Bang, Smash, Boom, Baby (Jubilee X-men Comicverse)
Title: Bang, Smash, Boom, Baby
Author: Perch
Disclaimer: I own nothing! All the characters in this story are the property of Marvel and I am intending no disrespect, nor am I making any form of profit off said characters, fictional places or other properties of Marvel. This is merely a small story written for my own pleasure and to stop the rampaging Marvel Zombies.
Fandom: X-men Comicverse
Characters: Jubilee
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Word Count: 1,151
Author’s Note: Written for wal-lace.
Details: Generation X characters. As survivors, as zombies, whatever. Bonus points for inclusion of Skin, Jubilee and Banshee, in any capacity.
Additional Notes: This short ficlet hasn’t been beta’d. Not really satisfied with it either.
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I’ll sum it all up for you with one word.
Zombies.
Yup, you heard me right, zombies; flesh rotting, corpse chewing, movie star zombies running, shuffling, flopping and skipping all over the place and who can stop them?
Only the most daring doer, the most adventuresome of totally awesome women, the fabulous, beautiful and flashy Jubilee! I mean, I’ve survived living on my own for a while, and hell even managed to stay alive in all my stints in various x-teams, so who else could stop a slavering, slobbering plague of zombies?
No one but me baby, that’s who!
I can’t tell you how it all started; I can’t pinpoint its origin or isolate the cause and create the cure. All I can do is try my damnedest to stay alive and keep your sorry butt alive as well.
Yeah, I know it’s harsh, but we’re in a harsh world made crazy with the introduction of guys who think people are made up of tasty crunchy bits. That and I’ve been spending days nonstop battling my way out of zombie-Ville while watching some of my nearest and dearest getting eaten, or worse becoming zombies in their own right and chasing after me.
Though honestly, I don’t really know which is worse; being chewed up and digested and irretrievably lost, or getting a couple of chunks taken out of you and shambling along with all the rest. The first option makes getting you to come back from the dead nearly impossible, while the second one leaves you open for cures. Though, I don’t know how I’d react to finding out I had been chowing down on people….
That’s all academic for right now anyway and I’m not in the mood to be stretching my brainy bits out on shit that I can’t fix at the moment. Nope, zombie killing is a pretty mindless job, (I know bad, bad, sick, bad Jubilee no cookie, joke, but a girl has to get her laughs where she can in these situations), and my job is to kill zombies and maybe, just maybe find a brainiac that hasn’t been reduced to kibble and help them produce a cure.
Yeah, I know it’s optimistic to think that there might be a cure, but what’s the alternative? It’s not like the zombies are going to chill and let me do my grocery shopping, or farm up grub for myself. Eventually all the easily prepared food is going to rot or be eaten and then what am I going to do? Hell, if there’s no cure are the zombies just going to zombie everyone and then set up little fight clubesque bars where they chew or be chewed?
The possibilities are just too gross to imagine and too self defeatist for me to let myself dwell on them.
Besides which, I’m not totally alone here. I found Banshee, doing a great job of beating the hell out of zombies. His vocal cords still aren’t perfect, but shit, beating a zombie with a baseball bat is just as effective as yelling at them…in my opinion even more so, it feels better.
Jeez maybe I really did spend too much time with Wolvie, or maybe this is my own ruthless survival instinct coming out to play. All I know is that performing the ol’ razzle dazzle on the zombies doesn’t do much either. Though blowing them up is safer in the long run then hitting them. Keeps all my fleshy bits away from the claws and teeth.
Speaking of Wolvie, I don’t know where he is and it’s worrying me. I mean, I can’t imagine Wolvie getting taken down, but then, when he and I first teamed up he was delirious and near death and not very put together at all. Wolvie on a continuous brain fart makes a girl wonder how the hell she’s managed to stay put together in her own head hanging out with him for a prolonged period of time.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Wolvie, I really do, with all my heart even, and I’d seriously die for him, I truly would, but he’s not necessarily always there in his own head and if I couldn’t recognize that, I’d be doing both of us a disservice. I just wish, really wish, he was here. He’d know how to get through these guys faster, get us out of Westchester, out of New York, crammed full of peeps wanting to eat us. I just wish…shit I wish a lot of things, but none of them come true so fuck it anyway.
