I'm going to scrap the Rainbow Mafia thing (at least for now) and pretend Mrs. Pickles just got promoted. I'll fill in the gaps between the promotion and this meeting with other things, that I'll elaborate on later, if that's alright.
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Szechuan McNugget sauce. I want to try it.
8 yrs ago
Fly home buddy. I work alone.
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8 yrs ago
If 93% of conversation is nonverbal, why don't more people shut up?
8 yrs ago
Legend says, if you hold your ear to a conch shell, you'll hear a conch shell.
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Still alive! I'll do... something. (?)
I'm alive.
It shouldn't have caught anyone by surprise, but only two people saw it coming. Clarence Ketchum, Ash Ketchum's youngest child, and his friend, Mr. Arnold Collins.
Still want to do some work and refine this, but I want to see if anyone is interested first and has any questions. I plan on this being a bit silly and ridiculous at times.
Still want to do some work and refine this, but I want to see if anyone is interested first and has any questions. I plan on this being a bit silly and ridiculous at times.
Finally got a post up. Sorry, I've been very busy lately.
@Animal@Emuxe
“Water, eh? You know who drinks water? Convicts! Felons!”
The man sniffed.
“You had lots of detail. I’ll give you that. But only a cold hearted villain could make up that much nonsense on the spot! And what kind of a favorite color is p-”
“Sir!” exclaimed a voice from the door.
The man whirled around, furious. “Rule 22! Never interrupt me during an interrogation!”
“Sir, this is a hero. He’s interviewing. Not being interrogated.”
The man looked around, as if he had just woken up.
“Ah… oh… erm… yes. Interview. Yep. My bad. Well, you pass.”
“Sir, did you actually-”
“Hush. Well son, it would seem that your bravery has earned you a promotion-”
“-Sir-”
“Congratulations! You’re now a Class B, Rank 1 hero.”
“Sir, that’s his current rank.”
“Well of course it’s his current rank. That’s what I promoted him to!”
“Sir, why don’t you let the others perform the interview.”
“I suppose you’re right… that’s probably a good idea. I’m terrible at interviews.”
The older man walked out, and the man who had been speaking to him from the door entered. He was a young man, sharply dressed with a suit and tie. His nametag read “Nicholas” and he typically would be found holding doors open, fetching coffee, coordinating schedules, and doing all the annoying, tedious, and relatively unimportant, paperwork for his higher ups. Despite his position, Nicholas always seemed to be a tad… arrogant. However, he still managed to remain relatively polite most of the time.
“Don’t mind him. That’s ‘Sleepy’- or at least, that’s what we call him. He’s okay, he just gets… heated when he’s reminded of his glory days as a cop. After hero’s essentially took over and he became an over glorified traffic cop, he tries to make up situations to keep himself from getting bored. I’ll have someone else conduct the interview momentarily.”
@Melkor
Red’s arrival at the hospital had been surprisingly smooth, especially for a criminal. Red realized suddenly that this was the first time he had been arrested (as an adult) and suddenly felt a tad bit ashamed that his streak had ended in such a fashion.
However, he wasn’t in a sour mood for very long. First of all, he was quickly able to comfort himself when he realized that he would likely be allowed to walk out a free man with the help of Orange and his various connections.
Next, even the worst case scenario (being stuck in prison for a couple of years) wasn’t particularly scary. In fact, he felt that it could even serve as a nice break.
Finally, the nurse was also extremely comforting for… other reasons. She giggled at most of his jokes (even though they were awful… but Red didn’t know that), flirted with him, and made him nice and comfortable, even though he was chained to his own bed. Finally, after about fifteen or twenty minutes, the doctor left him, her, and the guard alone.
Suddenly the guard made eye contact with the nurse and there was some sort of exchange. That was… odd. But then, Red recognized the guard. An inside man. He’d trained the guy himself eight or nine months ago.
But what could a nurse have to do with the Rainbow Gang…?
He looked at the nurse, perplexed. “Who are you?”
