War is Hell...if Hell is the line at the DMV...

Unidentified Star System, 1200 hours...

Rebecca listened idly at the announcement that a flight of Mandalorian stealth-equipped fighters had launched from their carrier at roughly the time she had scheduled them to launch, barely registered the announcement that they would be sending back telemetry data to the ships of her fleet, and almost nodded off when her ship's computer reported that missile tubes were being loaded and would be ready to fire when a solid lock was achieved.


"Count on machines to manage to something as exciting as launching a missile so damn boring," she thought to herself, stifling a yawn.

She'd need to issue a few orders personally in a few minutes, but after that there was nothing to do but wait. After her ships had tracked a squadron of Decepticons back to a hidden base, she'd flinched at the sight of the thick asteroid belt. She didn't know how her robotic foes were getting their corvette-sized Sentinel ships through that rock field, but only the J-Ark and her fighters were nimble enough to actually maneuver through without getting pulverized and no way in Hell was she sending unsupported fighters in there.

And so she'd decided on a less risky/more lengthy method of bombarding the enemy base with bunker buster missiles. The only problem was that missiles were too dumb to maneuver through the asteroid field as well. Hence sending out squadrons of fighters with as much stealth and sensor equipment as could be scrapped up, meticulously scanning the asteroid field while the combined processing power of three Mandalorian cruisers tried to forecast the trajectories of a few million...nay...billion tons of rock.

Not to mention there had to be an equal number of ships on the lookout for hostile reinforcements, ships scrambling to bring as many missiles from a supply depot as possible, and a hundred other difficult-to-coordinate tasks, none of which actually required her direct input.

And so Rebecca waited. She tried watching a movie, reading some books she'd downloaded from Gloria's library, and even took a moment to perform a few backlogged repairs aboard J-Ark. That damn water heater would face her wrath. For a moment, she WAS needed and she ran back to her bridge covered in grease.

"Sighted Decepticon freighter, sank same," came back a report from a Crusader gunship.

"Confirm it and get back to me," Rebecca ordered, stifling a yawn until the connection was cut.

Indeed, there was very little for her to do at the moment and, to her later chagrin, she actually nodded off. Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice as a quick alarm jolted her awake.

"Trajectories plotted," one of her calculator cruisers reported.

"All ships, five second laser barrage on target coordinates, then do a wide-field tractor beam sweep followed by a full missile barrage. Fire until dry, then begin reloading," Rebecca ordered.

It was very precise. Her people WERE professionals. She watched as cannons fired, bits of rock were quickly emptied from one cone of space, and thousands of missiles were fired into the gap, with slighly more than half of them actually getting through to the base - better than projected. The principle asteroid determined to be the Decepticon space station began breaking apart, spewing metal into space as robotic warriors attempted to escape. Rebecca's fleet fired again, though she ordered nobody to pursue them further into the field; she'd settle for shattering one of their supply lines if it meant a minimum of casualties on her side. Her comm channel suddenly erupted in Mandalorian battle cries; apparently some of the hostile Decepticons had chose to try running right through her fleet despite her current bombardment.

A chorus of "Oya" and "Kandosii" rang out; hostiles eliminated. There were be songs sung tonight, some tales embellished, and a few more comrades to remember each night.

"Attention all hands," Rebecca said, activating a fleet-wide channel. "Mission accomplished. Stand down to yellow alert and prepare to move on to our next destination."

Rebecca flipped the channel off as the cheers renewed; she wanted nothing more than to share in their enthusiasm, to yearn for the glories of more battles, but she needed to focus. As much as she wanted to chase down Decepticons all day e'ery day, to be back with Vina on Earth, there was too much at stake to be so reckless.

That didn't mean she couldn't still share in the celebrating though. She quickly donned her armor and dashed to her personal fighter.

"Netra'gal with Clan Lok or Tihaar with Clan Tenau? So much drinking, so little time..."

President Evil

West Wing Lobby, White House

Labrys took one more look in the mirror, adjusting her currently-blond hair, her designer makeup, her professionally-tailored skirt. Anything to make sure her disguise was still in place. It was a huge pain to put on actual makeup, actual clothing, and even dying her artificial hair blonde to fit in with her "Larissa Joyce" identity, but she knew her preferred holograms wouldn't work here. Not in the White House.

