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#1MantleNotMousePosted 12/19/2007 10:22:56 PM
“That’s nice,” the woman assures him, emitting even more happiness. “Gunther, do you remember what day it is?” she asks, causing the man to sigh and roll his eyes.

“Of course I remember, mother,” Gunther assures her, trying to stifle a sarcastic, annoyed tone. “I am smart enough to remember my own birthday, you know…”

“Oh, baby,” his mother responds with a hint of shock in her voice, “I know you’re smart…and so handsome,” she compliments as she rubs a spec of ink off of his right hand.

“Oh, stop pampering him, Martha,” a crass voice interrupts. A silver-haired man in a collared shirt emerges from the kitchen, carrying a beer can in his right hand. “He’s twenty-four years old, for God’s sake.”

Still hiding the annoyance, Gunther manages to mumble, “I’m actually twenty-six, dad…”

“Twenty-six, huh?” the father asks, pretending to have a genuine interest.

“Oh, Charlie, stop joking with him,” the mother chuckles, hoping that her husband hasn’t forgotten his own child’s age. “I hope you’re hungry, dear. I fixed your favorite dinner.”

A glimmer of excitement sparkles in the eyes of the son as he finally makes eye contact with one of his parents. “Really?” he asks, the pitch of his voice spiking a little. “We’re having chicken parmesan cooked with a slow broil and seasoned with oregano and a hint of cayenne pepper?”

The mother chuckles politely, placing her hand on her son’s cheek. “My boy, such a kidder. Such a kidder. You get that from your father, you know?”she asks, rhetorically. “Now, go change for dinner, dear. The barbeque ribs will be ready in fifteen minutes. I do know how you love ribs,” she assures herself as Gunther offers a fake, forced smile.
#2MantleNotMouse(Topic Creator)Posted 12/20/2007 11:44:31 PM
Action Squad:
Action Packed!!! Issue #001: Dream Team

The howling winds of a hurricane pound the Golden Gate Bridge relentlessly. The tension cables snap and fall onto the cars below. People scream and leap out of the way, trying hopelessly to find their way off of the bridge that has become a horrific scene of nature’s destruction. Just as the hurricane’s outer winds begin to twist and contort the metal, a beacon of gradient-colored hope appears on the horizon.

In the distance, on a flight joyride, Crimson Turbo is making his way towards the Golden Gate Bridge. Although the trip was initially for sightseeing purposes, the media darling spots the potential headline story in progress and immediately realizes that an event this big could allows him to save several hundred lives, and, hey, maybe some sponsorship dollars could come from it. Reaching into his pocket, Turbo changes the song on his Microsoft Zune [“Sponsor gifts rule!” – Crimson Turbo] and puts his headphones in as James Hetfield’s voice fills his ears. He puts a fist out and races towards the bridge while Metallica reminds him just what he is: Hero of the Day.

Braving the roaring winds and stinging rain, Turbo pushes forth towards his destination as the bridge full of onlookers watch in awe, and hope. The Anaheim Avenger is applauded as he lowers from the sky, landing in the middle of the historical bridge. He wipes the water from his goggles and takes out his headphones before addressing the screaming masses.

“Never fear, good people of Ana…uh….San Francisco,” Turbo says, his routine interfering with the actual situation at hand. He laughs and offers a weak “my bad” before continuing, “Crimson Turbo is here!”

He turns, being serious for a minute, and sizes up the hurricane. The pelting rain, violent winds, and mass destruction catch him off guard as he suddenly realizes something…you can’t burn or freeze a force of nature…He gulps and decides to blindly throw his powers at it until something works. Holding his left hand forward, he creates a barricade of ice across the side of the bridge, hoping that the wind won’t be able to penetrate the barrier. However, his hope is destroyed as the ice crumbles, sending chunks of frozen water scattering across the bridge, bouncing off cars like hail. Turbo is forced to dodge left as a rather large, television-sized block of ice rushes towards his head. He turns to see the ice is now traveling on a path to strike a minivan, containing four people. Unable to react, he watches on in horror.
#3MantleNotMouse(Topic Creator)Posted 12/23/2007 1:04:11 AM
Meanwhile, Milton Simmons was trying to better his life: starting with social skills. The fallout of his house being demolished had landed him in a temporary living arrangement with one of his fellow coworkers, an accountant by the name of Corey James. Corey had always been one of the few who extended a helping hand towards Milton, always inviting him to parties, get togethers, and luncheons with other coworkers. Usually, Milton never accepted these invitations, but this night had been different. Milton Simmons was a new man; a man who accepted invitations.

Seated on the third base side of the stadium, Milton and around twelve of his coworkers were enjoying the game and chatting idly about office gossip. Apparently, the secretary was trying to have an affair with one of the bosses. Milton made a mental note of this, much like he always had when his mother and her friends spilled the beans on one another. It wasn’t necessarily a fact that could benefit him, but Milton found it good to always be prepared and have some dirt on people, just incase they did not want to cooperate.

