Everywhere Girl #3 (of 4): Get Out!
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by Denny Hill 2 (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Copyright 2001 All rights reserved.
Imagine if you will our heroine, Franky, standing with Shotgun Sammy on the other side of a doorway that's between us and them. It's an ancient doorway with odd inscriptions in an unknown, unknowable language surrounding the bounded space that opens between their chamber and ours. The two adventurers look somewhat bored, but then, they don't see the six glowing eyes in the darkness behind them, do they...?
(That should do for a 'cover', shouldn't it?)
Notice: for those of you that are faint of heart, the following tale isn't exactly what one would call G-rated in nature. It contains a plethora of bad language, excessive violence, sexual innuendo, and of course, things that would get this story burned, were it in a printed form, by the more fanatical elements of just about any religion on earth. In other words, if these things offend you - you've been warned.
"No really, get your goddamn hand off my ass, Sammy."
Shotgun Sammy really didn't see what the problem was - Franky's problem, at least. He was as bored as she was, and likely as horny as she was too, considering all the pheromones she'd been giving off since the two of them wound up together in Psychoturge's latest job du jour: the acquisition of some so-called 'tablet of power' that somehow has resisted being looted in the last thousand or so years.*
Of course, everything ELSE they happened to pilfer was pretty much fair game, though Sammy had a bad feeling about this job. Sure, he'd get to shoot things up should they get in the way, but there were two things wrong with this picture, as far as he was concerned. First, Franky was here - she'd never worked with the group before, and she was still a novice, if pretty darn tough when you get down to it.
The second, though, was that this was no ordinary abandoned temple - this was a former place of power for the elder god Rygmsplyttttt, some sort of elder god of evil that had run into rather hard times recently. Supposedly vanquished permanently, this entity had nonetheless left behind a whole lot of mystic toys, some of which still possessed their full power. One of which was the tablet they were seeking.
Sammy knows evil though... and it was a palpable force in this temple.
"Whatever, Franky, you know you want it." He could tell the dead, dread influence of Rygmsplyttttt's evil was affecting him, moreso than the others; he was a demon after all, one of Kedae descent. While he'd abandoned his fellows to pursue his own career path, one free of the influence of his soul-consuming brethren, he was still demonic in nature, and could tell the lingering evil was making him nasty.
He'd have never so groped Franky anywhere else - unless she asked him to, at least. Much less respond with his final words on the matter as he did. He thought it'd be a good idea to find this blasted tablet as soon as possible and get out before he did or said anything he'd truly regret - unless it got him lucky, at least. Nonetheless, he wasn't just worried about his behavior so much as what was still there.
After all, he was sure this place wasn't as abandoned as advertised, or else this tablet, and all the gems and stuff he'd been yanking out of the various statues and displays he'd encountered along the way would be gone already. There was more than meets the eye transpiring here, he was sure, and if there was anything Shotgun Sammy hates, it's walking into a disaster area because of misinformation and misdirection.
"But of course, Sammy. By the way, why don't you quit pitching that spandex tent and help me with this?" His train of thought derailed, Shotgun Sammy looked over to Franky, and saw that she was having problems getting yet another stone door in this sub-basement opened. "But of course, Franky. S'what us big, burly men are here for, right?" This was of course sarcasm, what with Sammy being six foot six - and maybe two hundred pounds.
He nonetheless rammed his shoulder into the door as Franky pushed, and the two of them managed to move the door inward. Looking in as their flashlights scanned the chamber, the duo felt a wave of otherworldly cold spread across their bodies. "I'd say I just felt like somebody walked over my grave, but that's back in Chicago. What the Hell was that, Sammy?" Grimacing, Sammy just brandished his shotgun at the darkness. "It's a Thing."
"Swell." Franky then pulled out her new toy, a spike-knuckled trench knife bought in some ubiquitous store on Planet T. "Let's say hey to the Thing then." Entering the room despite Sammy's protests, Franky started waving her flashlight around madly, hoping to spot the 'thing' that Sammy said was here. Sure enough, she found it, it being a tall, spindly humanoid with spikes issuing forth from its naked, oil-drenched body.
Assuming that was oil, at least.
"Hi there!" Franky hoped to distract it into attacking out of reflex, or just standing there out of confusion if the world was being nice to her today. It wasn't perplexed, though, and the Thing lurched at her with impressive speed, decking her with a right hook that knocked her flat on her back. "Ow, you dirty bastard, I felt that!" Before she could get up and knife the creepy horror, however, Sammy blasted it with his namesake.
Firing one of his homemade rounds from his unique weapon, Shotgun Sammy detonated the thing's head in a most impressive fashion, causing its now-limp body to collapse on the ground, leaking forth more icky black goo from the neck stump as it did so. "Eew... nasty!" Franky then pulled herself together and stood up, only to be freaked out further when the neck stump of her recently deceased foe started talking to her and Sammy.
