Fan Fiction ❯ Deus ex Conker ❯ A Conspiracy Begins... ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Ultimanium 
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.14.2002 | Pages: 3 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 210 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.14.2002 | Pages: 3 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 210 | Status: Completed
*Keyvan bursts back in*
Keyvan : I have a burned disc with some samples of Limp Bizkit... recorded backwards... in Norwegian.. for about 30 seconds.
Davis : Great, the Backward Norwegian Limp Bizkit sampler. Dumbass, what happened to Chocolate Starfish?
Keyvan : It's at home.
*Davis and Veemon slap themselves*
Keyvan : It's not like Veemon needs to learn anymore language like that anyways. Say, how's the fanfic?
Davis : Heh.. you nerve gassed everyone. That's a UN atrocity.
Keyvan : (sweatdrops) Whatever happened to free press?
Veemon : (looking out a window) I think those guys destroyed it.
*Keyvan glances out the window and catches sight of a parked SWAT van. Several heavily armed troops are entering the building.*
Keyvan : Er... just read. You're listening to WECUP 590 - Odiaba's Best Rock! We just had a great riff back there from Rage Against The Machine, and word from Davis Motomiya and his pal Veemon shows that Deus ex Conker is going along nicely and should be in theatres this summer! Watch for it!
Conker continued plodding down the steps ahead of Rodent into the palace's bomb shelter. Ahead of Conker were the two weasel guards that first began serving him, carryovers from the reign of the Panther King.
Conker was deep in thought.
I can walk out into an open street in broad daylight, wearing a pink shirt, and throw nuclear warheads at people and they STILL won't notice somthing's wrong. I guess mass genocide is out of the question. And.. acting weird. There has to be a way out of this mess.
*Keyvan, in a fix, needs two more names. He looks to nearby CD covers of programs he has.*
"... Diablo? Encarta?"
The two guards turned around.
Davis : (sweatdrops) this guy HAS to be kidding...
"Yuh, that's us." The shorter one answered.
"Er.." Conker mumbled. "Okay. When the Great Panther King was in charge, when he had a problem, who did he go to?"
"Well, whut's the deal?" the taller one replied. "Do you wanna kill someone? Figure out something? What?"
Conker quickly made up something. "... like, redirecting national research or something."
That was it! There's a way that research can get me out of this problem... but I can't quite grasp it...
"He whud talk to the scientist."
"THE scientist? Like, one?" Conker sighed.
"Yeah."
"What was his name?" Conker asked.
*Keyvan rubs his chin and reaches for a potato chip... yeah, that's it...*
"Pringle."
".. Pringle?"
"Yah, but... you.. killed 'im, remember?"
Conker shook his head in disgust. Opening that airlock was an all-too-great mistake. Maybe if he pounded the crap out of the alien with the maintenance robot WITHOUT sucking everyone into space, he wouldn't be in this mess now. He quickly recollected his thoughts.
"...never mind." Conker moaned.
The group came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. Everybody waited in front of the large iron door nearby. The door slowly swung open with a long, squealing creak. Conker and Rodent poked their heads inside. In the shelter was several racks with canned food, and 16 hammocks were slung in pairs, tops and bottoms, in various areas around the chamber.
"We're going to be staying here until the assassinations cease," Rodent explained. "It will no longer be safe to return to the surface as long as the assassinations continue. The 23rd brigade has been ordered to patrol the castle and take anybody prisoner that they feel is acting suspiciously."
As everybody settled into their hammocks, Conker sat at the door, looking inwards with shock. "I can't believe this! We're going to sit on our asses and wait for me... er... THEM to STOP?! If they know we're still in the palace, they aren't going to quit!"
Everybody was already asleep.
Conker collapsed into a hammock. "Aw, frick, forget it. I'll worry about it in the morning." He looked over to the door. A single trooper was keeping watch at the vault entrance.
Conker sighed, placed his head back and stared at the celing. He scowled to himself and kept his trusty cast-iron pan crossed across his chest. He was going to get out of here, whether anyone liked it or not.
