The Writers Guild Presents #46 - December, 2014

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Hey there, everyone! This is one of the things I've been wanting to get to with The Writers Guild Presents: "trade paperbacks." I want to do some compilations of some of the multi-chapter stories The WGP has featured in the past, because let's face it- they're pretty great. I think they deserve to be collected all into one thread, and I hope to be switching back-and-forth, between new material and old. I couldn't think of anyone better to start off with than ImpurestCheese, as she has contributed more stories to The WGP than any other writer on the board. Best known in WGP for the excellent "Patron Saint of Crime," this tale is one that will give you a great idea of just what kind of story she can tell. Enjoy. -cb

Marvel Mayhem: Crimson #1, by ImpurestCheese

No Caption Provided

The stained glass windows of the ‘Sky Top Wedding Chapel’ smashed open. A blur of gold and red threw the stain of scarlet out the window before stopping; the familiar form of Iron Man perched on the top of Las Vegas’ tallest casino as his foe fell to the ground.

“I know what you're thinking,” the scarlet-armoured form of the Crimson Dynamo thought as he fell to the earth, his armour leaving a crater in the steps outside the tower. “That Iron Man has saved the world from the Soviet menace once again. Well you'd be half right. I’m certain that is the Iron Man armour, although the pilot lacks the typical arrogance Stark has. That should give you pause for thought. Who is this man and what history do we have?” he mused as Iron Man landed, his repulsors charged up and ready to fire.

No Caption Provided

“Alright, Ivan, tonight I rid the world of the legacy of terror you've brought to our shores,” Iron Man hissed coldly. “Tonight is the day you die!”

“Again, I'm certain this isn't Stark. I knew I had this coming the day I left Mother Russia, so death isn't a surprise. I just hope this ends with me. My life in America has been hard but worthwhile; I have a job, friends who treat me with respect, a house, and even a car, not that I use it. I know you're surprised, you always seem surprised. It didn't start like that, but to get to the good memories, you must go through the bad ones. So I begin my last rendition of my life, not in Russia - as fitting as that would be - but in the same spot I'm about to be murdered in: right here on these steps.”

***

Five Months Earlier

Dimitri Bukharin finished polishing the last remaining spot of grime off the hood of the lime green Lotus Elise, before standing back to admire his work. He was finished for the day and had managed to restore several filthy sports cars back to their former glory. “Ironic, if my superiors could see me now, they wouldn't recognise me, but then that’s the point of my disguise,” he thought as he flicked strands of long, black hair from his face. “If people knew that a former terrorist was washing their cars, there would be panic. It’s a good thing I changed my name as well, or I wouldn't even have been able to get this job.”

“Yuri!” A voice barked, and Dimitri turned to see Matt, his potbellied supervisor, roll over to where he was standing. “Good work, as usual! I’m glad I changed my mind on hiring you,” he added before stuffing a wad of bills into Dimitri’s overalls. “You're a hard worker, and efficient, not to mention you have a gift with cars.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri answered. “It comes from years of cleaning the Crimson Dynamo armour, just to qualify for selection process to pilot the suit,” he thought, as a Latino woman in similar overalls trotted over from the Porsche 911 she was cleaning.

“Ah, Angela, here you go. The interiors were slightly rushed, but it was good enough,” Matt stated, handing her a smaller amount of money. “Mr Brant wants to see you before you leave,” he added, as he held out a box before waving it in the car cleaning team’s face. A collective groan left their mouths as they dropped all the keys inside. “Now get lost!” He ordered before rolling back to the valet office.

“That guy is a serious tool,” Angela sighed in her Chilean accent.

Dimitri laughed, “Yes, he is certainly some kind of wrench,” he answered, causing a smile to creep across Angela’s face. “I see no problems with the interiors you cleaned,” he added, before removing a third of his pay from the bundle he had been given, and passing it to her. “For you, my comrade.”

“Oh, Yuri, you know I can’t accept it,” Angela sighed, before giving Dimitri a hug, “but thank you for the offer. I’ll just…work an extra shift or something on the weekends. I’ll be fine.”

