~THE PITBROS HOUSE, MANHATTAN~
"Aaaand... check."
"Alright!" whooped Dirk as he threw his last bag into the back of the car. "All set and ready!"
Pit nodded, smiling. Finally, everything was ready. After months of preparation, planning and... not getting too excited, everything was ready for their third big excursion. This time, the ZFS Corporation had settled down in Las Vegas, looking to branch out into big-budget hotels and nightlife entertainment on top of all it's over services, and the Pitbros. knew the other Kobbers would be right behind. It hadn't been hard to find the new King of Beasts - the combined hotel, lounge and casino resort had been advertised literally everywhere one could advertise such a thing. And where the King of Beasts went, the angels would go, naturally.
As Dirk headed round the car to add his computer back to the collection in the back seat, Pit looked up just in time to see Utsuho emerging from the house, her own small bag slung over one shoulder. The older brother had made sure to pack her suitcase in with the others in the trunk of the car, so the Hell Raven didn't have as much to bother carrying from the house.
"You ready?" grinned Pit.
"Yeah," responded Utsuho, holding up her own bag. "I've got everything!"
"Alright, hop in." And Pit opened the passenger door, allowing Utsuho to walk down and climb into the seat. Then, as Dirk found his own place in the back, Pit circumnavigated the car and clambered into the driver's seat, ensuring he was well-seated before shutting the door.
"You excited to go?" he asked as he buckled up. "I know Vegas isn't going to be like anything you've been to before, so hopefully you'll enjoy it!"
"Yep!" Utsuho seemed to positively radiate excitement. "I mean, I know you took me to Manhattan, but you said it's a lot different from Vegas, so I'm really wondering what it'll be like!"
"Yeah, I've never been, either!" A grin split Pit's face as he pulled out the Satnav. "This is gonna be a new experience for both of us!"
"Not to mention getting married, too!" Dirk shot back. "Hope you guys booked a decent venue - if they don't do shots, I'm out!" Pit just rolled his eyes at that - maybe asking Dirk to be the best man wasn't the brilliant idea it had seemed at the time.
Utsuho turned a little red. "Eheheh... yeah, I'm looking forward to that... Oh what are you planning on doing, Dirk?" she queried, turning around to face Dirk where he sat.
The dark angel shot her a lewd grin. "More like who," he chuckled.
"Dirk, please," groaned Pit, facepalming.
"But yeah, I'm meeting up with Jo once we get there," clarified the younger angel. "She's been itching to go for ages - wants to challenge all the casinos, I bet." He grinned, knowing that his girlfriend's love of money was one feature he was more than happy to support - especially in a place like Vegas.
"Huh, didn't expect that out of her..." Utsuho took the time to mull that one over, before brightening up. "Well, hopefully she'll do a good job of it!"
"Don't worry, I'll be behind her all the way."
"Of course you will." Unfazed completely by yet another of Dirk's puns, Pit finished typing in the adress, and then hit the ignition button. At once, the car roared into life, almost as eager to get going as it's occupants were, and the sound seemed to lend some life into the white-winged angel. He gripped the steering wheel with expectant fervour and turned to his riding companions, eyes shining with excitement. "
"Alright," he called out, "we ready for off?"
"Yep!" was Utsuho's response. "I'm ready whenever you guys are!"
"Then off we go!" And with that, Pit pulled the car out of the driveway, swung it around with practiced ease, and then set off with no small amount of tire squeal down the road that lead out of the neighborhood and, eventually, Manhattan.
"Cocaine and booze," crowed Dirk, "here we come!"
"Dirk, please."
-------
~THE LIGHT HOUSEHOLD~
It had been a rather lazy day at Chez Light, as Gary/Guts Man insisted on calling it. Even though plans had been drawn up for an upcoming holiday at Las Vegas (Doctor Light's treat to Beck for his actions on the ZFS last year), plans tend to be something of a non-issue when the fast-processing AI Cores of robots get involved. The result of this was that everyone had already preemptively packed their things, drawn up ideas of where they wanted to go and do and made sure all of their stuff was insured in case of accident. So there was little else to do but lounge around and wait for the day to come.
