating the hypothesis. Dilute the piece in the left hand and pull it gently through the habeus corpus. Instigate the Bolshevik intelligensia and alert them of imminent Armaggeddon.
"So you want to know what to do?" Alucard's inflection retains every shrapnel of its epic qualities. You not, face hot from strangulation. Be there any way to see yourself, you are sure that you would be purple-faced.
"Here's how it works," he declares. "Having you run around everywhere in a matter of hours is getting tiring, so I'll just have this generic white flash take you everywhere you need to go to fight your opponents."
Remembering the benefits of sign language, you slam a fist under your armpit and arch your spine at a feminine angle. "Deus Ex Machina," confirms Alucard cryptically, "All part of the Plan."
The white light intensifies and vanishes, leaving your ill-adjusted eyes desperate to discern heaven from earth in a new world. A trumpet blares out some stereotypical fanfare music is totally unrepresentative of the instrument's full musical range. Its rude, brassy quality forcibly restores your vision whilst utterly owning your audition.
Deja vu.
You are upon the side of a mountain; the atmosphere is so thin that your mere inhaling causes the trees to quiver. The earth beneath you is a mess, mutilated by the erosion of your footsteps. A diminuitive stream burbles uphill... and an Asian chick in a red dress runs unreservedly at you from twin sidearms. Unable to hear, a few dozen bullets pelter your chest before you acknowledge that the sparks generated by the gun's nozzle actually represent pulls of the trigger.
The gap between the two of you vanishes extraordinarily quickly. You abruptly acquaint her face with the bottom of the brook and give her entire curvaceous body some intense shot putting action, up and over the mountain. You are mother****ing Donkey Kong, but even you realize that that was a terrible attempt. As Ada Wong soars, skirt flapping, over the mountain's peak, you sprint upward to meet her. Ignoring the fact that it took you several hours last time, you get there in a few seconds to hunt down your prey.
"Not so fast."
A veritable coalition of females has assembled to greet you. Nursing around eighteen different broken bones is Ada Wong, who is somehow still fit enough to stare at you down the rear of a business-like shotgun. Surrounding her are another femme fatale Girl with Big Guns, a dominatrix with white hair and shiny white leather, a creepy creature around ten years old with an unnerving smile, and, curiously, a sickly looking white girl with green hair.
You extend your fist toward Ada; she is the only one who has incurred the wrath of mother****ing Donkey Kong, at the moment. A few rounds chip off some latent skin from the tips of your fingers, but they do nothing to stop the inevitable descent of the fist of fate.
And then something crushing hits you, something with genuine stopping power and sincere desire to kick your ass. The glittering montage of silver spandex smashes your chest, arms, thighs, and neck with rigid form and intimate knowledge of every martial art imaginable. Somehow, she maneuvers behind you and pulls your neck inward with her biceps, immobilizing you for a moment.
A moment is all it takes for something extremely hot to blacken your skin and arouse everything you hate about magical creatures at once. You are sure that your mushrooms are incinerated now. The shotgun rounds splattering your body are not of particular help, either; the fire has elevated the sensitivity of every superficial nerve imaginable, and you actually twitch a little as they impact your impenetrable hide.
Finally, you get tired of "putting up a show." Pain wasn't supposed to be part of the equation. You slam your chin down onto the front of your chest, and the martial artist grunts in pain as her wrist cracks. She does not shriek ferally. You calmly place one hand over her entire chest and the other beneath her battle-hardened buttocks and snap her hold on your neck like a Graham cracker. You throw her hard, into the dirt, and kick her at the other four. The eerie grin girl and the anemic chick with the green toupee manage to avoid the projectile. The ones with the shotguns are somewhat less lucky and are borne gracefully and parabolically away.
The eerie girl then randomly collapses from blood loss. Apparently, the strain of not having a heart catches up to her quickly. On your other side, the anorexic greenhead has metamorphosized into an anorexic flaming energy ball type thing with super flying powers and fire magic. You gather a bit of saliva and spit at it. The glob easily extinguishes the flaming thing and reduces it to a puddle of drool and green hair, sizzling slightly on the mountainous ground.
A flash of white light occurs again, and you look hazily around.
(A) Keep both feet planted firmly on the ground. You are mother****ing Donkey Kong, and no one's takin' you anywhere.
(B) Head for the beach.
(C) Take a nap.
(D) Soar in the sky like an eagle. Is there anything you can't do?
SD
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
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