The friggin' White House.

Ever since she'd created the fictional Corner Consortium and moved to Washington DC after the annual Kobber Split, she'd been working hard to find other ways to change the world without having to resort to Joyce Jr.'s ideas of armed insurrections and Kobber Takeover of the government. She'd been successful thus far, through diplomacy, money, and - from time to time - blackmail. She did what she could to foster change without outright breaking the law. Sure, she'd used her abilities as a digital intelligence to sneak into computer systems, but only when other methods had failed.

It had also been the only way to get an appointment to meet with the president to discuss some of his recent policy decisions. She hoped the Make America Livable Party didn't mind having their appointment mysteriously eaten by the aether or wherever deleted scheduled items went when you hacked into the White House computers and replaced one meeting with another.

Ever since she'd confirmed that appointment, she'd worked furiously to prepare. She'd only managed to secure five minutes with President Michael Wilson and she was determined to make the most of it. She'd even worked in her "sleep", the time she spent in her maintenance chair recharging and receiving repairs, on how the meeting should go. Now she say in the West Wing Lobby making sure everything was perfect: she adjusted her disguise with her body and practiced her speech in a digital Oval Office in her mind. She finally felt ready as an orderly instructed her to follow him to the president.

Michael Wilson, a man who secured national fame by leading the armed forces against a military insurrection several years ago alongside his vice-president Richard Hawk, was known to be passionate, energetic, and direct. A man who appreciated straight talk and directly confronting issues over backroom deals and double-talk.

"Good morning, Miss Joyce. How are you this morning?" the president asked as an aide seated Labrys.

"Oi'm doin' jist gran', sir. 'tis an 'onor ter meet witcha," 'Larissa' answered.

"So what can the White House do for you?" Michael Wilson asked with maybe a touch of weariness, as if anticipating more partisan dealings or lobbyist meddling.

"Tanks for meetin' wi' me, sir. Ah've cum ter yer ter explain de corner consortium's growin' concerns over de condishun av several key american 'ighways an' freeways. dees strategic roads clap a combined eighty...do yer 'ear somethin'?"

Labrys' advanced hearing could barely hear the incoming attack moments before they struck. The windows behind the president's desk shattered as three slender figures JUMPED into the room. Labrys managed to duck behind the desk and the president had quick enough reflexes to avoid being shredded as well, but the attackers ignored them, first rushing out into the hall to disable the guards stationed right outside. The president began shouting for guards and hit a button, but Labrys lay there unmoving. For one thing, Larissa Joyce wouldn't be expected to get up and fight assassins; she'd have to wait until nobody was watching or she had no choice otherwise. Another thing though shocked her into further inaction: all three attackers looked almost identical to her. They didn't even pretend to wear clothing and their eyes were a lifeless shade of grey, but they moved just like her and carried axes just like hers, which coincidentally was back at her apartment.

Gunshots rang from the hallway, but none of the robots sounded stopped. One popped back into the Oval Office - presumably to actually murder the president - but it quickly fell to the ground as the sound of a huge automatic weapon rang across the room. The other two robots jumped back in to investigate but they were cut down as well. Curiosity overrode shock in Labrys' system and she peeked over the desk. In the president's place stood a massive blue robot: the president's personal power armor, Metal Wolf.

"I apologize, Miss Joyce. It looks like I'm going to have to cancel our meeting. The guards will need a statement from you I'm sure, but I'll get someone to escort you home."

Metal Wolf looked around the office, picking up one of the ruined robots. If she could have, Labrys would have gulped nervously. Someone was stealing her image and just used it to try murdering the leader of the United States of America.

She just might have to get out of town.

By Popular Demand...

zook is (not) alive

The Adventures of Fleet Admiral Sarah: A Busy Mage

 This blogpost requires some familiarity with  The Adventures of Captain Sarah STO playthrough I've been posting on Youtube. At the very least, you may want to watch the three parts of The End of the World, detailing the final mission of Star Trek Online's The Iconian War storyline.

