SciBoard Resurrection

Greetings! I haven't posted for a bit...but...I bring goods!

A few of you might remember a story I used to do on the old board called SciBoard Fiction (here).

Well, just for Easter, I'm doing a short, one-off, standalone story with enough stuff from the original in it for it to be called SciBoard, but it doesn't really fit in anywhere in the original, so can't really be called a sequel, and you don't need to read the old one to read this.

So...here's the start...

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


Team Leader 'Cynical Youth' signalled for the man flanking his right to run up ahead. The man did so, taking cover behind some shrubbery. Cynical Youth himself stood with his back to a tree, an assault rifle in his hands and a pair of night-vision goggles over his eyes.

The first man in place, he signalled again, and a second man made his way to some foliage on the other side, getting there in a crouching run. The man peered through the leaves using goggles of his own, his vision green and slightly fuzzy.

The concrete bunker was several metres up ahead, past a stretch of open ground. There appeared to be no one in sight.

The man looked to his left, and the other man nodded in affirmation. The Team Leader watched them sprint across the open ground and pin themselves to the bunker wall, clutching their weapons tightly, standing either side of a small, rectangular entrance.

Cynical Youth signalled once again, and another two men materialised out of the darkness and followed suit. Cyn breathed deeply, closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree to focus himself, but only for a moment. His eyes snapped open and he turned from the tree, bolting across to meet the others.

He was first into the bunker, lifting his goggles up out of the way and sweeping the area with his flashlight. The others did the same--the goggles were useless in complete darkness. They edged down a claustrophobic corridor, the rough, concrete walls barely a metre apart. The corridor sloped very gradually downwards as they progressed. A noxious, stale smell choked the air.

Cyn kept his gaze locked on the way ahead as they worked their way down, breathing through his mouth. His men paused to kick open doors leading to small, empty rooms, shining light into their dark corners before moving onto the next.

Their descent suddenly steepened, and the doors that had so far sparsely lined the walls disappeared altogether. The corridor ended and they passed into a large room, the temperature dropping even further.

There was an ominous, low-pitched hum coming from something in there. Their flashlights revealed thick lengths of wire snaking across the floor and over and into the backs of giant hulks of dust-covered metal. Cyn felt warm, putrid air against his face as he passed a ventilation fan.

'Computers?' asked one of the men.

'It would appear so,' replied Cyn.

The men made their way further into the room, which seemed to go on for a considerable length. Cyn, who had been making his way straight down the middle, was stopped in his tracks by a dusty and inactive flatscreen monitor, suspended lopsidedly at roughly head height by a thick vine of wires leading up to the ceiling. Affixing his flashlight to his belt, Cynical Youth cautiously reached out to touch it--

--and it switched on, his finger still inches away. The screen lit up with an extremely bright, painful light. Cyn felt his pupils sharply contract, and all five members of the team had to shield their eyes until they became more accustomed to it.

Cyn squinted at the screen, at the words that had appeared on it...

BaMessenger™ 2.0

Ba light, Ba bright, the first Ba inferior sees tonight!

SinisterPresence: You're too late.

'What?' said Cyn, as the other members of his team appeared beside him.

SinisterPresence: They've moved on.

'What?' cried Cyn. 'No!'

SinisterPresence: Toodles.

The persistent hum of the encased machinery grew louder. The screen went blank. One of Cynical Youth's men cried out as green gas billowed out from a fan right by his head, vile and toxic.

The same started to happen throughout the room.

'Ooh shit,' said Cyn, as the man clutched at his throat and fell to the ground. 'We need to get out of here!'

The other members of the team were looking around in bewilderment.

'Now!' yelled the Team Leader, picking up the fallen man and slinging him over his shoulder. 'Come on!'

* * *

:cooler:

Good stuff.

Lots of well-dressed people were gathering in a huge, capacious room of aristocratic flamboyancy, a high-vaulted glass dome above their heads, a marble floor beneath their feet, and dozens of ornaments and completely inappropriate statues of both great value and great fragility lining the walls.

Ambassador Hsing, a champagne glass in her hand, gazed up in wonder at the distant ceiling. The room was actually square, and the corners of the ceiling that the dome did not devour were occupied by epic paintings of chubby cherubim, sticking spears in each other and drawing blood. It was unnecessary filler; graffiti on a grand scale.

Beyond the glass it was a clear night, and the stars added yet another dimension to the already over-the-top immenseness of it all.

Hsing sipped at her champagne and looked around the room at the people there. As Ambassador, it was her job to promote her own city through warm smiles, flattering speeches and displays of appropriate amounts of interest in the lives of the rich and influential people she was acquainted with. This evening was all about the unveiling of some supposedly exquisite piece of artwork, which was apparently well worth having the city spend ridiculous amounts of money on, despite the appalling state of affairs the city was actually in.

But, as Hsing knew well, it was all about outward appearance.

Most of the guests seemed to have arrived. Hsing smoothed her black dress and flicked back her dark hair to ensure full ambassadorial volume before making her way to the stage, detouring on the way to greet a man with a frighteningly large moustache. The stage itself was only small: a slightly raised platform occupying a section of the room's edge, covered in red carpet and with a backdrop of prospectus-style photos taken at quirky angles. A smartly dressed, elderly curator was giving two thumbs up.

On the stage itself was a microphone stand, the soon-to-be-revealed art hidden under a white sheet, and the curator in person, standing with his hands behind his back and looking thoroughly austere.

Hsing walked up to the microphone and adjusted it a little. 'Ladies and gentlemen,' she said, and smiled while she waited for the chatter to die down. 'Ladies and gentlemen, good evening and welcome to the Apostle of the Arts Insitution. It is an honour and a privilege to have you all here tonight for this momentous occasion, where we shall be unveiling the latest, near-priceless addition to the city's proud collection.

'So, without further ado, I think it's time to put you all out of your misery and reveal this magnificent masterpiece, the divine work of the famous Hermes de Quelquepart, which will surely remain an inspiration to the whole city for many years to come.

'Mr Spiffle, if you would kindly do the honours...'

The curator nodded, and carefully pulled back the sheet. The audience were collectively repelled as a statue of a skeletal figure appeared before them. It was clutching its head as if in agony, a horrified expression on its face and eyes bulging.

Then the glass of the great dome above exploded inwards, and there were shrieks of horror from the guests as a dozen or so figures abseiled down ropes to meet them.

Hsing watched in horror as one of them fell in half as soon as it touched the ground, splitting at the midsection like wet spongecake. Its skin was pale and sickly, almost green, and its guts glistened from within.

Others remained moving. And they moved with speed, pouncing on the guests and biting...

Hsing had involuntarily backed herself into the wall. Mr Spiffle was frozen to the spot, staring at the chaos in stunned silence.

Those that still could ran for the exits, and Hsing decided that it would probably be wise to follow. She was about to shake the curator out of his daze when one of the gruesome figures lurched up behind him and sank its rotted teeth into his neck.

Hsing screamed and fell back. She turned and ran for one of the doors, kicking it with such force when it wouldn't open that it splintered and the heel of her shoe broke. The door swung open and Hsing discarded her shoes, running straight down a carpeted corridor. One of them chased after her and she resorted to knocking over extremely expensive items in its path to try and slow it down.

She sprinted through a small section of museum, skittering to a halt to unhook the red rope from a metal railing and pick the railing up (with some difficulty). She turned to face her attacker and swung the railing at it. It flung up its arms to defend itself and was knocked to the ground.

She hit it repeatedly, a metallic clonk resounding through the museum each time, but the battering appeared to have very little effect on it. Most of its bones crushed, it still managed to get up and follow her as she abandoned the metal railing and ran on, but at least it had slowed it down.

Hsing raced through more museum, her progress hindered and her panic mounting as she searched desperately for the doors that weren't locked. Bursting through a fire exit and triggering the alarm, she finally made it out, gasping for breath in the cool night air.

* * *

Excellent... Yet failing to mention how hard Hsing finds it to run in high heals...

Ye GODS. 'Splitting like wet spongecake'? :shock:

Despite my horror i do need to know what happens to Hsing next please, i'm rather worried.......

:shock:

Good Show!

>discards half eaten spongecake discreetly<

It rained.

Ambassador Hsing used offensive language. She kept as close to the shops as possible, for any shelter they offered, and for illumination. She quickened her pace every time the thought of one of those evil...things coming up behind her appeared afresh. People gave her odd looks as she made her way down the street hugging herself, her long, dark hair wet and lifeless, her dress crumpled and her feet bare; but she barely even noticed them.

Most of the shops were closed this late, but a flickering neon sign pointed out that a bar of appropriate dinginess was still open. Hsing went in.

The only light in the bar came from the bar itself. The two other occupants, sat at separate tables in the dark, were minding their own business so much that they were practically hiding in their coats. There was also a barman with an amber beard, cleaning a beer mug with a rag. He gave Hsing a friendly smile as she trudged over to the bar and plonked herself down on a stool.

'A cocktail of everything you have, please,' she said.

'Bad night?' asked the barman.

'Yes,' said Hsing, hiding her face in her hands.

