[RPG] The Big-WTF! RPG

The Big Finale 03-23-2005 04:37 PM
It was a dark and stormy night.

Schwarzwald knew this, because he'd set up his little office right beneath a sewer drain. All the water, thusly, was pouring right on his conical head. Even so, there were advantages; he'd set himself on fire a few minutes prior while trying to smoke a cigarette, but thankfully had been able to douse the flames quite easily.

"Forty years ago, every last inhabitant of this world lost their memories." He rose, patting out a few stray embers on the front of his coat. "The real question is not how, but why? For what purpose did this mass amnesia occur?" The man clenched a bandaged fist, making the cloth strips rustle against each other.

No matter what obstacles lay before him; the ignorance of the entire city, the opposition of the Paradigm Company....

....the interference of that lapdog, the Negotiator....

....he would never give up until his quest to find the Truth and make it known came to fruition.

A deluge of papers, beer cans, and even a kitchen sink knocked him forcefully to the ground. Schwarzwald's furious voice could be heard throughout the city.

"Accursed Paradigm Dogs! I'll show you what the-- hey, a Hershey's Kiss."
evanASF27 03-23-2005 04:58 PM
On the streets above a young man sets down a steel garbage can and wipes the dirty sweat from his forehead. The young man is around five and a half feet tall, with brown hair, and dark eyes. He fixes one of the worn buttons on his overalls before hearing something from the pipe he just poured garbage down. Before he can bend over, his boss yells at him and he rushes back over to the truck to get another can.

*voice over*
"My name is Joseph Bach, and this is Paradigm City...a city that sucks."

The voiceover continues as Joe dumps another heavy can of garbage down another pipe on the outskirts of a landfill.

"I've worked everywhere outside the domes and know this city better than most adults. I like adventure and I also have this talent for inventing things...but this..." *pan of the landfill before Joe* "is not what I had in mind for adventure."

It's almost about to rain when Joe goes over to the office to collect his pay. He walks quitely away down the streets of the city.

"I'm suppose to see some rich guy about part-parttime job as a mechanic. I'll take any job if it means getting some more money to help build my inventions. *looks at watch* Oh crap! I'm gonna be late!!"

The voice over ends with Joe running like a madman towards a tall highrise with black screens over it.

((OOC: In case you didn't know...THAT MEANS ROGER'S PLACE))
Ban Mido 03-23-2005 05:58 PM
( I hope its alright for me to post now..)

Alex Rosewater, the head cheese of the Paradigm Law Firm. He head honcho in the city to say the least. He sat in the bathing area. A greek bath if you will. Steam coated the room, shrouding the man in a white shadow almost.
The sounds of splashing and man made sound effects swept through the steam.
"Kaboom! Haha! Your dead!"
Another splash was heard.
The fog parts revealing Alex in a pink bathing suit, pushing boats around in the bubble'ie waters of the bath. One hand dunked under the water. Soon the head and upper body of a Big Fau action figure rose up out of the water.
"Dun...Duh-Dun....Dun dun dun! Dun-Dun-Dun!" <--Jaws theme song.
Alex smacked one of the boats around him under the water with his Big Fau action figure, and began waving it around.
"Hehehe...Kaboosh! Haha! You're dead too!"
He glanced down at his Big Fau action figure.
"Hmm...I love you Big Fau!"
He began nuzzling his action figure.
"Love you love you lo--"

*Schwartzwald: Hershey's Kiss!*

"Hello? What about a Hershey's kiss?"
Alex glanced around, he held his Big Fau action figure close to himself.
Questioned Alex.
"Are you having candy without me again?"
Asked Alex nuzzling Big Fau against his left cheek.
"Hello? Alan?"
pen1300 03-23-2005 08:41 PM
It was a dark and stormy night while Dorothy stared out the window at the black clouds, watching for lightening. Roger was still sleeping. Sleeping like he always did when it rained. At least it was getting toward the time he woke up. (And she would not wake him up today).

Black everywhere. Black skies, black furniture, black clothes. Black, black, black. It was so...monotone. Today, yes, she thought, today would be the day Roger saw SOME color in his closet.

