Sparring Field, Citadel Hub
Jim knew what he could do and how important it was. After seeing what Don did to an unpowered robber, and what people thought of it, he knew what his training prepared him for. In the aftermath, the backlash prompted Coach Achala to bring them all together to learn slightly more appropriate methods for defeating enemies, methods which didn’t rely on the presence of a Healer. It was for the best.
Jim thought this a lot as Coach Achala had the students demonstrate holds. Jim had his face shoved into the floor and his arm jammed back behind him. “Isn’t this awesome?” Jenny asked. He grunted in pain and disagreement, but getting a ground-eye view of Duncan being triangle choked by Kerry almost made up for it. Almost.
He especially didn’t need to be learning how to wrestle with Jenny. He thought it was pretty awesome earlier, when she jumped up with her legs on his shoulders and wrapped them around his back. Somehow, Jenny was one of the few people who could pull off a hurricanrana without the cooperation of her opponent. Some of Hector’s clones stood off to the side, acting as an audience. One even held a “Jenny 3:16” sign. Then he landed and it became a lot less awesome.
He wished Coach put him against Hector, but it looked like the duplicator was almost as good as Jenny. He’d wrapped himself around Samantha like some sort of pretzel. One of Hector’s clones, doing commentary in a cowboy hat, referred to it as the “Moss-Covered Three-Handled Family Gredunza”.
At least Jim could take comfort in the image of Duncan turning a shade of blue before tapping out. “Say it!” Kerry yelled.
“N-no!” Duncan gasped out.
“Say it!” Kerry repeated.
“I’m…I’m…I can’t breath.”
Kerry changed position, still holding Duncan’s outstretched arm. She slid into an armbar, wrenching the boy’s arm into a position nature never intended it to be in. “Cadet Dragon, if you aren’t going to choke him out or break his bones, then that’s enough!” Coach Achala stepped over and glared down at her.
Kerry let Duncan go free, but only reluctantly and only after much consideration.
“Alright, class,” Coach Achala said, looking around impassively at the mass of tangled, wrestling youthful bodies around him. “Who wants to volunteer to show that they’ve mastered the Hickory Nut Crunch?”
Jim’s eyes widened. Please, no, not for all that is holy in the world.
Jenny released him as she threw her arm in the air and waved it like she just didn’t care. Why should she? The Nut Crunch worked a lot better on men than women anyway.
Instruction Area, Citadel Hub
“Who can tell me what we know about Monster?” asked Operative Richards. He looked far more enthusiastic about the special lecture than he had any right to be. Jim may have been biased. Once the healer reverted his testes to their default, external state, he had been told to walk off the pain.
This is stupid, Jim thought, holding an icepack to between his legs. What does it matter? Nothing could stop the murder hobo.
Jenny raised her had first, smiling and energetic as always. Operative Richards called on her, “Yes, Jenny?”
“Nobody knows his exact origins. They only have theories.”
Operative Richards nodded. “Yes, but so far they appear to be incorrect. And for good reason: we suspect that anyone who gets close to the truth would receive a visit from Monster himself. So why do we speculate, anybody? Yes, Jenny.”
Jenny radiated a smile that would have been arrogant on anyone else. On her, it drew the amorous attentions of her classmates, male and female alike. Kerry shifted in her seat, suddenly wanting to kidnap Jenny and find a pile of gold somewhere to settle down. “Because if you know what he isn’t, then you’re closer to finding out what he is.”
Operative Richards nodded. “Correct. It’s not a fast process, but it’s quicker than constantly replacing profilers. We may never know the truth about that horrid abomination of a man. Now then, I believe I gave you all a homework assignment about the best ways to make tactical use of babies in combat. I hope you all remembered to devote equal time in your papers to the subjects of melee, ranged combat, and artillery.” He looked around the room, eliciting a few groans from forgetful cadets. “Hey! If you’re going to groan, I could always make this a pop quiz. I’ve got a room full of babies just waiting to be used. That sounds wrong. I mean that I’ve got my hands on some kids and I know how to use them. That’s worse. Listen, class, turn in your work and get out of here. Let’s just ignore everything about the babies I have locked up in my crib.”
