[Episode 218257] [Episode 218257]It wasn’t so much a problem as… annoying—yes, annoying was the right word.
Here he sat in this pathetic prison. Here he sat because of that stupid fucking Peekabu that betrayed him, because that Tamer found a Jenny with a brain cell not dedicated to getting a cock up her ends, because some rich snob apparently wasn’t man enough to deal with his problems on his own and went squealing like a pig to Daddy.
Well, when he got out, that brat would soon become a stuck pig.
But it all came back to that Saotome asshole. It was his van that had… ‘come apart at the seams’. It was his fucking Skunkette that had whined and moaned about covering her owner’s fees. It was that fucking male who took him out with a cheap shot at his weakest moment—he would have taken him down if he hadn’t been busy experiencing that perfect ass of a Skunkette. It was that male that had that brain-wrecked OfficerJenny make a loud enough stink to get Pete Crankcase and his cousin Ralph arrested.
Oh, there was soon to be some major hell to pay.
At least… there would be when they finally got out of that piss-poor prison. Seriously, only three meals a day and no pussy or ass to fuck—at least female; who could live with these conditions?
Looking down at the chess board—not that he or Ralphie had any idea how to play the game properly—the duo sat in the yard, trying not to anger the bigger and more physically developed males in the prison who had no problems with a male asshole as a source of getting off.
“When we gettin’ out?” asked Ralphie, as he moved a horse-head piece. “Yatzee,” he murmured.
“Damn,” sighed Pete. He had his roof-piece cornered. “I got us a good lawyer, Cousin,” he said with a smile. “And we know our ‘friends’ won’t leave us rotting in here for long. They know we’re too good for that.” He knew Team Rocket wouldn’t just abandon him. He had remained loyal, not revealing anything when those damned cops had arrived and arrested him. He had stayed silent, never revealing what he knew, never revealing all that tech currently sitting under his garage. If nothing else, Rocket would see him freed to reacquire their equipment.
Sure, he might have to make a run for it and throw his Cousin to the wolves. But surely the mentally deficient fool would rather his intelligent relative—who took him in and gave him one of the very few jobs he had the brain cells to do—to survive and seek revenge on the pigtailed yokel. He would suffer for this indignity.
He made a mental note to send a thank-you to the Word-A-Day calendar people. Those were some nice images they included with each day as well.
“Checkers,” he said, moving his boob-like piece towards the center of the board. He thought that was the right word. Maybe it was ‘King Me’ for all he knew. Luckily his intelligence-impaired cousin didn’t know the difference.
“What did you call me?”
Slowly, he raised his eyes—not enough to make eye contact with those who had made that sound because it might cause them to want to make some sort of ‘contact’ with him—and scanned the other side of the Yard, spotting a few of the much larger inmate gathered together, looking ready to start a fight. Several of the guards were already on their way over there to break it up. No matter what, a good bit of them would be stuck in Solitary for that. He prepared himself to leave this ‘game’ at any moment and run towards their main cells. With any luck, being sealed into a small room by the shutters would be preferable to an inmate riot.
Better them than him. He most certainly didn’t want to be anywhere near a fight, thank you very much. He’d rather have all his organs and limbs intact when he left this hellhole. First thing I’m gonna do when my friends get me out of here is find that pigtailed Tamer and take a crowbar to the back of his skull like he did me. Ain’t gonna kill him but I want him awake enough to watch me fuck that sweet Skunkette. Thousands Gods, such a sweet ass… definitely want to tap that again with that prick forced to watch. Then I’ll skin that traitorous peeka-bitch alive for what she did.
“Uno,” muttered Ralphie, having moved the tower-piece to the center of the board, looking extremely focused, and not paying any sort of attention to the confrontation across the Yard. If it was something important, his cousin would have told him about it and what they were going to do. Since Pete remained quiet about it, so would he.
Pete nodded sagely, even if he was anything but. His mind was more focused on revenge than the game. The pigtailed boy who had cost him so much would be made to pay.
“You should focus more on the game than that.”
His eyes blinked as he looked at his cousin. That had been his cousin’s voice, yet the eyes staring at him were anything but those belonging to the male he had known woe these many years. “Ralphie?”
