As much as I'd love to delete it all, my ego just can't bring itself to deprive the world of its only Ace AttorneyXHaloXBurgerKing fanfiction sooo... here's a notice of shutdown. Just on the off chance that somebody stumbles upon Hal and Dave Play the Twin Snakes Part 1 and finds themselves eager for more overwrought pseudo-meta shenanigans.

It is over. Finished. Thank you for the likes, and sorry for the music. This blog will now return to its original purpose. Liking one cat meme every fifth solar eclipse, and a piece of artwork every third ice age.

Did you need an Evangelion and Line of Duty crossover? Mother of God no. But here's one anyway.

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"And then you just had to show up out of nowhere and-"

He didn't really blame her for being annoyed. For most people it wasn't exactly a common occurrence to find yourself being interviewed by a foreign police anti-corruption department while on a routine business trip. But Misato had clearly failed to consider that any associate of NERV could not reasonably fall under "most people", and Ryoji Kaji could only sit and smirk as he blocked out his former partner's complaints, rocking his chair lightly on its hind legs. 

"Are you listening Kaji?!"

A shitpost in which I parody the Smash community, Frankenstein some pictures over some music, and commit several crimes against the art of animation. 

 DISCLAIMER: I do not own Super Smash Brothers, Neon Genesis Evangelion, or Waluigi. This video is a parody and a parody only. 

 Music used- Vocals of "A Cruel Angel's Thesis" placed on top of the instrumental version of said song from the Neon Genesis Evangelion Nintendo 64 game.

 SFM models used-

 Waluigi- https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1568359324

Wario- https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=424236236&searchtext=wario

Galleom- https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1609009814&searchtext=galleom

Oh yes, we’re still jumping those sharks. This time Rtas ‘Vadum is serving Shinji Ikari at Burger King.

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The Half-Jaw Rtas ‘Vadum settled at his desk, a mass of paperwork looming over him. He would be lying if he claimed that the Arbiter’s entry of the Swords of Sanghelios into the fast food industry had been any less than a tremendous success. The icy relations between the sangheili and their human counterparts had slowly but surely begun to thaw, and the restaurant had even begun to attract customers from outside of the local area. It truly was incredible what devious marketing could do to make even the simplest of human meals seem like ‘exotic sangheili cuisine’, the Half-Jaw thought. Today alone they had served a group of tourists, a local politician attempting some kind of disingenuous public relations stunt to boost his chances at re-election, and a briefcase carrying older gentleman who managed the impressive feat of simultaneously appearing both frighteningly unseemly and superbly proper. So successful had the venture been that the Arbiter had even seen fit to provide ‘Vadum with additional staff, at least after weeks of pestering from the Shipmaster. ‘Vadum picked a pen from the pot on his desk. An Earth-made pen of course. At first he couldn’t entirely wrap his head around the diminutive instruments, but he was getting used to them. He actually had time to get used to them now that he had other workers to deal wit-

“Shipmaster!”

Other workers like the veteran sangheili blademaster who seemed to have selected ‘Vadum’s office door as his latest victim. The Half-Jaw sighed as the Blademaster’s pounds continued.

“You may enter, Blademaster.”

The door slammed into the wall, chipping the paint slightly. In its place stood an aged sangheili blademaster, his golden armour dulled from years of usage. However the weariness of his armour and body did little to conceal a ferocity in his eyes that would strike fear into even the most hardened of men. This was Vul ‘Soran. The former second in command of 'Vadum’s assault carrier Shadow of Intent, in his prime 'Soran had been a warrior without equal. Even entering his elder years, he had dispatched many of those foolish enough to try and cultivate a reputation through his defeat. Following the end of the Human-Covenant war, the Arbiter had made sure to appoint the legendary warrior to a position fitting of his stature. Assistant manager at a Burger King run by his old shipmaster. The belligerent commander let out a huff, clearly trying to attract said shipmaster’s attention.

“Yes… Blademaster?” the Half-Jaw questioned, his head resting against his hand as though to indicate that he had resigned himself to his fate. 'Vadum held 'Soran in the highest regard imaginable, he genuinely did. This did not mean however that he had to be pleased with his performance as assistant manner. In his short period of employment the veteran had already evicted two customers for what he deemed to be overuse of the condiment dispensers, attempted to fine another for spilling some water, and threatened at least three with his sword for some other vaguely defined offences. Were it not for the humans present one might have mistaken the situation for an evening on the bridge of Shadow of Intent. At the very least this was certainly how 'Soran seemed to interpret his job.

“A young human has been loitering at the window seat. I was prepared to deal with him myself, but Scion 'Juran reminded me that after the last loitering incident you wanted to be consulted on such issues before disciplinary action was taken.”

'Disciplinary action’. That settled the argument about what job the Blademaster thought he was doing then. 'Vadum tapped his helmet in a manner that seemed to suggest he had experienced such an inordinate degree of frustration lately that his mind was simply no longer capable of processing the feeling. At any rate, he would have to remember to thank 'Juran later. She may well have saved that human’s life. At the very least she had saved his limbs.

“Take me to this human, Blademaster. I will make a judgement from there.”

“As you command Shipmaster. Follow me.”

The golden armoured commander turned around and left the office. 'Vadum thought about leaving him to it, but he really couldn’t afford to let 'Soran cause another incident. God only knows what consequences his establishment would already have faced for the Blademaster’s behaviour if its proprietor didn’t have access to a glassing beam. He clenched his hand for a moment before following his assistant manager.

The pair made their way into the public section of the restaurant, and 'Soran gestured to indicate a small human male with a white shirt and black trousers sat at one of the window tables. He seemed uncomfortable, disturbed even, alternating between gazing out the window longingly and staring down at his feet as though attempting to hide his own existence from the outside world.

“How long has passed since his arrival?”

“An hour at the very least.”

“And during that time he has done what? Has he made any purchase at all?”

“Not even a thing. The human arrived, sat down, and hasn’t made a move since. Shall I remove him from the premises now?” the Blademaster growled, reaching for his energy sword. Vul 'Soran was never known for his patience with those who would go against protocol, and the end of the Great War had done little to dull this trait of his. The Half-Jaw knew that there would be no hope of defusing the situation peacefully so long as 'Soran was around.

“Stay your hand Blademaster, I will deal with the human. In the meantime I need you to make a call to some of our suppliers regarding shipments. You’ll find everything you need to know on my desk.”

'Soran grunted bitterly as he began his return journey to the manager’s office.

“I trust that you’ll inflict a punishment on the human befitting of his infraction?”

“I shall do whatever it is that I need to, Blademaster. Now go. I anticipate that the supply dispute will be solved by tomorrow.”

