For lack of a better way to occupy my time (and since Devil May Cry 3 is being obstinate) ...
***
Zero no Tenshi: Chop Suey
***
I don't think you trust,
In, my, self righteous suicide,
I, cry, when angels deserve to die,
One: Mahou Shounen Evangelical Katsu ... or something.

"Most people would have tried spinning excuses as to how they'd been unwittingly used as an accessory to a crime," Old Osmond, the Principal of the Academy, said.
"I think we've established that I'm not most people," I was having a hard time not responding with 'gee, ya think, Gandalf?' which I'm not sure he would have appreciated.
His office, in an antithesis of the concept that was 'principal of a magical school', was actually fairly spacious and well organized.
The man himself seemed oddly reasonable, though shrewd ... I'd say I could count myself lucky. I could have been stuck dealing with Mustrum Ridcully.
"I think we could call it even," I went on, blandly. Wouldn't do to make him think that he was negotiating from a position of power. "You and yours knocked me over and dragged me here against my will, I knocked you and yours over and took your stuff. You'll also note that I took care to return it."
"Would you have, if you could have actually used it?" the bespectacled balding guy standing off to the side of the Gandalf-lookalike's desk asked.
Sharp man.
"Yes, but then I'd be on my way _out_ of this backwater world and definitely out of your hair, so the point is moot."
"Well, the Staff of Destruction is a complex instrument that the greatest minds of the country have been puzzled over ..."
"It's a glorified firecracker that can only go off once and has no so called 'magical' power whatsoever," I cut him off. "Very limited amount of uses you can get out of something that's designed go 'boom' and blow other things apart."
That, it seemed, was not what either had expected to hear.
"You mean to say that you actually know how it works?" the disbelief on Glasses' face - I think his name was Cobalt or Colton or something - was plain to see.
"In gross terms. Chemistry. Solid fuel. Impact detonator. The tube you little staff expands into to direct the delivery," alright, so a little simpler, then. "Okay. Think of it like a cannon you can carry around with you."
***
Apparently, Glasses was something of a budding enthusiast where the sciences were concerned.
Colbert - that was his name, by the by - wanted to spend the next several hours digging through my mind for ideas. Not literally, fortunately.
Magic teacher with a fancy for technology ... well, I'd seen odder things in the course of my travels.
He seemed to be able to grasp ideas quickly as well, which I found out a bit later on.
Finally, though, we cut a deal.
The gist of it being that I'd stay on and play 'ideas taster' to Colbert's inner mad scientist, and in exchange would be given means and assistance to research a way back to where I'd come from. To a self professed hack, it seemed like fair trade.
I'd certainly be in a better position to do so in the premier Magical Academy of the continent than I would have been trying to do the same through other, less direct means.
Though part of me was still insisting on just raiding their logs and records to find notes on _some_ sort of potent magical device or item or being, then take off to try and make use of said power ...
... but, for one thing, that sort of approach had worked out _oh_ so well just a brief bit ago, yes?
For another, it would be useful to have an alternative to having to acquire obscene amounts of pure power and/or have a technological basis ready every time I wanted to Cross.
Also ...
... it would be nice to help create something, maybe start off something grand, without the usual destruction ...
... another, quieter part of me, chimed in softly.
In retrospect, that was perhaps the wrong thing to think, as it seems to invite disaster.
But that would come later.
There and then I had other, more immediate things to deal with.
Settling in.
Getting the lay of the land, so to speak.
Finding some food.
Sadly, those would have to wait a bit also. The most immediate one was the one that sought _me_ out.
To sum it up in five words:
"What do you mean, 'familiar'?"
***
END One
***
next up: No bull? You know, at least Takumi was polite. This is legal, how? Oi! Old man! I want some compensation, damnit!
Or simply: getting acquainted.