Part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DfQ-Li5QBs

Part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUSKxcMVZtk

Part 3: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P9Ik5gGoJaY

~

Observation Deck, USS Tenshi, Earth Orbit - Approximately 36hours after the Iconian War's end

For the first time since the war had unofficially come to an end, Fleet Admiral Sarah Triden could finally relax. Even though hostilities had ended, ships on both sides of the conflict had immediately engaged in frenzied search-and-rescue operations, sending medical responders and damage control teams to any ship that showed signs of life and signs of catastrophic failure. She had even, after informing Admiral Quinn of the Iconians' peace terms, hustled onto a shuttle and visited several ships. For the biggest moment in galactic peace, the pace sure felt like they were still at war.

But the war had indeed ended. Saying it had been won would imply anything but a miracle had convinced the Iconians to end their attacks. Even as things stood, a significant portion of the Iconian fleet - T'ket and her Heralds - had left Earth orbit for parts unknown to prepare for future battles with the Alliance. But the other Iconians - once Admiral Quinn of Starfleet, Chancellor J'm'pok of the Klingon Empire, and Representative D'Tan of the Romulan Republic had agreed to their terms - were willing to pick up the pieces of their fleet and return to Iconia to begin rebuilding their culture, thanks to the World Heart, the artifact Sarah and her allies had rescued 200,000 years ago.

Sarah chuckled. A war fought 200,000 years ago had seemed like just yesterday because, to her, it had been. Now that the worst of the immediate recovery operations had been taken care of though, she could stop for an hour to simply watch things happen. The Iconians had finished their own recovery and would shortly leave the Sol System. Under the watchful gaze of the Iconian L'Miren's massive dreadnought, the surviving Heralds and other servitor ships began passing through massive gateways that would take them back to Iconia.

When the dreadnought itself finally passed through the portal, every member of the Alliance - Starfleet, Klingon, and Romulan alike - let out a collective sigh of relief. With luck, no Iconian or Herald would be seen for a thousand years.

"Pretty impressive sight, all those ships leaving at once."

Sarah turned to see her tactical officer and older sister Commander Josephine enter the observation deck with a green glass bottle and two drinking glasses.

"There's nothing in that bottle that violates regulations, right?" Sarah asked, smiling.

"I dunno. Are we on a Klingon ship?" Josephine asked, popping open the bottle of wine. "It's...regulation-ish."

Sarah shrugged and accepted a glass from her sister, enjoying the sweet aroma before taking a sip.

"So what's next for us?" Josephine asked, taking a seat.

"Us? You mean me?" Sarah asked. "We're the Others now, Sis; you could get a new position anywhere in the fleet. Could even get your own command if you wanted."

"Yeah, but we're a team! You don't just split up teams!" Josephine protested. "Even if I COULD get a cushy patrol near Romulan space, swing by once in a while to 'resupply', and visit that Subcommander I met on shore leave..."

"It won't work out," a third voice said, that of first officer/younger sister Ariel. "He's got that straight-laced brother that won't abide fraternization."

"Hope you brought your own glass, Ariel," Josephine remarked.

She had, accepting a drink from her sister as she found a seat next to Sarah.

"Anywhere in the fleet I want, eh?" Ariel asked. "Do I get a promotion too? There's a few planets I'd love to clean up, but they don't listen to what commanders want."

"Sure thing. You can be Fleet Janitor of the Galaxy," Sarah answered solemnly. "With a broom made with the finest Iconian technology we can find."

The three laughed, letting out what seemed like a lifetime of tension, stress, and fatigued born from fighting a constant stream of wars against the Undine, the Vaadwaur, and finally the Iconians. It'd been ages since they could stop to drink and chat without the specter of war pushing in on their fun.

"I think I'll stick with you though, if that's alright, Sarah," Ariel admitted. "If I'm getting a command, I want it based on what I do on purpose, not what we somehow stumble into 200,000 years ago."

"Oh thank goodness," Sarah sighed. "Lack of transfer permitted. I'm starting to get tired of doing all those away missions."

"But they do you so much good," Josephine teased. "You get out, run about, and get to earn your root beer floats!"

