Of course, the troll, known as one Mr. Cock Rocket, starts making trouble and both he and Weyoun are set upon by our gnashing teeth.
Let's get it on.
Subject: (TGOD) Vader's Choice comes out of retirement
to take out Timmy
Date: Tue, 19 Sep 2000 07:08:49 -0500
From: "Transcend" <transcend@cybertown.com>
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars
"Damnit!", thought Transcend as he read the latest posts from the new Timmy, "Looks like I am going to have to call the boys out of retirement." Transcend walks across the room to the comm system and begins typing a message. "Computer, encrypt proticol Vader's Choice, and send message", says Transcend.
He doesn't have to wait long, a shuttle arrives to pick him up. His former Flight Officer approaches and says, "Commander Transcend Sir, Welcome back sir." "It's good to be back officer, this mission is going to need everything we can put together", Transcend states. "Did you manage to get the others together?" 'Yes sir", he says, "I was even able to dig our old base ship out of mothballs, the VSD Vader's Fist." A smile comes over Transcend's face. "Well let's get going, can hold this mission up any longer", he says.
The shuttle enters hyperspace and proceeds to the co-ordinates of the base ship.
-Later at the ships breifing room-
"Welcome men, it's been a long time since we've flown together, but we were the best of the best, the elite of the elite, Lord Vader's personal special operations squadron, I know that this mission will be difficult, but we will prevail", Transcend says confidantly. The Flight Officer speaks up, "What exactly IS this mission you've pulled us out of retirement for sir, are we finally going to hit back at those rebel scum?" "Not exactly", answers Transcend, "our mission is against a foe more powerful then any we have faced, including the famed Rogue Squadron. We are making a punishment operation, a heavy assault, our target is one Timmy, aka "Cock Rocket", aka, "Cock Sucker". We are being deployed as part of Operation Final Solution. Don't get me wrong, this is not just a standard attack on a troll here, this is a Troll rivalling TOWNMNBS in power and stupidity."
A pilot stands up. "But Sir", he says, " It's impossible to hit a target with a bozon field this high, the targetting computers will be scrambled, and on top of that something with a field count as high as this must be denser then pure neutronium!"
"It will be difficult", Transcend replies, "but not impossible, we must remember our training, we must remember the force. We will not be risking our base ship on this, the bozon fields are too intense, we will be attacking with snubfighters only. We will divide into two flight groups. Group Alpha will provide cover in our modified Tie Interceptors, as you know they are equipped with hyperdrives so there will be no problem getting in. Group Omega will be the main attack wing, led by myself personally, we will be flying in Assault Gunboats, fully armed and equipped. Any questions? -slight pause- Then get to your ships, and may the Force be with you."
-minutes later, approaching target-
"Alpha 3 to Alpha Leader, what are we doing, this troll is denser then neutronium and everyone knows that protorps are conventional warheads and Imperial ships don't have shields. Why a runabout with poleron beams could slice up an Eclipse!"
"Alpha Leader to Alpha 3, get yourself together man, you're being buffetted by a bozon surge, use the force."
"Alpha 3 to Alpha Leader, but you KNOW that the force doesn't exist in the Star Trek Universe!"
"Omega Leader to Omega 6, use your ion canons to take Alpha 3 out of the action, he can only hurt the mission now."
"Understood Omega Leader"
"Omega Leader to all ships, watch those bozon field surges, use the force to neutralize their effects. Remember your training."
"Roger, Omega Leader"
"Omega Leader to Omega 3, make your attack run, we'll cover"
"Omega 3 respond"
"Omega 4 where's Omega 3?"
"Damnit Omegas 3 and 4 respond and that's an order"
"Omega 5 to Omega Leader, I have them, they are caught in a bozon surge, it appears they are playing "ion canon" tag"
"Omega 5 you'll have to make the run, Omegas 3 and 4 are too far gone."
"Copy Omega Leader"
The small ship begins it's dive. Omega 5, closely followed by his wingman Omega 6, begins to close to target.
"Bozon field is intensifying, hard to fight it's..." <static>
"Omega 5 report"
"Omega 5 report"
"Omega 5 to Omega Leader...using the force to fight bozon field....don't know how much longer....."
"Omega 5 if you can't take it pull out, we can't afford to lose you, you can always make another run"
"Omega 5 to Omega Leader, Torpedoes Away!"
"Omega 6 to Omega Leader, Torpedoes Away!"
"Omega 5 to Omega Leader, detonation does not appear to have made a dent sir, these torpedoes are worthless against this strong a troll"
"Omega Leader to Omega 5, we'll see about that. I am making my attack run, Omega 2 follow in. And Omega 5, cut the chatter."
Transcend took the controls and headed in, it was clear what he had to do. He reached up and switched his targetting computer off, and stretched out with the force. Feeling where the bozon field surges were he did his best to pilot around them, but still had the occasional trollish thought poping into his mind.
"But SW ships can only go 1.5 times the speed of light, and that's CANON"
"ARG!!!!!!"
"Omega 2 to Omega Leader are you alright sir?"
"Omega Leader to Omega 2, No problem, hit a small unexpected bozon surge, I'll be fine."
