The $300,000 Fight-A-Thon! [Round Two: Toyetic!]

Sal looked around and sighed. Here he was, working another long shift in the sun, heat and the dreadful smell of the Brinehook Street Fish Market. Normally content to work the storage freezers, today he had been called on to help keep the stalls stocked.

"Why did I even decide to work here?" Sal moaned to himself as he shifted a crate of rather ripe smelling carp to make room for some newer catch. "My damn nose is ready to cut itself right off my face and run."

With a sigh, Sal wandered over to the newest crate at the stall. "Hm, quite a large catch." he mused as he pryed open the lid. Inside, to Sal's slight surprise, were dozens of shark fins. "What a catch indeed." Sal smiled to himself, thoughts of a nice paycheck in his mind as he reached to pick up one of the fins.

The fin's owner, however, was rather keen on keeping it on his back.

Ironjaw growled to himself. He couldn't see where he was, the smell was horid and worse of all, he didn't get to kill Axys. "Just my fucking luck. I swear that bloke is going to get it once I find him." Suddenly, Ironjaw felt a hand grab his fin. With a jolt, Ironjaw's fist swung up. WHAM! As fins were sent flying, Ironjaw shot to his feet and looked around. "Fucking kidding me? A FISH MARKET?!?" Looking back into the crate he felt even worse. "SHARK FINS!?!? Oh, now that bloke and those kids are really dead!" As he stepped out of the crate, Ironjaw noticed a human laying on the ground. He was holding his chin, witch now bore a nice bruise thanks to Ironjaw's fist. "You were the one who grabbed me huh?" he snarled. "Heh, weak and not worth my time." Before he could walk away, he felt a hand lightly grab his jumper sleeve. "Now what?" Ironjaw turned to find the human looking at a watch that had suddenly appeared on Ironjaw's arm. "The hell is this?"

Sal felt his heart jump as he looked at the watch. "Could it be? Could the stories be true?" Sal looked up at Ironjaw. "You...your a Watcher! Please... let me help you!" Before Ironjaw could argue, Sal had grabbed his wrist and stared at the watch. "Ah! It says that a Watcher house is near by. Please, let me take you there. I've heard that its full of weapons and other items to help the Watchers in there never ending war with each other." As Sal stood up he looked at Ironjaw, a look of awe, desire and submission to someone he had just clearly mistaken for someone else.

With a smirk, and not one to pass a chance to get a leg up on the others, Ironjaw simply nodded and said, "Lead on then."

“This is dangerous! This is very dangerous!”

“IT'S A BULLET. IN A FOOT.”

“S-shut up! I'm the doctor here!”

The doctor was a man of slight built and of slight confidence. He was mousy but rather pallid; although it was debatable if that was his natural complexion or an indicator of his current psychological state as he looked fairly uncomfortable with a eight-foot-tall dragon hovering over him. The doctor tried to scavenge some semblance of courage and professionalism by attempts towards medical diagnosis - if medical diagnosis could be constrained as “poking Silvestris everywhere with a tongue depressor.” Doctor Mus his name tag read in curly handwriting. A DOCTOR.

Guillemet could not help but roll her eyes.

(I swear I am a real doctor guys), a footnote pleaded at the bottom of the name tag. Mus had many name tags – arranged in a way like spots on a Dalmatian. A REAL Doctor, one proudly declared. Do not mess with, admonished another. PhD in biologies, chemstries and other science-logies. (I swear I have the credentials, sir/madam/other).

“But I do know what to do!” Mus spun around – forcing a smile like he meant it but let's face it, he didn't meant it anyway.

“OH SURE,” Guillemet frowned, immediately dampening Mus' spirits. She took note of the fact that Mus not only wore too many name tags but also too many labcoats. And at least three layers of protective gloves. “WHAT IS IT.”

“Ah-ah, ASA, a phenomenally wondrous drug. Mass-produced, wide-spread, and rather effective, shall I say? Otherwise known as acetylsalicylic acid.”

Guillemet blinked a couple times. And sighed.

“SO BASICALLY. ASPIRIN.”

“B-basically!” He beamed a smile. “I-I guess!”

“SO YOU ARE GOING TO TREAT HIS BULLET WOUND. WITH ASPIRIN.”

“It helped in the past,” Mus proceeded to dump an entire contents of aspirin onto a well of a spoon. Obviously, thirty-six tablets was too much for a capacity of an average-sized dinnerware to handle so most fell to the ground. “So it will definitely help in the future!”

Guillemet slapped the spoon away. The remainder of the tablets clattered down to the floor, never to be ingested by anyone.

What a waste.

“ARE YOU. REALLY. A DOCTOR.”

The dragon menaced forward. Mus step back in instinct, causing a plate of rusty surgical tools to clatter noisy on the floor. It was obvious they had not been used for a long time, if not years. He glanced at a scalpel – its obsidian edge long dull – and glanced back at Guillemet. He had basically not defense and the threat basically one foot. He gulped.

“Y-yes I am, can't you see? I'm helping him! H-honest!”

