8 years ago
@Bloo: You have bested me this day, but there will be a reckoning.
The vengeance you have unleashed-
Oh, forget it. Well done.
*Shit parties are like whores with herpes; hard to spot, but painfully obvious once you're inside. This was a shit party. Getting all the Xenos, Yautja, marines and hybrids together from across time and space and putting them under one roof with all the music beer and blow anyone could ask for had seemed like a surefire idea when he'd heard it, but in the thick of it, you could practically smell people trying too hard.
"Deathdrop! Hey, DD!"
"Concrete! How's it going?"
"Bloo's shit himself again, but that's to be expected."
"Cocaine IS a hell of a drug."
"Never touch the stuff myself... Anyway, the lads are blasting packets of cool ranch sauce out back. You in?"
Deathdrop had hoped he wouldn't ask. "Aw, shit, man, I didn't bring my caster."
"Aw, shame. I'd offer you mine, but it's in the shop."
"Don't worry about it.”
And there it was. The awkward silence leading into the inevitable. Concrete was good people, but even he wasn’t a mind-reader; he would ask.
“What’ve you been up to, mate?”
Thank Cetanu he was wearing his biomask.
“Well, you know... I’ve got some freelance work lined up. Might try applying at Tesco’s again, just to play it safe. Not much hunting as of late.”
Concrete shrugged. “Gotta get money from somewhere. Especially in this economy.”
“Yup. The way it is now, you know...”
Oh, Christ. Now they were on the economy. If the party wasn’t dead, the conversation certainly was. “Anyway, suppose I’ll see you later on.”
“Yeah, good seeing you.”
Fist bump, then awkward wave, then moving deeper into the house. He looked back toward the door. There was still time to bail. “And do what?” he almost said out loud, “sit in front of a screen for a few hours? Fuck that.”
“Sorry?” Female voice. Shit. Deathdrop turned to find a female xeno with a beer in each hand.
“I, uh, sorry-just, you know, uh, thinking out loud.”
“Oh, no-Hey, DD! I almost didn’t recognize you!”
What? Did he know her?
“... Oh, hey.” Well shit, DD, she’ll be flattered at how enthused you sound...
“What’s up?” She asked, more out of obligation than anything.
Where to begin? Well, you know, hanging out, working, not getting much hunting done because I’m spending all my time looking for a job since I’m out of college with my thumb up my ass and no idea what I want to do with my life-
“Nothing much,” he said. At least he was being truthful.
“OK, I’ll see you around.”
There had been a time when she and him had held long conversations, and now it was down to “Nothing much?” They’d bonded over... What was it? How much they hated jocks and preps?
Jesus, WHAT? “Jocks and preps?” The language sounded so absurd, so alien, that it nearly made him laugh even as he felt like crying. Jocks and preps? What did that even mean? Had he been that much of a kid that recent-
Oh, no. This was why he hated parties like this. It wasn’t recent. If they had been bitching about typical teenage subroutines, then that meant-Fuck. Nine years, at least.
Realizing you’re not a kid anymore is a one-two punch for the first few years. You realize how old you are, and then you make the mistake of looking around. It seemed like there were kids everywhere. They looked young, he kept telling himself, but he knew that no one here was under 19. That was just what teenagers looked like now. Young. Absurd. Alien.
There was no two ways about it; he wasn’t one of them. Had he a brain, he would’ve left then, but instead he decided that now was a good time for alcohol.
There was shouting from somewhere nearby, and a shambling Xeno who looked like he’d seen it all stumbled out of the kitchen.
“It is the end,” it preached, “it is the day. There is nothing to be done; the hour is at hand. Repent!”
Wait a minute... “Oh my god,” said Deathdrop, “... Dave?”
“Whores! Whores and backsliders! Repent! The chipmunks approach from High Hrothgar! We’re in the shit now! Repent! GAME OVER, MAN!”
"He hasn't been the same since the Twihard invasion," said someone.
After the first few impulsive shots, things got a little more enjoyable. He caught up with Firehunter, who had some time off and thought it would be cool to see everyone. He saw Bloo, who (in addition to fucking the living Hell out of a copy of Roadhouse until there was a literal hole in it) had a paper to write.
