(Aboard the Orca, Fjorxc's verticle takeoff attack aircraft over Rome, Italy)

(Buffy and Jo Bob the vampire slayers are the Orca with GAVAL, Ragin Cajun Slayer of Undead and Evil in General as Eddie the onboard computer approaches for a landing in Vatican Square.)

(GAVAL flips off a radio switch with a very satisfied look after talking with his allies in Irvine, CA.)

GAVAL: Good kicks ass.

Buffy: So I take it that means we won?

GAVAL: OEEP HQ is no more. Evil has been sent packing to the DSA Headquarter.

*He jumps up on a chair and bumps his head on the roof of the fuselage, recomposes himself and points a finger to the sky*

GAVAL: Once again, good has triumphed because evil is dumb!

Jo BoB: Actually, it's good that's dumb, but we always win anyway.

GAVAL: Right. Anyway, can someone explain why it took us a week to get here when people like the V-Man are jumping around the planet in seconds?

Buffy: Eddie had to stop for ice-cream.

GAVAL: Eddie's a computer.

Jo Bob: A hungry computer.

GAVAL: There was icecream in any town from Irvine to Rome.

Buffy: Eddie wanted South Venezualan ice-cream.

GAVAL: Eddie's a computer.

Jo Bob: A hungry one...

GAVAL: *shrugs* Anyway...where was I when all this happened?

Buffy: Your author was moving to New York. You didn't miss much. We took out a couple of arch-lich's while in Ven and I got this great Llama skin purse.

Eddie: Don't let Fjorxc catch you with that.

GAVAL: *Adjusts his hat in a mirror* Anything else happen while I was gone?
Jo Bob: Not much. V-man wants ta kill ya. Fron Nuked Michigan, but God cleaned up the mess to preserve Canonosity. A bunch of non-slayer rednecks are trying to kill all of Fron's Canadians. Phasmus is still sticky. The Canuckalisks got bored and went home. Namrock's teaching other people his evil magic and spreading pestilence in several dimensions....oh, and Nighteye has an undead Slayer waiting to kill you.

GAVAL: *chokes on a piece of beef jerkey* ACK!

Buffy: *administers Heimlich maneuver* Yes, we know...but until we get that demon Sephroth out of Cardinal Lazarus and free the Pope, we can't worry about all the other evil and wicked and vile and disgusting and putrid and....

Eddie: Naughty?

Buffy: ...naughty things going on around. *a chewed up piece of beef jerky flies up and sticks to the cieling as she ducks it and continues talking* You do draw attention from the bad guys, don't you?

GAVAL: *gets up as color returns to his face and wheezes* ee...vaa..h..l....

Jo Bob: Yup.

GAVAL: Anything else I should know?

Jo Bob: Prob'ly, but who has time to keep up with all the stories out there?

GAVAL: *gets up and adjusts his hat as he draws the Dawn Damner and holds it up to the sky* Well, they should all know that evil shall never succeed in its....evil...goals as long as the Ambiguous Slayers and CWAL are there to stop it!

(The Orca begins to decompress)

Eddie: Now that we've reaffirmed your goals for the 34th time today you should probably put that sword away and buckle up because you've severed our hydraulic lines, punctured a hole in the fuselage, and we're about to crash into the Vatican.

GAVAL: Well, dern...

*A piece of chewed up beef jerky falls to the floor in a nasty SPLAT*

(To be continued...)
-----

[Bill Clintons office]

(Fron walks in.)

Bill: Emperor Fron? How the hell did you get in here!?!

Fron: That's not any particular concern of yours. There are some ignorant rednecks somewhere in your country which we want to destroy. If you'll look the other way for a while, we'll make sure to reward you.

Bill: How?

(Fron presses a small button on a remote controll. The door to the office opens, and a robottic duplicate of Pamela Anderson walks in wearing a bikini.)

Bill: Okay, war's off!

(Bill and Fron shake hands, and the Emperor calmly walks out of the building.)

END

I'm pullin' myself out of authoring for this war (for the second time, no less).

I really don't have time to keep writing and stuff for it, I have about a week to finish a much longer and vastly more important (to me, at least) CWAL story before Ravil disembowels me.

After that, I may start caring about the GHW again, or I may not. Depends.

Anyway, ye can all use my characters and the Dominion and such, but keep in mind that I'm very likely to simply ignore anything major done to either. However, I may also keep a list of authors who do such things so I can brutally murder them later. Depends what kind of mood I'm in (currently not an exceedingly good one, so...).

Anyway, hopefully within a week and a half you'll all get to see the whole mess of stuff I've been working on for the past month.

Be afraid.

Evil totally sucks ass.

The Matrix has you now, boy.

Do not try to worship the shroom, because that is impossible. Instead, try to realize that there is no shroom at all.

Fear the Borealis.

[Scene: Blackvoid]

(Senthin appears in mid-air, mere feet away from Zenogias.)

Senthin: Bwahahaha!

(Senthin removes his sword and slices off Zenogias' leg. He then disappears in a gray haze.)

Zenogias: Ah cripes.

