"Get out!" she shrieked, laughing maniacally. "Oh my GAWD! Get out!"
His cool confidence faltered, tiny beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. "B-but..." Normally, he could read her like a book. But this expression, this insane laughter; frankly it scared him. "Baby, c'mon chill. I was just saying-"
The phone rang, the sound shrill and obnoxious. I was indecent, my dripping hair uncombed, and my eyes scattered with droplets of shower-water. It wasn't as if answering the telephone would disclose my current state of undress, but I consistently fought with the paranoia that whomever was one the other side of the reciever could tell I was nearly naked. The shrill siren went off again.
The room was cold and metallic, filled with plasma screens and technogadgets. The Bitch sat at the head of a large, stainless steel table, clicking her long talon-like fingernails slowly. Tap, tap, tap; blood-red nails grating on the nerves of those who had assembled. To her immediate left sat Super-Potato, he was lost in thought - deliciously wicked thoughts, no doubt. She smiled briefly, wondering exactly what was going on in his mind. Next to Super-Potato was the infamous Rammer; an expert in all villainous pursuits. The Bitch's right hand position was taken, as always, by Mack, whose gaze was hidden behind trendy Matrix-style shades. Beyond Mack was The Bitch's mother, Judy "Kick-Butt" Childs who had long ago convinced her daughter to join the family business. Not only had The Bitch joined it, she had taken it over, expanded it, and poised it on the brink of World Domination. The Childs Family was a legend in villainy, exactly as The Bitch had envisioned.
The sound was eriee, devoid of any human association. The Bitch hissed, "What the hell is taking her so long....and furthermore what is that confounded scratching?"
All we need to do is... She thought frantically, talon-like nails digging into her palms with fury over T&A's stupidity. "All we need to do is some quick reconaissance. This Timberlake bullshit-"
"I'll take over from here!" Super-P pushed into the small grouping at the head of the metal table. "I have been rumming some simulations, and I've found out that we will be able to intercept Kelly Larksong at the next Kentucky Fried Chicken autograph signing she has plHannahd in Hell, Alabama."
With one watchful pair of eyes following Kelly Larksong's every movement, a second pair observing her bodyguard doing an amusing 'pee-pee' dance a few feet behind her, and a third glued to a plasma screen in the dash of a car, awaiting messages from all involved, the young pop-star was completely screwed. Too bad she didn't yet know it. Suddenly, as she pushed yet another glossy photo showing her shiny hair, bright teeth and a winning smile (which she secretly adored defacing with her harsh, scratchy signature) to a drooling young man, an explosion ruptured the western wall of the KFC store.
"Geezus, Bitch. It's been too long hasn't it?" Kelly's face was smeared with grease and soot, her wild eyes on fire. "Pretty bold move on your part, even if it's all in vain!"
The gentle swaying of the vehicle would have lulled a lesser woman off to sleep. Despite her lover laying unconscious in her arms - injured, but in satisfactory condition despite the gaping bullet wound beneath the bandage - The Bitch considered the day a success. Mack would recover, she was certain; as would Super P and The Rammer, both struck by shrapnel from D's explosion - though their scratches and bruises were inconsequential. The loss of both Skoosh and Kick-Butt was devastating for her organization, but The Bitch knew her mother's defection was temporary. Once Kelly was dead, Judy would realize the error of her ways and return to the fold. Yes, The Bitch thought, trailing her fingers through Mack's curly brown hair, She'll be back.
His face was twisted in what some might describe as pain, but Tim did not feel anything at all. With the gleaming edge of the knife blade poised inches above The Bitch's neck, her terrified breaths hitting his face with the smell of garlic and roses, he paused. Now where was that cord again?
Mack sat forlornly in the cold metal corridor outside Dr. Childs' office, shredding a paper napkin. He understood what had transpired, really, he did. But that didn't preclud his feelings. Yeah yeah yeah, he sighed inwardly, I know its impossible. Bio-android or mechaorg...whatever the hell they're calling her now... my Josie is no longer my own. But it wasn't a surprise. For two years her mother, Kick Butt, and best friend, Super P., had been working with her (and the syndicate's money). Now, they had declared the project ready for Alpha Phase
SYNDICATE Section 5
I've just witnessed and recorded the departure of Bitchtron 15-Omega. As far as I can see, she is completely operational. I recommend that you move your research team to the LondonBrooks facility outside downtown Los Saraphin to keep a better eye on her progress. Our resident team: The Rammer, Tactics and Assult Girl, Rube, Edawg and Dionne, with the assistance of Doctor Judy Butt-Kick and Super-P are enroute to the new HQ. I would also recommend a full digonostic of C-system 5 and the by-pass coils. Our simulations have discovered a couple annomolies. Mackdaddy is currently investigating said issues. You will undoubtably understand my need to bring attention to these blips in The Bitch's mainframe when you check them out. As I said before, she is operating at full capacity, and no problem have surfaced. I will be departing for HQ in the morning, and will keep your section updated on the progress of our team. Mission breifings have already been delivered, and we should have contact with our mole inside the Good-Aguilera faction report in before we strike.