“You call your house your crib?” Jim asked, then immediately regretted asking.
Operative Richards gave him a long glare. Finally, he told them, “No. Stay after in class.”
A funny thing happened as they left the lecture. Don tripped and stumbled against Isaac. The older man glared down at Don. For his part, Don met the intimidating gaze. Other students stopped, backing Don up. Isaac looked around at all of them, and for half a second it almost looked like a smirk crossed over his face.
“Are you really going to do something because I barely bumped you?” Don asked, standing up straighter as supporters patted him on the shoulders.
Isaac brought his face to Don’s so fast, those same supporters backed off in a hurry. Don looked like he was about to fall down, but he stood his ground. Growling quietly, but still loud enough to be heard, Isaac told him. “Yeah. Now you’re gonna be my hat.”
Don blinked. “What?”
Isaac picked Don up by the back of his shirt and lifted him up. His other hand on Don’s chest, Isaac brought him overhead, then settled him down on his scalp. Dauntless’s forcefield flared, holding Don up. Don tried to climb down, but Isaac grabbed him by the head. “Don’t even think about it.” Don clung to Isaac’s head as best he could, experimentally setting a foot on one shoulder and a hand on the other.
Isaac turned to the rest of the class who stared. “What you gonna do about it? I’ll tell you what. Deal with it,” he said, and turned to leave. Then he stopped and pointed up at his new headwear. “He had a ball. Now he’s my ball. You want to challenge me, you gotta touch my ball.”
Then, with a tip of his hat, he swaggered out.
Operative Richards stepped up beside Jim, handed him a can of Crisco with a showercap on top, and draped his arm around Jim’s shoulder. “You’re going to need to put that on for your extra credit assignment. Now, I’m very interested in what you have down here about insertion, then rotation sixty-three degrees on a random axis.” Richards held up Jim’s paper. “Sounds sporty.”
Private Residence, Citadel Hub
The day wasn’t over for Jim just yet. No sooner had he gotten back to his room, got his aching orbs set on his personalized ball pillow, and sat on his special butt cushion than Kelly poked her head in. Her very pretty head that made his balls ache even more. Jim groaned. “What do you want?”
She held up a lanyard and a piece of paper with something printed on it, smiling wide. He needed to remind her to go easy on the big mouth and pretty lips. But not yet. Sometime when they weren’t interacting on a daily basis.
“The con. You know, ParaCon?” she reminded him, interpreting his staring as a different sort of confusion. “Parahumans, science fiction, fantasy, comics, video games? Any of this ring a bell?”
Ring that bell, cuz, you fine ass mother- “Fu-uuuh, yeah. Yeah! God, I’m sorry I forgot.” He pointed down to his wounded crotch. “Brain damage.”
Kelly winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I can see how you could wind up with more pressing issues. And all that walking won’t be fun for you. Well, you should at least see our cosplay.” With that, she stepped in, giving Jim a fine view of Kelly dressed in some sort of Naval uniform.
“You’re a Village Person?” he asked.
Kelly took off a tiara she wore and threw it at his head like a frisbee. She miscalculated and it instead arced downward and into his tender testicles. “Oh shit! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Is there something I can get you?”
“Kiss it and make it feel better?” he suggested with a pained laugh.
“Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, in the name of the moon, I will punish you,” Kelly said with a grin.
Unfortunately, that meant dragging him outside to to see the others’ cosplay. At least he recognized Hector.
“Terminator, right? Hasta la vista, baby!” He suggested, shooting Hector with finger guns. Hector raised an eyebrow over the eye that showed. He wore a cybernetic-looking monocle over the other that matched his grey jumpsuit and the mixture of pipes that covered one of his forearms.
