i've had so much free time
so with some minor firther ado, heeeeere's
Chapter 18: Death Toll
“It has come to our attention that no character has developed yet,” Death maintained earnestly.
“Yeah,” agreed Ran.
“And I’d like to point out, many of them have.”
“I would too,” nodded Ran.
Death kicked him, killing him instantly. “For example. Galidor. Everyone thought he was dead. But
noooooo, that wasn’t good enough for the refined tastes of the upper-lower-middle classmen such as yourself! So we brought him back to life. Plenty of development there, obviously.”
“Dying doesn’t develop, De-“ Ran started before Death punted him across the room with a mighty kick.
“Dying develops everything,” reasoned Death simply. “You’d be surprised at how much a character’s personality changes if they can’t move or talk. Henceforth I believe there should be more of it.”
“But De-“ Ran stated before Death blew him over with a gentle breeze. Ran crashed into the ground with a soundly
FFP.
“Anyway,” continued Death. “Um, wait. ‘FFP?’” he asked.
“I’m not in charge of sound effects,” said Ran.
Zub sipped his lemonade contentedly as he watched his friends. Derpy Moos sat with him, drinking… milk.
“Eff Ecks!” Death yelled in the general direction of up. “Get down here!”?
Suddenly, the tall, lanky man commonly referred to as Eff Ecks by now appeared from thin air. “Yes?” he asked.
“’FFP’? Really?”
“The best part of being in charge of sound effects is that you get to make up your own,” he said before disappearing.
“Author!” Death cried out in the general direction of down.
“Yo?” asked the author who also appeared from seemingly nowhere.
“First off, you and I BOTH know you came from somewhere!” exclaimed Death. “Second, I believe a new compensation is in order!”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you remember Chapter 6?” asked Death, eyes narrowing.
“You’re not supposed to know of that.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?! You’re the author, we’ve all interacted, and I’m not SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT THE STORY TAKES PLACE IN CHAPTERS?!”
“In normal fics, people don’t,” the Author pointed out.
“Yeah, well we do.”
“I ignore your statement and inject it with my own!” yelled the author.
“We most certainly do not know of this, O Glorious and Wickedly Handsome Author.” Realizing what he just said, Death stopped. “You’re making me sound like the narrator from… that one thing. Except about you instead of me.”
“Yeah. Go on with what you were talking about, though.”
“I find it unfair that you let the commie-bot, of all people, narrate.”
“Hey!” protested Ran. “That’s, like, racism! I AM OFFENDED! HEAR ME!”
“It was supposed to be some sort of thing where it showed the horrible future and how Ran remembers the past, which was horrible!” the author attempted to justify himself.
“HEY!” protested Ran. “I haven’t read that far in yet! SPOILER ALERT!”
Death continued on. “I think I deserve a chance to write today’s chapter.”
“No way! I‘d rather let Zub narrate it!”
“…He can’t, though,” pointed out Death.
“Exactly.”
“Look, just let me narrate one day, pleeeeease?” begged Death, throwing himself to his knees.
“Fine, whatever,” muttered the Author. “I’m done babysitting this group of… things. Seriously, you guys are like giant, idiotic babies.”
This has been a PSA from your loyal attendees from Zub: The Adventures of Stuff.
We feel as though it was helpful to all audiences of all ages to better understand… everything.
And now back to your randomly updating program.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Death burst in through the doors of the CEO’s office.
“I’m here for our money!” he announced before looking around, noticing something very strange was going on.
Looking around, he noticed several strange things.
On the CEO’s desk, it revealed that the man was named Larry deLohb Starr.
In one corner, there was an open closet with several used legwarmers that could very well have come straight from the 70’s hanging out of it.
In another corner, Zub was tied to the ceiling like a piñata, where several sock puppets were beating him senseless with large, stuffed fork plushies.
In the center of the room was a horribly obvious wine stain.
“I’ve figured out what’s wrong!” Death announced in a horrified tone. I’m just saying, this guy was HOT when he said it. Totes full of swag. “Legwarmers! I mean, SERIOUSLY, that’s DISGUSTING, man!” he yelled, using capitalization to express the horror.
Note to self; narrating is FUN! Note also to self; caps for emphasis. ♥-, Death
Larry looked up, stunned. ”My legwarmers!” he cried with a token flush of embarrassment. “They were a present from my ex!”
Looking around, Death noticed Zub and waved. “Hello friend!” he called out.
Zub’s unconscious body hung there.
Larry got off the floor and headed tot Death, handing him a crate filled with money. “Here. Take it,” he muttered.