'Oh, I'm sure it wasn't that bad,' said the barman, placing the beer mug to one side.

Hsing appeared from behind her hands and looked critically at the smiling man. 'I'm sure it was,' she said, plainly.

'Well now,' said the barman. 'In that case, you need some of this.' He placed a bulbous glass on the bartop. It was filled with a clear, faintly blue liquid.

'Will it make me forget,' asked Hsing, 'without actually killing me?'

'Trust me,' said the barman, smiling even more brightly. 'This is Mal's Special Brew. You'll be feeling better in no time!'

* * *

'KILL THE FUCKING ZOMBIES!' cried Hsing, leaping barefooted from one table to the next. 'I am Ambassador,' she declared grandly, teetering dangerously, 'of this beautiful city, and I will be damned thrice soif I'm going to let those corpsular bastards ruin everything I have worked for!'

She jumped less than gracefully from the table and made her way unsteadily back to the bar. 'Mal, comrade,' she said, 'let us formulate a strategy!'

* * *

Well, the unveiling of the new art was seen as something major for her own city, so she had to be there promoting it.

If being Ambassador doesn't usually entail that kind of thing in real life...well, it does in this story.

'The economy is popular this year.'

'Really?'

The two men wore tall, ornate wigs and heavy, red satin dresses that bulged in strange places, massively so at the waist, cascading down in ostentatious folds and billows and ribbons and sequins. They were seated at a table just outside a café. One was pretending to read a broadsheet newspaper. The other was seeing how soggy he could get his biscuit before it fell into his tea. It did so with a miserable plop.

'Indeed,' continued the first. 'More popular than cake, even.'

'Wow. I like cake.'

Kennilesque attempted to fold up the newspaper. It didn't work out. He threw the crumpled pile on the floor, where it got carried in the breeze and attacked the occupant of a nearby table. He scratched his stubble thoughtfully. 'Cake is less complicated, I think.'

'Did you hear about the zombies?' asked Rinsamien, selecting Biscuit Three, a member of the shortbread family.

'Zombies?'

'Yeah. At that big art place. Just eating people for no reason.'

'For no reason?' exclaimed Kennilesque. 'Barbarians!'

'Yeah. I mean, ripping out their intestines and having just a little taste of someone if they're, like, trying to attack you when you've done nothing wrong is one thing. That's allowed.'

'Yeah.'

'As long as they're fresh.'

'Yeah.'

'So, like, zombies wouldn't be all that nice.'

'No.'

'But the gratuitous eating of perfectly innocent people is another thing entirely!'

'And very bad for the economy,' agreed Kennilesque, nodding sagely. 'I think we should do something about it, Rinsamien.'

'I agree, Kennilesque. It is most probably our destiny.'

'Indeed!' said Kennilesque. 'Drink up, my friend! We have work to do!'

Rinsamien tipped back his cup. Biscuity sludge poured forth to meet his face.

* * *

A great piece. Keep it up!

Hell yeah.

*Pokes talented young fellow concerned in an unignorable and irritating manner*

*Cackles maniacally at power wielded by self*

Hsing opened her eyes. She peeled her face off the bartop, leaving a red mark on her cheek, and looked around.

The bar was empty. Daylight filtered through the windows in golden, dust-filled shafts. The barman was nowhere in sight.

She got up and made her way to the door, rubbing her head. Strangely, she didn't have much of a headache, but she felt dazed.

It was a warm day outside. Lethargically warm, and people moved slowly, their foreheads glistening. Her vision rippled in the heat from the road surface.

Hsing decided that, before anything else, a cool shower and a change of clothes were in order.

* * *

'We're obviously going to have to find out where they're all coming from,' said Kennilesque. Their huge dresses moved forward in great sweeps as they walked.

'How are we going to do that?' asked Rinsamien.

'Well, they'll attack again,' reasoned Kennilesque. 'Zombies are never content until everyone is a zombie. We just have to be there when they do, and then...and then think of something when the time comes.'

'We'll need to be able to fight them off while we're thinking of what to do next,' Rinsamien pointed out. 'You know, destroy as many as we can.'

'But there will be lots.'

'Yes, there will be lots.'

'And although we are beautiful, there is only so much we can do.'

'This is true.'

'So we will need some assistance.'

Rinsamien looked thoughtful for a moment. 'But who will assist us?'

* * *

A hand reached up and grabbed a jut of rock. The rock was red-brown in colour, with jagged veins of white. The rock face was steep and sheer.

The Plaid One, currently not dressed in her usual plaid but instead in black climbing gear (devoid of anything that could actually ensure her safety), shifted her weight and pushed upwards, her foot gaining purchase in a shallow recess before she pushed herself up again, the fingers of her left hand now gripping something more substantial than they had been before.

Her left food slipped away as the rock beneath it crumbled, and she quickly shifted again, her other foot not secure enough to rely upon, once again pushing herself up with slightly more ease than physics usually allowed. She watched the rubble plummet, skittering down the rock face below.

A warm breeze animated her long, dark, curly hair. She took a moment to enjoy the view of the rocky valley behind her. A river wound its way through the canyon, half hidden amongst thick vegetation, sparkling in the sun.

She caught sight of an open-top jeep as it made its way up the curving road, swerving crazily and kicking up clouds of dust.

She turned back to the rock face and resumed her climb, making her way seemingly effortlessly up to the top in a matter of minutes. Her hands appeared over the edge, and with one final push she flew upwards several metres, landing on her feet. She folded her arms as the jeep came to a stop and two abundant figures adjusted their wigs and climbed out.

Kennilesque and Rinsamien made their way hastily towards her, their dresses cleaving paths through the dust.

'Plaid!' cried Rinsamien. 'We need your help! There are zombies!'

'Zombies?'

'Eating people for no reason!' added Kennilesque.

'They are?'

'Yes!'

'Oh.'

'What are you doing way out here, Plaid?' asked Rinsamien.

'Rehabilitation,' Plaid replied, proudly. 'My old abilities are starting to come back to me. And I've learnt some new stuff, too.'

'Good. You're going to need them,' said Kennilesque. 'Get in the jeep, we'll explain on the way. Time is of the nuisance!'

The men raced for the driver's seat. Kennilesque lost, and, Plaid already occupying the passenger's seat, ended up in the back. 'You cheated,' he mumbled.

Rinsamien turned the jeep around, very nearly driving it over the cliff edge, and they made their way haphazardly down the road, Kennilesque sulking in the back.

'So yeah,' said Rinsamien. 'We need you to help us save the world.'

The Plaid One got out a cracked pair of rose-tinted spectacles and put them on. 'Sure.'

* * *

*Chuckles*.

Also, the 'golden, dust-filled shafts' just about make up for the wet spongecake splitting horror, thanks

Rinsamien and Kennilesque sat on a sofa in Plaid's city flat as the Plaid One herself paced up and down before them.

'Do we know of any reason why they would choose to attack the Apostle of the Arts Institution?' she asked. 'It seems an odd place to go for.'

'It was just some party for rich people, I heard,' said Kennilesque. 'They were showing off some new art or something.'

'Well, they wouldn't have been after that, would they?' said Plaid. 'I mean, they're zombies. What interest would a zombie have in the finer arts?'

'It was probably the rich people themselves,' said Rinsamien. 'All those rich people in one place, and rich people eat more cake than anyone else, so they probably...taste nicer.'

Plaid chose not to notice that their eyes glazed over at this thought. She continued to pace, thinking aloud. 'Hm,' she said. 'All in one place. That certainly seems like reason enough.'

Kennilesque blinked, returning to the matter at hand. 'But why there? Why not just attack somewhere like a shopping mall, where there's loads more people?'

'I don't know,' said Plaid, deep in thought. She had stopped pacing, and stood with her arms folded, staring into middle distance. 'Maybe for containment,' she said.

She shivered, and her eyes snapped back into focus. 'We need to figure out where they're going to strike next,' she said. 'Know of any big events? Gatherings? Parties?'

* * *

Ambassador Hsing, now dressed in a sleeveless white top and black skirt, made her way to the Mayor's office, slipping past the secretary unseen. She walked down a short corridor and was about to knock on the large oak door when she heard raised voices coming from inside, and paused to listen.

'You told me, Cyn dude, that you'd found this mysterious Sinister Presence and that your team were going to hunt him down,' said a voice Hsing recognised as the Mayor's. 'Two dozen people got, like, eaten alive last night. By zombies. And now you're telling me these things are linked?'

'Judging by the message Sinister Presence left us, sir, what happened at the Arts Institution last night was most probably related. As for his location, I really don't know what to say. We had been closely monitoring any unusual activity for a long time. Everything pointed to his location being the bunker, and I still believe that it was, until he somehow found out we were on to him. But even if we had managed to capture him, I doubt we would have been able to stop the Art Institution attack.'

'Then you should have acted sooner, dude.'

'Sir,' said the man, sounding as if he as trying very hard to restrain his frustration, 'we didn't have adequate intelligence before then. As soon as we knew about the bunker, we acted.'

'Well, dude, zombies are out there and likely to attack again, and it's shit that, like, I don't want to have to deal with. Your team was put together to prevent stuff like this from happening, dude.'

