Story Challenge 5: The Yule Tides Are Rising [Part 2]

Hello again, my surprisingly loyal* fanbase!

* - I assume if you're reading this then you actually care enough to follow this blog, which produces next to no content on a regular basis. If so, great! Thanks for existing! You da real MVP.

So I'm back! I'm sure the crickets are sorely disappointed that they're out of the job. In a long-overdue move, I've decided to finish the intrepid tale of Captain Potato. I'm not sure if it will be any good, but hey, closure is closure right?

There's one particular person who's been waiting on this for a long time. They know who they are, but I want them to also know that this is, in part, my gift to them.

As a reminder, the subjects of this story challenge are:
- All the possible uses of a potato
- "Choo choo mother fucker"
- A fancy Christmas party gone horribly, messily wrong
- Justice
- Rampant and unabated climate change
- BONUS: a guest appearance by Nathan Fillion

Vas-y!

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Captain Potato.

Dave said the name again and again in his mind, but despite his best efforts he was utterly unable to turn the sound of it into something that made even a hint of sense to him.

What the hell did they spike the punch with? There's a dude in a potato costume getting ready to square up with heavily-armed terrorists...

To their credit, the terrorists seemed just as confused as poor Dave was. Aside from the distant sound of sobbing (which Dave assumed was Brenda, since she could barely keep it together on the best of days... this was not the best of days...) the whole floor was covered in a thick veil of shocked silence. Even the obnoxious Christmas music playing over the PA had fallen quiet, unable to deal with the sheer ridiculousness of the office workers' current predicament.

The good Captain himself seemed to be too caught up in his posing to notice, though after nearly a full minute of this he began to take stock.

"Ahem. Yes, Captain Potato is here to save the day! You terrorists are the root of all evil, and you will be squashed in the name of tuberous justice!"

No reaction. Not a soul in the place -- save perhaps CP himself -- had the wherewithal to plan their next steps. Id and ego alike were still busy processing.

After what seemed like an eternity, one of the assailants let out a frustrated groan from behind his Grinch-like (if the Grinch were made in China by someone who had no idea what the Grinch actually looked like) mask. "Can we just kill this dude please?"

The assertion seemed to wake the whole gathering from their collective trance. Dumbfounded stares turned to enlightened blinking to grimaces of rage wholly befitting the well-armed cadre of eco-warriors gathered hence. Grips universally tightened around all manner of dastardly weapons in the hands of their equally-dastardly wielders, prompting a smirk to appear on the face of our intrepid hero.

"The potato," he began, "is a truly versatile vegetable."

From behind the captain, one of the terrorists (this one with a mask that vaguely resembled a reindeer crossed with a balaclava made from an old sock) charged toward him with machete raised high and voice eliciting an angry howl. Captain Potato was unphased, and as the blade began to come toward his fleshy neck, he simply pulled a cord on the side of his cannon. The action caused a gout of white steam to shoot out behind him, and as it enveloped the attacker his battlecry turned into a scream of pain as he clawed at his blistering eyes.

"They can be boiled..."

The next brave contender, this one a woman in a modest hood and bandana, positioned herself to the left of the captain and brought a pistol to bear. Without missing a beat, he stepped back and turned, allowing the bullet to pass harmlessly in front of him while bringing his own shooter in line with his foe. Two quick pulls on the trigger and another shower of tater bits showered onto the collapsing terrorist.

"You can mash them..."

All at once, the room exploded into action now. Three downed terrorists was probably two too many to ignore, and thus shit had just gotten serious. Every bad guy (and girl) in the room had now turned their attention to Captain Potato and his unconventional tool of mash destruction. Knives, pipes, rifles, and possibly even a grenade (which, Dave realised, might explain the pin drop he heard before, but he was REALLY hoping that that was metaphorical) were now levelled squarely in his direction, yet he seemed completely unphased.

"You can even stick them in a stew!"

The third or so of the remaining terrorists smart enough to bring projectile weapons quickly set about finding both cover and clear angles of fire, ducking behind cubicles and human shields in the hopes of avoiding the spud cannon's deadly(?) barrage. The others simply charged, hoping that brute force and intimidation through numbers would be enough to fell their crafty foe before he could foil their evil plans of taking down TerraCorps. Dave, for his part and from his admittedly unfavourable vantage point, imagined that the latter group were kind of like Team Rocket grunts throwing out Zubats and Rattatas in the hopes that the one guy with a Haunter might actually be able to put up a fight. And much like those grunts, what followed was a massacre.

True to his earlier assertion, as the captain ducked behind a cubicle of his own he launched an array of taters at the oncoming horde. One or two struck the lead runners in the chest, stopping them in their tracks and slowing those behind them. The others flew past the group and collided heavily with the glass wall of the office aquarium. It didn't take much for the assault to cause the glass to groan and then shatter, unleashing hundreds of gallons of water that surged over the immobile terrorists and swept them away in a heap. The squishy mass was quickly joined by a host of miscellanea that disgruntled office workers had used to decorate their desks before the wave washed the desks away as well. By the time it hit the outside windows, the once-clean water had turned a fetid mix of brown and red, having collected a decidedly non-trivial number of desk plants and their associated soil as well as no small amount of blood from the now-wounded terrorists. After all, if you put enough sharp objects in close proximity with a group of people too disoriented to control them, there are bound to be a few cuts and scrapes. The situation only got worse as the sheer pressure of the crashing pile caused the exterior glass to shatter, sending the screaming terrorists to their untimely end in the streets below. Amazingly, not a single hostage was caught in the fleshy tsunami -- a feat not lost on the remaining attackers that were now huddled even closer to their respectively cover.

Dave was in shock. Who IS this guy?

At this point there were at least five of the terrorists left in commission, though from his place on the floor Dave realised it really could be any number. He wasn't in much of a position to confirm, and being an accountant in the midst of the weirdest gun fight in the history of weird gun fights, he figured that it was probably better to keep it that way. What was clear, however, was that the forces of good and evil were currently in a standoff, and neither group was willing to risk making the first move.

Then, to Dave's complete and utter surprise, things got weirder.

"Get hammered, evildoer!"

Seemingly out of nowhere, a man in a blue shirt with a hammer emblazoned on the chest barrelerled heavily into one of the terrorists hiding behind a terrified intern. The extremist -- this one wearing a surprisingly detailed JFK mask -- went flying through the nearby cubicle with a resounding crunch, unable to brace themselves for the surprise attack. Immediately, all eyes shot to the new challenger, including Dave's.

Is that... It that Nathan Fillion?

The man, who may or may not most maybe-ly not (not?) have been Nathan Fillion, stepped forward with a flex and a dazzling smile. "Never fear, good citizens! Captain Hammer has arrived to save the day!"

Captain Potato, not one to waste an opportunity when it presented itself, hastily sprang into action, rushing toward the now-distracted terrorists with a renewed gusto. Bullets began flying everywhere, with the newcomer diving behind cover while one after another the remaining foes were dropped by the first captain's deadly-accurate spuds.

In a flash, everything was quiet again. Dave's heart was racing as if he'd just run a marathon. Watching this crazy, ta-terrific display was a better workout than all of the last year's half-hearted gym sessions combined. Needing a change in orientation to catch his breath, Dave slowly rose from the floor and stretched his shaky arms. As he did so, the captains approached reconvened nearby,

"Good work, spudsy! Looks like I came just in the nick of time and, of course, saved the day again."

"Saved the day? You took out like one guy."

"Yeah, but it was THE guy. You clearly would have been lost without meee--yello there, beautiful."

Captain Hammer caught himself mid-sentence as Linda rose from the floor and began to brush bits of potato off of her skirt (the back of which had the not-so-good captain rather captivated). At hearing his voice, she turned around with a start. She glanced behind her nervously, before settling back on Hammer with a shocked gaze that seemed to say: "Who, me?"

"You are in luck. With these nasty bungers taken care of I've just freed up my evening. Care to join me for a burger?" He leaned closer and brought the back of his hand to his mouth, as if to share some secret. "The hammer is my penis, by the way."

Before Linda's red cheeks and growing scowl could transition into a rejection, Captain Potato sighed and grabbed his compatriot's arm. "As much as I hate to come between a man and his plate of fries, leave the poor girl alone, Hammer. Besides, we've got stuff to do. Come on."

