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The Apocalyptic Council: Suddenly, an End!

Posted by meekrat on September 30, 2010

The head of the Apocalyptic Council sat at his desk in the darkness. He couldn’t remember being a young man. He couldn’t remember being an old man, either. He could only remember the days when he had been less ancient, but he truly wanted to remember his younger days so he could undo the curse of immortality that had been placed upon him. This was the reason he had founded the Council, after all. Surely the end of the world would end him as well. It was all he dreamed about, all he wanted: the sweet embrace of death. He could not even remember the name he had been given at birth, and simply called himself Checker. He couldn’t remember why.

The door opened, letting in a sliver of light and a young man with claws.

Checker squinted, his ancient eyes rapidly adjusting to the light. “Ah, Joshua.”

Joshua leaned against the wall and took a steel file out of his pocket and began to sharpen his claws, “How are you doing today?”

“Absolutely wretchedly,” Checker hobbled over to a file cabinet and began paging through its files, “Any luck?”

“None whatsoever,” said Joshua, “We’ve sent out many agents to try and find out who you are and why you’re still alive. No luck yet. Also, we’ve had an infiltration.”

Checker slammed the file cabinet shut and hobbled back over to his desk, “Has it been taken care of?”

“Kind of,” said Joshua.

Checker cursed under his breath, “Kind of. How do you kind of take care of an infiltration? Did someone escape?”

“Nothing like that. We seem to have attracted some very interesting individuals.”

“How interesting?”

“Charleston Charge, for one.”

Checker hobbled back over to the file cabinet and began paging through the files contained within. The cabinet was a surrogate memory, though some things had been forgotten entirely. Joshua sat and waited patiently for Checker to pull out a file, read it, place it back into the cabinet, and hobble back to his desk.

Checker grinned, though his teeth had long ago been replaced with dentures, “Charleston Charge, eh? Good thing you’ve captured that one. According to my memory, he’s quite important. Could have put this entire operation in jeopardy.”

“That’s not all. We also captured a young man named Edwin Cloudstar. No, don’t bother going to your cabinet. He’s not in your memory,” said Joshua.

“He sounds familiar, though,” said Checker, “So familiar. Cloudstar. Hm. If he’s not in the cabinet then he can’t be important. Good work, all the same.”

“We also captured the Impossible Mister Frink and Vincenzo Fitzpatrick,” said Joshua.

Checker’s eyes lit up, “I remember those lads! Dashing young men. I remember seeing them so many years ago. Weren’t there more?”

“Yes. They weren’t here, but I think we should take the precaution of contracting some outside help with this. I’ve got contacts out there, and there’s probably more than a few people who would like a piece of the Basset Hound Brigade,” said Joshua.

Checker nodded, “No. The Basset Hound Brigade and Charleston Charge? We’ve got to move our operation.”

Joshua balked, “Do we have time?”

Checker chuckled, “You know damn well that you and I have all the time in the world.”

“I know that, but really, sir. We’re on a time-table.”

“We’ve got time. It’s better to just move than to have our whole operation dismantled by the likes of them. Get on it, please. Release the prisoners, first. Give them a fight, but let them go. We mustn’t let on that they haven’t won, nor can we kill them. It’ll bring the rest of them down upon us” said Checker, leaning back in his chair.

“Of course,” Joshua left the room, grinning. He was itching for a fight.

***

Charleston Charge paced the cell while Mister Frink sat in the corner and thought. Vinny Fitzpatrick gazed longingly out the window while Edwin Cloudstar remained up against the wall, being unable to move.

“Back in the day, we could count on the Little Spick to get us out of jams like this,” said Vinny with a sigh, “Back in the day. I wonder what he’s up to?”

“He’s dead,” said Mister Frink, “I think Orphan Freelance is still operational.”

“That’s sort of racist, isn’t it?” asked Charleston, who had stopped in his tracks upon hearing “the Little Spick”.

“It was a different time. Now, are we going to go through with this plan?” asked Mister Frink.

“It don’t feel right, Mister Frink, killin’ some lad,” said Vinny, “Even if he says he’ll just pop back.”

“It’s the only way,” said Edwin.

Vinny slumped to the ground, “Can’t we just wait for something to happen to you?”

“It’s impossible for anything to kill Edwin while we’re sitting in this cell,” growled Mister Frink.

Just then, a meteorite came flying through the window, hitting Edwin square between the eyes. It plowed through his brain and burrowed itself deeply into the wall. Vinny stared.

“We must act!” screamed Mister Frink, throwing himself against the door. It budged slightly, and Charleston aided him in the next impact. The door broke off of its hinges.

“Grab Edwin!” said Mister Frink, striding down the hallway. There were no guards. This bothered him.

Charleston threw Edwin’s body over his shoulder and Vinny followed. The quartet walked down the hallway to the next door, easily opening it.

“This can’t be right,” said Mister Frink, “There’s nothing in here but the sword.”

***

In the realm between life and death, Edwin watched as his companions carried his body down the hallway. There was a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see a tan red-headed woman wearing a purple blazer and skirt, holding a clipboard.

“Nice to see you again,” she said.

“Nice to see you, too, Camilla. I’m pretty sure I haven’t fulfilled the prophecies,” said Edwin.

Camilla looked at her clipboard, “No. Of course you haven’t. So what mess have you gotten into this time?”

Edwin pointed to Charleston, “I’m helping that guy with the hat stop a group dedicated to the Apocalypse. They had to kill me so that they could reunite me with my sword.”

“Fun,” Camilla wrote something on her clipboard and it vanished, “How’d you get separated from it in the first place? You haven’t died for a while.”

“What?” Edwin’s brow furrowed, “Then how did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” said Camilla, “Well, looks like it’s time for you to get back to living. Be careful. Not that I don’t like seeing you, of course.”

“Of course,” Edwin vanished from the realm.

***

Fifteen minutes later, the quartet was wandering through the mysteriously empty halls.

“This isn’t right,” said Mister Frink.

“You’re telling me,” said Charleston Charge, sidling along the wall.

“I feel a disturbance,” said Edwin, stopping dead in his tracks, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword, “Not really. It’s more of just bad mojo.”

Joshua stepped around the corner, his claws shining, “Hello. You can’t leave here alive.”

