The Metroid Construction Community Fanfic: Ragekit [NSFW]

[Zhs2]

Holy shit, it has a sequel! Visit here!

Well, here it is, folks. The grand moment you've all been waiting for, I'm sure. :grin: I'm not going to say much more, so without further ado...!

[spoiler=OMG WANNA READ ET]Ragekit

A Community Fanfic by Zhs2
Beta Readers: Bloodsonic a.k.a. Multeblink Master II, and Naniyue a.k.a. Doom Heretic

----
Disclaimer: This story is copyright 2009 Zhs2. This story is pure fiction, but I do not reserve any right to any or all characters or likenesses for they do happen to exist in the real world at this time. Do not use my story or parts of it for your own; I ask that you use your own imagination instead and see what happens. Do not post or change my story and subsequently repost without my permission, because then I'll hunt you down and bother you. Don't ask for permission, either, because you most likely won't receive it (see two sentences before.)

Foreword: Ever wonder about the side-effects of Doom's Berserk Pack? I don't, and for good reason. All of those steroids and massive adrenaline rushes can't possibly be good for your hormonal systems, can they?

The following characters of the Metconst community that are present in the story itself are listed here, in alphabetical order. Thanks for being such a great community, guys!

- Aile (In a community full of men, he's the only one brave enough to be the woman :) )
- Antidote (TAKE YOUR GOTOS AND "GOTO" HELL)
- Black Falcon (Insert text here)
- Bloodsonic (The [tablet] pen is mightier than the sword?)
- DChronos (HE'S A SPY | WHY ELSE WOULD HIS INITIALS STAND FOR "DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA")
- DMantra (The mastermind behind the Tree of Grime.)
- Flamestar666 (St00pid? He's smarter than he looks.)
- FullOfFail (FullOfSex)
- GF_Kennon (I know you rage train, but not quite like this. But it was perfect :) )
- Grime (No, I didn't make you fighting with your penis. Come on.)
- hayashi (Hakkumetoroido Food Museum. 'Nuff said.)
- HelloBot (Hello, #metconst ! ^.^)
- interdpth (The code he writes when he's high is structured better than his sober code.)
- jason (Hey, come on. I needed victims. :( )
- Jathys (Attention: Poop.)
- NuZalem (Master of Dimensions, Leader of the Council of XIII, Interstellar Pimp... Should I say anymore?)
- Parabox (It's more of a "take pity on me for some reason, any reason" kind of thing.)
- person701 (How many of those excellent avatars do ya got?)
- Phazar (He's been gone way too long. Anyone know how he died?)
- PZ-Powa (Misursantandinger!)
- squishy_ichigo (The strawberry that can't spell! Yay!)
- Sadiztyk Fish (Bloop.)
- Sepharos (Hahaha, a journalist personality was just what I needed in here. I love ya, man.)
- Silver_Skree (The invincible titanium alloy Skree!) (Requested he be opted out. Pancakes, man :( )
- uNsane (PENIS LOLOLOL)
- Wingard (Okay guy, even if you did threaten hax. God bless ya.)

----

He didn't know when he'd snapped; all he knew was that it had happened. He could only think to ask himself why...

Galactic Federation Commander James Phillip Kennon was the proud leader of the Republic of Metroid Construction, and while he certainly wasn't the smartest of leaders, he was most certainly a diplomatic one. He ruled fairly and justly, and put his needs aside (well, some of the time) for the sake of greater hacking knowledge to mankind. He knew he shouldn't have gone into his secret stash today. He knew he shouldn't have removed one of the shiny black boxes with the red cross emblazoned upon the top flap. He knew that he especially shouldn't have removed the UAC Easy-Auto Medicine Injector 9000 and placed it upon the special slot in his suit in his forearm, much less pressed the signature Big Red Button on the side of the contraption. He was having a bad day, he reasoned. Nothing like a quick hit of steroids to pick you up. Sure, nothing bad will happen.

Of course, hindsight is always 20/20...