No Caption Provided

“I understand,” Dimitri answered. “Maybe I should make conversation with Matt; talk about expenses and the like.”

“No, you'll only get yourself fired,” Angela gasped. “I have not made a lot of friends since I moved here after my parents died. I don't want to lose you as well,” she added as they meandered through the maze of parked cars, to the maintenance entrance. “Please don't say anything.”

“I promise,” Dimitri told her before crossing his heart. Together, they walked into the employee area, only to see a man dressed in hunting leathers, armed with an AR14 rifle. He was keeping a bead on several employees and their boss, Mr. Brandt, whose face sported several bruises.

“Sit down and shut up!” the man ordered, gesturing for Dimitri and Angela to join their colleagues. “More immigrants, Mister Brandt? Where do these ones come from? While you hire this collection of carpet baggers, terrorists, and thieves, American citizens have to stay unemployed. You settled for cheap labour while your own people starve! How can you live with yourself?”

“I assure you I employ several American workers,” Mr. Brandt stated. “All positions are offered to multiple races, and I make sure not to discriminate against someone, because of their age, sex, religion, or where they come from.”

“Liar!!” the hostage taker bellowed as he popped a red pill, and took a swig from the bottle of water attached to his belt. “I know you prefer cheap immigrants to paying hard working American workers! These people are stealing our livelihoods, and you have the gall to say you don’t discriminate?!”

Dimitri looked at Brandt before turning his attention to the hostage taker. In close combat, the AR14 was a deadly weapon- one that could cause a lot of damage, but the man seemed not to realize that in this space, it would only take a few seconds for an attacker to cross the distance and reach him. In addition, he didn't seem to actively notice anybody other than Brandt. Still, there was a danger, and as a trained soldier, Dimitri recognised it when the man popped another red pill.

“Listen, you are not well,” Brandt stated. “You need a doctor; we have an in house medical centre if you want to lie down.”

“Shut up! These pills make it all make sense!!!” the hostage taker screamed. “The Imperial Forces own this country, and there is no place for effing immigrants on American shore!!” he bellowed, before momentarily taking his finger off the trigger. In that time Dimitri charged, tackling the man to the ground and knocking his weapon away. The other employees scattered once the gun was out of play. With a grunt, the man threw Dimitri off him, the thickset Russian smacking into the wall with a crack. “You think you can stop me?!!” he yelled, as Dimitri got to his feet. “While I have these, I'm like a freight train and nobody can stop me!!” he bellowed, as he slammed a fist into his target’s face, sending him sprawling to the floor. “I am the voice of the American People!!”

“You are about to burn out,” Dimitri stated before the man slammed his boot into the Russian’s chest. “You don't understand what those things do to your body.”

“I know enough!!” the hostage taker hissed, spittle running down his cheeks. “Commander Simpson told me they make me strong, make me unstoppable, and that my mission was to liberate America from those people who wanted to destroy our homes and way of life!” he yelled. Dimitri grabbed him by the leg and toppled him, before placing his knees on the man’s arms, and an elbow against his neck, removing the pot of pills.

“Your commander is sending you out to die!” Dimitri explained, as he forced a blue pill down the man’s throat. “You were to be a martyr for his cause. He wanted you to throw--” Before he could finish, the man kicked him off, grabbing the AR14 from the floor. His hands trembled as he aimed at Dimitri.

No Caption Provided

“FBI! Both of you, hands up!” a stern voice announced, causing both men to turn and look at the speaker. Armed with a 9mm, and a badge displaying the logo of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, was Angela. “Gun down, now!” she ordered as the man turned back to face Dimitri.

“He'll kill me,” the hostage taker grunted. “Better to die for the cause, than die because of it.” He yelled as he turned to face Angela. The force of the bullets tore through his body, slamming him to the floor.

“He was calming down, the medication…”

“Not a chance I was willing to take,” Angela announced. “I will need you to give an eye witness statement Mr Bukharin.”

“How did you…”

“…know who you are? Did you really think we wouldn't keep an eye on you Crimson Dynamo? I have orders to make sure you didn't get involved in anything criminal, but this…let’s just say you just bought yourself a one way ticket back to Mother Russia.”