Edwin stopped and stared at Joshua, his hand resting on the sword’s hilt, and suddenly things made sense.

“Maddon! He’s you!” shouted Vinny.

“I’d love to know your history sometime,” said Joshua Cloudstar, “Not right now. Right now, we’re going to test your immortality.”

Edwin Cloudstar drew his sword, “Same to you.”

“So witty,” Joshua ran forward, claw raised. He brought it down, meeting Edwin’s sword and giving off sparks.

“Run,” said Edwin, attempting to force Joshua forward. Despite being dimensional twins, Joshua was stronger, and so this attempt met with failure.

As the pair continued to battle, Mister Frink and the others were running through the compound. Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and they fell to the ground.

***

Vinny Fitzpatrick awoke to find himself on Mister Frink’s couch. Charleston Charge was eating a plate of waffles on a cot next to him, while Mister Frink was already up and about. Edwin Cloudstar was nowhere to be seen, but Mister Frink’s son was there.

“Are you sure you don’t want the Neo-Bassets to track these people down?” he said, not wearing his uniform.

“You know them?” said Charleston, in between mouthfuls.

Brian Frink stopped, and then nodded slowly, “Yes. I’m their pal.”

“What happened?” said Vinny.

“Ah, good. You’re awake,” said Mister Frink, “It’s been nearly a week. To be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure what happened. All I know is that that compound has vanished into nothingness.”

“So we won?” said Vinny.

“I can only assume so,” said Mister Frink, pouring some tea.

“For the first time in years, I have nothing to do,” said Charleston, “It feels weird. I tell you what, though. I’m tendering my resignation with Brachiosaur. I’m going to do things my own way from now on. Maybe start a detective agency.”

“Bully for you,” said Mister Frink.

Vinny walked over to the table and took a cup of tea, “What happened to Edwin?”

“I don’t know,” said Mister Frink.

“The Neo-Bassets could find out,” said Brian.

“No. I don’t think we could find these people again unless they wanted to be found,” said Mister Frink.

***

Edwin Cloudstar floated in the void between universes once again, shunted once the Apocalyptic Council’s compound transported itself to its new location. Joshua was nowhere to be seen, and Edwin couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to his dimensional twin that made him think the Apocalypse was a good idea. Oh well. Soon, Edwin would either find his way back to a universe at some point soon.

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The Apocalyptic Council: Mister Frink’s Holiday

Posted by meekrat on September 27, 2010

Note: This is the finale of Choose Your Own Blogventure.
Note #2: This takes place before March Meekrat Madness 2010.

Charleston Charge awoke to find himself in a closet, and remembered what he was doing there. There was a conspiracy to bring about the Apocalypse, or at least to keep it on track, and Charleston had somehow become responsible for making sure that the world didn’t end. He opened the door to see a tribe of Mayans standing in the hallway, some walking and chatting with each other, some drinking coffee. They all turned to him and Charleston slammed the closet door behind him and hoped and prayed that his ally, Edwin Cloudstar, was able to find him.

***

Deep within the bowels of the Apocalyptic Council’s headquarters, Edwin Cloudstar sat in a dank dungeon. It wasn’t the worst dungeon he had ever been in, to be certain, but it was still quite annoying because they somehow knew how to circumvent the mystical connection he had with his sword. Again, not the first time, but no less annoying than all the other times. He sat and hoped that his ally, Charleston Charge, would be able to find him.

***

The Impossible Mister Frink sat in his breakfast nook, sipping some tea and reading his paper, basically enjoying his morning. His adopted son, Brian, was off on some adventure with some costumed heroes, so it was a fairly quiet day. Most days had been quiet since the unofficial disbanding of the Basset Hound Brigade, in fact. Not too quiet, of course. A man like Mister Frink knew how to create his own excitement, after all, but it was still nice to have a quiet day every now and again.

There was a knock at the door, the sort of knock that insinuated that if you didn’t open the door, then it would be opened by force. Were Brian there, Mister Frink likely would have continued sitting there enjoying the comic strips. Since he wasn’t, he cracked his knuckles and walked over to the door.

Vinny Fitzpatrick was standing on the other side, holding his aviator cap and goggles in front of him.

Mister Frink sighed and opened the door, “Good morning, Vincenzo. What brings you here?”

“I know we only get the ol’ team back together for big things, Mister Frink, but I got word that there’s the mother of all trouble brewin’ down south,” said Vinny.

“Very well,” said Mister Frink, “I suppose we’re expected to just go down there and solve things?”

“I was hoping,” Vinny smiled, “Only I wasn’t able to get anyone else.”

Mister Frink’s eyebrow raised, “What’s Douglas and Jenkins doing that are so important?”

“They’re on a case,” said Vinny, “And Mister Lucky’s nowhere to be found.”

“He’s busy with that blasted literature club,” replied Mister Frink, grabbing his overcoat, “Details, Vincenzo! Details!”

They walked to Mister Frink’s private airstrip, and along the way Vinny explained how he had found himself in contact with the new iteration of the spy organization, CAST, most notably a young woman who called herself E. A young man she knew had traveled south months ago and no one had heard from him since, and she was unable to travel there herself. Since she knew Vinny’s history with the Basset Hound Brigade, she hoped that he would at least check into it, which eventually led him to this point.

Mister Frink nodded, “Do we know where this complex is?”

“She says she don’t know,” said Vinny, “Could we take your plane? Only I had a bit o’ trouble wit’ mine.”

Vinny’s plane had been crashed, like the vast majority of his planes, into a small grove of trees several hundred yards from the airfield. He had never been able to land, except in the direst of circumstances. Mister Frink just tossed him the keys to the plane and hoped for the best.

***

Several hours later, the pair flew over some farmland.

“Have you been here before?” asked Mister Frink, pointing to a crashed bi-plane.

“Never,” said Vinny, “I think we’re on the right track. Look!”

A giant monster loomed in front of them, lumbering down the road, its massive black wings flapping slowly. As far as such things went, it wasn’t that terrifying, having the normal amount of arms and legs. Of course, all these arms and legs were tentacles, and its head looked like an octopus. It looked up and its giant coal-black eyes narrowed.

“It’s seen us, Mister Frink!” shouted Vinny, who threw the plane into a dive.