James Light, better known as Jewel Man, was spending that time by catching up on his gossip magazines. Even though he didn't truly consider himself a proper Kobber, which pretty much constituted a celebrity anyway, he liked to keep himself up-to-date with all the news and petty drama surrounding popular figures. On top of that, he was stuck for ideas of what to do in Vegas, since there didn't seem to be that much besides the shopping that appealed to him. So there he was, flicking through an issue of ZF on the couch as the sun streamed in and time ticked by idly, as if it were just passing through.
Then a headline caught his eye.
"Cornelius!" he called out, excitement lacing his voice like pink weave in a blanket. "Come and look at this!" That was pretty much all it took for Crash Man, former enemy of the famous Mega Man and now official member of the family, to come in from the kitchen where he'd been preparing lunch. It must have been something involving a lot of flour, because he was wearing a floral apron over his body. And if you never wanted the image of Crash Man in an apron ever, too bad!
"What is it, James?" asked Cornelius as he approached, stopping by one of the arm-rests of the sofa. By way of reply, James held up the magazine for his boyfriend to read, and the former Wilybot leaned over to get a better look at the news article printed within the pages:
"A special reminder to our loyal readers - Fornax Fashions is hosting a special show at Las Vegas this year, to celebrate the new movement of 'non-standard' models and sizes in the industry! Whilst a date has not been fixed, FF has promised it will definitely occur 'within the summer' and also trumpets the fact that their latest star, Lisa, will be the forefront of their campaign! Make sure to book your tickets online, because they're flying off the shelves!"
"Well!" A smirk passed over Crash's face as he looked back up at James. "Finally, something for you to look forward to!"
"Now I won't feel left out on this holiday," agreed James, closing the magazine and putting it back down on the sofa. "Beck will call me weird, as he usually does, but he's got a whole arcade and possibly a theme park to go to - he's literally spoiled for choice? Where is he, anyway?" he added, looking around the room.
"He's buffing himself with that new cleaning station Jonesy sent us," Crash clarified, adjusting his apron - a reminder that it's still there, folks. "He says he wants to look his best for when we arrive at Vegas, the little showoff." James stifled a giggle at this, enjoying the crack at what lingered Beck's cocky demeanor despite all the events of last year.
"And who knows?" added the brown-haired android, musing thoughtfully. "Maybe they'll show off something that I might look good in! I've been trying to find something other than this armor to wear, and it's been so hard finding something that fits, you know?"
Now the pink-haired robot did giggle, coquettishly. "I think you look good in anything~" he cooed, shifting around on the sofa to face his boyfriend and sprawling himself in a rather enticing manner on the couch. "But I'd love to imagine you wearing something as flattering as what they have on those shows. You'd beat out any of those actual models by a long shot!"
Cornelius grinned at the complement. "Oh, you~" he purred in response, dropping to his knees next to the amorous Lightbot. James let a similar lewd smile cross his face as he slung one arm around his lover, and the inevitable happened as, caught up in the moment, the two of them leaned in towards each other-
"AAAAAAAARGH!"
-and froze, faces a mere inch apart, as the scream of horror rent through the household. They stared at each other with eyes wide in surprise, which quickly dawned into shock as they realized just whom that voice belonged to and where it came from.
"That sounded like Beck!" cried Crash, confirming what was on both of their minds. Both he and Jewel quickly sprang apart, forgetting their romantic interlude for the sake of their nephew's well-being, and quickly dashed out into the hallway and up the stairs, intent on finding out the cause of the cry.
They burst into the bathroom just in time to witness Beck staggering out, accompanied by a cloud of whitish smoke that billowed everywhere. The boy looked as though he'd been dragged over a motorway by a speeding truck, coughing profusely and covered in scuff marks from where the buffers had been too vigorous with his body - probably the cause of the steam as friction took it's toll. Adding to that were several dents in the armor that the youngest Light usually wore, the origins of which were unknown as neither Jewel nor Crash could recall which implement could do such damage if left unchecked.
But that wasn't the worst of it. It was worth remembering that his armor had started as grey...