Now that 'Soran had gone, and taken the threat of a bloodbath with him, the Half-Jaw finally saw fit to approach the loiterer. It was a simple procedure really. The physical threat of an almost eight foot sangheili warrior combined with a commanding tone of voice was usually enough to get most disruptive customers to either cease their violations or leave. Despite what his assistant manager seemed to believe, the ignition of an energy sword was not something that needed to be done often. 'Vadum approached the human, who on closer inspection looked to be almost half his height. He didn’t expect a drawn out confrontation here.

“Human. You may make a purchase, or you may leave, but do not continue to abuse our hospitality.”

The human made no clear acknowledgement of the sangheili commander’s words, instead continuing to take in the beautiful view of some cars and a bush that could be seen through the window.

“Human!”

“Huh?!”

This second, firmer address was evidently finally enough to snap the human out of whatever train of thought he was on, and he turned to face the towering sangheili.

“As I have made clear. You may make a purchase, or you may leave, but your continued loitering will not be condoned.”

The panic-stricken male seemed paralysed in fear for a moment, but it was not long before he stumbled around his chair for a bit before lowering his head back towards the ground.

“S-sorry…”

The Shipmaster stood in thought for a moment, crossing his arms. Perhaps he had been too harsh on the human. He had meant to appear firm, not threatening. Besides that, the restaurant’s manager threatening what appeared to be a teenager would be a worse public relations disaster than anything Vul 'Soran could manage. He sighed in frustration before crouching down to the human’s level.

“I am truly sorry if you feel threatened human, that was not my intention. However these tables are reserved for paying customers. Do you or do you not intend to make a purchase?”

“I- No… sorry.” The human said, continuing to shamefully look between at the floor tiles.

'Vadum couldn’t help but feel curious about the young human’s motivations. Most loiterers came in groups, with the goal of disrupting actual customers or simply abusing the staff in some misguided search for retribution regarding the Great War. This one simply sat alone, away from the other patrons and making no attempt to draw attention to himself.

“I see… Well in that case, I am afraid it is company policy that I ask you to leave the premises.”

It was this comment that finally emboldened the human to some degree. He looked directly at the Shipmaster, and it was this that allowed 'Vadum to finally see just how miserable this child was. His blue eyes looked tired, not in the physical sense but rather an emotional one. As though they had been drained of all desire to carry on existing, and were simply continuing to do so out of obligation. The Half-Jaw couldn’t help but feel a swell of pity for the human in this moment. He still didn’t know why he had chosen his establishment of all places to go, but it was now clear that he was trying to escape something, be it an obligation, a person, or something else entirely. And then the human spoke. His voice was still hesitant, but there was a new addition to his tone. Not one of confidence, but of desperation.

“P-please let me stay for a bit longer… I don’t-”

“One moment human,” the Half-Jaw interrupted, standing up and walking towards his office. He felt justified in his interruption. There was no use in letting the human publicly shame himself. He didn’t need to know what he was trying to avoid, it was already clear enough that he wanted to avoid it. 'Vadum wasn’t usually one for charity, especially not for humans. That didn’t make him void of pity however. Sending the human back out would only distress him further, and ultimately be of no use to anyone. Besides that it was late in the day anyway, so it wasn’t as though anyone was in desperate need of the extra table. He grabbed some earth currency that he kept for his own use from his desk, and headed back out. In his haste he completely ignored 'Soran, who simply glared at him in confusion while listening to the supplier waffle on over the phone. The Shipmaster didn’t intend to break company policy by allowing somebody to loiter without purchasing food, but he didn’t see much point in removing the human. He placed the currency on the counter, and looked directly at the sangheili manning the till.

“Prepare a hamburger and fries for the human.”

The other elite gave him a bemused look for a second before punching in the order.

“By your word Shipmaster. Can we have a name for that order?”

The Half-Jaw turned towards the human who had returned his gaze to the window.

“Human! Your name?”

The human turned back around, startled for a moment with an almost confused look on his face.

“Huh?! Oh uh… Shinji Ikari.”

Several hours later the Shipmaster was in the process of putting away the paperwork he had finally finished. After finally getting 'Soran to leave his office he had actually had a fairly productive few hours, and had managed to finish the whole lot half an hour before the restaurant was scheduled to close for the day. The whole operation was going unusually smoothly. At least it was until a furious Vul 'Soran appeared once more in his office doorway.

“Shipmaster! The human is still there.”

“He is a customer now is he not?”

“That was hours ago!”

'Vadum shook his head in a subtle manner. He really did wish 'Soran would stop treating the most minor of infractions as though they were capital offences.

“Do not worry Blademaster. I will have him leave the premises by closing time.”

“You made the same claim previously Shipmaster. With all due respect, should you fail to do so again I shall be forced to take matters into my own hands.”

“Yes, yes. I am sure that you would.”

The Half-Jaw passed 'Soran and left the office, partly to get away from his incessant complaining, and partly to ensure that the human went on his way before the Blademaster became violent. He walked back into the public area to see the human still sitting in the window seat. He didn’t seem quite as despaired as before, and had evidently stood up at least once to dispose of the packaging from his lunch. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

“Ikari was it? The establishment is closing for the day in half an hour; I would suggest that you leave soon.”

Shinji turned to look at him, nervousness once more overtaking his face as he realised the time.

“Y-yes sir. I’ll be sure to leave by then. Can I please just stay for a little bit longer?”

'Vadum considered bringing up the loitering policy, but figured it wasn’t worth it. There was only half an hour left anyway. He would solve the issue as he had done before.

“'Rodam! Prepare a basic ice cream for the human. We need to get some use out of the machine anyway.”

“Thanks… for the lunch too.” Shinji said, quietly and nervously.

“Do not concern yourself with it. I must ask though; why are you so eager to remain here?”

“It’s uh… it’s nice here. There’s nobody around an-”

“Does the human mean to insinuate that we are a failing establishment?” cried out Vul 'Soran, who was currently busy cleaning unoccupied tables, though seemingly more so with listening in to Shinji and 'Vadum’s conversation. The human male’s face turned red with embarrassment and a hint of fear.

“N-no sorry that’s not what I was saying…”

“Ignore him,” said the Half-Jaw. “You may continue.”

“I meant that there’s nobody here I know. I don’t have any responsibilities here, and nobody feels responsible for me.”

“And how did you find yourself here to begin with?”

“I uh, I ran off… Everyone there hates me anyway, so I figured they’d be better off if I left.”

“I see… and what drove you to this conclusion?”

“I uh- I mean I never did anything for anyone else. Whenever they had problems I just hid away until they figured it out themselves. I guess that’s my solution to most problems. Avoid everything until it goes away.”

“So Ikari… I believe the point you are trying to convey is that you hate yourself?”

