Chapter 16 - Climbing the Beane-Stark Tower
Inside the FBI Headquarters in Washington D.C., Dish and Spoon waited on the plastic waiting chairs in the hallway trying not to listen to the murmurs about their failures. Fortunately, the door to the meeting room opened, and pretty but older female secretary stepped out.
"Mister Dish, Mister Spoon," she announced. "They would like to see you now."
Spoon sighed, and quietly hummed a memorial song as he, while carrying his government-issued IBM laptop computer, followed his partner Dish to the dreaded special meeting Dish's father, Joseph Dish, had called in. They sat at the end of the long table, and Spoon opened up and turned on his computer.
For some reason, the meeting room smelled of cigarette smoke. All federal buildings prohibited smoking indoors.
Joseph Dish, or Dish Sr. people commonly referred to him to avoid confusion between him and his son, was the Executive Assistant Director of Criminal Investigative Division. Dish Sr. was essentially the old version of Dish, and he was still handsome in a white, protestant, and conservative kind of way.
To his right at the other end of the table was John Fork, the temporary Executive Assistant Director of Intelligence. Ten years younger than his friend Dish Sr., he still retained his brunette hair color. However, he looked unsavory and had that bigot-like sneer that Spoon found unsettling.
Across from Fork was Assistant Director of the Office of Intelligence, Walter Skinner. He was a bald yet bespectacled smart man, and despite his nerdish appearance he was very much in shape underneath his suit and tie. He was also once a Marine during the Vietnam War, and a couple years back he had the unfortunate task of overseeing Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully in their paranormal investigations. When asked why he didn't protest his assignment, he merely replied that somebody had to do it.
"Shall we begin?" Fork said.
"Certainly Mister Fork," said Dish.
Dish motioned to Spoon. Spoon nodded and went off to pull down the projector screen, dim down the lights, and turn on the digital project connected and controlled by his laptop computer. The first slide in the presentation displayed Becky Wolfe slaying dozens of Mafioso thugs in a happy frenzy.
"Rebecca Maryland Wolfe," started Dish. "AKA Becky, AKA 'The Assassin Saint'. Reported to be twenty-one years of age, and is possibly half-Italian and a quarter Greek. Birthplace unknown. Becky is an expert assassin-mercenary with impeccable skills in the sword, Filipino martial arts, and escapology. Known to be a drinker and a womanizer."
Spoon pushed the button on the computer, and in fancy and noisy transition that taxed the laptop's CPU, the slide switches to a photo of a smiling and cute Red Little.
"Could you please be a little more professional when making your slides?" Fork asked.
"I'm sorry sir," said Dish.
"Now continue on."
Dish continued: "Red Little: age is estimated be around seventeen years, and she is possibly Greek, Turkish, or a hybrid. Real name and birthplace are unknown. It is claimed that she possesses the skills of all the world's martial arts, or rather, had developed it on her own. She is good with a gun, but can use anything as a weapon. She is known to like Britney Spear."
The slide then changes to a collage of the crime scenes described in the first couple of chapters in this novel, Mother Güse Must Die.
"Since our investigation has started, Becky and Red have caused a lot of trouble in the south, starting with the murder of drug-pushers Jackie Caps and Beau Pilkington, the wholesale slaughter of the secret bestiality orgy sect Animal Kamen, and the slaying of the owners of Greta's Ginger Ale House.
"They soon headed to Nashville where they caused the destruction of the house of Jean Owen Biggs, whose relation to the other two famous Biggs sister. They also destroyed the house of Gene Duo Biggs, and caused a lot of trouble with Shania Fau Biggs's mansion and Shock G's fake nose.
"After the death of Shadazz and the slaying of Ronald Stiltzchen, Becky and Red were then joined by a college dropout and Pakistani chemist, Mira Rama, daughter of the deceased Ex-Soviet chemist Mirza Rama. They were also joined by a female Doberman dog who seems to have two penises."
Spoon chuckled. He stopped when everyone's glare was on him.
"Anyway," Dish resumed, "Becky and Red sent Schumacher to our Memphis office after capturing her, and went on to kidnap Ginger Baker, a brilliant hacker who since her enlistment to the group had made our efforts to capture Becky, Red, and Mira a lot more difficult. The group of girls was reported to have slain Jill Ladder in California, who was plotting the death of her husband to collect his assets and his generous life insurance policy.
"But then their operations suddenly took a different turn. At first, we assumed that the killings were done under contract or by random. Reports from Nevada, Texas, Europe, and Canada stated that they were on a mission to retrieve a certain item from seemingly small-time criminals while causing the usual mayhem in their wake. The damages from their clandestine operations have resulted in the billions."
"Very interesting," smiled Fork, "but could you explain to me why you helped them in the Winnipeg River incident?"
"Well, um, it's just that the Winnipeg Gay Mafia were planning to poison the river with a special irritant that causes intense itching... in the groin area. Then they would be the ones who would sell the shampoo antidote."
"We had to combine our efforts to stop them," added Spoon.
"Which was never proven since the evidence in question has yet to be found," said Fork.
Skinner frowned and discreetly bit his lip. He knew well that that was being covered up.
"Despite their reappearance in the Gothel Tower in Nashville," continued Fork, "there should be clear evidence that they should be hiding nearby. Yet, you two remain one step-behind."
"Forgive us," said Dish. "It's just that these group of girls are really good at covering their tracks. Their methods are highly organized, yet chaotic enough to throw us off. But I am certain that there is a connection between all these attacks all over the world, and it has something to do with a glass slipper."
"You almost sound as passionate as Agent Mulder. But at least he closed his cases despite the lack of explanation of his paranormal testimonies."
Fork turned and faced his friend Dish Sr., who had been thinking deeply throughout the whole presentation.
"What do you think sir?" Fork asked. "Shall we remove them from the investigation?"
Dish Sr. sighed. He looked across to glance at his son's expression. It wasn't desperate, so it could go either way upon the utterance of his decision. But more than likely, Dish desperately wanted to be relieved of his arduous assignment. However...
"I understand that you are stressed, son," said Dish Sr. "I am also stressed. Stressed with the constant threat of terrorism, especially when this century draws to a close. Despite the fact that these girls are slaying dangerous criminals does not excuse them from their crimes of vigilantism. If what you say is true that they are gathering something for something greater, then that is not a threat we can overlook. You two will remain on the case. However, I will dedicate four other agents to lighten your workload. The four agents are Ryan Bowl, Steve Knife, Chandra Plate, and Molly Pitcher. Assistant Director Fork and I will also assist you part-time and on important cases."
"Thank you sir," said Dish.
"This meeting is adjourned. Get some rest you two."
