Post by i. on May 30, 2005 18:52:45 GMT -5
Warning: All parts of this chapter, or “bit”, were written either under no sleep, under the influence of many root beers, under the influence of turning rock music up very loud and then dancing around before collapsing and pulling myself to the keyboard, under very very mellow music coupled with many root beers, or in the case of the bits after the explanation of Googles, loud Christian rock music that my mother was playing on the radio for some reason unknown to me. Also, the very last parts were written under large amounts of chocolate, root beer, and Keep it Gay being played very loudly. I do not recommend reading this while driving, eating, or standing. Thank you.
J. hung limp in her rough chains. Her chaffed wrists sported a dull reddish colour, a nasty gift from attempting to yank herself out by twisting every such way. She eagerly awaited the day when she would be freed from this dank, lightless banning chamber. J. could see it now, Tragedy coming nearer with the key, unlocking her, her hitting him for exceeding her banning limit, and then her waving good bye with a grin on her face as her release from the banning chains transported her to a random place on 667. She hoped it would be close to the sprawling Menacing Miscellaneous Metropolis.
Nobody came. “Is anybody there? Does anybody even give a damn!?” J. yelled, thrusting forward, as if to break the chains that imprisoned her, though, if she had persisted it was more likely she would have broken her arm first. “My time is up Tragedy, I demand that I am let go!” She shouted at the walls. “Let me go!”
A banning chamber is really quite an ingenious idea, in the same way that Atom Bombs are. The walls are lined with a powerful field of nothing. No matter how long a person stay in the chamber, they will not experience the effects of growing older, hunger, or any other needs. The banning chamber itself is hidden away in a place, most likely high above, or far below. They have as many sets of unbreakable banning shackles that are needed. The chains are affixed to the walls, and can be hoisted higher so the victim dangles down, though that cruel fate is usually reserved for those who have been permanently banned. A clock lines the entire wall that the bannee faces, ticking away at the hours until they are released.
A loud crash alerted J. that something was happening outside. Dully, she looked up, to see the door buckling in the middle. She gave a shout of help that was drowned out by the smashing noise against the door. Suddenly, the door imploded forward in a flurry of splinters and a boot. A man, wearing age increasing codes as a headband, staggered inside. He was clutching at his stomach, stemming a small portion of the raw data flowing from it. He shuddered as the effects of the nothing froze the wound. He scrambled up, and went to J., fumbling with something tucked into his belt. “Who are you? What has happened to you?” J. asked of the man. “I am Dupin.” he replied. “I was injured when Tragedy was murdered.”
The effect of this statement was instantaneous on J. “So, I won’t be getting out of here?”
Dupin continued on. “I was asked to show him one of my stories, Ballet, a tale of physiological holds, secret organizations, and murder. I believe he wished for me to continue it or some such, but the cursed computer deleted it and then- getting to the point, Tragedy thrust this key into my hand with the express instructions of releasing you.” On the word key he drew a rough silver one from his belt. “Whilst I was there, reading over Ballet, a strange man entered. He looked terribly agitated. After bursting in, he let loose with a terrible howl and set upon Tragedy, screeching about some thirty minutes rubbish. He then proceeded to choke tragedy, which I found quite undignified and rude. So it was only natural that I should stab him in the neck with my trusty pen. This enraged him so that he wrested my pen from me and set it back against I, to deliver this wound you see before you. As I slipped to the rest of the unconscious I perceived Tragedy dealt a fatal wound, and then a strangling hold.” Taking a deep breath, Dupin continued on. “As long as I remain in this room, surrounded by nothing, I shall be preserved, but the pain shall also be preserved. I wish to die an honourable death, freeing Lady J. from her imprisonment so that she may aid the fight against Tragedy’s murderer and any of his possible consorts. I wish you luck.” And with that he finished fumbling with the chains, and stood up, backing away.
J. began to rapidly disappear. As her vision swam she saw Dupin salute her before walking, back straight, out of the room. As he exited a fresh spurt of data gushed out and he clenched his teeth. Dupin settled himself upon the ground as his life ended, and J. saw black.
