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Wafflehouse 5

 
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TechnoAtheist
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Joined: 08 Aug 2002
Posts: 922
Location: !Boise

PostPosted: Tue Sep 10, 2002 9:02 am    Post subject: Wafflehouse 5 Reply with quote

Tucked away in a secret drawer of a hidden desk near the abandoned sub-basement of a website that shall not be named, there's a new feature. That feature is a Continue-a-story type affair where folks continue a chapter that someone else begun (There are a few differences, but that's beside the point).

Since I'm not considered a member in good standing over there (something about the fact that even with top promotion my site only got six hits. Total), I'm presuming that the Science Fiction story I submitted will either be rejected, heavily edited, or reduced to a series of smilies and 'LOL's.

So I'm doing my own challenge.

The message that follows this is the first chapter. I think it does a reasonably good job at setting the tone and a bit of the character. These, obviously are not cannon, and feel free to follow whatever point you wish. The only rules are:

1. The story ends when it ends. If this works out well, I'll do others.
2. Things are probably going to get confusing fast. If you can remember, make your subject line refer to the person and date of the chapter you're following up. I'll try to organize things better when I copy things over to a more permanent site.
3. Don't be intimidated. Part of the fun of this is working off of the universe we're all creating. That may mean that your favorite character is reduced to a pile of radioactive space bunny poop. That just means it's up to you to figure out a way to get him or her back.
4. My decisions are final. Sorry, someone's got to wear the black editor hat, and since it's my idea, that would be me.

Let's get the show rolling, shall we?
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TechnoAtheist
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PostPosted: Tue Sep 10, 2002 9:06 am    Post subject: Chapter 1 - Reply with quote

Brian Hughes woke up in a different time zone.

Now, this would not be an altogether uncommon experience provided that he were on some sort of vessel or otherwise willfully transporting himself about. Sadly, at least for Mr. Hughes, this was not the case. Instead he simply rolled over at the all to familiar drone of his alarm clock and slapped the snooze button.

Normally any other servo drone would probably take offense at being brutishly slapped on the head while attempting service the power coupling Mr. Hughes' bed was currently located beside. Fortunately, this one simply continued to work on the giga-jule relay and watched idly as a conducting wire fell against the bed's frame. The bot simply clamped onto the opposite polarity feed and sincerely hoped that the lazy sod of a meatling didn't decide to duplicate his previous action.

Fate smiled broadly on Mr. Hughes that day (or possibly night, it was very difficult to tell) and he simply rustled the covers before stretching, sitting up, and taking a rather sudden ten foot drop to the superstructure support catwalk below.

The wistful mists of morning departed far faster than they had ever managed to do before.

Brian, being your reasonably average and moderately well rounded individual, immediately surveyed his current conditions, and set about a quite vigorous and healthy round of incoherent screaming, occasionally peppering the experience with bursts of obscenity that would have send drill sergeants scrambling for notepaper.

After coming to from his unexpected morning panicking, Brian once again surveyed his surroundings. Had he been a fan of various higher quality science fiction, he might have been awestruck by the majesty of the towering conduits and intricately intertwined structures and passages. Had he been interested in architecture he would have noted that he was located in some part of a vast building or mechanism as the whole structure vibrated with a faint throbbing hum.

Instead, Brian made vague, monkey-like noises.

It wasn't until after he had leapt into the air and started shaking his fist at what he saw that he noticed the somewhat surprised looking individual dressed in a garish orange and yellow jump suit.

"Ooh-ooh, GAAAH!" Brian yelled in surprise and nearly launched himself over the railing.

"Uhm, Me Tycho. You... err.. I'm sorry, but I have no idea who you are." Tycho shifted on his foot a bit ready to slam the door back in place if the screaming looney started foaming.

"Where the Hell am I?" Brian yelled more than asked.

Tycho smiled weakly, "Boise?"

Brian was about to throw a fit, then stopped. "Boise?"

"Have you ever been to Boise" Tycho asked.

"Well, no." Brian replied.

