The Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut

[General Woundwort]

The owner and patrons of the Won Ton are enjoying their cosmic cuisine and comic banter when the faux-Chinese muzak being played over the loudspeakers is rudely interrupted.

“Hey. Hey! What are you doing here?” a disembodied voice crackles over the loudspeaker. “This is a private studio! You must leav… AUUUGH! [THUNK]”

A pregnant silence permeates from the speakers for a few seconds. Suddenly, another song bursts forth from the ceiling. A strangely familiar one.

Right on cue, General Woundwort and Raging Deadstar step through the door, followed by a mass of pinstripe-suited goombahs, torpedoes, and goodfellas, many of them carrying oddly-shaped violin cases. A phalanx of Furio clones follows Woundwort and RD as they walk up to the main counter.

“Greetings, Mr. Huxtable. We are the duly designated representatives of Growltigger Enterprises, the sole owner and titleholder of entertainment establishments on these forums. You have opened a restaurant on Mr. Growltigger’s turf, without prior authorization or contractual agreement. We doubt very much that he will be pleased with this. Therefore, we are here to offer you… an arrangement.”

Woundwort pauses to light a Padron Anniversario cigar, then continues. “You are cordially invited (with full guarantee of amnesty and safe passage, of course) to come to the Forum Chat Bar and Grill, and negotiate a franchise agreement with Mr. Deadstar and myself. If, when Mr. Growltigger returns, we can offer him proof of your good intentions (and a generous cut of the profits), he may be less inclined to cut off your head, set fire to your body, and feed the charred remains to the Pak’ma’ra. I can guarantee you that you’ll find Deadstar and I much easier to deal with than the Boss.”

Woundwort places a data crystal on the counter, which upon later examination is found to contain rather graphic footage of Growltigger’s ‘hostile takeover’ of a prior competitor (rated ‘T’ for Teen).

“Hopefully that will convince you. Consider our offer well, and don’t take too much time in doing so. If the Great Kat comes back and finds you still doing unauthorized business on his turf… the personal consequences would be most… unfortunate.”

“Good day to you. We expect to see you soon.”

Woundwort and RD tip the rims of their fedoras in Rudy’s direction, and depart the Take Out Hut. The hordes of capos follow them out. The Sopranos theme song fades away, and the original disc jockey’s voice is heard again (somewhat less chipper, and in obvious need of some ibuprofen)…

“We now… groan…return you to our regularly scheduled muzak…”

[narf poit chez BOOM]

Ooh, is there going to be a fight? It's been so long since I had someone to play with...

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

After the news flash and the events it described left the patrons (and the structural suppports of the building) more than a little haggard, AZ makes a call on his mitochondrial phone. (get it?)"

"AgentOne, dispatch all agents from Two to Ninety-Thousand Six Hundred And Five to GT Enterprises. And go yourself, too."

Just as he ends the call, Silky DrawZ comes running in. "I've got it! I've got proof! It's -" and is splattered all over the Hut, ruining the Praetorian nicely simmering away on the BBQ, set there to replace the one that got ruined by the splattered bits of the GT Goon Commander (1kT, 1kT resistance, damage 1 due to flying debris, Destroyed After Use).

Moments (though for some of the Xiati it was days) later, several Nultoh strongmen enter the establishment and prepare to smash the place up.

(Btw, what's the "O" word?)

[AgentZero]

Jack Smith spots Agent Zero walking towards the door and an expectant grin spreads across his face. Zero enters the Hut, takes three steps and promptly drops to his knees with a piercing cry of agony. Jack giggles girlishly as Zero writhes about in pain. Zero tries desperately to make it to the exit, but his spasming muscles cause him merely to flop around on the floor. Jack's enjoyment of the spectacle is cut short when Agent Zero suddenly stops flopping, rises to his knees and lifts his head to look at Jack. Against all odds, a tortured grin spreads across Agent Zero's face.

"Fool!" he gasps as his eyes begin glowing a hellish red. "Have you any comprehension of what you have done?!"

Before he can reply, Jack is engulfed by a black cloud of demons, these ones fully coporeal and not as easily dismissed as their ethereal breathren. Simultaneously, a horde of sword-wielding angels decend upon the patrons of the Hut and begin liberally administering decapitations, eviscerations and amputations. In the midst of all this horrific carnage, Agent Zero suddenly jumps to his feet, strolls casually over to the bar and asks a cowering Hank for a pint of water.

"Don't worry, Hank, they won't hurt you, the bringer of beer. I've got things totally under control."
"B-b-but I thought Jack's pocket-universe-inflicted-hangover caused you to lose control of the Legions."
"Pffft! Pocket universe. You really think that would have any effect on me? I am an instrument of the divine, and everyone knows that the theoretical has no effect on the theological."

With that, Agent Zero snaps his fingers and the demons and angels suddenly vanish, leaving bits and pieces of patrons scattered all over the floor. And, left standing in the middle of the floor is Jack Smith, or what's left of him. The demons have done a thorougly excellent job in flaying him, managing to remove every scrap of skin and flesh while leaving all veins, arteries and internal organs completely intact.

"Wow," exclaims Hank. "That's impressive.
"Indeed," Agent Zero agrees. "And agonizingly painful. Of course, he can't scream, for he has no larynx, and he can't move for he has no muscle tissue left, but rest assured, he is experiencing the most horrific pain imagineable."

Then, in a moment of extremely rare compassion, Agent Zero takes a Coporeal Regenerator out of his pocket and sticks it to Jack's forhead. It will take several hours to completely replace his body, by which time Agent Zero will be back in the Forum Bar & Grill, snuggled up with his Angel of Death.

"Now then," he addresses Jack, who has just regrown ears. "Let this be a lesson to you. When someone controls the Legions of Heaven and Hell, you really shouldn't call them a sot."

[douglas]

Agent Zero's triumph is rather short-lived, as he is forcibly reminded of the incredibly fast reaction time of the AI known as Petey when the entire force teraports back in after a brief absence that lasted just long enough for the blast to dissipate. Several of the terapedoes reappear inside the dragon's stomach and promptly explode before the harsh environment has a chance to damage them. The fragmented pieces of the dragon are quickly reduced to an expanding cloud of monatomic dust when the fleet opens fire with a few of the main guns.

[RudyHuxtable]

NullAshton, any assistance provided in the security of the Hut leads to further freebies and incentives, so go on and park those bad boys near the front door and come on in for soup!

Evil-doers, I poop on you!

[NullAshton]

I can't do long-range support much, mainly because of the lack of combat sensors... But, close-range, it kills you easily.

*parks a fleet of 6 B-Destroyer IIIs around the hut*

[NullAshton]

I'll bring some B-Destroyer IV's soon, with combat sensors, ECMs, and multiplex tracking.

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

Erm... Jack. Your bubble universe has long been demolished.

[NullAshton]

Petey saved the hut! Yay!