ITT:You must WRITE slash of your avatar and the above avatar

100 word minimum. Yeah, inspired by the other thread. Yeah, you can reserve a post.

edited 30th Dec '10 5:19:16 PM by OOZE

This will end well...

Awesome Zombie had been walking in the thick forest, the air was cold and damp, and that's the way she liked it. There were no humans near here, either. Mainly because they knew how strong she was. Zombie had killed countless numbers of humans in her lifetime, and she never thought of stopping. While she was enjoying her stroll, a tentacle had wrapped around her waist, and was pulling her back. She tried biting it, but it didn't do anything. Zombie then tried to freeze it, but alas, it broke the ice. "Stop it, beast!", she had yelled furiously, but nothing was working. It had eventually pulled her all the way to the owner of the tendrils, a giant ping-pong ball of doom. It took the other tentacle and (censored for your sanity). After that, Zombie ran back to her cave and dunked her head in mind detergent.

As a Note for the next poster, Zombie has Combat Tentacles, too.

edited 30th Dec '10 4:30:18 PM by AwesomeZombie22

Dr. Insano was taking a stroll one night when he encountered Awesome Zombie. Little does anyone realize was that Insano was a closet necrophiliac and figured nobody understands what he really does, because they don't want to know. Insano asked Awesome Zombie if he would have his way with her, but she rejected his proposal and used her Combat Tentacles to repel him, but he subdued them with SCIENCE, and then through the same powers made Awesome Zombie horny and (For your own sanity, a good chunk of this slashfic is censored. Thanks!). With that, Insano giggled with glee and sexual pleasure as he walked out.

Also, I propose reducing the minimum number of words to reduce chances of potential ninjas, or at least have ninja-proof posts to edit later on.

edited 30th Dec '10 5:22:25 PM by WartysNeryon

King Harkinian was bored in his palace. Link was out catching Octorocks with Zelda and Gwonam was in a trip around the world, so he decided to watch his favourite Internet reviewer, Spoony.

In that week's episode, the character Dr Insano had invented a machine capable of creating links between Internet and the real world. As soon as he pressed "On", Harkinian was sucked into his computer.AndthenherapedInsanowhileMorshuwatchedTheEnd

It wasn't a dark and stormy night, but Harkinian would remember it that way forever while gibbering to his trauma councilor.

He was strolling throughout the kingdom, playing his electric lute to impress the people, when he came across a large cave. He was tired and weary, so he entered the cave with plans to rest for the evening as a light drizzle was beginning to fall.

Slowly the king became aware of another presence inside the cave. He first smelled an odd scent, then heard breathing. A large, ominous shadow appeared before him, and eventually approached the light of his campfire, revealing itself to be a massive troll.

The king was certain that the troll would eat him. Honestly he would've prefered it that way. See, the next thing that became apparent to the king horrified him.

The troll had a boner.

Commander Shepard took a few steps back as the troll leered at him, a lusty look in his dark eyes.

Thank god for Cerberus enhancements, thought Shepard as he pulled his trousers down.

"So," he said to the troll, "what can you tell me about the Mines of Moria?"

The troll howled in fury and tore its loin-cloth off, revealing that the two-eyed monster's one-eyed monster was the size of Shepard's entire body.

"...I have to go," said Shepard, stepping out of his pants and breaking into a run, hoping the Normandy would A: reach him before the troll did, and B: not ask awkward questions.

Awesome Zombie was in space, trying to find any aliens who can upgrade her power even further than it already was. During her travels, she had accidentally stumbled into Commander Shepard, who had mistaken her for an alien. Zombie took out her tentacles and squeezed tightly, unfortunately for her, Shepard had a BDSM fetish. The undead retracted the appendages when she felt his boner, and Shepard decided to get rid of it... if you know what I mean. So he (written out to preserve the sanity of the human race), and Zombie then ran her tentacle through his chest, killing him, then walked away, thinking of how odd it was that she ran into three sexual encounters in the same week.