Dish Sr. and Skinner left through the back entrance of the meeting room while Fork remained to get coffee. Dish and Spoon reentered the hallway with the scent of cigarette smoke stuck on their suits.
"That was nerve wracking," said Spoon. "But your father seemed to be in a better mood."
"I made up with my wife," said Dish.
Spoon's heart skipped a beat. "I see. So you're doing all right?"
"Yes," Dish replied curtly.
Dish suddenly stopped in the middle of the hallway and clutched his stomach.
"Is something wrong?" Spoon asked.
"That cigarette smoke upsets my stomach. I have to go to bathroom."
"I might as well take a leak then."
Thus, Dish and Spoon together went to the men's restroom. As Spoon calmly walked over to the urinal, Dish dashed into the nearest vacant toilet and locked himself in. Of course, he had to flush it once because the person who was using it before forgot to.
And for some reason, the restroom smelled like cigarette smoke, and it was a familiar one at that. It turned out that someone was right now smoking in one of the toilet stalls.
There was also another man in the stalls besides the smoker and Dish. He sat in the one between them, and he had been there for a long time grunting as he worked the liquefied number two out of his system. Dish immediately recognized the grunts and called out his name.
"Mulder?" spoke Dish.
The man in the middle stall stopped his legs and feet from shaking.
"Why, if isn't Dish!" replied Mulder. "How's it going?"
"Bad," said Dish. "The dinner my wife made is giving me stomach pains. It seems that the cigarette smoke in the meeting room is what triggered."
Mulder knew well where the smoke was coming from, but he decided not to reveal his identity in order to protect his fellow agent.
"Did you get chewed out?" Mulder asked.
"More like consoled for my stress," replied Dish. "People are starting to compare our cases to yours."
"At least yours have a basis on reality."
"Never expect to hear that from you."
"Speaking of comparison, people are starting to make conclusions about you and Spoon."
"There's nothing between us."
Upon zipping up his fly closed, Spoon lowered his head stricken in silent sadness.
"And I take it there's nothing going on between you and Scully," said Dish.
"I'm hoping. At least they'll stop spreading exaggerations about my sister complex."
Mulder sighed really hard.
"I'm sorry," said Dish.
"Anyway," said Mulder, "Scully and I ran into an interesting case a couple of days ago."
"Oh?"
"It seems that the graves of N.M. Cohen, Edna Ferber and James Dean have been dug up. Only a tooth has been stolen from each of them."
"I know who Edna and James are, but who is N.M. Cohen?"
"He is the founder of Giant Food Inc.--the supermarket chain."
"That guy?"
"This wouldn't have anything to do with the tooth stolen from the dead baseball and football players weeks ago, would it?" asked Spoon after he regained his composure.
"Spoon, you're there?" Mulder asked.
"In the flesh."
"I guess somebody wanted to create a collection of celebrity teeth," said Dish.
"But Cohen is not much of a celebrity."
"But teeth do have DNA. Maybe someone's trying to create clones of them?"
"That's brilliant Dish!" Mulder exclaimed.
"It was only a suggestion. I think it is silly to create clones of famous people. They wouldn't be the same."
Mulder grunted and finally let more liquefied feces out. Then he started coughing.
"Why did I have to take Scully out to a Mexican dinner?" he lamented. "In Mexico."
"I sure wish that guy in that stall would stop smoking," said Dish.
Cancer Man or not, thought Mulder, I'm gonna choke that bastard once I clear this out of my bowels.
"I'll talk to him," said Spoon.
Spoon walked over to the stall to the right of Mulder's and knocked on it.
"Sir," he announced. "You're smoking in a non-smoking building. Please put it out or I'll have you escorted out."
The man coughed. Mulder and Dish heard him put his cigarette out in the toilet bowl and flushed it. For Mulder, the smoke was too intoxicating, and smelled of that his nemesis would always smoke, Morley cigarettes. It had to be him, thought Mulder. He's toying with me!
Finally the smoker came out. Instead of a powerful wrinkled old man, it was a middle-aged South American immigrant Pedro--the building's unluckiest janitor.
"Again with the smoking Pedro," groaned Spoon.
Pedro fell to the floor groveling before Spoon's feet.
"I am so sorry Mister Spoon sir!" cried Pedro. "It's just these Morley cigarettes are so good to Pedro's tongue! I don't have to time smoke them during my break!"
Spoon sighed. He pulled Pedro back to his feet and took his pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
"None of us here really don't want to see you go," said Spoon. "You've been a great motivation to all of us, especially me. But you have to follow the rules of the building, or with a heavy heart I will be forced to fire you."
"I won't smoke again Mister Spoon sir! Pedro will quit cold turkey!"
"I have faith in you."
"Thank you Mister Spoon sir!"
After shaking Spoon's hands, Pedro went back to the nearby janitor's closet to grab his cart so he could resume his duty. Spoon took out the cigarettes from the pack, tore them up, and threw them in the trashcan. He then washed his hands.
Meanwhile, Mulder breathed a sigh of relief for he won't have to strangle the infamous Cancer Man's throat. His diarrhea finally stopped, and finished his bathroom experience with a long urination.
Suddenly, Chandra Plate knocked over Pedro and his janitorial cart as she rushed into the men's restroom unannounced.
"Guys!" Plate cried. "We have to move! There is a situation developing in Buffalo!"
Spoon became a bit offended of Plate's presence in a men's-only domain.
Back at the meeting room, Fork began drinking his second cup of coffee. Suddenly he saw at the corner of the eye the three shady old white men of the Syndicate, the group dedicated to hide the existence of extraterrestrials from the world (which has nothing to do with the story... at the moment). He sprayed the coffee out of his mouth in both surprise and in embarrassment.
As he wiped his mouth, he turned to face the wrinkly but cunning Cigarette Smoking Man, the classy Well-Manicured Man, and the Big Italian.
As usual, Cigarette Smoking Man lights up despite the no-smoking policy in federal buildings. He did one inhale, and puffed out the odorous smoke in a moment of nicotine ecstasy.
"That was mighty clever of you to schedule a briefing to ease Joseph's heart," said the Well-Manicured Man.
"It had to be done anyway," Fork timidly replied.
"You're playing with fire by working with that woman," said the Big Italian.
"Once you submit yourself to Darryl, it is for life."
"But you cannot possibly work as a double, or perhaps a triple agent at a time like this," said the Well-Manicured Man.
"Gentlemen, I have things under control."
"I hope you are right," spoke the Cigarette Smoking Man as he advanced towards Fork. "The revival of the lost nation of Tribadia will indeed put a damper on our plans. Güse will have the power to control us, and that is something we do not want."
"I'll agree to that. I will not have a world ruled by a power-hungry lesbian."
"Olde Wolfe-Ears prefers the term 'tribades'," said the Big Italian.
