The steps of South Town's police headquarters were swamped with the bustling bodies of the journalists and camera crews that had gathered for the press conference. Recent events had brought the inadequacies of the STPD to light, and now someone had to clean up this toxic spill of scandal. And of course, that someone was Police Commissioner Sawada. "Please," he said, he said, raising his hands to request the press calm down and back off, and also using his "Final Kamikaze" Super to drive them back with the force of his glistening sweaty chest. Once they were back the proper distance, he continued. "There is now cause for concern. I can assure you that whatever problems this city has, the South Town police department can handle it." This statement drove the press into a veritable frenzy, as they just started shouting questions at random. After a minute of the cacophony, Sawada worked to answer questions as best he could. "Those agencies are licensed by the city to act independently of the police; No, we are still investigating this patchwork mugger; E. HONDA!; We're sorry Mister Polnareff, I'm afraid we can't grant you a 24 hour bodyguard; At no time have we found evidence of a demonic plot to turn this city into a piece of Hell; We will be issuing stern warnings to street brawlers; we are currently requesting use of anti-kaiju equipment in case such an event occurs again; There is no number 3, please leave; Raul Julia was a great man, we all mourn his passing; low and slightly to the left; according to forensics, 32 Shotos can be canned in one go; 42; chicken wire, and a herring; That was clearly not a ninja moving van and you know it; to get to the other side; I'm Police Commissioner Sawada, that's who I am; Shaft; Yes, I am Damn right; Ghostbusters; blue; to crush your enemies,see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of their women; the beer baron has yet to be found; in bed, with yer momma; E. HONDA!; Absolutely nothing, and that's the bottom line, because Sawada said so!" There was a quiet pause, before Sawada noticed one reporter had actually waited out his turn to be asked. "Yes, you, in the back." "Vernon Fenwick, Channel 6 News," he said. "What are you going to do in light of the recent T-Virus outbreak?" Sawada laughed cheesily, as he was wont to do. "Silly man, there is no T-Virus. After a detailed investigation we have found that the problem is just a reploid cannibal, and that an overwhelming majority of those eaten were robots. I repeat: there is no T-Virus in South Town." It was then that a small band of zombies, led by the now zombified Brad Vickers, approached the conference, groaning "Braaaains..." "Commissoner Sawada," Vernon said," that man is most definitely a zombie, a common symptom of T-Virus. Is there a police cover-up? The people must know!" "He's not a zombie." "He's not? He sure looks like one." "Mr. Vickers has never really been the healthiest of people." "Braiiiinssss..." "He talks like a zombie." "Mr. Vickers was in a car accident the other day. No doubt he suffered brain damage." "Right." Vernon stopped, sniffed the air, and pushed down the urge to vomit. "He most definitely smells like a zombie." "Officer Brad Vickers was let go due to his incompetence in the field. I can assure you that the vile scent of decaying flesh is due to the fact that he can't afford to take a nice long bath. He is not a zombie." Vernon would have said more, but by that point one of the zombies had sunk its teeth into his throat, while the other malicious corpses had been tearing the other reporters to pieces. Sawada, still standing atop the stairs, was completely safe, as it's a well known fact that zombies can't climb stairs. "No more questions?" Sawada asked, oblivious to the carnage unfolding before him. "Then thank you. Have a nice day." and went back inside police headquarters. [---] The door flew open, smacking against the alley wall with a loud bang. moments later, Sharon emerged dragging along several bags of garbage behind her. One of the bags was beginning to tear open, but she didn't say a word to curse at the situation. After all, she was a professional. Assassinations, kidnapping, pounding the living daylights out of some 2-bit shotoclone, her life had been filled with the flowing pain of violence. Hell, that's why she joined Violence Unlimited: So she could beat or shoot the hell out of things her way and get paid for it. If nothing else, Violence Unlimited was her true calling. So how come she felt so miserable? Dwelling on the situation, Sharon could be silent no more. "Because my career's going down the toilet and I know it," She said as she flung the first bag into the dumpster. "Because ever since that new kid showed