Hannah Ripstorm Bandock
Sr. Dir Biotech Facility Section 1
Continue reading "Memorandom"
"Death to Good Aguilera," she repeated slowly. "Death."
Continue reading "Cease and Desist"
"The blip on the computer screen should of stopped by now." I checked my communicator, to make sure it was deactivated.
"You know Super-P, what we are doing here is completely against Syndicate Regulations?"
Evie and Dionne, perfectly coiffed and impeccably attired (natch), made their way through the passages, unaware of the drama unfolding around them. They had encountered no resistance as they stealthily planted various incinerating devices and secured each hallway. One had commented that it was - a little odd, that not a single Timberlake officer had been patrolling. The other shrugged, dismissing it as sheer luck and continued scanning the area before them with another of Mackdaddy's clever devices.
"Shannon Crowbar?" Edawg stared down at the semi-concious figure, that moments before threatened their lives.
The Bitch sat at a vast table, tapping her talon-like fingernails slowly against the tiles. Click...click...click... One blood-red nail after the other, she smiled a devious smile at T&A Girl, and nodded.
"Computer End Simulation Alpha Phase."
SIMULATION ALPHA PHASE TERMINATED
Timothy Wize Potato turned to the assorted group behind him. The Syndicate Commitie consisting of Judy Childs, Hannah Ripstorm Bandock, Laurel T&A Girl, Jaymes Rammer, Evieloo Dawg, Dionne Danger(mouse), Sheri Wine, Carrie Moon, Rube Shudder, Kelly Larksong, Christopher Lee, and Shannon Crowbar looked at him, questions reflecting in their eyes. Taking a delicate white hankerchief from his pocket he dabbed a few stray beads of sweat off his forehead. "As I clearly stated in the piliminaries, The Bitchfonda program, or Bitchzilla as Hannah likes to call it, is littered with problems." He stared at the young woman to his left, who calmly took a drag off a cigarette. "Would you care to fill the commitie in on those problems, Hannah?"
"If our plan works, The Bitchfonda will hearld in a new era of anti-pop. She will become the messiah of death-metal, classical, trance and indie-angry girl with guitar music. Think about it, will you? A world before us stands on the brink of freedom! True blissful freedom! A planet earth without the GAF, without hot pants, and glowing makeup....without catchy pepsi-tunes and shameless corporate sponsorship. It will be an age of dirty-stringy hair....black clothes....drugs and casual sex....a world of meaningful lyrics and gratoitous drinking."
"Paula Snatchdual?"
In fact, Tim noticed, Paula was right on time. As a long time Syndicate collaberator, Paula was the most important part of their mission. Being terminated as one of the illustrous American Idol judges and replaced by one Jessica Pimpsome, had allowed the Syndicate to move in and influence Paula to the "dark" side of music. It didn't take an incredible amount of convincing to sway Snatchdual's mind. Paula was tired of the lack luster routines that the "current" wave of performers were churning out. It was her ultimate vision to see the new wave of icons (under the Syndicate's control) move to her beat. In exchange, she promised a perfect run-down of every do and don't required on American Idol. As an added bonus, she intended to slay Jessica Pimpsome herself.....
"So, do you have the information we agreed upon?" Tim asked.
Rube waited until the limosine-style hummer disappeared from view, then raced over to the stirring Kelly Larksong.
The darkness did not surprise her. Nor did the influx of fear and tension so thick you could taste it. With a slightly annoyed sigh, The Bitch pulled a file from her purse and began idly working on her already perfect nails. Her mechanically-enhanced vision allowed her to see the panic in the other contestant's faces through an eerie greenish veil. Still, as a streak of light shot through the blackness, missing its target (her), but still felling a large man next to her, The Bitch was not worried. She had protection up the ying-yang floating around the complex. Rube and Kelly, for a start. They wouldn't let the GAF get too close... Or do I have to do everything myself?