********
Deep space churned around Pringle.
As soon as the darkness consumed him, he found himself back on the marble floor of the lobby of the Feral Reserve Bank, gasping for air. Wheezing, he dragged himself across the ground, leaving several large smudges in the perfectly polished floor. He pushed himself up and sat against the nearest pillar.
After a couple minutes of gargling, Pringle finally caught his breath. "V..vhat is going on here..?"
Pringle sat and ruminated for a moment. "Ja. A space analomy. How interesting. But vhat kind of force could cause such a thing?.."
A large shadow crept along the ground. Pringle looked up. "Vho goes there..."
A small probe hovered into place in front of Pringle. The pillar behind him kept him from leaping back in surprise. Instead, he hit his head on the granite pillar.
Pringle rubbed his head. "..ooow... vell.. vhat do ve have here...?"
The probe bobbed slowly up and down in front of Pringle. It sported a red and yellow paintjob, broken occaisionaly with shiny chrome sticking out. It was no larger than a TV. On the side, a logo stood out. It was a picture of a half of a clock with a lightning bolt through it.
"You are looking at a device of mine..." a recorded voice spoke through the mechanism. "It is a machine I call Project J2."
"Project J2, ya. Vhat of it?"
"Let's get this straight - Project J2 is a device capable of forgiveness, in the right hands. If it is not handled correctly, it is capable of limitless destruction. It has crossed from a neighboring dimension into this one. If you are listening to this message now, then I, Ultimanium, has lost contact with the J2 and I am in a different dimension. While it may not be possible to get the Project J2 back into my current dimension; in that case I will have to create another probe, you should use the J2 if possible to gain access to my dimension and return the probe. I can tell if the probe is operating, so I will detect any mishappenings with the probe. If I find anything wrong, the person operating the probe shall suffer dearly. I now place the J2 into your hands."
Pringle rubbed his chin. "A dimensional rift... that must be it. Ja. It may have released an anti-time barrier that threw my pre-self into this reality. I suppose I should count my blessings."
Pringle rubbed his hands together. "Vell then... I'd better get to where I left off." He reached into his lab coat pocket and dug around for his walkie-talkie. "I'll establish communications with the Tediz and find out vhat's going on."
Pringle searched for the coordinates of the main island base of the Tediz. All he got was static.
"No! Could it be..." Pringles threw the walkie-talkie across the hall. "Damn! There's no way the Tediz could have been routed from their position!"
Pringle turned to find his hoverchair knocked over at the other end of the hall. After some struggling, he was able to get to it and climb into it. Before leaving, he took another look at the J2. Somehow, that device had some sort of omnipotent power behind it. And Pringle was going to figure it out, regardless the price he would pay.
********
Conker opened an eye. A quick look at his watch revealed it was 3:44 in the morning. Slowly he crept out of his hammock and waddled toward the guard, sitting against the door, playing solitaire on top of a crate of apricots.
Conker stepped out from behind a stack of empty cans and waved. "Hey."
The guard looked up. "Go back to bed."
Conker grinned. "Nah, I'm going to hit you."
The guard, slightly shorter than Conker, reeled from the comment. "...why?"
"Oh, don't worry. It's not like I have to hit you. However, if you take off your helmet and give it to me, I won't."
The guard dimwittedingly handed Conker the kevlar hat. He tossed it onto his head.
Conker grinned. "Stupidity is never measured..."
THWONG
"...because where it is present, it's often in infinite quantities!"
The guard collapsed to the ground, out cold. Conker sheathed his frying pan underneath his sweater.
Conker shoved open the steel door open. He nabbed a flashlight off of the unconscious guard and began making his way up the stairs.
********
Berri opened her eyes, expecting to see Conker in front of her, taking a clip of bullets from her from that.. er... mobster weasel guy...
*Keyvan looks around. Various computer periphials catch his eye.*
Ted "The Altec Lansing" Weasel's tommygun...
But, she knew all too well how much of a true wuss Conker was.
"Holy shit, look at that one!"
"You don't see too many female victims around here, do you?"