The eyes stared back at him, cold and unforgiving, unlike the man Pete had come to know.
“We do not forgive such failures as yours,” said Ralph, his eyes still hard and cold. “All we asked was that you do your job and stay out of sight. Yet you still felt the need to rip off these little shits that used your shop,” said Ralph.
Even to someone like Pete, it was obvious that someone was using Ralphie as a speaker rather than the man himself. “You’re from them, aren’t you?” asked Pete, not wanting to anger his benefactors. If they were angry, they could leave him in the ‘pound me in the ass’ prison. The man’s tone was already angered; even Pete could pick that up. Further enticing the person would not help his situation.
‘Ralphie’ nodded, sneering slightly, the expression foreign on the normally calm man’s face. “You remember our agreement, don’t you Pete?” asked the man. “You gave us what we needed, we paid you to stay under all the radars out there.
“But apparently that wasn’t enough for you,” the figure sighed. “And now you’ve become a danger to us.”
Pete paled quickly. This was bad, very bad! “But we can make it all go away,” he whispered quietly, putting his heart and corrupted soul into trying to avoid the situation his mind feared was fast approaching.
“You’re right,” said the voice calmly, “we can.”
Pete let out a sigh of relief, glad that maybe he would be safe for one more day. “So when do I get out of here?” he asked with excitement.
“Oh, probably today or tomorrow,” the possessed Ralphie said offhandedly.
Pete let out a sigh of relief once again.
That relief changed to shock as he felt a sharp sting in his chest.
Opening his eyes, he stared down, seeing a metal shank protruding from his chest, his cousin’s hand still on it.
“Team Rocket does not tolerate failures or those that fail to obey,” said ‘Ralphie’ with a sneer.
Pete could only open his mouth, trying to spit out some word, trying to snap out of what he prayed was a dream, a nightmare, as he slid over in his seat, the shank staying in Ralphie’s hand, blood pouring from the open wound.
Ralphie stood up, shank in hand, his sneer slowly fading, being replaced by a sense of confusion. “Huh? Game over?” he asked.
Then a strange though ran through his brain, making him spot his now dead cousin on the ground. Why is Pete all red?
Someone hurt Pete.
Who hurt Pete?
The Guards.
Ralphie didn’t think it odd that his own mind was answering his questions, but turned to the assembled guards, who seemed to barely be able to contain the formerly loud inmates from starting a brawl.
And they made George dead too.
Now anyone who knew Ralphie knew George. He thought George was a cute little mouse.
George was actually a mouse-shaped piece of shoe.
Ralphie didn’t comprehend that. All he understood was that his cousin was hurt, someone had hurt his innocent pet, and the people were in front of him.
Screaming in rage, he charged towards the nearest guard, only to be put down from a guard on the wall with a rifle.
And thus the riot began as the second body hit the ground
Taro smiled as the psychic removed her hands from his forehead. Well, it wasn’t the usually bloodlust he sated himself in.
Nah, the psychics were using his bloodlust to fan the flames of hatred in the inmates, making the riot possible. So in a way, his bloodlust was being sated, even if it wasn’t by his own hands.
But the look on Crankcase’s face when his dear dimwitted cousin shoved that shank into his guts… The simple way said cousin charged a guard who he believed had killed Pete, while covered in his cousin’s blood and holding the murder weapon no less…
It was moments like this where he didn’t mind the psychics so much.
Well, that and they all had some great asses on them.
Standing up, he made his way to the front of the RV, the windows currently displaying an old man looking at a map to the rest of the world. If anyone noticed them, it would appear the RV belonged to a guy just trying to find his way to his destination. The last thing Rocket wanted was to be spotted.
And the last thing their agents wanted was to give their bosses a reason to Love Ball them.
Touching a few buttons, the video screen in the console popped up, revealing the image of Gendo Giovanni, partially obscured in the darkness around him. Dramatic little fucker, ain’t he, Taro mused to himself without fear. The psychics after all were busy making certain there was no trail to arouse suspicion. As far as the world was to know: Crankcase was killed by his crazy inbred cousin during a prison riot before a guard spotted him ‘in time’ to put the bastard down with a round to the head, before he could stab a nearby guard.