"Ah, then it's definitely Boise." Tycho smiled a bit more.

Brian folded his arms and looked at his current companion. "Tycho? Do you play poker (why we haven't even dated yet!)?"

Tycho quite obviously had no idea what "poker (why we haven't even dated yet!)" was and shook his head to confirm it.

"Pity." Brian said, "I have a feeling I could use the money."

Tycho smiled in recognition, which quickly faded as he realized he still had no idea what the strange individual had just said.

Brian, having found a bit of happiness in thoroughly confusing Tycho, stretched out a hand. "My name is Brian Hughes. And I still have no idea where I am."

Tycho looked a bit disappointed, "So you don't believe we're in Boise?"

Brian glared.

"How about Sheboygan?"

Brian continued to glare.

"Ok, ok," Tycho relented. "We're in Cleveland."

Brian was an Olympic quality glarer, and was more than happy to continue to demonstrate that.

"No, really, we're on the third moon of BG-90811. Here."

Tycho produced a small digital pad displaying a stylized star map. He pointed to what first appeared to be a broken pixel. The map shifted focus and zoomed in... several times... to the third moon of the fourth planet. "It's just that folks tend to get a bit depressed when they wind up in Cleveland."

"Some things never change."

Tycho laughed, again having no idea what Brian meant.

"So you mind telling me what I'm doing in this paradise?" Brian asked.

"You mean other than trespassing and nearly becoming forty kilos of ash?" Tycho responded sarcastically.

"Trespassing? How.. Look all I know is that last night I'm at some damn sales convention in Maple Ridge and this morning I wake up here. For all I know this is some sort of nightmare or a bad canape."

"It's not." Tycho responded blandly as he typed a series of strokes into the data pad.

"Oh yeah? Why should I believe you?"

"How often do you recognize a nightmare when you're having one?" Tycho said

Brian stopped, Tycho had a point.

"h-e-double-hockeysticks, I've had ones where I'm pursued by giant plates of macaroni and cheese, and do you ever think I suddenly stop dodging yellow death to say, 'Gee, this makes no sense. I must be having a nightmare?' h-e-double-hockeysticks no. I keep running."

"Oh yeah?" Brian said defiantly, "well I'm going to wake up from this one!" Brian then set about slapping himself while yelling for himself to wake up. Tycho simply stood by and watched.

Five minutes later Brian looked far worse for wear. "This... this isn't a nightmare, is it?"

Tycho slowly shook his head.

"I.. I really am on some moon called 'Cleveland', aren't I?"

Tycho slowly nodded.

"Crap." Brian slid down to the floor.

Tycho finished entering in whatever arcane data into this touch pad. "Brian, was it?"

Brian nodded "Yep. Brian Hughes."

"Can I ask you what today's date is?"

Brian mumbled, "Shoot, I don't know. I don't have my PDA. Uhm, I think it's August twenty-something. two thousand and two."

Tycho stopped entering data into his pad. His eyes grew a bit bigger. "Uh-oh..."
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Hetta
Mod
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Joined: 09 Aug 2002
Posts: 336
Location: Helsinki, Finland

PostPosted: Wed Sep 11, 2002 12:35 pm    Post subject: Re: Chapter 2 - TA 10Sep 09:06am Reply with quote

TechnoAtheist wrote:
Tycho stopped entering data into his pad. His eyes grew a bit bigger. "Uh-oh..."


All of a sudden a red rectangle appeared in midair. It grew until it was 3x3m; at that time it shimmered and three well-muscled, scantily clad, bronzed and oiled Adonis-clones stepped through. (Editor's note: Very Happy)

"Right, we'll take over now", said one of the Adonises.

While Brian just looked confused, Tycho obviously knew these guys. He backed away slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves.

Two of the Adonises strode briskly towards Brian and took him under the arms, towed him towards the doorway and went back trough it. Brian's loud protests were cut off suddenly as he, too, disappeared into the shimmer. The third Adonis looked around to see if anything was left, nodded to himself in satisfaction, and followed the others. The rectangle soon stopped shimmering and closed with a fizzle.