Marvel Mayhem: Crimson #2, by ImpurestCheese

No Caption Provided

The occupants of the car watched as the man clad in irons was led by FBI agents into the waiting Lear Jet. A few minutes later the plane was taxiing down the runway, and took off heading west towards the California coastline.

“Who was that man?” a thickset man with a Russian accent asked, as the driver reversed the car and headed back towards the Vegas strip.

“A low level criminal that works for the crime lord, Alexander Lukin,” Angela replied. “He’s wanted in Russia for supplying arms to Ultranationalist rebels. While the government and SHIELD have placed an order to have you extradited, from what the Bureau has seen, you are to be treated more like a potential asset than a threat.”

“So I am not being sent back to Russia?” Dimitri asked.

“Oh, as you have just seen, Dimitri Bukharin is being extradited; the arrest of Yuri Vikenti was a case of mistaken identity,” Angela explained. “Please understand that the FBI is regretful for any stress you have experienced in the past six hours.”

“Stress? Do you know what they would do to me for deserting the armed forces with a dangerous and classified piece of tech?!” Dimitri spat. “I’d be lucky if it took ten years for them to kill me!”

No Caption Provided

“You…you still have the Crimson Dynamo armour?” Angela gasped, before heading to the suburbs. “We had no idea. Originally, our surveillance was looking for a man called the Crime Master; a big time criminal who controls two thirds of the organised crime syndicates based on the Vegas strip. Our initial assumption was that Bennett Brand was a business front, although we have long since discarded the idea of him having any real involvement with the Crime Master.”

“What does that have to do with the attack earlier this evening?” Dimitri asked.

“Maybe nothing,” Angela answered. “We have a search out for an ex-marine, Frank Simpson, but his records are sealed by a project called Weapon Plus. We were hoping that you could tell us something about the pills the gunman was taking. That’s why we chose now to pull you in.”

“It is hard to explain,” Dimitri replied as Angela’s face dropped, “but maybe I can show you.”

***

The blacked out BMW stopped outside a ramshackle house in the suburbs, and Dimitri stepped out of the car, followed by Angela. Fishing into his pockets, he brought out a key and unlocked the door before holding it open so his company could enter. Turning on the lights revealed a spartan home, with little inside besides the furnishings and the peeling wallpaper.

“Wow I sort of imagined…” Angela gasped. “You live here?”

“Da,” Dimitri replied. “Best home I've ever had, and the only one not bugged by the KGB,” he added as he walked over to the TV, carefully slid the glass out, and removed a second set of keys. “Only thing worth stealing is in the garage,” he added as he led Angela through a clean kitchen, to a reinforced door with no lock. Taking the key, Dimitri twisted the handle, and activated a tiny pen laser that he shown at three sensors on the wall. With a hiss, the door opened up to reveal the hulking form of the Crimson Dynamo armour.

“Holy Mary mother of God,” Angela swore.

“What? You look as if you had never seen something like this before?” Dimitri asked. “When KGB records list you as White Tiger.”

“How did you…? I was, but after Shadowland, the things I did made me feel less than heroic so I handed over the costume, the amulets, and everything else,” Angela stated. “Luckily, I had my old job to fall back on, although I feel that I don't deserve it. So you brought me here to show something about those pills? Is the armour part of it, or just a backdrop?”

No Caption Provided

“All Crimson Dynamo armor shares a central archive so pilots can learn from mistakes in the field. Former pilot Alex Nevsky encountered and recorded a similar occurrence in Vietnam when serving in Titanic Three. We can watch video of it, sit back and eat popcorn; I think I have some in my larder.”

Angela cracked a half smile. “You were trying a little too hard to be American there,” she stated coyly.

“Soon, I will be American; I will take citizen test, quit job and open a small garage, just like it says in the American Dream,” Dimitri told her, before giving a short chuckle. Then he tapped a command into the Crimson Dynamo armour.

“You hiring?” Angela asked, as part of the wall retracted and revealed a TV screen. A flickering warning appeared in Cyrillic as the data was streamed from the armour’s memory onto the screen.