“Pull up, lad! Pull up!” screamed Mister Frink.

It was too late. The tentacle monster reached out and plucked the plane from the air. Instead of crushing it, he placed it gently on the ground, and then shrank, pulling his wings inwards. They formed a cloak around his body. He slithered over to the plane and knocked on the window.

“Are you two all right?” slobbered the demon.

Mister Frink and Vinny stared out the window, a look of shock upon Mister Frink’s face. Vinny, however, was either too afraid or too dumb to realize that he should be afraid, and gave the monster a thumbs-up. He hopped out of the plane.

“I’m so sorry about that,” said the tentacle monster, grasping Vinny’s hand, “I was in deep thought. I didn’t mean to make you crash.”

“No harm done,” said Vinny, gently pulling his hand away, “Say, you couldn’t tell us where some base for a bunch o’ Apocalypse nut-jobs is, could you?”

Mister Frink groaned.

“You’re the second two guys I’ve met today who are on their way there,” said the tentacle monster, “I’m S’treafael, but please, call me Steve. It’s right up the road. I’d love to help you storm the place, but I’m probably already in deep with my uncle.”

“No worries,” Vinny smiled. He saluted Steve and hopped back into the plane, “He said — ”

“I know what he said,” said Mister Frink, “Take us there, and for the love of God, keep us alive until we get there.”

***

Charleston Charge sat in the closet. He had built a small-scale model of his homeland, the Lost City of Uhld, out of various janitorial supplies. He pulled a voice recorder out of his pocket. He clicked the record button, “While trying to figure out what to do, I’ve built my home town. I would build a scale model of this place, but I’m not entirely sure what this place looks like.” He clicked it off and put the recorder back in his coat.

“At least they’re not trying to kill me,” said Charleston, idly knocking over bits of his model with flicks of his fingers, “They could totally get in here if they wanted to. Kill me right off.”

He leaned on his side and thought about taking a nap when he heard a noise. By the time he realized what it was, a small plane had crashed into the wall. Charleston barged through the door, knocking it from his hinges, and continued running down the hallway, holding onto his fedora-like hat. Behind him, the plane continued to come, by this time its wings had snapped off and it was just the cockpit and fuselage sliding down the hallway, knocking over Mayans left and right. It began to slow, and Charleston braced himself for its impact, hoping his low-level super-strength would be enough to stop it entirely.

The plane slid into his ready hands and his feet began to skid down the hallway, but Charleston could tell that the plane was slowing down. Behind him, a wall continued coming towards him, and he hoped he would stop before he became a pancake.

He grinned and laughed, “After all, I prefer waffles.”

Soon, the plane stopped, several feet away from the wall. Charleston stepped back and sat heavily on the ground, trying to catch his breath. The plane’s doors opened and two men he recognized as the Impossible Mister Frink and Vinny Fitzpatrick hopped out.

Vinny looked at him, “You Charleston Charge?”

“I am,” said Charleston.

“We’re here to rescue you, though it may not look like it,” said the Impossible Mister Frink, “Now then, shall we get going?”

“Not yet,” said Charleston, “My friend is somewhere in this complex. Also, these people are trying to bring about the Apocalypse. Or make sure it happens. I’m not really sure. We have to stop it.”

“You were trying to stop it by yourself?” said Mister Frink, obviously impressed.

“No,” said Charleston, “I had a friend with me. Is Mister Lucky with you guys?”

“He was busy with other matters,” said Mister Frink, “Though I’m sure if he thought he was required to stop these people, then he’d be here by now.”

Vinny nodded, “Do you know where this friend of yours is?”

“No,” said Charleston again, “We got separated when we came in.”

“Damn and blast,” growled Mister Frink, “It’ll be impossible to find him!”

Just then, all the Mayans that had fled when the plane began to crash through the hallway returned. They took their spears and pointed them at the two Bassets and Charleston Charge. It didn’t take a genius to know what they wanted.

***

“I’m so glad you found me,” said Edwin, “I really mean that. Even if this really stinks as a rescue attempt.”

Charleston Charge was shackled to the wall next to him, with shackles strong enough to withstand his super-strength, “It’s not like we planned this.”

“I know. At least we’re all together now,” said Edwin, “Who are those guys?”

Vinny smiled, lying on his side. Both his hands and ankles had been tied. Mister Frink has shackled to the wall on the opposite side of Edwin and Charleston.

“Those are Vinny Fitzpatrick and Mister Frink. Two members of the Basset Hound Brigade,” said Charleston, “They’re adventurers. Bassets, this is Edwin Cloudstar.”

“Are they? Good,” said Edwin, “I’ve seen stranger.”

“Your hands aren’t bound,” said Mister Frink.

“They don’t need to. My sword’s on the other side of this wall, and the only way it leaves my back is if I grab hold of its hilt,” said Edwin, “It’s a mystical thing.”

“Vincenzo is, for some reason, not secured in any way,” said Mister Frink, “I can’t imagine why our captors would do this, but we can work this to our benefit. Vincenzo, please see if you can make your way over to Edwin. Good, good. Now, Edwin, can you untie Vinny’s hands? Good. I would hate to have to stand alone against these ruffians.” Mister Frink took a deep breath and then tore his shackles from the wall, freeing himself.

Charleston’s eyes went wide, “You’re super-strong?”

“Indeed I am, though I do prefer to use my wits instead of my fists. Needs must, however,” said Mister Frink. He grabbed hold of Charleston’s shackles, “On the count of three, boy! One. Two. Three!”

The shackles resisted at first, remaining secure against the wall, but eventually gave when Vinny lent his own strength to the effort.

“Now what?” said Edwin, still unable to free himself, “How am I going to get free?”

“What would Mister Lucky do?” asked Vinny.

Mister Frink chose to ignore that comment, knowing full well that there was no way he could match Mister Lucky’s intelligence. He was still quite formidable in that department, able to craft machines that pushed against the laws of the universe. Mysticism was not one of his strong suits, however, and so the mechanisms of the sword’s bond with Edwin were a puzzle he could not solve. Something else puzzled him, though.

“How did you get into this position in the first place?” asked Mister Frink.

“They killed me and tossed my body in here, and my sword in the other room,” said Edwin, “When I came to, I was stuck against this wall.”