“I… I guess so. But it’s justified hate right? I’m a terrible person. All I do is use other people to make me happy. I try to force them to love me because I can’t love myself, but then as soon as something happens to them I just run away. I don’t deserve to exist…”

“Perhaps that is so, human. But have you made any effort to solve that problem?”

“I- no, I just told you that. All I do is hide…”

Shinji buried his head between his arms and his legs. Sobbing noises came from within. The Half-Jaw decided to soften his approach, to an extent at least. He didn’t endorse Ikari’s attempts to avoid any meaningful interaction with others, but he wasn’t cruel enough to attack him for it.

“You know Ikari, for thousands of years the title of 'Arbiter’ has been bestowed upon certain Sangheili of great significance. The first Arbiters were the most wise and skilled warriors of all Sanghelios. Part king, part judge, they led the species through even the most turbulent of times. The title in this state lasted even after the formation of the Covenant. It was the very highest badge of honour imaginable to our people. That is until Arbiter Fal 'Chavamee rejected the lies of the prophets. 'Chavamee was branded a heretic, and upon his death the prophets saw fit to remould the role of Arbiter. From then on it would granted only to those deemed heretics. These 'heretics’ would be expected to redeem themselves by giving their life in battle for the Covenant.”

Shinji’s sobbing grew even more frequent. 'Vadum assumed that he had misinterpreted the story to be his way of saying that he could only find redemption in death. Perhaps it was a poor decision to tell this story at all, especially with the wounds of the Great War still fresh in humanity’s mind. But the point of no return was long past.

“That was not the point I was making Ikari. If you would allow me to finish the story, I was going to tell of Thel 'Vadam, the present Arbiter and leader of the Sangheili. I served in 'Vadam’s fleet for some time before his appointment as Arbiter. His faith in the prophets was unwavering, and his campaigns on their behalf were ruthless. I can only imagine how he felt when he was branded a heretic and stripped of his positions. As you may have guessed, 'Vadam was appointed Arbiter. He was expected to die in service of the prophets, as his predecessors did before him. But with time 'Vadam saw through their lies. When the prophets betrayed the Sangheili it was him who led us to join with humanity. Since the war he has made every effort to push for unity. Not only between the divided Sangheili factions, but with humanity and the former species of the Covenant. The Arbiter overcame the worthlessness that had been put upon him by the Covenant, and in doing so he restored the honour to his title. Do not assume that sacrifice is the only path to redemption Ikari. Find your own purpose; do not rely on those around you to give you one. Then you can open yourself to the viewpoints of others. Assist them with their struggles, do not push yourself away. There is pain to be found in forming relationships with others. Even the Arbiter could not unify all the people of the galaxy. But there is no joy to be found in wallowing in your failures, and you will never achieve true satisfaction until you grant those around you a glimpse into your true feelings, and allow yourself to take a glimpse of theirs. Fulfil your responsibilities, both to yourself and to them, and perhaps then you will find that yes, you do deserve to exist.”

Shinji raised his head and looked at the Half-Jaw.

“You- you really think so? But I can’t do that.”

“You will have to. Open yourself to others. Allow yourself to engage in meaningful interaction. Then, and only then, you will find worth in your existence. And besides that, I do not believe that you cannot. After all, you did here did you not?”

“I- I guess so…” Shinji said. He wiped his eyes on his arm, and stood up. “Thank you.”

The Half-Jaw nodded at the boy, slightly proud that his tangential story had made any positive impact at all.

“Think nothing of it. Now return to wherever it is you came from. Take your responsibilities head on, and open yourself to your fellow humans. Farewell Ikari.”

“I- yeah… Thank you.”

And with that the human boy left, placing the wrapper from his ice cream cone in the bin as he did so. The Shipmaster on the other hand turned and headed back to his office to finish the filing. Perhaps this fast food business wasn’t as pointless as he had thought.

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To prove that this blog is in fact not dead, 8 months on from its last post and having achieved nothing of any great significance in that time I have made the decision to “jump the shark”. I present to you the masterpiece of the century, “Rtas ‘Vadum serves Miles Edgeworth at Burger King”. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And would you like fries with that, human?” 

The Half-Jaw leaned awkwardly on the counter. As part of a diplomatic program to improve human-sangheili relations, the Arbiter Thel ‘Vadam had decided to purchase a franchise of a popular human fast food chain. He then made the obvious decision to assign his finest Shipmaster, Rtas ‘Vadum, to manage this franchise. The Arbiter did not consider however, that very few sangheili were particularly keen to go into a line of work requiring them to act in servitude to humans. This lack of staff had lead to the Half-Jaw being asked to man the tills himself on a near daily basis. This was not the most honourable position for the commander of the Shadow of Intent, but he begrudgingly agreed to comply on the promise of a better future for his people

The man in the burgundy suit awkwardly shuffled in place, staring intently at the menu ahead of him. “Erm... well... perhaps...” “YES!” The Half-Jaw looked behind the floundering patron to see a considerably more enthused female human sitting next to a male in a blue suit. The customer’s shoulders sagged as he looked directly at the Half-Jaw. “Yes... yes we will.” “As you wish human. Will that be all?” “I... suppose so.” The Shipmaster’s mandibles trembled as he punched the man’s order into the computer. He knew that following company policy he was required to speak the infernal phrase, and while he technically answered only to the Arbiter himself he also knew that he needed to set an example for the sangheili working under him; but the phrase was so painfully, disgustingly, infuriatingly... awful. He stuttered for a few moments, before finally spitting it out in a dreary, tired tone. “Then it is an even bite.” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunflower seeds are not the quietest of snacks. Set early Season 1

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Dana Scully was sat in the corner of the J. Edgar Hoover building's infamous basement office trying, and failing, to get some work done. More specifically, she was attempting to write to the Assistant Director explaining why chasing down a 'monster' (weirdo with a bear suit) that had haunted Colville National Forest for the last few months had been a valuable use of FBI resources. Her partner, Fox Mulder, was sat in the other corner of the office trying to produce evidence that chasing down some drunken members of a biker gang who claimed to have seen a UFO outside of a bar one evening would be a valuable use of FBI resources. Ordinarily she'd be pleased at how engrossed he was in his work. Obviously this was typical of Mulder, but today he wasn't even trying to explain his nonsense logic to her. It was honestly pleasant to, for once, be able to work in complete silence.

Crack

Well, almost complete silence.

Pthew

This, and this alone, was the reason Scully couldn't get any work done. It seemed that no work, no matter how invested in it he was, could stop Fox Mulder from indulging in his sunflower seed habit. His consumption of the salty snack was near constant, and he certainly wasn't being quiet about it. Whenever Scully finally managed to write a few words...

Crack

Pthew

He'd been engaged in this constant cycle of cracking and spitting since he arrived at the office this morning, yet his bag of seeds never seemed to empty. Scully looked up at the clock. Just a few more hours to go. She could take this.