"It looks like your heart is in the right place," said the Well-Manicured Man.
"Do not fail us," said the Cigarette Smoking Man.
"I will not," bowed Fork.
Like smoke, the three men of the Syndicate disappeared through the other entrance. Cigarette Smoking Man had left his burning cigarette on an empty coffee cup.
How would Fork explain the appearance of another Morley cigarette? He had to lay the blame on someone, and that someone was Pedro from South America. Pedro, who had just successfully ridded himself of his nicotine addiction, was then fired, and deported back to whatever country he came from, only to emigrate to Japan for some construction project in a city with an odd yet generic-sounding name. There, he met his destiny--and his doom--by befriending a girl from yet another secretive organization also bent on world domination. That girl, who was improbably energetic up the wazoo, had a first name that was the same as the last.
If you would like to know more about Pedro's further adventures, go read the manga of Excel Saga, or the anime... or look it up on Wikipedia.org...
In downtown Buffalo, New York, there was a gaudy-looking tall office/residential building that was destined to be imploded not because of the gaudy looks. This building built during reckless capitalism and amidst fears of nuclear attack from the Soviet Union during the cold war ear was built with so many asbestos lining that the occupants became ill with cancers or died just for staying there for a month. So instead of removing the asbestos lining, the lazy city administrators decided that it would be best to implode it with great fanfare, just like they would do to old casinos Las Vegas.
Everything of value, including the copper wiring, the glass panels, and the toilet seats were removed from building. Yet there was a long insulated electricity and data line running from the sewer up to the top executive floor. And in that floor was a well-furnished office complete with a safe, a cable Internet connection, cable television, a mini-bar, and a trough for hay.
The target: a glass slipper fragment. It was guarded by the likes of Jeremy Beane, one of the co-owners of the Beane-Stark Media Corporation, which had been bought out by the bastards at BMG. Due to the downsizing, Jeremy Beane was given a severance pay, but that was not enough for his fetish and his ego. Since he was one of Darry Güse's men, he accepted a job to trap Becky in the Beane-Stark tower, as the building was once referred to.
He was not alone. Resting on a couch was the plump Goldie Haw--er, I mean, Goldie Harp, a renowned singer and actress. She was his current girlfriend and his most favorite, for Beane had a sexual fetish with overweight women since his birth. Hollywood, the tabloids, and the media at large were too grossly focused on scandalous and/or heart-wrenching stories of skinny, blonde, and big-breasted white women (and the occasional underage white and blonde girl) to take notice of the countless sordid scandals Beane caused due to his rampant sexual harassment and molestations of fat women and young fat girls. In fact, there was still a pending rape and sexual assault charge being brought against him by a four hundred pound woman. Beane claimed that she came onto him in drunken-rage, which was never true. Beane was the sickest of all fat-loving men. He would literally chew on the fatty skin during intercourse. The sad part of that was that many of his women loved it.
Besides Beane and Goldie Haw--er, Harp, there was also a cow. Not just any cow. This cow, one of his most prized of his employees and the most loyal, was the infamous Man-Eating Cow. So far, he had yet to see the Man-Eating Cow (MEC for short) eat a man. Just in case she would do those, he brought in to his office a trough of formulated cow-feed.
"Do you think they have taken the bait, hon?" asked Harp.
"They have to come," said the average-build Beane. "They come in, become defeated, and Güse will give me her golden eggs."
"Eww..."
"I don't mean it that way. Güse will give me hefty sum of raw gold nuggets for my efforts."
"Well, I hope they come. I don't want to have to get up and get my cell phone to call for pizza delivery while we wait."
"Patience my love. I have a feeling that they will..."
Beane noticed something moving swiftly on the stack of boxy surveillance monitors. He sat back down his desk and played back the last fifteen seconds in slow motion. After seeing the blurred faces of Becky, Red, Mira, Ginger, and their dog HLS, Beane smiled.
"They have arrived, but..."
"But what?" asked Harp.
"The one they call Fat Ass isn't fat. Darryl's report duped me!"
"That is too bad."
"No matter. These bony girls won't survive the trap I laid out for them."
He swiveled his chair to the left and pushed the intercom button. Then he looked up to the monitor close to it where in view was a lab staffed by four men haling from Nashville.
"Are you listening?" Beane called out.
Lead vocalist and guitarist Dann Huff in a lab coat walked up to the intercom on the wall while looking back at the monitoring camera.
"Look, man," said Dann. "This is going out of hand. I mean, we're not scientists."
"Don't you dare try and back out of this. You're still under contract and under my control. Just follow the instructions they gave us."
"All right, fine."
One floor below was the lab. Dann's bandmates, bassist Mike Brigadello, keyboardist Alan Pasqua, and Dann's brother drumist David Huff all carefully read the instructions on the binder notebooks as they flipped the seemingly cryptic switches and typing program commands on their control terminals.
Beane was an awesome planner during the heyday of the Beane-Stark Media Corporation. He had the biotech company known as the Umbrella Corporation to hand him a capsule of the yet-to-be tested P-Virus. The Umbrella Corporation had also worked with Dokusensha of Hong Kong and the British Royal Library to provide Beane with the reviving equipment.
"Are you ready guys?" asked Dann.
"Ready," said David.
"Inject P-Virus into the subjects."
"Injecting P-Virus," said Brigadello.
In the center of the entire floor on top of a tall stand, the large vat of the concentrated and yellow P-Virus drained into its many tubes.
"P-Virus filling the subjects," continued Brigadello. "Beginning with the enhancement process... Done!"
"Proceed with the activation," commanded Dann.
"Sending activation command right now," said Pasqua.
The liquid inside the coffin-like tube capsules bubbled ominously and glowed. Dann and his band mates were surrounded by them, and thus it gave them an uneasy fright. They hoped that the command Pasqua sent to the subjects wouldn't backfire.
In one of the capsules, a baseball-gloved hand slammed onto the glass cover.
"Commencing the drainage," said Pasqua.
"Excellent," Dann smiled, hesitantly. "Operation 'Giant' has now begun."
Thirty minutes after sundown on the abandoned ground floor of the building, the girls, dressed in their sneak suits and filter masks were stuck trying to figure out a way to get up to the next floor. All the stairwells had been exploded and none of the four elevators were working. They returned to the asbestos-dusted lobby to come up with an alternative plan.
"Did you guys come up with an alternative plan?" asked Becky.
"Why are you asking us Sis?" Ginger said. "You're our leader!"
"Well, you are the smart one."
"Indeed I am."
"I guess we'll have to climb up using ropes and grappling hooks. Now let's go outside."
Suddenly, the lights in the elevator button panel on all four elevators lit up. Becky, Red, and Mira gripped their usual weapons in their hands. HLS growled, and Ginger hid behind her colleagues hugging her laptop and knocking her knees in fear.