Deathwraith didn’t show (too busy), Peterson couldn’t come (family commitments), and some guy named Shockwave kept trying to give people a bag of mushrooms he'd "found on the street." Bad vibrations all around. He was graduated. He was a grown-up. Yippie.
He lost track of time somewhere around the 6th shot. Predator 428 was telling a story about how he’d taken a piss on Gaia Online’s global headquarters. Deathdrop thought maybe he’d like to hear the end, but this place was feeling claustrophobic and the booze was making it worse. There was pot smoke here, but not enough to calm him down.
Oh God, get me the fuck out of-
“Deathdrop, you horse’s ass! Remember Xenomorphose you fucking piece of-
Things were better now. Topdogg streaking through the living room with his pubes on fire had livened things up some, and Bug-hunt (who could only stop in for a little while thanks to work commitments) knocked Xenomorphose out with a well-swung pool cue.
He’d collapsed on the sofa at some point, but how Deathdrop wound up sharing a joint with Assassin, he’d never know.
“So listen, man, it’s the ego. It’s gotta keep getting bigger, like a monster, right? That’s why you gotta let go of that shit, man. Gotta stay chill and laugh.”
“I can’t BELIEVE,” Deathdrop slurred, louder than he was capable of noticing, “that you’re fuckin’ still here, dude.”
There was a vibraton from his leg. Pleasebespampleasebespampleasebespam-Nope. Car wash. He started Monday, which was of course tomorrow. All the weed and booze in the world couldn’t chase the dread out of his system. Dreads. Yeah, better lose the dreads. Older people didn’t like long hair, and this was their world, now. Better start dressing his age, too, the armor was a little small. Or his gut was a little big. Hard to tell the difference anymore.
“DD? Hey, DD!”
PV2. Finally, a face as old as Deathdrop’s felt.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Listen, this party’s a bummer. Doc and me are gathering up some of the old gang from Balatu, and Firehunter got Bloo’s dick out of the sink, so we’re gonna have an old-fashioned throw-down. You in?”
The offer would have sounded great a few years back, but now? Thermal vision and plasma casters and facehugging? He was an adult, for Christ’s sake. He had work in the morning.
“I was actually just leaving.”
“Oh,” said PV2, “That’s, uh... Cool, I guess.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
“Nah, it’s fine. To be honest, we were having trouble finding people.”
“Well, you know how it is.” was Deathdrop’s stock answer.
Yes, they did. They both did, and it sucked, and they would now spend the next few minutes pretending it didn’t. They were grown-ups, and that was kid’s stuff.
Tighten that shirt. Earn some money. Cut that hair. Stop turning invisible. He’d traded in his spaceship for money as part of “cash for clunkers.” Never forget, you swine.
And he never would, just like he’d never leap through the air in slow motion to decapitate a queen alien, or fight through a collapsing building, or prowl a forest of giant bones. Hunting Season was Over.
PV2 walked away. Deathdrop didn’t feel bad. This actually worked out for the best. He could get some internet time in, maybe watch some Youtube... Then he’d go to sleep. He’d get up, go to work, make some money. Maybe then he’d be able to afford an apartment in a few years. Yeah. He’d worked there before. The uniform wasn’t too bad, and the people at the car wash were all right...
I mean, yeah, they called people driving by “faggots” from time to time, but they were just... Uneducated. They also cat-called women, made them feel like objects, those HONORLESS PIECES OF HUMAN FILTH-
Whoa. Hold on, tiger. Not anymore. Relax. You don’t have to like them, but the customers are OK. Even the ones that said his work was half-assed while he was on his work-on his hands and knees wiping insects off of this middle-aged guy’s car. He had to stand there while the guy questioned him on how half-assed it was. He had to stand there. He had to take it. “Never should have let you alien people into this country!” He’d said, but it was fine. There would always be assholes in the world, there would always be men who used their position to fuck with people who they knew couldn’t say anything back like THE FILTHY COWARDLY APES THEY WERE-
Shit. Was this the booze?
PV2 Was at the door. Leaving. Leaving forever, maybe. It was all going down. Falling apart. No more fun. Work harder. No weekends. No healthcare. Eyes forward. Shut up. Do nothing. No way out. No way up. Vote for people who don’t give a shit. Shut up.
Oh, boy. Yes, this was the booze.