“OH YEAH, HELPING HIM. TOTALLY. HELPING HIM GET BRONCHOSPASMS. PROTEINURIA. HEMATURIA. ENTEROPATHY. HYPERKALEMIA...” Guillemet kept rattling on about the symptoms as though she was reading from an pharmaceutical encyclopedia, giving the poor doctor absolutely no mercy. “HEPATOXICITY.” She glared with an aptitude of a disappointed professor, further belittling Mus and her enormous height certainly did not help. “URITCARIA. PAPILLARY NEUROSIS. PAPULOERYTHRODERMA--”

“S-salicylate toxicity, I GET IT, you pretentious twat.” Mus took off one glove and tossed into the dragon's yapping maw. He then proceeded to pull another from a box for the purposes of replacement – because hey, there is no such thing as excess in terms of safety. “What the fuck is with you and your c-c-condescending attitude?”

“OOOOH, USING WORDS BIGGER THAN YOUR BRAIN, I LIKE THAT.” Guillemet sneered as she swallowed the latex glove, much to the disgust of everybody in her vicinity. “MAYBE YOU AREN'T AS STUPID AS I THOUGHT YOU ARE, THOUGH I CAN'T QUITE FORGIVE YOU FOR THE ASPIRIN CURE.”

“I'm not s-stupid!” Mus had lost all confidence because all that was left was indignant fury.

“SO WHY NOT JUST EXTRACT THE GODDAMN BULLET.”

“W-WHAT? That's b-b-bloody! And violent! Also really gross!”

“THAT IS THE MOST OBVIOUS TREATMENT, EASY AS BREATHING, EVEN AN QUACK CAN DO THAT. IF YOU REALLY CAN'T DO THAT. YOU AREN'T A REAL MAN.”Guillemet snarled. “YOU AREN'T EVEN A REAL DOCTOR.”

Mus made an expression that more suited for a deer on a highway than a normal human being. His face twisted into something between sobbing uncontrollably or righteous frustration. He jabbed a finger at Guillemet.

“Get. Out.”

“FUCK YOU.”

“Get. Out.”

“YOU AREN'T EVEN A REAL DOCTOR.”

“W-well, I may be. I may be not,” he seethed. “But I am the doctor. The only doctor of this hospital. And the hospital is my domain – which means my rules and my views. You had not been complying with my rules through this diagnosis and you had been incredibly rude. Ruder than I can tolerate. I ask you to get out. Get. Out. Get. The.” It took him all his effort not to use profanity. “Gosh darn. Out.”

“WELL WHY DON'T I BEND DOWN SO YOU CAN KISS MY--”

Silvestris waved. He open and closed his mouth repeatedly while making a pinching gesture with his left hand. Guillemet guesstimated that as a statement meaning to comply with The-Worst-Doctor ever and she was right.

“FINE, 'DOC,' YOU WIN. ADIOS.” Guillemet flashed a vulgar gesture as she stooped below a door and out. “OH BY THE WAY.”

“YOU STILL SUCK.”

---

Well that was a certainly pointless.

Guillemet bobbed into the waiting room. It was an insipid and typical affair, featuring chairs, tables, and the worst carpet ever. The air was thick with dust, giving it an unpleasantly musty smell. There was a stand in the front intended for a receptionist but judging from the cobwebs – it was obvious a receptionist did not exist for a while. Inspiring bland jazz music played in the background. There was also sobbing. Guillemet sighed.

Guillemet, your passion in rhetoric is exemplary, but you need to hold yourself back more-- Trademark quipped in somewhere in her memory.

SHUT UP, TRADEMARK, YOU ARE FAT Guillemet thought back. With vengeance.

Rude, Trademark sniffed – well, what Guillemet think he would do. Needless to say, Trademark's words lessen in importance and disappeared in a puff of logic before an unnecessary flashback could commence.

GOOD, Guillemet harrumphed. Yeah, Trademark had a point – perhaps if she was more constrained in the manner sense, her issues back at home would be less conflagrant. Her brothers and sisters would respect her more. The humans (those squishy, squishy humans) would fear her less – and would more readily accept her contributions. Yeah, she could be more empathetic, more polite but that takes her effort. Effort to slow down. Effort to explain basics (“WHAT YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A QUASICRYSTAL IS?”). Effort to have patience. Effort that is better wasted on other things.

She didn't even bother to think about San Francis anymore. Pretty sure they do fine without her. Plus, if things go to shit, they always have the neighboring Trademark to depend on. She had other important things to focus on – mainly, the watch on her right.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS A WATCHER” she remembered saying when she was soaring to Toyetic Hospital and Clincs – not a long while ago, about ten minutes and thirty seconds ago based on the watch and her compulsive need for pedantry.

“Well,” Silvestris sheepishly smiled. “I don't exactly know either.”

Guillemet also remembered stopping mid-air and just briefly (but STRONGLY) considering dropping Silvestris – all one thousand feet – onto the asphalt. She was not the type of dragon who treated people who dole out useless information with any mercy. That had a tendency to get in trouble with the police force back in more familiar places.

“They are miracle makers,” Silvestris wistfully sighed, totally obvious (or willfully ignorant) of Guillemet's nefarious plots. “Using these warehouses, they built Toyetic from ground up, made it a place of prosperity and peace...”

Guillemet rolled her eyes and smashed through a building. A couple of tenants fell, screaming before the apartment crumbled into fine dust. Also cancer.

“...Made us...paragons and perfection...”

The dragon snorted into laughter, accidentally running into a flock of robotic birds. The flock erupted into small explosions. And cancer.

“...And then they left.”

”OH WELL.UH, THAT SUCKS.” A few seconds of silence.”SORRY ABOUT THAT.”

“What?! You don't need to be sorry. You are back!” Silvestris hugged Guillemet, causing her to flail in surprise. “And that is all that matters!”