I’m digressing and getting messy on all kinds of tracks. We’re talking about Zombies. Zombies are eating the world and I’m not one of them and neither is Banshee and neither are you, so you’d best pick up something strong and durable and get with the program here because I don’t know how many other “normals” there are left in this world, but I’m not looking forward to being the “mother of a new world” if you catch my drift…and if you don’t I’m basically saying once we get out of this I’m not going to end up barefoot and pregnant trying to repopulate the planet so get off your ass and come help us find more survivors and stop this menace.
It is crazy isn’t it? This entire time people have been hating mutants, hunting mutants, and some mutants in return have been issuing that same hate. Hell people hate each other for every reason under the sun and on their bodies, beliefs and orientations, but now, now we all hate zombies and suddenly that make us normal. When I was a kid I didn’t want to be normal, when I was a teenager I’d have died rather then been so, I was so into the romance of being my own unique individual, my own ME with a capital me, and then I was a mutant and I couldn’t be normal. Now I am a norm man, I’m as normal as you and Sean, though, okay Sean is an exception man, that guy has seriously not only gotten off his rocker, he leapt off it and then kicked the rocker into a corner, but the point is, none of our petty mutant, Chinese American, straight or gay bullshit matters anymore. The point is…
The point is we’re all too scared to have time to hate on each other right now.
I know I can get talky can’t I? I’m prone not to know when to shut up, but it’s all so fucked up man. The whole world is crazy and yesterday I could swear I saw my old buddy, teammate, roomie Angelo rising from his grave. I don’t know what to do other than survive and I’m planning on surviving man.
Now stop asking stupid questions, pick up that pipe and get ready. I hear another wave coming.
Author: Perch
Disclaimer: I own nothing! All the characters in this story are the property of Marvel and I am intending no disrespect, nor am I making any form of profit off said characters, fictional places or other properties of Marvel. This is merely a small story written for my own pleasure and to stop the rampaging Marvel Zombies.
Fandom: X-men Comicverse
Characters: Jubilee
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Word Count: 1,151
Author’s Note: Written for wal-lace.
Details: Generation X characters. As survivors, as zombies, whatever. Bonus points for inclusion of Skin, Jubilee and Banshee, in any capacity.
Additional Notes: This short ficlet hasn’t been beta’d. Not really satisfied with it either.
----------------------------------------
I’ll sum it all up for you with one word.
Zombies.
Yup, you heard me right, zombies; flesh rotting, corpse chewing, movie star zombies running, shuffling, flopping and skipping all over the place and who can stop them?
Only the most daring doer, the most adventuresome of totally awesome women, the fabulous, beautiful and flashy Jubilee! I mean, I’ve survived living on my own for a while, and hell even managed to stay alive in all my stints in various x-teams, so who else could stop a slavering, slobbering plague of zombies?
No one but me baby, that’s who!
I can’t tell you how it all started; I can’t pinpoint its origin or isolate the cause and create the cure. All I can do is try my damnedest to stay alive and keep your sorry butt alive as well.
Yeah, I know it’s harsh, but we’re in a harsh world made crazy with the introduction of guys who think people are made up of tasty crunchy bits. That and I’ve been spending days nonstop battling my way out of zombie-Ville while watching some of my nearest and dearest getting eaten, or worse becoming zombies in their own right and chasing after me.
Though honestly, I don’t really know which is worse; being chewed up and digested and irretrievably lost, or getting a couple of chunks taken out of you and shambling along with all the rest. The first option makes getting you to come back from the dead nearly impossible, while the second one leaves you open for cures. Though, I don’t know how I’d react to finding out I had been chowing down on people….