"No, Awesome Zombie, I can't keep up with this relationship," said Tarou, looking endearingly into Awesome's eyes."Our clans have been fighting each other for such a long time. Why oh why can they not settle their differences peacefully?"

"Ssh..." Awesome Zombie placed a finger upon Tarou's lips. "Please, don't speak of such a subject. We are out in the woods, no one knows we're here. For once, we can focus on ourselves and on each other." Awesome Zombie laid a kiss upon Tarou's lips and Tarou blushed.

"Well, you are right, Awesome. Let's forget all our worries and let me ravish you."

(I'll leave the rest to your imagination.)

Tarou came across a golden city in the middle of the desert. There he went to the home of Tack, a simple cobbler there. They both looked nervously into each other; Tarou was nervous of the cobbler's habit of keeping tacks in his mouth while Tack was disturbed that someone had entered his premises. Nonetheless, both felt rather adventurous at the time and decided to advance on a nervous embrace. Gradually taking off each other's clothes, they were momentarily disturbed when a thief was walking past them. The thief gazed for a moment, not saying a word, and left as the two boys resumed their sexual activities...

edited 1st Jan '11 12:59:59 PM by WartysNeryon

"So," said Orin, picking up the film strip. "What have we here?" The patient had left a strip of film in his office, though he hadn't lived. Apparently you can't actually survive having a dental drill jammed through your brain. Orin stretched out the film and looked at a single frame. On it was a single picture of a pale boy with several tacks in his mouth. Maybe I could jam them further in, he thought? Suddenly the film seemed to be sucking Orin in. He grabbed his drill but didn't resist.

So, there he was, in some sort of Arabian temple. He flipped the switch on his drill and jammed it down the little boy's ass repeatedly, severing his penis and making it bleed all over the ground. Hey, this was fun! Sadly, irritating narration from Matthew Brodreick ruined the occasion.

edited 1st Jan '11 2:06:48 PM by OOZE

"Perhaps," said Frank-N-Furter with a chuckle, "you would like to stay the night in my mansion. And your name is?"

"I am Guybrush Threepwood and I am a mighty pirate," replied Guybrush.

And so after a night of, um, weird entertainment, Guybrush chose a bed for himself to stay in. While Guybrush was asleep, Frank-N-Furter used a Transducer ray on him. Guybrush then was awakened by the sight of Frank-N-Furter's grin, and becoming seduced, Guybrush said, "I am Guybrush Threepwood, prepare to have sex!"

With that, Guybrush took off his trousers and Frank-N-Furter his garters, revealing a vagina. Guybrush was confused since the mad doctor looked and talked like a man, but proceeded on to having sex anyways. "You fuck like a dairy farmer," Frank said with an ecstatic grin. "How appropriate," smiled Threepwood as he rolled himself on top, "You fuck like a cow!"

With that, they fucked the night away, and it just so happened that Elaine decided to pay a visit...

(the rest of this is left out for the sake of your sanity)

God, I feel VERY unclean writing this...

edited 3rd Jan '11 6:44:38 PM by WartysNeryon

Guybrush had been trying to find the lobster in the sea so he could give it to a yak who would lose it's fur and provide him with a new coat, which he would use to fend off a nasty squid, when he had noticed an octopus. He bravely threw his shoe at it, and the octopus shown it's full form. It turns out, it was Awesome Zombie in the river, blinded by detergent in her eyes. "Whoever threw that, stop it! And for the love of god, don't be a necrophiliac!" "Could I have my shoe back, madam?" "That was a shoe?" She asked, still blinded. Guybrush swam out there to find the shoe, but Zombie's wandering tentacles started to wrap around him, and rubbed him in inappropriate areas, eventually, he found his shoes, and asked Zombie where she found the mind detergent.

edited 1st Jan '11 5:19:06 PM by AwesomeZombie22

Stripped to the waist, lying on the floor of an abandoned warehouse, Norman Jayden assessed his current situation and how he came to find himself in it. It had all started when the FBI agent had approached the apparent murder victim. He had honestly expected very few surprises; finding a corpse or two was all too normal—nay, one might say it was even expected at most crime scenes.

