Creativity is Overrated
Note: This is a serious story with very specific rules
It was a dark and stormy night, like usually in Ye Olde Neo Obama and Dieter Preston was being let go by the company. "You know, we would love to keep you on our staff, but..." Jurgen Partridge wiped away a tear. "You broke the law, and now they're going to come for you."
Dieter Preston, tall and handsome clad in a leather trench coat scowled at Jurgen. "I did what I had to do, I had to try to right the wrongs that I had made."
Jurgen lay his muscular hand on Dieter's shoulder, his eyes impossibly blue, staring into Dieter's. "I know Dieter, but you now carry the Five Staff Oni within you." Jurgen's eyes stared at Dieter's left eye. Once it was blue like Jurgens, but now it was red, and radiated evil power. Dieter turned from Jurgen and punched a hole in the wall.
"So this is how it's going to be." Dieter said, wrought with emotion. "Then so be it, I will leave the company."
Dieter walked to the window and was about to leap out into the night when Jurgen stopped him. "Wait! Let Jericho Jefferson help you out. The board of director's told me to cut you off entirely, but I can't do that with good conscience. He'll help you out while you hide and get a new identity."
"Okay, but only because of our past, Jurgen."
"Thank you, Dieter." Jurgen smiled and gave his friend a big hug, squeezing his friend's muscular frame.
Jericho greeted Dieter angrily outside of the building. "Hey, fool." His skin was darker than chocolate and he wore an odd green hat. Dieter wondered about the hat for a moment but thought better of it.
"Jericho?" he asked.
"Yeah, that's me, we gotta get you in hiding dog."
Dieter pouted as the rain pounded down on them, his previously perfectly combed hair was running down his face, giving the impression of a hurt puppy, with the body of a pale Superman dressed in black. The past plagued him, and he thought... If he hadn't fallen in love with that person, that person might still be alive, and he would still have his job.
"Wha chu lookin' all glum and shit? I is the one that has to babysit yo ass." Jericho pushed Dieter lightly.
"Fabricati diem, pvnc" Dieter hissed at Jericho, but then calmed down. "Sorry, I'm kind of on edge."
Jericho flashed his katana, making sure Dieter could see it, "yeah, well I'll show you my edge if you don't calm down. What was that shit though, latin?"
"Yeah, my family's motto." Dieter said, reminiscing to a more innocent time. "Brighter days through justice."
"That's pretty whack." Jericho said, a police tank passed them by, chasing down a criminal.
Dieter agreed with Jericho, and felt like murder. "Heh, yeah, know the motto of the corporation?"
"Morituri Nolumus Mori, I think, why, you think I'm some kind of a retard?" Jericho growled and pulled out his katana once more, Dieter jumped backwards and pulled out his gunblade.
"No, I just wanted to make conversation." Dieter's evil eye shone, and the hair's on Jericho's back stood on end. "Morituri Nolumus Mori, can be translated as Death Knows Only the Dead."
"Wow, you like a scholar or some shit?" Jericho sheathed his katana, insecurely.
Dieter grinned, sadly. "Or some shit, yeah."
Jericho showed Dieter his new hide out. It was a horrible dump, a victorian mansion that had been left deserted for over fifty years, no one had been around to clean it, and thick layers of cobweb and dust lay on every surface, nook and cranny. Dieter felt sick to his stomach, but Jericho didn't seem too bothered. He felt like commenting on the filth, but decided against it, he knew Jericho was nothing but a hired gun, he wouldn't care about how he felt. He had made that adamantly clear on their way to the mansion, at the edge of Ye Olde Neo Obama. "What now, Jericho."
"You just stay low. The cops, the secret service and even fucking S.A.U.R.O.N. are after you, fool." Jericho peeked out the window, a helicopter flew over, it's spotlight blinding both men momentarily, before running off somewhere else again. "If they find you here we're all more or less fucked, bro."
"You are not my brother, but thank you for leading me here." The two men shook hands and Jericho left, leaving Dieter alone in the massive mansion, alone, save for his guilty conscience. He explored the mansion, all three stories, until he decided on a bed room. He dusted the cobwebs and the dust away, impeccably and then shed his clothing, revealing his ripped body, to the silent walls. A big scar stretched from his chest and down to his pelvic area, he touched it.
He had gotten it protecting that person.
Unable to look at himself anymore, Dieter went to sleep.
Rules! YAY!
The approach one should take to this is:
It was a dark and stormy night, like usually in Ye Olde Neo Obama and Dieter Preston was being let go by the company. "You know, we would love to keep you on our staff, but..." Jurgen Partridge wiped away a tear. "You broke the law, and now they're going to come for you."