----

Two civilians sat in the center of the courtyard, a heated battle of wits occurring on the table between them. The first was slightly strawberry-shaped; that is to say, he was clothed in a suit that made him look red, ripe, juicy, and, above all things, fat at the top and skinny narrowing down. Upon his suit was a small badge that simply read 'Small Mods,' and it made him look vaguely more important. The other was of the female persuasion, and her eyes were centered upon either side of her head, of all things. There also happened to be a rather sharp, unidentifiable, half-of-a-blade sticking from the woman's head; of course, everyone paid it as much mind as they did the rest of the World of Internets.
"Check!" the woman shouted. "I've got you now!"
"Oooh!" the man countered. "I'll knock that knight out with a rook! Snazzy pants!"
The woman moved her queen, knocking the newly placed castle off of the board. "Checkmate!" she cried triumphantly.
"Awwww!" the man cried. "I was so close! Damn you, Sadiztyk!"
"hey    guys can I    have some    hack pics   plox" a rather plain-looking man said, standing right next to the table. The seated couple plainly ignored him, and instead continued discussing their recent game's results.

At least, they would have if a sudden explosion didn't rock the table over and throw them onto the ground.
"Oh my god, what was that?!?" The woman named Sadiztyk cried. "SQUISHY, LOOK OUT!!"
In one fluid moment, Sadiztyk lunged towards the prone body of Squishy, rolling him halfway across the courtyard before the second explosion hit. "Whew, that was a toughie--" she said, just as she heard a whirring noise and what felt like twenty tons of lead ripping into her backside. Her body simply collapsed upon Squishy's.

The cold, lifeless helmet gleamed in the afternoon sunlight as the murderer surveyed his recent bounty. A pair of boots stood where jason once was, his viscera splattered about the courtyard next to where the table had been. Silently he put down his Standard Assault Rifle and studied the rest of the courtyard, laying eyes on the bullet-ridden back of the corpse of Sadiztyk Fish, who was laying upon the mangled Squishy Ichigo. With a sort of "WHOOMP" noise, he regenerated his grenade supply and clicked back a new load of bullets into his SAR, stepping forward over the small bout of carnage and into the deeper recesses of the courtyard. If it could be said that he was thinking coherently, it could also be said that the most coherent thought running through his head at the moment went something along the lines of "The fun was just about to begin..."

----

"No, I fail it," said a voice.
"No, I fail it harder," said a second.
"No, I'm just st00pid," said the third, effectively pronouncing a word with two zeros.
The three men were sitting around a fire, which was constructed of a few salvaged logs and a lit match. They didn't care much as the fire burned as if there was close to nothing left to burn; they simply kept it for the warmth it provided.
"You know, everyone says I fail at everything," said the one by the name of Parabox. "If only I stopped complaining long enough to get something done..."
"Everyone says I DON'T fail, but my name doesn't lie, does it?" said the one who called himself FullOfFail. "I'm pretty sure setting up a bonfire in broad daylight has to count for something, right?"
"I don't know, but I'm just st00pid," said Flamestar666, who was picking himself up off of the ground at the moment and preparing to walk away. "I'm off to work now. See you guys later!"
"Bye, Flamestar666," the two called after him, waving to him as he walked about the corner of the building, and then silently turned back to the fire.
The pair stared at it for approximately one minute, upon which Parabox took it upon himself to break the silence. "You know, I really think I could do something if I just stopped being dumb about it and just tried."
"I don't," FullOfFail said simply, failing to notice the sound of gunfire not far from where they were sitting.
Both of them continued to sit there without talking, just admiring the faint yellow glow of the firelight just in front of them. Parabox was the first to notice the off-green object that had landed in the middle.
"Hey, is that a--"
An explosion cut him off shortly after.

----

A giant white drawing screen sat empty in front of Bloodsonic, just waiting for something to be scribbled on it. Thoughtfully he selected his pen nibs, and set off to drawing. Carefully he took his strokes, making curves and lines congeal to create a sketch of a head. He added details here and there, making it an entry worthy of art history books, the greatest thing he'd ever drawn--
"I have no fucking artist blowed of shit with pen in hand," said a voice behind him.
Despite himself, Bloodsonic couldn't help but laugh. "Man, shut up, zozo. I'm trying to draw," he said, turning back to his drawing.
Over in the far corner, Aile woke up and talked. "Oh my god!" She exclaimed. "I just found the coolest secret ever in Scribblenauts!"
"That's cool, Aile," Bloodsonic said. "Now let me get back to my drawing here--"
"PENIS LOLOLOL," exclaimed yet another.
Bloodsonic just rolled his eyes as the newcomer walked in. "Hi uNsane."
"Hi," replied uNsane.
"So, what's up with those wom-man boobs today?" Hayashi said, looking up from his Amiga.
"Kinky," replied uNsane.
Bloodsonic, at this point, was getting pretty fed up. "Goddammit guys, I'm trying to get something done--"