"Omega Leader to all ships, repeat all ships, I want you to follow me in, hit 'em with blaster fire if you have to but all ships concentrate your fire, turn off your targetting computers and concentrate on the Force"
Transcend regained control of his craft, it's been awhile since he'd been in the cockpit of an Assault Gunboat, it was good to be back. Feeling the ebb and flow of the bozon field surges he led his ship down towards the core of it all, the beast, Timmy. Stretching out with the force he kept pushing through the nearly infinite bozon fields at the center, this one was a powerful TOWNMNBS clone alright. Suddenly he sensed his opponent's weakness.
"All ships, this is Omega Leader. Forget the head, repeat forget the head, it's too thick. His weakness for gay porn and vibrators shall be his undoing, target the ass. Repeat target his ASS."
"Heh the old Thermal Exhast port trick, should be no problem, all that gay sex has opened him up to at least 2 meters wide, I used to bullseye wamprats in my T-16 back home, they aren't much bigger then 2 meters"
"Cut the chatter Omega 2"
Although he hated to do so, it was time for a dreaded trench run, and this was one trench no-one wanted to go down. He pulled in, the manuvering would be difficult, there was crusted shit and bulging fat everywhere. Stretching out with the force he sensed his target.....
"Omega Leader to all ships, FIRE!"
"Torpedoes Away!"
"Firing all canons"
"Omega Leader to all ships, pull up, repeat PULL UP"
All fighters suddenly pulled hard. The G forces were intense even with the compensators.
"We have to get clear before..."
And suddenly the ass blew.
"YEEEEEEHAW"
"WOOHOO"
"WE MADE IT"
"Got alittle scortched but I'm alright"
"Omega Leader to all ships, return to base"
"Oh and cut that damn chatter what are we a bunch of hick rebels"
"Sorry Sir"
"Appologies Commander"
-Hyperspace-
The End?
--
"What makes sense is irrelevant." -Elim
Subject: [TGOD] (Thelea's challenge) England
vs France, Final Quarter
Date: Mon, 18 Sep 2000 23:24:40 +1200
From: Spyda <Iam@theshop.com>
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars
"NOPE!!! I said that's NO GOAL! France wins, get off the field!" Yelled the refferee. Suddenly he heard the sound of 20 drunken football fans running towards him. He turned around just in time to see the sweaty sods pull out their knives and carve him up like a turky. It was a sensation unfamiliar to him, such a variety of clubs and stabbing weapons.
"Fuck you France!" Yelled one of the hooligans as they fanned out from the refferee's slashed corpse. However the most of theFrench had already fled the field as the drunks staggered around lokking for someone else to mince up. The remaining French players decided that if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
The group left the stadium and found themselves a nice dark ally to start taking heroine shots. When all of a sudden they heard two voices from the darkness.
"I just don't know what to do," Cried one of the voices, "ever sinse you came into my life everyone has been so mean to me." He continued to sob, "I hate them, I hate them, I hate them!" "Cheer up Weyoun. Life's not all sunshine and lolly pops."
The group wandered into the ally to find two of the local townsfolk, Weyoun the Sobbing Goat Banger and his best friend Tim Ness, having a heart to heart. Tim put his arm around Weyoun. "I know what'll make you feel better. There's a pair of goats that moved next door. What do you say we go over there and have an 'early night'?"
"I think it's about time I came over there and sawed your fucking head off!" Yelled one of the English. "Cut his fucking head off!" Came a French acsent. "YEAH!" They all yelled in unison (except Weyoung and Tim).
The whole group ran over to the two beastiality sexperts and slashed their arms and legs with rusty razor blades. Blood sprayed over the surrounding area as the knives tore through the pair of goat victomizers, cleaving the rancid flesh, leaving fist long open wounds. After a sufficient amount of scarring had been inflicted the group broke out the knuckles and proceeded to beat the beastophiles into submission. Not one part of either of their bodies hadn't turned either red or blue. Blood began to leak from the victoms. Flys were buzzing around the open flesh.
Weyoun and Goat Rocket thought that they had experienced the limits of pain that could be experienced by any single creature, they were wrong. Maggots began to emerge from the pork poker's now gangrenous wounds. They soccer hooligans must have planted them in there. The maggots began to slowly chew away at the rancid flesh, tearing through the exposed nerve endings with their hundreds of thousands of tiny teeth. They opened their mouths to let out a scream. But only managed a muffled moan. Pain had already taken their strength. The maggots were already in their throats, crawling, eating away, slithering, disgusting. They looked at each other in horror as they saw the maggots emerge from their counterparts nose, mouth and ears. Then they squirmed in horror as they realised that the same thing was happening to them. The last thing they saw were maggots crawling over each other's eyes. A surge of pain, then it all went back.
The hooligans were still watching. "Looks like you have a little maggot problem." "Allow me to fix that." One of them pulled out a full working version of Spaceballs the Flame Thrower (tm).
Wave upon wave of fire flowed over their bodies. The two lamb humpers prayed for a quick death with their dwindling consiousness. But this was not to happen. Their bodies coursed with pain as if they were on fire. Back in reality, they WERE fire.