“Hold on, killed you?” said Vinny, stepping back, “You a vampire?”

“No, I just can’t stay dead,” said Edwin, “I’m still not entirely sure how they did this. Usually, the only one able to lift my sword is me.”

Charleston turned to Mister Frink, “Couldn’t you just impossible us out of this situation?”

“It’s passive,” said Mister Frink, “So if you’re killed, the sword can leave your body, but the only one who can lift your sword is you?”

“That’s what I said. I guess they could have moved my body,” said Edwin.

“You’re not from this place, are ya?” asked Vinny, “You got the air of a traveler about ya.”

“No, I’m from a different universe,” said Edwin.

Vinny nodded, “You don’t stay in this business this long without picking up a few things.”

“We could smash through the prison door and the door to wherever they put Edwin’s sword, and then kill Edwin and carry his body to his sword,” said Charleston Charge, “Not the perfect plan, I grant you, but it’s the only one I’ve got.”

“Could work,” said Edwin.

***

Elsewhere in the compound, the second-in-command of the Apocalyptic Council sat and watched their captives on a closed-circuit television. He was sure they didn’t know they were being watched, and was quite pleased that none of them had realized what had gone on. He smiled. It was only a matter of time now.

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CYOB #72: Inside the Compound

Posted by meekrat on December 23, 2009

Dialog will now be color-coded. Charleston’s dialog will be black, Edwin’s will be blue, and Steve’s will be dark orange.

*CLICK*

We’re going to do some espionage on these guys, which is a shame because I really wanted to punch things until they fell down.

We have to be careful. You’re not as immortal as I am, we should see what we’re up against before we go in and start up with the violence.

We have a colossal demon with us, though!

I’m not going in with you.

What? Why not?

I’m in enough trouble with my masters as it is. If I openly oppose their plans anymore than I have, then they’ll do unspeakable things to me.

You have to admit, that’s a pretty good reason not to get involved any further.

I don’t HAVE to admit anything, but yes. We don’t want the tentacle demon to have unspeakable things done to him. Would Japanese schoolgirls be doing these things to you? That would be really ironic.

No. Just… no. I’ll drop you two off here. Best of luck to you.

Wait, I have an idea! If we just go in, they’ll see us coming and I doubt we’d hit the door before we hit the ground. What if you acted like you had captured us and was turning us in? That might help your situation out a bit, too.

That might work.

All right, let’s do this.

*CLICK*

Edwin and I are in the compound. Things didn’t go nearly as well as I had hoped. As it turns out, their alliance with the creatures of the abyss extends to a limited amount of omniscience concerning those creatures, such as our pal Steve. They knew our plan. Steve had to flee, and Edwin sacrficed himself and now I’m hiding in an air duct, and it smells really bad and I hate it. I take only minor solace in knowing that Edwin will be fine after he’s had some time to heal up. Now, I know in movies and whatnot they continually use the air-ducts as an efficent way to move around buildings and whatnot. My training as a TYRIS agent, and later as a defender of the Earth against the Apocalyptic Council, has taught me that this isn’t wise unless you’re especially light and nimble with the ability to know where you’re going in cramped quarters. Luckily, I’m fairy light and nimble, and-

OH SH-

*CLICK*

As it turns out, you should make sure that the air-ducts are able to support your weight. These used some sort of light-weight metal and were unable to support me. Luckily, I landed in the middle of a hallway and ducked into the nearest doorway. Also, there is nothing trying to kill me in this room, as it’s a janitor’s closet. They use little motorized garbage cans. I have an idea.

*CLICK*

I am now in one of the garbage cans after obtaining the remote control for it and cutting three holes into it. Two of the holes are so that I can see where I’m going, and the third is for this taser thing I found. If anyone gives me trouble, I’ll poke it through the hole and they’ll get electrocuted. Please don’t ask me how I know that this device works. As cover, I will use my tape recorder to synthesize beeps and whistles.

*CLICK*

I’ve spent the better part of the day inside of this rolling garbage can. I am hot, sweaty, and I’m starting to think that something was rotting in here but was unable to not smell until I got in here. It might just be me, however. Several people have referred to me as an artoo-detoo. What the heck is that? Anyway, I have found out some intel. Edwin Cloudstar is being held on a lower level, since they have a file on him and know he can’t be killed. How do they have a file on him yet TYRIS and all these other places have no idea who he is, since he fell out of the sky a week ago? How did they manage that? Are there other people from Edwin’s world here? That will be questions I will ask when I rescue him. I have also found out that, in addition to Mayans and creatures from the Abyss, the Apocalyptic Council has a diverse collection of businessmen, religious leaders, politicians, and random other people. Muslims, Jerusalem, Americans, Europeans, Mayans, Africans, Canadians, Asians… if they weren’t getting together to make sure the Apocalypse happened, then it’d be downright inspiring to see people of such different creeds and castes getting along so well. Most of them also have some sort of super-power, and if my training has taught me anything, it’s that whoever is the head of this thing will have either all of these powers or none of them, because I guess it’s a really good idea to make the head of your organization someone who is easier to kill than everyone else.

I have learned where the head offices, so to speak, are. I was at the door after rolling up and down the hallway. It’s the only room on that floor, but it’s guarded by beings who make the Gray Man and those ultra-fast Mayan soldiers look like exceptionally weak and slow children. I couldn’t get into the office, so I think I’ll have to fight my way in. While time is of the essence, I think I should probably rescue Edwin first, simply because having an invincible swordsman with me would increase my chances exponentially. I could, of course, go it alone, but I’m reasonably certain that doing such a thing would get me captured or killed. Despite this, I’m having a tough time figuring it out. I shall go back to the janitor’s closet and figure things out.

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CYOB #71: S’treafael

Posted by meekrat on October 14, 2009

cyob70You know what, Edwin? I’ve had enough with being on the receiving end of having stuff done to me. I think it’s time we turned the tables a bit, give them a taste of their own medicine.

“So we’re going to try and trap them?”

We sure are. After all, we know what they want-

“They want us dead.”

Exactly, and I doubt they know about your special talent.

“So you basically want me to sacrifice myself when they get here or something.”

I guess. We still have to figure out how to lure them here.

“You have no idea what you’re doing at this point, do you?”

Of course.

