Hell yeah.

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

*Cackles maniacally at power wielded by self* :p

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.'

amelia: yo
i am a yoyo.

Chris: yes

*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.

amelia: yo
i am a yoyo.

Chris: yes

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!

More!

That would also be... CONDENSATION.

[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.

amelia: yo
i am a yoyo.

Chris: yes

This boardfic continues to be undisappointing.

(Playing blind Pictionary, me drawing)
Ella: Is it a giraffe?
Me (stops drawing): No
Ella: Star Trek?
Me: Yes!

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

That would also be... CONDENSATION.

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

PhD Student: Research information sheet

There once was a man named Bruce
Who liked to sit on a spruce
He ate lots of chowder
And yelled at me louder:
"I'm talking to YOU, Mrs. Hughes!"
--> The Literary Genius: Mowgli

Very much action. Cool.

"Hoher Sinn liegt oft im kindischen Spiel." (Friedrich Schiller)

'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!'

amelia: yo
i am a yoyo.

Chris: yes