She giggled. “I can’t believe you don’t recognize me! Although, I shouldn’t get offended.”
Her voice suddenly altered and became harsh, masculine, and deep. “Most people don’t…”
Red was still dumbfounded.
“I just change so much,” she said in her normal voice (but perhaps not so high pitched and flirty as before), “I can hardly recognize myself.” She sighed.
“So you’re Blue? I thought Blue was a dude,” said Red.
“I can be… but, no, I’m not. Biologically speaking. Anyways, I’ve been sent to have a quick chat with you.”
Red nodded.
“Orange is upset. Very upset.”
“What for? I did what he asked. Tried to kill Mrs. Pickles.”
“He doesn’t want you to draw attention to ourselves as we kill him. We’re not ready for that yet. Only afterwards.”
“Well, I saw an opportunity and I took it. He confronted me.”
“We know. That was another one of the many issues.”
“So what? I’ve never been the most secretive member of this gang before. Why is this becoming an issue now?”
“Sure, people would look at you and expect you were a gangster. How did this guy figure out the location of a leader? You got cocky. And you lost. You lost hard. And that loss is humiliating. We can’t suffer from this loss of respect amongst our members. I’m sure you of all people would understand the importance of human resources. After all, you used to be in charge of them.”
“Used to? Hold on. I am in charge of this. I’m part of the structure. You can’t just toss me in prison!”
“I never said you’d live long enough to get to prison.”
Two minutes later, the doctor returned, surprised to find Red’s corpse peacefully resting on the bed. The guard and nurse had both vanished without a trace.
Almost immediately afterwards, the doctor sprinted into the room containing Ventus and the paramedics.
“The man that Mrs. Pickles was fighting is dead. He was injected with a slew of medications that killed him. I think the nurse and his guard may have been involved somehow.”
“That’s the one we just hired, isn’t it?” asked the calm paramedic.
The doctor nodded vigorously. The calm paramedic cursed. “She could be anywhere right now…” he muttered.
...
Blue examined her fingernails as the guard drove her towards her apartment. Things had gone well. She just needed a call from-
Her phone vibrated. Blue smiled. There it was.
"Hello, Orange," said Blue.
"Talk." The voice was raspy.
"Red failed, as you know. I handled him. I tried to sneak in and have Mrs. Pickles inhale some cyanide gas, and that might have killed him. I wouldn't bet on it though. That moron was flailing around like a fish, and Ventus had an eye on him."
"Then as far as I'm concerned, he's still alive. I've been studying the S Classes for awhile. I am not willing to deal with Ventus as an enemy. The storm has been over for a long time. But the clouds are back in the sky. I’ll get the children indoors. Does Ventus have the note?”
“No.”
“Good.” Orange hung up.
Blue frowned. She hated the code. It was so overcomplicated. She understood the need for secrecy, but Orange was just too thorough sometimes.
She sighed and looked at the piece of paper she had snagged off of the floor when Ventus wasn’t looking. Thank goodness she had picked it up. She opened it up. It was a note to Clarence, to come forward and exchange himself for the safety of the twins. He had tried to confront them instead, walked right up to Red (how that incompetent moron actually found Red was a mystery) and, if he ever regained consciousness, he would wake up with his head under a guillotine. Orange and her weren’t the only ones who would see to that.
“Water, eh? You know who drinks water? Convicts! Felons!”
The man sniffed.
“You had lots of detail. I’ll give you that. But only a cold hearted villain could make up that much nonsense on the spot! And what kind of a favorite color is p-”
“Sir!” exclaimed a voice from the door.
The man whirled around, furious. “Rule 22! Never interrupt me during an interrogation!”
“Sir, this is a hero. He’s interviewing. Not being interrogated.”
The man looked around, as if he had just woken up.
“Ah… oh… erm… yes. Interview. Yep. My bad. Well, you pass.”
“Sir, did you actually-”
“Hush. Well son, it would seem that your bravery has earned you a promotion-”
“-Sir-”
“Congratulations! You’re now a Class B, Rank 1 hero.”