Then he noticed the TV was on. It was that obnoxious commercial for the tablet that connected to the keyboard. Some awful hipster caricature was explaining the “concept” behind this latest sweatshop-assembled gizmo.
“We wanted, like, it to be, like, part of who you are. Part of your soul.”
“You think your product measures up to my soul, you spineless, unevolved little mammalian SHIT-”
PV2 was out the door. No.
No more. No job. No haircut. No graduation. No clumsy, self-indulgent metaphors. Only rage.
In the state he was in, it was amazing that he made it to the door without falling. He didn’t notice. He didn't care. What he did notice was PV2 about to get in his car and drive off and fade into the background. No. Deathdrop would not allow it.
“I’m in. What’s our plan of attack?”
“Well, we thought we could swing by the Quiznos-”
“No, brother. What is our plan of attack upon the Hard Meat lair?”
BUMFUCK, WHENEVER 45th-The town of Bumfuck was nearly annihilated early yesterday morning when two rowdy groups of extraterrestrial monsters began battling to, as a local homeless man identified as “Stinky Steve” put it, “determine which of their two species will take over this pitiful little mudball of a planet.”
While details are still sketchy, the two groups-described by eyewitnesses variously as “fucked up looking crab things,” “penis monsters,” and “that thing from that movie with that dude from Terminator”-began their dispute on Weaver St., later spreading to the parking lot of a nearby “Lube N Go” car wash, and eventually the entire town.
When pressed for comment, Police Chief Haywood Jablome responded “What did you expect? You put a bunch of monsters from outer space in a house with booze, you’re gonna get stuff like this.”
Several of the alleged perpetrators were reported to have chopped off the heads of their enemies and raised them into the sky, roaring loudly to remind the gods of the great Blood-Sport and drawing several noise complaints.
One of the alleged combatants, identifying himself as “Bloo, AKA Grand Masta Span-kay” was reported to have webbed several patrons of the local Seven Eleven to a nearby tree and laid eggs in their chest cavities.
“It’s really inconsiderate,” said local resident Mike Hunt, “What asexual Lovecraftian abominations do behind closed doors is their business, but doing that stuff out in public is in extremely poor taste.”
The facehugging was not the only notable event. Indeed, cellphone footage of what appears to be a giant bendy straw has become a Youtube sensation.
By 5:00 AM, the local monster-wrangling unit was called in to little effect, as several of the combatants allegedly destroyed the local Starbucks with advanced laser weaponry. Unit Leader Richard Rubre declined to comment on rumors that the nearby Wal-Mart Super-center had been converted into a hive by several of the alleged combatants, but released the following statement: “OH GOD! OH SWEET FUCKING GOD KILL ME! KILL ME BEFORE IT HATCHES! ARRAAAAAAAGH!”
While local police insist they have the problem under control, some residents have gone as far as to call for military intervention once several suspects allegedly ripped the spinal cord out of local celebrity and reality television star “Billy Badass: Bounty Hunter” due to his alleged attempt to handcuff one of the suspects. When asked whether police were considering calling in the Colonial Marine Corps, Chief Jablome responded “What are you, stupid? That was just a movie!”
By 6:00 AM, after a large portion of the town had been sucked into what anonymous eyewitnesses described as “a mini black hole generator” the suspects allegedly fled the scene in several spaceships. One of the alleged participants, a creature identifying himself as “Deathdrop, Lord Protector of the Moon and the Ninja Baboons contained therein,” released the following statement to the press: “We’ve got 2.5 tons worth of comic books and porn magazines, 6 crates of mango-flavored chewing gum, and the entire discography of Dokken, and by God we’re ready to party.”
A nearby creature, identified as "Concretehunter," subsequently yelled "Show us your tits!" at Mayor Whacker, who was on the scene to inspect the damage.
When asked where they intended to go next, a creature claiming to be their leader and going by the name “The_Doctor” responded “WE GO FORTH TO THE RINGS OF KTH’VLE’GNON-TH, WHERE DWELLS THE HIVE OF THE MIGHTY RIPPER QUEEN! ONWARD, MY BROTHERS!” upon which the ship blasted into space.
While structural damage was extensive and injuries plentiful, Stinky Steve says that he remains optimistic. “It’s not every day you get to see an 8 foot tall silicone-based life form drop acid and go skinny-dipping, so I’d call today a win, overall.”