“Well?” asked Gendo.
“Done,” sneered Taro.
The man didn’t even nod, eyes closing for a second the only sign that the image wasn’t just a picture. “Return to your post.” With that, the screen went blank.
Taro growled slightly, tempted to smash the console and the video screen. That was it? It wasn’t like he expected a thank you or anything. But he wanted Saotome!
“Looks like you get to live a few more days, you pigtailed fucker,” he spat as he started up the engine, the image on the windows mirroring his movements, making it appear the old man finally knew where to go.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and those fuckers they sent to deal with Pete’s garage will fuck up. If they did, Gendo would need to send someone to clean up the new mess.
And Pantyhose Taro planned to be that someone.
No one noticed the RV pulling away as the alarms sounded within the prison, the riot now out of control without the psychics to direct it.
“Oh shit,” muttered Alice, looking out from the dirty window, spotting a group—pokégirls and males wearing identical and very familiar uniforms—break through the electrified gate.
Asrial fought back a growl as she spotted them. Sure, she didn’t recognize any of them as the group that had attacked her, Jeremy, and Ichi in the woods. But they were close enough. And she did so want to test out her power armor…
“Fire-types,” murmured Alice, as she watched the Rocket grunts release a few more pokégirls. “And those are some pretty touch looking psychics,” she replied. Even without them attacking, she could feel their energies from inside the garage. “Alpha, I really don’t think you want to test your armor against them.”
“Oh?” asked Asrial, her eyes cold. “Why not?”
Instead of replying with words, the reply came in the sound of the squeal of metal as the doors warped, window shuttered closed, and several terminals in the walls exploded in a shower of sparks.
“This is just a hunch, mind you,” said Cyan, holding a flashlight, illuminating the dark garage now sealed off from the outside. “But I don’t think they’ll let any of us out of here alive.”
“The garage is sealed,” the psychic pokégirls replied as one. “Those inside cannot escape.”
“Perfect,” said the Rocket grunt. “How much do they know?”
“They have found the equipment, used it, plan to expose it,” the trio of psychics responded.
Another of the Rocket grunts developed a maniacal gleam in his eyes, as he turned towards the released Fire-types. “Burn ‘em all,” he said with utter glee.
The Phoenix, Magmammary, and Vesta nodded, their bodies glowing as their fire talents surfaced. The Phoenix took to the air as the trio marched towards the garage, mission at hand.
Scorched earth.
“Team Rocket!” eeped Kiiro, looking about the darkened garage nervously. She never met them—Pete had been very meticulous about keeping his pokégirls from knowing that dark area of his dealings, as given by the discovery of the hidden store house—but Tamers who brought their vehicles in for repair were always trading tales about meeting the group. The way they explained it, the group was the human-equivalent of a Widow.
“Damn it,” muttered Asrial, trying to smash open one of the doors. “Crankcase at least sprung for some armor, I’ll give the raping bastard that.”
“If the town is attacked by ferals with issues, wouldn’t you rather have something more between them and you than a few cinder blocks?” asked Alice, face tight with concentration. “Damn it, I can’t even use Teleport.”
“Not surprising,” said Cyan, having been the only one in the group to have ever had to deal with Team Rocket—and win—before. “My first Tamer had a few run-ins with them. After those psychics sealed us in, they probably started putting out enough interference to mess up any abilities you have, Alice. Those fire-types are probably going to bring this place on our heads.
“I hope the AC works on the RV,” she replied with a heavy sigh. “It’s going to get very hot in here.”
Asrial growled out, kicking the armored door. She couldn’t use her armor then, as it would leave the pokégirls unarmed. And being that right now only she and Kiiro knew enough about the modifications to the RV, let alone the add-ons, they wouldn’t be able to use it to offer much of a defense.
No, they would have to use the RV to make their escape. As much as she wanted nothing more than to put on her armor, charge out there, crack open a lot of heads to discover what had been done to her friends, she would not abandon these girls. “Kiiro?”
“Yes, Alpha Asrial?”
“When they did their thing, did they damage the RV?” she asked.