She couldn't take this. An hour later and Mulder was still eating those damned seeds. If anything, he was eating them at an even faster rate than before. Every other minute...

Crack

Pthew

This was it. No more. No more of this nonsense. She turned around to face her fellow agent, who was facing down at his desk fiddling with some slides. His hand reached for the bag of seeds, and she knew then and there that she had to stage an intervention.

"Mulder."

His hand retracted, and he turned to face Scully.

"Hm."

"Do you think that you can stop eating while I'm trying to work?"

Mulder turned back to his slides, opening a cabinet as he did so.

"Whatever you say, your honour," he responded in his usual deadpan tone as he tried to force the bag into the packed cabinet.

Scully didn't think he was too happy about it judging by his sarcastic response, but to his credit he did at least seem to heed her complaint, so she dropped the issue there and turned back to her own work. Five minutes later and she was already making great progress, at this rate she'd be done by-

Crack

Pthew

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An Ace Attorney fanfic in which Maya invades Nick's kitchen. Can I write Pancake Day fanfiction almost two weeks afterwards? Why yes, yes I can. Set after T&T, but ignoring the mention of Maya being 19 it works anywhere. Pearls isn't there because I didn't want to write her. Italics represent Phoenix's thoughts.

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Phoenix stood in front of the mirror, desperately trying to get his hair into its usual position. Maya was scheduled to be coming back from a two-week training course in the Kurain Village today; so since he was not working on any cases at the moment, he had decided to meet her at the train station. After finally getting his hair back into its traditional spikes, he straightened his tie, walked to the door and turned the doorknob.

Phoenix practically did a double take when he opened the door. This reaction was provoked specifically by the sight of a 19 year old girl wearing a purple spirit channeling outfit and clutching a white plastic bag. More specifically yet, it was provoked by the sight of Maya Fey.

"M- MAYA!"

Maya put her hands together just below her face and nodded.

"Hey Nick!"

Phoenix straightened his tie once more as he regained his composure.

"I thought we were going to meet at the train station in an hour?"

"I needed to pick up some stuff so I took an earlier train."

Maya held out the plastic bag as though anticipating Nick to take it.

"Y'know what happened while I was gone?"

Phoenix took the bag from Maya's hand, taking a moment to inspect its contents.

Milk, flour, eggs... Wait, is she talking about Shrove Tuesday?

He directed his attention back to Maya, staring silently for a moment.

"...Maya neither of us are Christians."

The young medium recoiled at the statement, a look of shock plastered on her face.

"Wha... what does Jesus have to do with Pancake Day?!"

Phoenix's shoulders sagged, disappointed but not surprised at her true reason for being here.

"Of course... how could I think you were doing this out of anything other than pure gluttony..."

Maya puffed out her cheeks furiously as she held her clenched hands in front of her face.

"Shut up! They don't let us celebrate Pancake Day in the Kurain Village. Something about 'freeing yourself from desire'. Well I desire pancakes Nick, and you're going to help me make them!"

Phoenix grimaced nervously at the intensity of Maya's words.

"Okay, okay. Let me just-"

"Great! Thanks Nick," Maya shouted excitedly, as she grabbed the plastic bag from his hand and ran out to the kitchen.

That settles it. She's paying the gas bill this month.

Phoenix took a slow walk over to the kitchen, looking down at the mud Maya has tracked into his apartment.

"Maya can you take off your shoes when you come-"

He raised his head at the kitchen doorway to the sight of a cloud of flour, several milk spills, and some cracked egg shells that had evidently been thrown in the vague direction of the bin.

"-in..."

Maya tilted her head away from a large mixing bowl.

"Hey Nick! Do you have a whisk around here?"

The lawyer's eyebrow arched slightly, as though he was preparing to shout something. His expression then switched to a defeated one, as he turned around to exit the room.

"Bottom drawer. I'll leave you to it."

With unusual speed, Maya rushed over and held her arms out in front of him to block his exit.

"You can't leave yet Nick, we're almost at the best part!"

Phoenix immediately turned back around and finally entered the kitchen.

"Fine. But you're cleaning the place afterwards."

Several minutes later, the pair had finally finished mixing the batter. As Maya grabbed a bottle of oil from the cupboard, Phoenix placed a frying pan onto the hob. Maya poured a small amount of oil into the pan, and they began to cook the first pancake. Maya watched intently as the batter bubbled, with a significantly less entranced Phoenix standing beside her. Shortly after, it was time for the most pivotal point of the pancake making process. The moment at which the fate of the pancake, and the reputation of its creator, would be decided.

"Okay Nick... watch this!"

Maya clutched the pan's handle in two hands, and lifted it into the air with both speed and power. The delicious food spun in the air spectacularly for a few milliseconds, before flattening back out and attaching itself to the roof. Phoenix could only watch on in despair, as his assistant found new and innovative ways to create a mess in his beloved apartment.

"Do you want me to get a spatula, Maya?"

"Nope!"

Ten minutes later and the duo had managed to produce two plates of several pancakes, with several more on the ceiling. Phoenix squirted some lemon juice onto his own pancakes, and walked out of the kitchen with a knife and fork, while Maya remained inside, applying every reasonable condiment to her own pile. He sat at the table, and cut out a section of his food. Eventually Maya finally walked out of the kitchen, though without a knife or fork. She set her plate down onto the table and pulled out a chair. Before she could take a bite, Nick looked up at here.

"When did you get so into pancakes anyway? I don't remember you mentioning them before."

Maya put her hands together with excitement.

"How can anybody not like pancakes? There's only one thing in this world that I love more and that's- HOLD IT!"

Maya sprang up, as though something unexpected had come to mind. She grabbed her plate and ran out into the kitchen. Phoenix took another bite of his pancake, before standing up and following her out. He opened the door to the kitchen, and saw Maya kneeling on the floor throwing various foodstuffs out of his freezer.

"Maya! I need that food!"

"This is more important Nick! I really need to find something in here!"

After seemingly emptying Phoenix's entire food supply, she triumphantly held a packet of frozen burgers in the air.

"So you know how I said that I only loved one thing more than pancakes? Well that got me thinking. If I combined my favourite thing with my second favourite, wouldn't that make something even better?"

"I- I- I have no idea what to say here."

"Just finish your pancakes Nick, I've got work to do!"

After waiting impatiently for it to grill, Maya finally pulled a single burger out of the oven. She gazed in awe, immediately falling in love with the slab of meat. Resisting the temptation to eat it as it was, she placed it in the center of one of her pancakes. She placed another pancake on top, and folded the burger up inside the two. Her mouth almost watering at the sight, she carried the plate out of the kitchen and placed it onto the table. Phoenix, who had since finished his own pancakes, called over to her.