"Did you use this last, Uncle?!" howled a furious Beck, glaring at James as he emerged from the billowing cloud.
Cornelius blinked. "What the hell?!"
"Beck!" wailed James, theatrically clapping his hands to his face. "You've been... bleached!"
"Grandad's not gonna be happy," groaned Beck.
-------
~ZFS TRANSPORT SHUTTLE, APPROACHING EARTH AIRSPACE~
"This is your captain speaking, to announce that we will be arriving at Las Vegas Spaceport, in a day's time. This service will terminate at Las Vegas Spaceport. All passengers bound for Las Vegas must depart here. Please ensure that you have all of your personal belongings with you, and..."
Mr. Crank the golem wasn't paying attention to the tannoy, as fascinating as it was. He was staring out of the window, looking into the dark depths of space and the blue-and-green orb slowly approaching.
The concept of beauty was not one Mr. Crank was familiar with. His mind was literal and factual, taking in only the things that came together to produce something that worked, something that was real. Aesthetics were not something he contemplated often, being mostly subjective and unquantifiable. It wasn't that he had no imagination, it was simply because his mind, or what passed for one, wasn't given to imagining things. Where people saw a spectacle of the universe, he could only translate the colors in front of him as: rainforest, desert, ocean, tundra, city, savannah...
He stared out of the window some more. A janitor strolled by him, pushing a trolley that squeaked on one wheel.
Then he turned and slowly lumbered back down the corridor. His walk was calculated almost to a fault - if anyone had taken the time, they'd have found his feet were the exact same distance from his body on ever step. His arms swung and knees bent at precise degrees, and when he turned a corridor it was so mathematically perfect as to make Aristotle spit-take. And when he finally came to a stop at the door, the number of steps he had taken was almost certainly a prime number.
That was the kind of golem Mr. Crank was. Precise. Calculated.
The door was closed, and locked - the red tab under the door handle said enough. It had, in fact, been locked for a good four and a half hours, the cause of which only Mr. Crank knew. There was also a "DO NOT DISTURB" sign placed on the door handle, just in case nobody got the message the first time. Punctuating this subconscious barrier was a strange stench that seeped in from the room behind the door - an odor akin to ammonia mixed with sour milk and stale meat. It was fortunate none of the staff had passed by, or they would be raising several alarms at once.
Mr. Crank waited.
He did not wait long.
The lock clicked aside, the door swung open, and the figure stepped out. It was an awkward, wobbly step, like a baby learning to walk for the first time. Which was odd, because the person making those steps was at least the height and proportion of an athletic, young adult male - not the sort of person to make such hesitant motions unless they were extremely drunk or high on something. And, because it wasn't wearing any clothing at all, the fine sheen of foul-smelling, yellow-green slime was still visible on it's skin and plastering the blond hair to it's broad forehead.
"We Are Due To Arrive Soon, Miss Dime," rumbled Mr. Crank. He seemed completely unfazed by what was in front of him.
"Looks like I just made it, then," gasped Amanda Dime. Then she - he, came the hurried correction - blinked, surprised at how deep his voice had become. He took another step forward, curious, and overbalanced himself with a poorly-placed foot, nearly toppling to the ground with a yell of surprise. Thankfully, one of Mr. Crank's giant paw-like hands reached out just in time, catching the toppling figure before he even hit the ground, before slowly lifting him back upright again.
"Fuck," groaned Amanda as he regained his balance. "Been too long since I was a man. I've gotta learn it all over again."
Then, turning his head, he promptly caught sight of himself in the reflective glass of the window Mr. Crank had been looking out of a few moments earlier. A grin settled on his face as, with more confident steps, he sashayed over to the makeshift mirror, the golem following a short distance away in case of accident. But, wisely enough, he hung back just beyond the corner, as his master reached the window and began to eagerly admire his own reflection.
"Although..." he purred, "it has it's perks." Nice. Muscles in abundance, skin as smooth as marble and lively, energetic eyes that would make girls and boys alike weak at the knees. Not to mention how powerful he felt, strength coursing through him with every movement of his arms or legs. He'd thought up a winner this time - it had been hard enough keeping the mental picture through the process of cocooning himself in preparation to create it. But the long hours had paid off, and the Changeling had to hold back a crow of self-satisfied triumph as he ran a hand over his new abs.