Finally something came down. The elevator doors opened, and out poured a total of twenty-four men, six from each elevator. Eight of them were dressed in New York Giants football uniforms and gear, another eight were dressed in San Francisco Giants baseball uniforms, and the remaining eight dressed in Yomiuri Giants baseball uniforms, which looked very similar to that of the San Francisco Giants.
"These are our opponents?" Becky asked.
"Something's wrong with them," noted Mira.
As the twenty-four Giants surrounded them with evil eyes and snarling faces, the girls noticed that their equipment were modified for the full intent to kill. The New York Giant's football helmets and shoulder pads were now steel, and at least two of them had bladed titanium footballs as a weapon and as defense. The baseball teams of the San Francisco Giants and the Yomiuri Giants carried crooked golden metal bats for the heavy hitters, steel baseball gloves with retractable talons and baseball grenades for the pitchers, infielders, and outfielders, and reinforced composite metal masks, chest protectors, shin guards, and catcher's mitt for the armored catchers. But it wasn't just their equipment that was imposing. All of the football and baseball player's blood content was thirty-three percent steroids and thirty-three percent P-Virus. Their muscles and veins bulged monstrously.
"Usually at this point, some Japanese pervert manga artist would use this as a set up for a gang-bang rape doujinshi," Becky snickered.
"Don't give them any ideas," Mira smiled uneasily. "Although I sometimes wonder what would be the point? They're already enhanced zombies, with no will of their own, so it would be moot for them to have any sexual satisfaction. There is also a good chance that their nerves to their sexual functions, i.e. their penises and testes, have been severed."
"Wait a sec," Ginger said. "I recognize these guys. They're the Giants!"
"We know," said Becky.
"But these guys should be dead! I heard on the sports gambling forums that their bodies have been dug up and only their teeth were stolen."
"I heard of a project to create superclones of great people," said Mira. "I never thought they would go this far."
HLS growled even louder.
"By the smell of things," Mira added, "they have been injected with the P-Virus."
"The P-Virus?" Becky said.
"It's an artificially-enhanced natural virus that is supposed to enhanced the test subject greatly by altering their genetic makeup on-the-fly. It's still in the testing stages."
"Looks like there is more than one secretive conglomerate organization bent on world-domination involved in this."
"Don't just stand there talking!" Ginger screamed. "I command you to destroy the Giants! And cut off their ding-dongs while you're at it."
"Way ahead of you!"
With her Shinseiki glimmering in the moonlight, Becky charged forward to the Japanese Yomiuri Giants and quickly sliced past their crotch cups and utterly pulverized their manhood. She stepped back defensively and to see that her attack did not falter Yomiuri Giants one bit.
"That didn't work," Ginger said.
"At least it prevented the manga artists from getting further ideas," said Becky.
"Then do the rest of them!"
The Yomiuri Giants lunged at them in with a battle cry. Becky bravely took the initiative and defended the rest of her teammates with her sword skills. Red cleverly kicked the hanging prosthetic nose from HLS's collar, caught it in a snap, and threw it fast at the glove of one of the San Francisco Giants. HLS became enraged, and she dashed in to rip the crotch cups and their manhood from the SF Giant's bodies.
Red, Mira, and Ginger kept close to each other to avoid charging New York Giants and their deadly footballs. Despite firing a precise shot into their heads, Red could not kill them because not only they were, in a sense dead, they were also artificially enhanced through the P-Virus and whatever technology Mira mentioned.
"They won't go down," said Red.
"I guess I'll have to use the NS-Destroyer," said Mira. "But you'll have to help me Red."
"Okay!"
Mira pulled from her equipment bag two special magazines full of fifteen rounds of NS-Destroyer exploding bullets. Red shot two more shots at their assailants and immediately ejected partially filled magazines from her two FN Browning Pistols and accepted Mira's magazine rounds.
"Try to fire at an exposed skin," said Mira. "If you can't do that, fire on the least absorbent part of the clothing."
"Sis!" Ginger cried. "Fall back!"
"Right!" cried Becky.
Becky shoved off the crooked bat-wielding heavy hitters of the baseball players away and pulled HLS from the fight. As the two leapt over the football players, Red quickly fired the special bullets. The bullets shattered upon contact of their skin and splattered some green liquid that looked kind of like Gatorade, Powerade, some other heavily marketed neon-colored commercial sports drink. Soon the Giants started to fall apart literally due to the NS-Destroyer bullets, which, as the acronym stands, were destroying the nervous system vital for the control and regulatory functions of their bodies.
"Great job Red-chan!" Becky said.
"Arf!" said HLS.
Suddenly, the floor above Red exploded. Red pushed Ginger and Mira away, but she did not realize it exploded in a way just to ensnare her. From up above, Dann and his band members of the American rock group Giant fired a net from the net catcher gun and reeled Red quickly upward. Becky attempted to stop them by throwing her knives, but the rock group Giant escaped through the elevator.
"Ginger!" Becky cried. "Hack that elevator!"
Before Ginger could even acknowledge the order, the nearby elevators exploded.
"Shit!" Becky cursed.
"Can you hear me?" echoed Beane's voice.
Becky and the girls looked around floor. The echoed voice apparently came from a small speaker somewhere on the second floor.
"What do you want?" Becky asked.
"The elevator furthest from you is in working condition," said Beane. "Take it or else."
Becky spat as she sheathed her Shinseiki. Followed by Mira, Ginger, and HLS, she ran over to the other side of the floor and approached an elevator that had just landed with its doors open. They went inside. The doors closed, and they were taken up while listening to power rock music. All three of the girls and their dog took of their filter masks.
"Yet again, we walk into another trap," noted Ginger.
"Not much I can do about it," said Becky. "I guess we'll have to play Beane's game."
"Or I could hack into the elevator system and take us to the top."
"Don't try it. They probably have the entire building under their control."
"So who's disturbing video from the past will we be watching next. Mira's?"
"Um, I'm not so sure that is possible."
"They wouldn't pull that shit again," said Becky.
The elevator grinded to a halt at the fifth floor. The doors slid open, and Becky jumped out first with her sword before her. The entire floor was dark until it suddenly lit up. The outer walls that were supposed to have windows were now replaced with colorful 70's style insulating panels. There were two strange contraptions taking up almost the entire length of the eastern wall, and each of them looked like a badly drawn version of the Swiss Alps taking up the entire wall to their left. Standing between and front of them were two men. One of them was a normal-looking East Coast man in a blue-striped suit, and the other is a giant ogre-like man dressed in a brown suit and had blue-white skin. That latter didn't look alive.