"Maya- Maya what have you done?"

"This is it Nick. This is the single greatest thing ever created by anyone ever. This is... the burger pancake! And I'm gonna eat it right here, and right now!"

Maya grasped the combination of foods in her hands and raised it to her mouth. She opened it wide, and took a single, large bite. As she did so, her expression shifted to a completely blank, emotionless one. Phoenix called over, looking slightly confused.

"Maya? Are you okay there?"

Her blank expression remained for a few moments, before she finally swallowed the portion of her creation, and a look of immense satisfaction replaced it.

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A Red Vs Blue fanfic in which two soldiers attempt to sate their hunger.

Pre Season 1. Flowers is dead but no Lopez, Caboose, or Donut. Contains language because RvB.

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Dick Simmons was currently stuck in a 10ft hole in the ground digging through various packaged foodstuffs. His partner Dexter Grif had convinced him that since they had been on guard duty for several hours now, they were legally obligated a break. He had also convinced him that the best way to spend this break was to go and raid the food storage for Oreos. Simmons wasn't sure if American laws applied wherever this infernal gulch was, nor why the military considered Oreos a vital supply, but he thought he could do with a break. It wasn't like anything ever happened while they were on watch anyway. As it turned out though, this 'break' actually meant a different kind of work. Since the base was only comprised of one room, Sarge had decided that the best place to store supplies was under the ground. Thus whenever any of them required food, they were forced to dig their way down since Sarge insisted on refilling these holes with sand each time they were opened. Something about the blues being "vultures". Simmons had managed to make his way into the food storage, though Grif didn't provide a great deal of help. In the end however it seemed his efforts were for nought, as there was not an Oreo pack in sight. Simmons called up towards his lazy co-worker.

"We don't have any!"

"What the hell? I swear to God the shipment only came in yesterday..."

Simmons put his hands on his hips and cast Grif a stern glare through his helmet.

"What were you doing last night?"

"...patrolling the canyon?"

Simmons maintained his gaze, eventually causing Grif to crack.

"Okay fine! I was watching the cricket! C'mon man, do you expect me to watch sport without Beer and Oreos?"

"Cricket? What the hell were you watching that for?"

"I wanted to watch the Falcons take on the Giants, but the TV here can't get any American broadcasts. So I took a look through the channels and figured "Cricket. That's just baseball with British people right?"."

"Grif. Have you ever actually played cricket or baseball?"

"Pffft, who the hell plays sport? You're just mad because I'm more cultured than you. The game sucked anyway, nobody ever got past second base. Idiots kept going backwards."

Simmons looked down and shook his head with a sigh.

"And in this time you managed to get through an entire shipment of Oreos and beer?"

Grif crossed his arms in disapproval.

"It was a long game okay. And what kind of guy do you take me for? An entire shipment of beer?"

This provoked a response from Simmons that was equal parts confused and oddly proud.

"Wait you mean you didn't drink the-"

"I just drank the alcoholic beer. That's only like half the shipment."

Simmons pride was immediately replaced with shame, though if he was ashamed of Grif for doing what he did, or himself for associating with Grif, he could not tell.

"Grif. You still murdered your liver! Hold on. This is a military installation, where the fuck did you get beer?"

"I have my methods."

"Grif..."

"It really is amazing what you can get into a military installation when it has literally no security whatsoever."

"Fine, keep being vague. You owe me one of those though."

Simmons pulled himself out of the hole along with his shovel.

"C'mon we need to fill this thing up."

Simmons began filling the storage facility with sand, yet his orange comrade remained in place.

"Are you gonna help?"

"I'm supervising."

"Supervising? It's a fucking hole, just help me shovel dirt into it."

"And what if you fall into the hole and break your legs? You'll need somebody to go and report that so somebody else lower down in the chain of command can get you out."

"How does holding a shovel impact your ability to do any of that?"

"Seriously Simmons, safety first."

After finally refilling the hole, Simmons turned to face his failure of a workmate.

"Well, we wasted our break digging and refilling a hole, and we didn't even get any Oreos out of it. Good job asshole."

"Okay, Simmons, I know this looks bad. But I think we can still get Oreos out of this, while technically working."

"What, you gonna start up a factory? Make your own knock-off brand? Sorry to burst your bubble Grif, but we don't exactly have the knowledge, materials, or legal aid to do that."

"Just listen. The blues are a military unit too right."

"Right."

"So surely they should have some kind of food shipments. Including Oreos of course. All we need to do is tell Sarge they're getting ready to attack, then he'll try to get the jump on them by attacking first. Thereby giving us an excuse to be at blue base. All we need to do from there is head right in and grab what we can."

"That... actually makes an uncharacteristic amount of sense."

"You know it does. Now get on the radio to Sarge."

Grif and Simmons gave eachother a short nod as their sergeant approached. Simmons had informed Sarge that the blues were plotting to attack red base tomorrow, thus causing the red leader to prepare a scheme of his own.

"Gentlemen. Simmons has told me about those dirty blues' diabolical plot, and I have decided that to protect our beloved base and flag from attack, we're going on the offensive."

Simmons and Grif stood in unusual silence.

"Ya got anything to say about that Private Grif? Any disrespectful remarks or acts of insubordination?"

"Absolutely not sir."

"Excellent. I see my teachings are finally being drilled into you! My only regret is the violence and abuse it took to get there..."

"...Thank you...sir?"

"Of course it was a particularly effective method, all the shotgun shells and beatings. And you were a particularly awful soldier and human... Looking back I don't really regret it at all. Maybe one more for good measure."

Grif let out a high pitched scream as Sarge battered him to the ground with a single blow from the edge of his shotgun to Grif's head.

"Now then. We'll charge at them in a triangular formation. You two will stay at front, directly ahead of me. This means if they fire at us you should provide an effective shield while I contemplate the best course of action. You got that men?"

"Sir, yes sir." Simmons responded with a hearty salute.

Grif however remained on the floor, simply letting out a groan of pain. Sarge looked down at him.

"Back to your insubordinate ways huh? In that case I think we'd best charge in single file with you at the front."

Grif let out another groan.

The red team let out a loud battlecry as they charged towards blue base. The group was once singlefile, but had since devolved into a mess of individual soldiers. When they made it within attacking distance, Sarge gestured at his team to stop moving and called out to the enemy team.

"Attention blue team. This is the red team. Prepare for your imminent demise."

Two voices could be heard bickering inside the base.

"Just go up there already!"

"Why the hell should I have to deal with those assholes?"

"Because I'm the leader, I gotta stay back here and make tactical decisions."

"You're not the leader! We're the same goddamn rank!"