At this point, DChronos pulled a bag of popcorn from his pocket and began to shove a few kernels into his mouth. He was sitting on a nearby rooftop, which happened to be low enough for a good view and point of earshot for this particular section of Metconst Main but high enough so that people didn't see him and get insulted at him watching them as if they were a show production. Quietly he took his watch from his pocket, checking the time. Math would be over in JZD Citadel in about an hour, he mused. He continued to eat the buttery popcorn from his sack, watching ever closely--
He felt a tap on the back of his head. DChronos spun around and stood up, exclaiming, "Hey, what's the big ide--"

"Hey, guys, check out my new wallpapers," uNsane said, grabbing the control for the white screen and bringing up his URL.
"uNsane, goddammit," Bloodsonic fumed. "God so help me I will go batshit on your ass if you don't give me that shit back right now--"
They all heard a WHUMP noise over by the side building, and they all looked to see DChronos' crumpled body laying on the sidewalk. They all rushed over, shocked at the sudden appearance of the dead body.
"Um, what the fuck?" Zozo said first, ending the dirge of silence. All of them looked up from where it fell from, all the way up to the dark figure standing on the very top.
"Who is that?" Hayashi said.
"It's a bird!" Aile gasped.
"It's urmom!" uNsane exclaimed.
"James, what the fuck?" Bloodsonic queried, obviously still angry.

The form of James Kennon leapt off of the building, landing on Zozo and killing him instantly. He was fully armoured with his Mobile Battle Suit, his SAR and grenades at the ready, his missiles and nukes in reserve. The group backed away slowly as he moved towards them menacingly.
"Umm, James. No, seriously. What the fuck, man. What's going on?" Bloodsonic said, still backing away.
"N0mits no?" Hayashi quested, moving with the rest of the group.
At this, James drew out his energy armblades and impaled Hayashi upon them. "Ow," Hayashi simply said, dying instantly. Aile screamed a bloodcurdling scream.
"Hayashi got Hayashi'd!" uNsane cried gleefully, upon which James cut him down as well, his 'Small Mods' badge clattering across the pavement as he died.
"Unh-unh. I ain't standing for this bullshit," Bloodsonic said, drawing out his gigantic tablet pen. "James, I thought you were better than this."
James only stood silently, holding his blades at the ready. They stared each other down for an eternity, their weapons poised for attack.
"We used to co-op, James. We used to fight together, fight the forces of hell!" Bloodsonic cried. "And this is how you turn out? You're just like the demons!"
James finally leapt, his swords clashing with Bloodsonic's mighty pen. Aile watched from the shadows as they fought, crying silently at the bitter battle in front of him. Back and forth Bloodsonic and James dashed, their blades colliding frequently enough to cause sparks. At the climax of the fight, James took a shot at Bloodsonic's chest while he was up against a wall; he reacted quickly, and his pen was now blocking both blades at once. They were at a standstill, James trying to push his blades into Bloodsonic, and Bloodsonic pushing back. Suddenly, Bloodsonic got a footing, pushed James back, and then stabbed the pen into James' chest. The blades deactivated, and James, whose energy source was rapidly draining from the core leakage, staggered a ways back, and then collapsed.
Bloodsonic stood there, amazed at his apparent victory. And then he looked down to see the grenade at his feet. "Oh, fu--"

James woke up a few short moments later, staring out of his helmet through a red haze at the scorch mark on the wall and the medium-sized badge Bloodsonic had been carrying laying on the ground. He had won. He had defeated the enemy, and he had lived to kill some more. Of course, the inactive suit would be a pain... Quickly, he activated the reserve energy cores to his Battle Suit. They'd last him a good while longer, but he'd only be running what needed to be ran. No ammo regeneration, and little armour shielding; what he had, he had. He wasn't thinking too clearly, either, so it mattered little.

Aile watched in horror as James got up again, looking back and forth from the scorched spot on the wall to the slowly rising Battle Suit. James stood tall, lengthening himself to his full height. Aile continued to watch as James stared at the building in front of him, raising his arm toward Aile's position. Aile noticed the Assault Rifle said arm was holding a little too late. And then, Aile saw no more...