She had gone shopping earlier that day, while he was sleeping, ever sleeping. She had bought a few outfits, maybe ten, of various colors: blue, green, yellow (looked gold, like Beck's stuff), red, and a lovely pink number that she hoped oh so very much that he would put on. Actually, he would almost have to. She hid the new colors and most of his black wardrobe somewhere in the mansion. Norman had agreed to this little spot of fun.

She, herself, marveled at her red-purple, satin dress that slipped perfectly around her body, as if part of her own skin. The dress slipped to the floor and up to a single point around her neck. A perfect dress that broke his favorite rule.

Yes, she smiled, today was the day Roger would learn never, NEVER cross Dorothy.
Captain Maw 03-23-2005 09:50 PM
Memo to Seebach:
Yo, mike!, it's me. whatsup? how's your life? how's the wife? yeah, yeah, those Paradigm ****holes keep feeding us the same B.S. night after night, day after day. but hey, we keep trying no matter what we do. Yeah, i heard about last night, man, did those Paradigm folks pull one, i mean, to say "no comment" is one thing, to do that to YOU? preposterous! whatever, dont take that too far, and dont go underground, your creepy obsession is cool and all, but work isnt life. Dont take things too far... btw, remember that name we used to call you back in the day... what was it.. oh yeah! Schwarzvald! hehehe, good times... good times... well, g2g,


The fire in Schwarzvald's apartment burns the last part off
Darkside 03-23-2005 09:54 PM
It was a dark and stormy night, it was the best of tims it was the worst of times.....oops, sorry wrong story. *Ahem* Anyway, *camera pans over view of citizens of Paradigm* 40 years ago, something happened that is only known as the Event, this apparently powerful Event caused a.....hold on! Go back, *camera goes back* That guy owes me money! Oi! You there with the hat! *Guy stops and looks up, frightened* Yeah you! * The man starts screaming, "OMFG ITS THE VOICES!!!" he runs screaming into the darkness* Oookaaay? Moving on, dammit now I can't remember where I was. Lets see, I think it was....far aways in the reaches of space on the planet Cybertron, life existed. Intelligent robots that could.....What? This ones wrong too? Godammit! Skip the intro!

*the intro is skipped*

*Cut to interior of Speakeasy, zoom in on the silent man sitting at the bar*
In this bar lies one of the most feared men of Paradigm City, he is Rampage. A hostile and brooding character, showing no emotion other then his namesake. Stories tell of this mighty warrior destroying entire armies of giant mechs using the weapon known as Devastator. *psst!* What? *Man sitting at the bar says: "Over there." He jabs his thumb in the appropriate direction* Oh, thanks. *"no problem" camera moves to kareoke machine* THIS is Rampage!

Rampage is leaning against the machine, bottle of tequila in one hand, microphone in the other, *singing*"I need a hero! Wheres the street wise hercules to sweep me off my feet!* Rampage starts drinking from the bottle again, one of the patrons looks at his watch and times Rampage. Rampage finishes the bottle and llooks at the cowd, wobbling and slurred he says, "Ladies and gentlemen of the juryI can prove my client is innocent based on the evidence of he not doing it. I rest my case, now wheres money!" Dale walks up to him and grabs his arm, "Alright pal, I know you payed for dinks and all but I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

Rampagewobbly nods and says, "Ladies and gentlemen of the court, if you'll be so kind to excuse me. I must go help defend the France in a matter of $15 and a nasty name-calling." Dale helps Rampage to the door, Rampage then poceeds to walk down an ally with a bunch of hobos. They watch as Rampage falls face first into the ground. Two hobos help Rampage up as he says, "The ground tastes lemony." Eventually they put him into a makeshift bed. Rampage quickly goes to sleep.
snakemarcato13 03-24-2005 09:51 AM
Snake woke up in his underground base. Actually, he was woken up by the android in the base, Barthow. Barthow tended to the Megadeus parts and the other mechanical things about.

"Mr. Marcato, Mr. Marcato, wake up!"

"Barthow, how many times do I have to tell you to STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

"My apologies. You might want to go to the bar."


"Someone you know is...well....inebriated."

"Great. Maybe I'll get some money out of it playing negotiator."