"Heh.. c'mon boys, let's get a look while the body's still fresh..."
Berri glanced around. She was in a dungeon of some sort, with several torches burning off in the distance. She stood in a shaft of light in the center of the room. Which didn't catch her attention, what was REALLY bothering her was the fact that grey squirrel soldiers were converging on her standpoint from every direction.
Berri backed up. "W..what's going on here...?"
"Damn it! Buggers! GET BACK IN LINE!!"
A stubby, short figure with heavy black drapery waddled into the circle and swung a large scythe. "Get back in line!! Now!! Or I'll make sure our little fricking 'benefit' doesn't come into effect!"
Different soldiers groaned, threw up their hands, or showed discontempt in any method they knew how and fell into a single line that stretched off into the darkness.
Gregg rested the butt of the scythe on the cobblestone floor. "Squirrels.... MORE fucking squirrels! This little war up there is driving me fricking nuts! Everyday I get another 50-some squirrels asking me about some 'eternal life benefit'! Oooh... there's enough squirrels around these parts, it's getting worse than the cats! .... Urrghh... cats... pissing and shitting everywhere... thinking they can walk all over Gregg here.... "
Gregg looked up to Berri.
"FUCK!! Another one!!" Gregg threw his scythe to the ground. "... damn it... all you are going to pay out of your arses for this... fine... go with the drill... okay, what's your name..."
With a burst of magic, a notepad and a pen appeared in Gregg's hands. "Oh, wait, lemme guess... Berri? Cause of death... blood boiling? Good enough."
The pad and pen evaporated out of Gregg's grasp. "Alright, might as well get this over with... alright, squirrels get as many lives as they think they need, blah blah blah, yackety smackety... okay then.... wait... Berri?"
A golden sticky note appeared out of thin air on Gregg's hand. "Ooooh, yes. That's right. Word from up above says that a person named 'Berri' is excused from dying. It says 'Berri is essential to the survival of the universe and should not be allowed to die.' signed Keyvan."
*Keyvan grins*
Gregg smiled. "One less squirrel for me to deal with, hell. Get out of my sight."
With a flash, Berri found herself on the floor of the Feral Reserve Bank.
Keyvan : I have a burned disc with some samples of Limp Bizkit... recorded backwards... in Norwegian.. for about 30 seconds.
Davis : Great, the Backward Norwegian Limp Bizkit sampler. Dumbass, what happened to Chocolate Starfish?
Keyvan : It's at home.
*Davis and Veemon slap themselves*
Keyvan : It's not like Veemon needs to learn anymore language like that anyways. Say, how's the fanfic?
Davis : Heh.. you nerve gassed everyone. That's a UN atrocity.
Keyvan : (sweatdrops) Whatever happened to free press?
Veemon : (looking out a window) I think those guys destroyed it.
*Keyvan glances out the window and catches sight of a parked SWAT van. Several heavily armed troops are entering the building.*
Keyvan : Er... just read. You're listening to WECUP 590 - Odiaba's Best Rock! We just had a great riff back there from Rage Against The Machine, and word from Davis Motomiya and his pal Veemon shows that Deus ex Conker is going along nicely and should be in theatres this summer! Watch for it!
Conker continued plodding down the steps ahead of Rodent into the palace's bomb shelter. Ahead of Conker were the two weasel guards that first began serving him, carryovers from the reign of the Panther King.
Conker was deep in thought.
I can walk out into an open street in broad daylight, wearing a pink shirt, and throw nuclear warheads at people and they STILL won't notice somthing's wrong. I guess mass genocide is out of the question. And.. acting weird. There has to be a way out of this mess.
*Keyvan, in a fix, needs two more names. He looks to nearby CD covers of programs he has.*
"... Diablo? Encarta?"
The two guards turned around.
Davis : (sweatdrops) this guy HAS to be kidding...
"Yuh, that's us." The shorter one answered.
"Er.." Conker mumbled. "Okay. When the Great Panther King was in charge, when he had a problem, who did he go to?"
"Well, whut's the deal?" the taller one replied. "Do you wanna kill someone? Figure out something? What?"