”EW GROSS, STOP SPREADING YOUR INCOMPETENCE GERMS OVER ME,” Guillemet retched. “ALSO WHY ARE YOU SO INCOMPETENT ANYWAY. NO OFFENSE BUT YOU SUCK AS A POLICEMAN. WHY DOES THIS PLACE SUCK IN GENERAL.”

“It's kind of a difficult to explain...”

“FOR FUCK'S SAKE, I'M A SCIENTIST. I THRIVE ON LONG EXPLANATIONS.”

“You see. We ARE good at what we do...”

“OH HA HA THAT'S FRESH.”

“...but when we are told so.”

“OH?” Guillemet was intrigued.

“We literally thrive off the confidence, charisma of a leader...we only can be our best if we are led. If we are our lonesome, well, you know how quality we are.”

“WELL IT HAS BEEN ONLY FIVE MINUTES AND I THINK I ALREADY DESTROYED SIX BLIMPS. A BUILDING. AND UH, A FLOCK OF ROBOT BIRDS. YEEEEEP, SURE QUALITY.”

“And nothing really happened since the Toyetic existed” Silvestris looked sad, but then he looked positively happy. “Which is why we need you!”

“ME?”

“You are back!”

“I HAVE NEVER BEEN HERE BEFORE.”

“You are the best!”

“FUCK NO.”

“The Coach promised us you will solve everything!”

“THE COACH SPEAKS NONSENSE.”

“But he ensured us this was the truth! We love you! We know what you all look like! We even made merchandise of you guys because we think you are awesome!”

Silvestris dangled something in front of Guillemet's eyes. It was a keychain of Eriz Col-Myel, armor, history, and all. As a cat girl. It was absolutely atrocious and basically what you expect. Guillemet screamed.

“NO MEANS NO,” As egotistical as she was, Guillemet wasn't sure she wanted to lead these doormats if they could create that piece of shit. What if they made cat-girl keychains of other people? What if they made a cat-girl keychain of HER? “NO. N-O. FUCKING NO.”

”But we need you!”

“I DON'T WANT TO TAKE THIS RESPONSIBILITY,” Guillemet screamed, back to present but always back in reality. In order to contain her histrionics, she collapsed on a nearby chair.

Apparently the foundations cannot handle a force of a eight-foot-tall dragon's butt because the hospital collapsed.

---

Like everything else in its vicinity, the former Toyetic Hospital and Clinic was built in a way that was astoundingly shitty. It was to the point that even the falling debris was astounding shitty – as in, it fell and failed to kill people because that how much it sucks. Guillemet had to marvel at that phenomenon as there were absolutely, definitely, positively, no physical causalities. However, there were some psychological ones.

“I'M DEAD!” Mus screamed, bursting out of the rubble in a cloud of dust and cancer. “I'M REALLY DEAD!”

“You are very much alive,” Silvestris unhelpfully pointed out.

“Well,” Mus checked himself., uncharacteristically calm before freaking out again. “I'M CLOSE TO DYING!”

“YEAH” A nearby human head erupted out like a freaky blue palm tree. “BUT YOU APPARENTLY HAVE ENOUGH ENERGY TO KEEP SCREAMING YOUR HEAD OFF, LAZARUS.”

“I'M ILL!”

“I'M UNCONVINCED.”

“I'M PREGNANT!”

“YOU'RE A GUY.”

“I'M...SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW BUT IT'S PRETTY BAD!”

“OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE, CALM YOUR TITS.”

Guillemet then proceeded to shake Mus violently on the shoulders. Unfortunately, that brought her watch in close vicinity to the unemployed doctor's eyes. He gasped.

“Ohmygod,” Mus gasped again for theatrical effect. “Watcher.”

Guillemet had only one appropriate word for this situation.

“FUCK.”

reserveing to jump start kfat

EDIT: Working on it i swear.

i'm going to void my reserve. something came up and i can't really come up with a post right now. i'll try later in the week or so but i'm clearing things for someone else to post.

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I've been writing a post actually, and though I've had a few technical problems (the whole thing disappeared along with Windows itself, but it's all still in my head, y'know), I'll try to post sometime soon.

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Does anyone have a reserve down? I'm free to write for a good while if no one else is. Been meaning to actually go at something longer than a few scant paragraphs.

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Does anyone have a reserve down? I'm free to write for a good while if no one else is. Been meaning to actually go at something longer than a few scant paragraphs.

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Hard to tell Hobbesy. Flum said he's working on one but he didn't state a reserve. Last thing I'd want to do is say its ok to post and mess him up if he's close to done while at the same time not wanting to hold the round up waiting for if/when Flum posts if he is indeed close. Best bet I'm guessing would maybe wait till maybe monday or tuesday to see? I don't know really though. His post to me reads out as an intent to post sometime soon and not as a reserve.

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Hard to tell Hobbesy. Flum said he's working on one but he didn't state a reserve. Last thing I'd want to do is say its ok to post and mess him up if he's close to done while at the same time not wanting to hold the round up waiting for if/when Flum posts if he is indeed close. Best bet I'm guessing would maybe wait till maybe monday or tuesday to see? I don't know really though. His post to me reads out as an intent to post sometime soon and not as a reserve.

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Ah, well then. I will ask him about it on the PW IRC when he gets on. Thanks for the heads up though, prijatelju moj.