And they continued to burn throughout the cold winter night.
Subject: [TGOD] Payback
Date: Mon, 18 Sep 2000 00:01:02 -0500 (CDT)
From: Fifty_Caliber@webtv.net (Nathan Yates)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars
In his secret lair in Louisiana, after getting back from a grueling mission where he had to save Earth from a secret alien invasion, Lt. Commander Nathan Yates of the Cleaners settled in to check out what was going down on ASVS. He logged on and found to his dismay the ng had been flooded by moronic trolls, calling himself "Cock Rocket". Needless to say, this ruined his ability to enjoy the group. But then the group denizens found out where he lived. He noticed the LT hadn't been around lately. He was probably out on a mission of his own. Lately several of the Cleaners did freelance solo missions for a little fun, and extra cash. Nathan could now get that Playstation 2 that was coming out, along with all the accessories.:-) The grueling part of his last mission was it required him to do lots of investigating, brawls with several aliens that posed as humans(and these guys were TOUGH), and lots of travel. He had to be a little discreet, so he had to do a lot of driving. But, finally, he found out a number of the aliens' head honchos were having a big meeting, including the head of their empire. All Nathan had to do was park his car a few miles from the luxerious compound the meeting was taking place, get out a proton missile launcher, set it for maximum yeild (.5 kt), and let 'er rip. Mission accomplished. Anyway, since he knew where this guy lived, he decided to gas up his TIE, and take off.
***************************
Cock Rocket proceeded to spew his venom across usenet, and when he lost an account, would change his name, and it would usually continue to be something vulger and/or obscure, with names like 'The Choda Master" Finally it got late and he got too tired to stay up, so he went to bed, and dreamt of things the author would not care to think of. This was Yates' chance. Once he saw the lights go out, he got to work. He deftly picked the lock to the house and snuck inside. First, he went to the bedroom, and applied chloroform to CR. Then he went into the bathroom. He had something special in mind for ol' CR.
***************************
Rocket got up the next morning, and had to go to the bathroom, like most people do. He did his business, and flushed the toliet. He noticed an odd click. Suddenly, the top section of the toilet tank exploded, sending shards of porceilen along with buckshot into CR's lower abdomen, disemboweling him and turning him into an eunich. The advanced Claymore mine had done its job. He died a few hours later. Cops investigating checked his computer logs, and according to them, he had sent messages all out on usenet, that said "Do NOT kriff with ASVS. Look at what happened to me" And there was a photo that showed what was left of Cock Rocket, shortly after the explosion. Some of the police wet there pants. Others knew they didn't have a bit of evidence on who did it. So they just put it down as a drug deal gone bad or something like that. They figured it was better than dealing with whomever had done it. This held possibilities when they found crack and a pipe under his bed. The autopsy revealed he was a user.
************************************
The miniature holo-cam, disguised as an insect, flew back to Nathan's hidden TIE Gunboat from CR's house, and landed in his palm. He then placed it in its case, powered up, and took off for home.
Fin.
"This thermal exhaust port is too freakin' big!"--Emperor Palpatine, 'A Death Star is Born', Star Wars Tales #4
Subject: [TGOD] The end of Cock Rocket.
Date: Sun, 17 Sep 2000 13:41:09 GMT
From: Commander Thelea <cmdr_thelea@my-deja.com>
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars
It had been easy enough to reach
his house and stun the fool in his sleep. Now, though.. Now.. The punishment
would have to be appropriate and elaborate. Something even Lieutenant Hit-Man
would approve of.
Tim was laying there, untied, outside the doors in the Cleaners' complex. The very important, very special doors. Thelea, of course, as their air cover, had access to the base.
As the troll Tim, known as Cock Rocket, awoke, he saw those two, glowing red eyes staring down at him, unblinking, mercilessly. Dressed in flight suit minus the helmet, Thelea held a whip. It was quite a nice impression on the Chiss female, really. Though the specimen before her was quite pathetic. Unsurprising. He was not obese, nor what one could call fat, but nor was he thin or muscular or even properly proportioned.. A bit paunchy, would be correct. She figured he would have been at 400lbs or so in another decade at the current calculated rate of fat consumption.. But he would not live that long. Short. Many humans were short compared with the Chiss standard. This one was no more than five foot, eight inches of their "Imperial" measurements.
He blinked in fear and stunned confusion, then mustered the courage to speak. "Take off the fucking mask, bitch! I order you, as Master Hax0r Xtreme!" She kicked him in the groin. He sequealed like a pig and rolled on the floor there in agony. She took one step back.
"Listen.. Carefully." She pointed to the doors. "In there.. Is a genuine Federation holodeck." She paused. He responded "Fuck you, bitch, those things ain't real!" and started laughing. The whip lashed, tearing through his nightshirt and laying a deep trail of red in his back. "I told you to listen, inbred, ignorant fool. Oh, and it's HACKER, not 'Hax0r'."
"Once inside the Holodeck.. You will be stranded on an island perfectly recreated from a nineteen seventies.. Perhaps sixties.. film. This island is filled with beautiful women. The ruler of the island was played by the same woman who was 'The Golden Girl' in James Bond." Tim- CR started to drool. Thelea whipped him again. Another snap, another line is his back, and he howled in pain. "Don't stain the floor."