“Awwww, is someone grumpy?” he asked sweetly before skipping away. “Send Zub back before dinner!”
Larry threw a bucket of ice-cold water onto Zub. “Wake up,” he said. “Your friend went full insanity level. Like, taking it up to an eleven or something. Wait, do dials even go that high?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, Miror B.’s reformation group was undergoing… a reformation.
Death laughed out loud, realized he did, then posted images of himself on the internet with subtitles such as “LOL!”
Anyway, the quartet of villains sat around a campfire Miror B. had retrieved from his afro. It was cozy and made the chocolate more delicious.
“Hey, where’d you get this?” asked Gary Stu to Mary Sue, mouths full of gooey, delicious chocolate.
“Uh… let’s just say I knew a guy,” she said sheepishly.
Miror B. sat up. “Oo la la!” he said teasingly before setting himself back into focus. “Anyway, we need a new acronym to better represent us.”
Eff Ecks slumped down further, allowing the chocolate to run down his pristine attire. “Let’s name it the Acronymic Foreign Rebuttal Organization, so people think we’re okay,” he said.
“Perfect!” purred Miror B. ”The acronym is even AFRO!”
Next, we’ll need transportation,” murmured Gary Stu.
Miror B. winked. “I wouldn’t say that.”
=====================================
Miror B. ran down through the streets extremely fast.
Out of each side of his afro (left, top, and other left) protruded a person; Eff Ecks on top and the two others on either side.
“Swag!” cried out Gary Stu zealously.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, Ran was still upside down.
“Hey, Death?” he asked. “Could you let me down, since you’re temporarily omnipotent and all?”
“Okay,” Death shrugged. Positioning himself directly below Ran, he lit a firecracker and ran.
AHAHAHAHAHHA HGET IT RAN? CUZ HIS NAME IS RAN AND I RAN
IT’S FUNNY, OKAY?! LAUGH!
Ran rubbed his head. “That pun hurt more than the fall,” he moaned. “Seriously, I think half my brain is ruined.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The author glanced at Eff Ecks nervously. Eff Ecks returned the glance. The two had been pulled away from their usual positions to handle an emergency.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Eff Ecks.
“Not at all,” responded The Author. “But he’s gone insane with power…. off-screen, of course.”
The opened the door to the vault and stepped into a padded, cushiony room. In the center a girl sat, bound tightly.
“Her hair is a MESS!” exclaimed Eff Ecks. The Author elbowed him.
“Hey Glitter,” the Author said nervously, thought it caught her attention from sitting on the floor, heaving. “We need your help.”
“Where’s Fishlips and Machiavelli?” she grunted.
“Wait, is this implying that she’s met both?”
“Yes, idiot,” Glitter replied, staring at him emotionlessly. “What, have you not?”
“They couldn’t make it,” apologized the Author as Eff Ecks glared at a wall.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Death sat upon his throne made of platinum proudly.
“So, Death City is going to replace Lilycove, and then…” he trailed off. “I need a theme song!” he exclaimed. “It would be extra special since the fic itself doesn’t even got one! And I’ll play it with my pyrorchestra… Assuming they’re not dead from being on fire. In which case, it would be a NECRORCHESTRA!”
He giggled to himself.
“I love this!” he yelled to no one. Then he realized something.
He was alone.
“I need friends!” he announced. “I will introduce characters!”
A robot that appeared to be strikingly familiar materialized before him.
“Welcome… ah, Zibbot Steelpants!” he announced happily.
“Computing,” answered the robot. “Is this a reference to that one great Spongebob game?”
“I see you have been tailored to my exact specifications. Also, duh!” said Death. “Now, onto busi- WHOA WHO’S THAT CHICK!” he exclaimed as a girl, who was definitely insane burst into his court.
She was very attractive; a nice, slender figure that fit well into the jeans and sparkly top she was wearing. Her hair was neatly brushed into a ponytail, and her shoes seemed light and easy to wear.
Oh, and she was holding a sniper rifle loaded with tranquilizer darts.
“Your bony butt will be mine!” she shrieked, leaping at him. Realizing what was happening, he took off running. Glitter followed, laughing the sort of laugh that would get most people locked up in an absolutely safe capsule for several hundred years.
“She’s freakin’
insane,” commented Eff Ecks, still a little upset over her earlier comment.
The Author nodded. “Why do you think we released her from the asylum and then sent her after Death?”
“Because Machiavelli was at the Pokémon Contest Master Hall, watching… I don’t know, contests or something.”