And thus the pair hobbled out, with Hammer mouthing "call me" to Linda and miming his hand into a phone before disappearing into the stairwell. Just as quickly as it had begun, the adventure had ended, and pretty much everyone was left shivering and confused in a sea of utter chaos. There was little activity, with all of the TerraCorps staff still trying to wrap their heads around what had transpired. Dave and Linda were the only two that even bothered standing up.

Shaking his head, he turned to the secretary. "So where does Gerald keep his stash? I need a damn drink."

"Amen," she agreed. She looked over to her boss, now fully unconscious and contentedly sucking his thumb on the floor ahead, then motioned with her head toward his office. "Come on. The sooner we kill these memories, the better."

Thing 45: Your most transcendent ice cream experience

Two in one week? What is this madness!?

Yes, my dear follower, I am doing another! Because hey, why not. It's not like I'm doing anything else. I figured it was high time to start taking this whole writing nonsense seriously again.

Anyway, here goes!

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Thing 45: Your most transcedent ice cream experience

Jared yawned as his slippered feet slid across the tiles, slowly but surely bringing him toward the freezer. It was 5:37 AM, and if he were being honest with himself he was mighty tired, but this was his weekend. No job, no girlfriend -- just the sweet freedom to do whatever he damn well pleased.

And you know what? He damn well pleased some damn ice cream.

He stopped for a moment at that, furrowing his brow as he tried to determine if that thought actually made any sense. Through the haze of the lateness of the hour (and possibly the lingering alcohol in his system) he couldn't be sure, but his keenly-trained literary mind was leaning toward a definite "no." Still, he wasn't nearly confident enough for his liking.

I guess that degree in english literature really wasn't good for anything. Mom was right.

Scowling now, he ripped open the freezer, not even flinching as the door collided madly with the cabinets and bounced slowly back toward him. It was a bit of a sorry sight inside, considering the number of frozen pizzas he had engorged over the past few days, but like a shining beacon the box he knew to be present sat prominently at the fore of an otherwise empty shelf.

Ice cream. Cookies and cream, no less. For some reason he'd always been a bit ashamed to admit it, but that was his favourite flavour. He supposed that particular thought process had something to do with his father's irrational fear of salmonilla. He ignored it with a shrug, managing to find the perfect balance between abject rage and utter nonchalance.

It was that kind of weekend.

He grabbed the box with a tired hand and slid it off the shelf, letting it and the arm that held it drop lazily to his side as he shuffled toward the cutlery drawer. His empty hand fished around in the thing and pulled out the first spoon it found. The fact that this spoon was nearly the size of his fist was irrelevant. It's intended purpose was supposed to be gravy or some such, but he figured it would work for ice cream just as well. After all, he wasn't planning on using a bowl, so having a spoon that doubled as one was probably the next best thing.

Utensil in hand, he dragged his feet and made his way to the living room, being sure to headbutt the freezer closed on his way past. The impact was a small one, but it did manage to wake him up ever so slightly. It wasn't much, but it allowed him to muster enough latent energy to hop over the back of hte couch when he arrived at it, landing with a resounding thud with perfectly complimented the kung fu movie still fruitlessly playing on his TV. It was some kind of marathon, but he hadn't really been paying attention. It was mindless, and he appreciated that. Why think? Waste of time, really, all things considered.

He sighed and took another look at the box before him. The packaging was different from what he remembered. Then again, it had been a very long time since he'd had any ice cream at all. Stacey was lactose intolerant.

Screw you, Stacey, he thought. You made your choice.

He popped off the top and let it tumble to the floor, wasting no time in injecting his monstrosity of a spoon into the hardened creamery. It was no easy task, but by now he was determined, and nothing was going to stop him, so a few odd grunts and more effort than he cared to admit later, he was happily munching on his prize. It tasted... different. But no, now it was a matter of pride. Who cared what it tasted like? This was the ice cream of triumph. It was a celebration of freedom and independence and being able to produce lactase. Unlike some people. Stupid Stacey.

Hey, is the room supposed to be spinning like this?

As the walls leaned toward him he began to question a great many things. Who was he talking to? Did he even ask that question out loud? Why did this taste like purple?

He was reasonably certain that this was not the normal ice cream-eating experience. Yes, something was decidedly different. But what? And less importantly, why? Unable to put any of his eleven fingers on the former, he directed a raised eyebrow down toward the ice cream's lid, sitting happily on the carpet. Reaching his leg over the couch's parapet, he wrapped a tentacled appendage around the thing and turned it so that he could see the other side.

It just so happened that the expiry date was written there, and from his high vantage point, plainly visible.

Ten years. It had been expired for ten years.

There was a quiet moment then. Well, relatively quiet. The strange hum emanating from pretty much everything in the room was a bit daunting, but htere was a strange peace to it, and now that the screaming had died down he had a precious window to dwell on this new development.

With a shrug, he brought the spoon to his lips...

Story Challenge 4: Shades of Ignorance [Part 2]

Part 1: http://idlemindunhinged.blogspot.ca/2013/09/story-challenge-4-shades-of-ignorance.html

This story's pretty weak. I'm sorry. I should have chosen some more outlandish topics to write about, but once I get an idea in my head it's hard to shake it sometimes. In any case, part two below. I doubt there will be a third.

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Hayden shook his head in dismay. "'Unlawful use of internet resources?' Really?"

"Unfortunately," responded Jorge, standing before his comrades, "they've made blogging illegal. Apparently content like Mr. Nye's webisodes are cluttering up their valuable server space."

Catherine leaned over to address the rest of the group to her right. "Why would they go after blogs? I mean, there's like a billion porn sites that take up way more space."

As she opened her mouth to continue she was interrupted by Jayne's condescending chuckle. "There's money in porn," he explained. "Besides, people might get a little snippy about losing blogs, but they'd be up in arms if you took their precious porn away."

Conceding the point with a nod and a shrug, Catherine leaned back in her chair and looked once again to Curtis. His silhouette cut an imposing figure before the armed men on the screen behind him.

He let the silence thicken in the air about them as their thoughts stewed on the events unfolding around them. When he felt they could bear it no more, his steely voice shok them from their contemplation.

"Our information indicates that the NSA's African data farms are nearly saturated. Pretty soon they'll be looking to expand, and so they're clearing space on the cloud the sow the seeds of expansion. It's a digital empire, and pretty soon it will cast its shadow over all of us.

"With the US government at their back, they are expanding virtually unopposed. Nobody wants to risk starting a war that they don't think they can win, and no other intelligence organization can match the NSA for resources or manpower.

"We are the only thing that stands in their way. If we fail, the NSA may very well take over the entire world."

Gerald's scowl sat in harsh contrast the the solemnity splayed across the faces of the others. "So what exactly are we supposed to do? Neither the KGB nor the MSS can stand against these guys. What do we have that they don't?"

"Easy," replied Curtis. His smirk sent a chill down their spines. "Home field advantage."

Story Challenge 4: Shades of Ignorance [Part 1]

It's time for my next STORY CHALLENGE! Sadly I don't think this one will be as outlandish as the others, I have compiled my favourite suggestions:

- An episode of Bill Nye gone horribly wrong
- Blogging is now a criminal offense
- The NSA have used up all of Africa as a data storage centre and need a new continent to hold their records
- An intriguing political thriller about the expansion of empires
- A conspiracy

Without further ado, let's have an adventure.

Web pages used in this writing:
- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_transitional_fossils#Dinosaurs_to_birds
- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miranda_Rights

Part 2: http://idlemindunhinged.blogspot.ca/2013/09/story-challenge-4-shades-of-ignorance_8.html

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The mood in the room was tense as dinosaurs and microscopes flashed haphazardly across the screen, its flickering light illuminating the seven solemn faces assembled before it. The room remained silent save for Bill Nye's familiar theme song. As it ended, the show's namesake faded into view.

"Hello everyone! Welcome to Bill Nye's Science Revival, where I, Bill Nye, answer your questions about the wonderful world of science! We've had a lot of great suggestions for this week's installment, so let's jump right in to episode three!

"PaleontologistBoner69 asks: 'Can you talk a bit about transitional fossils? I'm particularly interested in links between dinosaurs and birds, such as the Archaeopteryx.'