He couldn't wait to put this through it's paces.
"I Fear There Is Little Time Left," came Crank's voice, cutting into his thoughts. "We Must Be Ready To Depart This Shuttle, Before Authorities Notice Us."
Amanda gave a cocky scoff in his new, masculine voice. "Please, Crank, the gits have had no idea we were here since this trip started! Why should they suddenly think to come looking for us now we're almost there? Besides, this was a spare room that nobody had booked out - it's not even theft if nobody fucking had it to begin with. It's more like... borrowing," He finished, turning around to admire his back half. This wasn't too bad, either - shoulder blades that could grind meat, a fighter's toned legs and-
Ooh~
"True," droned the massive lackey, "But Your Cocoon Will Be Evidence Enough. As Will The Smell And The Footprints."
"Eh, we'll be long gone by then." Giving his rear a last appreciative squeeze, the blond turned back to Mr. Crank and snapped his fingers - the sign that he was kicking a plan of his into gear. "Now, most important business - name. Caught some snippets of those 'movies' on that magic box thing in our room whilst I was changing, so that's an easy one. How does 'Sylvester Willis' sound?" The golem nodded his head in response, as slow and calculated as everything else he did.
"Next," the newly-crowned Sylvester continued, "clothes. As much as I want to parade this glorious body around, and ed' i'ear ar' elenea do I want to, we can't risk police coming down on us the minute we step off the ship. And getting arrested for a public indecency charge, whilst fun, is not how I want to start my career on this planet. So considering the kind of locale we're hitting up, we'll need some fancy togs if we want to look like we belong in... what did you say it was called?"
"Las Vegas."
"Right, that."
"I Suppose," rumbled Crank, "That Procuring Something From Lost And Found Would Be Unacceptable?"
Sylvester rolled his eyes. "Really, what are the chances of finding something good in there? And do I want to walk around that place looking like a fucking thrift store? No, we'll have to spend some cash on this one if we want to blend in with the Agaryulnaerea down there. Something to show of my abs, I'm thinking..."
Slowly and deliberately, Mr. Crank reached upwards towards his chest. Without the coat to obscure him, it was easy now to see what was going on - the metal fingers clasped a knob on his chest and twisted, resulting in a series of clicks as locks unfastened themselves from within. Then it was a simple matter of pulling the chest-plate open, and the metal titan could reach inside and procure the large sackcloth bag from within, rustling and clinking.
A grin split the changeling's face. "Perfect. Now, let's talk about forging passports..."
"As You Say, Mister Willis."
-------
In another part of the ship, somebody existed who could appreciate the planet for what it was.
Robin, otherwise known as the Tactician, gazed upon the approaching orb with a mixture of amazement and some trepidation. Finally, after almost a whole year of waiting... he was almost there. The planet where the Star People, who had saved his home world of Porphyrion twice over, came from! And it was unlike anything he'd imagined! Of course, it was a much smaller planet - he never really expected it to dwarf his own home in size, after all - but the glimpses of cities, the sprawling oceans, the landmasses... it was all so fascinating and new!
The silver-haired man glanced down at his books, which he was in the middle of packing. He knew that these were relics of a past life now - a life he could never really go back to. The Star People had changed him irrevocably, and with that change had come the desire to learn new things, things beyond what the textbooks of Orvance or Maladur could provide. There would be new technologies to admire, new cultures to sample, and ever more new things to learn and write down. It was just an extension of his search for knowledge, really, taking him to new places and faces just as it always did.
And yet... Robin couldn't help but feel some nervousness. There would be obstacles, no doubt - language barriers would need overcoming, societal and cultural norms must be figured out to avoid embarrassment. It would take some time to adjust to a different lifestyle, one that, from his initial research, seemed much more fast-paced than the comparatively slow, relaxed ways of living his former home had. On top of this, there would be dangers unlike any he'd face before - not large-scale ones, but the small and personal ones that could easily catch him unawares, and he must prepare himself for them.
To finish off... he couldn't help but feel a bit homesick.