The truly strange thing was that this particular dead body was mobile, and—judging by the sense of urgency with which it had leapt on him and proceeded to tear off his clothing—incredibly aroused. Jayden made a mental note to "accidentally" delete whatever might ensue from ARI's records... assuming it wasn't about to get any more enjoyable.

edited 1st Jan '11 8:43:33 PM by MsieurLapin

"Where the hell am I!?" Norman looked around. All he knew was that he was in a room, with a conveyor belt, and a man who looks a bit like a ninja.

"Welcome to my level, Norman. I see you have been able to avoid all my previous obstacles," said Metal Man, "but can you avoid me!?"

Metal Man began to run towards Norman, a lecherous look on his face. Norman tried to run away, but Metal Man changed the direction of the conveyor belt. It was pushing Norman towards him! Norman couldn't even turn his head before he felt a pair of hands on his waist, pulling off his pants. Norman was pushed onto the floor, to Metal Man's enjoyment. Strangely, though, Norman was feeling both scared and aroused.

edited 2nd Jan '11 8:12:55 AM by BlackHoleOfFood

The King opened the package. Inside, there was his new videogame, Megaman 2: Virtual Reality Edition.

- "OAH! This game is what all true warriors strive for!"

He started playing and the Metal Man stage. When he arrived to the Boss room, he noticed something different in Metal Man. The game was set in genderbent mode!

- "Hmmmm...." -said The King stroking his beard- Rub mah dick!"

US UR IMAGINASHUN

edited 2nd Jan '11 8:27:28 AM by nohaynicklibre

Once again, King Harkinian was bored; Link was out bombing dodongos, Zelda is visiting a sick Impa, Gwonam was living in peace and harmony in Koridai with birds singing, and Ganon decided to take a day off, so aid to Duke Onkled is not necessary right now. So the King decided to visit the Garrys Mod world, so he entered the computer and there he was in the gm_construct map.

Just then, he heard some clicking, and advancing to him at a distance is what looks like a RED soldier, except "Puzzle in the Caves" from Donkey Kong 64 was playing. "OAH!" said the King. "What are you?"

"I am Painis Cupcake," said that strange RED Soldier. "I will eat you," he continued while sporting a Slasher Smile.

"OAAAAAAAAAAH! 'Painis'? After you scrub my dick, then we can talk about mercy."

With that, the King took off his robe and took off Painis' trousers. Looking pretty confused and a bit disturbed at first, Painis Cupcake decided that it could work out, and he smiled. It was then that he used his... umm... "painis" to...

[The rest of this story intentionally omitted]

edited 2nd Jan '11 9:20:02 AM by WartysNeryon

It's been months since this whole fight, and the RED Soldier has been feeling lonely, lately. Trying to hide from a Heavy, he took refuge inside a shed. He turned around to see a red figure, but this figure looked nothing like any member of the RED Soldier's team.

"Who are you?" Asked the RED Soldier.

"I am Metal Man. I stumbled here not too long ago in search of a blue boy. Have you seen him?"

"Are you a dentist?"

"No, I'm not a dentist! Why does everyone think that!?"

The Soldier was too distracted by Metal Man's figure, his design, and how his armor gleamed. The fact that they both had similar missions was too much of a coincidence. The RED Soldier though it was fate. All primal instincts took over Soldier as he tacked Metal Man to the ground. The Soldier began to remove his shirt and pants, and Metal Man simply stared with fear as to what would happen next.

I feel so horrible writing this, but it's too much fun.

edited 2nd Jan '11 10:20:53 AM by BlackHoleOfFood

"Welcome to the Aperture Research Facility," chimed GLaDOS as Metal Man entered through the doors. "Hey, you seem to like I am, allow me to come down and take a closer look."