She walked over to the controls, and opened the doors, revealing a beach, which Tim-CR crawled to eagerly. When he tried to stand on the beach of the island to look around for the previously mentioned women, the whip lashed into his back the third time. He fell screaming. When he finally shut up, Thelea grinned sadistically. "Oh... This Holodeck, since it is used for the Cleaners' training purposes, has not only had the safety protocols disabled, but... REMOVED."
Tim-CR frowned in confusion. "So what, bitch! I'll be fucking, not fighting!"
The whip lashed out again, once again, with precision, laying deeply into Tim's back. He rolled about in the sand, and the salt water of a wave on the beach crashed against his back, leaving salt in the open wounds. Thelea calmly waited as he howled in agony for another few minutes.
"Now.. I will finish what I was saying. These are not normal women. They are a secret society of women. The leader's name.. Is... Sumuru. It is her plan to conquer the world and rule it as a mystical sort of matriarachal empire in which all perfect men are used as breeding slaves and all imperfect ones are killed. Her forces are equipped with machine pistolas, and special pistols which fire bullets that can turn people into stone.." Tim-CR's eyes widened in fear. "Yes, stone." Thelea said. "I don't know what happens to them then. Anyway.. You will be locked in here.. No safety protocols, on the island fortress base of these women. I suggest you start running.. They've surely heard your pathetic screaming by now."
Yelling incoherently, Tim-CR charged the doors. The whip lashed at his feet and he tumbled and fell. Thelea stepped out, and tapped in the commands to close and shut the doors, which then vanished from appearence on the other side. Smiling, she went into the common room to watch the footage of what came next. The Million Eyes of Sumuru had been the perfect choice of a movie for this tourture.
The came; One asian, two blondes, one hispanic, all incredibly beautiful, armed with the sub-machineguns, as promised. Tim-CR managed to force himself to run first. He ran screaming in terror as the bullets chewed up foilage around him and the women chased him into the Jungle with catlike grace. Finally, he tripped over a log, which, oddly enough, saved his head from a burst of bullets, which instead chewed through his right arm as he fell. Letting out a scream that could be heard in Hong Kong, he fell unconscious from the pain.
When he awoke, the tall, pale, black haired Sumuru was observing him along with the ones who had tracked him down. He was chained to a wall in a dungeon, nude. She had already been observing him for a while. Unsurprisingly, when he saw his situation, he started to get a hard- on. "Mmm.. Babes!" was all he could incoherently say. Sumuru frowned, then snickered at the.. Extent.. of his pathetic organ.
At the touch of a button, he was rotated in his chains to present his back, already scarred. Sumuru's whip, a Cat o' Nine Tails with nine knots per tail, lashed out, again and again, as Tim-CR howled and writhed in agony. Again, and again, and again, until his back was a bloody mess of chewed up flesh. Two dozen lashes with the whip, laid on with a professional expertise even better than Thelea's. And Sumuru's whip had been far more painful.. And effective... Than Thelea's, for this sort of tourture.
Tim-CR would have already been unconscious, but before awakening, had he not been injecting with drugs before being chained up. Now he had to suffer through it all.
Finally, Sumuru laughed cruelly. "Salt!" she barked. Another of the beautiful women came forward holding a bucket of salt, which was flung against the bloody pulp of Tim-CR's back. Screaming and writhing in pain and agony again as what nerves that remained were inflamed, Sumuru had him turned around, and looked into his eyes, and sneered.
"You really are far to pathetic to serve as a slave in my coming world order." She drew her pistol, and aimed it at Tim-CR. His eyes widened as he remembered Thelea's words. Sumuru fired, and Tim-CR screamed and screamed and screamed first from the pain of impact and then from his body tensing and solidifying into granite.
When it was done, he realized to his horror that he could still see, though through a thin grey haze, and he could still think, but that he couldn't move. He was living granite.
Sumuru laughed evilly again. "Normally I'd let you spend eternity like that... But you're far to pathetic for that. Girls.. Chip him apart." Unable to scream, but somehow able to feel pain to his granite body, Tim-CR was slowly chiseled and hammered into fine dust by the women. Finally, one brought a sledge-hammer down on his head, all that was left of him, cracking it and terminating his brain functions. He was utterly dust in less than another five minutes.
Thelea returned to the holodeck doors. "End Program," she ordered.
Then she keyed the doors open, and walked inside. All that remained of Tim 'Cock Rocket' was, thanks to the lack of holodeck safety protocols, a pile of fine sand-dust. She drew her Movie-Era TOS phaser pistol, appropriated during one of the Cleaners' cross-dimensional forays from a Federation starship, and fired into the pile, vapourizing it. On the way out, she noticed the dried spittle and blood from where she had first whipped him. She lowered the setting and fired at that, burning it up along with some of the paint. Oh well. All that remained of the self-proclaimed 'Master Hax0r' was neutrinos. As it should be.
-- "Let your rapidity be that of the wind, your compactness that of the forest..... Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you strike, fall like a thunderbolt!" -- Sun-Tzu, The Art of War.
