From: Karnivax (karnivax@my-deja.com) Subject: [PW!] Yesss, Alwaysss Newsgroups: alt.games.nintendo.pokemon Date: 2000-11-08 14:30:18 PST (OOC: Beth, you there? I brought him back! Beth?! ^^;;;) Dangling on the end of a ledge that seemed like miles above the street, the man had one faint hope for survival...the mercy of the beast that was scowling down at him, the beast that had chased him out on to the ledge in the first place. And currently the monster was lowering its muzzle to near where the man had a tenuous grasp on life. This was it. The beast was going to bite the man's hand off. The man closed his eyes. But what he felt wrap around his wrist was not a set of teeth. It was a pair of scaly hands. He was being pulled to safety! "Quite an experience to live in fear, isssn't it?" the reptilian beast remarked as he helped the man back up. "That'sss what it'sss like to live asss a ssslave." "Cut!!!" a loud voice shouted nearby. Hearing that, the man jumped down from the ledge to a mattress situated immediately below. "Mr. Schpielbunk, is it lunch yet?" the actor asked. Two men, one a corpulent man in a stereotypical director's outfit, and the other a scrawny man with a ponytail, strode up to the ledge set. "Not just yet," the corpulent one said. "I have an odd feeling that thisss ssscript hasss been done before," the reptilian beast commented as he saw the director approaching. "I don't know what you're talking about! This is my finest work!" the director cried. "Now, Panopticon, that was a good performance, but I thought it had a slight...gonk." Panopticon rubbed what passed for temples in his species. "What isss a gonk?" he grunted. "Would you mind telling me what that isss, pleassse?" "You're emphasizing 'fear,'" Stevon Schpielbunk explained. "You need to put more emphasis on 'in.'" "What?" Panopticon ranted. "That doesssn't make any sssenssse. Get me a jury, ssshow me a sssentence in which you can put 'in' before an abssstract noun and emphasssize it. It'sss ridiculousss, if you don't mind my sssaying ssso. It'sss ssstupid." He paced back and forth. The scrawny man finally piped up, "That was my fault; I said '*in* fear...'" Panopticon grunted, "Yesss, alwaysss." "Anyway, can we just do it again?" the scrawny man very quickly added. "Why? I jussst did it perfectly," Panopticon growled. He clenched his fists. "Look, I'm not usssed to having more than one being give me ordersss! Either you get your ressspective actsss together, or you can find yourssself another Velociraptor..." He pointed at the scrawny man. "You. Go." "But Panopticon, I'm the producer!" "You *were* the producer," Panopticon snapped. He next pointed at a white Charizard that was sitting comfortably in his designated chair. "Inferno will be producing thisss sssegment." The producer stomped off of the set in a huff. Inferno stood up, put on a pair of sunglasses, and flew up to the studio's sound booth. The director chose to intervene before Panopticon made any other decisions. "All right, all right...lunch time, people!" Annoyed, Panopticon headed for the catering, where the rest of his Pokémon were staked out. Regulus the Starmie was lounging about in its own personal aquarium. Proteus the black Ditto was busy stuffing his face with sweets. The trio of teal-colored Scyther that had been extracted more than a year ago from the womb of Jessica Sullivan were having a vicious battle over the last piece of chicken. Eventually one of the three Scyther, now adolescents, emerged the victor, clutching the last chicken leg in her scythes. "Thanks for the experience points!" the female Scyther said in plain English to her beaten siblings. Panopticon looked on with surrogate fatherly pride. "Excellent work, Ssshrapnel," Panopticon congratulated the winner. "You're going to make a fine assssassssin sssome day." "That's why I should be given the honor of killing Mom," the young female suggested with a twinkle in her eye. "She who so readily left the three of us to die, just because she couldn't accept herself..." Panopticon was pleased that the young Scyther had so readily accepted his lies. "Come now, let'sss not be hasssty," Panopticon told her. "I've given thisss much thought in recent weeksss, and I know for a fact that your mother already leadsss a pretty torturousss exissstence. Killing her would be, well, doing her a favor." "But I've trained so hard," Shrapnel pointed out. "I was looking forward to the day -" "I know, and I'm very impressssed by your drive to train and ssstrengthen yourself," Panopticon praised. "The drive that your sssiblingsss ssseem to lack." He quickly shot an accusing glare at the losers in the scuffle, then he looked again at the winner. "We will make your mother sssuffer further...by targeting thossse ssshe caresss about. It will be a while before thisss film isss complete and we will be able to ssset our plansss in motion...but ressst assssured, my dear, that I will allow you the firssst kill." "Thank you, Panopticon," Shrapnel responded, as she knew full well that Panopticon was not Dad. "I'll...I'll continue my training." Proud that at least one of his surrogate children was turning out the way he had hoped, Panopticon walked away to get a newspaper. "'I'll...I'll continue my training,'" the lone male Scyther said mockingly after Panopticon was out of the picture. "You disgust me, Shrapnel. You and your kissass..." "Panopticon is letting you two get fat off of his movie career, even though you're good-for-nothing slackers," Shrapnel snapped. "I think you should shut your traps and show him some appreciation." "I'm supposed to thank Panopticon for keeping me alive?" the male snorted. "He wants us to waste our lives going around killing people! I mean, we only get ten years of life, tops! We should be free, mingling with others of our kind...instead, we're sitting around in a movie studio fighting over food and discussing stock options!" The second female suddenly spoke up in a low, dejected voice. "We'd never be able to blend in with other Scyther, Ransack," she said sadly. "We're freaks, all three of us. We're doomed to a life of isolation..." "Bombshell speaks the truth, Ransack," Shrapnel chimed in. "This is all we have. So you'd best learn to go with it." Ransack just let out a deep growl and turned away. Sometime later, Panopticon, having absorbed whatever input he could from the newspaper and having skeletonized an entire Butterball turkey for lunch, heard Stevon Schpielbunk bellow for everyone to return to the set. "We're going to do the ledge scene again!" the portly man announced. Panopticon just snarled in concession and went back to work. (OOC: Forgive me, Goddish, for I hath mangled countless quotes...) --K * A * R * N * I * V * A * X-- "Some have said there is no subtlety to destruction. You know what? They're dead." --Jaya Ballard, task mage