Tsuzuku!
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm

Dunno if Bob's used this song before but it suddenly occurred to me that this would work well for Doug.
I don't have the lyrics handy but there's a song where the chorus includes the phrase, "I'm working my way back to you babe,". I can't recall the title or artist offhand, but that line describes the Walk fairly well, don't it? 8)__________________
I feel like I'm diagonally parked in a parallel universe.
___________________________
"I've always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific." - George Carlin

Okay, a disclaimer first. This bit currently exists in isolation -- there is no more of this particular story before or after it. I have only the vaguest
"gee, it would be cool if..." intents about putting the GGG crew in this setting. The scene just came to me a couple days ago and insisted on being
written, though, and would not leave me alone. Sadly it's not enough to throw at my prereaders, but I'd like it if someone enjoyed it, so here
it is. Enjoy, but don't ask for more.

Yet.

Peggy's going to be doing an all-day gardening seminar/class/thing at Rutgers tomorrow, starting fairly early in the morning and going on almost to sunset. That means I will likely be playing COH all that time, with a short break to make lunch in the middle.
Just so folks know.
Wide Receiver, if you're around and want to retry that Crey mish in Steel Canyon, I'll be up for it.
-- Bob
---------
...The President is on the line
As ninety-nine crab rangoons go by...

Hi there - long time lurker, first time poster... Not counting my intro...
Aaaanyway, this is the latest evolution of an idea I've had knocking around for at least a couple of years now (prolly longer), although there is very little resemblance to the original concept, much like how each step in the evolution from prehistoric proto-rodent to (say) Bangal Tiger makes sense, but there is only the most fundamental similarity between each end of the proccess....
Where was I?
Oh, yes. Well the original idea was heavily based on the Nexus RPG (If anyone wants to know more about that lemme know & I'll tell all in another topic - prolly over in General Chatter), giving plenty of opportunity for transdimensional fun & crossover hijinks whilst being very slightly less random than DW itself.
One of the things that mutated fastest was who and/or what the main character was. I'm ashamed to say that the inevitable dragon was involved - although I dropped that like a hot potato after reading one of Metroanime's fics. I forget which one now.
The most recent incarnation was inspired by a number of things: The Buffy YAHF "Provocation" - www.grandt.com/XanderZone...ation.html or www.fanfiction.net/s/1752013/1/
As well as www.kitsune.addr.com/Rift..._Demon.htm and www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Temple/2270/ (Look in portfolio/Anime)
Obviously I'm talking about a Marilith (Class V Demon) here.
The final piece was coming across one too many HP fics where some mega-powerful wossname comes down & solves all the problems in one go...
(As a side note - it is fairly critical to most of the concepts that it should be clear that Marilith are not native to, nor usually found anywhere near the HP-verse. At all.)
So: Here's the pitch. (Advance warning - I'm very bad at original names. Any help appreciated.)
Somewhen within cannon HP continuity - not absolutely nailed down yet, but has to be at least OotP-ish: Mouldie needs a body, & the D.E's need to be out & about.
For whatever reason 'Ol Red Eyes decides it'd be a really good idea to summon some sort of snake-demon from this nifty book he 'acquired' - partly to bolster his forces, but largely to replace the ex-basilisk presumably still stinking up the CoS. (Oh yeah... Lucius? Crucio!)
Possible plot point: Where did the book come from? I'll be getting back to that.
So he gathers a bunch of mooks^Hminions^Hlackeys^HDeath Eaters ('Cos they need the extra power for the ritual, obviously...), presumably at Riddle Manor or some other unplottable location, gets the Designated Summoner to do his/her stuff & waits for a new servant - maybe one of those cute snake-women they have in India... What do they call them? Naga?
Oh dear.
This next bit is quite visual and the single bit I have the clearest handle on - now I need to block this out: We have a large room, with a summoning circle in the middle, Death Munchers in a circle around it, the Designated Summoner in a sort of sub-circle on a mystically-significant point, and Voldie just outside - keeping an eye on him.
To a certain extent, the Death Nibblers lucked out here: Instead of a hacked-off Marilith armed to the teeth with Rune Weapons, they get one clad in water, soap-suds and a shower cap and armed with a loofah, sponge and back-brush.
(Some of following subject to revision - you get the gist though. Also not that this is more a description of the sequence of events than the actual story. Think of it as a sort of storyboard.)