"And for that matter, we're still not installing a replicator on the bridge."

The three sisters looked up as their other sister, head engineer and oldest sister Gloria, entered the observation deck. Carrying a glass of her own, they all noted.

"What do you mean, we?" Sarah asked again. "Last I heard, you were going to take a command of your own, cash in on being an Other."

"Nah. It was going to be the Carol and she can't take the irony of getting one of your hand-me-downs for once," Ariel joked.

Even Gloria laughed at that one. "I'd considered it, but there's an even greater responsibility for me here: keeping you three out of trouble. You blew up Planet Killers, dreadnoughts, and fleets WITH me here. What kind of trouble would happen WITHOUT me?"

"More of the fun kind," Jokesephined as she fist-bumped Ariel.

And so the four sat for a quiet moment, drinking wine and watching starships fly by. Sarah tutted as she watched several ships crawl along the hull of Earth Spacedock.

"Shame what happened to ESD. Mom had just finished patching it up too," she noted, leaning back.

The other sisters silently agreed. Many had been the time they had docked at Spacedock to receive promotions and a new vessel, staying long enough to celebrate at Club 47, leaving the next morning for some new assignment on the frontiers of space.

"So what ARE we doing now?" Ariel finally asked.

At once, Josephine, Ariel, and Gloria turned to Sarah, looking like they were expecting orders in the heat of battle. Sarah looked back, straightening her uniform robe as she stood up. It made sense, she supposed. Off-duty like this and with such a life-changing decision on hand, Sarah thought for a moment that Gloria would lead the discussion as she had when they were children. But while Gloria had been the de facto leader of the sisters while they were growing up, ever since Sarah had taken command of the Shelby after the Borg attack on Vega, she'd taken over that role with Starfleet approval.

Now, they looked to their captain and their sister for guidance.

"A great captain once asked his first officer 'Remember when we were explorers?'" Sarah said, beginning to pace around the observation deck. "Well, I think we need to get back to that. The four of us and the entire crew of the Tenshi have been all across the galaxy, fighting evil at every turn. Well, now I say it's time to get back to Starfleet's original mission: exploration and knowledge."

Sarah walked over to a large viewport and motioned at a pair of Romulan escorts towing a Klingon cruiser.

"Our actions have had amazing results. We're back at peace with the Klingons and at peace with the biggest Romulan faction in the galaxy. We've protected billions of lives and brought peace to distant corners of space! The wars are over; now we can get back to peace.

To that end, I've requested a transfer from the Tenshi."

That last statement brought surprise to her sisters' faces, but Sarah continued.

"We've had a good run with the Tenshi; it's survived more scrapes than her builders imagined she would. She's a vessel of war though, a carrier designed to bring maximum firepower and destroy the enemy.  We're without an enemy though. When the war with the Vaadwaur was beginning, Starfleet was already in the process of building a new class of science vessels based on a Delta Quadrant design. I've already requested command of one of the new ships and it's been granted to me. It's only got a serial number right now, NX-106716, but I get the naming rights. The new ship won't be as big as the Tenshi and it won't have nearly as much firepower, but that's okay. The old girl is already being reassigned to patrolling the Dyson Spheres; she's not retiring any time soon, just taking it easy until we need her again."

Sarah sat back down and took a sip of her wine.

"Knowing this, you're all still welcome to request transfers. Maybe one of you can have the Tenshi and go busting around the Dyson Spheres."

It took less than a moment for Josephine, Ariel, and Gloria to look at each other and nod.

"Nah."

"We're in."

"Sounds fascinating."

Sarah nodded. "Then start suggesting names for OUR new starship. Now that we're not pouring all our resources into fighting ships, they'll have it ready in weeks. I mean, it WAS going to take a month, but being the Other has its perks and..."

Suddenly, another new voice interrupted.

"This is the last new voice in this blogpost or I'm walking," Ariel muttered.

"Bridge ter Admiral Sarah. We've got two shuttles on approach and boff are requestin' dockin' clearance. The passengers are boff askin' ter meet wiv yer at yor earliest convenience too."