Sitting in his hidden base, the bounty
hunter Crayz9000 looked at a computer terminal. ASVS had been under fire
from a troll known as "Cock Rocket" or alternately, "The Choda Master."
He watched the news from the Cleaners; Commander Thelea, Nathan Yates,
and Deimos Anomaly had already ran attacks on CR's house; but Timmy, as
his name was, seemed to possess the same abilities as the original Timmy,
AKA TOWNMNBS: He kept getting resurrected after every assassination attempt.
Gradually, the bounty hunter looked through the reams of posts that
had accumulated overnight. Finally, he came across one that really pissed
him off:
----- Original Message -----
From: "The Choda Master" <thechodamaster@aol.com>
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars
Sent: Sunday, September 17, 2000 6:53 PM
Subject: Re: Is Dirty Sanchez A Horse Fucker???
> >Oh yeah? I still HAVE a girlfriend. Eat my
shit, lamer.
> If you were a real man you wouldn't need a
girlfriend. I can get women to
> give up their snatch without going on dates
or spending money on them, hence women
> are basically useless. This proves I also have
more money than you as well, I
> do not need to spend my money some ungrateful
bitch who is probably a lesbo
> anyway.
With information gleaned from WHOIS.com, the bounty hunter walked out to the garage, where his H-wing starfighter was parked. "R7, initiate the pre-flight sequence. I want to leave in under a minute." As he walked back to his bunkroom to put on his HEV armor suit, he thought about letting his girlfriend come along for the fun, but then realized that it would be just too disgusting. Finally, when he was completely dressed, he walked back out to the H-wing. "R7, everything all right?" The little droid twittered a response, and the bounty hunter hopped into the cockpit. "Good." With a whine, the starfighter's repulsors powered up, the garage door opened quietly, and the ship shot out into the night, in the outskirts of Los Angeles. "All right, R7, we're going to Minnesota. Yes, R7, Minnesota." He promptly plotted a flight plan that took him far away from any military airbases; the last thing he needed was a couple of F-22s on his tail.
Several hours later, the H-wing was skimming the treetops of Minnesota, sensors scanning for the address of this "Choda Master." Finally, the astromech droid twittered. It had found the location. He quietly set the starfighter down in a nearby ball park; at this time of the morning, it wouldn't matter. In the meantime, he hopped out, and opened up the cargo hatch on the H-wing, pulling out several belts of various charges, plus his two DL-44 blaster pistols. Engaging his holo-shroud to look like a tree, he then set out at a run for Choda's house.
Standing outside the lime-painted house, Crayz9000 looked with disgust at the yard. Tall weeds grew everywhere, and kept catching on his armor. Finally, he pulled out his lightsaber, and ignited its dark silvery blade. Five seconds later, he shut it down. Weeds were strewn all over the yard, but now they were laying down. An evil grin crept across his face. He would have use for these weeds later on.
He looked at his wrist chronometer, and swore. It was already three AM local time. Activating the HEV's built-in sensors, he scanned the house for openings. All the windows, strangely enough, were covered in bars. Not that it mattered to him; he could easily slice them off. But that was not what he wanted to do. He found a convenient basement opening, and checked it for alarm sensors. There was one, an older magnetic contact. He used the Force to fuse the wires that ran to it, effectively silencing it. Then he pried the window open. Jumping in, he looked down at the floor, and promptly wished he hadn't done so. It was covered in yellow-colored, smelly liquid. Or at least that's what his helmet sensors told him. He walked around a partition of shelving units, and discovered the main control panel for the alarm system. Summoning the Force again, he hit it with a blast of Dark Side energy, frying the circuits and batteries completely. As he continued through the house, he say plenty of... disgusting things. In one part of the basement sat a computer and printer. He walked over to the printer, and looked at a filing cabinet below it. Inside were printed-out pictures of kiddie porn. The bounty hunter turned away in disgust, and shut the cabinet quickly. But before he moved on, he booted the computer, setting the AOL client to automatically send messages to all newsgroups, plus all the people in CR's address book. He shut down the computer, then opened the case. It was an older computer, and had plenty of room inside the case. Good, he thought, and detached a mini sequencer charge from his belt, placing it inside the case, and linking it to a timer that would detonate it exactly ten minutes after power-up.
Crayz9000 continued through the house, ignoring all the excrement lying around. Finally, he reached the bedroom where CR was. Loud snores were coming from it, and the bounty hunter crept forward, holding a remote-control digital recorder with a recording of some Coruscant heavy metal music inside. He turned the volume to maximum, but left it off. Quietly unclipping the headphones from his belt, he placed them over CR's head. The troll stirred, but nothing else, and Crayz9000 breathed a sigh of relief. He then began the next stage of the plan, and pulled out a spool of fishing line. He tied a single strand of line across the room, precisely where CR would bring his head up when he woke up. One end was secured to the wall with a dab of cyanoacrylate; the other ran through a convenient picture hanger and out the door, linked to the power switch of CR's computer. Finally, his job there done, he softly crept out of the bedroom (if you could even call it that). In the living room, a syringe was lying on the table. The bounty hunter checked his sensors, and confirmed that the syringe was filled with liquid cocaine. He picked it up, pulled the plunger out, and dumped the drug out on a convenient marijuana plant. He then pulled out a vial from inside his vest, and filled the syringe from it. That vial was filled with a DNA-specific virus, one that would automatically destroy any DNA matching that of CR. In its initial tests, it had been proven to be quite spectacular- a Federation captain had used it on Timothy Jones in an alternate timeline, with the result of the Mini-Tims (who were immortal) being locked into a continual cycle of destruction and resurrection. All Cray9000 hoped was that it would have the same effect on this Tim.