Dieter Preston, tall and handsome clad in a leather trench coat scowled at Jurgen. "I did what I had to do, I had to try to right the wrongs that I had made."
Jurgen lay his muscular hand on Dieter's shoulder, his eyes impossibly blue, staring into Dieter's. "I know Dieter, but you now carry the Five Staff Oni within you." Jurgen's eyes stared at Dieter's left eye. Once it was blue like Jurgens, but now it was red, and radiated evil power. Dieter turned from Jurgen and punched a hole in the wall.
"So this is how it's going to be." Dieter said, wrought with emotion. "Then so be it, I will leave the company."
Dieter walked to the window and was about to leap out into the night when Jurgen stopped him. "Wait! Let Jericho Jefferson help you out. The board of director's told me to cut you off entirely, but I can't do that with good conscience. He'll help you out while you hide and get a new identity."
"Okay, but only because of our past, Jurgen."
"Thank you, Dieter." Jurgen smiled and gave his friend a big hug, squeezing his friend's muscular frame.
Jericho greeted Dieter angrily outside of the building. "Hey, fool." His skin was darker than chocolate and he wore an odd green hat. Dieter wondered about the hat for a moment but thought better of it.
"Jericho?" he asked.
"Yeah, that's me, we gotta get you in hiding dog."
Dieter pouted as the rain pounded down on them, his previously perfectly combed hair was running down his face, giving the impression of a hurt puppy, with the body of a pale Superman dressed in black. The past plagued him, and he thought... If he hadn't fallen in love with that person, that person might still be alive, and he would still have his job.
"Wha chu lookin' all glum and shit? I is the one that has to babysit yo ass." Jericho pushed Dieter lightly.
"Fabricati diem, pvnc" Dieter hissed at Jericho, but then calmed down. "Sorry, I'm kind of on edge."
Jericho flashed his katana, making sure Dieter could see it, "yeah, well I'll show you my edge if you don't calm down. What was that shit though, latin?"
"Yeah, my family's motto." Dieter said, reminiscing to a more innocent time. "Brighter days through justice."
"That's pretty whack." Jericho said, a police tank passed them by, chasing down a criminal.
Dieter agreed with Jericho, and felt like murder. "Heh, yeah, know the motto of the corporation?"
"Morituri Nolumus Mori, I think, why, you think I'm some kind of a retard?" Jericho growled and pulled out his katana once more, Dieter jumped backwards and pulled out his gunblade.
"No, I just wanted to make conversation." Dieter's evil eye shone, and the hair's on Jericho's back stood on end. "Morituri Nolumus Mori, can be translated as Death Knows Only the Dead."
"Wow, you like a scholar or some shit?" Jericho sheathed his katana, insecurely.
Dieter grinned, sadly. "Or some shit, yeah."
Jericho showed Dieter his new hide out. It was a horrible dump, a victorian mansion that had been left deserted for over fifty years, no one had been around to clean it, and thick layers of cobweb and dust lay on every surface, nook and cranny. Dieter felt sick to his stomach, but Jericho didn't seem too bothered. He felt like commenting on the filth, but decided against it, he knew Jericho was nothing but a hired gun, he wouldn't care about how he felt. He had made that adamantly clear on their way to the mansion, at the edge of Ye Olde Neo Obama. "What now, Jericho."
"You just stay low. The cops, the secret service and even fucking S.A.U.R.O.N. are after you, fool." Jericho peeked out the window, a helicopter flew over, it's spotlight blinding both men momentarily, before running off somewhere else again. "If they find you here we're all more or less fucked, bro."
"You are not my brother, but thank you for leading me here." The two men shook hands and Jericho left, leaving Dieter alone in the massive mansion, alone, save for his guilty conscience. He explored the mansion, all three stories, until he decided on a bed room. He dusted the cobwebs and the dust away, impeccably and then shed his clothing, revealing his ripped body, to the silent walls. A big scar stretched from his chest and down to his pelvic area, he touched it.
He had gotten it protecting that person.
Unable to look at himself anymore, Dieter went to sleep.
Rules! YAY!
The approach one should take to this is:
- Theft is just peachy, steal as much as you like.
- This is like one of the worst fanfics you have ever seen.
- You should reference at least a single trope and a comic, anime, movie or tv-series in every post. No matter what.
- This is serious business!
- Everything you hate about any kind of media is more than welcome. Unless it's boring, then not so much.