Sarah shrugged. It had been a nice reprieve from duty and it was good to know she had her sisters backing her up, but it was time to get back to work, she supposed. "Who are they?"

"One's a shuttle from the Starfleet Corps of Engineers, Admiral Celestia pilotin', and the uvver is from the USS Excalibur bearin' a Chief Petty Officer Alex...didn't give a last name."

Sarah suddenly let out a very un-officerly squeal of glee and rushed off for the shuttle bay. Ariel sighed, Josephine chuckled, and Gloria activated her combadge.

"Bridge, this is Commander Gloria. Grant both shuttles permission to dock, but Commanders Josephine, Ariel, and I will be meeting with the Admiral. The CPO is...ah...a priority guest of Admiral Sarah's."

"Affirmative, Commander. Bridge out."

The three sisters still in the observation shared a laugh as Sarah's footsteps faded. Whatever was in the past and whatever the future may hold, they were still together, continuing a tradition of boldly going where no being had gone before.

The Home Guard

Masaki Shrine, Okayama, Japan

At 7 AM, a woman and her daughter ran around a lake. Behind them were dragons, serpents, and a golem. It was a peculiar sight in most places...or would have been if anyone else were around. The sun rose and the chase continued. The woman shouted: encouragements, curses, promises, and threats. Of all the myriad beings involved in this affair, only she was used to doing it every day. It wasn't until they'd all moved to the region that she'd begun rousing them all for the chase.


"COME ON, YOU SLUGS!" Vina Sealander shouted, running backwards for a moment to watch her Pokemon.

A Zweilous, a Gabite, a Fraxure, a Dragonaire, a Gyarados, a Golurk, a Noivern, a recently-purified Arbok, and a Juraian girl all looked up from their impromptu rest break to keep running after their cruel mistress who insisted they train now that their other mistress, Rebecca, was off in space. Only Bruticus the Golurk failed to look winded and that was likely because nobody was sure if he even could be winded. The ambiguously-alive construct-like Pokemon simply stood in place before running again.

"Are you kidding me?!" Vina called out from a distance. "I'm an old lady! None of you should have trouble keeping up with me!"

The eight Pokemon and the girl looked at each other and nodded.

Then took off running.

"That's more like it!" Vina cheered, laughing as they all passed by. "Final stretch, buckos, then breakfast!"

It had been a few months since the Kobbers had scattered to the four winds and Rebecca had gone to space to battle the rampaging Decepticon armada. Vina, Sasami, and the Sealander Squad had stayed in Vegas for a time, leaving only once all of Yagren's Pokemon victims had been purified and adopted, save for Jorge the Arbok, who had elected to join the Squad, and Alakawhat, who preferred being a Lovecraftian demon who enjoyed exploring the other dimensions with his mind while sipping lemonade.

Alakawhat had also decided not to join the exercising.

Since then, they had moved their starship, the Royal Pain, to a remote rural area in Japan where Sasami's sister was living with a distant relation of some sort. Vina didn't understand the situation completely, especially when it also involved the relation's grandson and five other woman pining for him and...well, there were politics involved that'd threatened to engulf her until she'd shown off her wedding ring.

The morning was off to a good start though. Vina had gotten the rest of her workout done before the run and would make the Squad breakfast once they got home, followed by instructing Sasami in physics and history and...

And the house was on fire. Fortunately, the Royal Pain had been parked AWAY from there.

"I swear, this had better be an alien invasion and not..." Vina muttered.

"I SAW THE WAY YOU LOOKED AT TENCHI!" a voice shrieked. "THAT LEVEL OF LEWDNESS IS DEMEANING TO A MAN OF HIS STATURE!"

"Lighten up, Princess! Like you wouldn't look at him that way if nobody were watching!" another voice taunted back.

Vina sighed. It was, in fact, Princess Ayeka and an alien space pirate named Ryoko fighting over some imagined slight or more posturing for that boy Tenchi's affections.

"I shouldn't do this, but then they'd want to bunk on the ship," Vina groaned. "Iku, go douse the flames, then we do breakfast."