***

Rainforest of Vietnam - 1962

“Nevsky, hurry up,” a Russian accented voice stated. The video camera operator moved through the thick brush and emerged into a clearing full of ripped up trees and putrefying corpses.

“You know, I'm envious of you,” the glowing figure of the Radioactive Man sighed. “With your sealed helmets, you can't smell what I can.”

“The sight is bad enough, Doctor Lu,” Nevsky answered. “Bullski, you have most experience in combat. What happened here?”

“The bodies are of Viet Cong fighters and American Gis,” Bullski stated from the thickset Titanium Man armour. “They were both firing in the same direction, and whatever it was shot back. The damage to the trees was caused by .50 calibre rounds shot at a height of four feet above the ground; too low for an armoured vehicle, and the weapon itself would be too heavy to be fired in such a way by a normal human.”

“I'm picking up faint radiological signals as well,” Dr. Lu announced. “It could be a gamma powered creature that did this, although the dosage is too low for a creature like the Hulk.”

No Caption Provided

“Hmm, pinpoint the source,” Bullski ordered. “I will correlate the wound patterns, and determine if any other weapon was involved. Nevsky, keep watch; the person responsible could return, and we have a duty to the North Vietnamese government to keep her people safe from criminals.”

“Da, comrade Bullski,” Nevsky replied as he walked between where Dr. Lu was searching and where Bullski was scanning bodies. Looking down, he saw a corpse twitch, and bent down, rolling the man over to see his face was tattooed with the image of the American flag. “Over here, this one is alive,” he called.

“Hmm, trace levels of radioactive isotope. It appears to be similar to the one used to create derivatives of Project Legacy; this man is an attempt to create a super soldier,” Dr. Chen stated. “And look, there is the weapon he used to kill all these people. It’s obvious why he would be fighting the Viet Cong, but not his own men, unless the tattoo is meant to be ironic.”

“Maybe the process made him unstable,” Bullski suggested. “The question is what do we do with him? He is now a prisoner and an asset, but not one that would be of use to the Soviet Union or Red China. Yet I am unwilling to send him back to the Americans, lest they set their monster loose again.”

“Wait, he’s trying to speak,” Nevsky hissed, as the man reached for a pouch slung over his shoulders.

“Red to go up, white to calm, and blue to sleep. Need a red. No VC,” the fallen soldier murmured as he reached for a red pill. Aggressively, Bullski struck him before pushing a blue pill down his throat, and throwing the weapon into the bushes.

“There must be something we can do,” Nevsky asked. “He would be killed if he were imprisoned here, and we promised not to kill without reason.”

“What about the Avengers?” Dr. Lu sighed. “As much as I hate them, they are not federated, and could contain him in one of their super gulags. And if he does escape, he will be their problem,” he added, a smile on his face.

“Da, a good idea, Doctor Lu,” Nevsky stated. “I will call Iron Man and bring him here. Until then, keep him calm with the pills, and out of sight,” he stated as the camera turned off.

***

Las Vegas - Present Day

“My god!” Angela gasped. “Everyone was in on it; the Avengers, the Army, probably SHIELD too.”

“One question that needs asking. One that Nevsky, Lu and Bullski didn't get an answer to,” Dimitri stated. “Where did the Avengers put the mad soldier, and who has control of him now?”

Marvel Mayhem: Crimson #3, by ImpurestCheese

No Caption Provided

Dimitri and Angela stopped outside the Las Vegas branch of the Bar With No Name; a hole in the wall that shook as the patrons drowned their sins in the bottom of their beer glasses. “I thought this place was in New York?” Angela asked.

No Caption Provided

Nyet.* After Scourge bombed the establishment in New York, the bartender packed up shop and moved down here,” Dimitri told her. “As your American movies say, ‘never before will you see a viler hive of scum and villainy.’”

“I still don’t understand why I have to wear this costume?” Angela asked as she placed an armoured mask on her face that matched the jet-black bodysuit she was wearing. “Do I even look like Black Racer?”

“Enough to confuse the drunks,” Dimitri answered as he flexed his armoured shoulders. “We’re looking for a man called The Profile. He knows everything that’s going on in this city.”