----

Sepharos was having a particularly bad day. He'd only just walked into Metconst Main, with a couple of interviews with the head mucky-mucks of the Republic itself on the agenda for today, and already he'd found everyone in the central plaza in a state of unrest. A few people had run by, who he'd shouted at for answers ("Excuse me, hello? Can anyone tell me what's going on here?") most of which had included a falcon (which was admittedly black in colour,) a barrel-rolling rabbit, and some old geezer who stopped for only a second. The conversation he had was inscribed as such in his notepad:

<Sepharos> Hey, sir! Can you tell me what's going on here? Why is everyone running for an exit?
<Elderly Man> It's me! The Jathys man!
<Sepharos> ... Sir? My question? Can you tell me anything at all?
<Elderly Man> Attention: Poop.

And with that, he'd run off too. So much for a lead, Sepharos thought. Even so, he reasoned, a story was a story, no matter how hard it was to find your way to the root.
This is how Sepharos found his feet plodding north, heading right into the midst of disaster and peril. He walked right by several scorch marks, many different corpses, and even a stationary being that happened to tell him hello ("Hello, Sepharos ! ^.^",) but nothing was going to stop him from getting a story penned today. Absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, an arm reached out and pulled Sepharos into a nearby alleyway.
"Hey, what are you doing--"
"Shh!" the skinny man whispered, obviously nervous about something or other. "He's going to kill us all!"
"Who? What? What are you talking abou--"
"Keep it down!" the man warned. Sepharos looked him over for a second, poring over his fear-stricken pale face and his casual t-shirt and jeans affair. "If you keep quiet, we both might have a chance to make it out of this!"
"Okay, okay!" Sepharos said, trying to talk at the same level. "I'll be a bit quieter if I can get some answers first! What do you think of that?"
"I suppose," the man said wistfully.
"Well then! That's settled," Sepharos continued, pulling out his notebook. "First off, what's your name?"
The man kicked a pebble in the alleyway as he contemplated his answer. "They call me Antidote, but I'm not really anywhere near being one. I'm more like a poison, to be honest."
"Okay, that's fair enough. Now, what in the name of the internets is going on here?" Sepharos scribbled down, anxious to hear the answer.
"Well..."

They were both interrupted by a loud bang across the way. Sepharos poked his head out to see what was going on. It seemed, from his vantage point, that a rogue suit of armour had crashed into the side of a building just about 20 yards away. It was standing back up and ready to continue fighting something. Sepharos put his head further about the corner to see a man floating not too far away from the other combatant (the thing in the armor was another person, Sepharos mused. No robot ever moved like it was disoriented from a collision.) He appeared to be of great power, and he clearly was not playing around. "Yare yare daze," he said.
"Bajeebus, what a scoop!" Sepharos said, jotting down notes. "I can see the headlines now! 'Rogue Battle-Suited Mystery Man Attacks Metroid Construction!'"
Antidote perked up behind him. "Uhh, that's James you're looking at--"
"WHAT?!?" Sepharos exclaimed, yelling louder than was necessary. "But that's--"
"Shuh!" Antidote put a hand around Sepharos' mouth, effectively silencing him once again. "Just shut up and watch! That's Nu Zalem he's fighting! He doesn't stand half a bloody chance!"

The floating man was majestic in his movements as he weaved through the air just above the ground towards the supposed leader of The Republic of Metroid Construction. Sepharos strained just to hear him speak:
"So, you haven't had enough, had you? Council of XIII, I summon thee!"
Out of midair, a portal appeared, upon which thirteen women in black jumpsuits jumped out of it and landed lightly upon the ground, and then proceeded to attack James in a group. Sepharos noticed that they all had varying looks and colors and hairstyles, so much that none of them even looked remotely the same. They also had a symbol branded to the backs of each of their necks, which read, as best as he could make out from this distance, "XIII." He could have sworn some of the women looked slightly familiar... The one with the long blonde hair, could it be? Naaaah...
Besides, he was busy jotting down all of the vivid details. The blurring movements of the women! The blows they landed upon the armor to keep it from getting mobile! The powerful punches that knocked the Council of XIII on its ass, one by one! Wait, that wasn't right. James was actually winning?
As desperate as it seemed, they'd all went for one last ditch attempt and jumped on top of the armour, knocking it to the ground and keeping it from standing back up. It looked like they were holding him, but wait... Wait... Was that a movement? Wait...