The Gyarados complied, spraying the house - and the two quarreling women - with her Hydro Pump as the rest of the squad settled in for breakfast. For a brief moment, long enough to bring a pang of longing to her heart, Vina wondered if Rebecca didn't in fact have the safer job at the moment. She shrugged the thought away, serving up sausage and eggs.

She briefly considered doing something about the quarrel, but chose instead to sit down and eat. Then she got a great idea. One that was surely great and wouldn't make Rebecca freak out if she knew about it.

"Say, Sammy, how would you like to start learning to use Power Armor today? I think I looted a suit from the Brotherhood of Steel that'd fit you..."

Super Sentai Squad!...sans the super and sentai part...

Warning

The post you are about to read is canon.

Teknowledg-E Industries factory, India

With the stealth of a tornado sneaking through a trumpet collection, the six figures broke into the old factory. The security guards patrolling the facility were quick to respond, but just as quick to flee when they saw what kinds of horrible creatures were attacking. Horned, multi-colored, and reptilian, the invaders helped themselves to whatever pieces of technology they could find. The leader examined each device carefully, looking for sophisticated computer machines to put his plans into action. His companions, save the most elderly of the group, quickly grew bored of this exercise and began tossing things around in search of...well, not even they knew for sure except for the largest member of the group, who continuously asked if anyone saw a vending machine.

The Deadly Six, a team of six extraordinary beings called Zeti, had arrived.

"When do we get to smash stuff?!"

"I'm not carrying anything, right? I'll chip a nail!"

"This is all so pointless."

"Duuuuuhhhhh........does anyone else smell toast?"

The leader quickly grew agitated and snarled, bringing the four into line.

"Go to the upper levels and keep an eye out for the authorities," he ordered. "Master Zik and I will find our objective."

The leader slammed his fists together, cracking nearby computer monitors with a sonic wave.

"Now we shall get the real work done, yes?" Master Zik, the elderly Zeti, asked.

"Indeed we shall, Master," Zavok, leader of the group, responded as he set a device aside. "These components are more than suitable for repairing the scraps Eggman left behind for us."

The two continued to search the factory, quietly scavenging even as their companions continued to complain about being assigned boring tasks. The stream of complaints ended suddenly though, replaced by the sounds of hand-to-hand combat and gunfire. Moments later, the largest reptile, Zomom, came crashing down.

"Uuuuuuhhhhhh.....Boss, someone's attacking us."

Zavok facepalmed at how obvious the statement was. The sounds of his other minions, Zazz the Wild, Zeema the Vain, and Zor the Depressing, engaged in battle echoed across the factory. Other voices rang out as well: a gruff, commanding voice giving out orders as a chorus of high-pitched voices, something in German, and a strange roar answered back. There was also, oddly, the sound of a monkey.

"Continue your work, my student," Master Zik said. "I will see that you have time to find everything and leave."

Zavok nodded and turned back to his work. "I entrust our success to you then, Master."

With deceptive speed, Master Zik and Zomom leapt into the air and back towards the battle, where Zazz found himself being pummeled on three sides by a soldier with a shotgun and a cigar and a strange, masked alien with dreadlocks while Zor tried to escape the alternating curses and bullets of an insane robotic doctor. Zeema, meanwhile, was dodging around a purple-haired human girl with a hammer and fire magic, pausing only to throw something at the girl. Master Zik immediately launched a kick at the alien, catching it in the chest while Zomom tried to tackle the soldier to no effect.

The alien quickly rose to its feet in time for Master Zik to launch another fierce kick, except this time the Zeti was stopped mid-air as he found himself engulfed in some kind of webbing.

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAA! I gots me a biggun', Sarge!"

Master Zik quickly removed the webbing from him as he was attacked from above by a human girl almost as short as he was. The girl moved quickly but shot webbing from her hands in a very UNhuman-like fashion.

"Don't get cocky, Kurodane!" 'Sarge' shouted back. "These guys are almost tough enough to make me sweat!"

"Arrogant children!" Master Zik spat. "You shall have a lesson in respect beat into your heads!"

"Gotta hit me first, you prune!" 'Kurodane' taunted.