What happened:

Zenogias lost a leg, Senthin can use the Void to transport in and out of our reality, basically meaning he can pop up anywhere he wants. Flarb.

Post-box, so forgive it not being a masterpiece.

[Secondary Canadian HQ, 11:30 AM EST]

(Norf is in an emergency council session with Freerunner, who has been recalled from wherever she was.)

Freerunner: You WHAT?!

Norf: So I was a bit ticked off at the time...

Freerunner: Ticked off? Ticked off? "Ticked off" makes you hit a wall, not start a war with our largest trading partner and joke recipient! You have to stop this! We can't fight a two-front war.

Norf: Look, it's just some skirmishing right now. Maybe we can stop it before it really starts...Lackey! When is the US congress meeting to discuss this?

Lackey: Sources say it will convene in one and a half hours for an emergency council.

Norf: Not much time. You two! (points to random technicians listening in) Go over the spysat images for the past week. We need evidevce, stat! (the two scurry out) Bob!

Chief Scientist Bob of the Canadian Dominion: Yes sir?

Norf: How're we coming on tracing where the warp rifts originated from?

Bob: Well, whatever used that much energy sure left a strong signature. Unfortunately, the strength and the multiple targets have fuzzed our readings considerably. We have about 200 square kilometers where the transport activator could be located. Deep scanners are going nonstop, but it's slow work.

Norf: Not good enough. Make those instillations top priority. We have to get Fron and those bases back ASAP.

Bob: Will do! (runs out)

Freerunner: So what are you planning?

Norf: Doing the best I can and trusting the rest to Canadian luck...

[US House of Congress, 1:04 PM EST]

Speaker: ...neighbors to the North have gone too far this time. Their blatant attacks clearly consitute an act of war. I-

(He is interrpted by a lackey running down to him with a paper in hand. The lackey runs up and whispers in his ear, then runs off.)

Speaker: It seems that Acting Emperor Norf has something to say. Put him through.

(A large TV screen descends from the roof and lights up with the image of Norf.)

Norf: Greetings, US representatives. I know we have ahd our differences in the past, and I know it looks really bad for us now, but I think that we have just cause. As you can see (images of the XILE broadcast replace his face) a renegade group training in your own country has blatantly attacked the Canadian Dominion. We were merely retaliating for the abduction and possible assasination of our leader.

(The TV shifts to an overhead view of a forested hill)

Norf (voice only): We found this in the spysat logs. Forest cover prevented our algorythms from picking up any unusual activity, but when switched in infrared (the picture fills with red and orange blobs.) a huge number of human heat signatures appear. They're slightly off from norm, but that may be due to interference. (view shifts back to Norf) I think that you should be worried about your own country right now, not Canada. We will continue to fight this until it is no longer a threat to us. I ask that you allow us to do this, since such an army represents a threat to your internal security as well as our nation. Acting Emperor Norf out.

(The screen flicks off and retracts into the ceiling. The Speaker again takes the stand.)

Speaker: In light of these new developments, I move for a vote on declaration of war.

Representative: I second the motion.

Speaker: Very well. All in favor of declaring war on the Canadian Dominion, please...

[Secondary Canadian HQ 1:54 PM EST]

(Freerunner comes in, waving a sheaf of papers.)

Freerunner: Good news! The US has put off declaring war for at least a week!

Norf (brooding): Meaning it's a month or more before they can get all those politicians together again. Good. Recall the troops, but make sure they go along the last known areas of retreat, just in case the enemy stopped.

Freerunner: Yes sir!

(Norf hardly noticed the friendly grin she gave him as she went out. His thoughts were elsewhere. That army had taklen his brother and dropped him in Hod-knows-where. For all he knew, Fron was dead or worse. Phantom would pay dearly for that. He would kill her personally, if necessary.)

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

I plan on following this up soon. It will be interesting to see how Jari responds, and I respond, and Jari responds, etc etc etc...

Leach

After careful thought I decided that a paradox like I was originally planning was FAR too complex. Instead, my forces have not been affected by HODs intervention. Why repair what doesn't need to be fixed? There were no real problems in either Russia or the bay area. No major characters died in either of those places, therefore devine intervention would be unwarranted and wasteful. I'm posting in defiance of Frons will, not anyone else's. That was a very cheap shot, and one which I cannot duplicate. I wouldn't do so in any case. I, after all, am an honarable cat.

"What the hell was that?!" Winter asked of the world in general. All of the troops shook their heads wonderingly, trying to clear a mind numbing buzz, the sensation of being in two places at once, from their minds. Gradually the sensation passed, and seemingly nothing had happened. Winter knew better though. Something major had just tracked its way through their little part of the universe, and done something while it was here.

"Winterhh, report." His comm unit buzzed. "Winter here. Any idea what that was General?" Dei's reply came with a burst of of static. " ***-dea. I've just finished speaking with Rumias, Michigan has been nuked by Fron."

Winter felt a well of anger rise from within him. A deep red rage clouded his vision and his thoughts. 'My freinds. My FAMILY! GONE!' The radio unit gave a sharp little squeal as Winter began to crush it with his hand. "Winterhh! Respond-a pleasse!" 'Damn you too Dei', you knew something like this would happen. Knew that Fron would deal with any threat as soon as possible.'