Shocked "Oh lordy, how will I explain to Wotan that I finally found his son, but lost him to Apollo's minions? I hope he won't set his ravens on --" Tycho's voiced laments were cut off by an oversized beak.

"A bit too crunchy", said Hugin, and flapped off into a haze on the horizon, probably to report to Wotan.

Munin, the other raven, croaked a few words and an off-red rectangle expanded in mid-air. He went through as it got big enough to shimmer. This rectangle, too, disappeared with a *pop*.

-----

Question What happened to our hero? Is he really the long-lost son of Wotan? Did Tycho have a direct line to his backup personality? Tune in to this same channel, next time, same place! Exclamation
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TechnoAtheist
Überdork
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Joined: 08 Aug 2002
Posts: 922
Location: !Boise

PostPosted: Sat Sep 14, 2002 1:36 pm    Post subject: Re: Chapter 2 - TA 10Sep 09:06am Reply with quote

Hetta wrote:
He went through as it got big enough to shimmer. This rectangle, too, disappeared with a *pop*


"Cyril? Would you please take a look at this?"

"What is it, love?" Cyril said as he flowed back into the room, balancing a tea set on several of his tentacles.

Spblurbg, pressed two of his claws against his thorax while his larger pincer moved one of the clone's arms up and down, "This Adonis, it's squeaking again."

Cyril put down the tea tray and in an over dramatic flurry of motion pirouetted and slithered back toward the door, "Right, I'll go get the oil. You know this wouldn't have been a problem if you hadn't requested that they be made of bronze, you know."

"Look," Spblurbg yelled out the door, "we're getting good money from that Juno guy I figured that if you kept insisting on warbots, we could at least have ones that were more stylish."

"You call these stylish? Look, they've only got one tentacle and it's not even that long. h-e-double-hockeysticks, I don't even thing it bends."

"That's all you think about, Cyril, isn't it?"

Cyril never got a chance to retort as the Port-o-Pals began their needlessly flashy sequencing and the three warbots returned.

"Oh look, it's Adonii and Marie."

"Oh give it a rest Spblurbg, you say that every time they come through that thing. Plus there's three of them so the joke doesn't even work right."

"Well, you're just no fun! Well, let's take a look at our little prize. Cyril? What's he doing?"

"I believe he's making monkey noises."

"Well, the first bit of poop he flings, you're cleaning it up!"

---

The servo bot hovered in a slow droning annoyed fashion while it waited for the recycler to finish. The recycler made a noise similar to a parrot having flown into a major power line, it was finished. Well, that or the fries were done.

The door slid open and no potato product poured out. Tycho blinked and put a hand to his newly refabricated head. They never fit right.

"Yo, Yo, Yo, welcome back to da' house Tycho."

The statement was made by a floating screen that drifted in to fill the place the servobot emptied.

Tycho grimaced. As if the day wasn't bad enough.

On the screen was a bearded face wearing dark sunglasses and a baseball hat at an odd angle. The figure had several gold tooth caps and pointed with hands bearing gaudy gold rings.

Tycho tried to remain calm, despite the garish appearance of a Norse God gettin' down with his homie roots, "Ah, sir, let me explain..."

"No you listen, sucka, You done lost me ma boy, and Wotan don' like that. I'm givin' you just three days to get him back from those daym muthas o' else you be spendin' time as my dishwasher, you down?"

"Yes sir."

"I'm Audi." and with that the vision faded from the screen.

Tycho rubbed his head again. He had no idea what he had done to deserve being the whipping bot for the Wotan Clan, but that was another issue for another time. Unless he wanted to be scrubbing chicken and waffles from platters for the rest of his existence, he'd have to find Brian. Fast.

Of course convincing him that he was the son of a Nordic god with a fetish for trends would not be fun either.