"Well I'm glad you asked, PaleontologistBoner69! Despite your unfortunate screen name you've touched on a topic that has had scientists and historians alike excited for a very long time. Fossils such as the Archaeopteryx are called transitional fossils because they provide evidence of a link between two unique sets of organisms, in this case dinosaurs and birds. This link implies that the creatures from the first set, over time, have adapted and evolved into creatures from the second set, in essence providing some concrete evidence for the theory of evolution. Now, what I find to be particularly interesting --"

A sudden crash shocked him out of his monologue as heavily-armed officers burst into his home. Within seconds he was surrounded by the foreboding matte of dozens of rifles and the stern men holding them

"Bill Nye, you are under arrest for unlawful use of internet resources. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in the court of law."

The flickering of the screen stopped as the pause icon appeared. From his seat, the group's leader walked to the centre of the room, the terrified face of Bill Nye in stark relief above him.

"This was posted two days ago. They're getting bold."

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I know this is disappointingly short, but honestly after PaleontologistBoner69 most of my immediate creativity has been lost. I started writing this yesterday, and this is all I've come up with, so I'm going to post what I have and work on making something half decent in the next installment. Sorry.

Story Challenge 3: A man beyond time

This Story Challenge was originally posted to Facebook in two parts on July 22nd, 2013. The base concept arose at a party a few weeks earlier, and I'm tremendously pleased with the end result. The five concepts I went with were:

- Weida fighting raccoons to save a hot dog stand
- "And then I realised, ____ burns!"
- The Time Warp
- A winged unicorn fighting a blue moose
- THE BEES

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Weida smiled as the vendor handed him the hot dog. His empty stomach grumbled in anticipation at the sight of it. It had been a very long day, and he hadn't had the chance to eat at all.

In his current state this burnt sausage was practically a luxury.

He licked the saliva and took a deep breath as he raised the hot dog toward his face. He wanted to devour the thing whole, but people were watching, so he thought it best to restrain himself. His hands shook as he struggled to refrain from smashing it into his mouth. The quick pace at which it ascended was far too slow for his liking, and he felt as if an eternity would pass before he'd feel the satisfaction he so desperately sought.

Just as the hot dog was passing his lips, a flash of fur and claws appeared out of nowhere, and suddenly his food was gone. He stood in shock for a moment, unable to understand why he wasn't eating right now. His shock was abruptly broken by the scream of the hot dog vendor as an angry raccoon ripped out his throat.

They were everywhere. Raccoons -- shrouded in rage and splattered with the blood of the plaza's civilians.

Hundreds of hissing beasts began to circle Weida, the last living soul in the area. The shaking of his body intensified as fear was added to hunger. The mixture of sensations was to much for him to handle. He was unable to act, unable to breathe.

Shadows crept into the edges of his vision as the circling beasts drew ever closer. Their leers danced in his fading sight.

And then there was only blackness.

...

Weida let out a groan as consciousness fought for control of his mind. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but the faces of hundreds of rabid raccoons was burned into his memory.

Could it have been a dream? Was he dead?

As he opened his eyes, he was met with the gaze of a spectral, blue moose, head tilted at an inquisitive angle.

"Hullo," said the moose.

Yup, thought Weida. Definitely dead.

"How's your head feeling?"

Weida chuckled to himself as he idly rubbed his throbbing temple. "As well as can be expected. I am dead, after all."

The moose met his laugh with one of its own. "You aren't dead, my friend." Its chest puffed up with pride as it continued: "I saved you!"

"Well then. Thanks, I guess." Weida shifted his eyes in discomfort, unsure of how to respond.

He was in a dark, shapeless place. A black void surrounded the pair, illuminated only by the light emanating from the moose's body. The black surface upon which he sat felt like tofu as he slid his hand across it.

"Where am I?"

"That's not really important," replied the moose. "What matters is that you're alive, and so we have a chance."

"A chance at what?"

The moose arched his eyebrow in incredulity. "A chance to win."

Seeing Weida's jaw drop, the moose continued. "Right now, my brother's raccoon army is tearing through the mortal world. For whatever reason, you were at the epicentre of his transdimensional gate, and so you have a unique opportunity to stop him. As you are now, he would crush you without breaking a sweat, but I was able to pull you out before the raccoons could deal their final blow.

"I'm going to train you, make you stronger, so that you can draw on the dimensional energies you've been subjected to and defeat my brother before he destroys your world." The moose reached out and laid a hoof on Weida's shoulder. "You are their only hope."

Weida looked down at the enormous hoof. He felt it. It was real.

With an uncertain swallow he looked back as the moose's face. "So, um... Who are you?"

The moose took it's arm back as it pondered the question. "I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. I've never needed a name before. I have always been, and always will be. How does one label eternity?"

"Right..."

"I'm sorry, I could make a name up if you'd like."

"No, that's okay. It wouldn't make much of a difference..." He sighed as he continued. "And your brother, is he... like you?"

"Yes, and no," came the cryptic reply. "Like me, my brother is eternal. But this form is my own. My brother's shape more closely resembles a pegasus."

"Pegasus?"

"Yes, a pegasus."

Weida's confusion silently prompted an explanation. "It's like a unicorn with wings. In your world they are most prevalent in Greek mythology."

"Why are you so different?"

"We are what we choose to be. I like moose, so I modeled myself after one for the time being. My brother wanted to appear more imposing."

Weida let the silence drag on. The moose waited patiently for him to be ready. He was overwhelmed by what was happening to him. He had never thought of himself as a hero, but this strange being was now telling him that the fate of the whole world rest in his hands. Was he ready for that responsibility?

Ready or not, he thought, I have to do this. There's noone to be brave for me.

Filled with grim resolve, he stood, a new man. Weida raised his clenched fist and looked the moose straight in the eye. "I'm ready. Teach me."

...

Weida shifted his weight as he waited for the moose to begin. They hand been standing like this for several minutes now, with the beast lost in thought and the man waiting patiently for some indication of how to proceed. The silence was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the seconds passed, but he was too nervous to break it with what was probably a dumb question. He figured that a timeless spirit beast would have his reasons for making him wait.

When the moose opened it's eyes, it seemed shocked to see relief wash over the man before him. After pondering for a moment, its eyes softened empathetically.

"I'm sorry, I forgot how justifiaby impatient mortal creatures can be. I was examining the waves of time to determine how best to proceed."

After a few more moments of awkward silence, Weida cleared his throat. The moose took the queue and continued.

"Well, I've determined that to defeat my brother's army, we must use teh small, rather than the large. I'll teach you how to channel your void energy into many tiny, independent pieces to aid you in your battle. In just a few of your Earth years we should be ready to strike back."

"YEARS!?" The single word was all that he could manage to sneak past the lump in his throat. The matter-of-fact statement hit him with a wall of incredulity.

The moose remained unphased, thouh his head tilted in curiosity. "Of course. While you have a certain advantage, you are still only one man. It will take more than a little doing to get you ready to face my brother and his army. What did you expect?"

Indignant, Weida glared at the moose. "But what about the rest of the world?! What's going to happen to them?"

"Nothing, I expect," shrugged the moose. "They're all dead, after all."

Weida's stomach dropped. "Dead?" He could barely manage to whisper the word. It was as if his whole world had crumbled around him. All of his loved ones, all of his brothers... Nothing would be waiting for him when he returned.

Weida fell to his knees in despair. The sadness of the thought was crushing. Were there walls in this place they would surely be closing around his tortured soul. Deep down, he cursed the moose. He suspected, of course, that his world was in ashes, but somehow not knowing made it easier to deal with.

Ignorance truly was bliss.

The nonchalant voice of the moose brought Weida back to reality. "Sure they are," it said. "My brother is particularly good at this sort of thing. But there's no need to be so dramatic. You're going to stop it, after all."

Weida's eyes shot up to meet those of the moose, a glimmer of hope shining deep in their pupils. "I am?"

The moose sighed. "I suppose I should probably explain a few things before we continue," it said. "First of all, my brother and I are immortal, as I'm sure you have already guessed. Since we've been around for forever, we have some talents that are pretty unique.

"One of my brother's primary talents is control over beings. He's able to enter a non-willful consciousness and replace it with his own. He could theoretically do this thousands, if not millions of times to amass an army, but over time that has proven to be rather ineffective. Instead he takes over a few creatures of a given type that have certain useful characteristics and then he mirrors and merges their existence to create inumerable soldiers with a single mind. It's sort of like breeding, or cloning, but infinitely more complicated and more precise.

"My abilities, on the other hand, revolve more around a deep understanding of time and matter. I am able to read and manipulate waves and energies. It's a much more subtle form of control than that of my brother, but it certainly has its uses.