"Michigan still-a exists!" Dei said matter of factly. "Yeah. As rubble..." Winter would like to strangle the little feline right then and there. "I have-a seen reports-a from our sattelites. I will-a give you a real-a time up-alink now." The uplink phased into existence on his comm unit. He recognized the heat blooms as factories. Traffic could be seen moving as infintesimal pixels on the screen. But something wasn't right.

"Dei', where are our defensive forces?" Winter asked. "What-a I've heard-a from Rumias is that-a a deity intervened and-a removed all signs of our faction from Michigan. All of our command-a staff is back at the ruined-a NP HQ."

Winter said the only thing that sprang to mind. "What's the plan General?"

**********

"Marcus, thank-a you for voulunteering. We need this cityh's resources, now more than ever." Dei' said to the officer. "I can-a leave you three hundred-a Frostiess. Have anyh of your men voulunteered-a as wellh?" Marcus nodded. "Two hundred are staying here with me." Dei' nodded. Marcus was a good leader, and a brave one.

"I have-a already ordered-a the transport-a subs to dive and-a rig for silent-a running. They arrre to make-a their way back-a to the bay area HQ if at-a all possible." Dei' looked up at the group. "We will evacuate-a via one of Karims portals to this locuss. Location-a. From there we will-a split-a into individual commands and coordinate our efforts in a massive guerilla war."

Dei' removed his finger from the site they were headed to. The officers nodded. It was a good plan, and one that could very well work.

**********

Captain Harrock looked up at the feed. The sattelite had locked onto their target, and the telemetry was almost compiled. His Hunter/Battleship, the MFS Yamamoto, lay low in the water, what superstructure there was barely rising above the deck. His ship was almost completely undetecable, even by Dominion sensor arrays.

But most importantly was the fact that Fron wasn't looking. And Adrien had decided to make the most of it while it lasted. Several of Fron's most important facilities were arrayed along the coast, and so had Adrien arranged his vessels. He was seven hundred klicks from the coast, seven hundred and forty from his target.

Yet he would still hit. The range of a super heavy ion cannon array was unmatched by any energy weapon. The power drain was enormous, and thus it was the only weapon a Hunter/Battleship had. It was also the only weapon it needed.

"Shunt all weapon power to forward primary arrays, and fire on my mark." A heavy silence hung in the air. Below the bridge, and beneath four layers of redundant reactor stealthing, power flowed into the ion arrays, loading them
up with power.

"Fire." Night turned into day as the ion cannons spewed forth a single volley. Behind them followed a wake digging tens of feet into the water. And on the horizon the false dawn came.

**********

As a Dominion scientist, Berel had always thought himself to be the best. It had often proved untrue, but Berel was blind to this, and his ego had grown ever more expansive. Berel looked out at the sea, the sound of the waves calming him after that ridiculous argument Karen had put up earlier. Afterwards the fool had asked to be transferred to a different base. Berel laughed. Another fool, unable to cope or compete with his brilliance.

Out to the west the sun rose. "Have I really been out here that long?" Berel said to himself. Berel checked his watch. 9:30. He looked up again. The sun was flying right at him. All of the things Berel had concerned himself with became moot in the lesser suns warm, bright glow.

**********

Fron was busy. The report from science base 34b about a strange magnetic anomaly did not catch his attention. Nor did the fact that the base had not reported back when ordered to do so. He was a busy man, and an important conference with his generals was calling.

**********

A pack of Frosties waded through the deep. Specially re-designed for the rigors of underwater infiltration, the Frosties moved to infiltrate and destroy their target. Despite their normally gabby nature the Frosties were silent, under orders not to talk. Their unipod grav repulsors made no noise. The ship paddock with Frons fast attack ships was ahead, and they easily cut through the wire netting protecting against divers.

**********

"Sir, we're picking up an error in fence circuits 40560 through 80592." The ensign said. "The biggest error we've ever had..." David stared out into the paddock. Fully a third of Frons Fast Reaction fleet was here. An ideal target, and one that was not as secret as one would think.

"ALARM! ALL CREW TO YOUR STATIONS!" David shouted into the mike. Fron's well trained crewers lept to the call, and hurried to their ships. As they powered up the Frosties opened fire. An unmanned ship exploded under the combined fire of the dozen Frosties, as they began their trademark jeering.

"Bite me, ya rotten egg!" Shouted one of the Mod Frosties. Trails of Plasma laced across the room, destroying another pair of ships. But by now many of vessels had their power active, and firing determinedly at the Frosties. Three of them went down in the first fulliasade, but the rest scattered and began running their I/H programs. The Frosties spread over the base spreading general havoc, before being destroyed, one by one.

**********

"...and therefore we need to reroute forces here and-" The comm unit beeped, and Fjorx activated the speaker unit before he could be stopped. "Sir!" Came the voice of a young ensign. "We have a problem!"

**********

"...and the base commander reccomended a commendation and promotion for Sergeant David Holt. Posthumous, of course." Norf finished. "Of course." Nodded Fron. "Any report from station 34b?" Fron asked. "No sir. We've tried all channels. Also, stations 32f, 41, and 67q have made no reports in the past twelve hours."