“Milton,” a voice rang out from three rows back. “Hey, Simmons, is that you?”

Milton, trying to place a finger on where he’d heard the familiar voice before, turned around and began searching the stands for a familiar face. It took him a while, but he eventually found the man calling his name, much to his horror. Three rows back sat a high school ‘acquaintance’ named Chuck Vick. The All-County wide receiver had been a thorn in Milton’s side since third grade, constantly berating him about his name and teasing him for being so close to his mother and so…awkward…around other females. It was all Chuck’s fault that a rumor of incestuous activity spread across the campus like wildfire junior year; prompting Mackenzie to stop talking to him and ending a friendship that Milton would never be able to rekindle. As luck would have it, just as soon as Milton had decided to shed his previous life and start anew, he would run into one of the biggest causes of Milton’s teenage agony.

“Hey, Milty,” a rather intoxicated Chuck reiterated. “Still banging the old lady, man?” The question caused an uproar of laughter from the people seated around Chuck, but offended and appalled Milton’s coworkers, especially the female ones.
#4MantleNotMouse(Topic Creator)Posted 12/23/2007 1:04:25 AM
“Actually, Chuck,” Milton began, once again speaking in a slow, monotone voice to hide his anger. “I never had a relationship with my mother. I don’t see why that nasty rumor ever got started.” Realizing that he was just reverting back to his old, timid ways, Milton decided that it was finally time to stand up for himself and knock Chuck right off of his ivory tower. “But enough about me, Charles,” he said, his voice coming off as snarky and arrogant, “let’s talk about you for a while. Were those touchdown catches and trophies enough to please your dear, old, alcoholic father?”

As Milton’s coworkers began to chuckle, Chuck’s face reddened. The anger flushed into his receding hairline, something that caused Milton to smirk with amusement. Chuck’s friends continued to laugh, but the butt of their jokes was no longer the dorky kid that Chuck had been telling them about, instead it was directed towards the man who initiated the exchange. “Look, smart guy,” Chuck began before Milton could but him off.

“Nice insult…because, you know, being smart is such a terrible thing to be. I should try to be dumber, just like you, right? Hey, how’s this?” Milton asked, dropping his mouth and pretending to glare off into space.

This angered Chuck, who immediately jumped from his chair and began making his way towards the aisle in an effort to confront the man insulting him. As Chuck sidestepped along the aisle, he pointed a finger in Milton’s direction and shouted, “you think you’re funny, don’t you, you little bastard? Let’s see just how funny you are when you’re speaking without any teeth.”

A smile spread across Milton’s face as he began to imagine a natural disaster tearing through the stadium, catching Chuck Vick in its path of destruction. As the former jock began approaching, Milton stared him in the eyes with an evil glare and responded, “Yes, Chuck. Let’s see…”
#5MantleNotMouse(Topic Creator)Posted 12/23/2007 3:21:09 AM
Arianna Priest, feeling a little guilty about listening to the radio instead of socializing with her date, had finally decided to pay at least a little attention to the baseball game. Apparently, she had done so just in time, as the crowd roared its approval for the man stepping into the batter’s box. The slugger of the San Francisco Giants, Barry Lamar Bonds, had just shouldered his bat and stepped in against the Angels’ pitcher. ‘Maybe this could be interesting,’ Arianna thought to herself as the first pitch missed low and away for ball one.

The second pitch, an intended curveball, hung over the plate for a split second and the slugger punished the young hurler for his mistake. The hanging curveball, which had come across the plate at 82 miles per hour, leaped from Barry’s bat in a high arc, heading for McCovey Cove. The thousands it attendance leaped for their seats, roaring with excitement, as their hometown hero threw his mighty arms into the air, celebrating the homerun. However, the ball hesitated as it neared the outfield wall, an odd wind catching it in mid-flight. Like a rock, the ball dropped from the sky and into the outfield grass. By this time, most people had ignored the ball, though. In the bay, just outside of the stadium, three gigantic waterspouts had formed and were approaching the park with howling winds, promising certain destruction to whatever got in their paths.

Arianna Priest, hoping that Ultrawoman would be able to save the day, began pushing and shoving her way through the hysterical crowd of people. Behind her, she heard Brian scream after her, but ignored him, dead set on finding a safe place to get into costume (and these screaming bodies weren’t making it easy on her). Bodies were everywhere, and a safe place to change seemed to be utterly impossible to find until Arianna’s eyes fell upon the Ladies’ Room. Hesitant, but realizing that it was her only shot, she sprinted through the crowd. As she ran, she lowered her voice and mumbled to herself. “I wonder if Paragon ever has to change in a public restroom…”
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"Nothing says badass like a Viagra hat"
Live by the foma that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy
#6MantleNotMouse(Topic Creator)Posted 12/23/2007 5:36:15 AM
“Plan?” Turbo asked, confused by the fact that she expected him to know what to do.