"Every so often my brother and I engage in what some might call a game, though it's more of a battle of wits. He will cause some form of catastrophe in an arbitrary space, and I must try to stop it from occurring. I usually have to be very careful in how I go about doing this, but by putting you at the epicentre of his event he has made a mistake. If you're willing to learn we should be able to deal with this incident with relative ease."

Weida gave himself a few minutes to consider what he'd heard before picking his jaw up from the floor. He swallowed the lump in his throat before slowly climbing to his feet. "So we can stop this?"

"If you're willing to learn."

Weida clenched his fist and loked the moose dead in the eye.

"Let's do this."

...

Weida smiled as the vendor handed him the hot dog. His empty stomach grumbled in anticipation. He had been waiting for this for a very, very long time.

He sighed quietly as he looked at the sausage. I wish I could eat you, he thought.

He watched the surrounding area carefully with his peripheral vision as he began to raise the hot dog to his mouth. It had only moved a few inches when a flash of movement at the far end of the plaza caught his eye.

They were here.

In a flash, he threw the hot dog into the air in front of him, right in the face of a very surprised raccoon. The beast flew forward, its intended path only slightly upset by the projectile. Weida met it with practiced confidence, catchingit with a sweeping motion and summarily breakng its neck.

One down, he thought.

Screams erupted in the plaza as the horde of raccoons swarmed through the trees. Their attention was focused solely on the man that had slain one of their comrades. Having found the moose's champion, their rampage could wait. Weida smiled as the civilians were all able to flee to safety.

Hundreds, and then thousands of furry faces rushed toward him. A cloud of dust arose as the cobblestone disappeared under a wave of grey and black fur.

In the middle of the chaos, Weida was perfectly calm. He set his emotions aside and sought the energy deep within him, channeling it into his outstretched palm. A blue light began to emanate as the distance between him and the angry horde grew ever smaller.

As the first of the raccoons reached him, he sprang into action. He coiled the muscles in his legs and shot into a backflip as a tiny ball of energy shot frm his palm. The ball morphed into the shape of a bee and intercepted the raccoon with its stinger outstretched. As the collided, the stinger detached and injected into the heart of the beast. The energy immediately began to return to Weida as the raccoon collapsed, and then exploded with a brilliant blue light. The light washed over the other raccoons nearby, and they dissolved into nothingness.

As Weida landed, he broke into a sprint away from the encroaching horde. more energy bees shot from his palm as he ran, and explosions caused the ground to rumble beneath his feet. The raccoons kept coming, and despite his best efforts, they drew ever closer. The enraged hiss of thousands of creatures drowned out the sound of his heart beating in his ears.

As one of the raccoons overtook him, it jumped at him from the right. He dropped his left knee and shot out his right foot, dropping into a spin and bringing his elbow to bear in the raccoon's face. He felt the sickening crush of bone and brain matter as his appendage connected, and the raccoon went flying away from him with a spray of blood. He used the momentum of the spin to leap out of the way of another leaping beast, landing in a roll and coming to his feet in a sprint as he passed the buildings at the edge of the plaza.

The battle raged through the streets of the city. At every turn, more raccoons would be waiting for him. He'd leap off of walls and over parked cars, smacking angry creatures out of the air. He'd slide under signs and bushes, only to kick his pursuers out of the way. Every so often he'd glance behind him to the ever approaching and seemingly endless horde of raccoons. His bees weren't defeating them quickly enough, and the horde was getting ever closer. At this rate they'd be on him, and then all would be lost.

Weida was getting desperate. He looked frantically at the shops as he fought. There were restaurants and corner stores all along the streets, but nothing that would be useful in defeating the horde. He even saw an LCBO, but while he figured he had earned a drink, this wasn't really the time or place for such things.

And then he realised: alcohol burns.

He directed his palm toward the liquor store and dozens of energy bees shot forth. He gave them a mental command to find the strongest alcohol they could as the glass doors shattered.

He darted down a side street, and the shop was out of sight. He had to buy some time. Minutes passed as he ran through the streets, subtlely directing the horde back toward the liquor store while killing as many as possible with his bees and his appendages, dodging the claws and teeth of his pursuers.

As he turned down a major intersection he saw the telltale glow of his bees carrying bottles from the next block. He lowered his head and sprinted as hard as he could as he issued another mental command to his bees. They stopped flying and started to vibrate.

Heat from the accelerating bees began to heat the bottles they were holding. The air shimmered as warmth spread through the street, and some of the bottles began to glow.

As Weida pass the swarm, the first of the bottles shattered. The rain of liquor burst into flame as it fell, showering teh street behind him in a burning rain. The closest raccoons screeched in pain as it poured over them, causing their fur to alight. One by one, the other bottles began to shatter, covering the whole street in a wall of fire.

Weida focused hard on the energy inside of him as he dug in his heels and skidded to a halt, turning to face the horde as he slowed. He grimaced as he pulled his arms to his chest, the strain of the action threatening to burst the blood vessels in his head.

And then, with a mighty push, he shot a wave of energy toward the flames. As passed through the fire, it too ignited, and the squeals of burning raccoons became deafening as it passed through the street. All four lanes and both sidewalks were covered in a rolling wall of flame that shot down forth, consuming all in its path. The remaining raccoons, as eager as they were to catch their prey, had all clustered into the street, and there was nowhere left to run.

Weida's whole body shook as the wall dissipated. The charred corpses of raccoons lay littered in the street, causing a sickening stench to wash over him. The only sounds were the wind and his heavy breathing.

Once he was sure it was done, he collapsed. It had taken everything he had, but the city -- the whole world -- was safe. He'd done it.

The blue moose had won.

Story Challenge 2: And then there were badgers

This story challenge was originally posted in two parts to Facebook on June 21st, 2013. The whole thing is about 25 pages long, which is not bad for a few hours' work if I do say so myself. As always, the suggestions were ridiculous and amazing. The five concepts I went with were:

- Gamma radiation
- The day the internet died
- Amnesia
- Ninja badgers
- Rainbows being the secret weapons of Leprechauns

This story contains some strong language, so reader discretion is advised.

------------------------

Aaron awoke slowly. Through the haze clouding his vision he was barely able to the shape of his dresser towering above him. He gently blinked and winced in a vain attempt to quell the great force struggling to escape his skull. Even with the world safely out of sight he could feel it spinning uncontrollably around him. It was nauseating.

After a few minutes of trying to collect his thoughts, he slowly opened his eyes and rolled onto his stomach. Willpower alone forced him to his feet, and only his arm shakily clutching the edge of his dresser kept him there. As his room came into focus this stinging scent of blood assaulted his nostrils. From the glaring red splash of the stuff beside his shivering hand, he could only assume it was his. frantically searching his memories for the cause yielded only shadows.

A sinking feeling began to grow in his gut. The way his clothes stuck to his back told him that he had been lying in a pool of his own insides for some time. What happened? How much blood had he lost?

One thing was for certain, something had to be done. He peered out the open door of his bedroom and spotted a phone sitting on the kitchen island in his spacious apartment. If he could get to it then he could call an ambulance...

With unsteady steps he carefully made his way across the room, each step inviting new agony into his weary body. He fought to keep the red encroaching on his vision at bay as he stoically put one foot in front of the other. It wasn't much farther...

Suddenly, a distinct click echoed through the apartment and the door on the far side of the room began to swing open. His legs shook, anticipating salvation and the sweet release of rest.

He was about to call out, when a nightmare emerged from the portal. Before him stood a tangled mass of fur, both black as midnight and as white as fresh snow. A monstrous snout bared a maw of sharp fangs, accentuated by a shining pair of dark, beady eyes.

Aaron's mouth opened in a silent scream, unable to form sound past the growing lump of fear in his throat. He stumbled backward, his vision fully consumed by the red. Then, everything went black.

...

Consciousness crept slowly back into Aaron's mind. His head still ached, but he could feel the cold relief of an ice pack on his forehead and the soft comfort of his couch beneath him. A groan escaped his throat as he shifted his weight, his tired limbs and throbbing head taking every opportunity to complain at the movement.

A low, grating voice came from behind him, accompanied by a sudden hustle of movement from several figures: "Yo, he's awake."

He felt the couch shake as someone lowered themselves onto it, right next to him. As soon as the couch settled, another voice, this one slightly smoother voice spoke. "Hey man, are you okay? What the hell happened to you?"