“…what else would she honestly watch there?” asked the Author.
Eff Ecks decidedly decided to decidedly ignore the question. “Hey, wanna grab a bite to eat? I’m famished.” The Author shrugged and they walked off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Galidor stormed out of the town limits without his posse. They were too afraid.
They knew something about Zub that he didn’t. Something happened while he was dead.
Something… lively. Get it?
“Let’s go, Dogars,” he grunted as the gaseous Pokémon followed from a respectable distance.
“Tally ho!” exclaimed the Koffing. “I’ve always wanted to say that, I’ll have you know!”
“Shut up!” moaned Galidor. “We need some sort of way to travel quickly, and I need to think!”
“We could always have a poorly contrived plot device,” suggested Dogars distastefully. “Wouldn’t be the first time in this story.”
“Excellent idea!” applauded Galidor. “Now, how do we get one?”
The Koffing had no idea.
“Maybe only they occur to solely main characters?” Dogars coughed.
“That’s dumb,” scoffed Galidor.
“Dumb, dumb like a moose! Dumb like a MOOSE!” screamed a voice somewhere in the general describable vicinity of the obscenely vacant direction of left. Looking in the aforementioned direction, the found a teenager in lucratively modern clothes and a baseball hat playing with a Void Cube. His most notable feature was definitely his long, unkempt green ponytail.
“Who are you?” Galidor grunted.
The stranger did a bit of a spin and finished with a bow. “I have no idea!” he grinned.
“What?” Dogars politely interrupted.
The man shrugged. “I have no clue. I remember flying on some white, large fire thing… then I slipped off, no more memory for me!” he said merrily, with a hint of sadness in his voice. “Maybe it’s for the better, I guess.”
Galidor came up with a self-proclaimed ‘great idea’. “
We’ll name you!”
“Wh-what?” the stranger asked/
“We’ll create a name for you, since you don’t have one. How about… Corn Ostrich Omnomnomagon?” After pausing for a moment, he thought. “Or just Corn, for short.”
The man perked up at the idea. “I like it!” he then ran around in corners, yelling “I AM CORN! I AM CORN!” akin to a character many chapters earlier.
“Okay, Dogars, Corn, let’s go!” announced Galidor with an essence of finality. “Let’s go find a plot device!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know! exclaimed the author Death, forgetting (to the embarrassment of the real Author) to put quotation marks around that last sentence. “I’ll write a cover up scene to hide!”
=====================================
Wild Palkia is exerting its pressure!
“What does that even meeeeean!” screamed the Mew. “-Hic, I don’t understaaaand!”
“Drink the beer! Drink the beer!” chanted the pantheon of assembled Legendary Pokémon, led by the Palkia.
Mew panicked and chugged down the entire industrial-sized container of alcohol as the crowd cheered.
Then Arceus burst in.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING,” it asked sweetly. “YOU ARE ALL OUT OF BED AFTER I TUCKED YOU IN.”
“But daaaaad,” whined Dialga. “We’re having
fuuuuun.
“NO EXCUSES.” said Arceus patiently. “UNLESS…. UNLESS YOU THINK YOU CAN BEAT ME IN A DANCE-OFF!”
The crowd exchanged nervous glances. None of them could dance, and Arceus was world-renowned for all the dancing competitions he had one. Maybe it was because he ended up accidentally stepping on the other contestants, which wasn’t very appealing either.
“I’ll do it!” announced Reshiram bravely.
“WAHAHAHAHA,” laughed Arceus mechanically. “I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY.”
“Isn’t that what I just offered to do?”
“AHEM. YES. WELL, LET’S GO… IF YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE IT!” roared the Arceus, laughing, as it began to lay down wicked dance moves.
“I’m sure I’ll manage,” sneered the Reshiram, not even making a move.
“OH? I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY,” scoffed Arceus.
“Oh, I will…” promised Reshiram, reaching to pull his face. After doing so, it revealed that all was not as it seemed. “Because I am actually Miror B.!” he announced proudly, stepping out of the remains of the costume and onto the legendary dance floor.
“NOOOOOOOO!” ROARED Arceus as a
familiar groove kicked in.
Arceus regained its composure quickly, however. “I SHALL NOT LOSE, REGARDLESS!” it announced, beginning to dance harder and with more passion. Miror B. effortlessly kept up.
“Is that all you got, O Un-Great Space Llama that Lays Eggs?” taunted Miror B., legs flailing with sheer dancing prowess.