After a certain amount of blinking and/or drooling, Tom 'Poster Child for Inbreeding' Riddle tries his luck, and orders the Marilith to kill "That Potter Brat".
She doesn't appear to be listening.
He rants some more, while she experimentally pushes against the boundries of the circle.
He starts waving a wizarding photo of Harry when she raps the boundry firmly in two places with the back of a knuckle - then drives her fist straight through it.
By overpowering the wards, enough energy is released to a) knock most of the D.E.s back a pace or two, and b) cause the Designated Summoner's head to literally explode. Messily. All over Tommy-Boy.
The next bit would be best viewed mostly in Bullet-Time.
Basically, she beelines for the nearest melee weapon (McNair's Axe), relieves him of it, then in a complicate fast move, spins it 'round her torso in a move that could have used as few as one arm and as many as all six, before relieving McNair of his head (and optionally dicing the rest of him). Bonus points for 'accidentally' catching Malfoy Snr. hard enough in the groin with butt during this move to guarantee the Draco will remain an only child, no matter what.
At least one other "Name" D.E. should buy it during this confrontation (Not Bellatrix - she isn't nearly miserable enough yet at this point. Not Pettigrew, either.).
At this point I'd like to take an aside and ponder: What effects would any of the Unforgivables have on a Marilith. I tend to take the view that the best you could hope for would be to irritate it.
So, a few point-blank AKs later, and T.M.R is beginning to worry. At this point she stops, and takes a moment out to disparage the whole ensemble - easy when you're holding a big axe stained with the blood of its previous wielder, and another person is still in the foetal position.
Something like this: "You call yourselves scary? I've had my scales polished by scarier. You try to command ME? A General of Hell's army..." and so on.
Eventually she 'ports out (wards? what wards...)
Now for some behind-the-scenes stuff that I'm still working out how to explain in the text (If I ever do...)
1) IMPORTANT: The Marilith may or may not always have been one. She is either: (1) Some other entity that got turned into one - either individually as in "Provocation" or as part of a wider phenomena as in "Shadowrun"; (2) A genuine Marilith who has mellowed somewhat over time as with Dharka or (3) A genuine, genuinely evil Marilith engaged in a very long-term con-job.
Which is the case will depend slightly on whether I expand with stories in other 'verses, but I'm planning to leave it uncertain.
Also note I plan to have Snape hear all three possibilities (and possibly a couple others). This may just be part of her plan to see how - as at least a double agent - many contradictory concepts he can hold in his head before his brain starts dribbling out his ears...
2) The Marilith is not going to be offing Voldie, much as she would like to. Prophecy, right? Ditto Harry.
She doesn't know the phrasing, but she can 'see' the bonds between well enough to work it out.
3) She isn't leaving the potter-verse, either. A combination of prophecy conditions, the less-than-100%-perfect summoning and Voldemort's desires means that she can't leave the dimension while both are alive (however technical it may be in Tom's case). Both dead would work too.
4) She isn't going to give Tom the time of day, let alone do anything he tells her.
Leading to...
5) The only way she can go home is for either Potter to kill Riddle, Vice-versa or MAD. Since by this time she is utterly narked by Tommy, she is likely to put a bit of effort to make sure that at least Harry manages to off Riddle - even if he doesn't survive.
Therefore...
6) She is going to be putting in fairly minimal effort to try to ensure this happens.
Assuming all the above happened in the summer before OotP, I could see her 'borrowing' Harry for some training, during which she is almost suspiciously nice to him (see origin (1) above), and the Order has collective kittens. No, not literally. Not even Minerva.
Then once term starts, she become "Ms-not-really-appearing-in-this-fic-except-for-a-couple-cameos-until-the-end"
Well... I've gotta include an Umbridge encounter, right?
Actually a Luna encounter could be interesting too, in an entirely different way...
But minor appearences aside, I wouldn't expect to see much of her once term starts except for reference via the latest Prophet/Quibbler (& wouldn't it be fun if the Quibbler was pretty much dead on the money...)
Maybe holidays or the occasional Hogsmeade weekend...
Now going back to an earlier point: Where did that book come from? Could it possibly have been a plant? Who by...?
It should of course also be clear here: Not gonna be a student, DADA teacher or anyone's snuggle-puppy.
For that matter, while she could technically shape-change into a human form & blend in, for the most part she ain't gonna - why should she put up with sore feet just to make them feel better...?