"Yeah well that's not the point here. The point is, you always say how much of a smooth talker you are, so go smoothtalk the reds! Just get out there and negotiate with them or something!"

"Me? But you're the leader, shouldn't you be in charge of negotiating?"

"Fine! I'll talk to them. You're coming up too though!"

A cobalt soldier with a sniper rifle made his way to the top of the blue base, with a teal soldier walking up behind him. The cobalt soldier lifted up his rifle and pointed it at Sarge.

"Okay assholes, get the hell away from our base."

He fired several shots meant for the red sergeant, all of which missed. Simmons leaned over and whispered to Grif.

"This is our chance. Come on."

The two ran away from the ensuing 'battle' and around to the side of blue base.

"Okay. Now we just have to find their food storage. I'll start digging here, you try that green patch over there."

"Uh, Simmons, don't you wanna try inside?"

"What? No! What idiot would waste valuable space like that."

Grif's shoulders sagged.

"You really need to stop listening to Sarge dude."

Simmons glared at him for a moment before relenting. The two walked inside the base to find a poorly organised shelf with a post it note reading "Food" in lazily scrawled handwriting stuck to it. The pair began digging through the supplies in an attempt to find the coveted biscuits.

After a while of searching Simmons turned around to see Grif fearfully backing away from the shelf.

"Grif? What's wrong?"

Grif's tone was a nervous one.

"Take a look."

Simmons moved over to Grif's section of the shelf. He grabbed a blue package and let out a depressed sigh as he read out the label.

"'Tesco Value - Vanilla cookies'"

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A Red vs Blue fanfic in which the Red team commit a heinous crime.

These shall be shorts set prior to season 1. Timeline wise, Flowers is dead but Lopez isn't done yet and Caboose and Donut haven't turned up yet. Contains language because RvB.

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"Just do it Simmons. Nobody'll care!"

"No Grif, I'm not gonna do it."

"C'mon Simmons. If nobody watches movies, nobody will make movies. If you want entertainment, you gotta show your support for the guys making it."

"By pirating the movie!?"

Grif smiled broadly, though the effort was lost under his helmet.

"Yes! Exactly! Glad to see you're coming around."

"But if we steal movies, studios won't have money to make more. This isn't supporting anyone!" Simmons yelled venomously, though rather hypocritically seeing as he was currently hunched over a monitor scrolling through a dodgy piracy site.

"That's where you're wrong. If we steal studio movies, they won't make money and clog up the theaters! That way they'll have more room for the indie crap you love."

Grif smirked, confident that the situation was in his control.

"Right. So you pirating 'Friday the 13th Part 34: Jason does Manchester' is actually an elaborate ploy to save the movie industry."

Grif placed his arm on the maroon soldier's shoulder.

"You're welcome Simmons. Besides, this one is worth it. They brought back Kane Hodder!"

Simmons jerked his head in annoyance.

"It's not even really him. Kane Hodder's been dead for hundreds of years. This is just facial capture and a voice actor. Jason's a mute with a mask anyway!"

Grif turned the other man to face him, placing a hand on each shoulder.

"Simmons. It's Kane. Hodder. Don't get caught up in the details."

Simmons pushed Grif away and got back to work, grunting furiously.

"I still can't believe that you don't see the problem with this. Haven't you ever watched a DVD?"

"DV whatcha?"

Simmons muttered disappointingly, "Oh right. You were one of those Netflix kids."

Grif tilted his head in confusion, "Netflix? Is that Korean piratebay?"

"You poor, poor criminal..."

After a while of scrolling Simmons finally made it to the film the pair sought. His hand hovered over the download link for a while, before he moved away from the computer.

"Nope. I can't do it."

Grif shook his head.

"Simmons..."

"No Grif, seriously. This is wrong!"

"In that case..."

A loud whistling noise played as Grif turned on his radio.

"Emergency in the base. Over."

A gruff southern accent came through Grif's speaker.

"Affirmative. I require a location. Over."

"The only room in the base. Where the fuck else? Over."

"Affirmative. That you Grif? Over."

"Uhhhh... negatory? Over."

"Affirmative."

The voice's volume suddenly increased drastically.

"Simmons, you there? Codeword dirtbag. Over"

Simmons responded confidently and loudly.

"Affirmative sir! Over."

Simmons slowly walked over to Grif as the orange soldier moved backwards waving his hands about, his cries for help drowned out by the whistle of his radio switching off.

The leader of the Red team, sergeant Sarge, entered the base's lone room to a pleasing sight. His loyal soldier Dick Simmons standing to attention, while giving a hearty salute. Rather more disappointingly, though not unexpectedly, his other soldier Dexter Grif was more focused on nursing a recent injury. Disrespectful idiot can't even muster a single salute, Sarge thought. Back in his day soldiers would show their respect to their superiors through even the most intense storms of bullets and plasma.

"Simmons. Status report."

"Sir! Grif was attempting to unlawfully download a movie. Sir!"

Sarge looked down at the pathetic, mildly wounded soldier.

"I see you carried out my orders. Excellent work Simmons."

"Thank you sir!"

"Piracy huh... I can't believe a member of my squad would sink so low. The movies we have here not good enough for ya?"

Grif raised a hand, as though begging for mercy.

"Sarge, every movie we have here is a John Wayne flick."

"What else do ya need? Frankly you could learn a thing or two from 'True Grit' or 'The Searchers'."

Grif continued gesturing at the red leader.

"I know. I loved him in 'A Fistful of Dollars' too. But I really was doing this for the good of the Red Army."

Sarge recoiled in confusion before regaining his aggressive tone.

"The good of the Red Army? How can a criminal act be good for anybody?"

Grif, more desperate than ever, clasped his hands together and leaned forward.

"Ok. Think about this for a second. If nobody's paying for movies, nobody's making movies. So what will theaters show? Propaganda films! Propaganda films Sarge! Remember when you first learned about the true enemy, the blue enemy? Well a whole new generation is gonna get that same experience. Red Army recruits will be everywhere. The blues won't stand a chance!"

Sarge's shocked expression was masked by his red helmet.

"He's right... The blues wouldn't stand a chance... Well I suppose the Red Army handbook doesn't say anything about pira-"

"You actually read that?"

"Shuddup Grif. What I was saying is that the law of the Red Army is more important than the law of America, and we're not technically in America. But it would still be a stain on my soul. Gah! Why did the good lord give us morals!"

Sarge suddenly turned to face his second in command.

"Simmons! Get that movie downloading!"

"Yes sir!" Simmons responded with a salute before dashing to the computer.

Sarge turned his attention back to the orange offender. Grif looked up, defeated.

"Does this mean I can go now?"

Sarge pumped his shotgun and raised it up so that it was level with Grif.

"Fill your hands you sunnuva bitch!"

