Notice: The title given to this article is incorrect due to technical limitations. The correct title is “The Great VSP/WASTE Saga, Part III, Chapter 2.”
The Great VSP Saga:
Revenge of the Good Guys
"Uh... Phoenix? I don't think the Posse got the coordinates," said Typhoon, upon seeing that they were the first to arrive at Auspex Studios.
"I can see that, dammit! God, I really wish that whatever narrator we have would help us out a bit more," retorted Phoenix.
"Well if they're not here, then where ARE they?" asked Zeratul.
"Hold on, let me track them," said Fenrir, who for a long time had been sitting quietly. "Hmm... let's see... last known coordinates... Pacific Coast. Oh God, they're on the other side of the country for God's sake!"
"Well then, they'll just have to skip the meeting with the TAC Staff." And the crew began to walk out of the Hyperion.
The Vancouver Street Posse was back on their turf. For all those no-brainers who exist only to not understand me, that would be Vancouver. They made it out of The Rez without incident and dropped their numerous and zany weapons at the Headquarters (which was, in lack of any other location, Codebreaker's basement). Unarmed, the VSP headed out to the streets of Vancouver where they'd find out what was happening while they were off saving reality itself. That wasn't a very significant feat, though, seeing as how reality can't even be ripped apart, because then whatever was used to "rip" reality apart becomes unreal, thus, it never happened.
*Ahem* Anyways, the Posse walked in a dramatic side-by-side line down the empty streets of Vancouver.
"Hey," said Mack, "Did he just say 'Empty?'"
Yes, Mack, empty. The usually busy and run-amok air of Vancouver had simply disappeared, leaving the only sign of movement (other than our heroes, of course) to be tumbleweeds used to emphasis the ghost-towniness of the scene. I know, it's a cheap trick, but it works.
"The Paradigm Posse incident at the dance wasn't THAT horrid, was it?" asked Spooky.
"No, I don't think that's what's keeping everyone away," replied Endarire.
"Well, either way, there's nobody around here," stated Lambda Corps, which doesn't have anything to do with green pickles.
The Posse decided to go to the local hangout, Baku Baku's Mongolian Grill. There were sure to be answers there.
As the Posse approached the Grill, Lambda noticed several frightened faces in many windows, and a lot of doors being shut.
"Hey guys," said Lambda, "I've noticed several frightened faces in many windows, and a lot of doors being shut as we approach Baku Baku's."
"Yeah, we heard the narrator," replied Mack.
"Oh, right. Lemme rephrase that," apologized Lambda. He pulled on his best gruff Western voice that he could and said, "Hey boys, does it look like thar's trouble afoot or what?"
"What," answered MysteriousGuy.
"Guys, I think that we should be careful," said Spooky, "This is our turf and all, but still, it looks like there's some dirty work going on here. We should be careful. We need one person to go into Baku Baku's and the rest can be back-ups incase something bad happens."
"Good idea," said CB, "Cover me. I'm goin' in!"
"Wait," said Odin's Eye, "No offense, you're our leader and all, and I guess I'm supposed to respect you blah blah blah, but you're not that intimidating. Let me go in."
The Posse agreed to this, so, at two minute intervals, one by one, the entire VSP silently and innocently enough set themselves up around the Bar and Grill, until Odin was the only one outside. Apprehensively, he gathered himself up to make as dramatic an entrance as possible. He took a deep breath, pushed the Western doors open, and stepped into the Grill.
Unfortunately, any dramatics that he had planned were ruined when he tripped over the door frame and landed face first onto the floor. His antics were greeted with laughter, until the push doors swung back and hit him in the back of the head. An incredibly large amount of laughter ensued, almost drowning out the Bar of all sound.
Odin dusted himself off and stood up, holding onto his few remaining shards of dignity. He looked around the bar. The supposed "back-up" members were all trying their hardest not to crack up and pee all over the floor, while various others were doing just that. After the laughter stopped (it was like 5 minutes), he gave a mean glare to the various citizens in Baku Baku's (including Endarire, who was still bearing a huge grin on his face) and said, "I'm Odin's Eye."
"Member of the VSP."
"Odin's Eye, member of the VSP."
The desired effect didn't occur. All he got were a few clueless stares.
"Odin's Eye! Common! You know, the Vancouver Street Posse?"
There was a loud chorus of "Ohs," "Oh yeahs," and "I remember them, that's who you ares."
Some daring fellow piped up.