Snake got into his Griffion, the favorite of the vehicles he has, and headed for the Speakeasy. It was dark and stormy. Once there, Snake entered, but found noone he knew. "I guess that they left already. Damn."

Snake sat down at the bar, "Hey Dale, The usual!"

Dale smiled as he put up a bottle of vodka, "Do you want the glass, too?"


Snake sat at the bar, drinking his vodka. "They'll come back."
Xel 03-24-2005 01:54 PM
The night was of comparable darkness and storminess in the Paradigm offices.

"Mmm... ah...!"

There were times when Alan hadn't a care in the world. This was one of those times. In fact, most times were those times, but this one especially.

"Ha-- aah...!"

A flare of lightning lit up the room like a flashbulb or other such source of light. Alan lifted his organic hand to his face, biting one knuckle. Soon... any second now would be...


For just a second, the room was completely still.


He sagged, sniffed once, and rubbed at his nose. "Well, that hasn't happened in a while. Someone must be talking about me," he crowed.

With a jaunty little smile, Alan swung his legs off the top of Alex Rosewater's desk, slid back in his cushy office-throne, and stood. It was just a feeling. He could tell when the boss wanted him to do something, when he needed him, when being without him for one moment longer would be like death... Yes.

And with the blink of an eye, Alan leapt from behind the desk and vanished into the hallway.
Tifaria 03-25-2005 07:16 PM
The view below Jason Beck’s office window was dreary. It was a dark and stormy night, and he was working late hours again at the bank. No doubt Emilia was stamping her foot in impatience back at their spacious penthouse apartment, waiting to chide him fiercely when he got home.

He gathered his briefcase and flipped the lights off on his way out. The elevator hummed drearily, the doors opened with a gentle whoosh drearily, and Jason made his way out to his gaudy gold car. His work at the bank was finished, but there were other jobs yet to be done.

Oh, sure, if he wanted to, he could simply rob his own bank, do a little embezzling on the side, and be filthy stinking rich within a matter of weeks.. but where was the challenge in that? No, Jason Beck lived for the thrill of completing a difficult task, and for never completing the same difficult task twice. Taking money from his own bank was lame and repetitious. Besides, as arrogant as Beck was, even he knew that inside jobs almost always got found out eventually.

When he got to the car, he realized there was someone-- wait, two someones-- already waiting for him in the backseat.

He glared at them before sliding into the driver‘s seat. “What are you two clowns already doing here? I thought I told you to meet me at the location.” His eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Well.. we was gonna, Boss, honest, but T-Bone said--”

“I didn’t say nothin’!”

“Yeah you did! T-Bone said we should meet up with you first, Boss, just to be sure, and--”

“Oh, just shut up already,” Beck growled. “Can’t I send you two to do a simple errand? Do you not realize that if anyone sees me sitting here with the two of you it‘s going to arouse suspicion? It‘s bad enough that my wife already nags me about being at ‘work‘ late every night, and-- are you following me here?”

He received blank stares in response.

“Nevermind.” He put a hand to his forehead, rubbing at his temple. “Just.. duck down in the backseat or something. I can’t be seen with you idiots until we get there.”

In the back of his mind, Beck was giggling madly. Yoshifuda-Yakamoto Industries loomed on the horizon, and within it was hidden his newest Ultimate Plan for revenge on Crow Boy.

His car couldn’t drive fast enough.
Gummibear 03-25-2005 07:59 PM
Emilia check her watch for what must have been the fiftieth time in the lapse of two hours.

" Oh sure," She told herself wrapping her knuckles against the side of the hot tub," I'll be working late tonight, sugar bear."

Another romantic evening ruined. Emilia was always uneasy when Jason stayed out late, but alas she trusted in the promise he made to her exactly two years ago to the day. That he would stay clear of trouble and live a normal life. Emilia was satisfied, a little skeptical, but satisfied.

" There's nothing to worry about." She comforted herself as she stepped out of the hot tub and grabbed a towel. " We've got no shortage of money there's no reason for him to do anything he shouldn't and as far as I can tell our marriage life is healthy" She chuckled nervously pondering the idea of the "jungle fever" arriving a little early. After all Jason was a tad older than her. But even with Emilia's limited knowledge of male sexuality or lack there of she was intelligent enough to know that Jason was far from tired of her.