Fron slammed his fist into the table. "Damn it all to hell! Didn't HOD delete their faction entirely?" Fron asked. There was a pregnant silence. "Well?" Scientist Bob finally spoke up. "I've just reannalyzed the data from the mission and, well, apparently HOD only affected a small area of the continuum, leaving the rest intact. It is plausible that if HOD had excercised his full powers that the UF command staff would not only be sent to where they started but to when. With, or without their memories, but it would present a problem of a paradox."

Fron paced the room. It had started out such a good day, and now things were going downhill. "This meetings over." Fron said, a dangerous edge to his voice. The others left, and after a little while Fron walked through the halls of Castle Cattle Prod to the western parapet. In the distance particle fires glowed over the horizon, sparking the sense of dawn. It was midnight where Fron stood.

~fin~

What happened:

The UF survived Frons attack via means unknown (all purpose industrial strength laziness on HODs part apparently). Currently they are concentrating on a guerrilla war against Canada. As they are a choatic element however, any others who annoy them will also suffer as much wrath as they can mobilize.
A failed attempt to destroy Frons naval strength has alerted Fron to the fact that it was the UF.
Hunter/Battleships are currently stalking through the Pacific, after destroying four of Frons more important research/military bases.
Nearly all of the more advanced H/B models still survive, most of them being transported through Karims portal before it collapsed in Frons initial assault. They are extremely stealthy, dangerous, and fast, but lack the heavy armor of their Dominion kin.
The UF leaders and surviving MFS forces have scattered, making such total destruction as before impossible.

Part 16: Turnabout

(BlackVoid Computer Core)

Zenogias: Now, you die!

SimMaster: I came here for a reason. And it isn't to die!

Zenogias: Yeah, right.

(Containment Area 5)

(Master Tuff, jumps onto Z's neck)

Master Tuff: Must hold on. (Begins to concentrate)

Paradox: I hope this works.

(Z's eyes fill with the realization of what happened to him.)

Zethon: Destroy them! (Z does nothing) I SAID-

Z: GRAWWH!

Zethon: What?

Paradox: Yes! Master Tuff's Jedi influence freed Z's mind!

DarthNinny: Keen!

Master Tuff: 'Twas nothing. (Jumps back down on the ground)

Zethon: NO! (Z's tendril hand wraps around his would-be master) Arrrg!

Z: GRAH!

Paradox: Ha! Take that!

DarthNinny: (Eats a waffle) *munch munch*

(Z's eyes narrow on his prey as his slowly crushes him)

Zethon: Arrggh! I will not be finished yet!

Paradox: I don't see that happening.

Zethon: Arrrg! Razor! Activate 115!

Razor: Done.

(A device on Zethon lights up, as it pumps him full of his own chemicals)

Zethon: Ah hahahahahahahaha! (Zethon grows larger and breaks free of Z's grip.) You will pay for defying me! (Completes his transformation in a monster similar to Z, he thinks) = Hrmm, that's strange. This is supposed to react differently per organism. =

Z: GRAWH!

(Computer Core)

SimMaster: *BAM* (Smashes Zeno with a blast from the Whuppassinator)

Zenogias: (Undamaged) That the best you got?

*BOOM!*

(An explosion rips through the BlackVoid)

Zenogias: What the? MY SHIP! NO! You're not worth it! *THWACK* (Smacks SimMaster to the side and runs to save his ship)

SimMaster: Oof! I showed him! (SimMaster picks up the unconscious body of Orcfodder and heads off to the portal control room) I gotta get outta here.

(Containment Area 5)

*BOOM!* (Another explosion tears open the BlackVoid)

Zethon: Grrr. It is time to escape this dying ship. Razor! Activate Recall Hack!

Razor: Hacked into Blizzard Recall Control. Activating!

(A blue light envelops Zethon and Razor and they disappear)

Z: GRRAWWH!

Paradox: We have to leave!

Master Tuff: Yeah.

(They run out of the room and head to the Portal Room)

SimMaster: (Carrying his laptop and Orcfodder) Guys!

Paradox: (To Z) Mind if you carry Orcfodder?

Z: (Nods and picks up the fallen footman)

SimMaster: Thanks, you have no idea how heavy that armor is.

(1 mile outside the Blizzard Nowhere Facility's Ruins)

*SSSHHOOM!* (A blue portal spits out Zethon)

Zethon: Hey!

(The portal spits out his computer, which smacks him in the face.)

Zethon: Ouch. Activate Reverse. (The doctor is filled with the counter agent and returns back to his normal form.) Ahh, better.

Razor: Sir, I observed that there was a similarity between you and the test subject. Does not the chemicals work differently per genetic code? While, there were differences, you were comparable in appearance.

Zethon: I know. Could Fate have just slapped me in the face without my noticing?

Razor: What I believe you are proposing is highly improbable. There were no recorded survivors found.

Zethon: I still see that fire burning, it was so long ago. It burns in my soul now, forever and vengeful.

Razor: Yes, I was there as well. It was good that you took me along on that supply run. What shall you do now?