When one is released from their banning chains the effect begins slowly, but gains great and terrible momentum. When one has been entrapped in nothing for so long they must be forcibly removed, and purged of the nothing. The feeling is said to be eerily akin to having your entire body washed out with a rough scrub brush. Then the unbanned fellow will be dragged along to some far distant place where the nothing cannot track them and re-enter. The process gives on a disturbing feeling of being scrubbed raw and pink. Or, if you are deposited on your head, you feel scrubbed raw and as though someone has smashed your head in with an accessory for a drink.
J. awoke, with the feeling of having her brain bashed out by a golden brick wrapped in a lemon linger inside of her mind. “Bloody hell?” She thought. J. propped herself up on her elbows, and groggily looked the spinning landscape before her. “What’s Jjp?” she slurred to no one. She then fell back down into the dusty dirt, for she felt far to clean.
After a few hours of that J. got back up and staggered around for a bit, furiously shaking her head. Sadly for her, though in the broader perspective it was quite excellent, instead of clearing her mind the vigorous shake only muddled everything up again, so she decided to pass out one last time.
J. awoke to the sound of a rant. “This theory is preposterous, I mean, look at all the flaws!” An angry young male voice yelled.
“You just don’t like them because they were written by PJ, and he blames you for puncturing his water mattress.” A soothing female voice said, with a slight accent.
The male sputtered for a bit, and finally lapsed into a sullen silence. I don’t know how silences manage the sullen feel, but this one was sure as hell trying.
“Well, his theories are horrible blemishes on the face of the very aSoUE online community!” The gentleman broke out with a few moments later.
The lady laughed, a somewhat reviving sound that brought J. back to her feet. “Hi-o.” She said, stepping abruptly in front of the two. Or was it one? The figures seemed to meld into one another, from a rather obscured young boy, to a tall woman with longer black hair, to a rather obscured young boy guzzling some form of wine, to a strangely purple coloured girl, or sometimes to both of them at once. “Er.” J. stated.
The woman and man seemed to separate and both walked towards J. “Oy.” The woman said, while the male squinted at her. “Hello, J. It’s me, Josh from that forum you visit, and this is my… er… associate, Beatrix. We’re combined in laws.”
“I’m going to pretend that I know what you’re talking about for a moment. Done. Care to explain? And hiza Josh, oi Bea.” J. said after a raised eyebrow moment.
“Well, you see, one crazy night PJ, Beatrix, Betsy, and Derik all did some crazy snogging thing, and somehow they all ended up married/the same person. I was on the contact list at the time, and when Derik invited me in I too was affected. However, this was long ago, and since PJ has separated and went off on his own little thing, Betsy was separated in an accident involving a paper shredder, illegal intoxicants, and a block of ice. One day Derik just wasn’t here, we haven’t seen him since.” Josh said. “And now, it’s only us,” concluded Beatrix.
“O-okay.” J. said slowly. “Well, I understood most of that. Anyway, where are we? I assumed the archives because of all the books and such, but it’s rather well lit and warm. Is there anyone else here?”
“We’re in Conflicting Conjunctures, the PJP section. Josh wanted to come and denounce PJ’s theories, and expose the non-existent holes in them.”
J. gazed around her at a vast area, spanning in every two dimensional direction, as far as the eye could see. Thousands of theories resided here, in this pleasant, well-lit area.
“They ARE existent! S’all bloody rubbish!” Josh said angrily. “That PJ, thinking he’s so damn smart, with his rubbishy theories.”
“Josh, let it be about that mattress, after all, it was your fault.” Beatrix said, her head appearing slightly mockingly next to Josh’s.
Again, Josh sputtered, but, again, said nothing. One got the feel that even with Josh’s self-important bluster; the quiet, calm Beatrix was really in charge. Humming a popular tune, Beatrix, Josh and J. set of out of the section.
“Does this place ever bloody end?” J. moaned. “My legs are killing me.”
“I know! This is so long. How does PJ come up with all of this?!” Beatrix asked.
Josh said nothing; he was drunk out of his mind on the wine that he always kept in his pockets.
“Okay, screw this.” J. said angrily, pulling a card from her pocket.
“Ah, she’s got a hole in her pocket.” Josh slurred.