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Ugh sorry, that wasn't a reserve, much as I wish it could have been. Events have conspired to keep me away from the internet for unpredictable stretches of time. I'm working on this post whenever I get the chance, but anyone else can post in the meantime. Don't worry about messing me up.

Well, shit man. Reserve.

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Sooooo.... anyone seen Hobbs?

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I'm a few paragraphs into a post, kind of hit a couple of blocks because I can't write for fuck I've been busy. I can post what I have if you want, but it may have to wait a bit since I'm working on an assignment.

Franz von Schuster was definitely not an idiot; he had extensive knowledge on waging war,what to wear while waging war, and also waging wars in tanks. Schuster realized very early upon his entrance to the city of Toyetic that the Coach was an idiot-- an idiot who replaced his watch with another, far uglier watch. An ugly watch adorned with a series of very conspicuous blinking lights. A very cruel joke had been played, and the punchline was a severe drop in Schuster’s ability to operate operationally in operational environments.

Had he the omnipotence to know it, this revelation likely would have led to him considering the other contestants idiots as well. To a small underfed communist a bulky device covered in lights would clearly be the first thing anyone would notice on their person. Regardless, it would only serve to be a temporary annoyance as Schuster quickly removed the object and placed it one of the pockets on his jacket. It was very fortunate that he was also able to actually remove the device from his arm.

It didn’t take Schuster long to look around to get some bearing on his location. He was in an alleyway, and it didn’t take long for the sound of a bustling city street to grab his attention. When he walked to the end of the alley what he saw was shocking. The many high rises were absolutely plastered with advertisements containing the faces of all of the contestants except himself! Walking farther out onto the sidewalk, he also couldn’t help but the comment on the architecture of the buildings themselves.

“What nice sturdy walls this city has! It is almost like I am home in the Confederacy!”

None of the civilians walking along the street took note of his musing, and as a matter of fact no one even turned to look at him as they shuffled past. Looking up again at the many billboards of his foes Schuster was suddenly hit with an epiphany-- He really wasn’t on any of them, and no one was noticing who he was!

The ads plastered everywhere were for toys, the quickest way to prove his theory would be to find a store. Schuster scoped out exactly what he was looking for, and quickly made his way inside. He proved to be far from incorrect, as the walls were lined with dozens of brightly colored replicas of the other contestants.

“Can ah help ya?”

The owner of the shop had taken note of the relatively short man in combat gear gawking at his merchandise. If Schuster truly had the idea of blending in the populace he certainly had not come dressed the part.

“Uh, yes, zdravo! Do you, uh, know who I am?”

The shop owner was clearly confused by the question, hardly knowing exactly how to deal with an amnesiac in a ridiculous outfit. To make matters worse most of the customers were now awkwardly gawking at him.

“A cosplayer with a terrible accent? If yer not here to buy anything get out before I kick you out!”

Schuster wasn’t entirely pleased with this answer, he had no idea what a cosplayer was.

“This is very important, I promise you! I need to know if you have seen my face on these boxes before. I do not think you are realizing how famous I am.”

The store owner was beginning to have enough of this skinny nerd.

“If yer trying to be funny I’m gonna kick yer scrawny ass! Git out before you hold up the line.”

Schuster glared at the man, “Do not make me laugh fat man! I am a battle hardened tanker with over 300 confirmed Trios kill-”

When he awoke he was on the ground outside the store, his nose red with dried blood. The shop keep had kicked his scrawny ass out of the store. Schuster considered going back inside for a second round, but unfortunately the shop was now closed. A dust cloud hung in the distance, a sign that something had done damage to one of the many apartment blocks breaking up the skyline.

Figuring it was time to move on, Schuster picked himself up and removed the watch from his jacket. It was clear he was fortunately a nobody here, at the very least to the man who had knocked him out. It also became clear that the Coach was not a being with very good taste in wrist mounted time telling devices; the hands of the watch weren’t moving at all.

It wasn’t likely the device was without purpose however, its very existence proof that his presence in the battle had not been entirely forgotten. Schuster figured that the lack of stardom likely entailed some horrible plan to make the contest more interesting at his expense. Either that or the brute who owned the shop had broken it while throwing him to the curb.

The thought of having to ally again with one of the mutants filled his mind with disgust. There was no telling how well equipped they were compared to him either. It was no doubt that the populace would be supporting them given their status in this society. That could be easily changed. The destructive nature of the contest would sour opinions as their homes crumbled around them.

Schuster figured the rubble of the razed high rise was only a few short blocks from where he currently stood. Figuring it was better than nothing he began to walk, hoping he'd find one of the friendlier monstrosities. He was glad he likely wouldn’t have to include relying on filthy degenerates in any reports if and when he made it back to Tatarstian territory.

Sounds like it's time to fulfill my earlier reserve (this is a reserve, this time).

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*Pokes thread*

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*Pokes thread*

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*thread pokes back*

or more, yes, we read this thread too, to the irc pokes

The shopkeeper paled. While he was holding onto his shiny new check for $300,000, he retroactively realized something. Didn't that clock have a watch? As soon as he turned his head around to confirm, the wall, and in extent the whole south half, of the store collapsed. He barely had the time to wheeze "W...Watcher..." before he was trampled over and killed by a horde of panicking shoppers. The check was lost in the rubble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Someone pointed up in the sky. "Watcher!"