up, my position in the company had dropped like a stone. I used to be the number one troubleshooter, the best Violence Unlimited had to offer. Now look at me: going down on CJ like some cheap whore so I can get paid, Running support roles in missions instead of taking point, and hauling trash that if I recall is Fuuma's job!" "You rang?" said idiot ninja said, raising his head out of the dumpster Sub-Zero had put him in. Sharon said nothing in response, choosing instead to hit him in the face with a thrown brick. Unconscious, Fuuma's body sank back amidst the waste. "And then there's the insanity," Sharon groused as she left the alleyway to go to her favorite bar. "It used to be simple: find the guy, beat him up, then collect my pay. Now I'm having to deal with dinosaur turtles, insane midgets, zombies, ninjas, and a whole bunch of other crap." Now, encountering freaks and weirdoes against her, that she could handle. But being stuck with guys like Fuuma, Jae and to a lesser extent, Hugo, as her co-workers was a fact that was digging away under her skin to a degree that she'd go insane, because unlike everyone else she didn't take vacations, as taking time off meant she got paid less. It was then she noticed the Limousine that was pulling in front of her. This ticked her off even more, because some damn yuppie felt blocking pedestrian traffic was excusable for macking with his ho of the day. So, Sharon figured she'd spite him by climbing over the damn thing. But as she stepped up to the car, one of its back windows rolled down and she was greeted by the old and very ugly mug of Heihachi Mishima, the second richest man in town (a distant second from the obscenely wealthy Kyo Kusanagi). The old man smiled and pointed at her like he was a Hollywood agent. "Sharon, right?" He asked. "What's it to you, Zaibastu?" she said. "Well, I'd like to make you an offer..." "I'm listening. I have a question first, however." "That being?" "Why the Hell were you wearing a diaper at your last tournament?" "Can I help it if I'm an E. Honda fanboy?" [---] FORGOT ABOUT JAE Chapter 23: Picking at S.C.A.B.S. Forged in the fires of Chaos by Shelby Scott Horrifically twisted by Jim Eperson Given a semblance of order by Gavin Jasper and Mary-Melissa Wilzewski [---] Last time of Forgot About Jae: - Fuuma made a new friend... - ... Or did he? - The Smoker had some new friends made for him - The Time Posse showed Ryu that the fight is all - Many a thing was said of E. Honda - Clay9999 and Shang Tsung....ew. - Pac-man ph33rz Scorpion - The Centaurian/Shokan feud is over! [---] "Children," Shao Kahn said as he stood in his throne room facing the camera, his eyes glowing redder than usual, "Today your invincible Kahn wishes to be serious for a moment! Lights, please!" The stage lights went out, save for one spotlight just to Kahn's left. He moved to stand in the middle of the light, and it swung to the far left. He walked to the right and the spotlight swung back to the left. This happened two more times before he lobbed a green fireball into the rafters, knocking the off-camera-sonuvabitch-stagehand to his doom. "You weak, pathetic fool! I'm not doing the spotlight bit!" The replacement stagehand centered the spotlight on the demonic entertainer. "Excellent! Now, as many of you know, today has been our salute to fathers, and I'd just like to take this time to thank my own father, where-ever he may be!" "He's much closer than you think, Master," Motaro said from off-camera. "What do you mean, Sideshow Motaro?" "Because he's here in the studio today! Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please put your appendages together for Shao Kahn's dad and New Mexico State senator, The Dark Lord Sauron!" A thick gray mist swept out over the floor of the studio, as Sauron stepped out from behind the curtains, while his Ringwraith bodyguards took up their positions around the room. Clad in blackened full plate mail armor, with a matching black silk cape and a face concealing helm crowned with iron spikes, The Dark Lord's terrifying image was ruined as he gave his estranged son a hug. "My son," he said in a voice that seemed to burn like fire, "it has been far too long!" Kahn strained his neck to look into his father's eyes, as while Kahn stood at seven foot four, Sauron towered over him at a dizzying ten foot nothing. "Papa!" Kahn said, ending the hug. "I thought you said you hated me?" Sauron nodded. "I did, but that was only because I was so set in seeing that you follow the family tradition by becoming an evil overlord and turning Edenia into a desolate Outworld. But, thanks to two of your viewers, I was shown that while you may not be an unstoppable warlord like I'd hoped, by being