Zethon: Activate Program Lost Memories.

Razor: I hope you know what you are doing, some things should be left in the past.

Zethon: Just do as I say. *sigh* What a beautiful night, I hope that I shall see that ship explode, it would appear most magnificent.

Razor: I shall keep my optical sensors trained on its position.

Zethon: (Looks back up at the sky) Yes, watch the skies, Fate still probably has surprises for us yet.

(BlackVoid Portal Room #3, inside sirens blare as the ship prepares to die.)

Paradox: This is the place!

SimMaster: I'll try to get this sucker working.

Soldier: You can't be in here!

SimMaster: Well, you're an extra, run about aimlessly in terror.

Soldier: Oh, thanks for reminding me! AHHHHHHH! *WHUMP* (Runs into a wall)

SimMaster: *Tapity Tapity Tapity* (SimMaster works furiously as he works on the console)

DarthNinny: Hurry up!

SimMaster: I gotta remember all the standard map and grid coordinates of Irvine! I need to concentrate! *Tapity Tapity Tap* Done. (Hits a big red button and a massive portal opens up.)

Paradox: Let's get outta here! (They jump into the portal)

(A Street in Irvine)

*FWSHHHOOOOOM!* *WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!*

(The portal opens and the CWALers smash into the ground)

Paradox: Oof! Simmy! You teleported us 20 feet over the street!

SimMaster: I guess I forgot to add that decimal point on the vertical axis. Heh.

Paradox: I show you a F&%$in' decimal point! (Takes out the Smack Down Bat of Authority™ and hits SimMaster good.) *THWACK!*

DarthNinny: Let's go back to the HQ.

Z: (Happily) GREEH!

To Be Continued . . .

The Catacombs of Limbo .01...

Phasmus and his high-level administrator are sitting on the floor below one of the island's
reactors, surrounded by toxic radioactive mist. Between them is a small game board, and
a large number of dice....

Cog: YHATZEEEEEEE!!!!!

Phasmus: DOH!
Wait... I propose a deal. If you give ME that level one yhatzee I will transfer to you, my
level five quadruple six...

Cog: A tempting offer... Wait! What's the interest rate on your quadruple six???

Phasmus: Well, er... um... 50%...

Cog: Sorry Phasmus, I'm not falling for it this time!

Phasmus: Blast! I hate this game...

Cog: Well, it beats playing tic-tac-toe on Namrok's box's window, now doesn't it?

Phasmus: I can't argue with that. Very well, we shall continue...

-Phasmus is proven incorrect, as a nearby pillar begins to beep. He stands up slowly to
answer it, having stuck to the ground a bit from sitting for several hours.-

Phasmus: Yes, what is it? I'm in the middle of an important game of beaurocrayhatzee...

Minion: UNNNGGGG!!! (A brief message sir. It seems WUSS wanted to contact you
about something)

Phasmus: It will have to wait. I'm too busy to deal with them until I return to earth. Has
there been any progress in the examination of the 747 crash?

Minion: AAAARRRGGGHHH!!! (yes sir. We received the preliminary reports just an
hour ago. The detectives found evidence of finger prints on the cargo hold doors.)

Phasmus: So what? They could have been left there by anyone.

Minion: UNNNGGGG!!! (No sir, they were crushed into the metal!)

Phasmus: Have them examined, and quickly! Was there anything else?

Minion: ARRRRGGGGG!!! UNNNNGGGGG!!! (Yes! There was a very distinct scent
of... sage left on various chunks of the cargo hold. Also, the few victims we were able to
acquire and reanimate reported seeing something, or someone, flying away from the plane
just after it depressurized.)

Phasmus: Sage... why does that sound familiar? Anyway, find out who belongs to those
finger prints. For the time being, we can forgo the liquidation of the airline officials
responsible for the flight. The crash was not due to technical error, it would seem...

Minion: UNNGG! (Yes sir. I will return to my duties now.)

Phasmus: Wait... Has there been any sign of Paradox or Darth Ninny?

Minion: AAAARRRGGGHHH!!! (They've been in and out. I don't know where they are
now. If I see them I'll have them contact you.)

Phasmus: Very well. I can't stay in the dark much longer... I want you to compile all the
information you can on the current war situation. I need to know what's going on over
there. Who knows what profitable opportunities I may be missing...

Minion: UNNNGGG!!! (We await your return sir. I will keep you informed of... Wait,
what was that?)

Phasmus: What?

Minion: ARRGGH!! (The catacombs are shaking!!!)

Phasmus: What? Why? Is it an earthquake???

Minion: UUUUUUNNNGGGGGGGG!!!!!... AIIIIEEERRRRRRGGGG!!! (Oh, oh no!
The Canuckilisks!!! They... they... NOOOOO!!! AIIIIEEERRRRRRGGGG!!!)

-The screen flashes to static for a brief moment, and then comes back, showing the
minion being ripped to shreds by a canuckilisk. Just before the screen goes blank for the
last time, the posterior of a rather large Hunter Killer can be seen pressed against the
camera.-

Phasmus, slowly turning away from the pillar: Cog... The Canuckilisks just attacked the
catacombs.