To Sepharos' surprise, James burst forth from his prison of womanflesh, tossing them in every direction under the blue sky. Before any one of them hit the ground, however, Nu Zalem waved his great hand, sending each of the Council of XIII back to the giant bedding in his own private dimension before any real damage of the goods occurred.
"Pity," Nu Zalem said, clearly feeling only slightly trifled, "that the Council of XIII could not keep you down. I guess that it will have to be me who ends your day once and for all, hmm?"
Just as suddenly as he spoke, he threw a multitude of punches into the Battle Suit itself, forcing James to step backwards as each blow hit.
"MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA!" He screamed, obviously doing some combo attack contrived from... somewhere. Sepharos jotted this note down as he thought it. "ZA WARUDO! TOKI WA TOMARE!" He yelled out, stopping time and summoning knives all about the prone form of James. He gave yet another shout ("SOSHITE TOKI WA UGOKI DESU!") and time unfroze, causing the knives to plunge straight into James' suit.
But James was still standing. James was obviously not going to stand for any of this. With a punch that could shatter whole buildings, James caught Nu Zalem straight in the chest. Nu Zalem flew straight into the sky, whereupon the small shadow of his flying form sparkled like a star in the bright sunlight. James was not amused in the slightest.

Sepharos gasped as the powerful man got defeated by the armoured one, just like that. He jotted notes furiously, leaving no margin for error. This was a story his editor would never forget. Well, at least it'd make the front page look majestic for a day--
"Hey, what the frak is going on here?"
Sepharos spun around to see a teenager walking down the street, obvious as the mad armoured person 20 yards in front of him. "I've been gone for forever! And now I come back and the place is a mess everywhere, with people dying in the streets! It's like there's no guarantee of your safet--"
The boy never finished the sentence, possibly because a missile hit the spot where he was standing. Sepharos shielded his face with his arms as the blood rained down, trying to keep it from getting in his eyes. A clang and an "Ow!" sounded out as something metallic conked him right in the head. Slowly he reached down to pick up the offending object, brushing off the bloody organic matter as best as he could. 'Small Mods,' he read. "Is this the madness we're moving towards? A rogue leader blowing up his own staff members?"
Still a bit dizzy since his brain hadn't fully processed the horrors of the human being in front of him being rapidly gored by an explosion, Sepharos stumbled about into Antidote's arms. As dazed as he was, he never got to see the armoured man coming into their alleyway hiding spot...

----

In a secluded warehouse not far away, four men sat in a circle around a rather splendid bonfire. Their ages varied somewhat, but they were certainly tough enough that no one in their right minds could even attempt to classify them as anything less. The warehouse roof was open so the smoke couldn't build. The fire burned heavy, lighting the walls as it saw fit and keeping the quartet warm. Of course, these weren't the real reasons the fire was burning. One man sighed as if he had nary a clue in the world and took another puff from the joint he was holding.
"Yo, Grime," he said. This one was almost 20 years of age, but the bags under his eyes revealed a worldly wisdom most people 20 years older than him would never possess. He was called Interdpth. "Pass the baggie, willya?"
A bulkier, more heavyset man, with a badge on his chest to match the one that Bloodsonic wore, complied to this request, tossing the plastic bag over the fire to the other side like it was a motorcyclist doing a death-defying stunt. Interdpth decided not to complain about this methodology of passing, and instead responded with a "Thanks, brah."
The four of them continued to sit around the bonfire, each of them smoking a joint of their own. The youngest of the group had just rolled another smoke, and proceeded to light the end of it on the burning fire in front of him.
"Sheeeeeeeeeeeeit, nigga," intoned a thin man in his late twenties who went by the name of Digital Mantra, or DMantra for short. He, too, wore a badge that said 'Small Mods.' "I just learned a new spell."