a children's show host you are still just as Evil." [---] "Wow," Mel Masters said to his best friend as he watched Kahn and Sauron make amends, "we really did good, Anita." Anita, the terrifying little psychic girl, said nothing. But she did show the slightest trace of a smile for a brief moment when Mel blinked. [---] "Thank you father! I don't suppose you'd care to join me in a game of Whack-A-Soul?" Kahn picked up his stone hammer to accentuate his question. The Dark Lord Sauron looked down at his progeny in silence, then from his side he hefted a truly menacing black steel mace. "But of course!" "Also father, can I borrow The One Ring for sweeps week? Puppet Pal Pete's Party Playhouse is against us and I wish to crush his soul in the ratings!" [---] Meanwhile, the Battle between the Battler Man Brigade and the Battlertoads had fallen into a stalemate with the arrival of the Green Earwig and his Nameless Associate Guy. Indeed, since the two new arrivals, the battle had slown to a crawl, with neither side gaining the upper hand. Battler Man and his allies theoretically had the numbers advantage (Smoker and Mariah-Net were hanging back from the fight proper), but the Battlertoad's defensive line was unbreakable. The brick wall of the building beside the fight wasn't, however, as the masonry gave way before the crushing fists of... "Abobo!" Battler Girl cried, "Avert your eyes! Knock yourselves out if you have to!" Everyone, fearing for their sanity, did as suggested, Save for the Battlertoads, who needed to be told by Smoker to do as Battler Girl said, but since he'd just shot himself in the face to escape what was about to happen, so they were not spared the full horror of Abobo... ...in a Speedo... While wearing a top hat, tap shoes and carrying a cane... Performing a dance that was a monstrous hybrid of the Latino heat exemplified by Ricky Martin, and the Broadway stylings of Michigan J. Frog. Exactly how this hybrid is accomplished, shall for the sake of Humanity, remain unmentioned. A short time later, the others dared to look about, to see if Abobo had left, and in what condition he['d left the Battlertoads. Surprisingly, the three mutant toad clones were apparently healthy, untouched even. Were these freakish abominations in the eyes of God immune to the most terrifying creature to walk the earth? Rush coughed, and said "Mi mi mi mi mi." The seven fighters watched as the Battlertoads pulled from behind their backs straw hats and bamboo canes, and started singing and dancing back and forth. "Oh, we are the Battler-Toads, we always get a-long. We do a little dance and we sing a little song. If you ever disagree, then you must be wrong. Oh, We are the Battler-Toads, we always get a-long!" The three musical amphibians then danced away down the street, leaving their former enemies and master to their fates. Which meant that Smoker and Mariah-Net received a royal pounding. [---] The Trashman checked his side mirror. He was now certain of the fact that the black van behind him was tailing him. Not that he cared. What mattered was that he prove to those prissy little Garden Society clowns got what was coming to them. He'd make them pay. He'd plow through that big expo of theirs then unload all the toxic gunk in the back of his truck, thus making sure that nobody could use the arboretum for another 20 years. If that wasn't twisted enough to get himself into Calypso's Twisted Metal Rat Race, nothing was. It was then that he heard a "Sucka!", and somebody threw a fireball at him. Trashman swerved, knocking over a fire hydrant, then took a sharp left through the park, keeping his head down under the fireballs from the van. Trashman decelerated, pulling back behind the van as he lowered the pickup spikes of his truck. Taking careful aim, he readied to hit the nitrous and send that van flying. What he was not ready for was that the back doors of the van flew open and for some splotch of green to smack into his windshield. Turning the wheel in desperate need, Trashman was doing everything in his power to keep from crashing. Which was then that he noticed that what he thought was a splotch of green paint was a man in ratty green clothes, his head concealed by a swath of white bandages, save for one unblinking red eye that just kept staring at him. Trashman watched as the freak before him pulled out a bowie knife and started stabbing at the windshield, ignorant of the danger he was in as the dude in the van was still shooting at the garbage truck. And thus he completely ignored the land mine that had been lain on the road he'd been herded towards, which exploded under him. The truck went up in a spectacular fireball. The green man was thrown clear, his wiry body