"Fools! You cannot kill me... even now your idiotic fellows are inadvertently causing the revival of our lord from his so-called 'vanquishment'. As soon as they do so, I will rise from this temporary inconvenience and kill you both - ever so slowly, I might add. Furthermore, I suggest that you -" The corpse stopped talking rather abruptly after Sammy shot it a second time, this time in the blabbermouth stump.
After trying to raise the others on the team's communicators, Franky frowned. "Hey Sammy, looks like we're conveniently out of touch with the others... we better go find 'em before it's too late - and we all wind up having to hang around with more bozos like this for the rest of our rather short lives." After stomping on the possibly dead body before them for another ten seconds, Sammy agreed to this, and ran off with his current partner in crime.
But not before tying up the dead (?) thing's feet, so he could drag it along.
Fifteen minutes later, the duo finally happened upon Psychoturge and the others, but as their luck would have it, the boss was just then prying the tablet of power out of its resting place in the lowest chamber of this evil temple. "Boss, don't touch it - it's evil!" Psychoturge looked at her raving employee as he ran into the lower chamber with Franky and a corpse in tow, and indeed paused - but the damage had been done.
"Hah! Foolish mortals... you have broken the seal to the realms of death that I installed in this temple against the possibility of my defeat by the so-called forces of 'goodness'... now I, Rygmsplyttttt, elder god of the multiverse, patron of bloody murderers, and all around proponent of entropy, am free. Free!" Looking around frantically, the members of the Departure, Psychoturge's mercenary shop, couldn't see where that voice was coming from.
Sammy knew, though.
Walking up to the altar from which the tablet had been removed, Sammy looked into a nigh-infinite wellspring of black. "Yep, dread portal to the realms of doom... I should've figured." He removed one of the many gemstones he'd swiped earlier in the day, and dropped it into the inky blackness... it never made a sound, implying that this was either a bottomless hole or in fact a doorway into a realm that nobody present would like to experience.
Not that the plane of existence that this temple was squatting in was a bouquet of roses to begin with, of course.
"Okay everybody, let's get the Hell out of here!" With that announcement, Psychoturge saw her squad turn as one in order to leave the temple, but before they could take a single step, they saw the corpse that Sammy had brought with them standing upright once again - and it had company, too. "Christ... so much for this temple being abandoned. Looks like we get to renegotiate this contract as soon as we get home."
"If we get home..."
As soon as Psychoturge said THAT, though, the members of her shop immediately prepared for deadly, deadly combat. Shotgun Sammy loaded up his gun with two rounds designed to work on mystic entities. Franky brandished her knife, while preparing to use her gravity powers. Codger got a nasty electrical bolt ready. The Gun Toting Psycho whipped out twin blasters. Bar-B-Q ignited in an aura of flame. Organ Donor made a bevy of additional limbs.
With that, the group ferociously erupted into action. Weapons discharging, limbs flailing, and powers erupting, the seven super human mercenaries let loose with a frighening array of destructive power. The murderous minions of Rygmsplyttttt, while cold-blooded killers in their own right, were simply not powerful enough, or motivated enough, to stand before their attackers, and within thirty seconds, two dozen of them fell.
Their limbs severed and/or pulverized, their bodies burnt beyond recognition, their heads smashed or exploded or otherwise mangled, the bizarre entities lay strewn about the chamber before the members of the Departure. The problem was, of course, that they were the creatures of a god of murder and violence, and as such, this could only serve to empower it, further assisting its bid to return to the land of the living - or not-vanquished, at least.
Sammy and Psychoturge gathered this pretty much immediately, and tried to hustle the crew out of the temple before it was overrun by these things - or before it collapsed, as these things are wont to do in such times. Luckily for them, though, most of the opposition to this effort lay dead or dying in the chamber behind them, and as such, the Departure made it out of the temple in just a couple of minutes.
As they left the temple, the Gun-Toting Psycho started firing into the doorway from whence they came. This wasn't because he sensed any enemy approaching so much as he was hoping to score a couple more lucky kills before the team journeyed back to Planet T. As Psychoturge prepared to construct the mystic portal home despite this distraction, she found that her connection home was repeatedly being interrupted by some unknown force.
That was when the dread, disembodied voice kicked in.
"Fools... did you really think that I would let you leave so easily? Sure, you may have done me a great service by unlocking my doorway back to the land of the living, but ferocious fighters such as yourselves would make a great sacrifice to... speed the process along. Your magic will not save you now, for you are in MY realm! Now that I am again active, no sorcery save that of my minions will function in this plane of existence!"