In the end, though, Robin shook those thoughts from his head as he resumed his packing. There was no point worrying about it, when it came down to it. He would just have to tackle each issue as it came up, and he knew that he was already well-equipped for most of them. And for those that required more thought, he knew he could rely on those Star People he had befriended during his excursion to Orvance last year. They would provide answers in the event he could not find them, he was sure of it.
And if this planet turned out to be not for him... well, many of the Star People had their ways. He could always contact one of them to send him back to Orvance.
The last book - a fascinating tome about the prehistoric animals of Earth - was slotted into place, and the bag was finally clipped shut and secured. Swinging it onto his back, the silver-haired Tactician turned and began to walk, a lightness to his step as he ventured forth rom his room, pausing only to lock his door. But once that was accomplished, he was on his way again, down the corridor that lead from the living rooms and to the docking stations, where the people would disembark from the shuttle onto the space port.
There was a whole planet's worth of knowledge waiting for him.
-------
~SCOOPA KOOPA'S, LAS VEGAS~
"Faster, scale-brains, faster!They'll be here in a week!"
The dinosaur staff could never remember a time when Koopa was like this. Okay, so he was still throwing around insults and demands like a teenager in a temper tantrum, but that was the only anchor of normalcy they had right now. Because instead of stomping around irritably, looking for things to chuck at he employees, he was actually running - running! - around the kitchen, sometimes hopping up and down on his toes as he peered into fryers and over shoulders. He was in the wildest excitement, that much was obvious - although wherever it was nerves or anticipation was up for debate.
"That's it!" hollered the former king. "More sandwiches, more fries, more everything! We got some big orders to fill, and I mean big!" He was literally dancing across the floor now, ignorant of whatever mishap might occur if he were to slip or trip now. He was a big fellow, after all, and the kitchen isles were barely big enough for him and one other worker.
"Um, sir?" One of the dinos had finally found the courage to speak up. "Why all the rush? The Kobbers haven't even landed here yet, and we're probably wasting food by doing this."
Koopa rounded on the speaker, but his face bore a grin instead of a scowl. "Simple, my empty-headed employee! We cook up all this food just in time for those do-gooders to show up! Then we lure them in with the promise of a discount and reap the benefits as they stuff themselves! All those repeat orders, double-orders and meal deals..." he chuckled deviously. "I'll be rolling in easy money!"
The Rex couldn't help but roll his eyes. There were times, he knew, when Koopa could come up with a more sneaky, underhanded scheme than simply force-feeding people. Times when he'd wave a magic wand and turn rebellious princes into poodles, or create hypnotic television sets to trick people into doing his bidding. Those were good times, apparently, from the way his boss talked about them. But he wasn't a King anymore, and you couldn't get away with that kind of thing when you were stuck behind the counter of a joint like this...
"So what makes you think they'll want to come here?" he asked.
"Because, dweebasaurus." Koopa retorted with a snort, "those Kobbers have some kinda addiction to food. Have you seen that mage family that's on TV?! It's like they do nothin' but eat! And if there's food to be had, especially greasy and unhealthy stuff like mine, then of course they'll go right to it!" The Rex had to nod, agreeing with is point - he'd seen the family he was speaking of on television as well.
"Also," Koopa added, "I got Jim to send flyers around to all the hotels in the area. Those dumb clucks will find out about us, sooner or later, and then..." Another cackle left Koopa as he turned away, rubbing his meaty paws with glee. "I'll koop them all out of their cash before they even set foot in a casino! Who needs gambling when you got greasy grub to chow down on?"
"...so basically," the Rex surmised, "this is just a spiteful way of ticking off every casino owner in this part of Vegas."
"And it's great!" A foul belly-laugh ecohed round the kitchen as Koopa reveled in his latest harebrained scheme, although smaller in scale than many of his grand plots before. He turned around, still laughing and then came to an abrupt and awkward stop as he noticed his workers. They had all stopped working and were staring in his direction, amazed at his sudden jovial mood - a rarity in their boss to begin with, and all the stranger for turning up when it did.