Suddenly, the door to the warehouse shook as someone on the other side attempted to punch it inward and failed, a huge dent appearing in the door where the blow landed.
"What the fuck was that?" said the youngest one, who called himself Wingard.
"It's probably the missus Mantra," the one called Grime said. "You know how she gets when D hangs out in here all the time."
"Aye," the rest of the group agreed.
The door was bashed inward again. Several dents appeared in the center of the strong door before it finally came off the hinges and flew towards the smokers, revealing Commander James Kennon with an outstretched foot. Two of the men just ducked and let the door fly over their head, watching the door as it hit the wall at the other side of the warehouse.
"Looks like she's got some hired help," said Interdpth. The rest of them agreed that that could be a bit of trouble.
"Thundaga, bitch," said DMantra, and the invader was struck down by a giant thunderbolt that somehow summoned itself inside the warehouse. James stood back up regardless, and pulled out his Assault Rifle, ready to kill.
"Oh, so you wanna play rough, eh?" said Grime, standing up from his spot on the opposite side of the fire from James and Interdpth. "You don't know Rule Number One, do ya?"
James did not speak. He moved closer and closer to the group, shuffling along as if he were worldly tired, but still full of rage.
"I see. You're the silent type, huh? Well, I've only got one thing to say..."
"Let me take him first, boss!" Wingard said eagerly. "He's no match for my fists of steel!"
"If you say so. Take it away," Grime dismissed, sitting back down at his place at the fire.
Wingard stood up from his place on the left side of the fire and walked over to James. "Yo, bucket of bolts! I bet you're not so tough--"

James landed one punch in the middle of Wingard's chest and his remains splattered across the length of the warehouse, including the three other druggies. Interdpth immediately stood up at this offense.
"Aww, hell naw," he complained. "You got fucking blood all over me. I'm gonna fucking kill you."
Interdpth stood up, turning around and moving towards James much like Wingard did. "You think you're tough? Your mom is tough. She had to be to accomodate me!"
James threw a punch. Interdpth dodged it, and used the movement to send James into the floor, while executing several heavy blows on his armored exterior. "Haha! Let's see how you like that, punk!"
James was even angrier now. Nobody rejected his blows like that. Nobody. He stood back up, ignoring the fierce pummelling Interdpth was doing to him as he moved, and grabbed Interdpth's neck, crushing it instantly. He tossed the body aside like it was a ragdoll. Nothing was going to stop him, no matter whether they liked it or not.

"I guess they learned a valuable life lesson, didn't they?" DMantra said, commenting on the two recently deceased.
Grime stood up again, his face a perfect calm. "Could be," he said. "Then again, it's not very smart to anger someone with armor as thick as steel, huh?"
He turned and looked at the silent marauder across the sea of flames, contemplating how best to deal with the situation. He's got about 200 tons of armor, and his battery looks fucked. His reserve cores must last at least another good few hours, Grime thought. Best time to take him down is here and now.

Grime leapt across the fire, tackling James headlong and smashing him into the ground. He tore into James armor as if it were nothing, tearing bits and pieces of it out as he saw fit. James was having none of this, and he punched Grime straight in the stomach. Grime doubled off of him, groaning at the strength present in that one punch, but he wasn't about to let his opponent get an advantage. Not today. Ignoring the pain, he stood back up, ready to do more damage to the armoured behemoth. James backed off a ways, pulling out an emergency rocket and firing it at Grime; he watched as the rocket hit its target dead on and engulfed his opponent in a sea of flames. Grime simply trudged out of the remnants of the explosion as if nothing happened. He held his opposite shoulder with one hand, stomping along the ground as the pain saw fit. James tried yet another rocket on the beast, but it was to no avail; Grime still kept moving toward him.

By this point, James was out of rockets, and his grenade supply was completely drained. He still had his Assault Rifle, but something in the depths of his mind his subconcious thoughts warned against even trying. For as enraged as he was, James felt fear starting to creep in, making him shiver in the remains of his suit. The steroidal hormones were warring ever furiously for control, fighting the flight response from even being a thought in his head. By this time, Grime had lumbered over to his foe, and had grabbed him by the arms. With a satisfying smash noise, Grime brought his head down on James' visor, shattering it instantly. He let go of James, letting him stumble backwards in a stupor as the glass in Grime's face screamed murder to his bloodstream. He didn't care a bit.

"You sure glad you messed with me, punk?" Grime taunted, losing a bit of his cool to the adrenaline rush. "You like doing this? We can do this every single day, it matters shit to me. And I'll hand your ass to you every--" he punctuated each word here with a blow to James armor-- "single--" *wham* "time. That's right, funny boy. You mess with me, I mess with you."

James was staggering by this point, on the verge of collapse due to the stress in his armor. He spotted a large shard of his visor on the floor, and quickly calculated the time it'd take him to put it to good use.
"You killed people today, and you have paid the ultimate price," Grime said, now smirking slightly. "Rule Number One. Don't mess with the tough guys unless you can pay the piper. Now, say good night... Clown."

