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Post by Dr. Akashido on Dec 6, 2010 0:04:23 GMT -5
It was an Empire Strikes Back night in Tokyo. The good-guys got their good butts spanked across the board, all except for Brian Thorn, who's gingerbread replica of himself won the blue ribbon for the sake of Tokyo's rebuilding project. But now tension grows between heroes. With every villain trying to capture the powerful crown for their own evil plan, the heroes are crossed about who should protect it. Should it be Brian Thorn and his mech, who have protected the city of Tokyo since day one? Or should it be the reluctant fighter but King of Monsters, Mebbles? As the plans of darkness unravel, the heroes panic at their posts. Is there unity in their numbers? Or is it every man for themselves? In a week's time, we will know! Deadline December 11th 11:59:59 (midnight)
(tandem tokyo trouble)
Kusko and The Loser Rangers vs Wombat of Doom and SMF Pterodactyl
(tandem tokyo trouble)
Fred and Mebbles vs Chocolate Moose and Ra-Man
(random encounter)
Fearzilla vs Hunter Catfish
(random encounter)
Brian Thorn vs Super SloshThanks again everyone for another week of city-smashing fun. I am really proud we don't just have a bunch of B-Rated monsters who smash with no substance. We actually have a really interesting story going along with the madness and it's really great to be along for the tale. And extra special thanks to Brian Thorn's handler for pitching in with some help with the results. |
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Post by Dr. Akashido on Dec 12, 2010 19:06:58 GMT -5
“Okay, boys, go get them!” Dr. Red shouts, turning on his monitors around his undisclosed laboratory. “Let's go, SMF Pterodactyl and Wombat of Doom! Let's put those stupid rangers and that brain-dead Llama in the ground! Yeah!”
“Wooo!” a strange voice screamed over the radio feed. “Let the party start!”
To the doctor's dismay, when the lights finally clicked on in his monitor screens, he saw a face he did not suspect to see. It was Super Slosh, completely drunk on sake, stumbling around and whacking anything in sight with his Singapore cane. The Ranger's mech, Kusko, and this monsters all laid unconscious from the surprise anslaught.
“You stupid drunk!” the evil doctor shrieked, with no real knowledge whether or not Slosh would receive his message. “What the hell have you done?”
“I like this!” the Sloshman drunkenly hiccups. “I got kicked out a petting zoo for doing this once, but, now that I am like super effing big, I can stay and wrassle all the animals I want!”
“Super Slosh, you fool,” Red replies on deaf ears. “I was going to let your little drinking bender slide because you are just so damn destructive, but you are proving to be just as big of liability as these stupid heroes are! Mock my words, you inbred piece of trailer-park trash, I am going to wipe your stench from the city of Tokyo forever! But, before that, let's check out how Chocolate Moose and Ra-Man is doing with those moronic dragons.”
Dr. Red turns his seat and powers up a different set of monitors and radios.
“How's it going boys?” he asks.
“Durrr. Not so good,” his soupy minion answers.
“Why aren't things going well?” Red shouts, putting his hand against his face. “You know what? Never mind! Put Chocolate Moose on the line! He's not a half-baked nitwit, like you!”
Ra-Man looks over his shoulder and watches his comrade get a double dragon beat-down, minus the 8-bit Nintendo reference.
“Things aren't going well,” Moose yells, between receiving punches and stomps. “Because my ally isn't helping me! He's on the phone!”
“You imbecile!” the evil doctor shouts. “Stop talking you chicken-flavored goon and get in the fight, before I recycle you for the nickle!”
Ra-Man finally does what he was ordered to do, but it was too late. Mebbles and Fred convincingly trounce their foes.
Meanwhile, on the other side of Tokyo....
“Fearzilla, if that's your real name, remember mine,” the newcomer boasts. “I am Hunter Catfish, Dr. Red's personal assassin monster. I know you are wondering how a monster as large as I am can be a stealthy assassin, but, let me tell you, I am just that good. You may also wonder how it is that I am a giant fish and I can walk freely on the ground. Well, again, it's like a Chuck Norris skill: I am so bad-ass, I make my own oxygen to breathe, or however the hell the jokes go. I don't really know. They are really dumb jokes, after all. Who came up with them and who thought every one needed to know them should be stomped into oblivion, and all that is beyond the point. The point is I am one bad monster and I have your sorry name on my list!”
Fearzilla, who was had better evil plans in the works, looked over and noticed the giant yammering goldfish.