"Come on down!" cried the blue-suited man, "you're our next contestant in the--"
"Shut the fuck up!" Becky yelled.
She took one step towards the man, and nearly fell through a trap door in front of her.
"Don't even try it!" he said. "Or else your seventeen-year-old Lolita will die."
"What do you want?" Becky asked.
"I am N.M. Cohen, and to my right is my business partner Samuel Lehrman."
"Samuel Lehrman wants some pants too!" cried Samuel.
"Unfortunately, the P-Virus didn't work too well for him, so he's just some dumb zombie clone. As for me, I am a superior Prototype I-Jin[i], or Pijin for short, with enhanced powers!"
"Pigeon?" Becky said. "Who are these guys?"
"Never heard of 'em," said Ginger.
"What?" cried Cohen. "You never heard of the founders of Giant Food Inc.?"
"That reminds me; I have been using your company's stocks in my quest to screw with the stock market--and I've also set fire some of your grocery warehouses."
"You wench! You shall be my new challenger!"
"I accept! What's the game old man?"
"We're playing the Russian Roulette Price is Right[ii]! Your two friends, your dog, and my partner will be the sacrifices on the two Cliffhanger scoreboards!"
"Duh, why is Samuel Lehrman a sacrifice?" asked Samuel.
"Shut-up and get on the damn ride."
"I guess we have to leave things up to Ginger now," Becky sighed as she sheathed her sword.
Mira ran and held both of Ginger's hands.
"Ginger, I'll be rooting for you!" said Mira.
Cohen disabled the trapdoors long enough for Becky, Mira, and HLS, to walk over to the Cliffhanger scoreboard on the left, which was a large mountain slope prop with a rollercoaster-like car at the bottom. The ogre-like Samuel Lehrman took the one on the right, and he barely fits into the car. The safety rail ratcheted down and pins them inside. They cannot get out.
Just then, five horrific-looking and skinny zombie supermodels in dresses of red, black, yellow, pink, and blue, lumbered to the sides of Cohen.
"Barker's Beauties aren't dead yet," said Becky. "Are they?"
"Here are the rules of the game," smiled Cohen. "Each of us will be given a pair of dice that we roll in our Nazi-Yahtzee cup. We move towards the second elevator by following the designated path indicated by the lighted tiles. Each tile brings up a challenge that we have to accomplish, whether it is guessing the price of a product, answering a trivia question, or completing a puzzle. The tiles are in constant rotation, so if you land on the one I was one, it will issue you a different challenge."
"This sounds more like a demented game of Trivial Pursuit than the Price is Right," said Ginger.
"Of course, if you lose the challenge on the tile, there will be a penalty. First, your friends on the Cliffhanger will move up on the mountain. After they reach the top, one wrong move will plunge them into a trapdoor below laid out with spikes and explosives. Second, the tile will deal a punishment blow. It won't kill you at first, but after repeat punishments your life will be on the line. If you die, your friends will die as well.
"The object of the game is to get to the second elevator first. If you win, I'll let you pass. If you lose, well, you and your friends will die."
"Ask me the questions cloned-undead quizmaster! I can answer anything you throw at me! I'm the Gingerbread Grrl! The most brilliant evil genius in this entire stupid universe!"
"I think we've really walked into a trap," sighed Becky. "We're all doomed."
"Please have faith in Ginger," said Mira.
"I just hope she doesn't turn tail and run."
"Let us begin the game!" announced Cohen.
Cohen and Ginger met up at the starting tile. The zombie supermodels gave each of them a Nazi version of the Yahtzee cup and a pair of dice made out of bone samples from famous Golden Era Hollywood actors, such as Clark Cable, Marilyn Monroe, James Belushi, and Chris Farley. To determine who goes first, both rolled their dice in their dice in the cups and slammed it on the ground. They lifted the cups, and Cohen got the highest number of twelve.
"This thing's rigged!" Ginger cried. Most probably, it was.
Cohen made his roll, and advanced five spaces. The tile was a quiz question, and the projector laid out all over the ceilings broadcasted the question onto the tile in front of him. The question asked him a ridiculously easy question, which was, "What is the third planet in the Solar System?"
"Earth," smiled Cohen.
A fanfare of bells and chimes rang throughout low-quality speakers, and Cohen bowed to the emotionless zombie supermodels. Thus, no punishment was given to him.
"My turn!" Ginger announced.
Ginger rolled a seven. She then picked up her dice and cup and skipped passed Cohen. The tile in front of her projected a price value question, something that seemed very easy for Ginger. That was, until it was asking for the price of a box of macaroni, circa 1954, as presented by the zombie supermodels. The object was to guess its price without going over or under ten cents its original value.
"Um, let's see," Ginger thought out loud. "It is 1954 dollars or 1999 dollars? Can I get a lifeline?"
"This isn't Who Wants to Be A Millionaire!" screamed Cohen.
"Can I ask my friends?"
"We don't know!" cried Becky.
"You can't!" cried Cohen. He then pulled out a Palm Pilot PDA out of his pocket and displayed before his opponent. "I control the game, you hear?"
"You're not being fair," said Ginger. "I smell bitchy bias."
"Just play the game!"
"Okay, okay. Let's see. A box rancid 1954 macaroni would be... seventy cents!"
The zombie supermodels revealed the price--it was fifty cents.
"What the fuck!"
"The punishment is Rusty Barbells!" cried the zombie supermodel in black.
The ceiling above Ginger opened and dropped a bevy of rusty one-pound barbells onto her. Usually this won't hurt an ordinary person, but for Ginger it hurts like hell. Cohen pointed at her and laughed, and Ginger got ready to throw a barbell at him. Cohen held up his Palm Pilot as a reminder of his control of the situation.
"One press of the button and your friends are dead," he said.
Ginger could do nothing but fume and growl.
"As Ginger said," Becky noted, "we are fucking doomed."
So began Ginger's painful trial across the human-sized game board of an inappropriately named game. Cohen advanced across and got easy challenges, all of which he got right, while Ginger received the extremely difficult ones, all of which she got wrong. She was hit in the head by a mallet, electrocuted, cut by paper, and scorched by a flamethrower. In the middle of the board, almost all clothes were ripped off by robotic claws and was now reduced to just to her underwear (much to Mira's wet delight). From then on, Ginger was bitten by ants, exposed to poison ivy, exposed to gas that made her eyes water and stomach puke, punched in the stomach by a life-size jack-in-the-box, ear drums almost blasted out by Hanson's "mmm bop" played at high volumes, doused with really cold water that contained angry snapping crabs and lobsters, her skin rubbed onto agitating in-wall foam insulators, indecently fondled by movie tentacles from the Jim Henson Creature Shop, and had both ankles sprained by a radio-controlled scale model gas-powered truck. All of these punishment devices appeared from underneath the tiles around her and underneath her, and sometimes they came from the ceiling or the other side of the entire floor.