Conker quickly made up something. "... like, redirecting national research or something."
That was it! There's a way that research can get me out of this problem... but I can't quite grasp it...
"He whud talk to the scientist."
"THE scientist? Like, one?" Conker sighed.
"Yeah."
"What was his name?" Conker asked.
*Keyvan rubs his chin and reaches for a potato chip... yeah, that's it...*
"Pringle."
".. Pringle?"
"Yah, but... you.. killed 'im, remember?"
Conker shook his head in disgust. Opening that airlock was an all-too-great mistake. Maybe if he pounded the crap out of the alien with the maintenance robot WITHOUT sucking everyone into space, he wouldn't be in this mess now. He quickly recollected his thoughts.
"...never mind." Conker moaned.
The group came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. Everybody waited in front of the large iron door nearby. The door slowly swung open with a long, squealing creak. Conker and Rodent poked their heads inside. In the shelter was several racks with canned food, and 16 hammocks were slung in pairs, tops and bottoms, in various areas around the chamber.
"We're going to be staying here until the assassinations cease," Rodent explained. "It will no longer be safe to return to the surface as long as the assassinations continue. The 23rd brigade has been ordered to patrol the castle and take anybody prisoner that they feel is acting suspiciously."
As everybody settled into their hammocks, Conker sat at the door, looking inwards with shock. "I can't believe this! We're going to sit on our asses and wait for me... er... THEM to STOP?! If they know we're still in the palace, they aren't going to quit!"
Everybody was already asleep.
Conker collapsed into a hammock. "Aw, frick, forget it. I'll worry about it in the morning." He looked over to the door. A single trooper was keeping watch at the vault entrance.
Conker sighed, placed his head back and stared at the celing. He scowled to himself and kept his trusty cast-iron pan crossed across his chest. He was going to get out of here, whether anyone liked it or not.
********
Deep space churned around Pringle.
As soon as the darkness consumed him, he found himself back on the marble floor of the lobby of the Feral Reserve Bank, gasping for air. Wheezing, he dragged himself across the ground, leaving several large smudges in the perfectly polished floor. He pushed himself up and sat against the nearest pillar.
After a couple minutes of gargling, Pringle finally caught his breath. "V..vhat is going on here..?"
Pringle sat and ruminated for a moment. "Ja. A space analomy. How interesting. But vhat kind of force could cause such a thing?.."
A large shadow crept along the ground. Pringle looked up. "Vho goes there..."
A small probe hovered into place in front of Pringle. The pillar behind him kept him from leaping back in surprise. Instead, he hit his head on the granite pillar.
Pringle rubbed his head. "..ooow... vell.. vhat do ve have here...?"
The probe bobbed slowly up and down in front of Pringle. It sported a red and yellow paintjob, broken occaisionaly with shiny chrome sticking out. It was no larger than a TV. On the side, a logo stood out. It was a picture of a half of a clock with a lightning bolt through it.
"You are looking at a device of mine..." a recorded voice spoke through the mechanism. "It is a machine I call Project J2."
"Project J2, ya. Vhat of it?"
"Let's get this straight - Project J2 is a device capable of forgiveness, in the right hands. If it is not handled correctly, it is capable of limitless destruction. It has crossed from a neighboring dimension into this one. If you are listening to this message now, then I, Ultimanium, has lost contact with the J2 and I am in a different dimension. While it may not be possible to get the Project J2 back into my current dimension; in that case I will have to create another probe, you should use the J2 if possible to gain access to my dimension and return the probe. I can tell if the probe is operating, so I will detect any mishappenings with the probe. If I find anything wrong, the person operating the probe shall suffer dearly. I now place the J2 into your hands."
Pringle rubbed his chin. "A dimensional rift... that must be it. Ja. It may have released an anti-time barrier that threw my pre-self into this reality. I suppose I should count my blessings."
Pringle rubbed his hands together. "Vell then... I'd better get to where I left off." He reached into his lab coat pocket and dug around for his walkie-talkie. "I'll establish communications with the Tediz and find out vhat's going on."