“Be gone, fish,” Zilla orders, not taking any of his threats to heart. “I have better things to do than listen to you nonsense all day.”
“Nonsense!” Hunter quickly retorts. “I beg your pardon! I also beg you to come over here and get your head beaten off your shoulders! For I am Hunter Catfish and...”
“A small fish in a big pond...” the fearful one begins to say, planting his seeds of doubt and confusion.
“What?” the assassin questions, wondering how his victim can argue with him.
“And just a fish out of water,” the diabolical Fearzilla continues.
“W-W-What?” Hunter stutters. “No! I am an assassin! I am the best in the world!”
“You're a silly dried-up sardine,” Zilla explains. “Inside a salty aluminum coffin. You are either unbelievably inexperienced or stupid, that much is certain, but I can't make a guess on which one. Maybe both. I am Fearzilla. I am the real McCoy. If there was a real hunter around these parts, it's sure the hell wouldn't be some brainless trout, his victims can smell miles away. Talk to the people of Tokyo. Talk to the heroes. Ask them who the real feared one is. And when you are done introducing yourself, you'll know there is only one master of the shadows in this city and that's me, Fearzilla.”
At this point, Hunter Catfish feels so demoralized that he actually begins to shrink in size. Not because of some fault of his own, but by some mystical power of Fearzilla. He has convinced him he is so insignificant, Catfish has been shriveled into a scared little guppy.
“Please, okay,” the little fish begs. “I get it. I am sorry. You know, the boss: he makes missions and we just have to do them. I didn't want to do this one, but...”
“Enough talk, fish stick,” Big Scary interrupts. “Now get into the can!”
As Hunter cowers away, he trips over a sardine can that really resembles more of a casket than a fishy bed.
“No...” the apologetic assassin pleads. “Anything but that! Anything! I am afraid of... I am claustrophobic!”
“Get in, you!” Zilla shouts, darting forward with a pair of punches that send the fish into his tomb.
“No, please! No!” the fish cries, holding the lid open with all his remaining strength.
“Resistance is futile!”
And, with that, a giant fish comes down on the sardine can lid, locking Fearzilla's opponent inside.
“Now,” Fearzilla says, walking away like nothing too inconvenient or difficult happened. “Where's are those Brian Thorn and Mebbles jerks...”
“Let's keep the part-ay goin'!” Super Slosh cheers, tumbling into a military base. He trips a security laser, which begins to flash giant flood lamps and shrieking sirens. “Wooo! Clubbin'!”
The Sloshman Supreme begins to poorly dance around, moving his hips in ways they were never intended. He puts his kendo stick between his legs and poorly acts likes it's a stripper pole. His raucous romp-around continues until a giant hanger opens.
“Sweet, Be-Jesus, Super Slosh,” Brian Thorn greets, somewhat irritatingly. “It's like four in the effing morning. Last call. Go home or wherever you stay. The party is over...”
“Woooo!” Slosh screams back. “Then what's with all these lights and all this music?”
A giant mechanical hand facepalms the cockpit area of Brian Thorn's mech.
“Listen, Slosh, get out of here,” Thorn sternly orders. “Or you're forcing me to throw you out.”
“Fine! No problem, du- BLARG!” Slosh tries to answer, but a giant fountain of green liquid ejects from his mouth and smacks all over the shiny chest armor of Brian Thorns battle machine.
Thorn tries to keep his cool, but, from the immediate disgust of being vomited on, the bile is also highly corrosive and begins to play havoc on his sensors and controls. He eventually loses his temper and charges forward, dashing forward and dropping Super Slosh with a hip toss against the frozen ground.
“I don't want to hurt you, Slosh, but technically you are also trespassing,” Thorn says, looking down at the sore Sloshman, pointing his finger. “So, just get the clue, and make a move on.”
“How about your mom gets a clue and stops being a wh-”
Suddenly, Thorn's mechanical forearms open up into an array of missiles and rail guns. The begin to heat up and are ready to fire.
“Fine, I'll leave,” Slosh pouts, getting up and walking away. “But I'll remember this!”
Fast Forward!
The winner of Kusko and the Rangers vs. SMF and Wombat is... Super Slosh!
The Double Dragons lay down a mad whooping on Chocolate Moose and Ra-Man
Fearzilla shows he is just on a different level than Hunter Catfish
Brian Thorn easily got back to sleep (maybe with some ladies) after kicking Super Slosh off the premises.
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