“And the fact that there are going to be some of the worst criminals in the world between him and us?” Angela asked as Dimitri opened the door for her.

“Please. None of the clients are anything close to being the big players of the villain world,” Dimitri answered as they reached the metal detectors in the foyer of the bar. Leaning on the counter, Dimitri turned and glared at the coat-check girl as she sat there open mouthed. “See, if I’m the biggest villain here, then the others are no problem,” he told Angela as she strutted through the metal detectors into the main bar. All around the bar were drinking super villains, each of them seemingly unaware of who had just walked into the room.

“Okay, where is this guy?” Angela asked, as Dr. Sax and Johnny Guitar started to strike up the band, and play their latest hit from their new album, Dazzle Dayz.

“Over there,” Dimitri stated, as he spotted a man sitting in the shadow with a lit cigarette in his hand. “We just have to make sure…”

“Oh wow! You’re the Crimson Dynamo!!” a voice called as Gamecock walked out of the men’s room. “Hey guys, look who’s here.”

“Nothing like that happens?” Angela asked. “You said that you’re the most dangerous man in the room; have fun while I talk to The Profile,” she added as the various low level criminals gathered around him.

No Caption Provided

“Listen, guys, I can’t talk. I’m in the middle of a…” He stopped as something small crawled up onto his shoulder, and he saw the muzzle of a gun swim into view.

“Talk?” Gamecock snorted. “Somebody is paying us good money to remove non-American criminals from the area, Ruskie.”

“I thought you were citizen of Madripoor?” Dimitri asked as he surveyed the room. He recognised a lot of the criminals as low level thugs and bail jumpers; he wouldn’t even need his weapons to deal with these jokers. Still, words and money were deadlier weapons in this situation. “How much is your employer paying you?” he asked. “Is it worth tussling with somebody like me?”

Gamecock looked at the others before turning to where Angela was talking to The Profile’s bodyguard in the corner. “Hey, Black Racer!!” he yelled. “There’s two million a piece on this guy’s dome! You want in?” he asked.

“Uh, sure,” Angela answered as she walked over. “Whoa, that’s the Crimson Dynamo! You sure we can take him?” she asked.

“Oh, we can take him!” a tall man with a scar running over his eye hissed. “Name’s Big Wheel, and this motley gang is my crew: The Wheels of Injustice. Ain’t nothing personal, Red. It’s just business,” he added.

“Da, so is this,” Dimitri sighed before shaking his head, and knocking off the diminutive Elf who was holding a gun at his head. Before he could move any further, the rest of the villains dogpiled him, the majority only holding on for a few seconds before being flung off, save for the snake-headed felon known as Slither. Unhinging his mouth, the villain bit down on the armoured helmet of the Crimson Dynamo armour, his fangs splintering before receiving a punch from Angela.

“Okay, partner, it’s two-on-eight, so who exactly are we dealing with?” she asked. A woman armed with swords slashed at her, only for the undercover agent to slip under her guard, and push her back into the ranks of The Wheels of Injustice.

“Big Wheel appears to be the leader; the others are Gamecock, Slither, Elf with a Gun, Porcupine, Eel, and what appear to be new versions of Screaming Mimi and Coldheart,” Dimitri answered as he slammed a fist into the Eel’s jaw, sending him flailing to the floor. “Curious; I thought the Eel was in prison after that fiasco in New York.”

“I was, but an unknown benefactor paid my bail,” The Eel hissed, as Angela kicked the Elf with a Gun into Gamecock; the pair of thugs toppling to the floor.

“This is so unfair,” Porcupine whined as he tackled Dimitri, forcing him away from the Eel. “We only joined because we needed the money to start our own radio series in the back room of the bar.”

“Maybe you should have just said no and got a job,” Dimitri answered as he removed a pair of embedded quills from his armour.

No Caption Provided

“Shut up and do what I tell you!!” Big Wheel roared as he ran out of the bar. “Hold them in place so I can turn them into roadkill,” he ordered as Screaming Mimi let out an ear-splitting moan that drowned out the sounds of the band.