'Sir, we did the best we could.'

'Then your best is wank, dude,' said the Mayor.

Hsing chose that moment to enter. 'Mayor Electric, I'm sorry to interrupt, but as Ambassador of this city I need to know how you're planning to deal with the threat that we are now faced with.'

The Mayor was sat in a high-backed, leather chair with his feet on his desk. 'Ah, Ambassadude,' he said, running a hand through his blonde hair to slick it back. 'This is Cynical Youth,' he gestured to the man, who was wearing black combat trousers and a black shirt. 'They all have funny little codenames like that in Special Ops.

'Calling this whole thing athreat is a bit of an overstatement, though, dude. You know what the press are like. Blowing things way out of proportion all the time, dude.'

'Sir, I was there when it happened. You sent me there, remember? We're in it deep.'

Mayor Electric sighed. 'Well, dude, as Ambassador, it isn't your job to worry about stuff like this. You just keep smiling.'

'Sir, the Ambassador is right,' Cynical Youth spoke. 'Blame my team and I as much as you like for what's happened, but I strongly recommend that we take some kind of action to stop this from getting any worse.'

'Look, just, like, totally chill out, dudes!' said Mayor Electric, irritably. 'It's all under control. Help is already on the way. Now, if you don't mind, dudes, I need to get stuff done around here. You're both, like, relieved of your duties for the weekend. Just relax, dudes, and I'll be seeing you soon.'

Cynical Youth and Hsing left his office in sombre silence, the door closing behind them. 'I don't trust him,' said Cyn.

'Me neither,' said Hsing. 'And the man is sorely mistaken if he thinks he can remove us from the equation that easily.'

* * *

Back in the Mayor’s office, the Mayor exhaled deeply and took his feet off the desk. He opened up his laptop.

BaMessenger™ 2.0

New BaSafe™ means Ba does not sell inferiors’ contact details to any third-party undead entities!

Electric_Dude: You still there?

Jesnails: Yo.

* * *

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!

More! :shock:

[quote:9b29155144="chrisjordan"]'This is Cynical Youth,' he gestured to the man, who was wearing black combat trousers and a black shirt. 'They all have funny little codenames like that in Special Ops.[/quote:9b29155144]


More!

[quote:34259797d3="Delphine"]OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! [/quote:34259797d3]

Also: Shock Horror le Gasp!

(Also, Rinsamien and Kennilesque are starting to unnerve me rather.......)

Jesnails spread her arms out wide, allowing herself to travel messianically through the sky. She wore a suit of dazzling brightness with a high collar, platform boots the same, and aviator sunglasses. Upon her head rested a glorious afro of astronomical proportions, which from certain angles eclipsed the hot, yellow-white ball of the evening sun, burning a silhouette of terrifying magnificence into the eye of the beholder.

Or at least, it would have done if anybody had been watching.

Chugging away, the contraption that was strapped to her back and keeping her in the air burped flamey exhaust and started to issue a trail of black smoke. Jesnails' ride suddenly became considerably less comfortable, her course no longer smooth and straight. She tried to reach behind her to thump the thing into working order again as it started making wet, flatulent sounds.

Then she hit cloud. She flapped her arms about, spitting and spluttering as it tried to invade her nose and mouth.

She began to fall, the rippling exhaust stopping and starting as the engine choked its last few sounds of misery. 'Oooh shizzle,' she said, and dropped like a stone into the sea.

She resurfaced moments later as she ditched the defunct contraption and a special rubber undersuit caused her entire body to expand to sumo-like proportions, unfortunately ruining her suit, although her platforms boots remained intact. She spied land, positioned herself accordingly, gathered her synthetic flab and released the stopper, drifting in the desired direction with ease.

* * *

'Seen any zombies yet?' whispered Plaid, peering over the crate. She had put on her plaid cape, ready for any necessary heroic action.

'No,' said Rinsamien. 'Just pirates.'

'Yarr, welcome aboard!'

A huge ship was docked close by, with masts reaching out towards the heavens and enormous white sails that rippled in the breeze. The ship rose and fell with the current like the calm breathing of a giant beast.

'Yarr, welcome aboard!'

Figures with eyepatches, peg legs and tricorn hats, golden earrings, bandannas and cutlasses, scruffy beards, stuffed parrots and an assortment of mismatched clothes walked up a gangway onto the ship's deck, greeted by a young pirate who stood proudly with his hands on his hips. 'Yarr, welcome aboard!'

'How many pirates are there in this city?' asked Plaid. 'Is it, like, an occupation or a hobby or what?'

'I don't know,' replied Rinsamien. 'But they do this every year or so.'

'Yarr, welcome aboard!'

'I want to go on the ship,' said Kennilesque. 'I want to know what they do on there. Why can't we go on the ship?'

'Containment, Kennilesque, containment,' the Plaid One reminded him. 'If we go on that ship and the zombies turn up, we're trapped.' After a moment, she added, 'We also don't look very much like pirates.'

With the last of the crew on board, Pirate Jordan rubbed his hands together and made his way down into the ship's cellar below the cabin to open up the first barrel of rum.

It was going to be a good night. There would be music, gambling and colourful language, and in a couple of hours' time everyone would be in varying states of lesser consciousness. Then, to finish it off, there would be a massive fireworks display that would impress even the most jaded of seadogs, and give the sleeping landlubbers the fright of their lives.

Plaid yawned.

'I see something!' hissed Kennilesque.

'What? Where?'

'Over there!' he said, pointing. Plaid and Rinsamien followed his finger. Strange figures were lurching from shadow to shadow across the dock, rapidly making their way towards the pirate ship.

'Well, they certainly didn't waste any time,' muttered Plaid. She poised herself ready to attack when they got close, but as she watched them approach she found herself suddenly uncertain.

'There's so many!' said Rinsamien. 'Are we really going to be able to take them all on?'

There were at least a hundred of them, Plaid realised, and a cold feeling of horror churned her stomach. 'We're going to have to,' she replied. 'Now get ready. They're almost here.'

The zombies arrived.

'Now!' shouted Plaid. She jumped forwards, momentarily teasing her way out of the laws of gravity and landing on top of a zombie several feet away, knocking it to the ground. Kennilesque and Rinsamien were right behind her, charging into them with full force, a blur of red satin. They didn't so much fight as demolish, bouncing back and forth between the zombies like demonic pinballs.

But while a dozen or so did linger to fight back, many of the zombies continued to proceed up the gangway, in a surprisingly organised fashion. The pirates, stirred by the commotion on the docks, had already drawn their cutlasses. After one glimpse, they were fully aware of the danger that now faced them, and fought viciously. They stabbed and slashed and hacked away at limbs. Occasionally one of them scored a decapitation, but the zombies were stronger, tougher and, above all, hungrier, and when they started to get hold of the pirates' weapons, the pirates didn't stand a chance.

The zombies began to move into the cabin.

Plaid hopped onto the gangway to dodge a zombie's lunge. She kicked it sharply in the head and it stumbled backwards, stunned.

Kennilesque was spinning around wildly trying to fend them off, his heavy skirts flying outwards as he moved. The zombies started to overwhelm him, however, and one sank its teeth into his tall, intricate wig. He screamed.

Plaid leaped at it and knocked it to the ground, bouncing off the wig in a somersault and landing deftly on her feet. Kennilesque launched himself backwards and sat on it before it could get back up.

Rinsamien had started ramming them off the edge of the docks and into the dark water, removing whole clumps of them at a time as they attempted to cling onto his dress.

* * *

Down in the ship's cellar, Pirate Jordan, a bottle of rum in one hand and a long, ornate pistol in the other, was firing madly at the zombies as they approached. The pistol gave off a smart bang and a wisp of smoke with each shot. He aimed for their heads, accurately eliminating several of them as they advanced, but there were too many of them. They pounced on him and dragged him down.

The pistol fell out of his grip, the bottle smashed, and the candle he had brought down with him was knocked over, falling onto the spilt liquid. A trail of flame snaked across the floor, and a hundred barrels of rum and gunpowder ignited.

A series of spectacular explosions ripped the ship apart, cremating all within. The gigantic masts collapsed and plummeted down to earth, sails ablaze, crashing through the wooden platform of the docks.

And slowly, as the water made its way into the damaged hull, the ship began to sink.

* * *

This boardfic continues to be undisappointing.

:shock: My dear God.

Not afraid of spectacle, are you?

You, sir, are a [i:019f678a0e]literary genius[/i:019f678a0e]. That is all.

Ooft. Superb.

Jesnails in a floating flabsuit! I have no words :shock:

Zombies and pirates fighting, huzzah! I'm hanging with baited breath for the ninjas to turn up too

'So what is this?' asked Hsing, as they made their way down a rung ladder into Cyn's subterranean hideout, the Team Leader going first. He had brought her out to a sparsely forested area not far from the city, pulling open a hidden trapdoor in a seemingly random spot in the dirt.

He jumped down to the metal floor and switched on the light. 'This is our base of operations,' he said. 'Our hangout. Our digs. Our pad.'