“I think it’s a card Josh.” Beatrix corrected, before Josh shrugged, the sudden action sending him sprawling to the floor.
J. slapped the card to the ground, where the Google emblem flashed brazenly. “Now, everyone get ready.”
“Wait, if you had a Google Card the whole time, why did you waste time with us all walking?” Bea asked.
Conveniently for the plot, the rush of the Google arriving and removing J., Bea, and Josh exceeded the speed of J.’s response.
Googles are a transport system. They resemble a rather stretched tube, though one end is wickedly pointed. They can take you to other sites, but more importantly it can take you out of the site that you are in. Also, they can transport you to other parts of the site you’re already on. As everyone knows, they are the only safe way to travel. However, it used to be that only a person of great power and programming skill could harness a Google, so you were stuck at a site unless you had powerful connections, or risked one of the far more dangerous engines, such as Moving our Society Nimbly. Moving our Society Nimbly would randomly close down in the middle of transportations, killing all aboard. So it was, until Hadenago came along. She was a very talented programmer, and even invented her own line of electronic books that could be accessed through the internet. Sadly, she was consumed by the lust for money. When she began charging vast amounts of money for her so called “e-books” her business died. Enraged with this loss she set upon the difficult task of capturing the essence of Google access in some sort of material container, for the commercial market. Years later this feat was accomplished, and she now resides in the richest bit of town. The Googles have gone from the majestic shuttles of the mighty to slums, disgusting trash filled dumps where bleary-eyed conductors can drop you off at an area within a few sites of your original destination point and you are packed in along with the regular crowd of millions. Site masters going to nurse their babies, shady hackers following the flashier web masters, perverts rushing for sexXx.nude showcases, and just people looking for entertainment, or information: They all used Google, and all need to be watched out for on a Google.
Couldn't find a seat so I had to stand
With the perverts in the back
It was smellin' like a locker room
There was junk all over the floor
We're already packed in like sardines
But we're stoppin' to pick up more- Weird Al Yankovic
J. hopped off the Google, humming a catchy tune. Following her was Beatrix, who jumped out onto a chair, and Josh, who tripped and landed in a large pile of popcorn. “MM sure looks different.” Beatrix commented, to which several people turned towards them and went “Shhhhh!” as loud as possible. At a glance, they seemed to be in a cinema. After a few more glances, the initial glance’s observations were deemed to be correct. On screen, a sickeningly cheerful person made of clay appeared to be cavorting and frolicking around with forest creatures, and a gunmen. The seats were filled with dozens of lifeless bodies, “Wtf?” J. muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
Josh’s fall had somewhat cleared his head, and he lunged towards the sush-er, an older woman staring transfixed at the screen. “’Scuse me miss-” he began to say when with a glare she turned towards him and screamed “Shhhhhhhh!” at him again. “You’re disturbing the other patrons of the movie!”
“Begging your pardon miss, but they’re all dead.” Josh abruptly said.
Glaring at him the older woman suppressed a deeper emotion. “Listen you, if you can’t sit down and be quiet, you can leave, and go discuss the movie outside. No one is dead, and it is all okay. If you do nto stop those stupid lies I will be forced to report you to Tragedy.”
Stepping up, J. turned from the movie and said “He’s dead too.” over her shoulder.
The woman turned back to the movie also, mumbling to herself. “Dead members, bah. There are no dead members, everything is perfectly normal, everything is fine, everything is fine, everything is fine.” She said, shivering slightly. Grabbing herself, she began to rock back and forth. “No one’s dead, everyone is fine, it’s all under control, just watch the movie Gigi, come on, it’s all fine, just keep doing what you were doing before, come one, everything is fine.” She turned her eyes to the screen and watched, slowly ceasing her rocking.
“Er.” Josh said helpfully, melding back into Beatrix, and turning to look back to J. “Why did we want to come to MM again?” S/he asked of her.
J. thought it over for a moment, and suddenly began looking franticly around. She sprinted outside until she found a desk, and promptly banged her head against it. She then rushed back inside, and explained. “This is MM, but not the right MM! This is the Malignant Movie, not Menacing Miscellaneous. The right MM is a bit of a hike from her if I remember correctly, but we can make it.”
“…Why did we want to go to this miscellaneous place again?” Josh asked.