Blinking, the electric-type ran to the engine block. Sure enough, despite the power being out, the diagnostic computer was still going strong. “Yes, Alpha Asrial!” Kiiro screamed in joy. “But the readout says we still have a few minutes before the diagnostic is complete.”
“Just great,” she muttered. The specifications said it would all work, but it was foolhardy to take out a vehicle without knowing that everything was hooked up right. Would circuit boards handle their loads, would physical parts sustain the needed wear and tear? Hell, she had been planning to use the same diagnostic scanners on her armor to ensure she wouldn’t end up falling a few thousand feet to a grisly and painful death because a circuit for her anti-gravity boots misfired or failed during flight.
Worst case with the RV was an elemental shell misfiring and taking out the weapon pod while denting the outer-armor and perhaps sending them spinning end over end into a deep lake. Wow, that totally did not make me feel better. “Everyone in to the RV and buckle up!” she yelled, her nose detecting a faint whiff of smoke now in the air. But seeing no sign of flames, the garage now too filled with darkness to allow her to see the source, she had no idea where it was coming from.
“You have a plan, Alpha?” asked Alice, not letting her fear get to her. There was a time for play and a time to kick ass, so for the moment she would cease her efforts to tease the alien Alpha.
Asrial nodded. “We’ll just see how these walls like Mr. BFG 9000,” she said. “MWA HAHAHAHAHAHA—OUCH!”
“Sorry, Alpha,” smirked Alice as she walked past the skunk-girl who was now rubbing her bottom. “You really shouldn’t do stuff like that unless you want me to pinch that sexy ass of yours.”
“Right,” snorted Asrial. “Just what doesn’t make you go after my ass?”
“Hmm, good point.”
“Blasting through the wall, huh?” sneered a blond Rocket grunt. “My, this’ll be fun.”
“Quit dragging this out, Tom,” snorted the redhead grunt. “We should have melted this place into slag and left by now.”
Tom paused, turning slightly, his eyes cold as he glared at the redhead. “Are you giving me orders, Dick?” he asked without emotion.
“Drop this bullshit,” growled the last grunt with black hair. “Play your fucked up games later, Tom. You may scare us a bit, but a pissed off Pantyhose scares me a hell of a lot more! And you all know just as well as I do what he’ll do to us if we fail, especially if we fail because you wanted to play.”
Tom glared at the man, his face contorting into a twisted mockery of joy and rage, showing that he couldn’t care less. To the others, they began to wonder if perhaps it was past time for Rocket to do some mental evaluations on their troops if psychos like that were allowed in. “Fine then, Harry.
“When they blast open the wall and drive out, I want the psychics to immobilize the car as the Magmammary burns it with everything she’s got. I want to hear their screams as they’re cooked alive.”
The other two shivered as the psychic pokégirls moved in front of the hole, the Magmammary several feet ahead of them, kneeled slightly to give the others the best possible line-of-sight to capture the fleeing girls in.
“We sure they are coming out here?” asked Harry, trying to push aside his growing fear of Tom.
“Yes,” came the chorused reply once more. “She plans to fire at this point, destroying the wall and immediately drive out. The blast is not expected to be any stronger for fear of bringing the building down on them.”
“It’ll be a blast, all right,” Tom cackled madly.
“Are you sure this will work?” asked Cyan.
“For the last time, yes,” sighed Asrial, the girls now safely inside the RV, the BFG Weapon Pod activated. On top of the RV, a panel slid aside, allowing the gun to seem to appear from nowhere, directly in the middle. “Right now, we simply don’t have the raw power to do more than blast that wall apart, not since I’m putting all I can into the rear thrusters to give us a quicker take off velocity, hopefully enough to get as far away from these pricks as possible.” And then I can armor-up and come back for them without worrying about you.
Noticing a flashing indicator, she turned. “Kiiro, go check the back circuit junction box. Something’s interfering in the power transfer conduits.”
“Yes, Alpha Asrial!” shouted the Peekabu, snapping off a salute, and heading towards the back of the RV.
“Okay, wanna try that again in English?” asked Cyan.