Hsing reached the bottom of the ladder and looked around. The place was roughly square, and quite big. A single, naked bulb dangled from the ceiling, and several bunk beds stood at one end. In the centre, upon a metallic, square table, was a collection of computers with LCD screens, at least two coffee-makers, an electric kettle, a miniature fridge, two small TVs, a radio, a microwave and several other appliances. All the wires gathered into a hole in the centre of the table and ran down through the metal tiles on the floor and into the earth below.

'All that stuff on the table is powered by a small generator under our feet. The generator is split up into independent compartments, one device per compartment, so that if one fails, the others will still be operational.

'Each compartment is remotely linked to a special sensor placed somewhere around and about the city. It monitors the area around it for any unusual thermal, magnetic, ultrasonic activity and things like that. When something weird is going on--you know, supernatural weird--the reading for most of these things alters or fluctuates in a way it shouldn't. As soon as this happens, the generator compartment it's linked to is shut off. It has to be something pretty big, though. We use everything on this table at least twice a day. When something stops working, we know we have to check out that area for weird shit.'

Hsing looked at the junk on the table, confused. 'Wouldn’t it be easier and more efficient just to have an alert on a computer or something?' she asked.

'Yeah,' said Cyn, 'but the team generally feel more inclined to do something about it if it breaks something they need. The power isn't restored until whatever it is that's messing with the sensor is sorted out. About a week ago, the microwave stopped working.'

'Right,' said Hsing. 'And what did you find when you went to check it out?'

'Nothing,' said Cyn, simply. He walked over to the microwave. 'Right after that...' He pressed one of the buttons, and the microwave bleeped and lit up. '...the power was back. The next few nights, other things stopped working, but then they always restored again soon after. The zombies must have been moving. The last location we followed up on before the Arts Institution attack was a bunker just outside the city. Since then, it looks like they've moved just too far away for us to detect.'

Hsing looked thoughtful. Then a flashing green 12:00 caught her eye. 'Did that alarm clock just reset itself?' she asked.

Cyn's gaze followed hers. He frowned, and picked up a list from the table that showed which appliances were linked to which areas. 'Hm,' he said, his eyes running down the page. 'That's...the docks.' He looked up at the Ambassador, and she looked back at him.

Then everything went dark.

* * *

'Grace! Wait!'

Grace hurried cautiously towards the burning wreck and crouched down beside the body of a girl. She was lying face up, a plaid cape spread out on the ground beneath her.

Garner followed helplessly. 'Is she alive?'

Grace searched for a pulse. Then she withdrew a small, sleek device from her pocket, dialled a number and placed it to her ear.

'What are you doing?' asked Garner.

'What does it look like?' she replied. 'This girl requires medical attention!'

* * *

The Plaid One was wheeled down a brightly lit corridor by a doctor who would stop at nothing to help those in need; a doctor who had braved the worst of terrible conditions and had Fought For The People on more than one occasion.

That doctor was Doctor Kranti.

And not even Grace and Garner, standing with their feet on the bed's metal frame, could slow her down.

'Will she be alright?' asked Garner.

'Maybe you should loosen her cape so she can breathe more easily,' said Grace. 'I read that capes are the number one killer in dramatic hospital corridor excursions.'

'Corner!' yelled Doctor Kranti, turning sharply left. Grace and Garner held on tight as the forces worked upon them accordingly. Doctor Kranti struggled to regain control of the bed as it threatened to veer off to the side, and then continued to push it forward with all her strength.

'Double doors!' she shouted, joining the others on the bedframe before they crashed through.

* * *

'Erm,' said Cynical Youth. 'That shouldn't have happened.'

'Oh,' said Hsing. 'So what does this mean, then?' she asked, sounding uneasy. 'That there are zombies everywhere?'

'Well, I didn't see any when I was following you,' said a sardonic, female voice right behind Hsing. 'But they may just be good at hiding.'

'Who are you?' demanded Cyn.

'Always a good question to ask first,' replied the voice, 'but I see no reason to answer it. A little advice, though, if I may. Try not to move, or I will damage you.'

'What do you want?' said Cyn, taking care to speak in a more level tone.

'I want you to stop asking questions now,' she replied, 'and just to do as I say. Now, slowly and carefully, lie face down on the floor.'

Slowly and carefully, they did so.

'Now interlock your fingers behind your heads,' she said.

They did that, too.

'And stick your feet up in the air.'

'What?'

'Do it.'

And much to their humiliation, they did it.

There was a small crack, and the woman dropped a green glowstick to the floor. It illuminated her features from beneath in a rather creepy way. She had dark eyes, and a sardonic expression to match her sardonic tone. Her face was framed by dark, curly hair. She was sat on one of the lower bunk beds with her legs crossed, dressed in apparently casual clothes: a white blouse, pink cardigan and jeans. A gun was held casually but nevertheless pointed at them in her right hand.

'Well, this is entertaining,' she said. 'Ambassador, Team Leader: I am here to stop you from getting into any more trouble.'

* * *

'This is most exhilarating,' said a doctor. 'I'm quite astounded that we've never tried it before.'

Several people, mostly members of the hospital staff, were perched on the bedframe, their hands gripping the mattress for support.

'Go faster!' snapped Grace. Garner whimpered and doubled his efforts, and the bed went full-throttle past reception.

Plaid was sat up in the bed, looking at the people assembled around her. 'Hey, I've only just regained consciousness here. Are you sure you should be doing this?'

The hitchhikers ignored her, continuing to issue sounds of glee.

'I have doubts about your professionalism, you know. Hey, you!' she said to Doctor Kranti. 'Give me back my cape!'

* * *

But... but... Mr. Jordan!
You got blown up?

More!

[quote:7623b5bc4c="spiky"]Zombies and pirates fighting, huzzah! I'm hanging with baited breath for the ninjas to turn up too [/quote:7623b5bc4c]
How about Chris the Ninja Pirate ??? (yes, they did it...)

this makes me happy.
i'm glad i took the time our of my insane end-of-semester to read it.

And so it continued to burn.

Onlookers kept their distance for the foul smell of cooked zombieflesh, ever more dominant in the intense heat of the fire.

And through the flame stepped a terrifying apparition, a figure made tall by the ornate monstrosity upon its head, and made disturbingly eminent by the nightmarish red satin that bulged shockingly outwards at the waist, burnt and torn in several places. In one hand it held a cutlass, and in the other, a zombie's head, held by its lank hair.

The onlookers, appalled by the manifestation before them, turned and fled.

Kennilesque threw the head to one side and the cutlass to another. 'I don't know what they're screaming about,' he said, as an almost identical but slightly shorter figure emerged from the flames shortly after. 'All the zombies here are dead.'

'Where's Plaid?' asked Rinsamien.

* * *

Plaid left the hospital rubbing her head. She considered her next move. Unconsciousness had been a slight hindrance, and now she needed to make up for lost time.

She skimmed lightly down the road, her feet barely touching the ground, making a swift return to the obliterated ship to find and make sure the other two weren't hurt.

* * *

'Why are you doing this?' Cyn persisted, as the dark-haired woman examined the equipment on the table. She had bound Cyn and Hsing's hand and feet with cord. 'Are you responsible for the zombies?'

The woman laughed, sounding genuinely amused. 'Well, aren't you just the heroic type,' she said, 'going straight for the big answer. I'm afraid I have nothing to do with your zombie friends.'

'Then why are you holding us here?' asked Hsing.

'I'm just being employed,' the woman replied. 'It's really nothing personal. Stay nice and quiet for a few days and I let you go. Those are the terms of my payment.'

'A few days?'

'Don't worry; I have biscuits. If you're good.'

'What are you?' questioned Hsing. 'A contract babysitter? You say you have nothing to do with the zombies...but then what kind of trouble are you stopping us from getting into, exactly?'

'I am a freelance operative,' she replied, idly playing with a coffee-maker. 'Something I wouldn't change for the world. Only, where there was once the thrill and excitement of saving small children from the open jaws of crocodiles, or freeing the enslaved people of Kooknaboom, there is now financial instability. You are rewarded with glory and honour in the local paper, but, unless you can get a good price for your first-hand story, there is very little money. And so I have had to turn to more dubious work.'

'Wait...' said Hsing. 'Kooknaboom? You're Doctor Kryptlocke? The famous, nay, legendaryaction heroine, Doctor Avgi Kryptlocke?'

'Well, you know...' said Doctor Kryptlocke, with thinly-veiled pride.

'And you're working for the zombies?' Hsing asked, incredulously.

Doctor Kryptlocke looked awkward. 'I'm not working for the zombies!' she snapped.

'Then who are you working for?' asked Cyn.

* * *

Mayor Electric leaned back in his high-backed chair, looking dispassionately at the afro-sporting prodigy before him.

'Yo,' said Jesnails. She wore an identical white suit with high collar to her last, and adjusted her aviator sunglasses, standing with one hand on her hip. 'I's comes all holy and shiznit. I hear yo' after some big ol' exorcismolizzle on y'all creepy undead.'

'Indeed, dude,' said the Mayor, drumming his fingers together. 'I trust you have a plan in mind, dude?'

'Purgizzle theirs unfunky souls with the purizzle melodizzle of the disco!' she announced, striking a demonstrative pose.

