The Evil Navi Lair

"You lead us?!" Macaque hollered at Spectruman, "That's rich! No one can lead the monkey navis! We already are lead by the great monkey king himself."

Tamarin gave a nod. "We have no need for any other leader. He created us, we will follow his every command."

Macaque then went into a whole ramble as she spun on her stool, "Son Goku is the greatest! He will forever be known as the navi who brought all to his knees. His strength knows no bounds. He was born from the net itself and will be the one to destroy it if he wishes." She then took her drink and gave it a slight sip. "We will follow his every command. The monkey king will be our only king!" Her eyes were all lovey dovey at this point, "Son Goku, I shall follow him till my deletion!"

Sneaking into the club, a shadow crawled along the floor, until it formed into a navi. He was either so plain-looking that nobody could describe what he looks like -or he has an ability that prevents identification. "Is there anything to eat around here," he asked, "or am I going to have to starve to death?"

BBW came up to the nondescript figure ((zyborg)) and howled, Would you care for some Nightmare viruses? And, as a gesture of friendship/alliance/some-form-of-icebreaking the lupine navi summoned up a few of the said viruses and quickly chomped down on one and gulped it down.
They're quite the treat. BBW commented.

Taking BBW's offer, he somehow managed to eat a Nightmare virus whole. "Thanks. By the way, my name is Shin Proto... AKA the Proto Bug Viral Navi. Of course, that is only the name that my 'creator' gave me, so I don't hold much stock in it. What's your name?"

"I'll huff and I'll puff an I'll BLOW YOUR DATA TO SMITHEREENS!" BBW bellowed at the viral navi. "Does that answer your question my little friend?" BBW questioned sarcastically.

Pretending to think hard, Shin Proto finally said, in mock stupidity, "Oh! You must be Goldilocks!" Talking normally, he apologized. Looking around, he finally addressed the rest of the people. "How are you," he asked everyone, "and what do you guys go by?" After talking, he picked up another virus and devoured it.

... BBW was silent at the mark of sarcasm and silently sat down next to Kris. So... Has there been any news of 'him' recently? I saw him post once in the forums, but do you have anything to add? BBW asked the female navi.

"...Woah, that is one weird Navi," Michael muttered at the Navi that defied description. Walking over, he said, "Hey, I'm Michael. No, not Michael.EXE, just Michael." Walking through him just for fun, he phased through a couple more walls, then smacked into something, which really shocked him. Looking up, he saw his oak door. "Gotta remember about that," he said to himself, walking into his cozy little hideaway. Dumping his hot chocolate mug into the sink, he plopped himself on the huge canopy bed and promptly went to sleep.

Fenrir's eyes swept to the unsettling ghost-child as he retreated to his cabin, his expression a mix of curiosity and worry. "You're not from in here, are you..." Fenrir mused, knowing full well he was being too quiet to be heard by the child. The navi with the clumsy name and classification posed a question. "Fenrir. Not sure if I have a .EXE behind that anymore. A lot's changed..." He seemed to become mesmerized with the wicked claws on his hand, muttering under his breath. It was just barely audible. "And now there's another stupid kid dealing with stuff that shouldn't even exist."

((Okay, I had to completely rethink what I was going to do here for...certain reasons. PM me if you want to know what I was originally going to do...but make sure you REALLY want to know first. It's rather disturbing.))

"Well, you've had your taste of me. I hope you're happy. Only I can't say you're having too easy a time chewing on that bamboo spike."
Sure enough, two bamboo spikes were protruding out of either side of Gorgus's neck. His entire cloak was damaged beyond use save the hood, which left everything else to stream behind him like a cape, revealing almost all of his mutated body. The skin was intermittedly composed of burned humanlike skin and scales that looked to have once been bug frags. He wore armor that looked like it had at one point been a generic heelnavi outfit, but large portions were now ripped or burned away. The legs were gnarled and muscular and ended in talons. The shoulders were each lined with green spines, but seemed to be emanating a faint mist.

After using what was left of his tail to remove Confine's from his leg, Gorgus hit Confine hard with his clawed arm, knocking her back. A stalk of bamboo shot up behind her, causing her to slam into it. Gorgus produced a stream of flame from his hands, which molded itself into spiked chains, which he used to bind Confine to the bamboo stalk. "You ask if I wanted to be the dominator,"" he growled, "but you don't seem to realize...I've been...'dominating'...the entire time. All you've done is actually make me put up an excuse for effort. Two more bamboo stalks shot out of the ground behind Confine, and a little more flame-made rope rendered her wings useless. A fourth stalk, this one cut off to form a spike, rose at an angle behind her, reaching her from behind and slowly digging into her skin. Meanwhile, the mist hovering over Gorgus's shoulders spread, enveloping him and the trap he had set up.