Ginger and Cohen were now three-quarters from the starting tile and were fast approaching the second elevator finishing line. Cohen remained unscathed and two spaces ahead, while Ginger was on her knees almost naked, bruised, bleeding, broken, and trying to get back up. Meanwhile, Mira and Becky were pretty close to the top of their mountain slope. Becky sighed, while Mira wrestled to control herself inside the car. Samuel Lehrman remained on the bottom of his slope.
"Had enough?" Cohen cried.
"I'm still fucking alive," growled Ginger.
"Very well. I'm moving on."
Cohen rolled. He got a two. He snapped in fingers in disappointment, but remained confident that he would win. He moved two spaces, and received a simple challenge. This requited him to identify amongst ten similarly drawn cartoon aliens two of which that look exactly alike. He identified them right away. After the winning fanfare, he wiped his brow.
"That was close," he said. "Your turn."
Ginger got back up on her feet and shook her dice in her Nazi-Yahtzee cup. She got a five. After picking up her materials, she lumbered across the lighted tiles and one space ahead of Cohen.
"Five," said Ginger.
"By the way," said Cohen, "the punishments at this stage of the game are even more deadlier. Live bullets, real blades, nerve gas, and more powerful electricity will be used. You may actually die in one hit."
Mira quaked in her seat. "You were planning this all along!"
"I wasn't required to be fair ladies. The real problem lies with your friend. It seems that she is not as smart as she claims to be."
"Just hand me the damn challenge," said Ginger.
The tile in front of her lit up to display a quiz question--a fairly difficult one. It asked, "What color amethyst turns to when exposed to heat?"
Ginger turned to back to Mira for an answer. Mira knew the answer, but she could not communicate it. She tried to gesture it, but found nothing around her limited position that was of use.
"Timez uup!" cried one of the zombie supermodels.
"Um, green?" Ginger said.
"W-wrong! The punishment is a shot by a M1 Garand Military Rifle!"
"Ginger!" Mira screamed.
The zombie supermodel in the yellow dress drew out an old military rifle, loaded a single bullet, and aimed it at Ginger. Ginger looked around for an escape, then saw that an array trapdoors appeared at her sides. The zombie fired her gun. Ginger was struck and fell face forward bleeding very badly.
Cohen laughed. Mira wrestled inside her car whilst hitting Becky and HLS in a bid to escape.
"Looks like this Gingerbird is dead!" cried Cohen. "I win the game!"
"No!" Mira screamed.
"It looks you three are next!"
"Aw..." croaked a voice.
Cohen stood still. He slowly turned back around and looked at Ginger's almost naked body, which was twitching.
"Aw..."
"This can't be," he said.
"Aw... fuck..." croaked Ginger. "My... butt..."
Mira's face lit up at the same time she wetted her panties in passion. She looked over and saw Ginger slowly rising to her knees.
"How did you--" gasped Cohen.
"I just allowed the bullet strike my butt," smiled Ginger. "It hurts more than anything I ever felt before, yet I am as calm as Chevy Chase's career."
Ginger turned her head at Cohen and glared back with an evil smile.
"What the fuck are you staring at?" she asked. "Roll the dice!"
"Very well," huffed Cohen. "I'll still survive and win this game!"
Cohen rolled his dice and got a five. He advanced five spaces with a confident smile. His challenge was a quiz question, and it asked:
"In the anime Revolutionary Girl Utena, the main character, Utena Tenjou, goes to what school?"
Cohen's smile disappeared. Sweat appeared on his forehead, and he rested his chin on his thumb and finger in thought.
"How is this possible?" he said. "All of the questions I should receive should be easy. Yet I get something as obscure as Japanese animation?"
"Timez uup!" cried the zombie supermodel in the black dress.
"Would it be...Crossroads Junior High?"
"Bzzt! Wrong! The punishment is be shot by a rocket launcher, a Gatling gun, and siege crossbow!"
"Rocket launcher? I didn't order a rocket launcher, Gatling gun, or a siege crossbow! What is going on?"
"You lose, buddy," smiled Ginger. "Thank you for playing Russian Roulette Price is Right."
Ginger got back on her feet and slowly stepped away from a stunned Cohen. Trapdoors opened all around him. Meanwhile, the zombie supermodels began hauling into view the rocket launcher, carried by the one in the red dress, the Gatling gun, carried by the ones in the yellow and pink dresses, and the wooden siege crossbow, carried by the ones on the black and blue dresses.
They took aim. Cohen pulled out his Palm Pilot PDA and began pressing the touch-screen buttons incessantly until his control stylus broke.
"What are you girls doing?" he cried. "You're supposed to be under my command! End program!"
The giant arrow of the siege crossbow launched and impaled Cohen in the chest. He remained alive since he was a Pijin. Then Gatling gun fired its endless round of bullets, putting holes all over his body. Despite him falling apart, he still remained alive. Finally, the rocket launched from its launcher, and finally hits Cohen. He was finally blown into pieces.
"Cohen-sama!" cried Samuel.
Suddenly, his car shot up the slope and fell off the top. The trap door opened below him, and giant ogre-like man fell into the pit of spikes and exploding explosives. At the same time, the zombie supermodels became limp and collapsed into dust.
The safety rail was lifted up, freeing Becky, Mira, and HLS from their car. They leapt off their slope and ran towards Ginger who had just collapsed. Mira arrived first to cradle Ginger in her bosom.
"Ginger!" she cried. "Are you all right?"
"Ow, stop!" Ginger wailed. "I'm cut, shot, burned, bruised, bleeding, and wet!"
"Sorry! I'll stop shaking you. I'll fix you up right in a jiffy."
"Pretty clever of you to toy with Cohen when you had the upper hand at the beginning."
"Too bad I didn't fool you," said Ginger. "I just that I had no other way to use you guys as a shield."
"What are you guys talking about?" Mira asked.
"It just so happens that Ginger switched her PDA with Cohen's PDA right when she passed him the first time," explained Becky.
"After remembering the program code," Ginger continued, "I switched our PDAs back at the next pass. Then I discreetly rewrote the zombie and the floor control program on my PDA and did some clever hacking to make him convince that he was in control. Of course, I could have kept it anyway since he was too cocky to notice the switch."
"How did you hide your PDA?" asked Mira.
"As taught by the Muffin Woman, I cleverly hid it in my pussy."
Mira closed her eyes and moaned softly in utter arousal. Then suddenly she wrapped her arms tightly around Ginger and began hugging her while shaking her.
"You are so cool Ginger!" she squealed.
"What part of 'stop' do you not understand?" Ginger wailed.