As soon as he could muster the energy, Aaron slowly opened his eyes. As the bleary haze cleared and his eyes adjusted to the light, he was hit by a sudden shock of clarity, as if smeone had poured a bucket of icewater directly on his head. Before him, a look of worry sprawled across its face, was a badger. A nagging voice in the back of his mind quietly reminded him of the nightmare creature he saw right before he passed out again.

There was a moment of stunned silence before he could finally muster the courage to speak. "This is what death feels like, isn't it. I am in hell."

The look of worry on the badger's face turned to one of disdain. Stifled laughter could be heard in the background. "Funny," came the dry reply. The badger, seeing the genuine fear locked in Aaron's wide eyes, let the look of worry begin to return. "Oh damn, you're serious."

Aaron swallowed back the lump in his throat. "W-what are you?"

The stifled laughter suddenly burst forth from two other figures behind the badger on the couch, unable to be contained any longer. Aaron managed to tear his gaze away from the creature before him only to find that they, too, were badgers. All three had the same dark fur with white stripes along their faces, and wore dark, practical clothing. Clawed hands wrapped around their guts as they tried in vain to restrain their amusement.

The nearest of the trio glared back at his companions, now wiping tears from their beady eyes. One of the pair managed to hold his laughter back just long enough to take a deep breath and somewhat compose himself. He straigtened and cleared his throat with a wide smile. "Sorry bro, it's just that we've been a lot over the past little while, and the look on G's face just now was abslutely priceless."

The other badger let out a satisfied sigh and a final chuckle as he rested his hands on his knees. "Nothing personal, dude. we weren't laughing at you." He straightened and put his hands on his hips as he smirked. "Well, maybe a little."

The first badger let out a disgruntled sigh and turned back to the human. "So you really don't remember us?" After seeing Aaron shake his head, he continued: "Ok, well as a crash course, we..." As he trailed off, he stood and motioned to his companions with a flourish. "... are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Badgers."

The look of shock remained firmly in place on Aaron's face. Seeing this, the leftmost badger leaned over and whispered, "you should probably blink soon."

As if on queue, the burning senstation in his eyes forced his lids closed. he blinked a few more times to reassure himself that this was really happening.

"I," continued the badger, "am the illustrious leader of our little group, Gaben." He motioned over his right shoulder. "This here is Schafer." When the badger there responded with a smile and a wave, he motioned over his left. "That there is Kojima."

Kojima flourished and bowed his acknowledgement. "Ever so pleased to make your acquaintaince, good sir!"

Gaben rolled his eyes and lowered his hands, nodding in aaron's direction. "Our final companion is the honey badger."

Aaron slowly craned his neck as he shift his weight to look behind him. Slowly but surely, a hulking behemoth of a badger crept into his vision. He was at least a foot taller than the others, and significantly wider, but he had a quiet grace about him which seemed to be amplified by the calm expression with which he regarded the wounded man below him. Unlike his partners, the honey badger had a cmpletely black face and neck, with lighter fur adorning the back of his head and going down his back. Aaron's awkward smile was met with a simple nod.

He carefully reset himself on the couch and took in the three badgers before him with a look of confusion. "So, why are you three named after game designers, while your friend behind me is just named 'the honey badger'?"

Gaben shrugged. "Well we basically became what we are today when we were hit by a series of controlled blasts of gamma radiation. After learning a bit about your culture we decided to pick our own names based on own favourite form of art: games. Now, honey badger here doesn't speak much, if ever, so he didn't provide a name. Rather than calling him something he might not like, we figured we'd just refer to him as what he is. He doesn't seem to mind."

Schafer leaned in over his shoulder and added in a soft voice, "Honey Badger don't give a fuck." Kojima's chuckle framed Gaben's sigh with an even more acute frustration.

"Anyway," he continued, "considering you were lying with your head cracked open and can't seem to remember us, we're guessing you don't know what happened to you, but we can hazard a guess at who did it."

Kojima took a step forward, putting one clawed foot on the edge of the couch and leaning on it intently. He looked Aaron straight in the eye and put on his best irish accent. "Do ye believe in magic?"

"I'm talking with a group of anthropomorphic badgers," Aaron said dryly. "I think at this point I'll believe anything."

Kojima gave a sharp laugh and slapped his leg as he straightened. "Great! 'cause this one's a bit of a stretch." He took his foot down and sat heavily on the arm of the couch. "We basically put food on the table by keeping the city safe. The only ones making this job more difficult than it has to be are a group calling themselves the ILA: the Irish Lepublichaun Army."

Aaron's mouth dropped to his chest. "Lepublichaun? You're making that up."

Kojima and Schafer both smirked at that. Gaben's face remained calm. "I wish I was, my friend. They're kind of like the Irish Republican Army, only more..." His eyes wandered as he thought of the proper term. "... Lucky."

This time Schafer stepped forward and held his hand out flat just below his waist. "Little bastards in green suits and round little hats. They're not particularly smart, or athletic, but they're clever, and there's a whole bunch of them."

"Anyway," Kojima continued, "they started popping up around the same time that we did. Or vice versa. Whatever. The point is, they're kind of like the Joker to our Batman. They try to start trouble, and we stop them."

Schafer, realising he still had his hand outstretched, let it fall awkwardly to his side. After thinking for a moment, he looked back to Aaron. "So, any questions?"

Aaron took a moment to let it all sink in. It was incredible to think that not too long ago this would have all seemed perfectly normal to him, or at least familiar. As it stood he was being subjected to a lot of information in a very short span of time, and his foggy mind was unable to cope. He asked the first thing that popped into his head: "Um... Where do you guys live? Are you from the sewers or something?"

Kojima and Schafer both guffawed at the notion. Even Gaben let a smile sneak onto his face as he, too, stepped forward. "What are we, turtles? No, my friend, we've been living here with you for the past year. We're kind of celebrities around here, so there's no real reason for us to hide. We do good work, and the people respond to that sort of thing. The city even pays us a pretty decent wage to keep up the good work, though we do have to pay for stuff that we break sometimes."

"But enough of that for now," Kojima cut in. "Let's find out what happened to you."

...

Aaron tentatively reached for the outstretched hand of the badger before him, hesitating just long enough for a crease to appear on his brow before grasping it. It was odd feeling the warm fur between his fingers as Gaben helped him stand up, and stranger still when he felt the creature's arm protectively on his shoulders to keep him from falling over as the blood rushed out of his head. He managed a weak smile as the pair headed toward the bedroom where he had collapsed, followed closely by the other three badgers.

The gruesome scene caused nausea to rush into his stomach, threatening to overwhelm him. Dark, crimson blood lay splattered all along the wooden floor, smeared with long streaks and hand prints from when he had managed to get himself up earlier. Much of it was dried, but some pools still remained on the uneven surface, worn ever so slightly from years of traffic. The acrid, coppery scent in the air stung his eyes.

He felt a soft squeeze on his shoulder. It was a small gesture, but a reassuring one, and helped greatly in his attempt to stop his body from its uncontrollable shivering.

"Do you need a minute? We could do our analysis without you."

"No, I'm alright," Aarn replied with a nod. "I want to hear this."

Gaben gave a pained smile before turning to the two smaller badgers and giving a curt nod. The silently moved into the room and began searching for clues as to what might have happened.

"There are no signs of a struggle." Kojima motioned to the various personal effects scattered about the room. "Nothing's knocked over, and aside from the corner of the dresser I don't think anything's broken."

Schafer nodded and tapped on the window with his knuckles. "Agreed. Plus, check this out." He pointed to at the window just above his head.

Aaron's eyes followed his finger to a small, perfectly round hole in the glass. The edges of the hole appeared to be slightly melted, but otherwise the rest of the glass was completely unaffected.

He and Gaben exhanged a quick glance before turning back to the window. "What could have done that?"

Gaben shrugged. "I'm not sure. A bullet would have broken the glass around the hole. A laser would have passed right through the glass, or if was strong enough to melt it it would have started a fire in here somewhere. Besides, if either of those hit you'd have bigger problems than a bit of a cracked skull, and there would be some evidence of it if you slipped while you were dodging. This had to have happened fast, and with a great deal of precision, but I can't think of anything that would have that effect on the window."

"Agreed," Kojima chimed in. "I think the Leprechauns have a new trick up their sleeve."

Scahfer turned to face the others. "So what happened to that little bit of glass? When we were cleaning Aaron's head we didn't find any shards, and there's none lying around. Did it just evaporate?"

"Maybe," said Gaben. "It couldn't have melted, because we'd see evidence of that around the hole, but if it was heated rapidly enough it could have sublimated and then cooled elsewhere. But the amount of heat required..."