“Hey b***h!!” Johnny yelled as Sax nodded to him. “Stop horning in on our gig!!” he ordered before striking a power cord that sent the members of The Wheels of Injustice scuttling backwards.

“Cowards!!” Gamecock yelled as the floor started to rumble, and the Big Wheel smashed through the front of the building. Freezing like a rabbit caught in headlights, Gamecock stood stock still as the Wheel slammed into him, and the force of the blow sent him crashing into the bar. Spinning around, the Big Wheel locked onto Dimitri and charged straight at him, his target standing stock still as he got closer.

“Dimitri, move!!” Angela yelled as she dived out the way. Beneath his helmet Dimitri smiled, before sidestepping the speeding wheel and ripping the gyroscope out, the damage causing the big wheel to fall on its side with a thud.

“Anyone else?” Dimitri asked, as the rest of The Wheels of Injusticepulled the wincing form of Big Wheel out of the wreckage.

No Caption Provided

“This isn’t over!!” Big Wheel snarled as his teammates dragged him away, leaving Gamecock slouched against the bar. As they left, the sound of sarcastic applause sounded, and both Angela and Dimitri turned to see The Profile clapping as he walked towards them.

“For a show like that, the information is on the house,” The Profile stated as he lit up a second cigarette. “Or what’s left of it. That address is where Simpson’s drug source can be found. But I’d be careful if I were you.”

“Careful?” Angela asked. “What do you know that you’re not telling us about?”

“Let’s just say Simpson’s partners have some very advanced ideas about the product he’s shifting,” The Profile stated as he took a long drag on his cigarette. “Very advanced indeed.”

*Nyet is Russian for "no." -editor cb (I've always wanted to do that)
No Caption Provided

Merry Christmas from me, and happy holidays of whatever kind for the rest of you! See you sometime in January for #47. Until then, if you want to submit something, new or old, just contact me in PM- it's really that simple. Don't forget to check out the other stories in the Fan-Fic forum. Thanks for stopping in, and thanks for reading. -cb

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tbe

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#4 BumpyBoo  Moderator
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#6 BumpyBoo  Moderator

@cbishop: Used to?? That's Cap-ist, that is. Check your privilege, Bish XD

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@bumpyboo: Me Cap-ist? Me?!He's the one who called me hopscotch! And now...not you too, Bumpy'....not you too! <sob>

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@bumpyboo said:

@cbishop: Sure thing, hopscotch >:P

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES! HA! HA!

I'm tearing up right now.

@cbishop said:

@bumpyboo: Me Cap-ist? Me?!He's the one who called me hopscotch! And now...not you too, Bumpy'....not you too! <sob>

I swear hopscotch, one more word.

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#9 BumpyBoo  Moderator

@bumpyboo said:

@cbishop: Sure thing, hopscotch >:P

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES! HA! HA!

I'm tearing up right now.

This isn't even the first time ^___^

I swear hopscotch, one more word.

*deep pride*

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@bumpyboo said:

@capfanboy said:

@bumpyboo said:

@cbishop: Sure thing, hopscotch >:P

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES! HA! HA!

I'm tearing up right now.

This isn't even the first time ^___^

Why am I becoming aware of this now?! Links, woman! LINKS!

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#11 BumpyBoo  Moderator

@capfanboy: Links? That might take a bit, I've been calling him that pretty much since you started (poor fella puts up with so much crap from us though, what a gent XD)

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@bumpyboo said:

@capfanboy: Links? That might take a bit, I've been calling him that pretty much since you started (poor fella puts up with so much crap from us though, what a gent XD)

Examples at least, I mean, come on....

What a bishop.

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#13 BumpyBoo  Moderator

@bumpyboo said:

@capfanboy: Links? That might take a bit, I've been calling him that pretty much since you started (poor fella puts up with so much crap from us though, what a gent XD)

Examples at least, I mean, come on....

What a bishop.

But...but that takes effort and I'm all boozy *pleads with eyes*

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@bumpyboo said:

@capfanboy said:

@bumpyboo said:

@capfanboy: Links? That might take a bit, I've been calling him that pretty much since you started (poor fella puts up with so much crap from us though, what a gent XD)

Examples at least, I mean, come on....