Mira quickly patched up Ginger's wounds and wrapped a long string of bandages almost around her entire body. Ginger looked like a mummy--a sexy one at that. Mira lifted Ginger up and carried her on her back to great delight. Mira followed Becky and HLS to the second elevator. Once inside, the elevator took them up to their next challenger.
Red could have sworn that something stinks. Then there was this licking of her feet. She laughed and giggled until she woke up on the couch. She was now face-to-face to the Man-Eating Cow, which seemed pretty cute and non-violent. Maybe it only eats men.
"Where am I?" she asked.
"You're in my tower," announced Beane with a shot glass in his hand, "the Beane-Stark Tower. It's too bad I'm going to demolish it with your friends in it."
"Don't do anything rash little girl," said Harp, who lied across on the other couch eating Pringles brand chips while drinking very expensive wine. "You can't get to them through the elevator. Beane has the entire building under his control."
"And you have met my most strongest guard, the Man-Eating Cow!"
"Moo," said the MEC.
"You can't possibly escape from our clutches--not at this moment though. Just sit back and watch the security monitors as my second Pijin ensnares your precious Olde Wolfe Ears."
Red sat up. As she watched Harp eat, she could not help but notice that she looked very familiar.
"Hey aren't you..."
Harp choked.
"It has to be! You are--"
"I'm not her!" cried Harp. "We just look alike, that's all!"
Even Red could see that she was lying.
They reached the twelfth floor. When the door slid opened, Becky saw paradise. Lined up against the walls and in the middle of the room was tables full of all matters of whiskey bottles stacked four high. She could no longer resist her slobbering, and dashed towards the nearest bottle.
"Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooze!" Becky screamed.
"Fucking doomed," said the sexy Ginger-mummy.
Becky heard a gun click. A bullet was fired towards her feet, and she jumped back in time to avoid it. Emerging from behind one of the tables was a young woman dressed in an olive-green 1920's dress and a rounded hat. In her mouth was blue cigarette pipe holding a smoking cigarette. In her hand was a Colt M1911 semi-auto pistol.
"Please don't touch that," she said. "That's for the game. Don't forget that my boss has a hostage."
"Let me guess, you're also a Pigeon," said Becky.
"Pijin. Please get your pronunciation right. Anyway, my name is Edna Ferber, your next challenger."
"No way," gasped Mira.
"You know this woman?" asked Becky.
"Of course! She's famous novelist who won the Pulitzer Prize for So Big. Her other novel, Giant, was made into a movie where James Dean lasted stared in."
"I take it you have read many of my books," smiled Edna.
"You're one of my favorite authors Miss Ferber. I cannot believe that you would turn so evil."
"Evil? I don't think I'm evil. It is the world that is evil, girl. It seems that things are getting worse with U.S. Americans electing white male Protestant idiots as President amidst governmental and capitalist cronyism. Only a brilliant woman such as Darryl Güse will put this corrupt world in order."
"So you're working for her, aren't you?" growled Becky as she puts her hand on the handle of her sword.
"To some extent, almost everyone is working for her, even if you fight against her. I am sad that there will be sacrifices made to create her new world order, but it must be done. If you three have to be killed in the process, then I will gladly do the job. However, I will give you guys a chance to prove your righteousness in the challenge I offer you."
"What is this challenge?" Becky asked.
"Come, I will show you."
Edna led Becky, Mira, Ginger, and HLS to a square chamber defined by the tables of filled whiskey bottles. In that chamber was a couch towards the rear, two leather lounge chairs with two carts next to it, a 27" Somy television on a stand containing a VCR and a pile of videotapes.
"Here is the challenge," began Edna, "it's a simple drinking game."
"Ooh, I love drinking games!" Becky cried out.
"Each player will watch Japanese Animation pornography that focuses on tentacle rape."
Ginger's eyes opened. "Tentacle rape? Anime?"
"When a tentacle rape scene comes up, the player must keep on drinking whiskey until the scene ends. There can be no long pauses during the scene. A toilet break is allowed at the end of the movie, and you can only drink one bottle of water to replenish your water content. Last one standing wins. If you win, you can use elevator number three to advance up the building to meet the next challenger. If I win, this floor, riddled with explosives underneath, will detonate when I push this button."
Edna pulled out of her pocket to display a card remote--the detonator.
"Don't try to pull a fast one like you did with N.M. Cohen," said Edna. "Although I don't think that will be possible since your hacker is too wounded to do anything."
"You'll get killed along with us," said Mira.
"And all the booze will be gone!" cried Becky.
"It's within my duty. After all, I'm supposed to be dead, yet here I am as a living shadow of my former self. Now, who wants to challenge me?"
"I will!"
"I do not think that would be wise," said Mira. "You may have to be sober for our next Pijin challenger. I have a feeling that he or she may the strongest yet. I've decided that I will challenge Miss Ferber."
"But you're Muslim."
"If I have to save a friend, then I will transgress what is said in the Quran. I'm sure Allah would forgive me."
"Are you sure about that, girl?" said Edna. "I can tell that you don't have the body type to hold your alcohol, and this would most certainly be the first time your will drink so much. Don't forget that I am a Pijin who can hold ten or even a hundred times more alcohol than an ordinary human and still feel sober."
"I'll try my best."
"Mira, you don't really have to," said Becky.
"Miss Wolfe, please take Ginger and rest up."
"And don't touch the drinks!" Edna snapped.
"Damn," said the Becky.
Mira handed the sexy Ginger-mummy to Becky. Becky took Ginger and sat together on the couch with a good view of the television. HLS walked with and sat at the side of the furniture.
"By the way Mira dear, could you drop off your bag of syringes and liquid bullets and disarm yourself all the way," said Edna.
"Sure."
"I'll put my pistol aside in all fairness. However, I will hold on to the detonator."
Mira puts away all her modified pistols and dropped off next to Beck and Ginger her bag containing not just her syringe darts and liquid bullets, but the medical supplies as well. Edna then puts her gun at one of the farthest tables and came back.
Mira and Edna then loaded up their carts of various whiskeys, starting with the ones with the lowest ABV (alcohol by volume), and pushed them next to the lounge chairs next to TV. The chairs were bolted that they could not move. They were positioned so that each player in the drinking game can see both the movie and each other at the same time.
"A tentacle rape marathon!" exclaimed Ginger. "Man, I sure wish I was in the drinking game."
"You can't hold your liquor and you know it," said Becky.
"But all these booze around you and not a drop to drink... I bet you're suffering inside, aren't ya Sis?"
Becky turned around and looked at the whiskey bottles behind her. She quickly turned back around to plant her eyes on the television hoping to avoid the temptation. The bottles were behind her and within arms-reach.
Ginger grinned, for this would be an opportunity to mess with Becky's thirst.