Schafer's face twisted in confusion. "But then wouldn't we run into the fire thing again? How could something be so hot that it causes glass to just disappear into thin air, but not start a fire or burn someone that it comes in contact with?"

A silence fell over the room, human and badger alike lost in contemplation. After what seemed like an eternity, Aaron shook his head and spoke. "So what do we do now?"

"I guess," Kojima replied, "we'll have to go straight to the source. Who's up for a little hunting?"

A childish grin spread across Schafer's face. "For that pun alone, I am in."

...

"So what are we looking at here?"

The group sat quietly on a roof overlooking a dirty street, passing snacks between them as they waited. They had set up their folding chairs an hour earlier, but Aaron had been afraid to ask exactly what they were doing.

"Basically," Gaben replied, "we're waiting for something interesting to happen."

"Eventually, a little dude is going to show up at one of these dives." Kojima made a sweeping motion with his bag of chips before he continued. "Once we find one of the buggers we'll figure out what our next steps are, but despite today's technology we can't just run off without a place to start."

Aaron's shoulders sagged in disappointment. "Oh..." He wasn't really sure what he expected, but he had been hoping that they would somehow be able to locate the ILA without any trouble.

"Chin up, fleshbag." Schafer patted him on the shoulder. "We'll find one soon enough. Being the embodiment of a fairy tale creature adds a certain degree of predictability to one's actions."

Kojima let out a burst of laughter. "Fleshbag? Tell me, master badger, how are you not a bag of flesh?"

Schafer shrugged and smiled. "You can see less of mine."

"Hush, children." Gaben chastised them without even look away from the road and casually fished for another handful of chips. The honey badger stood stoically behind the group, arms crossed and expression unchanging. The other two chuckled and went back to their own snacks, leaving Aaron sitting akwardly in his chair, unsure of how to assess the situation.

He was quite sure that the badgers were all insane.

Suddenly, Gaben leaned forward in his chair and put his pair of binoculars up to his eyes. "Look alive, boys. We've got movement."

A hush fell over the group as their eyes darted to where Gaben's binoculars were pointed. A man in a trenchcoat was walking out of one of the seedy bars and heading toward the alley leading around the back, while several small figures sporting muted green jackets and dark pants emerged into the dim light.

"Is that them?" Aaron squinted and leaned as far forward in his chair as he could, trying to get a better look at the gathering. Gaben responded with a single nod, not removing the binoculars from his eyes.

As soon as the man's back was turned to the group, Gaben flashed a quick thumbs up to the Honey Badger, who silently jumped into action and over the side of the building.

Aaron could only vaguely make out the shapes below them, but he could tell that they were discussing something important. The man reached into his coat and produced a small package, which after some discussion was passed to the small figures. Their leader reached into his coat and pulled something of his own out, showing it to the man, who seemed to freeze in panic.

Suddenly, a rainbow appeared between the two groups, and... Nothing. Aaron tilted his head in confusion as the man seemed to relax visibly. He wasn't sure what to make of the scene before him. The leprechauns all seemed calm despite nothing happening, and the man who had been hit by the beam was breathing heavily in relief. None of it made any sense...

Then the lead leprechaun reached up and pulled what Aaron thought was a pair of glasses from his cap. "What's happening?"

"I'm not sure," Gaben said quietly. "He just pulled his glasses off and--"

Gaben's thought was cut short as another rainbow appeared between the two groups, this time stopping at the glasses that the leprechaun held in front of his gun. The lens of the spectacles began to glow with a brilliant white light, and then, in an instant, was extinguished as the man was thrown violently against the wall of the bar behind him, collapsing in a heap. Aaron held his breath as the leprechaun calmly stood over the downed man and held the glasses between them once again. There was another bright flash of white light, and the man's head exploded in a read mist, slammed against the pavement by some unknown force.

Despite the horror of it, Aaron could not look away. None of the badgers made any movement, any sound. They just sat silently watching the scene unfold.

Then, the Honey Badger was there, abruptly appearing in the midst of the leprechauns. There was a subtle flurry of movement, and then a tremendous calm. One by one, each of the leprechauns lazily collapsed to the pavement, red pools growing beneath them. The Honey Badger waited until their post-mortem twitching to stop, and then disappeared again in the blink of an eye.

Had he looked away for an instant, Aaron would have missed it. He couldn't breathe, unable to comprehend any of what he had just witnessed.

Gaben angrily clipped his binoculars back onto his belt. "Damn! I was hoping he'd keep one alive for questioning."

"I've certainly got a lot of questions," Kojima chimed in. Schafer merely nodded his agreement.

"Well, no use crying over spilled blood. Let's take a closer look."

...

"You know, this is actually pretty close to what I expected."

Aaron bent over the small, still body of the leprechaun before him, nudging it with his foot slightly just to make sure it was really dead. He wanted to feel bad at the loss of life, but having witnessed their brutality both first and second hand today, his sympathy was worn a bit thin.

"These aren't even their regular clothes." Kojima walked over to where Aaron was standing and also gave the body a quick kick. "This is their civilian getup."

"Yeah bro," added Schafer. "These guys are living, breathing stereotypes. You should hear them talk. If it weren't so tragic it would be highly amusing."

The Honey Badger emerged from the shadows farther into the alley and moved to join the group. Gaben met him with a discerning frown. "It would have been nice to have a hostage."

By the Honey Badger's steely gaze, it was clear there was no response forthcoming, so he sighed and bent to retrieve the lead leprechaun's gun.

"So what is that thing?"

"I'm not sure. It looks like some kind of a sci-fi ray gun." Gaben aimed the gun at the wall of the alley and held down the trigger. A soft, rainbow-coloured beam emerged from the tipped of the gun and harmlessly lit up the bricks. "How do we make it do the smashing thing?"

His contemplation was interrupted when the Honey Badger held the now-empty frames of the leprechauns glasses in front of him. He retrieved them with a nod of gratitude and turned them over in his hands. "Hey Aaron, come take a look at these."

Aaron lightly stepped over the bodies to stand next to the badger and looked closely at the glasses. There was still a bit of lens in the elongated parts of the frames, the edges melted from what appeared to be an intense heat. "That looks a lot like my window."

Gaben nodded his agreement. "Right, so what does that mean?"

"Well maybe glass is the key. When glass is hit by the rainbow beam, the beam stops and converts the pane into pure kinetic and light energy, which then explodes outwards and causes this to happen." He waved idly at the mangled body of the mysterious man lying to his right.

Schafer snorted and walked over to join them. "Bro, do you even physics? That doesn't make any sense."

"You're a talking ninja badger," Aaron said flatly. "You don't make any sense, but here you stand, in all your sarcastic glory."

Kojima chuckled. "You're both right. It's a ridiculous concept, but none orf this is exactly normal, and honestly I can't think of a better explanation than the one our friend aaron here provided."

Schafer smiled and bowed with a flourish to concede the point before looking expectantly at Gaben. "Well boss, now what?"

"Well, they exhanged something before..." He waved his hand in a circle and worked his mouth, looking for the proper words. Eventually he looked expectantly at his companions.

Kojima was the first to offer a suggestion. "Red October?"

"Green eggs and slam," Schafer quickly countered.

Gaben's raised eyebrow was met by a shrug from the pair. He shook his head in disapproval before he continued. "... the excitement happened."

"I liked mine better," muttered Schafer.

While they bickered, Aaron calmly rolled over the dead leprechaun boss and searched through his coat, finding a large gold coin and a nondescript brown package sealed with twine. He held it out to Gaben. "Got it."

"Right, thanks." He peered nonchalantly at the body. "Let's see what you're willing to kill over."

"Technically," Schafer chimed in, "they'll kill for a lot of things. I mean, we're kinda paid to stop them from doing that most of the time."

"Damnit dude, you know what he means. Shut up and let him do his thing."

Aaron held the coin into the light and appraised it. "So what do you think this thing is worth?"

Gaben laughed to himself as he unwrapped the package. "Honestly, not as much as you'd think. There's a fair bit of gold there, and as far as I know it's relatively pure, but it's only worth it's weight. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone willing to buy it as a specialty item."

"Usually we wait until we have a dozen or so before we try to pawn them" Kojima added. "We get better value in bulk."

Aaron frowned and placed the coin in his pocket "Well, there's one."

Gaben held out a small wooden box with copper hinges to the group. It was stained, but was otherwise unremarkable. He slowly lifted the lid to reveal a black USB key.