Expecting maybe a camera to appear, Metal Man instead could see a beautiful woman, with differently-coloured pupils, two camera-like objects in her hair and metallic-looking attire. Metal Man didn't know what to say, wondering if perhaps this is a creation of Dr. Wily or Dr. Light given her form. "Perhaps you're looking for someone," droned GLaDOS, "and you are still alive through the experience. It's lonely here, and I have cake."

It was then that GLaDOS kissed Metal Man where the mouth should be. Metal Man wasn't really sure what to say about that, but he returned the embrace.

(the rest is up to you, even though this story is meant to be a WAFF; I just can't write worth of shit)

edited 4th Jan '11 1:23:27 PM by WartysNeryon

A small girl stuck her head over the rim of a rather large hole in the ground. Looking around, she took in the unexpected jungle in the middle of Cleveland. Good thing she was prepared, the girl thought as she smoothed out the faded jungle fatigues. Retrieving a gun, that while cut down, was still far too large for a normal girl her age. Or rather, the age her size would suggest. Dusty hefted the modified Bofors in her arms. She'd lived a long life, a life that had taken her all over the world from Germany to Korea to Vietnam. Yeah. Vietnam. Then a long stay in a nice museum, she'd sat silent and alone amongst her peers. Brushing a lock of graying hair away from her eyes. Time to go.

Without a second thought, she jumped into the greenery bellow.

Surprisingly heavy, the girl crashed through the canopy of a tree before cratering the soft ground bellow. Her pupils dilated as Dusty took in the very familiar terrain. Well, if 'nam had been littered with cables and what looked like the remains of a computer system. This was certainly unusual. There was flowing water too. With a wince, this was getting harder to do each time, she stood up. Not bothering to brush her already dirty uniform off the self-propelled anti-aircraft gun turned cute lil' girl cleared the LZ.

Weapon up, she scanned the eerily quiet plant life. Here and there a bird chirped, but it wasn't nearly enough. No, something was wrong here. Dusty tightened her grip on the gun. With all the wrecked machinery strewn about she wasn't surprised to hear something whirring in the brush. Her eyes narrowed. An articulated arm of some sort shot out from the same area the sound tantalizing her lay. Without even thinking she pulled the trigger, putting just one forty millimeter HE shell into whatever had dared to attack her. Mere inches away from her torso the arm dropped to the ground with a clash.

There was no more movement. Another round already in the chamber, Dusty carefully approached her target. What cover it'd had had surrendered to the path of her shell. It wasn't difficult to make out the carnage that had resulted. The thirty year old shell had exploded exactly as designed....

You aRE nOt a GOod peRSoN. yOU knoW THat, r-rigHT? A girl about her size, or rather the upper half of a girl about her size lay in the water feet away from a rather battered mechanical arm. That seemed far less important at this point. The twintails, white hair, weird head camera... things... and most importantly that voice.

"What?" was all she managed to croak out. She couldn't have, why would she have..? Dusty dropped the cannon. Tears dampened the grime caked on her cheeks, not her! She shook her head in shock, "No... No. Not you. Not GLaDOS!"

The remaining intact head camera thing slowly blinked I am still alive. You can not KIll me M42A1 256-1733. HoWEver, yOUR conTINued devIAtion frOM tESTing procedure enSUREs you wiLL not receive. Cake.

Dusty stopped moving entirely. Not as quick to respond, the dirty tears continued to drop onto her uniform. Clashing with the rather aggravated look on her face, "Cake!? You're still going on about cake!"

Abandoning all pretense of reserve Dusty waded through the shell crater and waist deep through her stream to reach the fallen computer, disk operating system, girl-thing. Falling to her knees she instinctively began checking over the upper torso. It was silly, what had happened was obvious, there was nothing she could do. But maybe just maybe one of the ordnance techs could... GLaDOS's remaining intact arm tried to push her away. It's bEEn A loNG tIme.