Stacey Flounce ran for the nearest exit the minute she saw the laser beams. In her rush she tripped and dropped her camera, causing the flash to trigger. In the darkness she saw the bright light of the flash illuminate Laurel racing away. She wondered if she had been found out? Had the plan been compromised? Fummbling around on the floor for her camera, Stacey failed to notice the tall shadowy figure that appeared behind her, until it was too late.
Continue reading "Terminated"
A throng of people in funky outfits raced past the unobtrusive black Honda parked near the Complex exit. Sherrie glanced over at Carrie, who shrugged and threw another card unto the pile. The younger of the pair, with her curly chestnut hair and bright blue eyes, sighed, pulling a useless card from the deck and tossing it into discard as well. They'd been sitting there for an hour now, in complete darkness, save the light of the various dials and displays in the dash. When Sherrie had commented on it, Carrie told her that if anything was wrong they would have heard of it by now.
Laurel came to, dizzy and unsettled. She looked around taking in all the features in the room (which were few). A door to her right, a long purple velvet couch on the left wall...a couple of lamps, not much else. Where was she? She grabbed at her head as pain threated to ground her once more. She reached out and place her hand on the wall, picking herself up off the floor. It was all hazy, scattered images flashing in her mind. There was darkness, running, someone was captured....but who? She drew a blank. Using the wall for assistance, Laurel moved to the door and tried the handle. Well at least I'm not stuck in here, she thought, finding the door unlocked. Staggering a little she went outside into a long hallway. She faintly heard gunshots, and what sounded like an explosion. Instantly her training kicked in, and the haze lifted. ALthough she still couldn't piece together what had happened to her, she knew who she was, and who she was protecting. "The Bitch!"
Pain...so much pain... Josie reached up gingerly, one tapered finger touching the wound in her shoulder. Blood dripped in slow motion from her nails. Shit...Where is the 'end simulation' button when I fucking need it?! Time began to speed up, returning to normal and The Bitch allowed her mind to turn off and the programmed reactions to take over once again. As if she had not been shot, The Bitch flung herself across the room, somersaulting. Before Laurel could adjust her aim to the blurred figure racing toward her, she was on her back, stars dancing before her eyes. In an instant, Rube too was down; he the victim of one size eight stilletto boot to the temple. Sadly, it appeared that though T&A Girl would surface and recover, Rube's new album would be released post-humously.
"I'm not sure if they honestly know what is at stake here." Hannah stood in front of a large, polished wood desk, her eyes scanning a file in her hand. The room was shadowy, unevenly lit by one floor lamp near the door, that had been shut behind her, and another lamp perched on a trophy case to her left. The sound of a tall grandfather clock to her right, ticked insessiantly. Otherwise there was no other sound in the room. She cleared her throat and continued. "I've recieved word that the Seattle Center mission was a partial success. It looks like we have Dim Shady in our custody, and we were able to remove the micro-chip implanted in one of our operatives." She flipped to another page in her files. "Sadly, Kelly Larksong and Rube were both casalties of battle. I see here though, that we've recieved a transmission from Sheri's tracker that Carrie Moon is dead."
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA - AMERICAN IDOL AUDITIONS
"I cannot believe this bullshit, Jos,"Shannon Crowbar kicked a pebble across the cracked sidewalk angrily. "We've already been in line once! For hours! Only to have our audition ruined."
"That's all for now! I want every one of you to practice for tomorrow, and try to perfect that high kick to a tight rotation movement. Remember that we can't have a stellar performance if half of you are lying on the floor clutching your crotches." Paula Snatchdual whiped her forehead with a small terry-cloth towel. She watched her dance students exit the auditorium, one in particular. Christina Aguilera, leader of the GAF. Paula had been requested by a close friend to perfect Christina's latest dance moves for her appearence on the approching Big Stereotypical Music TV Awards (otherwise known as the BSM TV Awards). She honestly doubted anyone knew about her involvement with the Syndicate, but in order to keep any suspicions quelled, she humbly accepted the offer. In fact, she thought, it was the perfect oppurtunity for the Syndicate to keep tabes on the fiesty diva. If she was able to keep a close eye on Miss. Aguilera, then chances were the Syndicate would be able to move in with ease, and destroy her. But, Paula added to her thoughts, rumor had it that Christina was surrounded by clone-doubles, and at any given time the "real" Aguilera was not the girl that was in front of the cameras. That posed a problem.
