Agent Two

~SOUTHERN QUARTER OF LAS VEGAS, 00:23AM~

I hate heroes.

A gloved hand lifted the barrel of the rifle, slotted it into the handguard and twisted it until it clicked. The sound echoed around the abandoned skyscraper like the gunshot that was to follow. 

I hate how they give themselves airs, and pretend that they're the only ones who really know how to solve a problem. I hate how they're so concerned with looking like the 'good guys' that they don't pay attention to the people they trample over in the process. And I especially hate how, when anyone tries to point this out, they stick their heads in the sand and shut the criticism out, pretend it's not valid because of whatever stupid armchair philosophy they just made up.

A scope was slid into place on the top of the reciever, clicking into place just as the barrel had done. Then two support legs were taken out of the case, fastened to the underside and swung out. 

But I think what I hate most of all... is that they're selfish. They only focus on the problems that matter to them, not to anyone else. Oh, sure, they'll kill a dragon or foil a mad scientist, but what about the smaller stuff that goes on under their feet? The stuff with the drug lords and the robbery and all that? And then, just to rub it in, they do the dumbest, most illogical shit and dare to call it "honour" - no killing, no guns, no actually trying to stop the bad things happening again. That's why Batman is such an idiot - he cares more about himself than actually stopping that clown.

No ammunition. Just a bottle-shaped canister, of clear plastic, with some pale green liquid sloshing about within it. Damn, only half full. Whatever shots had to be made, they would need to count, or it would be a complete waste. The cap was yanked off with a sharp tug, and then the whole thing was screwed into the assembly with rapid haste. The scraping of plastic was a small cause for alarm, but nothing came to investigate.
  
The Promethians? Bunch of holier-than-thou jackasses can go fuck themselves. They did a horrible job last year, and where are they now, when it actually matters? That Kamen Rider kid's alright, but he talks like he's on a constant sugar high, so his usefulness is vague at best. Dunno what the deal with that Paper Mario thing is, and I don't wanna dwell on that or I'll get a headache. And why are half the Kobbers on vacation when there's still problems in this sick city, festering away like a tumor that the doctor won't cut out because he's drunk and also an asshole?

The weapon, now completed, was gently lifted upwards and swung around, and the support legs were placed upon the windowsill to stabalize the whole thing. A golden-brown eye peered through the scope, seeing the street below as thought it's owner was standing in the midle of it. Hips wiggled back and forth as legs shuffled apart, bracing the body for the inevitable kickback of the rifle, and arms gently swivelled the weapon's sights along the road. This had to be the meeting-place, those drunkards in the face-paint couldn't have been-

Gotcha.

There they were, in an alleyway so conspicuous they might as well have painted bullseyes on their bodies. About three or four regular Black Dragon thugs leant against the pickup, some disinterestedly smoking whilst the other half kept an eye on the proceedings a little to the right. Obviously, something had gone wrong with the deal - a fifth man, black haired and with the dumbest bronze armour ever, was waving a plastic packet and saying something inaudible to the whimpering, pale, baldy-headed junkie in front of him. The latter looked as though he didn't want to be here at all, and rightly so - something was glinting dangerously at the leader's hip.

A pearly grin split across a face hidden by the bandana.

I'm not a hero. Heroes don't sneak out at midnight, when they should be sleeping. Heroes don't commit acts of long-ranged murder behind the backs of their best friends. Heroes, unless they're in comic books, don't have to put on a face at daytime to hide the reality of what they've seen.

It was easy enough now - had been since childhood. Hold your breath to steady yourself, get the crosshairs pointing just so, curl your finger around that trigger...

And heroes especially don't jailbreak a child's weapon to be lethal.

And pull. 

PLUTT

Non-Canon Silliness Shorts 1: Spell 'Me' (NSFW)

"Hey, Ash."

Ash didn't turn around. "Yes?"

"Spell 'Me'."

End of the Rainbow

WARNING: The following post contains material that may not be suitable for minors or work-based viewing. Reader discretion is advised.

~MASTERS FOUNDATION ARENA, MANHATTAN, USA~

 

"MI-KA! MI-KA! MI-KA!"

The chanting from the crowd shook the building almost to it's foundations, ringing through the steely air of the stadium. Beaming hugely, the masked, blonde-pigtailed wrestler bounced up and down where she stood over her fallen foe, waving her arms above her head in acknowledgement of the waves of hype pouring down over her. Her heart swelled with every repetition of her name, an almost childlike joy flowing through her as she took in the adoration from every man, woman and kid in the audience who were chanting along.

Now this, she thought to herself, is what I live for.

Why Subnautica Is Good (Short Review)

Do you like Minecraft?