“Dunno.” J. replied. Stuff happens there. Maybe people can tell us why Gigi’s moderating a crowd of dead members and watching the aSoUE movie repeatedly.”
“Okay.” Josh simply replied.
A few hours and a crate of wine later, the three/two stumbled into Menacing Miscellaneous. “Are we alive?” Josh asked Beatrix and J.
Conflicting answers rang out, a yes from J. and a no from Beatrix, who had blisters on her toes and bruises on her arms from getting bumped by Josh’s stupid wine bottles every minute.
“’Kay.” Josh said, and lead the group into a wall, before righting himself and going into the building. Instantly three figures rushed at them holding a strange assortment of weapons. The middle one suddenly chucked her cell phone and razor down and ran to Beatrix. “Beaaaaaaa! Yay!” she yelled. “Betsy?” the shocked Beatrix asked. “Yupp.” Snogging ensured. “Josh!” Betsy yelled. Drinking continued and began. “Person whom I vaguely recognize but who’s name I can’t recall!” Betsy hoarsely said. Formal handshakes ensured.
“It’s J.!” Pandora said, and rushed to her, dropping her foam baseball bat and running to J. Cleinra quickly closed the door, before peering outside. “Are there any more of you?” Celinra asked.
“Nope.” A voice said, breaking out through the snogging, drinking, handshaking throng that had formed. Celinra shrugged, and forgetting security, jumped in.
After the preliminary greetings were done, Celinra informed J., Beatrix, and Josh as to the situation. “OMFG” “Is PJ dead?” and “Is anyone else still alive?” broke out from the recently informed members. J. then took it upon herself to inform them about Dupin and Tragedy’s demises. After the shocks were passed, the group sat pondering for a bit. “Well, this is quite dull.” J. said after a minute or two of pondering. “What have you been doing here? Do you have any system for finding other members?” She asked.
“Not much, and no.” Betsy said.
“I could set up alerts in my sections, so that anyone who goes in will know what to do.” Pandora said.
“Then please do so. Does anyone else have a plan?” J. asked.
“I think we should all stay here, and go with the fact that many people will come to MM. We all did.” Beatrix put in.
“No they won’t, you were one of a kind.” Betsy argued.
And with that two figures burst through the door, on their hands and knees, clutching at two books whilst yelling and laughing, “Praise the laughing god, we’re alive!”
Bit Five
J. hung limp in her rough chains. Her chaffed wrists sported a dull reddish colour, a nasty gift from attempting to yank herself out by twisting every such way. She eagerly awaited the day when she would be freed from this dank, lightless banning chamber. J. could see it now, Tragedy coming nearer with the key, unlocking her, her hitting him for exceeding her banning limit, and then her waving good bye with a grin on her face as her release from the banning chains transported her to a random place on 667. She hoped it would be close to the sprawling Menacing Miscellaneous Metropolis.
Nobody came. “Is anybody there? Does anybody even give a damn!?” J. yelled, thrusting forward, as if to break the chains that imprisoned her, though, if she had persisted it was more likely she would have broken her arm first. “My time is up Tragedy, I demand that I am let go!” She shouted at the walls. “Let me go!”
A banning chamber is really quite an ingenious idea, in the same way that Atom Bombs are. The walls are lined with a powerful field of nothing. No matter how long a person stay in the chamber, they will not experience the effects of growing older, hunger, or any other needs. The banning chamber itself is hidden away in a place, most likely high above, or far below. They have as many sets of unbreakable banning shackles that are needed. The chains are affixed to the walls, and can be hoisted higher so the victim dangles down, though that cruel fate is usually reserved for those who have been permanently banned. A clock lines the entire wall that the bannee faces, ticking away at the hours until they are released.
A loud crash alerted J. that something was happening outside. Dully, she looked up, to see the door buckling in the middle. She gave a shout of help that was drowned out by the smashing noise against the door. Suddenly, the door imploded forward in a flurry of splinters and a boot. A man, wearing age increasing codes as a headband, staggered inside. He was clutching at his stomach, stemming a small portion of the raw data flowing from it. He shuddered as the effects of the nothing froze the wound. He scrambled up, and went to J., fumbling with something tucked into his belt. “Who are you? What has happened to you?” J. asked of the man. “I am Dupin.” he replied. “I was injured when Tragedy was murdered.”