The elderly Zeti launched a flurry of punches and kicks at the girl, but her giggling never ceased, even when he did manage to land a hit. The girl was fast, but speed alone was nothing. She also had the annoying habit of bouncing off of walls, leaping high into the air, and at times outright flying.

"Need me to slow down?" she giggled again, evading a strike from Master Zik's staff.

A moment later, a burst of light shot from the first floor and struck the girl in the side.

"No, I don't think I will," Zavok stated matter-of-factly. "In fact, you may want to speed up. Deadly Six, we go!"

The other Zeti, bleeding and nursing wounds, were quick to fall back as their leader began spitting lasers and fireballs at their attackers. 'Sarge' and the alien returned fire, but the reptilians were quickly out of sight.

"Damn, almost had 'em....E.M.E.T., get over here! Kurodane's injured!" 'Sarge' ordered.

"Yes, Sergeant Johnson! I am right here!" the mechanic doctor E.M.E.T. responded, rushing over. "DAMMIT there's not even any interesting burns! Oh fucking well, deploying Healing Buoy."

Yamame Kurodane sighed as she felt her wound patching up. She'd let another badguy get the drop on her.

"Don't sweat it, kid. We'll fight 'em again," Sergeant Johnson said reassuringly. "Meanwhile, Predator, get on sentry duty. See if you can find them. Lucca, you figure out what those ugly geckos were after."

The excited chirping of a monkey interrupted the execution of Johnson's orders. Data the Monkey, a mechanical simian, trundled over.

"Orders from the patron, sir," Data reported. "Local authorities are en route. We are to return to the safe house for further orders. Another team will investigate the enemy's objective."

Johnson sighed. He didn't like leaving an unsecured combat zone, but orders were orders. "Alright team, pack it up and let's move out. Payment's waiting at the base."

Yamame sighed as the rest of her team left the factory the same way they'd come in. She wanted to punch something and vent her frustration, but settled for trying to imagine what Zeti blood tasted like as she crawled out into the night.

Come into my parlor...

Warning

The post you are about to read is canon.

~

You know, it's really hard for me to connect with people in this day and age. I just don't get some of this stuff that's cropped up in the last few years. Airplanes? Smartphones? This so-called "web"? When I was just a little 100 year-old larva, the only web we had at home was the one we made for ourselves! Of course, I haven't been home in ages; some bitch in red came in and I'm pretty sure everyone I knew from there is dead. Maybe one or two of them got out, but I don't know; I didn't stay to check. Yamame Kurodane ain't no sucker, that's for sure!

Hell, I had to go or else I'd've gotten hungry in a hurry! You can only eat so many dead people until you either get sick of it or they've decomposed past edibility. And believe me, you don't want that!

But you, buddy, you're different. Most people see me and wonder when school got out, but you saw past that and wanted to hang out! Be pals, have some fun, do some cool stuff. Ah, good times we had, my friend. Good times. And, heck, ice cream? I think that's the best thing that's happened to the world since meat!

But we both know all about that, right? You're such a great guy, offering to let me eat your meat when we've only known each other for a little while. I know how excited it made you when I accepted too, moreso when I suggested you come back to my place! You ARE a good friend.

I hope you're comfortable there, bundled up so warm and snug. Ooooooh, I could just eat you up, you look so good there! Shhhhh, shhhhhhhhhhhh, there's no need to say anything.

......why are you screaming? You look like you've never seen a girl with eight legs before. I mean, you KNEW I was a spider; why else would I web you up like this? Heeeeeeeee. Maybe you DIDN'T know? You think maybe you're dreaming? Well, that's fine. Get yourself worked up over nothing; adrenaline tastes so sweet, I love it.

I love you.

I just wish I could eat you all up.

But you're too big for one meal, so I think I'm going to suck you dry and turn the rest into jerky. I mean, who doesn't love jerky, am I right?

Shhh....it'll all be...oh dammit. A phone call? Now?

Hello? Ah, no, Sergeant! I'm not tied up at the moment at all. A mission? I'll be right there.

Sigh....always manages the worst time to call. Well, you don't mind waiting for me, right? I'll just wrap another layer over you; I don't want my dinner getting cold after all.

Ha ha ha!