"Yeah?" he said, "And what the hell is that supposed to mean? What're you lookin' for?" ‘Moron’, thought Odin's Eye.
"What did you say?" said the labeled Moron.
‘Moron’, thought Odin's Eye.
Gathering up all the meanness and nastiness that he could muster, Odin's Eye dramatically took slow steps towards the idiot. The others just shirked away. Whether it was his stench or his looks, once couldn't tell. Once Odin had reached the daring drunkard, he spit on his boots and said,
"The Vancouver Street Posse, moron! This is Vancouver, we roam the Street, and we're a Posse! Can I break it down for you even more?"
"Er, okay," managed the drunkard, "But what do yas want?"
Odin glared him down to the ground with that mean glare/stench (you pick) and said, "Trouble."
There were a few scattered gasps. The drunkard couldn't believe his ears.
"Yer actually LOOKIN' fer him?" said the loon.
"Yer lookin' fer TROUBLE? I thought he was lerkin' for you Vanstreet Pouver Cosse people, so that he could gun yas all down! Yer a darin' soul, Odin's Pie! That y'are!"
"Trouble's gonna gun you down, alright," said another, "He's been huntin' for you for months! If I was in the VSP, I'd be long gone by now. This is his turf, you'd have to be crazy to be a member of the VSP and spend more'n five minutes in Vancouver!"
This yockel obviously didn't get the irony of his statement. Before Odin could enquire further, the crowd parted and a dark-looking ruffian wearing mostly black (as typical with good westerns) who really needed to shave strolled over to Odin and gave him a real mean and nasty stare.
"No need to look," said Trouble, "Trouble's here."
Once Odin could tear his eyes from Trouble's mean ones, he noticed that Trouble kept a laptop at his side in a briefcase.
"I'm sick of people like you damned VSP folk runnin' this town," said Trouble, "especially not after that damned Parachutin' Jazz, or whatever you called it."
"Par- Paradig- Paradigm Bl-lue, ya mean," stammered Odin.
"Yeah, that. That was horrible! Plus, those TRASH guys or whatever-"
"WASTE," corrected Odin's Eye.
"Yeah, them. They massacred my best bud, Jimmy! And my other best bud, Bob! And Jimmy Bob, too! And Bob Jimmy! And Jimbo! And Bojim! An..."
"Yeah, I get the point," said Odin, "So what?"
"SO WHAT?!" yelled Trouble, "They was my crew! An' you VSP folks killed 'em, that's all I need to know! And I want JUSTICE!"
At this, Spooky and the other Posse members perked up and started looking anxious to leave.
"This is my town, now! You leave, or I'll run ya down and kill ya! Ya! I'll kill ya right now! Run, or I'll kill ya! Yea! That's it!"
‘Great’, thought Codebreaker, ‘we can get pretend to leave town and instead go back to the Headquarters where we go get our weapons, and then we come back and fill him full of lead.’
"No way," said Odin's Eye, "The VSP have run this town for months. We're stayin', and there's nothing you can do about it. I suggest that YOU leave!"
There were a few hearty agreements and encouragements scattered across the bar.
"Heh," said Trouble, "Well, I guess you don't know how it works nowadays. Nowadays, you're not runnin' a town for months when you haven't BEEN there for months! And especially not after you GUN DOWN HALF THE HIGH SCHOOL!"
There were quite a few more encouragements at that, a lot of hearty agreements, too. Odin began to see his fault, especially since he spotted Trouble's modified Gauss Pistol hanging at his side.
"And SO!" yelled Trouble, "I CHALLENGE YOU...to a DUEL!"
Roars of excitement drowned out any other noise, until Trouble calmed them all down with a few shots from his pistol.
"Since I'm the challenger, I get to choose the weapons."
"Huh?" said Odin?
"Shaddup and listen. It's 1v1 on Dire Straits! Prepare to DIE!"
Trouble pulled out two laptops out of his briefcase and connected them together. Odin ran SC on his end, Trouble ran it on his. No matter the result of the game, Odin knew, there would still be trouble in Vancouver during the entire Saga...
MG readied his explosive M&Ms that he had left in his pocket. There was surely to be a need for them if Trouble won. Then again, there was surely to be a need for them no matter WHO won. Either way, there was surely going to be a battle in Baku Baku's.
"This is bad." Codebreaker said. He and the rest of the Posse had been watching Odin in silence for almost ten minutes. So far, Odin had lost every expansion attempt, and his first attack had been nullified.