'Awesome, dude,' said the Mayor. 'Be seeing you.'

Jesnails nodded, turned, and skated out of the office on her platform boots.

Mayor Electric smiled with satisfaction. She was flawlessly incompetent.

* * *

There really is nothing better for clearing your unsightly undead problem than an attack of the melodizzlisticist discofunk known to man, animal, mineral or jive talkin' deity. SASS 'EM, JESNAILS!

And then get Mayor Electric and wipe that smile off his face.

This continues to be rad to the maximum.

'That bitch!' spat Hsing, writhing on the floor in fury. 'I knew he was a complete and utter idiot, but zombies? Oh, just wait 'til I get my hands around his slimy mayoral neck!'

'Did I touch a nerve?' queried Doctor Kryptlocke.

'As if working for him is any better than working for the zombies themselves!' Hsing said, deploringly.

'You work for him,' Doctor Kryptlocke pointed out.

'Incorrect!' exclaimed Hsing. 'Worked. Past tense! I did not know how deep his worthlessness went!'

'Oh,alright!' said Doctor Kryptlocke, cutting the Ambassador's rant short like an irritable guillotine. 'You and my conscience win!' She sighed deeply. 'Hell, I don't even know how I managed to convince myself any of this was right in the first place. Maybe I didn't.'

Hsing and Cyn stared at her as she came over to them and untied the cord around their wrists and ankles, slightly stunned by their sudden change in circumstance, although Hsing suspected that there had never really been a change in heart.

'You know the way out,' said the Doctor. 'Now go quick, before I start mourning over the luxuries I'll no longer be able to afford.' Then, in a half-whisper, she said, 'I'll miss you, triple chocolate and cream pie.'

Cyn rubbed his wrists, and then placed his hands on one of the metal rungs. Then he turned. 'You know,' he said, 'we could probably use your help.'

'Gah! Fine! Fine. If you insist!' She pushed Cyn out of the way and made her way purposefully up the ladder. 'Fighting the zombies it is!'

'And kicking serious mayoral arse!' declared Hsing, following right behind.

Cyn blinked, shook his head, and followed after them.

* * *

'The zombies were tougher than I thought they'd be,' admitted the Plaid One, as the three of them made their way back to her flat. 'Having a proper plan might have helped.'

'We thought it'd just come to us while we were there,' said Rinsamien. 'Everything happened so fast.'

'Can't be many pirates left now,' said Kennilesque.

'I think even if we can fight off the zombies without the aid of huge, unexpected explosions, there's still going to be more of them. There were way more at the pirate's party than the Arts Institution was reported to have, and it's highly likely that there are going to be even more out there. Maybe they're attacking in waves that will get increasingly bigger, so they gradually weaken the city and then take it over completely.'

'That doesn't seem right, though,' said Kennilesque. 'Zombies don't think stuff through like that, do they? They just attack and eat people.'

'There's some greater mind behind them all, that's obvious,' said Plaid. 'Co-ordinating and directing them. And the chances are, unless we find out where it is they're all coming from, and then deal with their leader or whatever, they're just going to keep on coming.'

* * *

'So what do we do now?' asked Hsing, as the three of them headed back to the city.

'We can't let Mayor Electric know that we know until we're sure he can't act against us. He has to still believe that we're being held by Doctor Kryptlocke,' said Cyn. 'First things first, I'm going to recall the rest of my team. They've been out scouting, trying to follow the zombietrail from our records, but they haven't contacted me, so I doubt they've found anything yet. Beyond the city, they could be hiding anywhere.'

Hsing and Doctor Kryptlocke watched as he unhooked a walkie-talkie from his belt. 'This is Team Leader Cynical Youth. Pick up. Over.'

After a few seconds, a reply came: 'Hey, sir. Over.'

'I'm ordering an immediate team recall. I need you here now. Over,' said Cyn.

'Okay, sir. Oh, and sir? Did you hear about the latest attack? Over.'

'At the docks? Over.'

'Yeah. Over.'

'What happened? Over.'

'We sent DG to check it out. He says about a hundred zombies attacked a pirate ship and blew it up. The attacks are getting worse, sir. Over.'

'Any idea why they chose to attack there?' asked Cyn. 'Over.'

'It was another party, sir. Over.'

Cyn looked up at Hsing. 'Okay. Anyway, like I said, immediate recall. Over and out.' He sighed and faced the two women. 'Another party,' he repeated.

There was a moment of long, thoughtful quietness while the three of them considered their awkward situation.

'Well, the solution's simple,' said Hsing suddenly, and the other two looked at her. 'We throw out own party,' she continued, 'and we draw them out. We give the guests a quick and easy exit for when they arrive, and then we take them on. But we're going to need huge amounts of fire power.'

'I've got some,' said Cyn, 'but probably not enough.'

'Don't worry,' said Doctor Kryptlocke. 'I can get you plenty. Then what?'

'Then we destroy them,' replied the Ambassador. 'Or at least, most of them. They're persistent little bastards, I know that much, but hopefully, if we show them that we're perfectly capable of dealing with them, we can leave a few to scamper back to their hiding place, and, assuming they all come from the same hiding place, we finish them off. Strike them at the source and end the problem. Then we deal with our friend the Mayor.'

'There could be many times the number of zombies we've already seen wherever we end up following them to. We're really going to need a lot of firepower, just in case.'

'I told you, just leave that to me,' said the Doctor. 'Trust me.'

'We're going to have to try and keep hidden while we're following them, in case they try to take us the wrong way,' said Hsing. 'But honestly, I don't think they're that intelligent. All we need to do now,' she announced, 'is organise the party.'

'And how are we going to do that on such short notice?' asked Cyn. 'It's got to be done properly, or they'll sense something's wrong.'

'Oh, it's definitely going to be a proper party,' the Ambassador reassured him. 'We're going to enjoy it, too. I'm going to get in touch with an old friend of mine, a very, er...experienced partygoer. And we're going to make it a night to remember.'

* * *

A figure in a familiar bulging, red satin dress of ridiculous hugeness appeared against the sun rise, the dress billowing out enormously and acting very much like a parachute, meaning that the actual parachute attached to his back was more there for support. He hummed a happy tune as he gently descended, taking a beer bottle from a special belt around his waste, removing the cap with his teeth and spitting it out. He touched down on the roof of a terrace house, his momentum carrying him further, and he maintained forward propulsion, taking a swig from his bottle as he went, before leaving the roof and floating down to earth.

He made his way down the street, bottle in hand, parachute dragging across the ground behind him. A ten-minute journey took him to his prearranged destination: a dilapidated, unused structure, formerly a small warehouse. He thumped the large sheet of plywood that had been propped up in the way of the entrance, and after an eye appeared at a hole and inspected him, the sheet of plywood was pulled to one side.

'He's here,' a woman with dark, curly hair and a pink cardigan called to the others.

Ambassador Hsing appeared. 'Nester!' she cried, giving him a warm hug. 'You made it!'

'Indeed I did,' said Nester, smiling stupidly and lifting the beer bottle to his mouth mid-embrace. 'What can I do for you?'

* * *

The Plaid One was slouched on her sofa, brooding about the stubborn problem of vicious undead. She hated feeling so helpless in the face of their threat. She let herself slide off the sofa and onto the floor, where she glared at the ceiling, trying to intimidate it into offering some solutions.

'Plaid!' came Kennilesque's voice, as he and Rinsamien burst through the door with the urgency of small children wanting to show a grown-up something amazing they'd found. 'Plaid! Look at this!'

The Plaid One craned her neck to look. 'What?' She sat up as several layers of skirt came bustling her way, and Kennilesque thrust a piece of paper out in front of her. It was a flyer. She took it and scanned it with keen, laser-like efficiency.

'You have got to be joking,' she said.

* * *

Plaid hurried up the stone steps, her plaid cape flowing out behind her, and hammered on the huge, oak doors. 'Open up!' she demanded.

A man in black combat trousers and shirt pulled it open a crack. 'Yes?' he said.

Seeing the walkie-talkie attached to his belt, Plaid assumed he was some kind of janitor. 'I understand there's going to be a party here tonight,' she said.

'Yes,' replied the man. 'Seventy quid for entry.'

'Okay, first off, that is the biggest rip-offever,' said the Plaid One. 'And second, what the heck do you think you're doing having a party tonight?! Don't you know there are zombies? I mean, are you asking for trouble?!'

'Yes,' said the man.

'This is way too serious for sarcasm, you know, so don't even try it!'

'I'm not being sarcastic.'

'Cyn?' came a voice from inside the building. 'Who is that?'

Plaid pushed open the door, forcing Cyn to step back. 'I am the Plaid One,' she informed them, entering. 'I am trying to protect this city! At least, when I'm not unconscious.'

'Hi there, Plaid,' said Ambassador Hsing, walking up to her and shaking her hand. 'We've met before, at another party, haven't we? That was a few years ago, though. How are you? I heard you were in some kind of accident!'

'Er...yeah,' said Plaid. 'I've needed a little time to recover, but I'm almost there. I came back to the city as soon as I heard about the attack on the Arts Institution.'

Hsing shivered. 'It was pretty horrific,' she said.