Pringle searched for the coordinates of the main island base of the Tediz. All he got was static.
"No! Could it be..." Pringles threw the walkie-talkie across the hall. "Damn! There's no way the Tediz could have been routed from their position!"
Pringle turned to find his hoverchair knocked over at the other end of the hall. After some struggling, he was able to get to it and climb into it. Before leaving, he took another look at the J2. Somehow, that device had some sort of omnipotent power behind it. And Pringle was going to figure it out, regardless the price he would pay.
********
Conker opened an eye. A quick look at his watch revealed it was 3:44 in the morning. Slowly he crept out of his hammock and waddled toward the guard, sitting against the door, playing solitaire on top of a crate of apricots.
Conker stepped out from behind a stack of empty cans and waved. "Hey."
The guard looked up. "Go back to bed."
Conker grinned. "Nah, I'm going to hit you."
The guard, slightly shorter than Conker, reeled from the comment. "...why?"
"Oh, don't worry. It's not like I have to hit you. However, if you take off your helmet and give it to me, I won't."
The guard dimwittedingly handed Conker the kevlar hat. He tossed it onto his head.
Conker grinned. "Stupidity is never measured..."
THWONG
"...because where it is present, it's often in infinite quantities!"
The guard collapsed to the ground, out cold. Conker sheathed his frying pan underneath his sweater.
Conker shoved open the steel door open. He nabbed a flashlight off of the unconscious guard and began making his way up the stairs.
********
Berri opened her eyes, expecting to see Conker in front of her, taking a clip of bullets from her from that.. er... mobster weasel guy...
*Keyvan looks around. Various computer periphials catch his eye.*
Ted "The Altec Lansing" Weasel's tommygun...
But, she knew all too well how much of a true wuss Conker was.
"Holy shit, look at that one!"
"You don't see too many female victims around here, do you?"
"Heh.. c'mon boys, let's get a look while the body's still fresh..."
Berri glanced around. She was in a dungeon of some sort, with several torches burning off in the distance. She stood in a shaft of light in the center of the room. Which didn't catch her attention, what was REALLY bothering her was the fact that grey squirrel soldiers were converging on her standpoint from every direction.
Berri backed up. "W..what's going on here...?"
"Damn it! Buggers! GET BACK IN LINE!!"
A stubby, short figure with heavy black drapery waddled into the circle and swung a large scythe. "Get back in line!! Now!! Or I'll make sure our little fricking 'benefit' doesn't come into effect!"
Different soldiers groaned, threw up their hands, or showed discontempt in any method they knew how and fell into a single line that stretched off into the darkness.
Gregg rested the butt of the scythe on the cobblestone floor. "Squirrels.... MORE fucking squirrels! This little war up there is driving me fricking nuts! Everyday I get another 50-some squirrels asking me about some 'eternal life benefit'! Oooh... there's enough squirrels around these parts, it's getting worse than the cats! .... Urrghh... cats... pissing and shitting everywhere... thinking they can walk all over Gregg here.... "
Gregg looked up to Berri.
"FUCK!! Another one!!" Gregg threw his scythe to the ground. "... damn it... all you are going to pay out of your arses for this... fine... go with the drill... okay, what's your name..."
With a burst of magic, a notepad and a pen appeared in Gregg's hands. "Oh, wait, lemme guess... Berri? Cause of death... blood boiling? Good enough."
The pad and pen evaporated out of Gregg's grasp. "Alright, might as well get this over with... alright, squirrels get as many lives as they think they need, blah blah blah, yackety smackety... okay then.... wait... Berri?"
A golden sticky note appeared out of thin air on Gregg's hand. "Ooooh, yes. That's right. Word from up above says that a person named 'Berri' is excused from dying. It says 'Berri is essential to the survival of the universe and should not be allowed to die.' signed Keyvan."
*Keyvan grins*
Gregg smiled. "One less squirrel for me to deal with, hell. Get out of my sight."
With a flash, Berri found herself on the floor of the Feral Reserve Bank.