“Some circuits that feed power into the weapons array,” Asrial replied, the front windows changing into a HUD, targeting arrows forming on the section of wall she intended to blast open. “This was why we were doing the diagnostics: to ensure the current configuration of the power conduits could handle the extra energy I dragged out of these engines.” Maybe when I get some more materials, I can replace the whole system with a plasma-based power network fueled by a mini-fusion chamber…
Kiiro winced seeing smoke appear from behind a panel. Grabbing a nearby extinguisher, she sprayed the panel lightly; glad to see that the cold frost formed on it didn’t immediately evaporate. Working inside the garage had been a good teacher about how to approach possible fires. The lack of evaporation meant it wasn’t a fire but something probably fried. Being unafraid of possible electrocution—she was an electric-type after all—she popped open the panel.
Seeing the damage, she could only wince.
A cable that carried to voltage from the main power conduit into the weapon’s system was simply gone. “Bad former Master, always getting substandard shit,” she growled. Without that connection, the weapons weren’t going to get enough power to do anything.
And no power meant they’d be burned alive by Team Rocket.
Looking around, she tried to spot something, anything, that she could use to bridge the gap between the two exposed leads. But what little that was lying about wouldn’t be able to either carry the charge or not melt when they needed it.
Blinking, she snapped her fingers. “Silly pokégirl,” she smiled, as she leaned forward and grabbed the leads.
She was an Electric-type after all. And the space between the twin electric pouches in her cheeks would just be close enough.
“Great job, Kiiro!” shouted Asrial, as she saw the readings max out for the power available.
“Now then, prepare for a nice example of what happens when you piss off a Salusian of Imperial Birth!” she shouted, as she switched off the safeties and discharged the BFG 9000.
As the three psychics and the Magmammary prepared to carry out Tom’s plan, a few flaws could have been predicted.
One was that even if it was just a normal blast, nothing had been set up between the wall and the Rocket pokégirls to keep shrapnel from the armored wall from striking them after the explosion.
It wasn’t like the man cared if the girls were injured. He just wanted overpowering odds that at least one would be alert enough to immobilize the RV. And the Magmammary wouldn’t be hurt by bits and pieces of metal, being she was already one genetically modified tough bitch.
Two was that the psychics were only scanning Asrial’s mind—apparently Salusians of Imperial Birth had a low resistance to psychics. So they would know her plans and what she expected.
Therefore, they would fail to know that a certain Electric-type had run current through her own body. Not that it would have mattered, as Kiiro had no idea that her own body’s natural current was being added to the power being sent to the weapon.
All this added together to a few things.
The first was that the blast—while confined as Asrial had hoped—was much stronger than she would have ever thought possible. So it didn’t just blow open the armored wall for their escape attempt.
It vaporized it.
And then it continued on, striking the shocked Magmammary and beyond, taking the stunned psychics by surprise, and like the Magmammary and the armored wall, quickly reducing them to plasma.
The girls stared in shock, the outer wall now alight with flames as the superheated plasma had done enough damage to do such. The explosion and power had been such a shock, Asrial had forgotten to activate the boosters and dart out of there.
Blinking, Cyan cast a look at the back compartment, finding the Peekabu on her knees, two wires making contact with her electric pouches. “Well… certainly didn’t see that coming.”
“Neither did they,” smirked Alice, the ‘psychic’ fog dissipating rapidly. “Dear Alpha, I do believe you just wasted the psychics… and probably one of the fire-bitches as well.”
“…Damn,” muttered Asrial. “I’m good.”
“Um… Alpha, should we not get the fuck out of here?” asked Alice, as Cyan returned to the front of the RV.
“Oh, right,” said Asrial, as she floored it, her fingers flipping a switch to activate the rear thrusters for added power.
The RV took off like a literally bat out of hell, exploding from the hole as their speed caused a backlash of wind, making it seem like the flames from their attack were chasing after them.
With a roar, the RV charged into the outside, brakes screeching and dirt flying as Asrial made a steep turn to the right, trying to keep from impacting the end of the trail of plasma, a ditch leading to a pit easily ten-twelve feet deep. Their very weapon of escape had resulted in a path they could not travel—not unless the RV could take flight.