" Well," Emilia figured " If he's working late he should still be at the office. He's probably got a marvelous anniversary surprise planned for me. He wouldn't bail on me tonight...of all nights." Biting her lip she grabbed the nearest phone and dialed his office. She decided against being aggressive...but only because this was a special night. Any other night she'd have not one shred of mercy on him.

The phone rang...Emilia decided how she'd sound like when Jason answered the phone. She decided to be as seductive as possible in a last ditch attempt to reel him home.

Someone picked up.

" Jason Beck."

" Hey Becky-poo...I was just here wondering which set of handcuffs you'd like to use tonight...I'm going to be waiting in the hot tub...."

" If you're listening to this your message has just been recorded. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. This has been an automated voice message."

Emilia gently put down the phone. Chortled and gave a deep sigh. Realizing that his secretary would being listening and before long the whole bank would know what a "special" evening she had planned, hot

tub, hand cuffs and all.

" I'LL KILL HIM!" She vowed.
Big Money 03-25-2005 08:50 PM
The mother of William J. Oskerfield had had enough. She sat slumped at the table, leaning her cheek on her left hand.

"Billy. Billy! Eat your food, Billy, there's starving people outside the domes. Billy J. Oskerfield!"

Her son rose from his slumped position in his chair, across from his mother. He was covered head to toe with toiled paper, rapped around and around mummy-style. He had his fathers sunglass lens taped to one of his eyes, and he wore a big brown coat that only served to exagerrate his already overweight appearance, complete with a neckbrace.

"Billy Oskerfield no longer exists in this city!" The boy spoke with mad fervor.

His mother rolled her eyes. "Ohhhh Kayyy..."

"For the time being, you may call me SCHWARTZBILLY!" The child belted out, holding up a zippo lighter and eyeing his mother strangely.

((Uhh, just introductory post... Nothing too special...))
stryker 03-30-2005 01:09 PM
It was a dark and stormy night. Which meant that the well dressed, eligible ladies had all scurried into suitably posh and entertaining places to seek refuge. Having caught the weather forecast for that evening, Roger was strategically placed in the most comfortable, cozy and visible nook in The Nightingale, welcoming the troop of lovely ladies as they flocked to his table, as they inevitably did, taking tickets from a convenient dispenser. He returned all their warm, sultry smiles and said to them pleasantly, "Take your time, ladies, there's plenty of room at the table, and I'm going to be here all night to give each and every one of you my individual attention. Now, I'm just going to go OWW!"

One of the women had attached themselves to his ear in a rather painful manner. "Hey! Hold on, miss, there's plenty more of me to go around..." But there was an arm attached to that pinching hand, pale alabaster in color, and he followed it to the woman it belonged to, a pale ghost of a girl in a sheer reddish purple close fitting dress, and frighteningly familiar. "Dorothy?!"

Her voice was disturbingly scathing as she snapped to him, "Roger Smith, you wipe that silly smile from your face right now, and wake up from this ridiculous dream!" To punctuate her outrage, lightning blasted through the room and arced behind her, blazing in a dazzling electric blue, and he nearly swallowed his tongue in guilt and terror at the sight of this angel of doom.

He lurched forward as the thunder crashed in the room, deafening and bone jarring. He was about to recover from this attack on his manly authority and chastize her back, but the scene had melted away, and he found himself in his bed, the roar of thunder still rolling among the skyscrapers outside. He sighed and rubbed his face as he got up to use the restroom. Another bolt like that last one and his bed might be embarrassingly damp. "Darn that girl, she always interrupts before I can get anyone's phone number." And Angel wasn't there either. He had a feeling that Dorothy tied her up and stuffed her in a closet in every dream. He winced sourly as his ear was still sore from that pinch...

There was a knock at the door, and Norman came in with a lamp just as Roger was fiddling with his pajama trousers. The butler coughed and looked away discreetly. "Uhm, pardon me for interrupting your... evening activities, Master Roger, but there's a guest here to see you."