The anime movies consisted of the following: twelve tapes from the Urotsukidoji saga, four tapes of the La Blue Girl saga, the movie Alien from the Darkness, and another movie Advancer Tina. All of these movies predominantly feature tentacle rape, but they were not necessarily needed to be shown in order. And so, Edna puts in the first tape of the Urotsukidoji saga and hits play.
They were off. Mira drank without hesitation and against the laws of her religion, and Edna casually finished her bottle after bottle. They finished the movie, and then took a short bathroom break. They returned to watch a tape from the La Blue Girl saga.
As the tapes played, Becky, Ginger, and even HLS sat watching the movies with interested eyes. Around third chapter of Urotsukidoji, they started to get bored. HLS lied down on the ground and fell asleep, while Becky took out her sword and swung it down repeatedly. The reason she did that was to fight her urge to reach over and grab a bottle of whiskey that were all around her. Ginger discreetly took a bottle from the stacks and hovered it before Becky's eyes. Becky dropped her sword and slowly advanced her hands towards it. Then she closed her eyes, puts her hands down, and took a deep breath.
"You can't tempt me, brat," said she.
"I know," smiled Ginger. "Think of this is as a test of willpower."
Ginger then started making cartoony ghostly noises.
"I am the great spirit of Tennessee Whiskey!" Ginger said. "The power of distilled grain compels you to drink me!"
Becky remained still and began humming herself into a trance.
"Drink me!"
Ginger shook the bottle even more nosily, causing Becky's eyes to open and water. Her jaw drops and began drooling. Finally, her hands slowly rose to grab the bottle.
On the leather lounge chair on the right, Edna had the detonator exposed toe Becky and Ginger's eyes.
"Put it back," she said.
Becky and Ginger sighed. Ginger puts back the bottle and slumped on the couch with Becky.
Somewhere in the second, third or fourth tape of the La Blue Girl saga, Becky and Ginger fell asleep. Mira and Edna had just finished yet another tentacle rape scene and were now in some dialogue between two characters. As of now, at least four tables of whiskey had been drunk down to the last drop, and Edna and Mira have yet to show any signs of drunkenness.
"I guess now we can have some time together," smiled Edna. "So how are you holding up?"
"I'm fine," replied Mira.
"We could do this for days."
They sat watching, and became engrossed with the story even though it was neither dubbed nor subtitled in English.
"I can't help but notice that you seem to have a full understanding of the Japanese language," Edna said.
Mira then gripped the armrest of her chair. Edna was right.
"At first, I assumed that you were just an innocent twenty three-year-old girl from Pakistan. It seems that there is more to you than what you show to your friends."
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"Have you heard of the Poison Princess?"
"Maybe."
"I hear that she possesses an ultra-rare genetic condition that makes her immune to almost all poisons and toxins, both natural and artificial. It is said that her method of killing is by poisoning either through ingestion, injection, or through gas. She needs no filter mask, goggles, or even a hazard suit to protect herself from her own poison. I also hear rumors that the only thing that can kill her is a simple vaccine or certain kinds of medicine."
"I find that to be a highly exaggerated underworld legend."
"Perhaps."
Another tentacle rape scene came up. Mira and Edna drank. As it turns out, it was the last scene and the movie ended soon enough. Edna took out the tape and puts it in the case.
"Shall we?" she said.
"Of course."
Mira and Edna went to the bathroom together and urinated. Afterwards, they drank one bottle of water from the cooler, and went back to grab the empty carts. Then they went to a far corner to grab their next selection.
"I notice that you're always wet," Edna said.
"I just have a problem with my bladder," said Mira.
"That's a lie, and you know it."
"You can tell?"
"If you were urinating during the drinking game, I would have blown up the building."
"I see."
"I take it you think about your loved one all the time."
"I do."
"That is so romantic. Are you together?"
"No."
"So it's a crush then. Girl, I think you should confess to him before its too late. I'll even allow you to use the phone to call him."
"I prefer to admire 'him' from a far."
"I really recommend that you say something to him."
"In due time."
"So what did you think of my books? I mean, really. Don't you think they are a bit cliché?"
"I can't believe you'd say that about yourself."
"The 20th century is drawing to a close, and I chanced to read this decade's novels shortly after my revival. They were quite pessimistic about the future. I could not imagine that this great nation could sink so low."
"Even the amidst absolute darkness and despair, there will be life and hope in the unlikeliest places. My time with those girls convinced me so."
"If you had a choice, whose ideal would you choose? Rebecca Maryland Wolfe's, or Darryl Güse's? Oh, you don't have to choose, girl. Choices can change on a whim. One day you feel red, and another day you'd feel blue."
"I suppose."
The two then decided to grab their next set of drinks far away from the square chamber. Mira spotted a row of Canadian whiskey on the top where Edna was at.
"Say, could you get that for me?" Mira asked.
"Sure," replied Edna. "How many do you need?"
"Five."
"Very well."
Edna reached over and grabbed in twos the Canadian whiskey and deposited them into Mira's cart.
"Thank you," Mira bowed.
Mira began walking away with her cart. Suddenly, Edna grabbed her arm and halted her.
"Just a minute," said Edna.
"What is it?"
Edna dove her hand into Mira's pocket and grabbed hold of the remote detonator that was just lifted from her. Mira quickly turned around and grabbed the other end. They were now face to face gripping the detonator with their index fingers and thumbs while they bore their determined eyes and teeth at each other. They grabbed and wrestled with each other's free hand. Edna could detonate the whole floor by pushing the button, but she knew that if she lets go for just less then a half-second, Mira would take it and run.
The women stepped back and forward with their butts knocking against the piles of rattling whiskey bottles. They stepped on each other's toes and even kicked their shins hard. The pain was great, but they still stood their ground.
"It's nothing personal," grinned Mira. "I just don't have the time to watch degrading and sexist Japanese animated porn."
In one loud wail, Edna charged forward and pushed Mira into a table. As Mira tumbled backwards, she latched her left foot onto Edna's crotch and flung her upward. As the two collapsed onto each other the pile of bottles, the detonator flew out of their hands and landed behind another table full of Whiskey bottles.
Edna shot back up to her feet and tried to run off. But Mira pulled her down by grabbing onto her ankle. Edna began kicking Mira in the face really hard. Mira freed her left hand grabbed a whiskey bottle. She shattered it against the floor. Hearing this, Edna grabbed a bottle, and shattered hers. Mira lets go of her ankle and jumped back to her feet at the time Edna did.
It was another face off. They shifted left and right in with their broken bottles in their hands. Edna lunged forward and grazed Mira's chest with her weapon. Mira trapped her attack arm, and spun her around in an attempt to stab her. But Edna grabbed Mira's attack arm wi
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