Shegomania, Interlude : A Dearth of Goths AKA Strangelove of a Dirty Bomb (season 1)
09-25-2012, 12:00 AM
09-25-2012, 12:00 AM
“Found the Space Cray.” Van Loan held an outré steak--it was jade with alarmingly regular bands of hot-pink marbling--to his right eye.
Shego looked up from the game of strip poker she was playing with Twenty, the WMP (Weapon of Mass Pacifism) She was down her gloves ; Twenty had released the locks on maintenance-hatch Alpha.
“Violently.” She placed her cards face-up on the baize table. “I got two pair : Jacks & Tens.”
The bomb flashed its red receptor cell in a wink analogue while the delicate mantis mechanism of the Primary Fusing Waldo elegantly displayed Twenty’s hand.
“Three Jacks means I get to see your feet!”
“Ja, they do.” The virtual lens slid across the jet surface of the casing to pay careful attention to the removal of the boots, one black and one green. At the sight of naked, wiggling toes, the disc widened ; the voice, Douglas Rain’s, sounded calmly startled, albeit not unpleasantly. “No socks?”
Van Loan’s jaw dropped and nearly unhinged as his non-steak plastered eye’s data processed through the ‘TMI’ centre of his frontal-cortex. “Are you turning my bomb on?
“Go’s so boring it’s not even a game!”
“Consider this : Twenty’s consciousness is wedded to his charge ; and he’ll never go off , at least not in anger.”
“So, you’re saying...” Shego’s expression indicated that she had, once again, experienced the transitory lesson attached as fallout of her ‘Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time’ life methodology.
“Premature detonation, darling.”
Shego rebooted; in a hurry. Twenty sounded faintly piqued. “I’m right here, you know!”
“Yes, you are!” Van Loan sounded positively manly. Wandblume secretly thrilled to see this side of her beau, so long as it wasn’t too common an experience. “I didn’t realize it until now! You not an angry bomb but you sure are a dirty one!” He wagged a furious index finger just above the bomb’s rapidly shrinking crimson ring. “ There’s exactly one bombshell in my life : You! Are! Not! It! Now, behave or I’ll Geppetto you into a real bomb and explode you for the sheer pleasure of blasting you to Ordnance Hell!”
Twenty wasn’t an implosion bomb, but he sure did a convincing job of shrinking. “ I’ll be the best behaved bomb of all time, boss! I swear!”
Van Loan’s disposition changed so quickly that it was dizzying. He laughed. “Only ‘till after I figure out how to dissociate your meta-id from your exothermic payload. Then, with that one notable exception just mentioned, you’ll have my blessings to blitz to your processor’s content!” By the end of this happier speech he had wrapped an arm supportingly about the cold curved surface of Twenty’s casing.
Shego lounged amorally on the den’s daybed as she took in the show. This was choice Drakken-dramatics. She was looking forward to what he would send her way. It was part of what made their relationship so damn fun.
Twenty’s ‘eye’ became disturbingly dewy. With his eerily calm yet somehow emotion laden synthesized voice he--Van Loan had actually stopped thinking of it as a mere machine about the time that he learnt about Twenty’s foot fetish : things didn’t obsess about other things!--enthused, “ You’re the best boss a bomb could have!”
“And you’re the best bomb!” He patted the Gadget ; secured the open panel. “Now, scurry along and charge your capacitors or something.” The tripod harness carried Twenty out of the room with Martian mechanics.
From her languid perch, Shego applauded her man. “I’ve seen bombs defused, but I’ve never seen a sex-bomb defused! I especially liked Ordnance Hell : it’s really twenty first century Danté!”
Van Loan removed the unwholesome looking meat from his shiner ; tossed it into a spark-plug shaped device ; fixed her with a grin of happy vexation. “Do you know why we’re a couple?”
Behind him, a blue-white flash and sizzle sent the pseudo-meat somewhere yet to be determined by science.
She smirked. “You’re Masters to my Johnson?”
The grin widened. “Why we’re really a couple?”
“There’s more to it than mind-blowing, awesome, transcendent sex?” She knew it ; Van Loan knew it : they unpacked it at times, usually in oddly dramatic ways, to marvel at what they shared. It was a ritual of theirs. He swept her up in an embrace, his face inches from hers.
“You make me bonkers, babe!”
“And you drive me bananas, beau!”
They smooched a brief smooch, breaking to breath after only a minute and twenty seconds.
Just a tad breathlessly, Van Loan picked up the deck of cards ; announced. “Game on : House rules apply.”
Wandblume, also a trifle blown, grinned in anticipation. “House rules?”
“The game is...Quantum Ten-Card Peel. Before we can start, we’re going to need at least five more....”
***
Shego flashed a mako-smile at Drakken from over the top of her giant fan of cards.
“Prepare to hand in your Haines!” She threw the cards down, dramatically. “Octo-Aces!” Sure enough, eight aces seemingly owned the table.
Drakken responded with a Great Blue Shark. “It’s not my debriefing, sugarcakes, it’s yours! Quantum Singularity!” His hand, a ten card straight-flush, was the Zeus-Brahma-Odin suit : it reigned supreme in the newest card game, game, Quantum Peel.
Shego improvised a rule. “Oh, dual-dress penalty for overconfidence!”
“I like that rule : House accepts addendum to Quantum Peel rule set!”