As the bounty hunter walked through the house, he looked inside the bathroom. The jar of Vaseline caught his attention, and he hurried off to the kitchen, returning with a roll of Saran Wrap. He carefully stretched a sheet across the toilet lid, making sure that there were no tell-tale ripples in it. That job accomplished, he then lightly coated the toilet's rim with the Vaseline. But before he left again, he saw a vibrator lying carelessly on the floor. Not wanting to touch it, he pulled out a tube of Dry-on-Contact Superglue. It would remain moist until it came in contact with something, and so the bounty hunter liberally coated the vibrator with it.
Finally, his job finished, the bounty hunter re-engaged the holo-shroud, this time looking like a Saint Bernard, and walked out of the house. From a safe distance, he used the Force to fill the house with all the weeds he had chopped down. After a minute of the micro-Force storm, weeds were bulging out of most of the house's windows.
Once Crayz9000 reached his H-wing, he powered it up, and moved to a nearby hill, where he jumped out, engaged the starfighter's cloaking device, and pulled out a pair of macrobinoculars linked to the micro cameras strewn throughout Timmy's house. The bounty hunter pulled the remote out of a pocket, pointed it at Tim's house, and slowly pressed the button. From the camera's vantage point in Tim's bedroom, he smirked as Tim almost flew out of bed, grasping at the headphones. The fishing wire tripped, turning on the computer downstairs. But after the troll recollected himself, he walked down to the bathroom, and sat down on the toilet. What happened next was hilarious, from a certain point of view: Tim slipped as he sat down, and shit went flying everywhere. After five minutes of frantically trying to figure out what was wrong with the toilet, Tim finally peeled off the plastic wrap. Once he was finished, he walked over to the living room, injected himself with the cocaine (or so he thought), walked back to the bathroom, grabbed an issue of Playgirl and his vibrator, then proceeded to shove the vibrator up his ass. After several minutes of disgustingly oohing and aahing, he tried to pull it out. It wouldn't budge. He got up, and ran, screaming, into the basement. As he approached the computer, the hidden sequencer charge blew, obliterating Timmy and most of the basement. The house shook from the powerful explosion, and gradually collapsed in on itself. But eventually a bruised and bloodied figure climbed out of the wreckage, something that no normal man should be able to do. Within minutes, several police pulled into the neighborhood, and began questioning the damaged Timmy.
After watching the scene for a minute, Crayz9000 saw a police helicopter approaching. Even though it was over a mile away, he was still slightly apprehensive. Reaching inside his vest, he pulled out another remote, flicked off the safeties, and pushed the center button. "Hasta la vista, Timmy!" Two miles away, the leading police officer staggered back as Tim exploded in his face. Two other officers walked forward to help him, utterly astonished as they saw Timmy re-appear, only to be destroyed yet again. For a full ten minutes, they watched the strange occurrence, until finally a local news van drove up. Crayz9000 finally figured that he had watched enough, and got back into the still-cloaked H-wing, taking back off toward Los Angeles, his mission accomplished.
--
http://crayz9000.port5.com
Remove the ców when replying by E-mail.
To turn it on, you hit the power switch.
What power switch?
Subject: Re: ASVS IS FULL OF PUSSIES
Date: Sun, 17 Sep 2000 20:08:46 GMT
From: Deimos Anomaly <samuel@jamieson-03.freeserve.co.uk>
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars
URRGH! I AM SO PISSED OFF!!! Why don't you just drop dead?
This calls for a 'fic!
"Tap, tap-tap-tap, tap-tap, tap tap tappety tap tap." Cock Rocket's sticky fingers were typing away at his well stained keyboard.
"Thanks people, for being pussies and not keeping on usenet. Proof I beat your ass. Now the phone company wanted to know what was up, after I asked them a few questions.... I had to tell them what was going on, so the called the police. Sorry guys, but someone here is going to jail"
He put his sweaty palm on the mouse and clicked "Send". Then cakling evily he shut down the child-porn stuffed PC and went to his obscene bed to dream sweet dreams of trolling the usenet.