A second Hector stepped away from behind the first one, then a third. They spoke in unison. “We are the Hector. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.”
“Right…” he said, turning to look at the other two going. “Hey, Jenny. Harley Quinn.”
“You’re welcome!” She practically bounced in her tight black and red spandex, her hair in a jester’s cap. “Oh, and sorry about the little fellas, Mistah J. If you want, I can take your mind off the pain.” She pulled a giant mallet from…somewhere. Jim suspected copious amounts of lube and practice were involved.
The last member of their group pulled Jenny away before she could beat Jim off. The girl wore a bright pink dress with a yellow and teal flower on the front. She had on a blonde wig that stuck up and curved inward like a pair of horns. She also appeared to be… “Jason?”
Not looking even a little embarrassed, Jason said, “Today, it’s Mandy. If you like, Kelly suggested we dress you up as Billy and bring you with us. I thought Grim more appropriate, but Jenny felt Mandy suited my demeanor better. I was going to object, but then she took her top off. I don’t know why, but it made a persuasive argument.”
Jim chuckled as he watched Jenny hit Jason on the shoulder. Looking between Jenny’s Harley Quinn and Kelly’s Sailor Moon, he couldn’ t help but think how awesome if they could get him a little tender loving care for his boys down below.
With a mischevious grin on her face, Jenny whispered something to Kelly. Then Kelly announced, “Hey Hector, didn’t you take that course on proctology? I think Jim needs a little tender loving care down there.”
Across The Continent, Baby Seal Club
The club was bouncing. People escaped from the bugs, the supers, the warring zones, and all the rest of their problems into an atmosphere of blaring music, questionable medications, and multi-colored lights.
All except for the man called Wallace Robinson. He’d had a bad night. He received a letter from the IRS about a tax levy. His wife was sleeping with another man. He caught his son in bed with the same man. He found out his boyfriend was sleeping with his wife and his son. His life was collapsing around him. On top of all this, he’d left the acid at home. Without the mood-altering substances, the music that moved so many other people just gave him a headache.
He walked right up to the DJ window and knocked on it. The pane slid to the side to reveal the special guests for the night. A pair of men in shiny helmets that called themselves Daffy Spunk or some shit like that. Wallace didn’t know. His daughter told him, but she didn’t know he’d toked up on the stash she hid in her tampon drawer.
The buzz long gone, Wallace gave the Daffy Spunk punks the finger. “Hey, you losers play something better! This music is made of suck and ass!”
The punks looked at each other, then stood up. As one, they raised their arms in the direction opposite the other. Then they bowed their legs, and took three steps toward the other, and swung their arms overhead to point at each other. Then, for some reason, they swung their arms away while raising their outer knees toward the other side of their bodies. It would have looked familiar if Wallace watched any anime series about alien-human hybrids fighting.
I asked for music, Wallace thought, not a dance.
Then they pointed their fingers at each other. A brilliant flash of light blinded Wallace and half the club. When it faded, there stood a fusion of the punks. The merged being still wore the helmet and black leather, but now he recognized them.
Messing with these punks in the first place was daft, Wallace had time to think before Monster split his head open with a vinyl record.
Afterward, the club danced to a special remix of “Shake Your Booty”.
“Shank shank shank, shank shank shank, shank a hobo. Shank a hobo!”
The crazy, zany, and completely NOT CANON! interlude you’ve just read is part of the Serial Fiction April Fool’s Day Swap, 2015 Edition. The mindblowing gag post you’ve just read was written by Psycho Gecko, who normally writes the story World Domination In Retrospect, found at https://villainousintent.wordpress.com .
Unillustrated, who normally writes this story, today has created their own piece of tomfoolery for Tapestry found at http://www.wysteriaclimbing.com/tapestry .
For a full list of all our April Fool’s Swappers and their stories, as well as dozens of other serial novels that will tickle your fancy, check out The Web Fiction Guide at
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