This should end up being four pages. I've done the layout already but the pencils for page 2 didn't quite work out the way I thought they would.

Acyl, I'm sorry for the horrible butchery I've wreaked on Syndesis' costume and hair. I was working off of a couple of poor screen shots from the meeting last Thursday and your Little Legends image.
Should she be wearing a small mask over her eyes? I couldn't tell in Pocket D because of the auras.
On the gripping hand, I'm really happy with her expression in panel 3.
-F "who really should be working on other, half finished things"
--
"Those librarians are a sharp bunch."
- Calvin, _Calvin & Hobbes_

Heya.
Been lurking since... um... whenever it was. (Probably somewhen around DW2 chapter 5 or 6).
Anyway, I've read all of DW2 & 5 so far, not to mention most of the stuff from "Other Peoples' Fanfiction", with the exception of the Naruto stuff - on the ground I haven't seen _any_ of it, so have no feel for the characterisation.
I'm introducing myself for a couple reasons - one of which is it is probably time I de-lurked. The other is so I can get a little feedback on a fanfic plot-bunny I had, which I'll introduce over at OPF assuming I don't get hounded off stage (rotten fruit 'n veg optional).
Outside of that, as my profile says I am English, and may be available for Brit-picking depending on who is asking.
Anyway, that's me.
Sam.

From the Legendary club christening last night, there was mention of the drink mixing skills of Mr. Midnight.
Picture a film that should never be made. A superhero who is debased during the McCartney trials in the states becomes a drunk in Australia, but is called out his stupor to recover the hypno-ray stolen by arch-fiend Mr. Midnight! Yeah. Sounds pretty bad. The Superhero is Alan Arkin. The director is Albert Pyun (the Uwe Bol of his day and any day). Oh and just because the suck knob hasn't been turned up to 10 yet. Make the sucker a muscial.
The film is The Return of Captain Invincible. I own it on VHS and DVD and while I do not say go out and get a copy - I will vouch for it. Why? The villain is none other that the Man, Christopher Lee himself, who sings two songs; while surrounded by his leather'n'skank hench-babes. Remember the old Pat Benetar Video 'Love is a Battlefield'? Well when they walked out on the pimp, they went to work for Mr. Midnight. While most of the music in the film is forgettable at best and horrible at worst. Except for three songs; the good ones. Written by Richard O'Brian. That Richard O'Brian. The creator of the Rocky Horror Picture show.
So picture Christopher Lee in Leather pants, singing a Richard O'Brian song about drinking while his skanky sweethearts shake martinis and themselves in the background.
And thanks to YouTube. You can see it for yourself.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGJci1W0K5Q

Here we go, its own thread.

This is actually in response to [url=http://
http://boards.cityofheroes.com/showflat ... er=6427429http://boards.cityofheroes.com/showflat ... 6427429">a call by Arctic Sun[/url] on the official CoH forums. He's looking (or rather, still looking) for player-submitted stories involving the Praetorians.
Normally I ignore such things, since, y'know, I never expect I'll get in. But...this one actually sparked an idea in my head, and a short idea besides. I figure it'll come in at 2000-3000 words, max. I'll probably finish this in the next couple of days and send it in. I don't believe it'll really get published, but what the heck, enh?
For now, here's the first chunk. Draft, of course, but hey.
Thoughts?
Always Look On The Bright Side
by Superball