'You were there?' asked Plaid.

'Yes.'

Plaid looked puzzled. 'Then surely you're aware of the danger? I apologise for my abrupt entrance, Ambassador, but any kind of party on this scale is going to attract unwanted attention!'

Hsing smiled. 'We know,' she said. 'That's why we're doing it.'

'We're going to take them on,' said Cyn, walking past with something that looked very much like a rocket launcher.

'But,' said Plaid, 'what about the safety of the guests?'

'That's why the cost for entry is so high,' explained Hsing. 'So in the end, less people turn up. That, and damage costs,' she added. 'The guests that do turn up will be escorted safely from the building, but we need to make it as convincing as possible, so we need some guests at least.'

'But what if there are more zombies out there after you've killed all the ones that turn up?'

'Don't worry, we have a plan. We're going to kill them off at the source. Find their hidey-hole, and then deal with Mayor Electric. He's behind it all, by the way, so we can't let him find out what we're up to.'

'What?'

Hsing took Plaid away to explain the finer details of everything to her, and Rinsamien and Kennilesque were left standing there, looking around, and feeling like they should be doing something.

The huge building they were in was Piggly Hall, a popular location for many flamboyant occasions. They were stood in the vast ballroom, which had a marble floor with an intricate design centred around the Piggly family crest, although the family hadn't owned it for centuries. The ballroom was lined with several large, oak doors, some of which led to an upper level where small balconies jutted out from the sides, presumably for viewing the dancers below.

'Hey there!' said Nester, appearing from nowhere.

Rinsamien gasped. 'Nester! What are you doing here?'

'Oh, just organising the best party ever,' he said, grinning. 'Food, drink and loud music. The magic formula.' He sidled up to them and whispered, 'Would you like to see the cake?'

They stared at him with wide eyes, and nodded emphatically.

'Then follow me.'

* * *

Cyn, still carrying things around, kept getting distracted by what was going on around him. He stopped to watch the kitchen staff set up the buffet, and then chided himself for not focusing. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep his mind on the threat at hand.

[quote:bb964282e7]'We're going to take them on,' said Cyn, walking past with something that looked very much like a rocket launcher.
[/quote:bb964282e7]

Woohoo!! *Punches air*

'I've never been to a ridiculously expensive party before!' Doctor Kranti said brightly.

'Indeed!' said another doctor. 'So nice of you to agree to pay for all of this, Garner!'

'I didn't agree to anything, I was tortured,' mumbled Garner, and Grace elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

The group gravitated immediately towards the buffet table.

Ambassador Hsing smoothed out her black dress and smiled as they passed. For the thirteenth time that evening, she glanced up nervously at the upper-level balconies, where the others were preparing.

On one of the balconies crouched Plaid, Cyn and Doctor Kryptlocke. Plaid was sizing up a long, shiny katana, while Cyn was inspecting a pair of uzis. Doctor Kryptlocke was fondly cradling a machine gun. Other weapons lay around them in half-unpacked crates and boxes, partly submerged under a carpet of polystyrene bits.

On another balcony diagonally opposite, three men in huge, bulging red dresses and a set of decks were vying for room. Nester's violent head-bobbing as he wiggled and scratched away at a classical record only made things worse.

Hsing absentmindedly stuffed her face full of party-sized sausage rolls. Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she span on her heel and smiled, her mouth still bulging.

Plaid raised an eyebrow at her, and she dropped the smile. 'Doctor Kryptlocke says you should come and pick a weapon before they get here.'

'Oh. Okay then.' She followed the Plaid One to one of the oak doors marked 'No Entry' and made her way up to the balcony.

'Pick a weapon, any weapon,' said Doctor Kryptlocke. As Hsing rummaged, the Doctor peered down at the people below. 'There's a good number of guests down there,' she said. She gazed thoughtfully at them. 'And probably not long before all the food is gone.' She stood up and stepped over the boxes to the door. 'I'll go and tell the ladies around the decks to come up here,' she said, 'subtly detouring on my way to gather a considerable supply of buffet offerings.'

Hsing blew bits of polystyrene off a long, rectangular crate, removed the lid, dug through more polystyrene bits and pulled out a strange, cylindrical object with a skeletal frame of criss-crossing metal ribs. It contained a tangle of wires inside and ended in a snout of three protruding barrels. Attached to the frame were two handles beneath it and some rather odd-looking additions on either side.

'What's this?' she asked.

Cyn shrugged. 'Go and ask Doctor Kryptlocke. Wait, wait, wait! Don't take that thing with you! It'll scare the guests. At the moment they think we're just technicians.'

The Ambassador carefully rested the unusual weapon in its box, and then went down to the lower level. A moment later, Kennilesque and Rinsamien appeared, and wasted no time before squabbling over the rocket launcher.

Back at the buffet table, Doctor Kryptlocke was pondering over which savoury delight to try next.

Doctor Kranti joined her, seeking trifle. 'Good party, eh?'

Doctor Kryptlocke broke from her pondering and turned to look at her. 'Er. Yes,' she said.

'Omelia Kranti,' said Doctor Kranti, offering a hand. 'And you are?'

Doctor Kryptlocke shook it. 'Avgi Kryptlocke,' she replied.

Doctor Kranti's smile faltered, and she froze. 'Really?' she said, trying her best to sound nonchalant. Her eye was twitching.

Doctor Kryptlocke withdrew her hand and moved away.

'Doctor Kryptlocke!' called Hsing, running over and whispering a question into her ear.

Above, Nester continued his partying rage, emptying the entire contents of several bottles of beer all over the balcony in psychotic celebration.

Plaid was looking out across the city for any sign of zombies. The city seemed quite quiet beyond the party. Just the approaching wave of a few hundred strange figures lurching silently down the street...

'Woah,' said Plaid, and went to get the others.

'Apparently,' Hsing was saying to Cyn, 'this is the classic 409244 model Mega Frazzler.' She lifted it up and pointed it experimentally at the ballroom down below. 'It releases unmeasured but by all means high voltage beams of electricity and can do various marvellous things to the insides of both electronics and living organisms. To its left side is fixed a small rear-view mirror, and to its right, a cup holder. Nothing quite like it has ever been built.'

The door burst open. 'Zombies!' warned Plaid. 'Coming in fast!'

'Ooh shit,' said Ambassador Hsing. She stood up and made her way to the edge of the balcony. 'Ladies and gentlemen!' she called.

Nobody heard. The music was too loud.

Cyn loaded his uzis and emptied two full clips into the speakers. They fell to the floor with a crash, and the party guests jumped back in alarm. Nester snapped back to his senses and cut the music.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' repeated Hsing, 'zombies are rapidly approaching the building! Please use the fire exits behind the buffet immediately!'

There were screams of panic, and most of the guests rushed in a well-dressed wave to escape, knocking over the buffet table and carrying the kitchen staff with them.

'Hm,' said Doctor Kranti, throwing her bowl of trifle to one side.

'We need to spread out,' said Cyn. 'I'll take the balcony opposite. Plaid, take these two and go up to that one,' he said, pushing Rinsamien and Kennilesque towards the door and pointing to the balcony adjacent. 'Ambassador, you stay here. Doctor Kryptlocke? With Nester already. Good.

'Right, everybody take what weapons you need and lock the doors behind you! They'll be here any second!'

And then they arrived, crashing through the huge oak doors with ease and pouring into the ballroom.

'Doctor Kranti!' yelled Grace. 'Come on! Quickly!'

Rinsamien shoved a rocket into the launcher resting upon Kennilesque's shoulder.

Doctor Kranti turned. 'I might be able to trick them into participating in a tightly choreographed dance routine!' she yelled back, running at the zombies and throwing herself into a violent boogie. The zombies were momentarily stunned by this onslaught, but quickly recovered and lurched after her, groaning their dissent.

'Nope, didn't work!' she said, running away with a shriek. Grace grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the exit.

Rinsamien whacked Kennilesque over the head, and Kennilesque fired the rocket. At almost the same moment, Plaid leapt up onto the edge of the balcony and jumped, the katana glittering in her hands. Doctor Kranti slammed the door shut behind her just as the rocket hit her pursuers, decimating them. The first wave down, the Plaid One had sliced the heads off three of the next lot before she had even touched the ground. She then proceeded to slash and stab at any zombie that dared to approach. She managed to skewer two at the same time, straight through their stomachs like a zombie kebab, and kicked at their heads while they tried to pull themselves free.

The others were busy firing from their safe platforms, but it soon became apparent that they needed to fight at close range. The Mega Frazzler heated up with an increasingly high-pitched whine before it discharged and three intertwining snakes of blue light leapt down and scorched some zombie heads, setting their lank hair on fire. It took a while for them to notice.

Rinsamien whacked Kennilesque over the head again, and another rocket was fired, obliterating a cluster of zombies well clear of Plaid as they tried to break through the doors leading up to Doctor Kryptlocke and Nester's balcony. They removed the zombies, but completely destroyed the door, and other zombies poured through.