“Of course you don’t, but that’s all right, because I was usually the same way. What if we just yell that we surrender?”

Could work.

*CLICK*

Oh god oh god oh god!

“Keep running!”

Okay, so we set the trap. It seemed to be working, but they sent some sort of man in yellow after us and he brought with him eldritch horrors the likes of which you can’t imagine, nor would you want to, and right now we’re being chased by something that’s all beaks and tentacles and who knows what.

“Every time I stab it or slash it just makes a horrible sound, like it’s laughing or something! It’s mocking us!”

I thought you guys wanted us alive!

“My masters care not whether you are alive or dead! Behold, S’tareafel the Great and Powerful!”

That was the guy, oh god, a portal is opening up and… and… it looks like a green Zoidberg. From “Futurama.” Except he has tentacles instead of claws and legs, and giant black wings. Edwin?

“I’m on it!”

“Oh, don’t be afraid. I’m just glad to be free of that horrid abyss.”

The tentacle demon is talking to us.

“You can call me Steve.”

“Attack, S’treafael! Rend them limb from limb and violate their orifices like so many Japanese school girls!”

“No, I’ve never been into that. I don’t want to rape anymore. I just want to find love, settle down. You know.”

“I do not know! Attack!”

At this point, I don’t think is the same man in yellow that was in the mythos. Wasn’t that guy a king, anyway? I don’t know what’s up with this guy. He seems weird. Oh, S’treafael is approaching the other tentacle monstrosity.

“Listen, I know how Dad is, I know how he just wants me to come into this world and use my tentacles for… THAT, but I don’t want that anymore. I want to make friends.”

The other tentacled monstrosity made some sort of horrible noise. It’s like my ears were stabbed with dead rabid animals.

“I know, Uncle H’llrtyfnt. But this is my choice. So could you go back and tell dad?”

“No! Attack the interloper! Destroy Charleston Charge!”

Uh oh. Now both of the tentacle monsters are looking at me.

“You’re Charleston Charge?”

Yes… Steve. I am.

“Oh. We shouldn’t attack him anyway.”

“Yes you should!”

“Uncle?”

Oh lord. Oh good lord. Steve’s uncle is… doing unspeakable things to the man in yellow. Now he’s talking to Steve, and now he’s gone. Why didn’t you go, Steve?

“I want to stay here. Find myself. Find my purpose.”

Edwin is unshaken by all of this.

“I’ve seen far worse.”

“Can I travel with you?”

Do you know where the Apocalyptic Council is holed up?”

“I do. I can give you two a ride there, if you like. Anything to help Charleston Charge.”

All right, then. On the way there, we have to decide whether we want to do a full-on attack or sneak around and do espionage. What do you think, Edwin? Ah. Edwin just shrugged.

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CYOB #70: Whirlwind Tour of the Afterworld

Posted by meekrat on September 23, 2009

cyob69I think we should go backwards, MikeP.

“Okay. So, do we turn around and go backwards or walk backwards?”

I’m not sure. If we just turn around, then it might be like we’re going forward or something. I think we should walk backwards.

“You’re the boss.”

*CLICK*

We’ve walked backwards for a few minutes… the events of the tournament are becoming clearer and clearer to me and MikeP, and he’s getting a bit shaken up. Why is that, little guy?

“I think it’s because I’m technically dead or something. The last thing I remember before the tournament is getting zapped by a god-computer in a digital world, and before that I remember being in a different afterlife, and before that I was on my home-world but it blew up. Most of the things I’ve been involved with have been blown up… my home, my birthplace… I should probably try to make sure the Earth doesn’t get blown up.”

You’ve been to Earth?

“Yeah. I went there on a quest to save Milos, who was most definitely NOT a Jedi Knight. I fought John Stamos, who had combined with a giant mantis shrimp, and I died then, too. Dear lord, how many times have I died? I came back in Canada, though, and ended up saving the day with some friends who I haven’t seen for years.”

Well, if I don’t make it back to the land of the living, then the world is pretty much screwed. I’m not entirely sure why.

“Is it Cthulhu?”

Maybe? I know Mayans are involved.

“My friend Ethan mentioned something like that. Cthulhu and Quetzalcoatl are supposed to come back in 2012. I have a plan about that, though.”

What’s your plan?

“Tell each of them that the other one insulted them, and maybe their mothers, and that they’re each waiting on the moon. They’ll fight each other. On the moon. And leave the Earth alone.”

That’s a crazy plan, little green guy.

“That’s why it’ll work. This doesn’t look like limbo anymore.”

You’re right… limbo was all purple and rocky. This is more like a desert.

“Correct! This is the desert of- Mike P? Charleston Charge?”

“Xig?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m in the desert of Lost Souls because of what happened at the end of the tournament.”

Oh yeah. Now I remember. Where’s Solana?

“She didn’t get stuck here. Maybe you guys can help me? I really want to get out of here.”

“Just walk backwards with us.”

“Hm. It’s worth a try.”

*CLICK*

Xig, MikeP, and I have walked into another place where MikeP is very apprehensive.

“Of course I am! This is Purga’s domain, and I’m pretty much dead or something! If he notices us, we’re screwed!”

“Too late, Mike P!”

Ah. That would be the demon Purga.

“Let us pass, demon!”

Xig, don’t antagonize him!

“I was told by my minion that you were dead, Mike P. And I watched what happened to you, Xig. How did you come to be here?”

*CLICK*

Xig picked us up and flew backwards. Purga seemed quite upset, but there was nothing he could do about it. We briefly passed through an empty white realm, but now we’re in a pastoral setting.

“This is an afterlife.”

That was MikeP.

“If we keep walking backwards, well, I have no idea where we’ll end up. Maybe in the Digital Realm. Maybe back in the land of the living. I really have no idea, one way or the other.”

Let’s do it. We have nothing to lose. We’re continuing backwards and… we’re being engulfed in light!

*CLICK*

That was pretty darn terrible. MikeP was engulfed in light and vanished, as was Xig. I think I was, too, and now I’m back where I started. Not literally, of course. I’m not in my mother’s womb. I’ve just traveled through time and space to the moment Edwin and I saw the bi-plane. We’re getting into it and taking off and… we didn’t get too far, did we?