“OH, IT IS ON,” stated Arceus, shrill with calm calamity. “WHEN YOU WERE BORN, YOU WERE… BALD!”
Miror B. gasped, refusing to lose his tempo and temper all the same. “You take that back right now!”
“NO.”
“Well, at least
I have a mother, instead of just coming from nothing!”
Arceus stamped his foot. “SHUT YO MOUTH!”
The crowd of legendary Pokémon were by now rooting and cheering with immense exhilaration.
“Shake what yo’ momma gave you- OH WAIT!” said Miror B., doing a taunting, yet strangely giddy dance.
“ARGH! I DO TOO HAVE A MOTHER!”
“Oh? Then where is she?”
“YOU WOULD KNOW.”
Right on time, an Arceus whose size surpassed even the previous one leaped out of Miror B’s afro.
“MOMMY!” exclaimed Arceus.
“OH, MY BABY BOY! I’VE MISSED YOU!” wailed the Mother Arceus, weeping tears of joy.
“…How long were you in my afro?” Miror B. asked tensely.
“ABOUT THREE YEARS,” shrugged Mother Arceus as casually as she could.
“And you DIDN’T EVEN PAY RENT?!” exploded Miror B. with a sudden burst of anger.
“TAKE THAT BACK NOW!” cried Arceus. “MY FAMILY IS STILL MISSING!”
Then, right on cue, a familial herd of Arceus leapt out of Miror B.’s afro all at once.
“MY BROTHERS! MY SISTERS! DADDY!” screamed Arceus with immeasurable joy. “ALRIGHT, FINE! WE NEED A FAMILY PICNIC! LEGENADRIES, YOU CAN STAY HERE AND PARTY WHILE I REUNITE!” he exclaimed as the whole herd flew off.
Ran climbed out of Miror B.’s afro. “I have no idea what just happened,” he said, confused.
=====================================
“That was…
terrible,” gagged Eff Ecks. “Why did you let him do this?!”
Ignoring the question, the Author consulted his walkie-talkie. “Any progress on capturing Death?” he asked into it.
On the other hand, Glitter grinned with an insane twist. “I’m hot on his heels, rifle fully loaded.”
The Author clapped his hands gleefully. ”Excellent!” he cried out.
Glitter turned off the walkie talkie and leaned over the stack of businessmen she was hiding behind. She carefully aimed at Death’s head with deadly precision, then steadied her finger on the trigger….
“Your bony butt is mine, Death!” she screamed fiercely as she pulled the trigger.
Death turned toward her direction, an expression of boundless shock on his face. “Zubbot Steelpants, attack!” he screamed as he took off running.
“Lumpin’ diversions!” she screamed. “here’s that robot?! I want to beat the crap out of him!”
“
Computing,” stated Zubbot Steelpants, slowly approaching her from the back. “Error! ERROR!
ERROR! NO CRAP FOUND TO RID BODY OF VIA KICKING!” the robot screamed.
Throwing her rifle down, she prepared herself to fisticuff. “Come on, your move,” taunted Glitter.
Zubbot Steelpants nodded. “Affirmative.” It positioned either of its fists tro where her fists were.
His chest slid open, revealing a boxing glove.
It flew out and punched her in the gut, giving him enough time to escape.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ran and a badly scorched Joey (as well as Ran’s corpse) at around a campfire they had made in a trashcan.
Then a man dressed in a wondrously elegant blue-and-royal-purple suit approached them Ran waved pleasantly.
“Hello Author,” he said, watching his marshmallow roast. “First time I’ve seen you out of your usual bodysuit.”
The author shrugged. “I need to be dapper,” he said. “Anyway, we need your help. If you agree, I’ll even… uh… EVOLVE RANSHAO!”
Ran’s interest was piqued, as he loved his little Magby oh so much.
“Done deal!” he proclaimed, sending out Ranshao. “Get ready to evolve, little guy!”
Upon release, Ranshao was bathed in a blinding white light.
“Guess it’s evolving,” muttered Joey groggily, who was still sore from being set ablaze then falling several dozen feet to the ground.
As the glow slowly subsided, Ranshao was replaced with a tall, muscular yellow Pokémon.
“YELOW?!” exclaimed Ran in angst. “You can’t be yellow! You were red a minute ago, and red are good! Plus, yellow is the colour of my second worst enemy; DANDELIONS!”
Ranshao the Electabuzz chirped sadly.
“Evolve again, and evolve right, please!” begged Ran as Ranshao was covered in another glow.
“Jynx?” he asked when the process was done.
“ARGH!” screamed Ran, storming off.