"This is BAD." said Spookalie. Codebreaker looked at her sourly.
"You can't say what I said after I say what I say!" he said. Spooky just stared. "I'm the BOSS." Codebreaker added.
A scream of pain tore them from their conversation and back to the game. Odin's base had just been victimized by a reaver drop.
"Oh no..." Lambda said. It appeared that Odin had lost the match! The VSP rushed to his side and looked over his shoulder at the monitor. Odin had indeed lost, or very nearly. The VSP watched their hope dwindle as the last of Odin's buildings were destroyed.
YOU FAILED TO ACHIEVE VICTORY.
Odin's face fell. He walked away from the laptop, his head down, his feet dragging. Trouble laughed and said "Hey guys, feel like a rematch? Heh heh heh..."
"I have failed, and must pay for my failure with my own mortal life." Odin said. Trouble laughed again and leaned back in his chair.
"Ah, nevermindaboutthat..." Codebreaker said. He whispered in Lambda's ear. Lambda listened intently, while the other VSP members watched. Suddenly Lambda grinned. Codebreaker whipped out his laptop and set it down on his desk. "How about a REAL game?" Codebreaker asked, grinning. Lambda sat down at the other laptop opposite Trouble. "A little 2 vs. 1 to really lighten things up." Codebreaker continued, "Trouble and Lambda versus me. I'll take the both of you down!"
Trouble stared for a moment. Then stated:
"If Lambda accepts, I'd be happy to wipe the floor with ya'! Hahahahahahahahahah!"
Trouble, Codebreaker, and Lambda sat down to the game. Meanwhile, Mack Kilimaro picked up the phone and dialed the number 725...
The game started with Trouble building up defenses and air units. Corsairs were very popular. Codebreaker built a cannon and started gathering.
Trouble went straight to battlecruisers, and Lambda prepared a Reaver and a single shuttle... meanwhile, Codebreaker built another probe to add to his initial 4. Mack Kilimaro had hung up the phone. He flashed CB the thumbs up, and CB nodded. Lambda began taking screen shots. Suddenly, Trouble's attack came to CB's base, crushing his valiant probes in about 4 seconds. The Nexus and one Pylon were destroyed nearly as fast.
Trouble: lol! You suck! You f***** suck! Hahahahahahhahaa!
Codebreaker smiled and said "I guess I do."
YOU HAVE FAILED TO ACHIEVE VICTORY.
As soon as Codebreaker had left the game, Trouble looked towards Lambda's base, defended by a reaver and 3 zealots. Trouble laughed evilly, and decided to have some fun. Quickly, he sent all his forces to Lambda's base and opened fire, obliterating the standing forces.
Lambda: Hey... you're a backstabber, aren't you?
Trouble: Yer damn right! My name IS trouble, after all!
Suddenly, messages began showing up on Trouble's screen.
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"What the... what the he-" Trouble yelled. Suddenly, the SCL staff rushed in with cameras, recording equipment, and microphones. Xenon shoved a mic in Trouble's face and said:
"Congratulations, you're on LAMER OF THE WEEK! What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I.... I uh... I di-" Trouble stuttered.
"Enough, you're going to the Land of the Banned!"
"Land of the Banned?" asked Trouble inquisitively.
"Yes. The cyber land where those banished from the StarCraft community at large are forced to live out their retched existence." said Xenon gravely. Suddenly, 3 men in long, brown robes walked in the door. One was holding a hoe. One, a rake. One, a weed-whacker. Everyone stared.
"Sorry, we were short on lawn instruments." said a voice. The robed men grabbed Trouble, and all 4 disappeared in a puff of smoke.
"Hey, does this mean I can stay alive?" Odin asked. Lambda thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Something tells me we have not seen the last of Trouble. The Land of the Banned (LotB) is a prime harvesting ground for past and future enemies." Endarire informed the Posse, "He shall return... someday, someway, somesay, which way...”
And of course, since Codebreaker opened his big mouth, it was so....
Trouble hit the ground. Hard. Really hard. Harder than that. There ya go!
"Low-down rotten..." he began on his tirade...
*Five minutes later*
*Ten Minutes Later*
Having released his anger, he decided to look around. He was definitely in the Land of the Banned. All around him were the faceless entities of all those who had ever been banned from anything.
"I am more than a faceless entity of one who has been banned from something!" he shouted. "I will rule this land, and then I will return for the Vancouver Street Posse!"