smacking against a billboard for safe driving. The black van pulled up a short distance away, as its driver got out to inspect his bandaged colleague. He was a vicious looking creature, his inhuman mouth shaped in a perpetual grin of razor-sharp gold teeth, while his jet-black eyes surveyed the destruction. Trashman was most definitely a goner, which just left... "Jack," The creature, known to the world as B.T. Baraka, said. "Hey you crazy foo', get up Sucka!" Jack, "Howling Mad" Jack to his friends, quickly stood at attention before returning to his usual slouch, his unblinking eye staring in a random direction. "Heh... Bueno... Excellente." "Yeah, I can agree with you for once on that. That sucka's toast. And that means..." Rolento Schuberg, appeared from the bushes alongside his teammmates. "I love it when," he paused to snap his fingers, "Mission complete. Calypso won't have to worry about that scum entering his contest. Nice work, S.C.A.B.S." And with that the screen froze. [---] "Yes, S.C.A.B.S.," The announcer said as the commercial proper began. "Stylish Commando Action Battle Squad, helping you deal with problems only a crack team of freelance enforcers can handle. No matter your problem, our guarantee is that we can handle anything you could hire us for!" The image changed to a shaky hand-held camcorder's view of two teenagers fighting off a horde of the living dead. "Zombies eating your neighbors? We do that." And the teens were quickly joined by 'YoYo' Yoko, teenaged police officer, who began throwing around the zombies and shredding them with a bladed yo-yo. The image changed to that of Kyo Kusanagi tied to a chair. "Kidnapped presidents? We do that." Kyo was freed from his chair by Gado, the zoanathrope lion commando. The image changed to an entire platoon of ninjas descending upon a helpless old lady. "A veritable horde of Ninjas are flipping out? We do that too." and the ninjas were driven off by the combined S.C.A.B.S. team. The image froze while the team power posed, as the company number flashed on the bottom of the screen. "Remember our slogan: You name 'em, we maim 'em." [---] Cracker Jack was livid as he watched the S.C.A.B.S. commercial. Not only were these new guys encroaching on their turf, but they apparently had a budget big enough to support such an expensive looking commercial. And that meant even more work was going to be pulled away from Violence Unlimited. Which meant less money for CJ. And less money meant he'd be even grumpier than usual. In fact, he was going to pound the next guy who came through his door, which would very likely be Fuuma. However his violent fantasies were interrupted by the buzz of the intercom and Poison's voice. "There's some guy who wants to see you," shi said while chewing on some gum. "Says he's got a job for us." The news of a paying customer instantly put CJ into a better mood, which was a good thing when he saw who the potential client was. He was a very large and muscular African-American, wearing green commando style pants and a tank top styled after the American flag, as well as several gold chains, amulets, pendants and necklaces about his neck. No other introduction was needed, as CJ instantly recognized him as the legendary prizefighter and television star, Mr. T.J. Combo. "Combo," CJ said, "what's a helluva tough guy like you want with us?" "Cut yo jibba-jabba you crazy foo," Mr. T.J. said, "I want you to beat someone up for me. I'd uppercut this sucka hella far myself but I gotta go and dedicate a hella many youth centers today." "Understandable. Now who do you want us to hurt and why?" "It's that crazy foo' Baraka! That little bitch's been ripping TJ off! With his gold teeth, acting like TJ, dressing like TJ, that suckah's a pallete swap!" "Baraka's a palette swap? Of you?" "Yeah!" "You are an American boxing champion who had his title taken away because you have metal arms under your skin." "That's right." "Baraka is a nomad mutant king from another dimension who gets off on genocide and is in love with Kitana's extra deluxe triple A rated ripple mocha fudge crackle with a sesame seed bun fugly sister." "Yeah! Can you believe that ripoff artist foo'?" "I'm not going to argue, The money has convinced me." A thought went off in his mind, and CJ blinked. "Wait. Did you say Baraka? As in B.T. Baraka? As in S.C.A.B.S.?" "Hella yeah. TJ wants you crazy foo's to pound those suckas into next week! Some corporate pig stole the idea from me, and TJ wants that pet project of his busted!" "We'll do it," CJ said with a calm, business-like manner. In the dark recesses of his mind however, his adrenaline was playing Ozzy at max volume. An excuse to pound the crap out of the competition and get