The effect of this statement was instantaneous on J. “So, I won’t be getting out of here?”
Dupin continued on. “I was asked to show him one of my stories, Ballet, a tale of physiological holds, secret organizations, and murder. I believe he wished for me to continue it or some such, but the cursed computer deleted it and then- getting to the point, Tragedy thrust this key into my hand with the express instructions of releasing you.” On the word key he drew a rough silver one from his belt. “Whilst I was there, reading over Ballet, a strange man entered. He looked terribly agitated. After bursting in, he let loose with a terrible howl and set upon Tragedy, screeching about some thirty minutes rubbish. He then proceeded to choke tragedy, which I found quite undignified and rude. So it was only natural that I should stab him in the neck with my trusty pen. This enraged him so that he wrested my pen from me and set it back against I, to deliver this wound you see before you. As I slipped to the rest of the unconscious I perceived Tragedy dealt a fatal wound, and then a strangling hold.” Taking a deep breath, Dupin continued on. “As long as I remain in this room, surrounded by nothing, I shall be preserved, but the pain shall also be preserved. I wish to die an honourable death, freeing Lady J. from her imprisonment so that she may aid the fight against Tragedy’s murderer and any of his possible consorts. I wish you luck.” And with that he finished fumbling with the chains, and stood up, backing away.
J. began to rapidly disappear. As her vision swam she saw Dupin salute her before walking, back straight, out of the room. As he exited a fresh spurt of data gushed out and he clenched his teeth. Dupin settled himself upon the ground as his life ended, and J. saw black.
When one is released from their banning chains the effect begins slowly, but gains great and terrible momentum. When one has been entrapped in nothing for so long they must be forcibly removed, and purged of the nothing. The feeling is said to be eerily akin to having your entire body washed out with a rough scrub brush. Then the unbanned fellow will be dragged along to some far distant place where the nothing cannot track them and re-enter. The process gives on a disturbing feeling of being scrubbed raw and pink. Or, if you are deposited on your head, you feel scrubbed raw and as though someone has smashed your head in with an accessory for a drink.
J. awoke, with the feeling of having her brain bashed out by a golden brick wrapped in a lemon linger inside of her mind. “Bloody hell?” She thought. J. propped herself up on her elbows, and groggily looked the spinning landscape before her. “What’s Jjp?” she slurred to no one. She then fell back down into the dusty dirt, for she felt far to clean.
After a few hours of that J. got back up and staggered around for a bit, furiously shaking her head. Sadly for her, though in the broader perspective it was quite excellent, instead of clearing her mind the vigorous shake only muddled everything up again, so she decided to pass out one last time.
J. awoke to the sound of a rant. “This theory is preposterous, I mean, look at all the flaws!” An angry young male voice yelled.
“You just don’t like them because they were written by PJ, and he blames you for puncturing his water mattress.” A soothing female voice said, with a slight accent.
The male sputtered for a bit, and finally lapsed into a sullen silence. I don’t know how silences manage the sullen feel, but this one was sure as hell trying.
“Well, his theories are horrible blemishes on the face of the very aSoUE online community!” The gentleman broke out with a few moments later.
The lady laughed, a somewhat reviving sound that brought J. back to her feet. “Hi-o.” She said, stepping abruptly in front of the two. Or was it one? The figures seemed to meld into one another, from a rather obscured young boy, to a tall woman with longer black hair, to a rather obscured young boy guzzling some form of wine, to a strangely purple coloured girl, or sometimes to both of them at once. “Er.” J. stated.
The woman and man seemed to separate and both walked towards J. “Oy.” The woman said, while the male squinted at her. “Hello, J. It’s me, Josh from that forum you visit, and this is my… er… associate, Beatrix. We’re combined in laws.”
“I’m going to pretend that I know what you’re talking about for a moment. Done. Care to explain? And hiza Josh, oi Bea.” J. said after a raised eyebrow moment.