Cog: Does this mean we don't get to finish our game?

Phasmus, giving cog a harsh look: Yes, Cog, it means we don't get to finish our game.
I'm going back to CWAL prime right now!

Cog: But, what about the "trade"? What about Namrok???

Phasmus: You know how to handle the "trade"... As for Namrok, I have something
special in mind. The Ghazpork worshipers will have to wait a while longer to get their
processed lich.

Cog: Very well sir. I shall resume business as usual.

Phasmus: Good. And remember, if the DSAers do show up, they will not be playing fair.
Make sure you kill them as cleanly as possible.

Cog: I understand sir.

Phasmus: Failure will be dealt with harshly...

Cog: I know.

-Phasmus turns away from the administrative Spectre and presses a button on a nearby
pillar. A swirling vortex of duct tape and green light appears in front of him. He steps
through, and vanishes. Deep in the high-security storage sector of the complex, Namrok
was surprised to find himself being similarly transported elsewhere...-

The remains of the Irvine Catacombs...

Phasmus warps into view, and is soon followed by the large metal and plastic box
containing Namrok's freeze-dried essence. The catacombs have been utterly destroyed.
Huge piles of rock and duct tape are scattered everywhere, along with the majority of
Phasmus's reserve forces. All destroyed in a few moments by the Canuckilisk onslaught.
Phasmus looks around, displaying no emotion.

Phasmus: SURVIVING MINIONS! COME!!!

Out of the depths of the catacombs, a few dozen mummies approach.

Phasmus: Are you the only ones left?!

Minion: AIIERGGG! (No sir. There are many more stuck in blocked off chambers.
Total horde losses were around 60%.)

Phasmus: How is that possible??? We outnumbered the Canuckilisks down here nearly
twenty to one!

Minion: UNNNNGGG! (I know sir. We thought they were on our side. They caught us
completely off guard. Most of us were resting when they attacked. About 80% of the
causalities were trampled out of undeath before they even knew what was happening!)

Phasmus: Ravil and his biological monstrosities will pay dearly for this outrage... one
way or another. How much structural damage was done?

Minion: UUNNNNGGG!!!! ARRRGGGHHH!!! (About 20% of the catacombs is
caved in, another 30% is blocked off, so we can't tell how much actual damage has been done. We lost seventeen resin pit rooms. Your artifact room
and your personal chamber is blocked off, but intact. We don't know what the state of the
rune chamber is.)

Phasmus: And the living members of VILE nowhere to be seen... -sigh-. Get what
minions you can, and begin reconstructing and clearing.

Minion: UNG!!! (Yes sir!)

-The minions lurch into the darkness, moaning quietly to each other. Phasmus slowly
turns to Namrok's crate, and looks inside the water-tight box at the lich's gruesome face.
He reaches up and taps on the glass (Which is smeared with ecto-goo and tape resin from about eight hours worth of tic-tac-toe), chuckling evilly. Namrok's eyes flare brightly, and a
slight hissing sound issues from his immobile lips.-

Phasmus: Now Namrok, I realize you must be rather upset with me, so you probably
aren't going to agree with my proposition right away. You see, I need your help.

-Namrok's eyes flicker with hatred-

Phasmus: Now now, remember I still have the upper hand. Here is my proposal; I will
use you to destroy the DSA, and take care of a few other minor tasks. Then, I will restore
you to your body, and let you go in peace. And as a token of my good faith, I'll even let you take the spoils
of the war... What's left of the DSA anyway.

-Namrok, of course, remains silent. But his eyes look vaguely intrigued-

Phasmus: Oh, one more thing. I feel that honesty may be the best policy in this case. So,
I will tell you right now that I will try to liquidate you as soon as your usefulness is over.
You, in turn, I suspect will attempt to stab me in the back at your earliest convenience. So, we shall both be on our guard now, eh?

-There is no obvious response-

Phasmus: Good, now that that's settled, I shall begin the reconstitution process. Your
essence will be restored using duct tape vapor. You will be in wrathform until you rejoin
your body. That has it's own set of advantages and disadvantages, but most importantly,
as long as you are of the tape, you can not directly oppose me. I will begin the
reconstitution process shortly. In the meantime, you'll be safe in one of my resin pits. It
will be virtually impossible to detect you, and even more difficult to retrieve you for
anyone but myself.

-Phasmus pushes the large metal box into a nearby vault. Inside the chamber is a bubbling
pit of grey duct tape resin. The fumes would be enough to overwhelm most living entities.
Phasmus pushes Namrok's box into the pit, and the essence of the lich slowly sinks out of
sight.-

Phasmus: See you soon, Nammy. I would love to stay and chat, but you've become
rather dull lately, and I have some catching up to do regarding the war...