paid for it? This was too good to pass up. "Hey boss," Fuuma said as he barged in, his outfit singed and smoking, and his head was still on fire. "Some guy parked his Cadillac in our no parking zone so I hotwired it and tried to drive it round back but I pushed the wrong wires I guess and then it exploded." CJ stared at Fuuma, then at Mr. TJ. "Fuuma," he said, "when you return from your trip, we'll be going after S.C.A.B.S." Fuuma was about to make a witty comeback, but that was when he found himself passing a flock of seagulls, then he started sailing downwards and into Old Man Ramuh's Catuar preserve. "Wow," he said, "that TJ sure can uppercut helluva far! In fact, I'd say that when I hit the ground it's going to hurt more than anything before in my life. But hey, what am I worried about? I'm sure my good buddy Sub-Zero will save me before it's too late." As he freefell towards the ground, Fuuma also noted... "Hey, I can see my house from here." [---] Sub-Zero looked up from his drink. "Hmm," he said, "my Ninja senses are tingling, which suggests that Fuuma is plummeting towards the Earth at an exponential rate, so I guess I'd better help him out like the trusted ally that I am. However, if my ninja senses are correct, it should be a good fifteen minutes before he smacks into the dirt, so I don't have to go just yet. But I will, because I gave my word to Fuuma, and my word is my bond!" On the other side of the bar, the E. Honda appreciation society was still going at it. "He put the Bob in the Bop-Shebop!" "He uses Sabretooth as a crotch scratcher!" "He taught Chop Chop Master Onion how to sing!" "He once belched the entire Illiad in the original Greek language with one breath!" "The what?" "READ A BOOK!" "Shut up Guile!" "They named a sexual act after him! But it's physically impossible to perform unless you lack joints!" "J. P. Polnareff is his pet sea-monkey's name!" "His dark soul is what caused Professor X to become Onslaught!" "Wasn't that Magneto?" "No, that was...E. HONDA!" "To E. Honda!" Athena nearly fell off of her stool. "He got all of Ecuador in a massive mail fraud scheme, pinned it all on Dan, and got away with millions in ill-gotten loot!" Sie Kensou belched. "That was you, Athena." She drunkenly shrugged. "Right. To Me!" With those words, the barroom was filled with a long, awkward, Earth shattering silence. Then, Seth stood up from the table, looked Athena and Sie in the eyes and said, "Okay, I'm going to have to ask you two to leave. You've had too much to drink and are disturbing my customers. I'll have a cab come round to pick you up, but until then I'll have to ask you to wait outside." After the two left, Seth returned to the table. "So where were we?" Benimaru raised his glass and shouted. "He made Dan and Athena mortal enemies, and plays their worshippers against each other for shits and giggles!" "TO E. HONDA!" [---] Roughly 24 hours later, Hugo was shaking down Fuuma, helping get the last of the cactuar nettles out of him. "T-t-t-thanks, b-b-b-b-big guy-y-y-y-y." "NPRBLGFLMMMN." "Will you two keep it down," CJ hissed, "we're breaking into the S.C.A.B.S compound now, and it would help if we could at least make it look like we're trying to be stealthy about it." The giant and the numbskull both nodded silently. "Poison," CJ whispered into the microphone headset he wore, "we're in position. Any word from Sharon yet?" There was a crackle of static, before Poison's voice came over the line. "Not a word. I did get word of the hit to her voice mail, so if you guys run into trouble...." "I understand." he turned to his team, which was everyone but Poison and Sharon. "Right, here's the plan. We go in, whack Baraka, do as much damage to their compound as possible, then get out. If any of his buddies get in the way, well, beat them senseless too. Nobody rips us off and gets away with it." Silently, the assembled mishmash of fighters snuck past the barbed wire fence that surrounded the S.C.A.B.S. compound, and towards the barracks, when suddenly, they found themselves under the blinding glare of a searchlight, and surrounded by their competitors. "Shit," CJ said, "they were ready!" "Yeah," Rolento said as he lit himself a cigar, "you boys aren't exactly the most subtle of people." "Not that it matters," CJ replied, "Since your boys are going to get wasted by us in about a minute." "Oh they aren't my boys," Rolento said, "I'm just the second in command." "They're mine," A woman said as she stepped out from behind the searchlight, her left arm cradling an all-too-familiar assault rifle. "Sharon?" CJ said in surprise, "what the Hell are you doing with these jokers?" Sharon rolled her eyes in disgust. "I just said I'm their squad leader, you