Meanwhile, in the darkness outside CR's filthy hovel a stealthy dark figure crept slowly forward withoud a sound, heightened off-world senses alert in the night. V'Lok Tel, secret agent of a government from another time and planet, he moved to the back and approached the back door. Getting in would be easy. The troll had absolutely no security whatsoever, confident that no-one really knew who he was. V'lok, known to most of his paymasters only as Deimos Anomaly, tried the door. Locked. Drawing a Glock 17 9mm pistol from an inside pocket of his black leather jacket, he screwed on a silencer, and leveled the weapon. There was no deafening concussion, only a loud spit, and the lock fell shattred from the door. In an instant the gun was back in his pocket, to be replaced by another, which looked like a carbon copy of the first. But this was utterly unlike any weapon currently known on the earth. An energy weapon known as a disruptor, he set it to "stun", and kicked the door open with a loud crash that set the neighborhood dogs barking. Ignoring the stench of rotten food and urine, he bounded up the rickety stairs and into the bedroom, where the troll had jerked awake at the door crash. CR screamed in terror at the armed balaclavad figure, and tried to escape. But he was immedietly shot with the disruptor and stunned into unconciousness. V'lok grapped the troll and dragged him downstairs by his hair. As he passed a downstairs room on his way out he saw a PC. Beside it was a printer surrounded by disgusting print-out pictures of naked children. Charging out, when he got to the road, he turned around, jacked the 'ruptor to full power, and vaped the whole stinking house.
Deimos turfed Cock Rocket unceremoniously over the back seat of a Harley waiting in the street, clamping him on with handcuffs. Then, he climbed on himself, and roared off into the night.
_Romulus Base, Argentina_
The private jet touched down on the concealed runway and taxid to a halt. The still balaclavad figure of Deimos jumped out with an unconcious figure over his shoulder, and hurried into the depths of the base.
Cock Rocket slowly awoke... and suddenly became aware that he was no longer at home. He remembered waking up with some kind of masked terrorist in his room, turning to jump out the window... But nothing more. Suddenly he was bolt awake, staring around him. He was tied to a steelwork support pillar in some kind of large hangar-like structure. He was just beginning to panic when he heard a voice. "Welcome, Cock rocket. I hope you like my home. I don't feel I'm bosting when I say it's a lot bigger and better than yours. Oh, of course, this is just one small part of it. Theres a whole lot more!" CR was getting more and more terrified as time went on. Who was this crazy fool? The person walked round in front of him. CR stared in fear. The balaclava was off now, revealing a hardened , lined face with glaring black eyes like bottomless pits, and a cruel mouth. Taken together, they showed a cold, cold man who would think nothing of taking the life of another. CR felt pressure starting to build up in his bladder. Suddenly his attention was distracted, as the floor below his feet parted, a sliding trapdoor opening beneath him. He gave a little wimpering scream, and finally, unable to contain himself, the stream of urine flowed out and all over his cheap tracksuit trousers. But he did not fall, he was tied too securely. Looking down he saw what was directly below him and could not believe his eyes. "Sweet Timmyjones!" he swore softly. Deimos spat in disgust. CR just gaped.With the trapdoor open, he could see into a vast cavernos hangar below this one. And directly below him, was what looked like the head and eye of an enourmous penis. "What the hell is this? Your Crazy!!!" He screamed in fear. The crazy man, who still had not told him his name, merely smiled. "What you see below you is a Minuteman Intercontinental ballistic missile. I've had it specially repainted just for you, Cock Rocket. You should feel honored." Deimos flicked on a nearby CCTV monitor showing a side view of the missile, the whole thing done up like a vast titanium male organ. The pathetic troll screamed again, his terrified wails music to Deimos's (formerly pointed) ears. "What the hell are you going to do with me, you crazy fucker?!?!!" Deimos Smiled. "Well, lets just say, since you like the whole "Cock Rocket" thing enough to adopt it as you actual name, your gonna get to live out your greatest fantasy, rocketman!"
Deimos reached to the side and hit a switch. There was a whirring of heavy hydraulic machinery from far below, and the missile was jacked up towards CR. Suddenly the troll saw the 3 foot needle-like comms antenna on the warheads tip. He began to scream and beg, but Deimos was determined and quite ruthless in his treatment of the piece of living filth. The antenna rammed unstoppably up CR's ass, causing an unbelievable amount of pain. Deimos keyed the jacks off. Then, he keyed the main overhead trapdoor open with a loud clunk.
"Well Cock Rocket, I'l have to be going, it's gonna get kinda toasty around here, so if ya don't mind... see ya around." And Deimos walked off to the control room, leaving CR terrified and alone.
_Control Room_
"5 4 3 2 1 Ignition." As the countdown finished, Deimos grabbed a mike and keyed on the PA system in the Hangar. "So long, Puffer" he roared, the last thing Cock Rocket heard above the building roar of the rocket thrust.
The missile sailed out of the base with it's passenger wedged firmly on the top, the Romulan anti-matter warhead inside set to detonate in space.
Moments later, the countdown in the missile reached zero, and in a flash that turned night into day for half the globe, Cock Rocket was gone.
-- Go away. Come back when you grow
up a bit, and stop eating buggers.
---Elim Garak---
Subject: Cock rocket eh? more like cock
puffer.
Date: Thu, 14 Sep 2000 21:27:40 -0400
From: "LT.Hit-Man" <hit_man303@hotmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars
*Walks up to the so-called Cock Rocket
and knocks him/her/it out cold, then after cutting the soles of Cock Rocket's
feet open, stuffing them full of rock salt and then sewing them back up
LT.Hit-Man wakes up the troll and takes a few minutes to enjoy a cruel
chuckle at the waste of space's expense as he/she/it starts screaming*
"I'd start running if I were you." LT.Hit-Man says as he points to a cloth covered cage. He walked over and pulls the cloth off to reveal a pack of hopped-up Gungans foaming at the mouth and stroking massive hard-ons.