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Piracy is wrong, don't do it.

An Ace Attorney fanfic in which a legendary prosecutor guides a rookie

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Godot stood at the counter of the Prosecutor's Office break room as he waited for the old and broken down coffee machine to start up. Ordinarily he wouldn't settle for this second rate "instant" stuff, but he was running out of his own blend and he had to conserve what was left for the trial tomorrow. Godot had stayed behind late at the office, making his final preparations for his first trial as a prosecutor. The case itself was nothing special, an urn stolen by an unusually popular thief. What mattered was his opportunity to defeat Phoenix Wright in court, and claim his vengeance. The machine finally started up, making a noise more akin to a ten ton truck or a double decker bus than a coffee maker, and his drink slowly dribbled out, mere drops at a time.

Godot jumped slightly at the sound of somebody humming, given the time of night he had assumed that he was alone at the office. A strange looking man in a grey suit opened the door and walked in. He gave a cocky smirk and looked at Godot.

"I don't believe we've met before. Part of the new batch eh?"

Godot ignored the man, wondering to himself why who he presumed to be a member of the janitorial staff was wearing a suit. A cheap one, but a suit nonetheless. Oblivious to his lack of interest, the man walked forward and held out his hand.

"Winston Payne. You?"

Godot didn't even look at the man, keeping his head locked directly forwards. He wouldn't normally be so rude, but he wasn't too happy about being interrupted by a man with seemingly no traits worthy of respect. Besides that, he wasn't interested in small talk right now. He had exactly two goals for the night, drink some coffee, and prepare a case that would destroy Phoenix Wright. He didn't intend to disrupt his progress towards either of these goals.

"Godot."

Payne stared at Godot for a few more seconds, before eventually getting the message and lowering his hand. After regaining his wits he restored his prior smirk.

"Mr Godot eh? Seeing as you're still around at this time of night, I'd guess that you're getting ready for your first case. Which one are you on?"

Godot grabbed his coffee as the machine stopped whirring. His tone was slightly less cold now that he realised there was no escaping this conversation.

"The Masque De Mask case, supposedly he stole a precious urn this time."

Payne nodded while making some strange hand motion above his thinning hair,

"And the defence?"

"Mr Phoenix Wright."

Godot's grip on the mug tightened as he ground his teeth. Payne carried on talking casually.

"Wright hmm? You know I'm something of a rival to him. I'll be honest, looking at the way he handles his trials I'm not too sure he's been running them honestly. Attorneys these days just can't be trusted not to forge evidence. Of course it's happening over here too, I'm sure you've heard of that "demon prosecutor" Edgeworth."

Edgeworth, where had he heard that name before? Godot pondered this as he took his first sip of the prosecutors office coffee. His first impressions were... not good. His face contorted as he swallowed down possibly the worst coffee he had ever drunk. Payne didn't seem to notice as he carried on his monologue.

"You know I'm something of a courtroom legend in my own right. Back in the day I was known as the rookie killer, I went seven years without a single loss. If you were a rookie defence attorney... well, let's just be glad you aren't one of them. Of course as a veteran of the prosecutors office, I feel obligated to give you some advice. Show you the ropes if you will."

Godot smirked slightly. So this was the one his kitten dominated while he was gone. He turned to face Payne for the first time.

"I remember reading about you now. Mia Fey defeated you in her second case as a defence attorney. And what have you achieved since? You haven't won a case in four years."

Payne gave an almost comical physical reaction to this, as he stuttered to defend himself.

"W-well, I can't help it that defence attorneys are cheating scum now, somebody has to stand for the truth!"

Godot continued his offensive, "Surely the truth would grant you a win here and three."

"Well- well..." Payne's tone shifted to a quiet, embarrassed one.

"I won a competition to name the prosecutors office hotdogs..."

Godot turned back around and took another sip of his coffee.

"I fail to see what you of all people can offer me."

Payne, desperate to restore his lost honour, returned to his strange stance and renewed his smirk.

"Then perhaps you lack vision my friend. I'll say to you now what I said to my brother before his first trial, "It's all in the evidence". If you can find one piece of decisive evidence and cling to it, the trial's yours. My brother took my advice to heart, and since then he's always managed to find the most incredible piece of evidence mere moments before the trial starts."

Godot kept his gaze on the far wall.

"By which you mean to say that his evidence lacks credibility?"

Payne did yet another of his comical double takes.

"You're not accusing Gaspen of-"

He cut himself off and returned to his prior pose.

"I'll just forget you said that. Anyway the other thing I wanted to tell you is this. Trust your witness. If the defence jumps on the witness and tries to pin the crime on them, don't intervene. Take a backseat and let the witness rebuke them with a decisive testimony. If you follow these two pieces of advice, the trial will be over in a day."

Godot gulped down the last of his coffee and placed the mug on the counter.

"I'm sure it will be," he said bluntly as he headed towards the door. Payne scrambled after him.

"Wait! Maybe we can talk again after the trial tomorrow? I don't get much conversation around here. Most of the rookies place too much stock in win records, no interest in the truth."

Godot opened up his office and on walking in made sure to immediately gain control of the inner door handle.

"Goodnight, Mr Payne."

A fanfic in which a rage filled child takes on his rivals.

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Eli stared his rival in the eye as he held the spinning top in position. One of the child soldiers had found the toy lodged in a grate recently, and it had since taken its place as the most valuable item on Mother Base for all of them. Surely the one who could spin it for the longest must be the strongest, smartest member of the group. Eli didn't enjoy partaking in such children's games of course, but this was no game. If the White Mamba were to reassert his dominance as leader of the group he would have to defeat any challengers in a duel of spin the top. His 'comrade' Etepe was the current champion, with a spin time of 27 seconds. Eli would not take this lightly, and while he was initially hesitant to engage in such activities it was Etepe's betrayal that spurred him to enter the ring. Said 'ring' being the crowd of children who surrounded the two, ready to watch the day's battle. Eli held the top, this was a battle of wits and not strength. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Upon opening them he cast Etepe a diabolical smirk and let the top go.

The crowd watched with nervous anticipation, could Eli reclaim his place as leader? The top spun, and spun, and spun while the children dutifully counted.

"Twenty five"

"Twenty six"

"Twenty seven"

"Twenty eight"

At this moment the top began to stutter somewhat, before eventually stopping.

"Thirty seconds!"

Eli rose from the ground, victorious. His victory was decisive, far beyond what anyone else could hope to achieve. No matter how hard the rest tried, they could never surpass the White Mamba! The children cheered on their leader. Eli looked down at Etepe, the treacherous fool who had attempted to usurp control of the group. He'd make sure Etepe got what was coming to him, but not now. Now was a moment of triumph!

Eli raised his fist and cheered, with the rest following suit.