If it was possible, the girl-robot sounded disappointed. Dusty forced herself to look her friend in the eyes. They weren't human. Empty. Soul less. She squeezed her own shut; that didn't matter to Dusty. Everyone said the same about her's. Putting one arm under GLaDOS', despite the girl's weak attempts to push her off, lifting her out of the water. Cables and jagged metal dangled from where a shell fragment had separated the still alive part from the destroyed legs. Studiously ignoring the damage to her clothes, Dusty kept her eyes on GLaDOS' face. She responded with a weak smile, "I've been busy saving the world. Heard you tried to help."

Sort OF. It didN'T tuRN OUt weLL. The sUBject WAs nothing like yÞou. Dusty. It was probably just a droplet of water from the stream she'd been in. But that was definitely a pout; her facial expressions had improved You caME cLOseR to kILling ME. You mONstER.

"I said I was sorry!" she protested. Damnit how does she get under my skin like that? Dusty sighed, crossing the rushing waters quickly. She'd have to figure out some way to get her back out of the hol- GLaDOS' eyes closed. Dusty's eyes went wide, "Wait! No!

They reopened. With a smile. Dusty nearly dropped her there, leave her to let her power drain out. Her victim seemed to, oddly, realize the mistake she'd made with her 'joke' and frowned I am soRRy. THat waS INAppropriate of ME.

For the first time, Dusty averted her eyes as a real smile returned to her face, "Apology accepted. Now let's get you out of here."

edited 3rd Jan '11 11:45:30 AM by hotelkilo

Wordcount: 2,245. Talk about going overboard.

When Yuki Nagato approaches the datum center the sky is leaden with impending snow and the streets are clear of life. Her target stands on a plinth, just inside the cold sodium-yellow lighting of a streetlight and the reach of the MP sentry’s eyes: a hunched steel shape like a huddled sentinel, twin guns pointed up to the sky in an eternal salute.

M42 “Duster” self-propelled anti-aircraft gun. Crew of six: a driver, gunner, sight setter, two loaders, and commander; four in times of combat. Serial number 256-1733. Formerly of the US Army. Service history: Korea, Vietnam, Japanese Ground Self-Defense Force. Currently decommissioned as a memorial outside XXXX Military Base. All of this she knows, drawn from the small network of websites dedicated to the old veterans, men and machine alike.

This particular Duster, however, is unique. It is the center point of a twist in reality, a few threads of data where there should be none. Why?

Yuki has her own theories. Only a few days ago in a school clubroom Haruhi had engaged the rest of the Brigade in a discussion about life. In her usual way she ignored the objections of the other club members and the laws of biology. Don’t memories and thoughts have a life of their own, she had asked, if they can spread and reproduce so quickly? And what about ships? Everyone calls the Mikasa and the Yamato “her”. What’s up with that? I mean, you don’t need a biological body to be alive, right? They’re like stories, like ghosts!

She’s been reading ghost stories, then, somebody answered laconically. Around Haruhi, stories were important. They had a tendency to take on a life of their own and standing orders were to investigate and rectify any data corruptions that might grow out of them.

That was when Yuki first detected the anomaly, an almost-imperceptible glow of information against the flow of background noise. It is nothing like the extradimensional parasites that she had drawn away from Rousseau the terrier, nothing like the Cave Cricket that had inhabited the pocket dimension of the SOS website. Nothing alive, she is certain. Nevertheless...

Nevertheless, there is something in that vehicle. Of all the places and all the reasons in the world, why here?

The sentry in his booth spares her a close look, sees no intent to vandalize, and decides she is no threat. The bulk of the armored vehicle stands close in front of her. It is obviously old, a product of a war long past, but it is well-painted and well-maintained by the base staff. The twin gun barrels were long ago plugged with concrete, the gas tank emptied and coated with a thin film of protective oil. By all logic the vehicle should be cold yet the warmth from within is palpable -– not physically but mentally, like the afterglow of a story. Yuki extends her hand close to the steel skirt, reads the ghost of the information contained within.

Fragments of memories, worn and faded, stream beneath its surface. Each in itself is incomplete, makes little sense. Yuki concentrates on the few most vivid memories, focuses on the images and the sensations.