Sadly, Asrial was missing a few pieces to install a functional HCS, (Hover Conversion System). And while the RV would survive slamming into a mound of flash-fried dirt, it would leave them stuck and thus open to attack from any surviving Rocket members and their pokégirls.
Sights now turned as she tried to force her escape, she spotted a surprised Rocket grunt, a dark-haired man turning as the RV barreled down upon him, thrusts cut off as to give her more time to maneuver. Asrial may have wanted to gut them all, but she also wanted her harem-sisters to survive.
Smirking, she activated a second weapons pod, the first sliding closed as she felt the need for a second shot from the BFG would be unlikely.
And… she wanted prisoners that could talk, that could sing quickly the hidden locations of Jeremy… and probably Ichi as well. She wanted answers damn it! And she’d pluck their fingers off to get them. But since dead men told no tales, she used the non-lethal ordinance.
A weapons pod on the passenger side activated, emerging and then firing off three Bolo whips towards their target, as Asrial swerved once again to avoid running over what she hoped would be a very talkative prisoner.
Had she remained focused on him, she would have seen the three Bolos strike. The first one wrapped around his legs at the knees, tripping him up. The second wrapped around his waist, binding his hands to his sides—and the twin weights conveniently meeting the end of their ropes and thus striking him in his crotch… hard.
But it was the third one that proved once again the systems were not fully working correctly. The third was meant to strike near the top of his chest, further binding his arms to his body to prevent escape.
Instead, as he pitched forward from his tripped legs and the strike to his reproductive organs made him pitch forward, causing the actually landing point to be the neck. And had it not been the result of choking from the cord wrapped around his neck, it would have been finished when the weights slammed into his throat, crushing his larynx.
Harry would not be Asrial’s shining hope.
As she banked once more, none of the group noticed Alice slamming into the side—Cyan having quickly taken the front passenger seat with her Cheetit speed. Nor would she notice at the moment that what she had landed against was a set of emergency functions for the RV should they ever be needed—Asrial was if nothing but prepared by her former life to always expect a need for rescue materials.
And since Alice was focused on trying to not be injured by Asrial’s evasive driving, she wouldn’t notice that the panel had not been locked down as it should have been, and that she had activated one such emergency function.
She didn’t have a name. No pokégirl did when used by the higher echelon within Team Rocket. The psychic pokégirls had never had a name from the moment they were ‘procured’ by Team Rocket. Some of the lower-level members might still have named pokégirls, but not the upper members.
Why name a disposable tool, after all.
And like any tools, as long as they did the job required of them, they weren’t tossed aside.
She had already launched several Flamethrower attacks, narrowly missing the back of the van, but leaving several paths of scorched earth in their wake. She could already smell the smoke from the burning garage, her attacks much better suited for a cluttered roof filled with empty take-out cartons.
There was no rage for fallen comrades, no desire for vengeance. She had never personally known any of the psychic pokégirls, let alone the dead Magmammary. She didn’t even care for any of the males running about the field. Those were attachment, such things were not allowed in pokégirls, let alone the upper echelon. They were ‘educated’ out of any involved.
She only existed for her mission. And at the moment, that mission was to burn those within the RV, to destroy the garage and leave no possible witnesses. She was a cold, calculating machine with one purpose.
That still didn’t silence her surprise when a small pod opened on the RV, a tube directed skyward, and a flare launched towards her.
Now a flare would normally be little trouble for a flying pokégirl, let alone one that was a Fire-type.
Of course, it didn’t help that said flare was set to be capable of being launched a minimum of ten thousand feet for better visibility. So it had more than enough force that when it struck the Phoenix to impale itself into her guts.
Oddly not enough force however to push itself out the other side, instead striking and lodging against her spine, sending the pokégirl into an uncontrolled spin higher into the sky.
And in so much pain, pain that overcame her ‘training’, she could do nothing as the timer inside the small flare reached zero and exploded.
“Rain? Now?” asked Asrial, as a red mist began to form on the front window of the RV. “And why is it red?”
“Never mind,” said Cyan quickly, her nose sniffing… burnt poultry?