*CLICK*

I’m at the crash site. My old body is a charred mess. So is Edwin’s, but I thought he couldn’t… oh. Okay. That’s really gross, watching his organs, skin, and muscles reform over his body. I think I’m going to…

*CLICK*

I vomited. Several times. Edwin is sitting up, so I better go help him.

*CLICK*

I helped Edwin out of the wreckage. He’s recovered quite well, I think. You ready to keep moving, Edwin?

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why aren’t you dead?”

I went on a mystical journey instead.

“Ah. All right. So, now what? Do we continue following the Mayans?”

Maybe we should set a trap, sort of. Send out some sort of signal for the Apocalyptic Council to come get us, then let them capture us so we can go back to their headquarters and not get killed again.

“What if they kill you?”

They won’t, I think. They seem like the type to play with their victims first, anyway. So, what should we do? Follow the trail or try and get them to come here?

The next entry can be found here.

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CYOB #69: The Death and Subsequent Adventures of Charleston Charge

Posted by meekrat on September 2, 2009

cyob68

We’re taking that bi-plane.

“Neither of us knows how to fly it.”

It’s a bi-plane, it can’t be that hard.

“It’s a plane. Those aren’t easy to fly!”

I think we can manage it.

“Well, let’s find the owner of the plane and get this over with.”

…no. Let’s just take it.

“What?”

You heard me. We need that plane to save the world, and the last thing we need is some farmer telling us we can’t take it. Besides, we’ll bring it back. After all, it’s for saving the world work.

“So you want us to steal a plane?!”

You can stay here, but I’m taking that plane.

“No, no. I’m coming, too. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

It’s already been established that I don’t. Except I know how to do petty larceny! I was kind of sort of a detective for a while, after all. Man, this bi-plane is old. Well, get in!

“I still don’t feel right about this.”

We’ll be fine. Hey, look at that floating guy. I remember him. That pretentious jerk just floats there remaining uninvolved. I hate him. Okay, I’ve got the engine going… we’re off! Up in the air! The wind buffeting my face and… oh crud! There goes my hat.

“I caught your hat.”

Okay, thanks. I can’t read these gages. Are we going the right way?

“I think so.”

That chunka-chunka noise… I’m not liking that noise.

“There’s smoke trailing from behind the plane!”

*CLICK*

The plane exploded while we were in mid-flight… my super-durability saved me, and Edwin died for a little while but he’s fine now, but now we’re headed towards the ground at a serious rate and…

*CLICK*

Edwin and I met with Camilla again. As it turns out, she knew him! They’re old friends, or something. As it is, though, I used up my one life the first time I was going to fall. Now I’m in the Afterlife and now I have to figure out how to get out of here to fulfill my mission. I wish I had never taken that stupid bi-plane, and I hope Edwin is happy with himself. This is no way to treat someone who almost won that tournament thing, kind of!

As it is, I’m in the afterlife. There are no fluffy clouds and angels, and it’s not a demon-filled hellscape. I’m not sure where I am. It’s just… all here. Hold on a second, there are people ahead! Hey! Okay, they’re looking. I’m going up to them.

*CLICK*

All right, there’s Tobias Watermain. He’s a police inspector for Scotland Yard, and also a movie character.

“What ho, good fellow.”

There’s the Action Scientist, who is a scientist who likes action, I guess.

“Precisely.”

And there’s a little green guy.

“Hey. Since you’re dead, does this mean I’m dead, too?”

Maybe? In any case, I think if we work together, we can get out of this place.

“We’ve no interest in trying,” this is the Action Scientist, “We’re not from your world. What do we care if it dies?”

“Hold a moment, good chap,” this is Watermain, “We do have friends on that world. Still, I see your point. Not like they’ve risked their necks to save us.”‘

“Precisely.”

“Wait! I kind of want to get out of here,” says the little green guy. Mikep, I think?

Okay, Mikep. Let’s you and me start walking, then. Have you explored this place at all?

“No, I’m sort of newly between whatevers and stuff.”

You two?

“No,” says Watermain. Action Scientist shakes his head.

Well, Mikep. From where I’m standing, should we go straight, backwards, left, or right?

“I have no idea. Left?”

Hm. Do you  two pansies have any suggestions? No? Then I shall have to think about this…

Next: CYOB #70: Whirlwind Tour of the Afterworld

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CYOB #68: Fun and Games

Posted by meekrat on August 19, 2009

cyob67You know, I think the best bet would be to follow them back to their headquarters. Even if we get the snot beat out of us when we get there, we’ll at least know where it is.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Okay… the only thing is, we have to figure out a way to follow people who were moving at super-speed. The only people I know who can do that can’t go after them because this area is infused with some sort of ultimate evil which prohibits fundamentally good beings, save for me and you, from going in there, and you don’t know anybody here. Who knows when we’ll catch up with them? The trail might go… hey, where are you going?

“I’m walking after them. You can talk and walk at the same time, right?”

Yeah, of course. I think our best bet would be to hitch-hike or something. It’s weird, though. I thought the results of the tournament might have changed things a bit.

“Tournament?”

Yeah, me and a bunch of other people I know were transported to some weird battle-world.

“Yeah? How’d you do? Did you just have to fight?”

No. The first time I had to do a karoke contest against this woman who broke my friend’s heart.

“Yeah, women will do that. My first real girlfriend kind of tried to kill me, and then this other girl I knew… well, she’s gone.”

You’ll have to tell me about that sometime. The second thing I had to do was play some weird dice game against one of my… acquaintances. There were dice, and it was sort of like Yahtzee, but not exactly like Yahtzee. Then, after that, you got a certain amount of points to spend on this little character you would make. You’d then roll some more dice to see how you could move on this board, and the goal of it was to either get to the end of the board or defeat your opponent first. Ah, and there were monsters and stuff to deal with, too. Which is why you got the points, which reset, except for a basic amount of points.

“It sounds complicated, but kind of fun, I guess?”

Yeah. It was a pretty neat game.

“Did you win?”

I don’t remember. All I remember is that I was there until the end, helping to make sure that evil didn’t take over the universe. This guy named Thomas Iavi and I thought it might have something to do with the Apocalyptic Council.

“Did it?”

Not so much, really. One of my enemies did get pretty shaken up because he thought he was a good guy but was really a villain. Heh, his thing is making Anime cliches come to life. How silly is that?