Ever since then, a group of people, proudly displaying their favorite Warden of the Sixth Ring hats, shirts, and scarves, gathered around the shadow cast by the floating Warden. Warden did not notice, of course, focused on his pursuit as he was. The people had been cheering on for their favorite Watcher. In fact, none of them could see the identifying watch, as Warden had tucked it away in his body, but nobody had the courage to speak up and remind them all of that fact. All in all, the scene was positively sickening.

Warden became aware of the rapid, yet faint, beeping within his body. He looked inwards himself, and found that he was directly above the source of the Light. He floated down, and found himself in the middle of the street. The congregation of people who had been following his shadow suddenly found his shadow too quick to keep up with, and were panting when they finally caught up. They were still cheering, and Warden, having found the ground in the way of his pursuit, finally looked around.

"...Did he find it?"

"Find what?"

"The warehouse, idiot!"

"Oh yeah."

It was only then that Warden noticed, in their lifelines, that they were all unnaturally incompetent. One such woman was a hairdresser who would always inadvertently shave half her customers' hair off, then pass it off as "the new style". Another was a sewer maintenance man who was woefully incompetent with a drill, and he had stains all over him from the "accidents" he caused. To be frank, he wasn't sure what to make of this. But, it was obvious supernatural forces were at work here. All the more reason to find this Light, then. He touched all four of his arms to the road below, then furiously started digging. The crowd simply looked upon with stupid smiles on their faces.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In an apartment somewhere...

He came home from a long day at work. "Honey, I'm home!" Such was the day-after-day tradition of the happily married couple. His wife replied from the kitchen. "In here, dear!" To which the businessman put down his briefcase, went down to the kitchen, and greeted his wife with a surprise hug from behind.

"Oh! Dear, no need to surprise me like that!"

"Baby, it's great to see you again. Boy, I'm parched! That was a long day at work."

"I'll make you a glass of water, dear."

"Would you? That sure would hit the spot!"

He sat down, and his wife gave him a glass of water. Something about it looked... off, though. It was just a tiny bit pinkish. He would have given it a second thought, but, like he said, he was parched. He greedily gulped down large sips... and promptly started vomiting. His wife ceased washing the dishes, and turned around, only to see her husband profusely vomiting, the vomit eventually turning to blood. As he puked his guts out, literally, she could do nothing but raise her hand to her mouth in horror. Unfortunately, her hand was wet from washing dishes, and some of it got in her mouth. She succumbed to the same fate as her husband, their bodies draped over each other on the blood-and-vomit-stained kitchen floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warden finally broke into the sewer system of Toyetic. This was really not a difficult task, as it was falling apart anyways. The putrid odor of the methane would have bothered an organic creature, but not Warden. He was aware of it, though. There was a certain sort of irony in his warehouse being located in the sewers below Toyetic, but that, he wasn't aware of. All he saw was that, right in front of him, was an giant door with a skull-shaped imprint in it. It seemed identical to his own face. He pushed his face into it, and was somewhat surprised when it fit perfectly. He rotated his entire body, making sure to keep his time consistent. With a puff of steam, the door opened. Inside was a small room, filled with cogs, weapons, and even a few classical torture devices.

"Finally."

Warden was pleased that such a motherload of equipment was finally available to him. He was expecting to find the Artiste, but there was no sign of its foul aura here. He remembered the fiasco of the first round, and hoped to never go through that again. With this, he was in control again. He found some oil, and greased his cogs with it, making his ticking suddenly less audible. He replaced a large number of gears with duplicates that were somehow exactly like the original. He took two M134 Miniguns, and replaced his lower two arms with them, making sure to stock a large ammo stockpile within his body. He even found a new face, which was a much deeper and more menacing black than his original face. He found a clock, which he calibrated, then made all the necessary adjustments.

As soon as he put on his new face, he saw a bunch of auras, which he did not detect before. He looked up, and noticed that his sin-sensing capabilities were vastly improved. The first thing that he noticed was that several people were currently dying in an apartment complex not far away from where he was, and he correctly deduced that someone was directly responsible for poisoning their water supply. Something sinister was at work here, and innocent lives were being lost. He would have to apprehend these sinners, and make them regret ever having existed. If he had a movable mouth, as well as a personality that allowed him to do so, he would have grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Its descent was nearly complete. Its mission was about to begin. Unfortunately, its descent had landed it near a crowd of people, which was currently crowded around a large hole in the middle of the road. As its light reached them, they started looking up, and the crowd parted in fright. It spoke.

"Do not fear me, for I am one of your Watchers."

Instead of rejoicing like it expected them to, they started murmuring amongst each other, and questioning it.

"Huh? But you don't have a watch."

"And I've never seen you around."

It was taken aback at this. Then someone shouted.

"Hey, wait a minute! I just remembered a question that had been bothering me all morning... If the legend of the Watchers say there are six Watchers, then why do we only have five?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look around."

Heads rolled, and some people noticed the discrepancy. Among the multiple advertisements messily plastered all over Toyetic's buildings, there were depictions of the Watchers. There was Ironjaw, a muscular shark-human hybrid; Eriz, a woman in a big robotic suit; Guillemet, a dragon scientist with a human face; Felus, a majestic god of cats; and finally Warden, a menacing clock with a skull for a face.

"Oh shit! We forgot one!"

"How did we not notice this?!"

"Did nobody seriously say anthing?"

If it had any eyes, it would have rolled them so hard they started hemorrhaging. It was lucky it didn't have them. It spoke again.

"So, do you believe me now? I am your last Watcher, the one you forgot all about. And I am here to save you all. Now, please bow before me."