Roger choked in embarrassment and snapped his hands to his side. "Norman, it's nothing like that... oh, never mind. Who is it...?" But when he looked back up, Norman had left, and he chafed at what his faithful servant might be thinking. Oh, of all the stupid... he loves to gossip about me as it is!

But, what about the visitor? And at this hour? Ohh... they must be one of the fair maiden type if Norman let them in!
Feeling much better, he dabbed on some of his sweetest cologne as he began to dress, humming, "Oh, I want to want you baby, baby, baby man, baby," wondering if he was going to be greeting a blond, brunette, or redhead. But then his reverie went flying off the rails when he threw open the door to his wardrobe and saw that... it was empty!

No, not empty, exactly... there was one hangar inside, and dangling from it was... was.... was...

Color! And not just any old color, but... but.... but...... PINK?!

He decided that he had to be dreaming. But a sharp pinch later, he realized that he wasn't. And then he decided that he was angrier than he had ever been in his life. He tried to yell for Norman, but the noise that came from his throat sounded more like a pair of Welsh Corgis fighting. He grabbed that... thing from his closet, doing his best not to let that ghastly fabric touch him anywhere and stormed out of the room in his t-shirt and skivvies.

His prey hadn't made it too far, but as Norman saw the look of blazing wrath in Roger's eyes, and his state of undress, his "bum knee" that got him out of a lot of hard work was feeling quite well tonight as he tried for a hasty retreat. "Oh my, Master Roger, uhmm... I'm afraid I left a chair in the oven-"

"Halt!!" Roger bellowed, and his failthful servant, having been involved in Dorothy's little prank, knew the jig was up and slid to a stop. Sort of. A chair helped out which he fell over, loosing his lamp, the back of which happily began to catch fire. He had been chafing over Roger's silly rules for years now, and who in their right mind wouldn't want to wear a fine bit of pink now and then?

Roger brandished that... thing out threateningly and tried to demand an explanation, but the only sounds he could manage were more of those growling, barking noises. Norman was busy swatting at the blaze which was crackling right along now, and trying to think of something disarming to say. "Uhm... that's a marvelous imitation of a dog fight, Master Roger-"

He found his voice as his blood pressure steadily rose to seam busting levels, and he exclaimed, "Dang it to heck, Norman! Just... what about this farging thing?!"

Norman pulled some flowers out of a vase, a very rare bit of color Roger permitted as he found to his chagrin that there were no black flowers in Paradigm, and doused the fire with water, trying to sound indignant. "Why, Master Roger, really! Such language... uhm... and what exactly is that language, anyhow?" And then he realized he'd better say something deflecting, but all he could think of was, "Oh, bravo on a bold fashion statement for once, sir. How lovely that will look on you."

Roger tried to raise his voice past the dangerous levels it was already at, but could manage only a bug-eyed mousey squeak. "What is this fripping thing doing in my closet??"

Norman replied in a rather quiet voice, "Uhm... hanging quietly?" He saw that Roger was about to loose control and backed away slowly, for he didn't want to see the Negotiator loose control dressed like... well, not very dressed at all. When it seemed that his master was about to utter some more gutteral canine racket, he handed the bouquet of flowers to him, and cut in quickly, "Sir, you really should tend to your guest. But, I shouldn't go dressed like that." He so badly wanted to see Roger in that fetching outfit, and hoped his camera had some fresh film loaded.

Roger blurted out, "Why not!" But of course he knew why not. Besides not looking very dignified wearing shorts with the words "Love Pirate" emblazoned across them, he'd let his tummy go a bit too far, thanks to Norman's excessively rich cooking. And his pesky snacking habits he'd fallen into lately but that was beside the point. Eyeing that repulsive... thing dangling from the hangar, and realizing that it was either that or his shower curtains or something, he whirled around, the sounds of another dog fight ringing in the halls as he departed to dress. Damn it, I really need my corset now...

After managing to get it tightened down, and getting his voice to work again, he stared at himself in the mirror. Or tried to anyway. "I look like... like a... pimp or something." Still, he reasoned with himself, girls liked men with a soft, gentle side, and they were all about pink. But... this was a little more than soft and gentle, it was downright.... fruity! He mentally gagged at the thought, but... oh well, she was waiting, and he did have a nice bouquet to offer her. He practiced his shmoozhiest voice as he made his way to the greeting room. "Hello, I'm Roger Smith. How may I... consarn it, this corset's too tight."