Lounging casually in a lush, leopard-print sanctuary, Timothy waited for news from his associates; he was swathed in cool blues and grays, but felt more like reds and magentas. The news was good. Evieloo and Sherrie had escaped, thanks to the timely return of Dionne and The Bitch had survived the preliminary rounds in LA. The final 8 contestants (and four wild cards, one of which was the lovely and seductive if not spectacularly talented Shannon Crowbar) would be performing tonight in Los Angeles. Things had progressed swiftly thus far, and with only minor hiccups (save the incident in Seattle, of course).
Lawanda Luv, notorious superhero dispatcher -- contact and supporter of the Syndicate --- paced the floor in front of the large polished, wood desk in the same office Hannah Ripstorm Bandock had exited earlier. She was dressed in her usual multi-colored Chanel suit, her beehive hair immaculate, and her cat-eyed sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her gold Chanel earings rattled violently as she swung back around for another swift race over the tight weaved carpet. She hadn't mentioned anything to the Syndicate Leader, who was facing away from her in his tall leather chair, about why she had requested this meeting. She wasn't sure, in fact, how to begin. He, however, didn't seem to notice, waiting for her pacing to cease, and her explination to begin. A few minutes passed, and something clicked in Lawanda's mind.
"I want you to..."
The image on the screen suddenly flickered, buzzed, and died. Lawanda Luv and the man in the chair disappeared.
Judy Butt-Kick Childs was down on all fours. Scanning the lawn area beyond her position, she noted three large men pacing. The largest, and most imposing man, wore a professional-looking suit, had sunglasses and randomly talked while putting a finger to his ear. Secret Service, Judy recognized them instantly. Would Christina stop at nothing? The three men moved out of view, and Judy made a quick series of sumersaults and slides into another set of bushes. Peering over the top of a rather beautifully trimmed hedge, she motioned for her new partner, and daughter, Eviloo to follow. Edawg, with extreme agility, made her way over to the nicely trimmed hedges and handed a pair of binoculors to her mother.
Her heart beating a mile a minute in her chest, Evieloo attached a silencer to her each of her twin weapons; semi-automatic, laser-sighted, pearl-inlaid, and highly illegal. Stealthily the three women made their down a winding corridor and up a single flight of circular stairs. Soundlessly dispatching the security devices, Judy, Evieloo, and Mariah approached the gem-studded door of a Pop-Princess with too much time and money on her hands. A 24 karat Gold-etched sign announced its occupants name.
Christina watched the montiors intently. She seemed very interested in one that displayed a bathroom, and a young girl showering in it.
Rounding a corner, the trio was in a line with Mariah Scarrey in the lead and Judy Kick-butt bring up the rear. Evieloo hesitated, glancing down at her shoes and dropping immediately to retie the left one so that she didn't mistakenly trip over the loose laces. Behind her, her mother nearly fell over her in the darkness and cursed under her breath. Mariah, unaware, continued on.
Shuddering a bit from the cold evening breeze, Lawanda Luv waited for "the package" to be dropped off and her job with the Syndicate to finally conclude. She watched a few stray men and women moved around the vast parking lot, some of them loading packages of their own into their cars, others downcast and moving sullenly to where ever they were going. Lawanda checked her costume absent-mindedly, already sure that the disquise was perfect. Her thoughts ran back and forth over the last few weeks that she had played "rover" for the Syndicate. She remembered the hurt look in T&A Girl's eyes when she apprehended her as Stacey Flounce, and the shock and bewilderment on The Bitch's face when she was lying dead and bleeding in Rube's arms as Kelly Larksong. Such grand subterfuge. Such a grand plan. Only a few people knew exactly what Janus was planning, and she figured it was better that way. Mariah Scarrey knew, but by now she was dead. Hannah knew some of the plan, but only because Lyle was key in its delivery. Mackdaddy knew, but his information was tainted, posioned by her own words. Such a shame, she thought, watching the parking lot lights flicker on slowly. The grand plan was awesome, gutsy and completely fierce and she wanted to tell someone. But I can't, she reminded herself. It will all be clear soon enough. But by that time, she would be back with her orginal team. Even they will feel the power of the "grand plan". She smiled.
Well shit, Evieloo cursed, as she slammed the trunk harshly, narrowly missing Christina's unconscious head. Where's Mom? I hope she got out alright...I can't take the time to go back through the house...guard'll be waking up and I gotta do my thing... Shit! With a silent prayer for her mother, Evieloo rounded to the front of the black Mercedes and reached into her pocket. From its depths she withdrew a small electronic device. A trio of buttons marched down the front of the slim detonator. With one finger, she flipped up the protective fiberglass covering. First the blue button; an explosion at the back of the house. Then the green; a fire burst forth from the garage. This one's for you, D she blinked back a tear and depressed the red button.
