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Discussion in 'Archive' started by Bretimus_v2, Apr 14, 2012.
Oops sorry. I'll-ask-ya later!
.... that was pretty good.
It's clear Wicked needs my help with this right?
Call Dan for Grade A Alaskan zingers before calling Used
BLEEP-BLEEP, BLEEP-BLEEP! "This is Daniel Bischoff, the Voice of the Revolution. Down with the La li le Lu lo! Dammit, that's annoying." "Hey, Dan, I'm in a bit of a bit of a pickle. I'm at Shadow Moses," Wicked started, "I'm calling because I need your help." "Naturally," Dan smugly replied, "you should know...I know 10 ways to kill a man." "Do tell." Dan was quiet for a moment, as if he was preparing to unload secrets from the depth of his soul. "I wasn't always a video game journalist, you know...I've seen things. You can kill a man with a bullet, or a knife, even a rock...if it comes down to it. You can poke him with a rusty piece of metal and hope his tetanus shot isn't up to date." "Umm..." "You can hit him with a car or provide him with a diet high in cholesterol and hope that he has a family history with high chances of congestive heart failure...ooh! You can give home lots of soda and maybe he'll get diabetes...or kidneys tones!"You now...this wasn't that helpful. Do you think you could just give me Used's frequency and maybe some good zingers?" Dan was silent for a moment, "sure." He sent a couple to Wicked's com device, "I'll-Ask-Ya how it went later. Best of luck."
Wicked dialed again. BLEEP-BLEEP, BLEEP-BLEEP! "Hey, Wicked, sorry I didn't pick up on the first bleep. Neighbor's polar bear took a crap on my lawn." "Ha, good one...oh, you're serious. Well, the thing is, Used. I'm in your neck of the woods...or as Dan would put it...glacier, and I need a little help." "Seriously? The Alaska thing is getting old. But sure, I can send you some survival tips," Used said. "Could you warm them up first," Wicked asked, "because...
"Hilarious," Used dead-panned, "do you want my help or not?" Wicked stopped chuckling, "I need it dearly. It's just too bad, I'm not an Alaskan like you..." "Why's that," Used asked. "Because if I was, maybe I could call in Sarah Palin to help gun down bad guys like wolves from a helicopter. You don't happen to have her frequen..." Used hung up. Wicked checked his com device. All Used had sent over was a couple of Final Fantasy Tactics battle options. "I don't see how these will help, it's not even the same genre. Enough cha tin', on to Vulcan.
Team up with Snake
Do it alone
"Hilarious." is my new catch-phrase.
Do it alone.
Do it alone
Wicked checked his stash. He had the radio, an assault rifle, and a fair portion of grenades in a variety of types. That should be enough. As he emerged into the cold Alaskan wind, he saw the tank. He'd never seen one in person. It was huge. BLEEP, BLEEP! "Move, jackass!" The voice broke his trance and he dove to the ground, just as the cannon fired. The earth behind him exploded! Sharp stings lanced through his back as pieces of rubble embedded in his poorly protected back. His ears were ringing, and he felt like vomitting. "Move! He has more than one mortal shell." Wicked was frozen, both literally and physically...I mean, he was lying in the Snow wearing a bathrobe and gym shorts. He had had blue balls before but they never actually turned blue from frostbite. "How do I even begin to fight that," he questioned the mystery voice. "How am I supposed to know? All I know is that Raven has you in his sights again." Wicked rolled, it wasn't a John Woo-style roll, it wasn't even a third-grade PE class roll, this roll was about survival and getting he he'll out of the way before he could be labeled a liquid. He came to a stop behind a small outcrop of rock. It was time to do something...anything.
Run in guns blazing
Belly crawl and hope you don't get hit
Use some Tactics
Use some "Tactics" that you learned from your special Alaskan buddy...
Yes... fantasy "tactics" of the final kind.
Tactical belly crawl.
Wicked pulled up the list on his com device and without looking, chose the first tactic on the list. He heard the distinctive BWEEP and white words in a blue box appeared above his head. STONE. "NO!" Against his own will Wicked bent to the ground and picked up a rock. He hurled with the quick efficiency of a pixellated Ramza. PING! A white four appeared above the tank. "4! 4 damage? The next one had better deal more," Wicked complained. But as he paid more attention this time, he saw the next tactic on the list. GO F*** YOURSELF. I guess Dan and he had crossed some line in their teasing. And with that moment of realization, came the moment of impact. The shell hit Wicked and he exploded into a gory, red Rorschach blot in the snow. "The Raven feasts on the blood of my enemies tonight," Vulcan cried from up range.
Listen well, true believers, for there is a moral to this tale. First, never mix genres. Second, Internet bullying is a real problem that affects the lives of thousands of children every day. Have a heart and don't take part.
Also, third, never trust a spurned Alaskan...they're cut throat.
Well, seems like Wicked can't get any break today.
Oh, man, I totally didn't even think about that!