-Phasmus calmly walks out of the room, and into the surviving network of catacombs.
After a while, he reaches his office under city hall. He dials a number, and moans into the
phone in a rather unpleasant manner. A short series of moans come in reply. Phasmus
moans again and hangs up the phone.-

Phasmus: -sigh- Attacks on Darkvoid, and Canada, and pretty much everywhere else, golems, waffles, all
without me on hand to convert the resulting chaos into wealth. How very depressing. And to top it all off, my contact tells me that -twich- Xel'Naga -twich- impersonators have been sighted. THEY WILL DIE! OH HOW THEY WILL DIE! ALL WHO OPPOSE THE XEL'NAGA WILL BE LIQUIDATED!!! -twich-
What was I just saying? I must remember to run my diagnostic scans more often. These memory lapses are upsetting...
-TWICH- ALL WHO IMMITATE THE XEL'NAGA WILL BE DESTROYED!!! -twich-
Now, back to business... A new source of living minions to further the extent of my profit derived from this war...

-The tape fiend picks up the phone again, and presses a long series of numbers on the resin
coated keypad. The beep of an answering machine can be heard on the other end.-

Phasmus: Hello, Chaotic Element HQ... This is Phasmus of Phasmus & Co. I understand
you wish to go forth and destroy with impunity. I may have an offer you'd be interested in...

The camera pulls back, until only the bright glow of Phasmus's eyes can be seen through
the darkness, and his words are lost in the echoes of the catacombs. After a few moments,
the click of the telephone connection being closed can be heard, and all is dark.

Here's what happened:

The Canunkilisk attack caused a hefty amount of damage to the catacombs and the horde.
Phasmus has left Limbo .01 and returned to Irvine.
Cog is once again in charge of Limbo .01 He has an unpleasant welcome prepared for any
DSAers that should stop by.
Phasmus has Namrok securely stored in a resin pit, and intends to use the essence of the
lich to destroy the forces of the DSA and reacquire the Egyptian Book of the Dead.
Phasmus is now more-or-less aware of the recent events in the war.
The existance of Xel'Naga in and about the war is making Phasmus twich a lot.
Phasmus has contacted what remains of the Chaotic Element forces, and has proposed an
enticing temporary employment deal.
All opposition will be liquidated.

Regards,

Phasmus & Co.

Note: Since I am, in fact, in college now, and am thus rather busy, it is hard for me to write a great deal (And even harder for me to write well, as this story may show). I do not intend to continue the plot elements within this story any time soon. I encourage anyone interested to pick up where I left off. I don't have time to write, but I do have time to read. Let's keep the tape rolling!

Seeking Ether, Part Three
by Duraznos

******************

Aboard Blackvoid, Zenogias paced (as well as he could, considering,) nervously. The war was progressing unevenly. He was worried about a dozen different things.

A screen blinked.

He looked up, and tapped a few keys.

"Blackvoid."

A sinister face appeared on the screen.

"Ah, excellent."

"Uh...who are you?"

"A friend."

"Evil doesn't have friends. Evil has lackeys and other evil they want to stab in the back."

"Maybe you haven't met the right kind of evil, then."

"I do not know what to say to that."

"Of course not."

The figure on the screen chuckled evilly.

"I am willing to help your little endeavour."

"And why should I trust you. You're obviously evil, just like I am."

"Yes, but while you are evil as in adjective, I am evil as in noun. I AM EVIL."

"I hear that about a hundred times a day here."

The murky figure on the screen suddenly coalesced into a coherent form.

"Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Baelrixthezes."

******************

After losing contact with Gaval, Duraznos had led the squad of Guradians towards what (he thought) was OEEP headquarters. (but you playing along at home know what happened to that, don't you?) Along the way, they had been severely ambushed and chased into an abandoned construction yard by a legion of crack DSA troops who were almost giddy at the thought of enemies they could actually kill.

The sporadic sound of gunfire from distant battles rattled the concrete sewer pipe Duraznos was crouched behind, machine pistol firmly in hand.

"Why did we let you talk us into this?" asked a heavily bleeding Guardian by his feet.

"I didn't. You talked yourselves into it."

Their conversation was cut short by the close-by barking of high-velocity ammunition.

The group was thrown into chaotic battle. Each Guardian attacking with whatever weapons they had armed themselves with, often resorting to their considerable fortitude with swords and knives to dispatch the DSA troops who were used to firearm-based combat.

"GET DOWN!"

"Damn! They're everywhere!"

"Well, we did run into about a MILLION of them!"

"DIE EVIL SCUM!"

Duraznos turned a corner in a blaze of gunfire and watched three soldiers knocked backwards, sliding through the mud, clutching their stomachs in agony.

He turned, and saw a running Guardian jerked up into the air and spin crazily, the target of some careful sniper.

It began to rain.

"This is crazy," he muttered to himself, and blurred out of existance.

He faded in on the other side of the building, and reloaded.

Before he could do anything, a DSA soldier jumped up behind him.

"DIE YOU MISERABLE WORM!"

The world seemed to slow down as the faceless enemy slid his finger up to the trigger and took aim.

A flash of silver appeared, and the body of the soldier crumpled under a fountain of blood.

A figure slid into the ditch Duraznos was sitting in.

"Thanks."

All he got was a glare.

"I think."

Wordlessly, his benefactor jumped off to rejoin the fray.

Duraznos got to his feet uneasily, and skittered through the rain puddles and mud to where a group of Guardians had taken shelter behind a wooden building and were exchanging fire with DSA snipers.