As they prostrated themselves before it, it was content. Surely, one of its agents had already poisoned the water supply of an unimportant apartment complex, leading to a series of deaths and mass panic. If all went as planned, it would weed out and eliminate this "terrorist threat", causing it to become ingrained in the Legend of the Watchers.

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So. In case it wasn't clear, shit is about to go down in the formerly peaceful city of Toyetic, and the mysterious sphere last seen in !?'s post is behind it all. Feel free to interpret this whichever way you wish. If I rip open any new plot holes, please notify me through PM. Also, I am operating under the assumption that Cockfighter isn't a Watcher, and that everybody just kinda forgot about Franz.

It was of course unusual to find a cat in a burger joint, but this was the obscure burger joint on the summit of Mount Toyetic. The poor manager was glad to have any visitors at all, even if this one didn't look like a paying customer. He pulled up a brightly colored stool and sat across from the cat, who was poking around the grill.

“You like some fries with that, kitty?” The cat looked at him pointedly, then poked its nose into the air, decidedly disinterested. Bored to hell, the manager reached under the counter and produced a small plastic figurine of a certain shark-faced villain, waving it in the cat's face. The cat froze and stared.

“Give me that,” it said, reaching for it with a paw. The manager jerked it out of reach.

“Nuh-uh,” he said. “These are for paying customers.”

The cat's eyes narrowed. “Give me that.”

The manager cocked his head, noticing the cat's bizarrely long legs and neck. “You're an odd one, aren't you?”

The cat hissed. “My name is Felus, not kitty. And I'm not an odd one, I'm the cat god.”

The manager clicked his tongue. “Regardless of who you are, you can't get one of these until you purchase a meal.” He tucked the toy back under the counter.

Felus's voice lowered to a whisper. “I swear, I'm going to lay your greedy head over that counter and slide my claws down your lying throat.”

“Violent, are we?” The manager chuckled. “I'd better take a look at that collar and get you home to your owners. It looks like rain.”

Felus stiffened. “I don't have owners, pissmonkey. That's not a collar, it's a watch.” He straightened his back and made a hmmph noise.

“A watch?” The manager gasped. “A watch?” Frantically, he pulled the cardboard box out from under the counter and dumped it on the floor, scattering plastic figures over the linoleum. He spun back to Felus, eyes wide in astonishment, holding up a miniature blue toy with absurdly long legs and neck. Just as his mouth dropped open, the poorly constructed stool snapped and deposited him on the floor.

Felus scowled and jumped lightly onto the man's chest. “I hope you're sorry.”

The manager nodded dumbly, making disgusting wet slapping noises when his mouth opened and closed. Felus sat on the man's stomach. “Now,” he said, “how far is it?”

“What?” said the manager.

“The watch, dummy! Read me the watch!” He slapped the man in the face with a paw.

“I...” said the manager. “I can't see it.”

“God, I can't imagine how any of my brethren get by,” said Felus, turning his back to the man. “Sometimes you humans are so useless.”

The manager swallowed audibly. “It says 354.”

“354 what?” Felus turned and looked him in the eye.

“I don't know!”

The cat's eyes narrowed. “Watch your tone.”

The man began to nod again, making those absurd fish noises, only to see something over Felus's shoulder and suddenly fling himself into a standing position, shoving the cat off disgracefully. Of course, Felus landed gracefully on his feet, disappearing under the counter.

“B-boss!” The manager was standing ridiculously straight. It looked like he might fall over.

His boss sighed. “What have I told you about animals in the store.”

“B-but, but sir! It's, it's...”

“You're fired.”

“Again?” The manager looked astonished.

His boss sighed again. “Of course, we don't have any other applicants, as usual.”

The manager's incredulous look quickly turned to one of glee. “So I can have my job back?”

“For the fifty-first time, yes. I hope this doesn't happen again.”

The manager gave him an ecstatic grin and made an exaggerated salute. “Yes, sir!”

“Now, let's get this cat out of here.” He ducked under the counter and scooped up Felus with one arm. “There you are.”

“Put me down,” said Felus.

The man sighed. “We can't have animals in the store.”

“I'm not an animal.” said Felus. “I'm a god.”

“I don't care.” The man pushed open the door with one hand. “It's a matter of policy, you understand.”

“That man groveled and prayed, and so should you.”

The boss smiled infinitesimally. “All cats are gods in their own minds.” They were walking down a mossy path that was half overgrown with weeds. It obviously hadn't been used in a while.

“You should be begging for mercy, not lying through your teeth.”

“What's your name? I'm Zach.” He almost slipped on a particularly mossy rock.

“Your name will be nothing after I tear out your throat and the crows eat out your eyes.”

Zach's smile grew wider. “Who are your owners? They must be worried.”

“I have no owners. I am a god!”

“Tell you something funny, all the stray cats have been missing from the city for months.”

“What did you say?” Felus squirmed a little.

“Let's have a look at that collar.” He shifted Felus in his arm.

“That's not a collar, pisspot. It's a watch.”

Zach seemed nonplussed. “I see. You're a watcher.”

There was a crack of thunder. “Put me down!” said Felus. “Now!”

Zach struggled to hold him. “Okay! Okay!” He fumbled with the squirming ball of fur and finally untangled himself. One of Felus's claws caught on the skin of his knuckle and a bright red gash appeared. The rain began to pour down. It felt like nails being pounded into his skull.