“Sir, that’s his current rank.”
“Well of course it’s his current rank. That’s what I promoted him to!”
“Sir, why don’t you let the others perform the interview.”
“I suppose you’re right… that’s probably a good idea. I’m terrible at interviews.”
The older man walked out, and the man who had been speaking to him from the door entered. He was a young man, sharply dressed with a suit and tie. His nametag read “Nicholas” and he typically would be found holding doors open, fetching coffee, coordinating schedules, and doing all the annoying, tedious, and relatively unimportant, paperwork for his higher ups. Despite his position, Nicholas always seemed to be a tad… arrogant. However, he still managed to remain relatively polite most of the time.
“Don’t mind him. That’s ‘Sleepy’- or at least, that’s what we call him. He’s okay, he just gets… heated when he’s reminded of his glory days as a cop. After hero’s essentially took over and he became an over glorified traffic cop, he tries to make up situations to keep himself from getting bored. I’ll have someone else conduct the interview momentarily.”
@Melkor
Red’s arrival at the hospital had been surprisingly smooth, especially for a criminal. Red realized suddenly that this was the first time he had been arrested (as an adult) and suddenly felt a tad bit ashamed that his streak had ended in such a fashion.
However, he wasn’t in a sour mood for very long. First of all, he was quickly able to comfort himself when he realized that he would likely be allowed to walk out a free man with the help of Orange and his various connections.
Next, even the worst case scenario (being stuck in prison for a couple of years) wasn’t particularly scary. In fact, he felt that it could even serve as a nice break.
Finally, the nurse was also extremely comforting for… other reasons. She giggled at most of his jokes (even though they were awful… but Red didn’t know that), flirted with him, and made him nice and comfortable, even though he was chained to his own bed. Finally, after about fifteen or twenty minutes, the doctor left him, her, and the guard alone.
Suddenly the guard made eye contact with the nurse and there was some sort of exchange. That was… odd. But then, Red recognized the guard. An inside man. He’d trained the guy himself eight or nine months ago.
But what could a nurse have to do with the Rainbow Gang…?
He looked at the nurse, perplexed. “Who are you?”
She giggled. “I can’t believe you don’t recognize me! Although, I shouldn’t get offended.”
Her voice suddenly altered and became harsh, masculine, and deep. “Most people don’t…”
Red was still dumbfounded.
“I just change so much,” she said in her normal voice (but perhaps not so high pitched and flirty as before), “I can hardly recognize myself.” She sighed.
“So you’re Blue? I thought Blue was a dude,” said Red.
“I can be… but, no, I’m not. Biologically speaking. Anyways, I’ve been sent to have a quick chat with you.”
Red nodded.
“Orange is upset. Very upset.”
“What for? I did what he asked. Tried to kill Mrs. Pickles.”
“He doesn’t want you to draw attention to ourselves as we kill him. We’re not ready for that yet. Only afterwards.”
“Well, I saw an opportunity and I took it. He confronted me.”
“We know. That was another one of the many issues.”
“So what? I’ve never been the most secretive member of this gang before. Why is this becoming an issue now?”
“Sure, people would look at you and expect you were a gangster. How did this guy figure out the location of a leader? You got cocky. And you lost. You lost hard. And that loss is humiliating. We can’t suffer from this loss of respect amongst our members. I’m sure you of all people would understand the importance of human resources. After all, you used to be in charge of them.”
“Used to? Hold on. I am in charge of this. I’m part of the structure. You can’t just toss me in prison!”
“I never said you’d live long enough to get to prison.”
Two minutes later, the doctor returned, surprised to find Red’s corpse peacefully resting on the bed. The guard and nurse had both vanished without a trace.
Almost immediately afterwards, the doctor sprinted into the room containing Ventus and the paramedics.
“The man that Mrs. Pickles was fighting is dead. He was injected with a slew of medications that killed him. I think the nurse and his guard may have been involved somehow.”
“That’s the one we just hired, isn’t it?” asked the calm paramedic.