The virtual night had been thick in the forest of tears that was awash amidst fate's bleak tidings. It wailed like melancholy fanfare for those that had departed unceremoniously at the end of every bad intention.

There was a duster that had been near the portrait of hell and survived; on that sorry duster was a 5 pointed star, branding its bearer as an affiliate of the law but belying the crooked truth. One of its points bore a lead pronounced bullet wound, like a cold reminder that had left its mark.

In that duster was a gaunt, hat bearing silhouette shadow framed near the bar's door frame. He assumed a place at the bar counter's corner, commanding the kind of presence that demanded attention but threatened to suffocate those who gave it.

"...something with alcohol in it."

Somewhere between that dirty fragment of a moment between thunder noise and bar disagreement, a pale jester-face had appeared to the lawman's side. Its attention was keen buts its voice was absent; he was as monotone as his wardrobe, a series of blacks and whites that didn't succeed in contrasting each other. He was the mewless, pawless cat, prone but observing. He was the artist, painting a poem with every unsaid word.

He was a Salesman, but his briefcase was absent. He was selling a death sentence for an unlucky name.

The duster clad Sheriff drank his shot cold, staring straight ahead but attentions gripping The White Jester that had appeared so unannounced.

"Look around you. Those kinds of bastards are too loud. Too lousy. Too keen. Not good for much other than the kind of grunt work I can get off my own men; and hell, all they're good for is ruffling feathers or kissing asses forcefully.

The White Jester waited.

"You make a hell of an assassin, Perriot and I'll tell you why. You don't make a noise; nobody ever hears you coming. You don't talk to no one, so they don't know any damn better.... And you don't answer the questions, because you ain't got no voice to answer them with."

The mime gave only enough acknowledgment to confirm The Sheriff's deductions. His beret tipped head inclined itself in agreement, with a bastard glint highlighting the edge of his hollow eyes. They were like the barrels of a pair of automatics, untelling but intuitively lethal.

"...I'll tell you something, Perriot. About ten minutes ago I had a disagreement with a sorry son of a bitch outside. The kid didn't know; the kid was in the wrong place. The kid didn't have enough bullshit to keep him alive. Funny enough is that he didn't have no argument after the first few rounds, I reckon."

The mime's unkempt silence rang with an empathy; and still the joker waited.

"You don't need to speak. I damn well know the thought crossing your mind. You're wondering... how many bullets I have left. I'll tell you something; I don't give a damn. I don't count no shots, 'cause a bullet in the gut is a bullet in the gut, and lead don't matter much when you're dead... one and the same."

Silence's reddened razor had cut through the fabric of single dialogue; Perriot waited.

"I know I don't have to tell you to shut up, so open your mouth for once, Perriot. ...drink up and listen well," The Sheriff barked callously.

Perriot cocked his head like a sadistically introspective child, ears intent for the recipient of his next morbid delivery.

"...The son-of-a-bitch I want deleted only got 6 shots."

The Postman always rang twice... The Salesman just delivered.

"This one's the best yet! You've really outdone yourself! I'll be trying to get that taste out of my mouth for-!" she started to taunt, but her speech was disrupted by a sudden cough of digital blood. She winceded as she felt the trap booring constantly deeper into her back. "As fun as pain is, I'm not so much for the dying part. You're a little silly though, aren't you?" she grinned, showing her jagged teeth, the pearly white now skewed with dark blood. "Have you really forgotten who I am?" In one quick motion, her wings cut through the rope seamlessly; the rope then fell to the ground, evaporating into particles of red and orange. In another action, she had stepped away from the bamboo, completely unbound. "You can't cage me! I consider myself a very good dominator, and a good captor must know all methods of captivity!"

Confine rose to the sky, creating a trail of orange energy behind her wings as she did. Smiling, down at Gargus, she wiped the remaining blood from her mouth. "You see, I cheat a little bit. I needn't go through the ordinary procedures so carefully mastered by Houdini or other artists. Who has any need for that when they can simply warp through dimensions? Ha ha ha!" She hesitated for a moment, frowning, then returned her old expression. "I have to admit though, I can't do much of anything to stop... this tremendous pain..." she grunted, descending back to the floor a bit sloppily and retracting her wings. The red and orange glow faded gradually, leaving her bleeding, kneeling on the ground with blood leaking from several wounds across her body. Chunks of armor fell loose from her right glove until the chain and gauntlet broke entirely. She clenched the free hand with extreme disatisfaction. "I can't believe that my body... really has such limits. Oh, the pain! I wish it could go on from here, farther and farther! But so long as I am bound to this body... and bound to Ms. Boundout... there's not much any chance of me claiming my ultimate longing."

Coughing a more blood onto the floor in front of her, Confine pushed some hair out of the front of her face; her visor was cracked and her hair was now so disheveled that strands were loose in front, protruding randomly from the helmet. "It was all beautiful..." she whispered, looking up at him with a sort of a sad smile. "Are you going to finish me now then?"