Do you absolutely hate the Water Temple?

Then you will have an estranged love-hate relationship with Subnautica.

Subnautica is a Survival/Crafting game from developer Unknown Worlds, creators of the Natural Selection series. The premise, like most other games of the genre, is simple - survive. Scrounge up raw materials from the world around you to build things you need to get by, like food, water, and tools. Eventually, you'll be able to craft more complex things, set up a base of operations and be able to fight back against the cold, uncaring world you've been plonked in. And right now, you're probably drifting away, convinced that this is yet another Minecraft ripoff and there's nothing interesting to it.

Subnautica, however, proves you wrong in many ways. Firstly, there's more context - you're the survivor of a crashed research ship, and you need to get yourself equipped to go and fix the ship's engine before the radiation kills everything. There's a goal to work towards, rather than just meandering around looking for sheep to shear. Secondly, you're underwater, with no solid ground to be found and only sheer crushing depth as a constant reminder of how shit you are. Only miles and miles of ocean, which adds a big sense of isolation and trepidation to the experience - no other people, just you on your own against this strange, alien planet.

Thirdly - and this is the clincher - it is utterly evil and has no qualms about sending sea monsters to bite your arse out whilst you're trying to scan some wreckage. And what makes it worse is that it probably came from a bullshit angle you didn't anticipate, because you're floating in the fucking ocean.

This is what Subnautica has over games like Minecraft - it plays on the primal fear of the unknown. There's little that's scarier than floating in the middle of the open ocean, surrounded on all sides by shadowy that could be hiding literally anything. And it doesn't matter where you twist and turn, the monsters will still be able to come up behind you - or maybe even beneath you, because there's no floor underneath your feet to stop them doing that. You think your tiny little submersible will keep you safe from the sharks and sea lizards, but when the roars of some terrible leviathan are ringing in your ears as you skirt the shoreline, it feels like a plastic bubble. How big is it? How many teeth? How fast? You don't know, and that fear is what gives exploring in Subnautica that major edge.

What makes it worse is that the environment doesn't help you at all, and you have no real way to protect yourself. In Minecraft, you are at least on the same Y co-ordinates as the enemy, and can craft any number of bullshit weapons to insta-kill the skeletons, making monsters a minor annoyance. Subnautica's aquatic terrain actively hampers your movement, so juking and jumping is not an option, especially when the creatures can swim much faster than you can. And all you have to defend yourself is a knife, which does fuck all against most of the armoured creatures in the world, and the Concussion Rifle doesn't give you reprieve from the swaming piranhas or blood-sucking worms. It feels a lot more like a fight for survival than exploring caves or digging holes.

So when you do build that extra-special thing you wanted, it makes it all the more worth it. It feels satisfying, because you had to dive into kelp forests swarming with angry lizards and fight off giant electric eels to get the materials you needed. You lost a lot of blood and nearly starved to get the raw goods, and when you finally craft it all together and get your seabase up and running, it's like you're sticking a giant middle finger up at the deep, dark ocean. Fuck you, ocean, I have a submersile and can make endless amounts of torpedoes to shred your evil monsters. Bring it on, baby, I can take whetever you got!

And then a sea serpent comes along and eats your sub. Because no, you can't take it.

In short, play Subnatica. There's been a big update that adds farming, which is awesome. It's on Early Access right now, but it's worth forking out the extra money to experience this. Go buy it. Now.

Latest Update

Hold onto your tentacles, ladies and gentlemen, because it's time for...

INKOPOLIS LUNCHTIME NEWS! With your hosts, Callie aaaaaaand Marie!

"Helloooo, everyone! Hope you're having a good afternoon, viewers - we've decided to take this programme to the Salt-Tea Cafe as we sit down for coffee!"

"Which is what we do every day, but whatever."

"And we start off with the biggest thing to start the Lunchtime news with - the latest in Hero Watch! And whilst most of these brave, selfless types that call themselves the Kobbers are rather elusive and hard to capture on film, our ink-redible team-"

"Oh, my Cod, you actually went there."

"-managed to do what no other news corporation has done until now! That's right - we've finally got exclusive footage of that brave, dashing, very-obviously-handsome-"

"Stick to the script, Callie, jeez."

"...WE GOT FOOTAGE OF OOO!"

"Yes, after actual weeks of trawling around with our hidden cameras, we managed to catch that mystery masked man in action. About time too, I say."

"And this, viewers, is what we saw!"

Rule of Three

~LAS VEGAS, AT ABOUT LUNCHTIME~

It wasn't even Kobber season yet, and already there was trouble in Las Vegas.