The doctor nodded vigorously. The calm paramedic cursed. “She could be anywhere right now…” he muttered.
...
Blue examined her fingernails as the guard drove her towards her apartment. Things had gone well. She just needed a call from-
Her phone vibrated. Blue smiled. There it was.
"Hello, Orange," said Blue.
"Talk." The voice was raspy.
"Red failed, as you know. I handled him. I tried to sneak in and have Mrs. Pickles inhale some cyanide gas, and that might have killed him. I wouldn't bet on it though. That moron was flailing around like a fish, and Ventus had an eye on him."
"Then as far as I'm concerned, he's still alive. I've been studying the S Classes for awhile. I am not willing to deal with Ventus as an enemy. The storm has been over for a long time. But the clouds are back in the sky. I’ll get the children indoors. Does Ventus have the note?”
“No.”
“Good.” Orange hung up.
Blue frowned. She hated the code. It was so overcomplicated. She understood the need for secrecy, but Orange was just too thorough sometimes.
She sighed and looked at the piece of paper she had snagged off of the floor when Ventus wasn’t looking. Thank goodness she had picked it up. She opened it up. It was a note to Clarence, to come forward and exchange himself for the safety of the twins. He had tried to confront them instead, walked right up to Red (how that incompetent moron actually found Red was a mystery) and, if he ever regained consciousness, he would wake up with his head under a guillotine. Orange and her weren’t the only ones who would see to that.
@SpookySquid I'm not sure what I'd respond to. We're not out of the ambulance and I'm not entirely sure where you're going with the cyanide.
The paper on the ground, reaction to knowing cyanide was on the ambulance, maybe using powers of the winds to get fresh air in there, having an NPC deliver gas masks, etc. Whatever's you want. If you can't think of anything I'll expand on the post. Still got to respond to Sunshine, but I can't for a while- too busy.
@Melkor
I'll make a response to Evan soon, and detail what happened to Red, but for now this should be enough for Melkor to have something to do.
I'll make a response to Evan soon, and detail what happened to Red, but for now this should be enough for Melkor to have something to do.
Paramedics flocked around Mrs. Pickles, bandaging wounds and stabilizing broken bones as he was loaded into the ambulance and placed in a stretcher. Clarence remained conscious, writhing in pain, until a paramedic administered an anesthetic.
Clarence realized that the paramedic was putting him under, and squirmed slightly. He moved his hand to his pocket and shakily removed his wallet. He opened it up and grasped something within it, and then dropped the wallet to the ground. He was trying to speak, but couldn’t because of his broken jaw. An EMT retrieved the wallet, but whatever Clarence had grasped had fluttered towards Ventus and landed near his feet. It was a folded up piece of paper. There was red splotches on it, and the edges appeared singed. Clarence squirmed a tad more, but it was no use. He fell asleep before the ambulance driver began to make his way towards the hospital.
“Broken lower jaw, broken femur, broken ribs… shattered ribs. I’m almost certain he has damaged lungs. Major blood loss,” muttered a paramedic. “Start with the lungs,” he said to one of the other paramedics. Ventus noticed the ambulance was somewhat crammed and hectic.
A paramedic placed an oxygen mask over Mrs. Pickle’s mouth. One paramedic -- the one who had been muttering earlier -- lifted his hand to hush the other paramedics and listened closely.
“He’s not breathing,” he said, with a surprising amount of calm. Then, he stopped again. “No, no, he’s breathing. Slowly. Too slowly.”
Oxygen was pumped into Clarence’s body. The calm paramedic frowned.
“This doesn’t make any sense. Why is his heart…”
Clarence began to seize violently, and one paramedic pinned him down as the calm one spoke deliberately. “His heart's going to stop. Or try to. He’s-”
The calm paramedic shuddered, and then cursed. “Who gave him anesthetic?”
None of the paramedics responded as Clarence continued to seize.
“I SAID, WHO GAVE HIM ANESTHETIC?!?”
None of the paramedics said anything.
“It was that one guy. You know, the bigger one. I thought you knew him. I thought he was on here. Guess he didn’t ride on the ambulance.”