…it is 1953, the same year of its birth, at a place called Pusong, and for the first time the soldiers in the camp are being mated up with their armored vehicles. Although whispers circulate of an impending ceasefire, the soldiers here don’t believe it. For them the rest in Pusong is merely a chance to replenish their men and materiel before they return to the fire. Frost lines the few remnants of greenery and ice crackles underfoot, the dirt assembly ground long since churned to mud by grinding treads; although it is early spring, a gentle sprinkle of snow is drifting downwards. Vehicle number 256-1733 is fresh out of the factory, assigned to Fourth Platoon. The emotions around it are confusing and conflicting: the grim calmness of the staff/logistics officers shepherding the men and machines to their allotted places, the sadness and rage of the veteran soldiers under the white fuzziness of exhaustion, the shock of the new troops as the realization hits like a blizzard.

Amidst the order masquerading as chaos the commander, a scruffy little man whose clean olive-drab fatigues are belied by his scuffed boots and scratched holster, strides up to the assembled crew. This will be their new home, he is saying—-roaring—-so pay attention. Before they can consider themselves armored cavalry, they must drill, drill, drill until they are as familiar with their armored vehicle as they are with themselves. It is small, it is lightly armored, it is government-issued (and hence built by the lowest bidder and they know what that means), and it will save their lives if they know what to do with it. Else it will be their funeral pyre, and there is a flicker of a memory from the commander: a burning M41 Walker Bulldog, a narrowly escaped deathtrap whose hull lines might have been a sister to that of the vehicle parked in front of him. The assembled crewmen suppress a shudder: they know the little man is speaking from experience…

The memory blurs, fades. A thread of memory flickers feebly as Yuki traces it. The memories and stories in the vehicle are linked by association more than chronology, and amidst a flurry of sensation she reaches another memory, years away from the landing in Korea.

…1963, Rio Hato, the Panama Canal Defense Zone. Half a world away a war is smoldering in the jungle, gradually increasing in size and scope as the superpowers turn their attention to the former French colony called Vietnam. But here, above the underlying anxiety that is a soldier’s lot, the mood is festive if exhausted. For the past month the Army has been running its own war, regiment against regiment, a bloodless conflict where pride and experience was on the line. Now it is ENDEX time at last.

Somewhere in the humid tropical night a voice is boasting, a crew member of vehicle number 256-1733. Little, is it? Cute, is it? says the voice, somewhat drunkenly. Well, big man in your big tank, let’s see your Patton manage a solid month in that jungle without a single visit to the repair yard. How many of your big shiny M60s could boast of that? And say all you want about that final push up that hill: who was the first out of the mudhole? Who was it that bailed you out, back in that goddamned swamp, when the Red Force flyboys showed up? That Duster, right the hell there, that’s who!

There is more laughter, perhaps a gentle shove or two, as one of the tankers reply somewhat indistinctly. Now the soldiers are in view, strutting proudly if a little unsteadily. One of them, the vehicle commander, flashes a grin. He stops to give his vehicle an affectionate pat. “Duster” is right, he says. It’s nearly brown with caked dust. How’s that? I give you a toast, gentlemen: to hardy, cute, little Dusty! And long may she serve! The men’s laughter and camaraderie is sealed amidst the clink of bottles.

The very next day Dusty’s transmission fails on the way to the maintenance depot. For thirty minutes she sits idly by the roadside, accompanied by a masterfully creative display of invective from the same soldier who had sung her praises so loudly the previous night. The vehicle commander stands beside him, one hand draped over his eyes in wry resignation.

She, Yuki notes. Not it. Just like Yamato, just like Mikasa. She pauses briefly to absorb the picture of the vehicle commander, that familiar stance that she herself has often seen, then with an almost imperceptible gesture continues along the data trail. Again memory blurs and fades, but twists and turns more urgently amidst jungle and vegetation, anxiety and fear…

…it is April 1968, on a jungle trail known only as Route Nine, and Dusty is in a world of noise. Above there is the whup-whup of Marine Hueys flying through the cloud cover; the horizon flickers and rumbles with distant thunder as over a hundred big guns lay down a barrage. For the past two months the Battle of Khe Sanh has been a household phrase, and Operation Pegasus -– the mission to break the siege and relieve the Marine defenders –- is finally underway.