Shego slipped one carmine--the colour worked well against her virescent skin--bra strap off of a shapely shoulder.
“Prepare to receive my report in detail!”
Shego looked up from the game of strip poker she was playing with Twenty, the WMP (Weapon of Mass Pacifism) She was down her gloves ; Twenty had released the locks on maintenance-hatch Alpha.
“Violently.” She placed her cards face-up on the baize table. “I got two pair : Jacks & Tens.”
The bomb flashed its red receptor cell in a wink analogue while the delicate mantis mechanism of the Primary Fusing Waldo elegantly displayed Twenty’s hand.
“Three Jacks means I get to see your feet!”
“Ja, they do.” The virtual lens slid across the jet surface of the casing to pay careful attention to the removal of the boots, one black and one green. At the sight of naked, wiggling toes, the disc widened ; the voice, Douglas Rain’s, sounded calmly startled, albeit not unpleasantly. “No socks?”
Van Loan’s jaw dropped and nearly unhinged as his non-steak plastered eye’s data processed through the ‘TMI’ centre of his frontal-cortex. “Are you turning my bomb on?
“Go’s so boring it’s not even a game!”
“Consider this : Twenty’s consciousness is wedded to his charge ; and he’ll never go off , at least not in anger.”
“So, you’re saying...” Shego’s expression indicated that she had, once again, experienced the transitory lesson attached as fallout of her ‘Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time’ life methodology.
“Premature detonation, darling.”
Shego rebooted; in a hurry. Twenty sounded faintly piqued. “I’m right here, you know!”
“Yes, you are!” Van Loan sounded positively manly. Wandblume secretly thrilled to see this side of her beau, so long as it wasn’t too common an experience. “I didn’t realize it until now! You not an angry bomb but you sure are a dirty one!” He wagged a furious index finger just above the bomb’s rapidly shrinking crimson ring. “ There’s exactly one bombshell in my life : You! Are! Not! It! Now, behave or I’ll Geppetto you into a real bomb and explode you for the sheer pleasure of blasting you to Ordnance Hell!”
Twenty wasn’t an implosion bomb, but he sure did a convincing job of shrinking. “ I’ll be the best behaved bomb of all time, boss! I swear!”
Van Loan’s disposition changed so quickly that it was dizzying. He laughed. “Only ‘till after I figure out how to dissociate your meta-id from your exothermic payload. Then, with that one notable exception just mentioned, you’ll have my blessings to blitz to your processor’s content!” By the end of this happier speech he had wrapped an arm supportingly about the cold curved surface of Twenty’s casing.
Shego lounged amorally on the den’s daybed as she took in the show. This was choice Drakken-dramatics. She was looking forward to what he would send her way. It was part of what made their relationship so damn fun.
Twenty’s ‘eye’ became disturbingly dewy. With his eerily calm yet somehow emotion laden synthesized voice he--Van Loan had actually stopped thinking of it as a mere machine about the time that he learnt about Twenty’s foot fetish : things didn’t obsess about other things!--enthused, “ You’re the best boss a bomb could have!”
“And you’re the best bomb!” He patted the Gadget ; secured the open panel. “Now, scurry along and charge your capacitors or something.” The tripod harness carried Twenty out of the room with Martian mechanics.
From her languid perch, Shego applauded her man. “I’ve seen bombs defused, but I’ve never seen a sex-bomb defused! I especially liked Ordnance Hell : it’s really twenty first century Danté!”
Van Loan removed the unwholesome looking meat from his shiner ; tossed it into a spark-plug shaped device ; fixed her with a grin of happy vexation. “Do you know why we’re a couple?”
Behind him, a blue-white flash and sizzle sent the pseudo-meat somewhere yet to be determined by science.
She smirked. “You’re Masters to my Johnson?”
The grin widened. “Why we’re really a couple?”
“There’s more to it than mind-blowing, awesome, transcendent sex?” She knew it ; Van Loan knew it : they unpacked it at times, usually in oddly dramatic ways, to marvel at what they shared. It was a ritual of theirs. He swept her up in an embrace, his face inches from hers.
“You make me bonkers, babe!”
“And you drive me bananas, beau!”
They smooched a brief smooch, breaking to breath after only a minute and twenty seconds.
Just a tad breathlessly, Van Loan picked up the deck of cards ; announced. “Game on : House rules apply.”
Wandblume, also a trifle blown, grinned in anticipation. “House rules?”
“The game is...Quantum Ten-Card Peel. Before we can start, we’re going to need at least five more....”
***
Shego flashed a mako-smile at Drakken from over the top of her giant fan of cards.
“Prepare to hand in your Haines!” She threw the cards down, dramatically. “Octo-Aces!” Sure enough, eight aces seemingly owned the table.
Drakken responded with a Great Blue Shark. “It’s not my debriefing, sugarcakes, it’s yours! Quantum Singularity!” His hand, a ten card straight-flush, was the Zeus-Brahma-Odin suit : it reigned supreme in the newest card game, game, Quantum Peel.
Shego improvised a rule. “Oh, dual-dress penalty for overconfidence!”
“I like that rule : House accepts addendum to Quantum Peel rule set!”
Shego slipped one carmine--the colour worked well against her virescent skin--bra strap off of a shapely shoulder.
“Prepare to receive my report in detail!”