He decided to shrug it all off and enjoy himself, putting on his brightest smile as he entered the room, holding the bouquet out for his guest, and beginning to say in a musical way, "Well, hello... oooo... ooooooooo..." But he froze in mid stride, his Broadway voice becoming a wavering whimper, looking more stunned than welcoming as he saw that it wasn't a ravishing young lady desperate for help, and companionship, but some dumpy looking teenage guy who reeked of... of....

"Poo gas."
evanASF27 04-12-2005 09:51 PM
The door opened to the mansion.....*silence*........

"Uhh I'm here for the mechanic you--"...the pink man grabbed Joe and yanked him inside slamming the door almost in the same instant. "Who told you about the mechanic job!?" "Um the flyers you put up all over the block." Joe produces a crumpled up flyer from one of his pockets. "~_~ ...Are you sure?" At that moment the butler walked by. He stopped, turned to look at Joe, and took the flyer out of his hands. Norman nodded and motioned for Joe to follow him down the hall.

As the two men walk down the hall, the pink man and a strange (but pretty) girl run about chasing each other throwing random objects at each other. Joe and the butler step into an elevator and ascend up the shaft. Joe nervously stands next to the butler...the silence creeping through his entire body. The bell dings as they stop at one of the floors not listed on the plate above the door. The brass doors slide open revealing several dozen big burly men carrying equiptment and tools into one of the many doors that lined the hallway. One of the men that passed in front of them 'high-5'd' the old butler while pushing a cart loaded with giant bolts. Another man was pulling a long trolley loaded down with a giant missile across the hall....Joe watched as the length of the ordinance passed him...the same man gave a grunt as he pushed the last foot of trolley through the door.

...(wait...the same man!? O_o)...

Joe goes to see what the hell could be in there when the butler closes over the door and pulls him into another room. "Here is what needs repairing. I'd do it myself, you understand, but there is so much else that needs to be done, and I am only just one man." Joe gapes at the room full of broken pianos......Norman quietly puts on a hardhat and slips out, closing the door behind him. "THIS ISN'T WHAT I WAS EXPECTING WHEN YOU SAID YOU NEEDED A MECHANIC!!!!!!!"
snakemarcato13 04-19-2005 09:01 PM
The doors flung open and a kid came in, running to the bar yelling Dale''s name, "Dale, DALE! Some drunk nut is getting into a fight with the hobo's in the alley!"

Dale looked at Snake, "That sounds like the guy."
Snake took a drink, emptying the glass, and looked up at Dale, "Damn, I guess I gotta do something about this. Where's Roger when you need him? Oh wait, I was told that this was someone I know."
Dale raised an eyebrow, "Great. That could be good, bad, or both."
Snake chuckled, "Yeah, you're right."

With that, Snake headed out the door to the alleyway. Sure enough, there was a fight going on....


great. he's hammered. I have to save the day. snake thought. the hobo had Rampage backed in a corner, Rampage didn't even know it. apparently he didn't know how bad he reeked, either.


the hobo started closing in on Rampage, "yoo want my chicky-cluck-cluck? I'll kill yoo!"

snake stepped up, "actually, I think not."

the hobo turned around, "whuh? whoo yoo?"
"the reaper. the mercenary of hell. a friend of a guy named Johnny C."

Snake charged at the hobo, digging his thumbs into the hobo's eyes and tearing open his skull. "HOW DARE YOU CORNER MY FRIEND, NO MATTER HOW HAMMERED HE IS!" Snake yelled as he ripped the brain out of the hobo's head and threw it against a brick wall.

"THAT should teach you to mess with my friends!"

damn, I'm not going to get any money out of this negotiation...
The Big Finale 05-11-2005 12:15 PM
To say that Vera Ronstadt was having a miserable day would be, if there was indeed such a thing, an understatement.