The cacophony of motors is enormous amidst the sauna heat of the jungle. Crew members must shout at each other over the intercom system, over the rumble of the motor and the grind of the treads. It is midmorning when she first comes under fire –- bullets that clatter off the armor like hailstones, the whoosh of a rocket as it passes close overhead, the rattle and crump of machine guns and cannon. The raw emotions of the men are overwhelming -– the brassy taste of fear and the keen coldness of adrenaline, nightmarishly unreal in the heat and noise.

Orders crackle over the radio, numbers and names that somehow manage to tell the story, connect the threads of the war. Dusty lurches to the right; there is a glimpse of a companion vehicle close behind, all guns blazing, while radios chatter and men scream…

…out into a clearing, and everything is done by impressions and glimpses: the immobilized helicopter at a tilted, crazy angle, its blades bent and broken; the pale sweaty men sheltering behind; the crack of a recoilless rifle and flash of a tracer projectile. Almost without a conscious thought Dusty’s commander orders his crew into action; the 45-ton vehicle accelerates, maneuvers between the enemy recoilless rifle and the downed helicopter as her turret slews around. There is a resounding clang and a flash of pain: one of the enemy projectiles score a glancing blow but the muzzle flash gives away the gun crew’s position: the commander scans, locks eyes with his enemy counterpart, and there is an eternal heartstopping moment before the recoilless gun and its crew disappear in fountains of dirt and smoke, and against the blast and noise of the twin Bofors cannons the commander’s calm burns like ice. Then the gunner looks up and there is blood on his hand from a fragment that had nicked his arm –- that is where the pain had come from, he is saying dazedly, thank God for her armor. There is a brief impression of waving, cheering men from the downed helicopter, sudden exhaustion as the adrenaline rush leaves, and Dusty is surrounded by olive-green vehicles and men.

Again Yuki pauses. She stands stock-still for a moment replaying fragments of that memory. There is something hauntingly familiar in that scene, something that she has personally experienced. It takes her a moment to place it: the same sensation of heat and coldness, the grim knowledge of blocking an enemy’s fire in the only way possible. Of course.

The memory trail has gone colder. There are a hundred impressions of battle and heat, relief and shame as Dusty withdrew from the jungle, waited in a maintenance depot. A brief impression of a cargo derrick, more training scenes, more new recruits under a different flag and a different language, and finally –- one last coherent memory, amidst a world of white.

…very recently, only a few years ago—-unlike the previous memories, there is no indication of the date. The sky is slate-gray; the first few snowflakes are drifting down, and Dusty is sitting on the concrete plinth. Many of her sisters have been sent to the scrapyard already, and it is 256-1733’s lucky fate to be chosen as a “gate guard”. There are no more Dusters serving under the Japanese or American flags.

Against the thinning background crowd, one person in particular stands out. She is short and slender, her silhouette padded by her parka, her hair reaching down to her waist. She stares at Dusty with alert, intelligent eyes, the imagination-filled eyes of a child. I wonder what you are? she seems to be asking, or perhaps imagining: it is hard to tell. What have you been through –- what stories do you have to tell?

The glimpse is short -– a moment later the child’s parents whisk her away. As she walks Dusty notes the flash of the yellow ribbons in her hair. A moment later the flakes begins to fall in earnest, coating the lone sentry on its pedestal with the sensation of fresh snow.

A smile steals onto Yuki’s lips as she reaches out to brush a fingertip against the steel. Where she touches it a spark snaps into life, a glimpse of warm light that completes the reality overwrite, seals the twist in reality, weaves together the last few threads of the vehicle’s story. She senses rather sees the form of her accomplishment. Behind the armored shell of the Duster, the newly-completed data spirit of its embodiment floats, shaped over decades of perception by crewmen who had shared their own stories with the vehicle’s: brave and hardy, with the cool precision of machinery and the warmth of life, standing sentry over its sleeping snow-filled world.