As the detached voice of Rygmsplyttttt cackled with mad glee, Psychoturge sidled over to Franky. "Okay, girl, you're up - it's time for you to finally pull of that extraplanar travel stunt I've been trying to teach you. Unless you want to move in here, possibly settle down with some of those greasy things, have some kids..." Noting that the sarcasm and horrible mental images weren't necessary, Franky started to concentrate.
She used the powers that she'd already mastered to get a fix on the weave of space-time where she was living on Planet T, which was rather easy thanks to the artificial nature of the planet's continuum (it's rather conspicuous, really). Then, she reached out with her consciousness and got a feel for the weave of the plane she was currently occupying, and tried to intertwine the two as Psychoturge had explained she could do.
She'd been trying this on and off for the last month or two, but had only managed to weave a portal to a few random dimensions - two of which weren't all that hospitable to organic life. However, knowing that the lives of her friends - even the dirty Sammy - were hanging in the balance, Franky tried harder than ever before to make this stunt work. Perhaps it was the stress, she wasn't sure, but the mechanics of the trick suddenly seemed oh so clear.
It was like a switch had clicked in Franky's mind, and suddenly a doorway between this ever-blackening realm and the Departure's apartment on Planet T manifested before the group. As the disembodied voice of Rygmsplyttttt growled in rage, the group as a whole thumbed their nose at the temple and leapt through the entirely non-magical portal between the two places. Sammy even groped his three piece set as Franky closed the portal behind them.
"Not so smart after all, are we, Mister Elder God? Hah!"
The next day, Psychoturge journeyed to the offices of the man who'd hired her and her group to raid Rygmsplyttttt's temple in that obscure, unnamed plane of darkness, though she didn't go alone - oh no. She went there with Frankie and Sammy in tow, in order to send a very clear message to the man. Upon her arrival, Psychoturge and her entourage were led into the business area of one Theron Jorg's residence.
Most Planet T residences have an office or offices to conduct business - comes from being a corporate realm, after all.
"Ah, Sissy, you have brought me the tablet... excellent." The man was wearing a black robe, of course, with red trim on it - blood red trim. While this wasn't an overtly weird fashion statement on Planet T, Franky couldn't help but feel uneasy with the guy; that was probably because the man looked all lumpy under the robe, as if it wasn't quite tailored for his body - didn't leave room for a bunch of spikes, you see.
Sammy was feeling much the same way, but a contract was a contract - and Psychoturge was the boss; he'd only start shooting on her command. Psychoturge, or Sissy as Theron called her, went to go hand over the tablet, but then yanked it back just as he reached for it. "Eh? What's the meaning of this, woman? We have a deal - if you know what's good for you, you'll hand that over right now. Or else..."
"Or else what?! We did have a deal, and you shat all over it as soon as you lied about that temple being unoccupied. Abandoned my ass! We went up against over two dozen freaks... freaks like you!" Psychoturge then used her own mystic powers to rip Theron's robes off, exposing a slim, spiky build rather similar to the Things in the temple of Rygmsplyttttt. The only thing missing, of course, was the fresh coat of oil.
"In MY book, that means you're paying us triple - unless you want me to report your sorry ass to the Thaumatech authorities for fraud..." Sensing that the tables had turned, Theron scowled at Psychoturge. "Very well. Bitch. I'll transfer the funds immediately - but not before you hand over the tablet..." Psychoturge just laughed at that. "No dice. Would've worked until you called me a naughty name, Theron."
"And besides, reviving a dead god was ALSO not a part of our contract, so unless you want me to report THAT, I'll require you double again what you were about to pay us. After all, I'm sure this jerk's gonna haunt us down the road, so at least we should be compensated for that early, don't you think?" Virtually growling at this point, Theron eyed Psychoturge with daggers of doom, finally saying "Fine."
Theron then transferred the incredibly inflated fee into Psychoturge's account, and gleefully accepted the stone, much to Franky's chagrin. "We can't give this thing to him, Psychoturge! He's not going to do anything nice with it, and you know it!" Shooing her troops out of Theron's office before they got any Ideas, Psychoturge shruggged. "Yeah, I know. But we're mercenaries... we do this for a living, not out of some sense of justice."
As the trio returned to their lofty tower apartments, Franky couldn't help but think how much she didn't like that...
* Sort of alluded to last issue.
Months later, as Franky finally becomes a master of sorts regarding her powers over space and time, she increasingly finds that she doesn't agree with the working style of her newfound friends. While she plans on going her own way, though, Franky finds herself stalked by enemies she thought long-dead, and is forced to complete her evolution into the Everywhere Girl without the Departure's aid - or die trying!
Everywhere Girl #3 (of 4): Get Out!
by Denny Hill 2 (email@example.com)
Copyright 2001 All rights reserved.