It all began when a cafe exploded. This is not what cafe's ought to do, especially in the middle of the lunch hour, and thus the wave of panic that swept across the area was quite justifiable. It wasn't just the cafe itself that was evacuated, mind - every soul close enough to the buiding took to their heels with screams of terror, trying to put as much distance between them and the source of the explosion as they could before things got any worse. Because, in a world where superhumans regularly tangled with monsters, crime lords and otherworldly horrors, things were definitely going to get worse.

And they did, in short order, as the gangly insect monster emerged from the smoking shell of what was once a nice place to eat.

"Bah! Boredom and inspid stagnation!" thundered the mantis-like creature as he scraped his hooked talons other each other. "I was told this would be a city of excitement, where heroes came out of the woodwork every year!" And with a growl of effort, he swiped his forearms through the air, sending slices of purple energy sailing forwards to cut deep into the pillars that upheld part of a nearby bank. In a trice, the stone columns fell apart, bringing most of the overhang above with them in a shower of dust and rubble, and more screams emenated from the terrified pedestrians as they ducked under tables and into shop hallways, trying to find shelter from this unnatural event.

Not that the monster seemed to care very much at all. In fact, as he left the area of the care and turned to walk down the street, he seemed to be much more occupied with something else. His orange eyes, narrowed in a permenant sneer of haughty distaste, seemed to scan the panicking crowds in the same manner a cat eyes up a mouse just before the pounce, as if seeking something or other among them. Evidently, he was not finding whatever it was he sought, as growls of frustation left his mandibles at every other pass, until finally he seemed to give up and come to a dead stop in the middle of the street, blades and carapace glinting ominously in the sunlight.

"Where are they, then?" growled the monster at last, adressing the crowd at large. "Where are the mighty Kobbers, who effortlessly destroy every evil that goes up against them? Are they all too scared to try and stand against the all-powerful, all-destroying Kamakiri Majuu?! Come on out, you miserable wretches, and I shall-"

He was interrupted by a distant noise. A noise that was strange for not only having no apparent source to explain itself, but for being the sort of noise one does not expect to hear anywhere in the world. A noise that had seemingly no meaning by itself, and left the civillians, who had before been cowering in terror of the monster attacking them, as confused as their assailant was. A noise that was getting louder, as if it was approaching at a rapid pace, and was growing closer by the second as the source drew towards the chaotic scene taking place in the streets of Las Vegas.

And the noise went:

HAWK! TIGER! GRASSHOPPER!

Non-Canon Silliness 3: Morons vs Wild

WARNING: The following is not canon, and is also based on a dumb internet video. Don't read it if you don't care for anything that has no impact on ZFRP in any way :P

Also, watch this video first to understand the context.

~SOMEWHERE ON SAM'S WORLD...~

With a grunt of effort, the hilt of the Grandius was brought squarely down upon the tent peg with a clack, driving it further down into the soil. The action was repeated once, twice, thrice more, abiet with some difficulty, as the wielder's shoulder seemed to have become stiff and painful to move. But Sam - for it was nobody else - persisted despite the complication, until at last the peg was as far in as it could go, and the rope tied around it was as taut as it could be. Now the tent looked like a tent, and not like a jumbled pile of sticks and canvas someone had carelessly thrown aside.

"And that," he muttered, "is that." Then he stood up, and winced as the pain shot through his shoulder again, forcing him to grasp it with his free hand. Closer inspection revealed that the material of his jacket was torn open, and a series of long, ugly scratches - the terrible full-stroke of some animal's claws - decorated the skin. In fact, Sam overall did not look in very good condition, with badly ripped clothing, several bites upon his limbs, more scratches along his torso and a fine coating of dried mud over everything else.

Turning around, Sam recoiled as he saw a vision of awful horror. Then he calmed down as he realized that it was just Ash, sitting down by a fire of whittled branches and leaves. If anything, he seemed to be in an even worse comdition than Sam was - not only was he also covered in bites, but one side of his face was a swollen mass of lumpy, purplish-red blotches, like insect bites or something worse. And, most tellingly, he was hissing between his teeth as he applied the scabbard of the poison-sword Magnificence to his groin, looking to be in considerable pain.

"You alright?" Sam asked as he walked over. "That amphisbaena did a real number on you." The latter remark, judging from the glare shot at him by the other male, didn't seem to help at all.

"It's not the pain," grumbled Ash as the other man squatted close to him. "It's the swelling. I can have Magnificence draw the venom out, no trouble, but... dear Gods, it won't go down!"

"You should be happy," cut in Erdrick's voice, from where he was propped up against one of the tent struts. "It's not like it's ever going to be this big again."