He incanted a sheild and felt the bullets' heat glancing away from him. He heard the soft screaming sound they made as they whistled by his head, deflected.

"How are we doing?"

"We've lost about thirteen, and that was the last time I checked. We're all out of juice and afraid to move. They've got us pinned down, here."

Duraznos squinted.

"It can't be that bad. They're getting as badly beaten as we are."

He turned.

"Look, they're retreating from behind that bulldozer. And there," he pointed, "those two are laying down cover fire."

Sure enough, several DSA footmen sprinted between an opening, two carrying an injured third.

"If we can find their commander, we can stop this."

One of his companions turned.

"He's behind the snipers."

"How do you know?"

A bullet struck the wood above them.

"We saw him."

"Fair enough."

Duraznos started to suint, but realized that he had been doing a lot of dramatic squinting lately, and stopped.

"I've got enough power to teleport over there, and maybe a little more. I'm also out of ammo."

"Here."

He was tossed a pistol.

"Cap him for me."

"I'll try. Cover me."

The three Guardians opened fire as Duraznos blinked out again.

The commander of the DSA troops watched the battle from behind the safety of six of his best snipers.

"Damn it! Why can't we ever fight anything easy to kill! Like big pink bunnies, or something?"

There was a click.

"Don't move," said Duraznos, who was behind him.

"Damn it!" said the commander. "this always happens! This ALWAYS happens!"

Duraznos pressed the gun into the base of his skull.

"Hey, folks. You best drop those guns right away!"

The six DSA snipers slowly got up and raised their hands.

"Now," said Duraznos, "let's have a little cease-and-desist, 'kay?"

The commander raised his communicator shakily.

"C-c-c-cease f-f-fi-fire."

"Ah. Much better."

Quickly, the remaining Guardians arrived with DSA prisoners in tow.

"Now, then," said Duraznos. "I think you had better surrender."

Suddenly, the commander began to chuckle evilly.

Duraznos has heard that laugh before.

"Oh, sh-" was as far as he got before he and every other Guardian was thrown against the ground, unable to move.

The DSA forces began to shimmer and became distorted.

With an audible click, the psychographic projections faded away and left Duraznos and six helpless Guardians looking at their greatest enemy, and also an enemy which they were...um...was....not so great.

"Bael. I knew it was you."

Duraznos squinted again, and didn't give a damn if he looked overly dramatic.

"Who's your robot friend?"

"Ah. I'd like you to meet Zenogias."

"Really? I always thought he'd be shorter. And...uh...not a robot."

Zenogias turned...uh...whatever color it is when robots get embarrased.

"You shut up!"

And then, without too much more in the way of conversation, Duraznos and his companions were taken to Blackvoid.

Two of them died on the way.

One of them was killed trying to escape.

One of them has a lot of annoying earwax.

******************

SUMMARY:

Duraznos and three as yet unnamed Guardians have been taken to Blackvoid. (as prisoners, just to clear that up, smart ass.)

The DSA now has access to the considerable arcane and technological forces of the Guardians of the Dark Essence, but don't know what it is they REALLY want.

This story did NOT have any monkeys in it.

So, there you go. My super-powerful force has been reduced to four. HAPPY NOW?

Oh, and someone please rescue me.

*In limbo .01*

PMD: Namrok's not here!

Revanant: Damn! I know! Lets teleport to Namrok's location!

PMD: Ok! But first I'm going to blow up half of Phasmus's Limbo Operation!

Revanant: OK!

(Boom!)

*Back on CWAL prime*

Phasmus: HAHA! I'm gonna turn Namrok in to my slave!

PMD: No you arn't! I'm going to ironically kill you!

Phasmus: No! Not acetate!

PMD: BWHAHAHA! Your being liquidated! How Ironic.

(Phasmus Melts into a puddle.)

Revanant: Quickly! Lets put the puddle that was formerly known as Phasmus in this glass jar!

PMD: Good idea! Although he isn't dead, he won't be able to reconstitue himself! Hint hint!

Revanant: Cool! Now I'll scribe this rune on namrok's forehead and send his soul back!

(Revanant scribes the rune)

Namrok: BWAHHA! Now I'll kill you Phasmus!

PMD: You cant! Your going back to your body!

Namrok: Oh right! *poof*

PMD: Alright! Bye!

*The end!*

What happened-
-Phasmus is now liquidated in a jar and can't do anything, cept sit and think.
-PMD has captured Phasmus.
-Namrok is back in his body.
-Limbo .01 has been decimated, and losses are estimated at 50%
-Phasmus's stock has dropped 10 points.
-Cog is now the head person in charge of Phasmus & Co.
-Evil has been offically declared good by the EPA (Evil Protection Agency)

Now! This would have been a much BETTER story if Phasmus hadn't screwed my storyline with his last story! *Grumble* Your only making me madder you damn mummy. *Sniff* Ten frucking pages of work down the drain. Oh well.

Cause some people are anal.
I also ask that the rest of you wrap it up so I can get on with my stories

I'm too lazy to remove all those old posts. You should be bringht enough to figure out what happened.