The handful of paramedics in the ambulance briefly debated about the man who administered the anesthetics, but the calm paramedic quickly got everyone to be silent as Clarence continued to seize.
Clarence’s heart suddenly shut down, and the calm paramedic quickly performed CPR. The others did everything they could to help, and finally, right as they arrived at the hospital, Clarence was relatively stable. The paramedics were about to leave, but the calm paramedic stopped them and turned towards the driver. “Level B,” he said. The driver turned back. “I’ll get someone to bring masks.” The driver made a phone call. Afterwards, the driver of the ambulance turned back towards the calm paramedic. “Erm… may I ask why we’re all about to throw on gas masks?” he asked.
“Because Mrs. Pickles was just exposed to a great deal of cyanide… and we might have been too.”
“Cyanide?” asked the driver. The paramedic nodded. “Three clues. One, someone mysterious gave him an anesthetic. I have a hunch this was someone in disguise. Two, his heart stopped and he seized, both common side effects of cyanide expose. Thirdly, I don’t know if any of you can smell it, but it reeks of bitter almonds in here.”
Clarence realized that the paramedic was putting him under, and squirmed slightly. He moved his hand to his pocket and shakily removed his wallet. He opened it up and grasped something within it, and then dropped the wallet to the ground. He was trying to speak, but couldn’t because of his broken jaw. An EMT retrieved the wallet, but whatever Clarence had grasped had fluttered towards Ventus and landed near his feet. It was a folded up piece of paper. There was red splotches on it, and the edges appeared singed. Clarence squirmed a tad more, but it was no use. He fell asleep before the ambulance driver began to make his way towards the hospital.
“Broken lower jaw, broken femur, broken ribs… shattered ribs. I’m almost certain he has damaged lungs. Major blood loss,” muttered a paramedic. “Start with the lungs,” he said to one of the other paramedics. Ventus noticed the ambulance was somewhat crammed and hectic.
A paramedic placed an oxygen mask over Mrs. Pickle’s mouth. One paramedic -- the one who had been muttering earlier -- lifted his hand to hush the other paramedics and listened closely.
“He’s not breathing,” he said, with a surprising amount of calm. Then, he stopped again. “No, no, he’s breathing. Slowly. Too slowly.”
Oxygen was pumped into Clarence’s body. The calm paramedic frowned.
“This doesn’t make any sense. Why is his heart…”
Clarence began to seize violently, and one paramedic pinned him down as the calm one spoke deliberately. “His heart's going to stop. Or try to. He’s-”
The calm paramedic shuddered, and then cursed. “Who gave him anesthetic?”
None of the paramedics responded as Clarence continued to seize.
“I SAID, WHO GAVE HIM ANESTHETIC?!?”
None of the paramedics said anything.
“It was that one guy. You know, the bigger one. I thought you knew him. I thought he was on here. Guess he didn’t ride on the ambulance.”
The handful of paramedics in the ambulance briefly debated about the man who administered the anesthetics, but the calm paramedic quickly got everyone to be silent as Clarence continued to seize.
Clarence’s heart suddenly shut down, and the calm paramedic quickly performed CPR. The others did everything they could to help, and finally, right as they arrived at the hospital, Clarence was relatively stable. The paramedics were about to leave, but the calm paramedic stopped them and turned towards the driver. “Level B,” he said. The driver turned back. “I’ll get someone to bring masks.” The driver made a phone call. Afterwards, the driver of the ambulance turned back towards the calm paramedic. “Erm… may I ask why we’re all about to throw on gas masks?” he asked.
“Because Mrs. Pickles was just exposed to a great deal of cyanide… and we might have been too.”
“Cyanide?” asked the driver. The paramedic nodded. “Three clues. One, someone mysterious gave him an anesthetic. I have a hunch this was someone in disguise. Two, his heart stopped and he seized, both common side effects of cyanide expose. Thirdly, I don’t know if any of you can smell it, but it reeks of bitter almonds in here.”
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