“Let’s just say we have one less Fire-type to worry about,” Alice mentioned cryptically. I wonder if any large chunks survived? Some say a Phoenix is quite a dish for a cat-type… “I say we deal with the two humans and remaining Fire-type before—”
THUMP-THUMP!
“Well… we should probably just deal with the humans now,” the Shadowcat finished, as the front window finally cleared enough to see before them. It would probably be better not to mention that the Alpha had just ‘accidentally’ run over the last ‘known’ active pokégirl of their enemies. The Alpha didn’t seem like someone who would be happy to know that.
Well, that or she’d slip further into the ‘scary as hell’ Alpha mindset she had been showing since working on the RV. Either way, it wouldn’t end well for them all.
Alpha Asrial was really scary like that, almost as scary as Master suddenly developing Erectile Dysfunction. And like that condition, she hoped ‘that’ side of the Alpha ever woke up in the Taming Bed.
The rear of the RV swerved from a loud impact. “What the hell?” yelled Cyan.
The HUD lit up, showing the back rear armor on the passenger side, registering an impact.
“Bastards apparently kept some guns for themselves!” yelled Alice, not needing her psychic powers to spot the blond Rocket grunt across the grounds, a weapon exactly like the one they had seen in the basement yesterday in his hands, being reloaded. Spotting the blond taking aim once again, Asrial turned sharply, tilting the driver’s side towards the man, for a moment bringing the vehicle up onto only one side of wheels.
The HUD registered the strike almost as soon as they felt it, the RV being slammed back down to having all of it’s tired on the ground.
“I may not be a scientist, but I can read,” said Cyan. “We can’t take too many more of those hits!”
“I know,” snarled Asrial. Striking two more buttons on the console, the HUD changed, green lines forming on it as a hissing sound sprung up from the back. “Smoke screen plus Virtual Display equals them just as likely to trip up as hit us!”
Alice whistled for a moment. “Alpha, I almost fear what items you’ll build into those toys you promised us.”
“Doesn’t mean we don’t want them,” quickly added Cyan. Thousand Gods knew the skunk girl would try and latch upon any excuse not to make those items.
“Yeah, yeah,” murmured Asrial, more focused on trying to either lose the two remaining Rocket Grunts—assuming they were all that remained and more weren’t hiding out of range of the HUD sensors. Luckily, it appeared the group had only arrived with a small force for a specific task. Add to that the fact their two shots hadn’t truly disabled their sensors, they still had a chance. The RV wasn’t the loudest thing around, not even after Asrial’s additions. With the smoke screen, the two remaining Rocket Grunts would only have a limited chance of actually striking them.
This was proven as the HUD registered a strike fifteen feet to their right, obliterating a parts shed Crankcase had used.
“What about the other weapons?” asked Alice. “I thought you armed this to the teeth?”
“I gave it teeth to fight big threats,” replied Asrial. “This thing is made for big problems. Walls, swarms, natural disasters: it can handle.
“Small things like two assholes with powerful guns; not so much. That was more of a ‘arm yourself and go ‘Rambo’ on them’ ideology.” Hitting another button, Alice stepped back as the middle of the floor opened, revealing a new pod. The pod rose into the cabin, revealing an armory rack, several types of elemental rifles and hand guns were present, as well as their shells.
“Holy Megami-sama shit!” gasped Cyan.
“What all didn’t you put in here?” asked Alice, also in shock, as the pod retracted into the floor.
“I still need to find a dispenser area for the birth control pills, condoms, and tampons,” Asrial added with a blush, the mood at the moment making her blurt out things she’d normally be too embarrassed to admit.
Tom finished reloading his shells into his weapon, smiling madly. Oh, this was turning out to be such an enjoyable hunt. He was covered in the blood of the worthless bird—such a beautiful sight, her death was—and that ass Harry was dead.
Oh sure, the limited number of pokégirls that had assigned to them for this mission were all dead, it was now down to him and that dick, Dick; armed only with their elemental rifles.
And after he took out those bitches in the RV, he was certain Dick would be having a small ‘accident’ as well.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are?” he sang, looking for a source of sound to fire upon. It didn’t matter if it was the RV or Dick; the same fate awaited them in the end.