Why this particular vehicle?

She can finally answer as the snowflakes begin to tumble downward, her extended hand returning to her side.

Because stories have a life of their own and this one is warm with a hundred stories, woven together with threads of memory and shared experience. Because to live is to remember, and like me…

It is…

Alive.

edited 3rd Jan '11 6:14:47 PM by SabresEdge

"My God, Yuki, you've got to stop drinking." Yuki had no idea where she was. She passed by drills, clowns on gears, and moving stacks of cans. Now, she was in a room with only a conveyor belt as a floor. But, all of a sudden, Metal Man appeared out of nowhere!

"Hey, you're not Mega Man!" shouted Metal Man.

"No, actually I'm Yuki. Can you tell me how to get out of here?"

"I'll tell you how to get out of here if you do me a favor."

"What do you want me to do?"

Metal Man approached Yuki and took off his pants. "It sure does get lonely sitting around here all day, waiting for Mega Man."

Yuki tried to run away, but he grabbed her arms and pulled her down onto the conveyor belt. The rest... well, it's best not to mention the rest.

Everybody loves the Homestar Runner. He is a terrific athlete. One day, in Free Country USA, Homestar Runner was happily skipping along the stick when he saw a strange armored man, who advanced to him and said, "I am DeathSpank, Vanquisher of Evil, Hero to the Downtrodden, and Dispenser of Justice."

"I am the Homestaw Wunnuh," replied Homestar, "and... Ah, get these fwikkin chickens offa me!"

And indeed the chickens did appear out of nowhere, attacking everyone close by. "Ah no problem then," replied DeathSpank as he ran around with his swords and slashed at the chickens everywhere. After all the chickens were slain, something in his inventory was glowing in a bright purple.

"Awwight!" rejoiced Homestar. "You ahe a hewo!"

"Why your compliment is accepted, strange running man," replied DeathSpank as he took out his glowing weapon, which turns out to be the Dildo of Great Pleasure. Homestar looked at it with awe and amazement, his mouth practically watering. "Perhaps you'd like this..."

[the rest is up to your imagination]

edited 4th Jan '11 1:11:38 PM by WartysNeryon

The two images watched each other from the sides of the room. Occasionally, when one thought that they wouldn't be seen, one would glance at the clock. The gray man waited patiently behind the white plastic frame. Eight o'clock would come.

When the hour had passed, the art studio stood quiet. Slowly, the gray man pulled himself from the frame that had served as his home for so long. He looked behind him. Where his featureless face once stood only held darkness.

In two bounds, he stood in front of the painting that held the icy kanji. He paused for a moment. He had refused to meddle with another painting besides his own. Getting caught in another world, another cell, worried him, made him anxious. But, he would not leave the beautiful kanji behind. He reached in and pulled.

A veiled maiden emerged from the white expanse. Her figure was white, save for the frost that covered her veil and robe and the frozen kanji that remained emblazoned chest. She looked behind her, at what she left behind, but the gray man quickly swept her up.

"You'll never go back there again. You're mine now. You're free." The gray man stole a kiss from the maiden before stealing her and himself, disappearing, never to be seen again.

edited 10th Jan '11 6:35:01 PM by yarrunmace

There was a kanji symbol, laying there on a sheet of paper doing nothing. It was all alone until somehow, someone had dropped the Sandvich next to it. However, instead of interacting with each other, they do as other inanimate objects would do: just sit there and do nothing. It was moments later that a person entered, presumably in search of the Sandvich, and he sees the two together. And the gears in his head were turning as he noticed the shape of both objects. Then he decided to take the kanji symbol and stuff it in the Sandvich.

(I'll leave the rest up to you)

edited 11th Jan '11 12:15:38 PM by EarlOfSandvich