“Well, you see, one crazy night PJ, Beatrix, Betsy, and Derik all did some crazy snogging thing, and somehow they all ended up married/the same person. I was on the contact list at the time, and when Derik invited me in I too was affected. However, this was long ago, and since PJ has separated and went off on his own little thing, Betsy was separated in an accident involving a paper shredder, illegal intoxicants, and a block of ice. One day Derik just wasn’t here, we haven’t seen him since.” Josh said. “And now, it’s only us,” concluded Beatrix.
“O-okay.” J. said slowly. “Well, I understood most of that. Anyway, where are we? I assumed the archives because of all the books and such, but it’s rather well lit and warm. Is there anyone else here?”
“We’re in Conflicting Conjunctures, the PJP section. Josh wanted to come and denounce PJ’s theories, and expose the non-existent holes in them.”
J. gazed around her at a vast area, spanning in every two dimensional direction, as far as the eye could see. Thousands of theories resided here, in this pleasant, well-lit area.
“They ARE existent! S’all bloody rubbish!” Josh said angrily. “That PJ, thinking he’s so damn smart, with his rubbishy theories.”
“Josh, let it be about that mattress, after all, it was your fault.” Beatrix said, her head appearing slightly mockingly next to Josh’s.
Again, Josh sputtered, but, again, said nothing. One got the feel that even with Josh’s self-important bluster; the quiet, calm Beatrix was really in charge. Humming a popular tune, Beatrix, Josh and J. set of out of the section.
“Does this place ever bloody end?” J. moaned. “My legs are killing me.”
“I know! This is so long. How does PJ come up with all of this?!” Beatrix asked.
Josh said nothing; he was drunk out of his mind on the wine that he always kept in his pockets.
“Okay, screw this.” J. said angrily, pulling a card from her pocket.
“Ah, she’s got a hole in her pocket.” Josh slurred.
“I think it’s a card Josh.” Beatrix corrected, before Josh shrugged, the sudden action sending him sprawling to the floor.
J. slapped the card to the ground, where the Google emblem flashed brazenly. “Now, everyone get ready.”
“Wait, if you had a Google Card the whole time, why did you waste time with us all walking?” Bea asked.
Conveniently for the plot, the rush of the Google arriving and removing J., Bea, and Josh exceeded the speed of J.’s response.
Googles are a transport system. They resemble a rather stretched tube, though one end is wickedly pointed. They can take you to other sites, but more importantly it can take you out of the site that you are in. Also, they can transport you to other parts of the site you’re already on. As everyone knows, they are the only safe way to travel. However, it used to be that only a person of great power and programming skill could harness a Google, so you were stuck at a site unless you had powerful connections, or risked one of the far more dangerous engines, such as Moving our Society Nimbly. Moving our Society Nimbly would randomly close down in the middle of transportations, killing all aboard. So it was, until Hadenago came along. She was a very talented programmer, and even invented her own line of electronic books that could be accessed through the internet. Sadly, she was consumed by the lust for money. When she began charging vast amounts of money for her so called “e-books” her business died. Enraged with this loss she set upon the difficult task of capturing the essence of Google access in some sort of material container, for the commercial market. Years later this feat was accomplished, and she now resides in the richest bit of town. The Googles have gone from the majestic shuttles of the mighty to slums, disgusting trash filled dumps where bleary-eyed conductors can drop you off at an area within a few sites of your original destination point and you are packed in along with the regular crowd of millions. Site masters going to nurse their babies, shady hackers following the flashier web masters, perverts rushing for sexXx.nude showcases, and just people looking for entertainment, or information: They all used Google, and all need to be watched out for on a Google.
Couldn't find a seat so I had to stand
With the perverts in the back
It was smellin' like a locker room
There was junk all over the floor
We're already packed in like sardines
But we're stoppin' to pick up more- Weird Al Yankovic
J. hopped off the Google, humming a catchy tune. Following her was Beatrix, who jumped out onto a chair, and Josh, who tripped and landed in a large pile of popcorn. “MM sure looks different.” Beatrix commented, to which several people turned towards them and went “Shhhhh!” as loud as possible. At a glance, they seemed to be in a cinema. After a few more glances, the initial glance’s observations were deemed to be correct. On screen, a sickeningly cheerful person made of clay appeared to be cavorting and frolicking around with forest creatures, and a gunmen. The seats were filled with dozens of lifeless bodies, “Wtf?” J. muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
Josh’s fall had somewhat cleared his head, and he lunged towards the sush-er, an older woman staring transfixed at the screen. “’Scuse me miss-” he began to say when with a glare she turned towards him and screamed “Shhhhhhhh!” at him again. “You’re disturbing the other patrons of the movie!”