It wasn't very good for the nerves when you had to give a pep-talk to Union agents who were already on edge from the constant fear of being found out and captured, that were annoyed by the fact that they'd been called to a meeting during a dark and stormy night and thusly were soaked to the bone, and furthermore (and more relevant) were packing handguns.

Oh yes. Vera was having a bad day.

“My fellows...” she began, “though we are cold and tired, a great destiny awaits us! Soon we shall mount our final offensive upon this accursed City, and take the hidden Memories that lie deep below the surface. And with those Memories we shall create a new world, where we, the Union, will arise to our rightful place as those who should inherit the future!” Her short, though inspiring speech was met with a rousing cheer.

“Of course,” she added, “chances are most of you will die in the process.”

The clicks from guns being cocked was all the response the agents needed to make.

Vera scrambled behind a chunk of rubble, blonde curls nearly standing on end, just as her previous position was liberally peppered with bullets. Cursing her slip, even though she didn't see it as much of one, she made a break for the exit, managing to dash out the door, around a corner, and home free without getting hit.

If this was an episode of Looney Tunes, she'd drink a glass of water and then be shocked to see it pouring out of holes in her stomach. But it isn't, so I digress.

In any event, twenty minutes later would find Vera in one of the ritziest clubs in the Central Dome, sipping on a glass of wine. She acknowledged the few casual 'hellos' from various acquaintances she recieved with a simple wave of the hand. The light in the bar was appropriately dark, something for which she was thankful considering she was still nursing a headache brought on by all those guns going off at once.

This city was a plague, it had to die. But the food and drink were just too good to ignore, so Vera thought that until the time came to destroy it all, she'd enjoy what she could. All in moderation, of course.

"Waiter, another glash," she slurred, setting the empty one in her hand on a nearby table before almost toppling to the floor.
Tifaria 08-29-2005 11:55 PM
Angel placed her hands on her hips in disgust, looking down at the grinning, more-than-a-little-drunk Vera Ronstadt.

"I think you've had plenty to drink, actually."

"I waaanna 'nother glash, thanks," Vera said before slumping forward onto the tablecloth.

Luckily for Vera, the Nightengale Club was rather packed that evening, and most of the patrons were paying no attention to her. They were more focused on the singer on stage at the moment. She was singing something strange about raindrops and gumdrops, whatever the hell that meant.

"If all the raindrops were lemon drops and gumdrops..." It was a jazzy, upbeat, but slightly bizarre song.

Angel yanked Vera upright by her curls. This did nothing but cause Vera's head to flop backwards, her tongue lolling out to the side of her mouth.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Angel muttered. She threw her hands up in the air. "Vera Ronstadt, leader of the Union, ladies and gentlemen!" No one paid her any attention.

"Standing outside with my mouth open wide...!" crowed the singer.

"Aaah aah-ah-ah ahh ahh ahh ah ah!" sang Vera in response.

The song ended and the audience applauded politely. Vera threw her arms out to the side, smacking Angel in the face, and yelled, "Yaaaay!" before rolling over onto the floor.

"I give up!" Angel snapped. "Fine, stay here and pass out! See if I--"

"Waitress!" A snappily-dressed man was tapping the side of his wine glass with a fork. "Some service, please? We've been waiting for fifteen minutes!"

Angel rolled her eyes. "I'm coming." To Vera, she muttered, "Just stay put. The last thing you need to be doing is wandering around here drun--"


"I'm COMING! Just a MINUTE!" She gestured toward Vera, who was giggling uncontrollably. "I'm kind of BUSY here!"

But by the time she turned around again, Vera had already gotten up and wandered off and Angel couldn't see her anywhere in the dim lights of the Nightengale Club. She sighed and made her way to table number seven, where she refilled their wine glasses.

This week, she was "Colette A. Day", the new waitress at the Nightengale. This was what happened when you made your boss mad, she told herself, you ended up propping up foreign drunks and filling rich men's wine glasses.. unattractive rich men, at that. Now Roger Smith.. she wouldn't mind filling his wine glass, among other things. But she couldn't let him see her here. No way.

She made her way among the tables, filling glasses, taking orders, all the while singing, "If all the raindrops were lemon drops and gumdrops..." under her breath.

"Oh, what a rain that would be..."