As the crowd began to calm down and dissipate, the mysterious gas mask wearing child floated over. "The Third Boy" was what Eli had heard the higher ups call him. Eli didn't trust this "Third Boy", but he was a valuable asset. He seemed to be intent on executing Eli's will no matter what, which until the discovery of the spinning top had been a great asset in asserting his control. Maybe he could help control what was left of the crowd. To Eli's surprise however, the boy simply floated past him and over to the spinning top. He raised his right arm, which as per usual was covered by an untied straitjacket. The boy then turned the top upright and began spinning it, all without even getting close enough to touch it himself. The top span for what seemed like an eternity, never losing any of its momentum. It went on and on for 30 seconds and beyond. Eli simply stood in place, a look of shock on his face, as the crowd that once adored him rushed over to the young psychic. The Third Boy himself did not acknowledge this crowd, instead keeping his focus on the spinning top.

From several meters away Kazuhira Miller and Revolver Ocelot stood and watched the unusual sport. After a while Miller spoke up.

"How the hell are they enjoying that piece of crap so much?"

"You said you wanted them to be kids Miller, this is how kids work."

"I guess so. At least they aren't attacking our men anymore, or each other for that matter."

"They needed something to compete for. As pointless as it is, that top provides said competition. You really should have figured this out a while ago."

Miller scowled, "We don't have the budget to entertain kids, okay."

"And your "Ultimate Burger" is a more worthwhile investment?"

"Shut up, that thing is gonna- Wait, what the hell is Eli doing?"

Ocelot turned his head to where Miller was looking. Eli seemed to be screaming about something, but the other children were ignoring him completely. In a fit of rage he proceeded to run at the top, still spinning thanks to the Third Boy's powers, and kick it over the edge of the platform and into the ocean.

"..."

"..."

"I'll get the security team ready."

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Whadd’ya want from me an actual title? Ash shows Pablo the proper way to deal with a deadite. This doesn’t have an exact timeline, and I’m not even sure if it can fit anywhere in canon, but it’s set early on in the series either way.

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Pablo ran through the forest, desperately trying to escape his pursuer. Ash, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to bring back the lone "survivor' from a nearby bar the Ghostbeaters had recently cleared of deadites and alcohol. This "survivor" had turned out to be a deadite herself. The revelation had not surprised Pablo or Kelly, although it did provoke an almost theatrical reaction from Ash. As was typical of deadites, the former human would later decide to engage in some attempted murder. Ordinarily this would be a simple problem to solve for the trio, stop the delta and finish her off on the side of the road. Ash though, ever the wise man, had decided that tonight the group were going to be staying out in a dark forest. "Old habits," he said, before sending Pablo and Kelly out into the forest to set up camp. He said that he had some business to take care of in the trailer, so he wanted them to get a head start. Not doubting the saviour of humanity, the two set out to complete their task. Several minutes later however, an anguished cry was heard. Not one of pain, but one of sorrow. It was said saviour lamenting the fact his latest partner had turned out to be a demonic monstrosity. Not long after, Pablo had found himself separated from Kelly and dashing through a pitch black wood with no means of defending himself. The deadite's horrible screeches grew ever louder as he grew ever more exhausted. Eventually he reached a point where he physically could not keep moving, and was forced to slow down as he caught his breath. Sensing an opportune moment to strike, the pursuing deadite leapt at Pablo, forcing him to the ground

Pablo struggled relentlessly, but unequipped he stood no chance against the sinister mockery of a being. "I'll swallow your soul!" As the deadite raised its hand, preparing to strike the killing blow, the sound of a loud gunshot filled the air. The deadite's midsection was ravaged by the shot, and what remained fell directly onto Pablo. The thought of having a limp body on top of him made him sick, and he became paralysed with fear temporarily.

The owner of the gun that felled that deadite, as well as many others, eventually made his way over to Pablo. Ashley J Williams, the so called saviour of humanity. The 'hero' rolled the deadite corpse over, and offered his hand to the younger Ghostbeater. "You getting up kid?" Pablo accepted Ash's help and stood back up, but he did not respond. Instead he simply stood in shock, a blank expression on his blood stained face as he breathed heavily. Ash looked over to Pablo, "Sorry about that but... you'll get used to it eventually." He moved his right arm up to try and console Pablo, but remembered the chainsaw and put it back down before he could get it around the younger man's shoulder.

After a few seconds, Pablo finally spoke, though in a sombre tone. "What do we... what do we do we do with the body?" Conversely, Ash had perked up a fair bit, this was all in a day's work for him. "Not just yet Pablo, the only way these deadites stay down is if we take 'em apart completely. She'll be back up soon enough, so now we just sit around and wait." Pablo looked over at Ash in a clearly confused manner, Ash's sheer lack of logic restoring his usual mood. "Why don't we just... you know," he mimicked a chainsaw with his hands, "Why not finish it now?" Ash turned his head to Pablo and raised an eyebrow. "Okay Pablo, I know you're just a Value Stop employee but-" "You're a Value Stop employee too." Ash raised a single finger as though to indicate to Pablo "Shut up." "I know you're just a Value Stop employee, so this whole hero gig is new to you, but we kind of have some rules to abide by. Say for instance we have our enemy laying unconscious on the ground. We can't just shoot 'em then and there, that would be dishonourable. What you gotta do is wait for them to wake up, drop a one-liner, and THEN blow their face off!" Uncomfortable with how casually Ash had said that last part, Pablo simply nodded and turned back around.

The pair stood in place for a minute or two, waiting for their moment to arrive. Suddenly the body on the ground moved slightly. Pablo jumped back in shock, before slowly attempting to walk back forward. Ash blocked Pablo's path before moving forward himself. "Let the expert show you how it's done kid." Pablo stood a metre or two back from Ash, and watched to see how the veteran deadite slayer would deal with the situation. Strangely, the colour returned to the deadite's face, making it look human once more. This juxtaposed greatly with its destroyed midsection, but were it not for that it would be no different from a normal human. In a last ditch attempt at self-preservation, it pleaded with Ash to let it live. "Ash, please. I'm sorry I... I can't help it. Please Ash, help me." "Cry me a river baby." A gunshot echoed through the forest as Ash loomed over the corpse in a manner bearing an almost comical resemblance to the stereotypical "stoic hero".

Ash re holstered his boomstick and turned to Pablo. "See what I mean Pablo?" Pablo nodded awkwardly. "Anyway, find Kelly and get back to the Delta. I'll catch up with you two soon." "Are you going to bury her?" Ash turned back around while pulling the cord of the chainsaw. "Of course... I just need to dismember her body first." Not particularly wanting to watch this part of the process, Pablo turned around and left to find Kelly. As he walked, the sound of a chainsaw starting up filled the air.

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