"Come on already!" A pair of hands took hold of Aveneral's sleeve and yanked her out of the SUV. Confused and disoriented, she stood unsteadily on her feet, blank look still staring out at the world. To the small group, that had assembled to greet her, she looked useless, unresponsive and mundane. Lawanda Luv, however, knew that this stage would pass, as soon as the Mackjuice dispersed from Aveneral's system.
"I knew I would find you here!"
Hannah swung around.
"The loss of Mariah was unacceptable you know, but Janus is being reasonable about it. Avenereal is already undergoing the transformation. She'll be performing for KaZaa by tomorrow evening." Her surprise visitor took a casual step closer, drawing deeply on a thin, black cigarette. "They've managed to apprehend and secure so many, JHoe, Britney, Skittlez, the Backdoor Boys, and most of Sync'N. Though its a pity about Lance Boil. Too many deaths will cast suspicion on the project. You and yours well know that, Ripstorm. So why so many little failures?"
Timothy cleared his throat. Random thoughts twisted and turned in his head. What exactly was Josie referring to? He wondered what was going on. He knew, of course, that the Bitchfonda Project was more then anyone had been told previously. Josie's voice, however, lead him to believe that even he did not understand it all. His eyes sought out his friend's on the other side of the screen.
Jaymes shot up, sitting straight up in bed, drenched in sweat and shaking in terror. No, no...it was just a dream, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It was just a dream, right? He leaned back against the pillows, sighing in relief.
"I know what we can do." Again Mack made a dramatic pause. Josie arched an eyebrow insistently. "We can deactivate LYLE!" he went on.
Dionne picked up the cellphone. "Its working Mack. They are trying to track my pseudo-hack. Logging in under your IP has completely thrown them off track. Are you still able to access your backdoor?"
The sky was a clear azure blue, thin clouds spun over its expanse like pulled cotton. The sun blazed above the city streets and the high imposing buildings like a watchful god. But god or no, Josie knew that the sun would not reign down vengence on her enemies. It laughed at her from its lofty position, seeing all, but mocking her for her own helplessness. Even with all the power infused into her by Timothy and the rest of the Bitchfonda team, she still remained a prisioner of this tiny safehouse apartment. If Mack's back-door plan succeed, she would find freedom soon enough, but with her lover sleeping only a few feet away, she wondered if that freedom would find her before anyone else got hurt.
This is such a bad idea...this is such a bad idea... Mack fretted as they traversed the city. Oh God, this is such a bad idea... But neither Evieloo, nor he himself, had been able to convince The Bitch otherwise. And The Bitch, she certainly was. Though there was a resigned sadness in her eyes, Josie had turned on 'Bitch-mode' and quickly, efficiently gone about collecting her friends and making way to turn them in. No longer could he see the ambitious sparkle that marked the presence of his lover. There was no loving smile, no tender caress. She had completely withdrawn within The Bitch and he was frightened that she would not be able to resume her own persona when they succeeded.
ou ready?"
The Rammer stared blankly at the dark haired woman, realizing that she did not feel even the slightest bit of empathy for his confusion. She was only a messanger. It wouldn't do any good wasting time standing here and trying to figure out what was happening. It was more important to discover the whole truth in a safe location. He nodded, trying to convince the mysterious messenger that he was prepared for any turn of events.
Shannon Crowbar sulked. She had only just finished a forced Duet with the man who came in a close second to Rube in the sequel season to American Idol. Clay was a lovely singer, and Shannon had indeed crushed on him while he performed on the show...but he was in as sour a mood as she having been first coaxed, then cajoled and coerced, and finally commanded to perform.
"I hate guns," Hannah murmmered, looking down at the small revolver on her lap. Of course it was necessary to carry one. The compound was not a friendly place. Every day new recruits came through the door, and every day her workload increased as well as the danger. Oddly enough she didn't seem to notice her discomfort. Her mission was paramount and her discomfort was the least of her concerns. She stared at the gun. Looks like I will have to use this. She shuddered. A recent recruit, Shannon Crowbar, unfortuneately needed to be eliminated. Information had reached her that some Split-Cell Syndicate officers (who had found out about this operation) placed Miss Crowbar in her complex to foil her plans. Sadly, such a shaky attempt would only result in blood-shed. Shannon might have been forced to run this mission without her consent, and Hannah realized that she would not be eliminating the actual source of this problem, but nothing could be done. "I hate politics," she hissed. Efficientcy was absolutely crucial in such an organization and even more so with the amount of celbrity she had under her watchful eye. It was only a matter of time before The Bitch was apprehended and LYLE was booted up to the Satelitte program. After that, her job would reduce dramatically, and her much deserved vacation would most likely commence. She smiled.