idiot! Does that hat of yours block your hearing as well as most of your eyes?" "But why Sharon," Jae asked, "Whay turn your back on your freinds?" She laughed. "Money, you stupid little do-gooder! Heihachi's paying me a bloody fortune to run this new branch of his Tekken Forces. That, and the fact that I don't have to be surrounded by idiots like you and Fuuma!" "And I pity the foo', thug, or soul who picks a fight with S.C.A.B.S.," Baraka shouted, "'cuz we're gonna send you all cryin' home to momma!" The other commandos nodded in agreement, readying to launch into full melee with Violence Unlimited in a fight to the death they were ready to win. "So," Sharon said," any last words, 'Boss'?" "Yeah," CJ said, "I've got four actually...TAKE THE SHOT, DRIVER!" From a distant rooftop, there was a loud KRAK, and Baraka fell down amidst a geyser of blood from his chest. The Driver pumped his fist in silent victory. God, it felt good to have the use of his arms back. "Holy Jumpin' Catfish!" Rolento exclaimed. "Gross!" Yoko screamed. Gado roared. he didn't sound happy. of course, he never was happy "Heh...Beuno...Excellente", 'Howling Mad' Jack said, because that was pretty much all he ever said. "Smart, CJ," Sharon said. "I should've seen that coming." She turned to her fellow S.C.A.B.S. "At ease, team." "You're taking your trooper's death pretty easy," CJ said. "What can I say, he reminded me of Fuuma, and S.C.A.B.S. has a zero- tolerance policy towards idiots. Now, since you've completed your job, I'd like to ask you and your crew to get off our compound. Consider it a parting gift from me." "And if we decide we want to stay?" From throughout the compound, countless Tekken Force troopers came out of hiding, each bearing an assault rifle at the trespassers. "Then I can't be held accountable for the actions of our security team." CJ turned towards the exit gates, and gestured for the rest of his team to follow. "Come on, boys, let's go home. We can crush these army brats next time." As her former allies left, Sharon turned to her squad. "And next time, we show those civilians no mercy. Am I right, team?" "Right!" [---] In the hallowed halls of Ninjas Anonymous, Iori Yagami, fresh from his week in Syndication Hell, stood before Hanzou. "Well Iori," Hanzou said, "I must say you recovered your sanity rather quickly. When Scorpion dragged you in this morning you couldn't even make a coherent sentence." "Thank you," Iori said, " I owe it to my ninja training that I'm myself again. Once again I am proud to serve under you, sir." "Yeah, about that. Iori, I have good news and I have bad news." "That being?" Hanzou leaned back. "The good news is that because of your sheer skill and a plea on your behalf from Scorpion, You may remain a ninja despite being caught trying to kill Kyo Kuanagi." Iori bowed. "Thank you Master Hanzou...Damn...What's the bad news." Hanzou titled his hand back and forth. "Well, that's the thing. It's good for us since we get a cut of the profits, but it's bad for you because..." Iori got on his hands and knees, pleading without shame before his leader. "Please, anything but that! I beg you, don't put me through that again." "I'm sorry Iori, but your show was a smash hit. Kyo's going to pay us a fortune in return, in addition to our exclusive service in any situation he wants dealt with. Iori, stop crying, it's only one hour each day, and what doesn't kill you can only make you stronger." "You weren't THERE, MAN!" Iori wailed at Hanzou, as the clock struck 3 PM, and a hyped up catchy piece of country music began wafting through the air. "Hey kids," the Unseen Announcer called out, "It's time for Iori Yagami's Happy-Happy Fun Magic Sing-Song Hour Jamboree! and Here's your host, Iori Yagami The Happy Happy Song Singing Vegetable Farmer!" Iori began hitting himself in the face, hoping to spend the next hour in a coma, as the Muppet Vegetable Fighters began to pop up around him. "Hey guys," Red Hat Chili Pyron said in a cheery voice, "We have a special guest, Ninja Leader Hanzou. whee, that felt nifty! Anyway, let's sing him a song he'll enjoy!" The various muppets began to sing a familiar song. "Whoooooooooooooooooo, Chinese Ninja Warrior..." "With your heart SOOOOOOO COOOOOOOOOOOOlD!!!" "SUB-ZEROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Sub-Lime-Zero sang. Sub-Zero, who had been watching from the sidelines, wept. Karma was indeed a heartless man-eating bitch. 1234567890123456789012345678901234567890123456789012345678901234567890 Well, that wraps up this chapter, And I hoped you enjoyed it. Special thanks goes to Gavok for helping me come up with a plot for this chapter. Now put your appendages together, for the creator of FAJ, DarkHeart One!