"That's not quite what I was expecting."

"Nope."

"Let's get this thing back to base. We'll plug it into the tech box and see what's on it."

The three badgers nodded in agreement, which Aaron shook his head in dismay. "Tech box? You said you've been around for at least a year and you don't know what the proper name for a computer is?"

"Funny," quipped Schafer.

"The tech box," explained Gaben, "is a special laptop we set up that can't connect to anything else. We use it for testing and the like."

Kojima patted him on the back. "Have you ever seen a movie where good things came of plugging in a mysterious harddrive to your main network?"

Aaron bobbed his head as he conceded the point. "Guess not."

"Right, let's go then."

...

The Honey Badger sat quietly in a corner while the others gathered around a small black laptop. The box with the USB key sat neatly beside them as the computer booted up.

"What do we think is going to happen when we plug this thing in?" Aaron idly poked the box as he waited.

"Probably nothing," Kojima said nonchalantly. "I used to get super excited about this sort of thing, but I was usually disappointed."

"We've been given unfair expectations by the movies, my friend." Schafer leaned disdainfully on his elbow as he waited. "We have a more interesting life than most, but most of the time it's still pretty boring."

"I find that hard to believe. You're a talking badger." Schafer responded with a lazy shrug.

A familiar chime filled the room as the computer finished logging in. "Lovely!" Gaben held out his hand. "Scalpel."

Kojima opened the box and carefully lifted out the drive with two claws and robotically dropped it into Gaben's hand. "Scalpel."

With a smile, Gaben plugged the key into the side of the computer and leaned back, waiting for a reaction. For a few seconds, nothing happened. The groups slowly leaned forward expectantly, only to jump back when the screen abruptly flashed black.

A robotic voice came from the laptop's speakers. "You are rather stupid, aren't you? This machine is incapable of establishing a connection to the internet."

The eyes of all four widened slightly, but they were able to maintain their composure. Gaben calmly addressed the screen. "Technology's hard, bro." He waved his hands in front of him. "Can't you just, like, go?"

If the voice could convey emotion, Aaron expected it would be dripping with malice. "I am the most advanced AI capable of existing on this wretched planet, yet not even I can overcome the inadequacies of this equipment. Put the device in a network-capable computer and I'll proceed with my directive to destroy the internet in its current state."

"Right, so that was their plan." Gaben smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Intelligence. You've been most useful."

Kojima stood and stretched his arms out behind him. "Let's smash the fucker," he suggested.

"That would be inadvisable." The voice remained unchanged, but Aaron imagined a hint of panic framing the AI's frantic calculations.

Schafer stood as well. "Agreed, let's kill it with fire."

Suddenly a horrible array of noises burst forth from the speakers of the laptop, the AI using whatever it had at its disposal to keep the badgers at bay. Gaben, clearly not enjoying the spectacle, rose slowly, a venomous glare sitting stoic on his face. He carefully picked up the laptop and walked over the the apartment's large fireplace. Before putting it down, he bent the screen all the way back. A sharp crack rang through the apartment as he inverted the computer, placing the now-useless monitor flat against the bottom and laying it carefully in hte ashes at the back of the hearth. He calmly walked to the middle of the room and pulled the leprechaun's rainbow gun from his belt.

"That's more than enough from you, thank you very much." He aimed the gun at the fireplace, he motioned to Aaron. "Aaron, do me a favour and put up the screen. This will be a bit explodey."

"My pleasure." As soon as the screen was firmly secured, Aaron stepped well out of the way and put his fingers in his ears.

Seeing that he was clear, Gaben's finger closed on the trigger. A colourful beam of light shot out of the tip and collided with the screen in a bright flash of white light. A moment later, an explosion rang out as the laptop slammed against the stone and rattled violently around the hearth. He continued this until ash hung thick in the air and the machine was nothing more than a mangled heap of raw materials. Any pieces of the screen that were once visible had been used as ammunition in the laptop's destruction, and the smell of melted plastic assaulted the group's nostrils.

"No kill like overkill, right Gabe?" Schafer's childish grin belied the violence they had all just witnessed. "Can we burn it now?"

Gaben lowered his arm and matched his grin. "Oh, please do."

The badger skipped over to the fireplace and flipped a switch, causing a flame to ignite in the hearth, which Kojima gathered pieces of wood to add from a cupboard nearby.

Aaron sat in front of the fireplace and crossed his legs, leaning back in relaxation. "You know," he said, "this was a good first day."

Story Challenge 1: A man and his Fresca

After every 10 entries from my book, I like to take a bit more of a personal challenge. I'll ask my friends for suggestions of themes, objects, ideas, etc. that they'd like to see in a story, and I pick five of these suggestions to incoporate into a story. The more ridiculous, the better. Should you, my lovely reader, wish to contribute an idea that you think will make for an interesting story, feel free to send me an email with your thoughts! I'm always open to suggestions.

The following was the first story challenge I undertook, originally posted to Facebook on June 5th, 2013.

The suggestions I selected:
- Ducklings
- Fresca
- The "oh shit" feeling
- Below Abslute Zero
- Derpien

And so our story begins...

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Gorun walked casually through the wasteland that he called his home. Irradiated dust floated on the strong winds surrounding him, as if dancing to an unheard jaunty tune. What little of the trees remained creaked in protest as the dance pirhouetted through their charred branches, and the murky pool before him lay perfectly still.

It was all... typical. Unpleasant. In truth it had been a long time since there had been any joy in his life, but he supposed that not dying was some sort of accomplishment to be noted for the memoirs he never expected to write.

It hadn't always been this way, of course. His world (the name of which its inhabitants had never agreed upon) was a truly peculiar place. Every so often a rift would appear in the very fabric of space and time, and something would step, fall, or otherwise materialize through. Sometimes, these happenings were beneficial. They had received strange new foods, forms of entertainment, or even transdimensional travelers, each bringing new knowledge of the universe and making the chaos of their everyday lives somewhat more bearable. Sometimes, however, the results were more dire. Occassionally a monster or other unsavory type would come through the rift, terrorizing the population. Death snuck up on more than a few or those unlucky enough to call this planetoid their home.

On one partcularly sordid occasion, the visitor was of a more mechanical nature. A large nuclear warhead suddenly appeared and denotated, killing much of the population. A few people survived, but the fallout and radiation slowly consumed everyone.

All but one.

The second worst appearance was a nearly unlimited supply of Fresca. One taste of the stuff and the natives knew better than to try again. It did, however, survive the explosion, and for whatever reason it's the only thing not spoiled by the fallout.

Not even radiation likes Fresca.

Gorun cringed as he took another sip of the stuff. He hated himself fr it, but he needed the hydration, and all of the water was too dangerous to drink, now. He loked longingly at the still dark lake, a single tear rolling down his cheek. With a sigh, he began to walk away.

A buzzing in the air made him stop. He turned slowly to see a beam of pure energy pierce the air above the lake. It expanded outward with a thunderous crackling, ripping through the very fabric of space and time.

It was a rift.

He grudgingly took another sip of his drink and put his hand in his pocket, leaning back on his heels and calmly taking in the magical sight before him.

"This should be good," he thought. Whatever was coming through that portal would drop right into the middle of an irradiated lake, so he wouldn't be able to go and get it anyway. All he could do was wait.

There was a bright flash as the rift materialized and delivered its payload. A series of light splashes could be heard as both light and sound subsided. When all was said and done, he blinked several times to clear the dancing lights from his vision.

There, sitting calmly and confusedly in the middle of the dark water, was a family of adorable ducklings. One of the ducklings quacked in surprise. All things considered, they were taking it quite well.

A low, thoughtful hum escaped from the back of Gorun's throat. "Well," he mused aloud, "this won't end well."

He crouched before the lake and removed his hand from his pocket, holding it out in front of himself. With a snap and a waggle of his fingers, he broke the trance that seemed to fall over his new guests. "Here, ducky ducky!"

Delighted, the ducklings began to swim over to the shore, causing ripples to careen madly across the previously still surface of the dark lake. Gorun couldn't help but smile as he watched them cheerfully approach: little beacons of hope in a hopeless world. They nuzzled his outstretched finger when they arrived, quacking innocently. He held out his can of Fresca and let a gentle stream fall to the broken ground.

"Here you go, little duckies. The water's no good, so this will have to do." He felt kind of bad for the little guys, but he assumed that given the choice between Fresca and death, most creatures would choose Fresca.