Zach jogged over to where Felus was huddled underneath a tree. Each step was accompanied by a squish from his already soaked shoes. Felus was equally soaked, his body pressed as close to the tree trunk as possible, ears flattened to his head and eyes wide with fear.

“Hey,” said Zach. “Hey, let's get out of here. I'll take you to the humane society. It's dry there, okay?”

Felus shook his head weakly. “Just.. just tell me what it says.”

“What? What what says?”

“The watch. The watch! Just tell me if we're getting closer!”

“What?”

“Just tell me if the numbers are going down. Just do that for me.”

Zach picked up Felus with two hands and tried his best to shield him from the rain. A stray gust of wind blew the rain straight into his eyes. They were both shivering violently. “Let's get you out of here.” Zach's voice was lost in the wind. He ran, tripping and stumbling down the increasingly wet path.

“Are we getting closer?” Felus shouted. “Tell me we're getting closer.”

Zach shifted Felus a little so he could see his neck. The numbers slid from 386 to 387 to 388.
“Yes. We're getting closer. Just hold on.”

Felus nodded. Twenty minutes later he found himself still curled up in Zach's arm. They were in the city, in the shadow of two towering buildings. The air smelled like piss and human sweat. Felus could see little besides the inside of Zach's jacket, but he glimpsed crushed aluminum cans and paper bags. What am I doing? thought Felus. Letting myself be touched by a human?
He craned his neck and saw Zach whispering something in the ear of another man. The stranger nodded and opened Zach's jacket a little to peer at Felus's neck. Felus hissed. The stranger chuckled.

“He's awake, is he?”

“Zach,” said Felus. “Who is this? What are we doing?”

Zach paused. “He's, uh, telling us the way.”

“Put me down.”

Zach and the stranger met each other's eyes.

“Now!” Felus squirmed.

Zach put Felus down.

“He's just telling us the way.” Zach met Felus's eyes carefully.

“Telling us the way to what?” Felus snarled. “The way to what?”

Zach said nothing.

“What does the watch say? How far are we?”

The stranger looked pointedly at Zach. “Get it together, Aaron.”

“Shut up,” said Zach/Aaron.

“Your name is Aaron? Have you been lying to me the entire time?” said Felus.

“Aaron is my last name.”

“Zach Aaron? Your name is Zach Aaron?” Felus spit. “Tell me what the watch says.”

Zach Aaron put his hands out in front of him, as if to say, calm down. “Listen, he's just telling us the way.

“Don't you lie to me. Don't you fucking lie to me,” Felus said. “Just tell me what the watch says.”

“Man, I saw this thing on the telly,” said the stranger. “Just grab it. It's just a cat.”

“I'm not just a cat. I'm a god. I am. I am a god and you are not going to grab me.” Felus backed up to the wall. “No human may touch me. No human may touch me!”

Zach Aaron stood up and put his arms at his sides. “878. The watch says 878.”

“You lying pisspot.” Felus's eyes narrowed. “I hope you choke on your own greed.”

“Just fucking grab it!” The stranger lunged for Felus with an open hand. He missed. Felus disappeared into the shadows hugging the walls.

“I just wanted to show them that a Watcher had arrived,” called Zach. He looked into the darkness, his eyes unfocused.

“You tell them, then. You tell them that I've arrived. Tell them to lock their doors at night. Tell them to latch their windows and keep their children close.” Felus's voice echoed in the narrow alley. It seemed like it was coming from every direction. “Tell them that their end has come, because I swear, I will bring this filthy city down on their heads. It will crumble. It will burn. You tell them that, Zach Aaron.”

Felus tripped and fell down a hole. He, of course, landed perfectly on his feet.

A black shape coalesced out of the darkness. It had the familiar smell of blood and fur that comes with living on the streets for a lifetime. Felus understood instantly. They bolted down the tunnel, their sides rubbing against the smooth dirt walls. Soon, the tunnel opened up into a sewer, and a dozen more cats joined them, racing silently towards an unknown destination.

Their run was endless. Each time the sewer branched off, a dozen more cats merged into the crowd, Felus always at the head. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he was going the right way. Each tunnel bore its own smell. This one was marked by one gang, that one by another, the third by another. The smells began to merge. The smells of his followers became more diverse, cats from all over the island, every gang and every clique and every family merging into one great swarm of darkness flowing through the sewers.

As abruptly as the tunnels began, they ended. The walls disappeared and Felus found himself in an enormous circular chamber filled with the smell of cats and blood and death. In the center of the chamber was an enormous shrine, circling up from the floor, a mountain of dead birds and rats and balls of yarn. It was littered with Chinese takeout and hot dogs and human body parts. Felus raced to the top. He could see clearly to the walls of the chamber, infinitely far away, where hundreds of tunnels branched off in all directions. Hundreds of cats swarmed out of each of these chambers, and the infinite masses, the writhing, infinite masses of cats bowed and paid homage to their one, true god.

This was his weapon. Not guns or rocketships or magical skateboards. Faith. Faith was all he needed.

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Wow ok, I am really sorry. This post didn't actually take me eight months to write, I'm just a terrible person. Sorry sorry sorry.

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Wow ok, I am really sorry. This post didn't actually take me eight months to write, I'm just a terrible person. Sorry sorry sorry.

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Quite alright Flum. We all seemed to drag the last few months lol.

Reserving a post.

Edit: Havent forgotten, just been abit busy with work.