Its not easy to laugh when youve got two feet of steel rammed through your gut.
I laughed anyway. Oh, it hurt like hell, I just couldnt show it. So I laughed, instead. The mask hid my face, but I grinned behind it.
Marshalling my strength, I pulled myself free. The blades slid from my flesh, slick with blood, but I didnt have time to grimace. Ignoring my bodys protests, I twisted to the side and smashed an armoured backhand into my attackers face. Metal met bone, and he went down with an agonised yowl.
I settled into a fighting stance, my boots touching down on the bloodstained street. With an effort of will, I kept myself from wincing. I couldnt afford any sign of weakness, not with the pack still circling like rabid lions.
You know, I quipped, you gentlemen are terrible hosts. You treat all tourists this way?
One of my opponents snarled, his mouth showing too many teeth. The others echoed his sentiment.
The odds were bad, very bad. Id beaten a dozen of them, but they just kept coming. They were toying with me, attacking one at a time, wearing me down. And they were tough, insanely tough. They looked like street thugs, but they were more than that. Each of them bore wickedly sharp cybernetic claws, and the bearing to match. Spines arched, hackles raised, looking for all the world like vicious oversized cats.
I grinned again, feigning amusement. It was supposed to be an easy run. In through the portal, a mile to the rendezvous point, then out again. This was supposed to be a deserted sector, an abandoned part of the city. The Praetorians werent supposed to be here in force.
Obviously, Murphy was having a field day.
Look, I said, you guys invade my world all the time. Cant I return the favour? Its only fair, right? Think of it as an exchange program or something
Id already missed my meeting with the local resistanceand my return portal. By now, the folks back home probably knew my mission had failed. But I couldnt count on a rescue party, not right away. I was on my own, and the only card I had left was my razor wit. Unfortunately, its hard to skin a cat on words alone, and the Praetorian troops were an especially tough audience. They werent so much as smiling.
Bah, Philistines. No appreciation for a well-honed stage act.
A blur of motion. I spun, just as another feral soldier pounced. I wasnt fast enough to dodge or block but his claws didnt touch me. They bounced off in a splash of lightning blue, repelled by my protective shield. That cost me, though. I felt the strain on my powers. I couldnt keep it up foreverin fact, Id slipped a moment ago, earning a bloody hole through my gut.
Shifting some energy into my limbs, I launched a counteroffensive. Simple punches and kicks, but with speed and strength boosted by my field. I sent the guy sprawling to the ground, but my victory was short-lived. His friends were already moving, abandoning the bad movie routine. They attacked as a group, screaming the name of their mistress.
BLOOD FOR BOBCAT!
I bit back a curse. Clutching my wound to staunch the bleeding, I threw myself into the air. I didnt have the strength for true flight, but I had just enough for an acrobatic leap. My aura flared as it boosted velocity, adding height and distance in a blaze of blue. Flipping over their heads, I landed on a fifth-floor fire escape, pausing to catch my breath.
Sorry, I apologised, I like catgirls, but Bobby aint my type.
My dance partners werent amused. Like all of Bobcats minions, they were a fanatical bunch, more loyal to her than Tyrant himself. So my little joke didnt exactly get rave reviews. They chased me, and I ran. Jumping off the fire escape, I sped down a narrow alley, running fast as my legs could take me.
But this wasnt a classic cartoon. I wasnt fast enough. Claws slashed across my back, ripping through my costume. I stumbled, fell, and they were on me. One of them tore my mask off, but I didnt give them the satisfaction of seeing my fear. If I was going to die, I planned to go smiling and spitting defiance.
I was also praying for a miracle, but I figured itd take a pretty big one to save my skin.
Heres a tip, boys and girls. Sometimes, prayer works.
And angels come in unlikely forms.
* * *
(NEXT: Superball is rescued, Superball speaks with his rescuers, important poignant thematic point is made, Superball goes home. What? I said it was a short story...)
-- Acyl