"What are you lot staring at?" bellowed the former Darklands ruler, suddenly himself again. "Back to work, you lazy lizards!" Everyone jumped to it at once, and wisely kept their heads down to avoid further reprisal as he stomped away to his office. Nobody wanted to be the one who interrupted any of Koopa's good moods - that never ended well, ever. And with the deadline for getting all of this food ready so close, they couldn't afford to botch it.
The Rex who had spoken to Koopa earlier watched him leave. Then she shrugged and got back to what he was doing.
Namely, printing more flyers.
Celebrate the Kobbers with
KING SCOOPA KOOPA'S!
25% off* all meal deals and double-orders if you with them!
PLUS: FREE Egg Scoopa Koopa with any order over $9.99!
*Actual percentage my vary depending on the size of your wallet.
-------
"We're going where?!"
Mickey's eyes glinted with obvious glee as he threw his bag into the back of the car. "You heard, man! Las Vegas, the City of Lights and-"
"Okay, um, first of all," interrupted Stephen, "that's Paris. And second," he continued, now barely able to contain the shriek in his voice, "you want to drag me, a Wendigo, to Vegas?! One of the most populated areas in the entire known world?!"
"Dude," groaned the brunet, rolling his eyes. "You seriously need this. It's the end of the university year and you've been cooped up in your room for almost all the semester. And your uncle gave you permission, didn't he? You need to get out there and enjoy yourself, and quit worrying about the whole 'cannibal spirit' deal you've got going on!"
Stephen frantically racked his brains for a retort to that one. There were so many things wrong with this course of action that he would probably run out of paper listing all of them - the abundance of people was the major factor. It had been a while since he'd properly had any... cravings, so to speak, so putting him a city full of people binging on alcohol and cheap food was basically lighting the blue touch paper and running away. Then his friends would insist on hitting the casinos, and no doubt drinks would be getting passed around like they were pringles, and-
His train of thought was interrupted when Lei stuck her head out of the car. She, too, was grinning like an idiot - Stephen wondered if it was contagious.
"Ready to go?" she yelled.
"You know it!" Mickey hollered back. Stephen tried to make frantic signs that no, he was not, this was a bad idea, but nobody paid any attention to him - as usual. Instead, the fey next to him grabbed hold of one of his skinny wrists and yanked him round the side of the car. And before the blond had any time to get his head together, he was hunched up in the back of Lei's car, which was far too small for somebody as tall as he was, and wishing he'd stayed in bed this morning.
Neither of his companions paid much attention to him. In fact, they were already flicking through the map and picking out a music CD to play over the stereo as the car pulled out of the driveway. Stephen wondered just how he ended up with friends like these - a fey who seemed to subsist entirely on alcohol and drugs, and a Zhu Bajie who got into punch-ups with everyone else. Either he was better at socializing than he originally thought, or the universe was playing some kind of joke on him by lumbering him with a pair of extroverts.
"Man, this is gonna be great!" Mickey was saying as he slipped the CD in. "Gonna stay up late, seeing the sights and living the high life! The casinos, the food..."
"Don't forget the Kobbers!" Lei cut in, excitement lacing her words. "They're gonna be there, too - I saw it on all the posters and ads!"
The Kobbers.
Stephen's blood turned to ice.
The people who hunt down monsters and demons.
"Fuck yeah, that's awesome! Hey, d'you think I could get an autograph from Jonesy?"
"More likely she'll burn your face off! That, or Sine'll throw you in a pocket dimension, or David will shatter your atoms, or..."
Ohgodohgodohgodohgod
Mickey laughed, brushing some of his hair aside. "Man, when you think about it... pissing one of those guys off has to be a bad move! They've got so many ways to kill you, it's not even funny!
"Yes, and neither are you. So behave yourself - no groping, pixie dust or puking on people's shoes!"
"Jeez, you're not gonna let that die, are you? That Naiad was literally begging for-"
A scream cut into their thoughts, making Lei brake suddenly. When the both of them turned around, it was to find Stephen curled up on the sheets, shaking and wide-eyed.
Mickey grinned. "Excited, huh? I know the feeling!"
ZOOFIGHTS RP SEASON 5... BEGIN
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