“Begging your pardon miss, but they’re all dead.” Josh abruptly said.
Glaring at him the older woman suppressed a deeper emotion. “Listen you, if you can’t sit down and be quiet, you can leave, and go discuss the movie outside. No one is dead, and it is all okay. If you do nto stop those stupid lies I will be forced to report you to Tragedy.”
Stepping up, J. turned from the movie and said “He’s dead too.” over her shoulder.
The woman turned back to the movie also, mumbling to herself. “Dead members, bah. There are no dead members, everything is perfectly normal, everything is fine, everything is fine, everything is fine.” She said, shivering slightly. Grabbing herself, she began to rock back and forth. “No one’s dead, everyone is fine, it’s all under control, just watch the movie Gigi, come on, it’s all fine, just keep doing what you were doing before, come one, everything is fine.” She turned her eyes to the screen and watched, slowly ceasing her rocking.
“Er.” Josh said helpfully, melding back into Beatrix, and turning to look back to J. “Why did we want to come to MM again?” S/he asked of her.
J. thought it over for a moment, and suddenly began looking franticly around. She sprinted outside until she found a desk, and promptly banged her head against it. She then rushed back inside, and explained. “This is MM, but not the right MM! This is the Malignant Movie, not Menacing Miscellaneous. The right MM is a bit of a hike from her if I remember correctly, but we can make it.”
“…Why did we want to go to this miscellaneous place again?” Josh asked.
“Dunno.” J. replied. Stuff happens there. Maybe people can tell us why Gigi’s moderating a crowd of dead members and watching the aSoUE movie repeatedly.”
“Okay.” Josh simply replied.
A few hours and a crate of wine later, the three/two stumbled into Menacing Miscellaneous. “Are we alive?” Josh asked Beatrix and J.
Conflicting answers rang out, a yes from J. and a no from Beatrix, who had blisters on her toes and bruises on her arms from getting bumped by Josh’s stupid wine bottles every minute.
“’Kay.” Josh said, and lead the group into a wall, before righting himself and going into the building. Instantly three figures rushed at them holding a strange assortment of weapons. The middle one suddenly chucked her cell phone and razor down and ran to Beatrix. “Beaaaaaaa! Yay!” she yelled. “Betsy?” the shocked Beatrix asked. “Yupp.” Snogging ensured. “Josh!” Betsy yelled. Drinking continued and began. “Person whom I vaguely recognize but who’s name I can’t recall!” Betsy hoarsely said. Formal handshakes ensured.
“It’s J.!” Pandora said, and rushed to her, dropping her foam baseball bat and running to J. Cleinra quickly closed the door, before peering outside. “Are there any more of you?” Celinra asked.
“Nope.” A voice said, breaking out through the snogging, drinking, handshaking throng that had formed. Celinra shrugged, and forgetting security, jumped in.
After the preliminary greetings were done, Celinra informed J., Beatrix, and Josh as to the situation. “OMFG” “Is PJ dead?” and “Is anyone else still alive?” broke out from the recently informed members. J. then took it upon herself to inform them about Dupin and Tragedy’s demises. After the shocks were passed, the group sat pondering for a bit. “Well, this is quite dull.” J. said after a minute or two of pondering. “What have you been doing here? Do you have any system for finding other members?” She asked.
“Not much, and no.” Betsy said.
“I could set up alerts in my sections, so that anyone who goes in will know what to do.” Pandora said.
“Then please do so. Does anyone else have a plan?” J. asked.
“I think we should all stay here, and go with the fact that many people will come to MM. We all did.” Beatrix put in.
“No they won’t, you were one of a kind.” Betsy argued.
And with that two figures burst through the door, on their hands and knees, clutching at two books whilst yelling and laughing, “Praise the laughing god, we’re alive!”