As they hammered on the door to the balcony itself, a disorientated Nester fell off and had to drunkenly fight them off down below. Doctor Kryptlocke fired a grappling hook at the chandelier, emptied her machine gun into the zombies as they broke through the door, discarded it, turned and jumped from the balcony. Holding onto the black rope, she swept the floor, grabbing hold of Nester by the scruff of his dress. Fortunately, they swung high enough to land on top of Hsing when Nester's weight forced the Doctor to let go.

Kennilesque fired another rocket at the balcony directly across as the zombies stumbled over Nester's decks. The balcony collapsed, and stone and zombie rained down on the marble floor below. Rinsamien scowled and whacked Kennilesque over the head for not waiting until he'd whacked him over the head in the first place, and Kennilesque fought back.

Pushing Nester off her, Ambassador Hsing got up, straightened her dress and grabbed the Mega Frazzler. Then she climbed over the edge of the balcony, lowered herself down, dangled for a moment and then dropped to the ground, the attention of the zombies already on her. Cyn slowed down their approach as they stumbled under his continuous spray of bullets while the Frazzler charged up, and then the force of the electric beams was so great that it hurled a couple of zombies backwards into the air. It was much more effective at close range.

Cyn climbed down to join her, and they fought back-to-back, spinning around slowly.

Doctor Kryptlocke found herself a shotgun, and, joining the others on the ballroom floor, shrieked with glee as she fought off the zombies in explosions of zombie gore.

Plaid, once again light-footedly defying the laws of gravity, ran up and along a wall, throwing herself into a sideways flip, decapitating another zombie on landing and thrusting the katana's long blade up through the throat of another.

Cyn reloaded with the spare clips on his belt in a moment of respite, and glanced up at Kennilesque and Rinsamien, gaping in disbelief as he watched them launch themselves at the zombies who had broken through the door, sink their teeth into their rotting green flesh and rip them apart. He was about to fire at a group of zombies in front of him when he realised that they were stumbling backwards to try and get away.

He hurried over to Hsing, who rammed the Frazzler backwards into a zombie's chest as she saw it approach in the weapon's rear-view mirror. 'I think they're starting to retreat!' he said to her.

Even as they began to lurch towards the exit, Plaid ran after them, slicing them up and inflicting her many martial skills upon them, clearly enjoying it too much to finish just yet.

Doctor Kryptlocke wiped the gore from her shotgun. 'Looks like your plan is working, Ambassador,' she said.

Rinsamien and Kennilesque jumped from their balcony and floated down to the ground. Kennilesque still had zombie around his mouth. Nester followed after throwing down the crates so they could all refresh their supplies.

'Can we follow them now? Can we?' said Plaid, jumping up and down and swiping at the air.

'Yes, quickly!' said Hsing. 'We can't let them out of our sight!'

And so they pursued roughly two dozen zombies through the darkened, eerily abandoned streets, cautiously following them around every corner and through tight alleyways, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Those with heavy skirts had them lifted up off the ground.

'My feet hurt!' hissed Rinsamien.

'Shut up!' said Plaid.

The group were creeping down a main street when something both terrible and amazing happened. A deep rumbling rolled throughout the city, causing the very ground beneath their feet to shake. They struggled to keep their balance, and the zombies, suffering from the same problem, began to turn around to see what was causing it. The group only just managed to pull themselves into the shadows out of sight, and from there they watched unbelievable new events unfold.

The earthquake grew more intense; car alarms went off, and things started to move around and break. Then, the group of vigilantes watching in horror, the buildings some distance away started to crumble like they were being upheaved by something and pushed outwards.

Two huge shafts of light suddenly exploded from the epicentre of the chaos, moving around and sweeping the sky like searchlights. Following them, a huge, circular metal frame erupted from the earth, a giant, sparkling white ball suspended in the middle of it, glittering in the light. Hsing realised most of the quake was being caused by the unbelievable amounts of bass being blown out by speakers attached to the frame.

The metal ring was attached by further framework to a shining, circular platform of equal width, supported below by scaffolding. Once this had achieved an appropriately impressive height, the rumbling bass gave way to the incredibly amplified sound of feedback, which caused everyone to cry out and cover their ears.

Then it subsided, and what came through the speakers then could only be described as...

'Disco?!' said Cyn, incredulous.

Then floodlights flickered on, casting their harsh glare across the city and illuminating the stage.

And there, on the stage, stood the afro-sporting messiah that was Jesnails.

One hand was resting upon an out-jutting hip and the other pointing unabashedly to the sky like a Saturday Night Teapot. Her bright white suit and high collar sparkled with a new addition of silver sequins, and her platform boots elevated her higher than ever before.

Then she spoke into the microphone.

'YO, MA PEOPIZZLES!' she announced. 'WE GONNA RIZZLE THIS CITIZZLE TONIGHT, Y'ALL! THIS IS HOW THE DEE-VINE LIKE TO DANCE, BRUTHAS! WITNESS THE HOLY FUNK!'

And the entire city did, both shocked and awed at the super-slick dancefloor groove displayed before them.

The zombies started to lurch towards her, fascinated.

'Oh no you don't!' said Hsing, stepping out in front of them with the Mega Frazzler aimed at their heads. They dared to take a step further, and there was a shrill whine before three beams of electricity hit one in the chest and sent it flying backwards. Cyn and the others formed an armed barricade with Hsing across the street, all of their weapons aimed and ready to fire.

The zombies groaned in dismay, turned and fled. Hsing and her companions ran after them.

'I SEE YO', ZOMBIZZLES!' boomed a voice. The previously unseen jetpack attached to Jesnails' back flared to life against her incredibly thermal-resistant suit, and she dived off the stage in a running jump, rocketing after them. 'AND I'M COMIN' TO GET Y'ALL!'

Oh my god!

Tres impressive fight scenes! Where's Mayor Electric in all this? Is Jesnails MARTYRING herself!? Is Plaid going to go into therapy for her wanton bloodlust? Wow wow wow. Give us more.

[quote:a2e6b2246e="chrisjordan"] One hand was resting upon an out-jutting hip and the other pointing unabashedly to the sky like a Saturday Night Teapot.[/quote:a2e6b2246e]



And now....: More!

The zombies moved fast. They lurched through street after street and out of the city, well aware of the pursuers at their heels. Hsing and the others were no longer trying to remain inconspicuous, moving just quickly enough to keep reminding the zombies that they were there and that they could blow them to bits with ease if they slowed.

Jesnails, having nearly caught up with them, had suddenly dropped out of the sky, and not been seen since.

They followed the zombies across thick, marshy grass, their formal evening attire and heavy dresses entirely unsuitable for the task, now a good way away from the city beyond the reaches of Cynical Youth's sensors.

'We should have brought cake,' said Rinsamien. 'I want cake.'

And then the zombies disappeared.

'Where'd they go?' said Plaid.

The group slowed to an exhausted stop and looked around.

Cyn froze and listened, trying to quieten his own heavy breathing. 'Can you hear that?' he asked the others.

'What?'

The group strained their ears.

'It's...it's like a...'

The faintest of sounds touched the edge of hearing, an almost insectile buzz sounding nearer and nearer every second.

They looked around nervously, fearing horrors from the dark, their hands tightening around their weapons.

And then came Jesnails, accompanied by the struggling motorised whirr of the wheels in her bulky platform boots. Having provided her with much speed on the asphalt of the city streets (once she had stopped rolling into buildings), they now churned almost helplessly on the grass, and she progressed with a snail-like pace, tipping and tilting with the ground's various undulations.

Cyn sighed wearily as she passed, facing straight ahead. Plaid glared at her, and Hsing threw down her weapon in despair, rubbing her sore, bare feet.

And then Jesnails dropped down a hole.

They crowded around it and looked down. It was small and pitch-black, almost completely hidden in the grass.

'Heh,' said Cyn. 'I think we found their hiding place.'

'Are we going to go down there?' asked Plaid. 'What if it's a trap?'

'We're armed,' said Cyn. He pressed a small button on his belt, switching on a tracking device. 'My team'll be here soon with the Mayor. But I think we should go down now. If they are down there, they could be moving on already.'

'I'll stay here and wait for your team,' said Doctor Kryptlocke. 'We'll follow you in once they get here.'

Hsing had already lowered herself into the hole. 'My legs are still intact,' she said, only her head still visible. 'So no zombies within immediate proximity, I don't think.' She kicked experimentally at the sides of the hole. 'Hm,' she said. 'It doesn't go straight down. It curves. I think it's a...a slide or something.

'As Ambassador, I'd better go and say hello, I think,' she said, and smiled warmly. Before the others could say anything else, she let go of the edges and disappeared.

Doctor Kryptlocke cracked a few glowsticks and threw them down after her, and then Plaid and the others followed, leaving only the Doctor behind to wait for the Mayor.

Hsing skidded to a halt at the bottom practically upright, kicking up clouds of dirt.

She picked up a glowstick. It didn't reveal much ahead of her, but it wasn't the stuffy, enclosed space she had been expecting, although there was still a horrible stench in the stale air. She sensed a much more open space in front of her, and this made her feel exposed and vulnerable. They could have been watching her while she couldn't see them.

And indeed they were, as she found out when bright white circles of fluorescent light embedded in Jesnails' afro illuminated everything.