"Do you have any clue where your trying to go?" Ironjaw snarled as he watched Sal look around with a confused look. The two had been wandering the back allys of the city for over an hour and now cold, stinging rain started to pelt down on the increaseingly frustrated sharkman. "I swear mate, if this is a trick or a set up I will bite off that brainless dome you call a head."

Sal shuddered in a mix of fear and cold. "Why did I agree to this?" he muttered as he knelt down to look at the watch again, which earned him another growl of anger. "I think we finally found it." Sal motioned to a boarded up door afew steps away. "It's the only door we've come to back here so it has to be where we need to go." Deep down, Sal was praying his guts out that it was indeed the right place. His prayers were suddenly interupted by a sudden bang and shower of wood splinters. "GAH!" Sal soon found himself spawled on his ass in a rather big puddle.

Ironjaw smirked as he watched the human fall over himself and into the puddle. "Sorry bout that mate." he said as he shouldered his rifle. "Easiest way to get in." Ironjaw knew that wasn't true of course. He could have just as easily torn the door down thanks to his muscles. As he made his way into the building he called over his shoulder, "Better hurry up and get in here! You've held me up enough as it is and I'm in no mood to watch you sit in a puddle!"

Sal quickly jumped up and followed Ironjaw. "Sorry, sorry. That gun just spooked me is..." Sal found himself trailing off as he looked around. There were racks and racks of weapons and tech that he had never thought could ever exist. "Holy shit." he muttered as he walked over to the nearest rack. "Look at these guns! I bet none of the other Watchers could take you on if you used these on them." Turning towards Ironjaw, Sal noticed him looking at a nearby computer screen. "What's on that?"

Ignoring Sal, Ironjaw scanned over the open files on the screen. Each file gave a brief bio on almost all of the beings, himself included, that the Coach had dragged into his little fight. "Fucking Coach and those fucking kids" Ironjaw cursed. As he read the files he noted something odd. "Hmm, Franz isnt here. Last I knew he wasn't dead yet." Reading more of the files, Ironjaw realized that it was more of a history of the Watchers and who they were working with and against. "Heh," he mused with a small growl-like chuckle, "At least they knew me and Warden hate each other with a passion. Seems the cat isn't all that friendly either. Saves me the hassle of trying to play nice with him. Hmm, the girl in the armor and the dragon dont seem to really care one way or the other. Might be useful..." Ironjaw suddenly found his thoughts cut short as he felt a cold ring press against his head. "So... found some guts huh mate?" He could see Sal holding a small pistol to him from the reflection off the computer.

Sal was growing more nervous with each step towards Ironjaw. As much as the shark scared him, seeing him distracted gave Sal time to think. "Sal, its time to make a name for yourself. Time to show everyone your not just a loser. Take out the Watcher. That show everyone. One shot. He'll never have time to stop you. One shot and everyone will know you as the Watcher killer. You'll be like a god." Sal cocked the hammer of the gun as Ironjaw stood up. "Nothing personal, I just want to make a name for myself as the guy who took out everyone's favorite Watcher." In his haste though, Sal had forgotten one major detail.

Ironjaw spun around, using his tail to knock Sal over. A loud bang was followed by a louder crack as Ironjaw's fist slammed into Sal's chest, breaking a number of his ribs. Kneeling next to the withering human, Ironjaw just shook his head. "Guts but no brains. Saddest human I've come to know." Leaving Sal in his agony, Ironjaw looked over one of the weapon racks. "Hmmm, interesting." Reaching up, he found himself holding a plasma elemental adaptor. As he slid the adaptor into an open slot of his rifle, Ironjaw watched as five icons lit up on the adaptor's screen. "Heheh, I might not like tech all that much but even I'll admit that this will be quite useful." Turning back to Sal, Ironjaw fired a test shot and watched with vile glee as his newest victim burst into flames. "Oh yes, useful indeed. You better count the seconds Warden because tick tock mate.... your time is running out." As Ironjaw left the building he stopped for a moment, then turned and fired another shot back through the door. As he turned back and started to walk away, the plasma bolt struck a rack of grenades, setting them off and creating a large and loud explosion that rocked everything in a three mile radius. With a sinister grin, Ironjaw walked back down the maze of rain soaked allys.

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There hasn't been a post here in a while, but would it be wrong to say I'm still willing to write for this? I had some personal things to iron out, and some ridiculous emotions inside of me to punch.

Sorry about that everyone.

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There hasn't been a post here in a while, but would it be wrong to say I'm still willing to write for this? I had some personal things to iron out, and some ridiculous emotions inside of me to punch.

Sorry about that everyone.

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PLEASE POST HOBBESY! I've been hoping someone would come back. I dont want this to die of inaction.

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Is anyone else still here aside from you? I'll get caught up and make a post, but I was curious as to who is still in.

Also, if someone could tell Agent that I'm mailing their jacket next week I'd appreciate it. I should've done it way sooner, but at least it'll be there when it gets colder now.

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Is anyone else still here aside from you? I'll get caught up and make a post, but I was curious as to who is still in.

Also, if someone could tell Agent that I'm mailing their jacket next week I'd appreciate it. I should've done it way sooner, but at least it'll be there when it gets colder now.

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Good point. I could prob track some of the others down cause I think they're still active else where on the forums. Need to double check on who still has living chars.

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Always here, always active. Was waiting for the likes of Pharms, Squid, and Interrobang. #grandbattle on Esper IRC might be the best place to meet and discuss stuff. So can we do that?