That’s all academic for right now anyway and I’m not in the mood to be stretching my brainy bits out on shit that I can’t fix at the moment. Nope, zombie killing is a pretty mindless job, (I know bad, bad, sick, bad Jubilee no cookie, joke, but a girl has to get her laughs where she can in these situations), and my job is to kill zombies and maybe, just maybe find a brainiac that hasn’t been reduced to kibble and help them produce a cure.
Yeah, I know it’s optimistic to think that there might be a cure, but what’s the alternative? It’s not like the zombies are going to chill and let me do my grocery shopping, or farm up grub for myself. Eventually all the easily prepared food is going to rot or be eaten and then what am I going to do? Hell, if there’s no cure are the zombies just going to zombie everyone and then set up little fight clubesque bars where they chew or be chewed?
The possibilities are just too gross to imagine and too self defeatist for me to let myself dwell on them.
Besides which, I’m not totally alone here. I found Banshee, doing a great job of beating the hell out of zombies. His vocal cords still aren’t perfect, but shit, beating a zombie with a baseball bat is just as effective as yelling at them…in my opinion even more so, it feels better.
Jeez maybe I really did spend too much time with Wolvie, or maybe this is my own ruthless survival instinct coming out to play. All I know is that performing the ol’ razzle dazzle on the zombies doesn’t do much either. Though blowing them up is safer in the long run then hitting them. Keeps all my fleshy bits away from the claws and teeth.
Speaking of Wolvie, I don’t know where he is and it’s worrying me. I mean, I can’t imagine Wolvie getting taken down, but then, when he and I first teamed up he was delirious and near death and not very put together at all. Wolvie on a continuous brain fart makes a girl wonder how the hell she’s managed to stay put together in her own head hanging out with him for a prolonged period of time.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Wolvie, I really do, with all my heart even, and I’d seriously die for him, I truly would, but he’s not necessarily always there in his own head and if I couldn’t recognize that, I’d be doing both of us a disservice. I just wish, really wish, he was here. He’d know how to get through these guys faster, get us out of Westchester, out of New York, crammed full of peeps wanting to eat us. I just wish…shit I wish a lot of things, but none of them come true so fuck it anyway.
I’m digressing and getting messy on all kinds of tracks. We’re talking about Zombies. Zombies are eating the world and I’m not one of them and neither is Banshee and neither are you, so you’d best pick up something strong and durable and get with the program here because I don’t know how many other “normals” there are left in this world, but I’m not looking forward to being the “mother of a new world” if you catch my drift…and if you don’t I’m basically saying once we get out of this I’m not going to end up barefoot and pregnant trying to repopulate the planet so get off your ass and come help us find more survivors and stop this menace.
It is crazy isn’t it? This entire time people have been hating mutants, hunting mutants, and some mutants in return have been issuing that same hate. Hell people hate each other for every reason under the sun and on their bodies, beliefs and orientations, but now, now we all hate zombies and suddenly that make us normal. When I was a kid I didn’t want to be normal, when I was a teenager I’d have died rather then been so, I was so into the romance of being my own unique individual, my own ME with a capital me, and then I was a mutant and I couldn’t be normal. Now I am a norm man, I’m as normal as you and Sean, though, okay Sean is an exception man, that guy has seriously not only gotten off his rocker, he leapt off it and then kicked the rocker into a corner, but the point is, none of our petty mutant, Chinese American, straight or gay bullshit matters anymore. The point is…
The point is we’re all too scared to have time to hate on each other right now.
I know I can get talky can’t I? I’m prone not to know when to shut up, but it’s all so fucked up man. The whole world is crazy and yesterday I could swear I saw my old buddy, teammate, roomie Angelo rising from his grave. I don’t know what to do other than survive and I’m planning on surviving man.
Now stop asking stupid questions, pick up that pipe and get ready. I hear another wave coming.