Plaid appeared at her side. 'Woah,' she said.

They were in some kind of vast underground mausoleum. Jesnails stood down below them, standing on what looked like a stone altar in the middle of an open space. Above her were several levels of stone platforms that ran around the edges of the chamber. Plaid and Hsing were stood on one side of the first. Lots and lots of zombies glared across and down at them from everywhere else, standing at the edges in front of huge, bathtub-sized stone coffins, propped upright against the walls, their great slabs of lids moved aside.

'What the...' said Cyn, as he and the others joined them.

'ZOMBIZZLES!' shouted Jesnails, her outstretched hand apparently clutching a gold crucifix, which she had snapped from a previously concealed chain around her neck. 'TONIGHT IS EXORCISMOLIZZLE NIGHT! COME FACE Y'ALL DESTINY!'

Several zombies, growling, dropped from their high platforms to sort her out. She waited for them to approach, and then thrust the crucifix into the nearest one's forehead. There was a horrifying hiss, the zombie cried out, and smoke curled up from where the hot side of the crucifix had some into contact with its flesh. The zombie stumbled backwards. Jesnails turned, knocked aside another zombie's outstretched hand with the crucifix's longest arm, and then did the same again to this one's face.

Outraged, the rest of them attacked. Plaid was the first of the group to set about putting them down, and did so in the same slicehappy way she had adopted earlier. Following her lead, Hsing charged up the Mega Frazzler and watched the snaked of light dance around in front of her, doing visibly unpleasant things to zombies' faces.

As their weapons fired, the mausoleum became filled with noise and chaos.

'I'm running out of ammo!' cried Cyn, eventually, hitting one of the zombies across the head with the butt of his assault rifle. Another caused him to back down onto the lower level, where some of the others had already been forced. More and more zombies continued to appear, coming out from dark holes like maggots. They were overwhelming.

Hsing struggled to fight back as they closed in on her and grabbed hold of her arms. The Mega Frazzler clattered to the ground. There was no way of escaping.

'BACK OFF OR MASTER GETS HIS BRAINS BLOWN OUT!' boomed a voice that resounded throughout the chamber. The zombies paused and all turned to see Doctor Kryptlocke standing with a pistol to Mayor Electric's temple, flanked by the three remaining members of Cyn's team.

Mayor Electric didn't dare to move. His face was white and drawn.

Hsing looked from Doctor Kryptlocke to the zombies, waiting for what would happen next.

What she didn't expect was laughter. It came from one of the upper levels, and it was unkind, mocking, and distinctly evil. Hsing squinted, and thought she could make out a pale figure standing at the edge of the platform. 'Go ahead,' it said. 'Blow his worthless brains out. You're still going to die.'

Everyone stared up at him. 'Who are you?' demanded Cyn.

'Wait,' said Nester. 'I know that voice...'

'What?' said the figure, peering down into the darkness below. 'Who's that?'

Nester shrugged off the zombies holding onto him as they stared around bemusedly, and stepped forwards. 'What are you doing here, boss?' he asked.

'What am I doing here? What are you doing...gah, don't you ever just stay at home and not interfere with everything?!'

Kennilesque, a little slow, gasped.

'What?' said Rinsamien, even slower. Then, realising: 'Oh!' And then he gasped too.

'Orrdos...' said Plaid, in disbelief.

'Aye!' he said. 'Killed in an unfortunate space-time collapse but now risen from the dead and existing as the indestructible Zomborr!' he declared, throwing up his arms.

To this, nobody said anything. Jesnails scratched her nose.

'REVENGE!' shrieked Zomborr, killing the silence. 'Horrific and bitter revenge! Never again will I be forgotten so easily!'

'Yo, Mayor,' said Jesnails. 'Just which one o' yo' am I exorcisin' here?'

Mayor Electric whimpered. Keeping the gun to his head, Doctor Kryptlocke pushed him forwards. 'You and the Mayor were working together?' she demanded.

Mayor Electric cried out and managed to slip out of her grip. He stumbled forwards, laughing hysterically, and the zombies parted in his way.

Doctor Kryptlocke quickly recovered and aimed the pistol. 'I can still shoot you,' she said.

Mayor Electric sniffed. He looked at her, swaying. 'Do you dudes even know how hard it is to be, like, Mayor?' he moaned. 'I have pressures, dudes!'

Hsing pushed her way through the zombies towards him. 'So you thought you'd kill off half the city by having them eaten alive?' she shouted, walking right up to him and grabbing hold of his shirt.

'Look, dude,' he said, leaning away from her, 'let me explain the deal.'

She let go and pushed him away. 'I'm listening,' she said.

'He promised me control, dudes!' said the Mayor, raising his voice. 'I fucking hate this city! You dudes are always whinging! You, like, have to learn to FUCKING CHILL OUT! But, you never do. But see, if you were all, like, zombies, you'd be so much easier to control. And so easy to satisfy! The deal was, Ambassadude, that I got to stay in my office being all, you know, like, Mayorand chilled out, and Orrdude made the city, like, a totally better place.'

'BRINGING THE CITY TO ITS KNEES THROUGH SYSTEMATIC TERROR!' interjected Zomborr.

'Yeah,' said Mayor Electric.

'And I'll still get away with it too, despite you meddling transvestites!' he added.

'And the ultimate best part,' continued Mayor Electric, 'was where I, like, totally fooled you all by hiring that complete loser to come and do stuff about it. Haha. I rock.

'And now that you're all, like, cosy and stuff here, I'll be seeing you.'

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, and Jesnails slammed the crucifix into his face. His wail was spine-chilling and lengthy as his features melted away. Then he passed out, and dropped to the floor.

'But how exactly did you strike this deal?' asked Plaid, drawing her eyes away from the Mayor's decrepit body and looking up at Zomborr. 'You spoke to him from beyond the grave or what?'

'BaMessenger,' said Zomborr, simply. 'Instant messaging is the new and convenient portal for worldwide and efficient contact with the dead!'

'I think we need to send Ba a stern email,' said Doctor Kryptlocke. 'This can't keep happening.'

'A few silly hand gestures, a little bit of blood and a bookful of dead language later, your old friend is back and here to spread the joy! You doomed bastards. And, diabolically, the only way you can stop us is to destroy me, and I'm all the way up here and out of your petty little mortal reach! Ha ha ha!'

Jesnails hurled the crucifix up at him, and it span through the air with style, hitting him on the head with astounding accuracy. 'Ooft,' he said, and dropped from his great height all the way down to meet them. He groaned and slowly got up.

Kennilesque made his way over to him, and rested a hand on his shoulder. 'You're a decent man, boss, but you're giving a bad name to cannibalism, and I'm afraid we just can't let that happen.'

Zomborr scowled. 'Traitors,' he said.

Kennilesque stepped back, and Ambassador Hsing stepped forwards, lifting the snout of the Mega Frazzler up level with his head. 'This time, stay dead,' she said. There was an increasingly high-pitched whine as the Mega Frazzler charged up, and then three snakes of light hit him in the face, sending him flying across the mausoleum.

At the same time, every reanimated corpse present flopped to the ground.

Plaid nudged one with her foot. 'Yep,' she said. 'They're all nice and properly dead.'

Hsing sighed and dropped the Mega Frazzler on the ground. She rubbed her eyes. 'Finally,' she said, her voice a half-whisper.

'Let's get out of here,' said Doctor Kryptlocke. She walked back to the mouth of the slide and began to climb up a length of black cord she had secured to the skids of the grounded helicopter up above. Slowly, wearily, the others followed her, leaving the dead, and the Mayor, behind.

Except for Jesnails, who had already disappeared.

* * *

BaMessenger™ 2.0

BaMessenger™, still here after yet another threat to inferiorkind's existence!

FormerPirateJordan: Yarr! I speak to ye from beyond my watery grave! [evilBa]

Plaid: go away, kid.

FormerPirateJordan: Ye cannot vanquish I! I plague ye soul forevarrrr! Yarrrrrrrrrr!

EvilGoatSpirit: Meeeeeeeuurrrrrrrrr! [evilgoatBa]

Plaid: oh great. you again.

FormerPirateJordan: Gah! Avast ye, goat! [avastBa]

BaMessenger™ 2.1 is now available! Featuring NecromanSafe™, for blocking unwanted spiritual contacts! Click to download.

FormerPirateJordan: Yarr, crap. [sulkingBa]

FormerPirateJordan has been removed from the conversation.

EvilGoatSpirit has been removed from the conversation.

* * *

Closing theme: Juno Reactor - Mutant Message

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




Thanks for reading.

Wait, we were meant to read it?!?






[color=white:39b64100b3]secretly: very funny conclusion, a fitting end to the story

but what happened to those that didn't die?[/color:39b64100b3]

Wowizzle. Good job Chris!

Bravo! Huzzah! Encore! ENCORE!

Hell, thanks for writing. 'Zombizzles' alone made my week.....I kept chuckling to myself in public and being unable to explain what had amused me

*hands cj a beer* in official bar wench capacity, I declare cj worthy of all the free alcohol he can consumer before closing time at the church of Doors (even if he is dead again).

Bravo.