What a bishop.

But...but that takes effort and I'm all boozy *pleads with eyes*

Waitaminute, aren't you a mod?

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#15 BumpyBoo  Moderator

@bumpyboo said:

@capfanboy said:

@bumpyboo said:

@capfanboy: Links? That might take a bit, I've been calling him that pretty much since you started (poor fella puts up with so much crap from us though, what a gent XD)

Examples at least, I mean, come on....

What a bishop.

But...but that takes effort and I'm all boozy *pleads with eyes*

Waitaminute, aren't you a mod?

Don't say that like you aren't already fully aware of it :P Whats' your point....?

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@bumpyboo said:

@capfanboy said:

Waitaminute, aren't you a mod?

Don't say that like you aren't already fully aware of it :P Whats' your point....?

Shouldn't you provide a positive role model for the innumerable 14 year olds who come here to share their angst and love of spite threads?

In other words, stop drinking you alcoholic.

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@bumpyboo said:

But...but that takes effort and I'm all boozy *pleads with eyes*

In other words, stop drinking you alcoholic.

That's it- if I have to be Hopscotch, then I'm calling her BumpyBoozy from now on. >:P

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#18 BumpyBoo  Moderator

@bumpyboo said:

@capfanboy said:

Waitaminute, aren't you a mod?

Don't say that like you aren't already fully aware of it :P Whats' your point....?

Shouldn't you provide a positive role model for the innumerable 14 year olds who come here to share their angst and love of spite threads?

In other words, stop drinking you alcoholic.

But I am a positive role model! Kinda. Sorta. Ish....>_>

@cbishop said:
@bumpyboo said:

But...but that takes effort and I'm all boozy *pleads with eyes*

@capfanboy said:

In other words, stop drinking you alcoholic.

That's it- if I have to be Hopscotch, then I'm calling her BumpyBoozy from now on. >:P

Well, the gloves are off now! O_O

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#20  Edited By cbishop

@impurestcheese said:

@cbishop: Thanks for this, it's much appreciated

@capfanboy: @bumpyboo: Wow not a word on what was written here. That's kind of sad

No problem, Imp', you deserve it, and don't worry- Cap' 'n' BumpyBoozy were just funnin'. ;)

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@bumpyboo said:

Well, the gloves are off now! O_O

You put those gloves back on right now, young lady! No gloves- no loves!

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#22 wildvine  Moderator

Well deserved spotlight.

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@wildvine said:

Well deserved spotlight.

Indeed.

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@impurestcheese: Slight tweak: It looked a little weird with the five MM:Crimson banners together like that, and the spoiler links weren't standing out. I was afraid someone might look at the page and wonder, "Where the heck is the story?" if they weren't familiar with CV. So I did "Header 2" banners, which makes the spoiler links stand out. The issue banners are now in the spoiler boxes. This will likely be how I do all future "compilation" issues. :)

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@cbishop said:
@bumpyboo said:

But...but that takes effort and I'm all boozy *pleads with eyes*

@capfanboy said:

In other words, stop drinking you alcoholic.

That's it- if I have to be Hopscotch, then I'm calling her BumpyBoozy from now on. >:P

Now that's just too far hoppy. That's too damn far.

@cbishop said:

@bumpyboo said:

Well, the gloves are off now! O_O

You put those gloves back on right now, young lady! No gloves- no loves!

Didn't I just say something about positive role models?

@cbishop said:

@impurestcheese said:

@capfanboy: @bumpyboo: Wow not a word on what was written here. That's kind of sad

No problem, Imp', you deserve it, and don't worry- Cap' 'n' BumpyBoozy were just funnin'. ;)

Were we though? Were we? *conspiracy glare*

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@capfanboy: You're late. Joke's over. Go unwrap some presents. Or stay and comment on Imp's stories.

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@cbishop said:

@capfanboy: You're late. Joke's over. Go unwrap some presents. Or stay and comment on Imp's stories.

The joke is never over. Not for you, hopscotch, not for you.

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@capfanboy: We had our fun- quit derailing the thread.

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@cbishop: Thanks just got in from cutting the fungus infected ash tree in the next town over.