“Not so much. There was an entire city like that where I used to live. It was pretty bizarre. One of my friends… never mind.”

What?

“Just… never mind.”

Okay, then. Hey, do you know how to fly a plane?

“No, why? Do you?”

No, but there’s some old biplane sitting in the middle of that field. Maybe we should ask to use it.

“But then we won’t be able to see the tracks.”

I have exceptionally good eyesight, as long as we don’t fly too high. Besides, we’ll be able to go faster.

“If you say so. I’m still not sure we should take the biplane, though.”

Next: CYOB #69: The Death and Subsequent Adventures of Charleston Charge

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CYOB #67: The Second Herald of the Apocalyptic Council

Posted by meekrat on July 29, 2009

cyob66Money talks, but action speak louder than words, and so I’m going to attempt to convince young Edwin to come with me through actions. I have no idea how exactly I’m going to do that, because I can’t very well chuck a car at him and expect that to work. After all, we’re not costumed heroes. We’ve gone to a truck stop diner, and he’s just sitting there with that giant sword of his and staring at me, watching me talk into this, and he looks like he’s been through all sorts of hell. For someone with such a large sword, though, he’s awfully… I don’t know. He has no visible scars. You would think that someone with a sword that big would get into a lot of fights. Maybe… oh hell. That was a window breaking. Oh holy hell.

*CLICK*

Some freaking demon or something just crashed through the window. It went after the kid, so I threw myself at the demon to give Edwin a chance to get the heck out of here. He picked up the sword like it was nothing and stabbed the demon through the wing, and it screeched an unholy shriek and vanished in a puff of brimstone. Anyway, I guess since I was willing to sacrifice myself for him, Edwin is pretty sure I’m an all right guy. He’s still being tight-lipped about where he’s from, but that’s fine. The important thing is that I’ve got an immortal with a giant sword to help me with my mission to take down the Apocalyptic Council, which, really, is a good thing to have.

*CLICK*

The kid wants to walk everywhere. Well, I keep calling him the kid, but I have no idea how old he actually is because he somehow doesn’t know. I guess when you’re immortal the years sort of drift by. He looks like he’s fresh out of high school, though, so I’ll keep calling him the kid. The giant sword should be an attention-grabber, but most people have the good sense to not be a smart-ass with the kid with a giant sword. Hm. It looks like something is coming this way at an alarming speed. It’s stopping… it’s an old Native American in a business-suit. He- OOF!

“You cannot stop what we are trying to achieve, Charleston Charge! The apocalypse is literally set in stone!”

That was the… oh god, this hurts… that was the Native American. I guess he has super-speed. Oh god. It feels like I’ve been shot in the stomach again.

“You’re trying to stop the Apocalypse?”

That was Edwin. Yes, Edwin, I am trying to stop the Apocalypse. I don’t think you can hear it but the old Indian guy, political correctness be damned, he’s ranting about how we can’t stop him.

“I’m not good at stopping Apocalypses!”

Well, now you’re just helping me stop one, so really, we should be good. FOR GOD’S SAKE! SHUT UP, CHIEF WAHOO!

“Uhn!”

I punched the old Indian in the face. Didn’t use all my strength, just knocked him to the ground. Hey, Edwin, are you one of those murderous sword-bearers?

“No. I try not to kill sentient beings.”

That’s a good trait. I just kicked the Indian guy in the side. He’s old. I don’t want to hurt him too much, a decision I may live to regret, considering how he’s probably part of the Apocalyptic Council and I have to stop them.

“You cannot stop us! We are hundreds strong, each more powerful than the last! I am just the tip of the iceberg!”

What about the Gray Man? Oh, wait, the Animajor flew off with him, right? And now you can’t find him? Yeah, that was all me, you stupid old man. I can totally stop all of you.

“You can only delay us as individuals, Charge! United, nothing can! Now remove your knee from my chest!”

No. I’m not doing anything you say. I have no idea what we should do with you.

“No matter what we do to him they’ll keep coming after us, probably. That’s how the evil masterminds do it. They wear you down and make you come to them, then… you know.”

Yeah, but this is only the second guy they’ve sent after me, and- did you feel that?

“You mean the sudden hurricane-force wind? Well, yeah. Oh no.”

Edwin’s oh no was in reference to the fact that we are surrounded by what appear to be fully-armed ancient Mayans. I am guessing they all have super-speed, which would make this old man Mayan, not Native American. They’re saying something in a language I don’t know.

“They’re saying to give them back their king and they won’t kill us yet.”

You understand them?

“I have a knack for languages.”

How do we know they’re telling the truth? Wait, wait, if they wanted to kill us, they could have done so a hundred times already. I think we should relinquish the old guy.

“Yeah.”

“Be intelligent about this, Charge! You can’t possibly beat the Apocalyptic Council! Go home, make your peace, and wait for the time when Quetzalcoatl ravages the world!”

Now they’re gone, leaving a tremendous cloud of dust. I tell you one thing, we sure as hell aren’t going home.

“I don’t have a home, anyway.”

Neither do I, really. Just people I know.

“I don’t even have that. You’re the only guy I know, Charleston.”

Huh. Well, what should we do? Should we try and bolster our numbers, or just go after them?

“Why are you asking me?”

I’m not, really. Just thinking aloud.

Next: CYOB #68: Fun and Games

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CYOB #66: Edwin Cloudstar

Posted by meekrat on July 1, 2009

cyob65What a month and a half it’s been. Other than some weird karaoke thing with Liana Koleyna, I have been… well, not very busy at all. I kept thinking of who I should go after. The False Prophet is bad news, but he’s small change compared to the Animajor who can, you know, warp reality with a mere thought. However, the thing about him is that I doubt he’d be very proactive in any case, so I can just ignore him while going after some big names. Like, say, a league of super-villains. Then again, while they can do some damage, certainly, it’s not like they’re trying to make sure the apocalypse happens. Therefore, the only real option is to go after the Apocalyptic Council. This seems like sort of a suicide mission, yes, especially since I’m all by myself since no one else is able to help me out with all of this. People like super-heroes and whatnot can’t dwell in the southeast, but I guess I’m different somehow. So, really, it’s me against nearly impossible odds! I would say I like those odds, but really, those are terrible odds and I’m probably going to end up dying.