"J6.." Tycho called out. "J6, stop setting fire to that bed and get down here. We've got work to do."
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The Grayhound Chronicles
"TGC is less like a web serial and more like the Al Azif in bite-size form."
--~Steve-o
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TechnoAtheist
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PostPosted: Tue Sep 24, 2002 6:55 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Far above (and slightly to the left) a dark ship moves through the blackness of space. On board, the events playing out on a less reputable portion of a long ignored moon quietly unfold on a massive screen.

The flickering light does little to penetrate the dimly lit area as shadows of shadows watch with unblinking eyes.

"Have the Addonis arrived yet?" a voice whispers in a rasp just below a cackle.

"We do not know", the only reply.

A sound, not entirely unlike claws pressing deeper into an armrest is heard. "And why not?"

"Because we can not see the damn instruments."

"Are you suggesting that we rely on the accursed light? We surrender ourselves to it's glaring? We suffer the pains of it's lashing brilliance?"

A moment of silence.

"Well, yes, actually. Look it doesn't have to be that bright, you know, but it would help."


In a cloud of angst, the first voice concedes, "Alright, turn on your precious light."


There is the sound of skittering claws against metal, followed by the sound of a garbage disposal, then brief apologies, then a garage door opening, stopping, then closing, a few more apologies.

Finally a third voice speaks, "I've got one of those little book light thingies. Would that help?"

"Uh, sure." the second voice responds.

Stacks of unknown items are overturned and the names of several alien dieties are invoked as otherworldly shins discover long forgotten furniture.

"Look! We're trying to be dark and sinister here and all this fracas simply isn't helping."

"Well it's not my fault Mister Let's Keep The Ship All Dark And Dangerous, You know we could be just as .. FGRAG! my knee! .. as menacing if we simply turned the damn lights on and... sorry! hand slipped, OW! I said I was sorry! ... and refered to each other by number or something. At least turn on the damn light so I can see where you are, Joe."


The darkness ebbed back as a dim light flicked on.

"Thank you."

"Oh, and you'll need to take this, too" Joe said.

"What is it? It looks like a locket or something."

"It was my mother's. That's her portrait on it."

"Uhm, Joe, why did you give me this? I don't really need it."

"Oh, it's the gratuitous cameo."

"WOULD YOU TWO CUT IT OUT!" The first voice boomed.

The dim light bobbed quickly back across the bridge, and darted above several black indicators. "Ah, right, they say..."

"Let me guess, they say that the Adonnis are there."

"Uhm, well, yes, but how did you know?"

"Because I'm looking at them on the viewscreen."

"Oh, whaddya know, so they are."

A sigh that could have set a thousand angry ships to sea leaked slowly from the owner of the first voice. "Set a course for Cleveland. We're going after them."

"Uh, yeah, right. Terry? Can I borrow that light back from you?"
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"TGC is less like a web serial and more like the Al Azif in bite-size form."
--~Steve-o
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Zaxor
Balpeen
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Joined: 09 Aug 2002
Posts: 90
Location: Williamsburg, VA

PostPosted: Wed Sep 25, 2002 3:03 pm    Post subject: Meanwhile, in Cleveland... Reply with quote

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

"This sucks," thought Gary. "I can't even get past this terrible opening line. If only that bastard Herring hadn't assigned us this project. How can anything good at all ever start with that? Maybe I'll just have to whack him."

He grinned evilly. "No, maybe I better stop watching 'The Sopranos' five times a week."

There was a knock at the door. "Oh good, the pizza guy is here. Providing the creative spark that so many geniuses have come to rely upon."

Gary walked into the living room. "Just a minute!", he yelled in the direction of the front door, as he headed over to the end table by the window to get his wallet. As he picked it up, he noticed that there was a puddle on the table, and the window was broken.

He quickly scanned the grounds outside the window. Nothing. He got the money out of his wallet, and headed over to the front door.

"Hey, did you se---"

His inquiry was cut short by a pizza box to the gut. The delivery boy followed him into the house and then there was blackness.

"Yeah, I'm in. He doesn't have a clue."
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