Everything moved in slow motion as Dirty Bitch took over. The titanium-alloy handcuffs - indestructable, they were oft touted by high-security military operatives - snapped like cheap Carnival plastic toys as the full power of The Bitch broke free. In an instant She was on the guard, he was dead before his body hit the ground; his head lolled on a shattered neck that could not support it. Josie felt immediate remorse, but she was overpowered by the Dirty Bitch protocol.
Calm down. She was nearly beside herself with worry. How could this have happen? Dirty Bitch was suppose to be a latent program. What had happened? Anne felt tiny beads of sweat forming on her forehead, and quickly wipped them away with her arm. She still held the gun in her hand, smoking from its recent discharge. She looked absently at the body on the floor. Shannon was no longer a concern. She was beyond that....far beyond. Where were they? She turned to the wall of security monitors. One by one the screens went blank, as the Dirty Bitch moved fluidly through the main Syndicate building. Very soon now she would find the train. Anne wondered if Josie knew how large the complex really was. She doubted it. Josie wasn't in the 'loop' and that bit of fact comforted Anne. At least she still had time. But what about the rest of her team? She noticed Evieloo, Dionne....Mackdaddy....and her old comrade Quack following the Dirty Bitch. Where was Laurel, Judy....Jaymes? More importantly, where was Timothy? Was he still in custody?
Click. Click. Click.
Buried, trapped inside her own mind as the Dirty Bitch Protocal took over, Josie could only sit back and watch. How odd, to be watching the events happen through your own eyes, but to feel as if they were someone else's. The strange clicking went unnoticed by DBP, but Josie herself, had plenty of time to analyze the noise. Like an old fashioned wiretap on an archaic phoneline, she thought fanning out slowly across some unused circuits. DBP was pulling at most of the system resources, but The Bitch was used to skulking around stealthily and managed to avoid being detected. She worried that DBP would do more than force her into the background if it realized what she was doing.
He stared at his hands, wrinkled and spotted, the old aged painted dramatically over each finger, knuckle, wrist. Contrary to what he had been told, time wasn't his friend and all of the various elixirs and creams had benifited him little in the past fifty years. The sliver of sunlight breaking through the curtianed windows brought little hope that even with illumination,his age would still darken his mood.
"She was my finest creation..."
And so it went. The better part of an afternoon spent retelling the strange tale of The Bitchfonda Project. Timothy's voice grew stronger with the passing hours, and his niece was amazed at the spark that lit his eyes. He told her the secrets of Hannah 'Ripstorm' Bandock, manipulating the events behind the scenes, playing both sides equally well. Long forgotten names, once household celebrities, like Skittlez, Britney Pikes, Mariah Scarry, sprinkled liberally throughout the tale as The Bitch sought out her enemies in the Good Aguerila Faction. Eventually, the story twisted back on itself, and with tears in his eyes, the old man spoke of betrayal, of clones and assassination attempts. He explained the relationships and confusing, turbulent world that Evieloo, Dionne, Judy Kick-Butt, Lenora Bigguns, Shannon Crowbar, Sherrie Wine and Carrie Moon, Jaymes Rammer, Quack, Christopher Mackdaddy Lee, Josie, and Timothy himself had tried to shape. The grandiose ideas that The Bitch clung to, that she believed she had been created to fulfill. The darker side of Janus and Ms. Hancock's plots. There was so much to tell...
Continue reading "...She Was My Finest Creation"
"Are the processors online yet?" Although sounding hollow, the acoustics in the aft compartment were sufficiently carring her voice. Jenna made a quick note and moved deeper into the craft. "Holly, Abel are you both picking up the wave distortion on the bridge?" There was a moment of silence. "We're picking up several different bio-wave distortions up hear, Jenna, but nothing to get over-excited about. Abel just thinks it's the Wize-Emitters. Ameythst is bringing them online right now with the processors. When you finish checking the aft compartment, you should come up to the bridge to greet the new members."