Anyway, I’ve spent the past month and a half trying to figure out things about the Apocalyptic Council and maybe gather me up some allies. No allies have been forthcoming, really, and I guess there’s also some bizarre tournament of champions going on as well, except the universal embodiments of good, evil, and neutrality have gone missing somehow. I think the Apocalyptic Council might be behind it. If this is the case, then I really stand no chance. Really, all of this is quite hopeless, but if I work my way up then there might not be enough time to save the world anyway. And it’s not like some guy is going to fall from the sky to help me out with all of this…

Wait, some guy is falling out of the sky. This could either be good or bad.

*CLICK*

It’s sort of nothing. The kid is dead. He has the biggest sword I’ve ever seen strapped to his back, though I can’t seem to lift it. It can’t be heavier than a car. I can flip cars, after all. I’m very proud of that fact. I guess the only thing I can really do is bury the kid, though why I’m wasting my time by talking about all this stuff which has nothing to do with the task at hand befuddles me.

*CLICK*

Okay, so the kid wasn’t dead. Well, he was, but then he wasn’t, and it’s all very confusing. He says his name is Edwin Cloudstar, and that he doesn’t want to talk about his past at all. He won’t even tell me where he was before he got shunted onto this world. I’m going to corral him into helping me with my quest. Hopefully an extra-dimensional being will be able to enter the southeast without much trouble.

*CLICK*

The kid’s impossible. I need to find a way to bring him with me, I know that much. Something in my bones tells me this is so. I suppose I could threaten him, or bribe him, or try to convince him that coming with me is one neat idea. I shall have to think on this.

META: Make that fifteen votes. That seems easier to achieve.

Onward to CYOB #67: The Second Herald of the Apocalyptic Council

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CYOB #65: Southeast America

Posted by meekrat on May 6, 2009

results064It’s been over a month since I last talked into this thing, because things have continually been trying to kill me since I got off the train. I decided to go right, as I thought there was a better chance of me finding assistance away from restaurants and hotel. People in Ohio are supposed to be nice, I thought, but I was quite wrong. As I made my way down the road I came to a crossroads. Going straight would lead me towards a heavily-wooded area. While I can survive in the woods, the last time I was there I was attacked by a madwoman who had flying ravenous fish at her command. Going left would have taken me past several stores, and going right would have taken me past different stores. My choice was made for me when a bus stopped next to me and a man inside it pulled me in. Other than me, the driver, and the mysterious grabber, no one was riding it.

“You’re in grave danger, Charleston Charge,” said the grabber, looking over my shoulder.

I looked behind me, saw no one, and said, “I’m always in grave danger. I’m Charleston Charge.”

“Now is no time to be flippant! Have you forgotten that you have people after you?”

“Like I said, I’m Charleston Charge. I always have people after me.”

“Stop being flippant! The False Prophet. The Animajor. The Apocalyptic Council. There’s even a league of super-villains who have banded together to make the life of you and your friends a living hell. And what are you doing? You’re wandering around Parma like a tourist, dressed like a hobo. Any moment any of those people could come after you and you’re pretty much defenseless against all of them. You’ve only gotten this far because you have friends who can actually do things.”

“I can do things too. I can flip cars at people and stuff.”

“Yeah? I think all of those people I mentioned can lift buses. Buses, Charleston! Buses!”

“You have a point. I need to go southeast to find out about this sorcerer guy who won’t let Brachiosaur go down there.”

“Where are you from, Charleston?”

“The Lost City of Uhld.”

“I mean, where did you live before you started jaunting around the country?”

“South Carolina.”

“Well, did you ever think there was a reason that the southeast is nearly completely devoid of super-heroes and the Paci Custodis? And now this Brachiosaur thinks some sorcerer is down there that won’t let him go down there? You’re supposed to be a decently smart guy. Put two and two together.”

“Are you saying that all of that is connected?”

“Yes. It’s my theory that you and weird crap are sort of attracted to each other. It’s why you were an ideal agent of TYRIS and the reason things keep happening to you and around you. And the weirdest place in America is in the southeast. So you’re drawn there, since it can’t very well be drawn to you.”

“How does that explain the lack of super-heroes and Paci Custodis?”

“It works both ways. It draws you in, but pushes other people out. Land Captain and Edolie are proof of this: they started out in South Carolina, but both were pushed away. It’s like magnets. Most Paci Custodis and super-humans have the same polarity as the southeast. You, however, have a different polarity.”

“Wait, so you’re saying that no matter what I do, I’m going to be drawn to the southeast and that I’m never going to be able to make long-lasting friends with super-humans?”

“No, you can still make friends with them. You just have to get used to being apart from them.”

“What about Edolie? She lost her powers!”

“She still has them, but they’re only at a fraction of their former selves.”

“That’s terrible. That’s just terrible. Is there anything I can do to solve it?”

“I am very glad you asked that, Charge. Brachiosaur was actually somewhat correct. As a special being, and being an especially large being, he’s pushed away from the southeast. Namely, one being in the southeast who entrenched himself there centuries ago and has been slowly expanding his influence. It’s my theory that he’s about to make a power-grab for the rest of the east coast, and then he’ll use the power rush to expand ever westward.”

“If he does that, then the east will be filled with evil super-humans and stuff!”

“Exactly. And, eventually, the world. Imagine a world where good is slowly being pushed out, Charge. Is that something you want?”

“Oh hell no!”

“Good that you think that. Over the next month we’re taking you somewhere and we’re going to train the heck out of you and give you the proper gear.”

“Can I keep my basic look? And my tape recorder?”

“Sure thing.”

At that point, they took me somewhere I can’t say and gave me gear which I won’t catalogue because I’m not Tom Clancy, and gave me new clothes and a special backpack which fits under my coat and can hold a lot of stuff. I think it’s bigger on the inside. They dropped me off in Georgia, and said that if they went any further, they’d be detected. However, I can try to contact them for back-up when I need to. Also, I’m really well-trained now. I can take a car and chuck it twenty yards! I am so going to use that on someone. So they gave me a list of targets to go after and neutralize, which will eventually get me to the guy who’s keeping Brachiosaur out of the southeast. So now I just have to figure out whom to go after first…

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