But once again, Tom made several mistakes. His biggest mistake at the moment was not knowing his position among his surroundings. As such, when he heard the close sound of the RV’s engine, he turned and fired.
He winced as bits of the armored wall from Pete’s Garage struck his skin. Had he been more alert about the battlefield and not so focused on the blood and gore it offered, he would have noticed two things.
He was close to the wall of the garage.
Sound could echo off a wall.
He didn’t have time to curse anyone or anything before the real source of the sound struck him, physically launching him into a pile of broken RV parts, namely long metal hollow tubes.
The last bit of blood he got to enjoy was what spilled out from his impaled chest.
See Dick.
See Dick get splattered with blood from his nearby teammate.
See Dick decide winning wasn’t going to happen here.
See Dick turn and run. Run, Dick, run!
See Dick also fail to realize where he was in relation to the battlefield.
See fence.
See fence resume being charged now that the psychics were no longer around to suppress it.
See Dick discover that.
See Dick fry.
Fry, Dick, fry!
“Okay… I think I might be sick,” muttered Cyan as she watched the virtual display of the last Rocket grunt meeting a shocking end.
“Look at it this way,” offered Alice, “now the asses can’t buy their way out of a trial.”
“They would have bought their way out of justice?” asked Asrial.
“Nah, they would have been Love Balled,” Alice waved off, as she looked on. “The big fish are never brought up for trial.”
“You may want to power down the weapons system,” added Cyan. “Otherwise our tasty morsel in the back will keep those wires to her face.”
“WHAT?” asked Asrial, quickly powering down the weapons systems. “Kiiro?” she shouted.
“Yes, Alpha Asrial?” came from the back.
“Are you okay?” she asked, trying to rush into the back to check on the girl.
“Of course, Alpha Asrial,” replied Kiiro. “I’m sorry Alpha Asrial, but we need a new component for the system, unless you want me to keep working as a conductor.”
Asrial looked at the scene before her: Kiiro near the open panel, holding the two leads to her electric pouches.
“Well,” muttered Asrial, “I guess that explains where the BFG got the extra power from.”
“Did I do wrong?” asked Kiiro sadly.
“I’d say you did a pretty damned good job,” offered Alice with a smile.
“Perhaps we should put this off until we check for damage or perhaps get out of here,” suggested Cyan. “I doubt our battle didn’t attract some attention. And while the local law might be gentle with us, they may ask some questions we’d rather not answer.
“This is the Pewtit Police Force!” came an enhanced yell. “Exit the vehicle now!”
“…Fuck,” muttered Cyan, palming her face.
“Just like the law,” muttered Alice. “Showing up after everything is said and done.”
Shaking her head, Asrial made her way to the door to the outside, hoping the smoke screen had cleared enough to see what was going on—and so no trigger-happy officers might decided to scream ‘She’s coming right for us!’ and end her life.
As Asrial got out of the RV, she looked around at the result of their battle.
The resulting fire from Kiiro’s enhanced shot had finished adding itself to the fire pokégirls’ attack and the stray shot from the Rocket Grunt, leaving Pete’s Garage now in a smoldering heap, the flames dancing towards the sky. That said nothing about the ditch extending outward from their escape.
The RV was covered with blood—even she wasn’t sure how they’d done that for the moment.
One Rocket grunt laid dead, electrocuted by the fence they thought they had disabled, but had lived long enough without the psychics suppressing it.
One Rocket grunt lay dead, smashed into a pile of poles and impaled, likely initially struck by the RV when she was making evasion maneuvers to avoid their Elemental Guns.
One… something, likely the last missing Fire-type—assuming the one not accidentally vaporized by her was it or had disappeared when the mist came—smashed into the ground, tire marks over the dead body.
And one final Rocket grunt, strangled to death by her Bolo Weapons.
Before her now was Officer Jolie, more OfficerJennys arriving behind her. To their left, was Ranma, carrying the nude form of Cassandra—he himself missing his top and only wearing boxers.
“Well… shit,” she sighed. This wasn’t going to end well.
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(Posted Sat, 04 Apr 2009 07:22)
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