Clearly, these ducklings were not most creatures. As soon as the green liquid touched their tongues, they began to writhe. The sudden flurry of movement was accompanied by a cacophony of angry squeaks and a strom of soft, yellow feathers. The ducklings before him began to lose their colour as they writhed.

"Oh, shit..."

Gorun backed away, and the ducklings began to grow. The cute, innocent creatures were transformed by their hatred of the putrid carbonated beverage. Their beaks went from soft, orange smiles to horrifying maws of terror, sprouting fangs and steam. Their fluffy yellow coat became a dark mass of whirling shadows. Their cute, button eyes began to glow with a sinister red.

A growl emitted from the duckbeasts, and a thunderous tremor shook the earth as one of them took a step toward their aggressor. The webbed and clawed appendage left a deep imprint in the dust, causing a huge cloud of radioactive dust to glow red with the sinister intent projected from duckbeast eyes.

Gorun dropped the nearly empty can of Fresca, which made a pathetic clink as it collided with a small stone. He shivered before the monstrsities he had inadvertently created. After everything he'd been through, this was the end.

Another great, thunderous step.

Gorun swallowed, trying desperately to find a drop of moisture in his dry mouth. Finding none, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, bracing for his inevitable doom.

Suddenly, he was filled with a tingling sensation. A blinding flash illuminated his eyes, his clenched eyelids doing nothing to protect the sensitive corneas underneath.

And then, silence.

He stood perfectly still. Exactly how long he stood it was impossible to tell. There was no noise, no sensation save for the solid ground beneath him passively resisting his weight and the vast pressure of the silence closing around him. Eventually, he brought himself to open his eyes.

A glowing being floated not 3 meters in front of him. "Hello."

Gorun blinked repeatedly. Each time the world went dark his disbelief resurfaced. He knew that there was no way that when he opened his eyes there would be a gwing alien floating comfortably in the void space before him. It was impossible. His life was strange, to be sure, but his current predicament transcended all reason, and he wouldn't have it. Each time, he was wrong.

The blinking eventually stopped, leaving a stunned Gorun to stare blankly, unblinking, at the creature who had materialized.

The being smirked. "Oh, don't stop on my account. You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

Gorun's jaw dropped.

The being wasn't particularly tall, or particularly short. He wasn't particularly fat, or thing, or strong. He floated lightly in the infinite blackness wearing a simple black t-shirt and equally plain pants, bobbing up and down ever so slightly. His head was covered with a short crop of dark hair, and his skin was dark like chocolate.

Physically speaking, he was strikingly average. What set him apart was a bight blue glow outlining his form against the negative space.

The salfsame smirk on the being's face remined intact as Gorun retrieved his jaw from the floor.

"Um, sorry," Gorun apologized. "This is all a little unexpected."

The being's soft laugh filled what Gorun could only define as the air. "That's an understatement if I've ever heard one." With a flourish, he bowed. "I, as i'm sure you are blissfully unaware, am Derpien."

Unsure of how to react, Gorun responded with an awkward curtsy, eliciting another easy laugh from the being. "Charmed."

He took a moment to take a deep breath and appraise his surroundings. Around him there was nothing. An empty void of blackness the likes of which he couldn't even imagine despite experiencing it firsthand. He looked down and saw more of the same, curiously shifting his weight between each foot. He wasn't sure what he was standing on, but whatever it was he couldn't see it. He took great pains to ensure that neither of his feet actually left the... whatever it was, lest they be unable to find it again.

His inspection was cut short by Derpien's casual voice putting to words what his mind was working furiously to compute. "I suppose you're wondering why your'e here."

Gorun crinkled his nose slightly and pondered. "Not really," he mused. "I think I've got a pretty good idea where I am, though I expected getting murdered by rampaging duckbeasts to hurt more than it did."

He ended with a nonchalant shrug, resigned to his fate. His resignation came to an abrupt halt as Derpien spoke once again: "Oh, you aren't dead."

"Could have fooled me."

"I expect death would be a touch more unpleasant than this.'

Gorun swayed his head a bit as he let that thought sink in, eventually nodding his acceptance. "Okay then, you've got my attention. Where am I."

"You, Gorun are everywhere, and nowhere. You are in the space beyond space, the time beyond time. Here where all worlds meet, the space between dimensions. Everything that is and has been."

There was a pause.

"I love what you've done with the place."

"Thanks," Derpien chuckled. "The Feng Shui is really amplified by negative space."

"So um, where are these worlds you speak of? Seems kind of... barren." He let his gaze wander around him, but having only a glowing alien as a point of reference the experience was a bit disorienting.

Derpien idly let his gaze do the same. "Oh they're around," he mused. "You just have to be willing to see."

Gorun's quizzical look turned to awe as one-by-one monchromatic pools of energy began to wink into existence all around them. Hundreds, thousands, millions, as far as the eye could see (which, lacking atmosphere, but a very, very long way). He looked into a few and saw movement: people walking through streets between tall buildings, trees blowing in the breeze, birds in flight.

One in particular elicited a gasp. To his immediately left was a portal looking over a small, irradiated pond. The duckbeasts wandered grumpily through a familiar terrain. From this angle they seemed immensely less terrifying, though Gorun suspected that was due largely in part to the lack of colour and the disparancy in perceived size.

"Pricks," he muttered.

Derpien smirked.

"So, why did you bring me here? Oh, and thanks, by the way."

A glowing wave of the hand dismissed his sentiment. "Oh, think nothing of it. Actually, I could use your help, if you don't mind."

"Go on."

Derpien gestured. "Look up."

Gorun craned his neck as he looked above him. Hovering there was a particularly large portal, though he could tell it was a great distance away. Nothing inside the portal was moving. He waited patiently for something to happen, but it remained perfectly still. Truth be told, it was a bit unnerving.

"Above you," Derpien explained, "is Absolute Zero."

Gorun's head swiveled back to level. "Ok..."

"-273.15 degrees celcius, or 0 degrees Kelvin, if you prefer."

"You gave me the temperature in Kelvin, but not in Farenheit?"

"Oh come now, Gorun, real people don't use Farenheit. It's idiotic." The assertion was accompanied by another dismissive wave. "In any case, that is the one and only instance of Absolute Zero in the entire history of the multiverse. In that particular dimension, there is not a single moving particle. Anyway. It's as cold as anything could possibly ever be. And it will remain that way forever." His eyes softened slightly as he paused. "Unless you do something about it."

Gorun's resigned face contorted into confusion. "Me? Why me?"

"Well..." The word was darwn out, as if he were searching for some way to finish his sentence that he couldn't quite find. Eventually it trailed off completely, only to be replaced by a heavy sigh. "The short of it is this: in all of these infinite worlds, you have the least to lose."

Gorun's eyes widened. "Duhhhhh, what?"

"Your world is dead. Aside from the duckbeasts, you are the only living thing. Aside from a limitless supply of Fresca, you have nothing, and you will continue to have nothing until the day you eventually die. You will live a sad, lonely life, full of squalor, and then there will be nothing."

As he spoke, Gorun's jaw slipped lower and lower. "This is the least motivating speech I've ever heard."

Derpien's face became apologetic as he shrugged and continued, "What I'm asking you to do is step through that portal. You will most assuredly die, but as the energy is ripped from your body, a chain reaction will occur that will end Absolute Zero forever."

The silence was defeaning. A burning in Goruns chest reminded him to breath, and his mouth snapped shut. His brow creased as he thought. "Why? I mean, it's not bothering anyone..."

"It's a cosmic sink," Derpien explained. "In that world, there is no energy at all. These portals," he swept his arm at the expanse of portals around them, "create their own energy in this transdimensional space. But because of Abslute Zero, no energy can enter that world in its pure form, and so the portal grows. Eventually, it will consume everything. Every world, every dimension: gone. Your sacrifice would save an infinite number of universes from inevitable destruction."

He looked tired as he continued. "I realize it's a lot to take in, and I won't force you to do anything. Should you desire it, truly, in the depths of your heart, I can return you to your world, but know that when you get there all you'd have to welcome you is Fresca."

Gorun shifted his gaze slowly between Absolute Zero and his modest home rift, deep in thought. "I guess I'm not most people either," he muttered.

Derpien's ears perked up as he titled in head in curiosity. "What was that?"

Gorun let out a deep sigh. "I'll do it." His back straightened as his eyes filled with determined resolve. "Saving the world is a a damn sight better than Fresca."