With this, Grime leapt once more, landing on James and crashing both of them into the floor. Grime put his hands around James' neck, but he stopped when he felt a stab of ice roll through his chest. He looked down to see a giant visor shard jammed straight into his heart, growing slightly pale as he looked back at the enraged, bloodstricken face of Commander James Kennon. Grime slumped dramatically over onto the floor as the cold overswept him, thinking his last thoughts. "Looks like I mis... cal... culated..."

James was breathing heavily. The steroids had taken their toll on his physical system, and his thoughts and feelings all came rushing back at once. Fear... Panic... Terror... Depression... The faces of everyone he'd murdered... No... No...
"I see you had a bit of fun there, eh boy?" said the voice of DMantra, who was still sitting by the fire smoking a cigarette as if the bloodstained floor and gore-splattered warehouse walls were nothing but a sight of everyday life. "Oh, I don't mind if you kill me too. Life was just a big tarball of stupidity, anyway. Go ahea--"
He needn't have spoke more, since James had just done with the final edge of fury in his system the last murder he'd ever commit with an unconcious mind. James watched silently as DMantra collapsed to the ground, most likely due to the influence of the bullet in his head, and said in a pallid voice, "What have I done...?"

James didn't have to think about what he did next. The thoughts just came to his head naturally, and he earnestly, if not a little worriedly, agreed. Wordlessly, he lifted the battered helmet from his head and picked up the Assault Rifle, positioning it for effectivity and effortlessly pulling the trigger. Commander James Kennon had left the world terrified, with thoughts of his redemption in the bowels of Hell on his mind...

----

Whistling happily to himself, the red-sweatshirted man danced along the path to the Grand Republic, wondering what'd be in store for him today.
"Everyone's gonna love what I've writ," he said, fumbling for the keys to the main gate and unlocking it without a second thought. "It's a grand old story, with love notes and fun and games and penises and-- oh, dear god."
He'd walked into the plaza and gotten a good look, staring up and down at the gibs and bloodstains splattered everywhere you could imagine; up the walls, across surrounding buildings, scorch marks here and there, remnants of tables and fountains and things, and even a few dents in solid concrete here and there. Someone had been a busy, if not an extremely violent beaver.

"Fuck me," Zhs2 exclaimed. "Guess I'll go and get the mop..."[/spoiler]

[squishy_ichigo]

Very nice stuff! :D

Metconst is described as a rather snazzy looking place... I think Bloodsonic should draw a pic of how you described Metconst in your story. (not all destroyed and stuff, unless he really wants to)

My favorite part: "Upon his suit was a small badge that simply read 'Small Mods,' and it made him look vaguely more important. " XD

The fights were nice too! :D

[interdpth]

I totally loved it.

I FUCKING LOVED IT.

[RealRed]

The pen is mightier, THE PEN IS MIGHTIER!
I got to proofread this, so I read it a bit earlier. Fucking greatest.

I wonder how we all get out of hell..?

I might draw something. Metconst fanfic fanfic.

[personitis]

lol. What happens to Black Falcon and I? Part 2 maybe? =P

Good fanfic. Sounds very similar as to if this place were to go into panic of the sorts too. xD

[Nu Zalem]

I like how I technically didn't die, but got punched hard enough that I went back to my own dimension. You haven't seen the last of ME!!!!!!!

[Malpercio]

one word: win. this needs a sequel. who dies next, lol?

[Black Falcon]

Cool and funny story :D
I agree with person on making a second part!  :yay:
Just awesome stuff you wrote there.

Oh and if you're about to write the 2nd part because you're cool, don't forget to
[spoiler]*insert text here*
:grin:[/spoiler]

[Lunaria]

Now that I had the time (and internet) to read it, shit was great! :P

Nice job with the writing Zhs2, then again, I have read your other stuff so this is nothing new! :P

[FullOfFail]

Aww I went out without a fight :(

[personitis]

Aww I went out without a fight :(

DO A BARREL ROLL!

[Phazar]

Haha, I got shot when I was just coming back!  And my "Small Mods" badge becomes a weapon!

[Malpercio]

i wanna sequel, if not just because i'll see myself in something,  :lol:

[interdpth]

6 year bump, but I still love this.

[Grimlock]

6 year bump, but I still love this.

:lazer:

[Physix]

1 day bump woot

[dewhi100]

Bump. 10th anniversary of the incident.