“Well, before I showed up, you looked like you were doing something productive,” she offered.

“Yeah, I was saving the kayakers and fixing a potential problem that I caused in doing so….” Turbo corrected her, before attempting to logic through his lack of preparation on the fly. “I don’t know how to fight a liquid tornado…I can’t exactly freeze it or burn it. Why don’t you use your powers on it?”

Her Hispanic accent coming through due to her frustration, Ultrawoman sarcastically lashed out at Turbo with, “Oh, yeah, hang on while I hit the waterspout with a lightning bolt. THAT will stop it. Great idea, Einstein.”

“Okay, fine,” Turbo said in an annoyed tone. “Step aside and take notes, Super Barbie, because you’re about to learn how a legit superhero thinks on the fly.” He shot her an evil glare and darted towards the closest waterspouts, unsure of what exactly he was going to do, but determined to show Ultrawoman that he was capable of handling the situation. As the Anaheim Avenger raced towards the spiraling winds, Ultrawoman watched on in amazement, curious to see how he would handle the situation.

Stopping just short of the funnel cloud, Turbo decided to come to a quick decision that didn’t involve fire and/or ice. Hoping that the force of his superstrength would be enough to momentarily slow down, or even drive back, the raging tornado, he pulled his fist back and delivered a mighty punch in the direction of the force of nature. Unsurprisingly, the plan did not work and the force behind Turbo’s attack threw him head-over-heels into the wind funnel. Trying his best to not vomit from dizziness, Turbo rode around in circles before finally being released from the hold that the waterspout temporarily had on him. Unable to fight it, his body flew across the stadium and collided with the large baseball mitt in left-center field, “breaking” his fall about as effectively as a gigantic steel statue can break it. As Turbo lay still, coughing up a little blood due to the impact of the collision, Ultrawoman hovered over him with a smile on her face.

“If I were keeping score, hotspot,” she teased him, “that would go down as a flyout. Crimson Turbo offered a painful groan and rolled his eyes as Ultrawoman lowered herself into the glove beside him.
#7Spark0Posted 12/26/2007 9:01:23 AM
Having fun?
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#8MantleNotMouse(Topic Creator)Posted 12/31/2007 2:40:46 AM
Yes.
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"Nothing says badass like a Viagra hat"
Live by the foma that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy
#9MantleNotMouse(Topic Creator)Posted 12/31/2007 2:41:01 AM
As Turbo readied himself for the fight, the man known as Piston cracked his knuckles, took a deep breath, and unleashed a punch into the side of the armored car. Surprisingly, the punch broke the car’s siding and a fairly large hole was revealed as the thug retracted his arm. He looked down at his fist, making sure that no blood had been drawn, before looked back and locking eyes with the Anaheim Avenger.

“Did I say Action Time?” Turbo nervously chuckled, realizing that being hit by a punch that hard would not be pleasant. “Because what I meant was…you’re under arrest for robbery. Now, please turn around and allow yourself to be taken into custody.”

“You might want to add assaulting an officer to those charges,” Piston retorted. “I’m not going in peacefully.”

“Well, in that case,” Turbo started as he bit his lip, scanning the ice-covered roadway frantically in an attempt to find an answer, anything, to help him out of this situation.

“In that case, you’re going to have to answer to me,” came a voice from behind Turbo. Turbo managed to turn around and spot the Golden Dragon, standing triumphantly atop a parked car.

“And who the hell are you, kid?” Piston asked, unfamiliar with the often ignored hero.

“My name is Golden Dragon,” Shen Long Lao answered him, eyes darting from Turbo to the villain underneath his mask. “I’m kind of Crimson Turbo’s partner.”

“Stalker,” Turbo corrected, trying to distance himself from the man in a martial arts uniform. “Crimson Turbo doesn’t need a sidekick,” he said in a cocky tone.

“Whatever,” snapped Shen, surprising the Anaheim Avenger with the short outburst of attitude. “Partner or not, my name is going to make headline news tomorrow, because I’m going to stop a robbery today.” Dragon turned his attention to Piston, “What did you say your name was again?”

“They call me the Piston,” the thug stated with a confident undertone.

“Well, Piston,” Dragon started, his voice growing more confident throughout the sentence, “we must kung fu.”

“Gladly,” the man with the powerful punch snarled, taking a step towards the martial artist.
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"Nothing says badass like a Viagra hat"
Live by the foma that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy
#10WeaponexpertPosted 1/6/2008 4:52:05 PM
I hereby declare this forum belongs to.......ummmm......crap i forgot nvm
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I will escort you to your funeral(Melfice) Grandia 2
Demons Horde Slash