Cock Rocket let out a horrified scream and jumped to his feet. Despite the hellish pain he/she/it is in, Cock Rocket starts running, leaving a train of bloody rock salt behind him as the rock salt ground deeper and deeper into his maimed feet every time the hit the deck plates of the SSD _Creeping Death_.
"Five, Four, Three, Two, ONE!" LT.Hit-Man shouts and opens the cage with his trademark smile. The hopped up Gungans saw the running man, the scent of bloody salt exciting them and they chased after the doomed fool with only one thought on their warped minds.
"That's right boy, time for you to ride the rocket!" LT.Hit-Man shouts as Cock Rocket was overtaked by the legion of rabid Gungans who proceeded to gang rape Cock Rocket to death.
LT.Hit-Man looked up at news camera droid that was broadcasting the days events throughout ASVS as Cock Rocket lets out one last wail before his mouth was brutally gang raped by six rabid Gungans at once.
"Aww, how sweet, it's love at first sight," LT.Hit-Man said to the news camera droid. He turned to watch the love story reach its climax.
--
"Death is meaningless
Victory at all costs."
LT.Hit-Man to the Cleaners
Subject: Re: I was content...
Date: Sun, 17 Sep 2000 06:27:39 -0600
From: "Ryan Spickard" <atomikchicken@excite.com>
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars
"Chevron 9" <star.gate@ntlworld.com> wrote in message news:no1x5.4587$6T1.58414@news2-win.server.ntlworld.com...
[snip]
> sayt hat commanda theela
For some reason I got this image of some weird torture scene when I read that.
In a dark cell aboard the Timmy Class Dumbnaught _Troll's Victory_ ...
"So, u have beeen resisant sof ar Theela, bu tu cannot hod ot forevr!" The Troll know as Weyoun slurred out in-between hits off his bong. Weyoun walked slowly around the chair which held the bound and battered Commander Thelea, observing with glee the handiwork of his fellow trolls.
"Now," he said as he leaned down close to Thelea's face, "Say it! Say: hat!"
Thelea looked at Weyoun, fixing on him a *very* angry glare. "What the fuck are you talking about imbecile?!"
"Say hat, btich!!"
"Go to hell," Thelea stated coldly, and to punctuate her point, she spat a nasty wad of phlegm right into Weyoun's face.
"BTICH!!!" Weyoun wailed as he slapped her across the face.
"You know The Cleaners are going to come look for me when I turn up missing...in fact they are probably already on their way right now."
"Tha tdonst mater, thi sship is imune to an yasslt! R bozon feild is to strng fer tem!"
"I can barely understand you, what are you blathering about?!" The combined physical torture and strong bozon fields were beginning to take their toll on her now, she could almost feel her brain starting to decay into stupidity. To make matters worse the trolls were somehow disrupting her force and vampiric powers.
"Hahahha! Prepar anothr bozon serum injecion!" Weyoun began giggling uncontrollably as one of the troll guards brought in more of the serum. "Now we shal discus th locaion of ur secrt rebel hat!" and with that, Weyoun broke into a histerical fit of laughter, joined by his troll henchmen.
"Now, while they are distracted," Thelea thought. She reached out with all the will she could muster, trying to break through the force disruption field just long enough to..."Yes!" she cheered in her mind as she caused Weyoun's bong to slip from his hand and shatter on the floor.
"Ahhhh!! My bong!! My weed!!" Weyoun dropped to his knees and began to cry. "Quikly, fetch on of my bacups! I may b eable to sav some of ths if I hury!" he shouted to his underlings who quickly began to scramble to do his bidding.
Thelea gave a sadistic grin as she felt the disruption field lessen, as she had guessed it was being generated by the trolls themselves--who were now well distracted. She focused again for a few seconds, using the force to boost her strength enough to snap the ropes holding her to the chair. It didn't take long and she was free.
Without pausing Thelea came up behind one of the remaining troll guards, twisting its arm behind its back with enough force to snap it out of joint. The guard didn't even have enough time to scream in pain as his head was smashed into the wall. Thelea grabbed the guard's blaster as the troll slid down lifelessly, leaving a streak of its putrid blood. She stepped forward and leveled her blaster on the still kneeling and sobbing Weyoun, firing a shot into his right shoulder which blew his arm completely off. Two troll guards came rushing into the room, but were quickly dispatched by Thelea's blaster fire.
Weyoun was trying to crawl out of the room, sobbing uncontrollably as Thelea's shadow loomed over him. Thelea aimed the blaster at Weyoun's head with a deliberate slowness, an evil grin covering her face. "Well, I guess it'll be a little while before The Cleaners get here to pick me up." Weyoun stopped and looked up at Thelea, pleading incoherently for his life. "I hope it is enough time...I have a lot of killing to do," she said as her finger began to squeeze the trigger...
--
Ryan Spickard
ICQ#86354736
http://www.users.uswest.net/~spickards