Michael woke up, yawning and stretching as he got out of bed. He played video games for a little wihle, then phased out.

On his way, he saw the whorish Navi he'd remembered lying in a bloody heap on the floor. Chuckling, he walked onwards, phasing through the one that had appeared to have done the damage to the whore. In time, he got to the main area. He saw that dark blue wolf Navi from before, and sat down beside him. While doing that, he accidentally phased through part of the floor, looking pretty funny, half-stuck in the floor. He levitated a few inches, so he appeared to actually be sitting, and looked at Fenrir. He had seemed a bit curious and worrisome when Michael had glimpsed his expression at his phasing though stuff. What did he think of him?

Suddenly the room filled with an army of 300 navis, all shaped like Gingerbreadmen and wielded giant Candy Cane Rods. One of them, who was elegantly dressed in a Robin Hood esque outfit with a rapier at his side stepped forward.
"I, of the Gingerbread Army is executing an executive order given to me by the head of Fantasyland to kill Micheal!" the leading Gingerbreadman decreed. "Now, can anyone tell me where this Micheal is?"
BBW simply pointed towards the spot next to Fenrir.
"Alright men! CHARGE!" Lead Gingerbreadman yelled as they glowed bright for some time and dashed at Micheal with their giant Candy Cane staffs and whacking at him.

((The bright glow indicates change of data. Therefore, they're able to kill Micheal))

<(Michael isn't even made of data, foo'!)>

Michael sighed as the gingerbreadmen passed through him. "You guys don't know what I am, do you. I'm not made of freakin' data," he said, crossing his arms. "I'm a human. You know, flesh, blood, bones, whatever else there is that humans are made of?" he explained. "No matter what data you guys are made of, there's no way for data to kill flesh and blood. I'm sorry. Though, that acts in reverse too, so I can't hurt you."

"Well, it appears that humans aren't allowed here. Bye," Michael said, snapping his fingers again. The hovercraft duffel bags, now somehow full of stuff again, came to him. He sighed gloomily, then walked out the main entrance, into the endless Net.

The black-skinned Navi glanced down at the very subtle puddle of something that coated the rafter beneath his feet. Normally he wouldn't have seen it, but he could feel his power being siphoned off...he was starting to not like this fortress very much. He crouched down, prodded the puddle with one finger, and rubbed some of the substance between his fingers.

Suddenly he leapt up into the air, pulling his knees all the way up to his chest, and fired a not-so-huge blast of dust data down into the puddle. The rafter broke and fell away underneath the power of the burst, sending the thin sheet of ooze and the piece of dark armour he hadn't previously seen falling down...

...down...

...right onto Fujin.

The plat of armour clanked off the head of the visored Navi. He swayed on his feet, dazed at the sudden attack from above, and turned his head upward.

"What the hell was that--?!"

That was all Fujin could get out before the tattooed Navi crashed down on top of him, bearing them both to the floor with a loud thump.

"That's what you get when you don't ask first, punk!" The black-skinned Navi waved his fist randomly, hoping that it was in the direction of the puddle that had been trying to drain off his strength. Then he groaned and let his head drop, rubbing his back.

"You idiot!"

"Bite me..."

"What is this...?" Murkman started, seeing the energy that the Navi was charging with his free pale eye resting in the film above the rafters. "He's detected me... but dodging will be easy enough..." Murkman shifted the film to leave an open hole where the shot impacted, but unfortunately this did not stop it from smashing the rafter beneath him. "Holy smokes... the fool intends to bring the whole place down...!"

Murkman went falling down with the rafter, quickly shifting back into a puddle: after all, he didn't want to be attached to the surface of the rafter when it impacted to the ground. He felt fairly certain nobody would see him in the cloud of smoke and debris that was raining down, so he quickly hopped from the falling wood and back into his armor, which resounded with a clunk upon the head of the Navi called Fujin. It then landed with a clang on the floor. MurkMan knew that he'd have to use this opportunity to let the aggression die down.

"Hmm... though, these two brothers don't seem to be the best of friends... if only there was a way... to have them do my fighting for me... Well, let's see if the old ways work as effectively..." Murkman sent some of his puddle into a gaseous form, the mist drifting behind the heads of both Navis. Suddenly solidifying into two crumbling hands of igneous rock, they grasped the backs of the Navis' heads and slammed the two face first into each other. Just as quickly as they had formed, the igneous rock evaporated and the residue zipped back into the puddle.

Hoping that the tattooed Navi hadn't connected the puddle to the armor in his head yet, MurkMan drew his foul substance inside the armor's casing. With any luck, the tattooed Navi would be on a wild goose chase.

"She had it coming..." The wolf-man murmured under his breath as he sat crosslegged on the stone. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the ghost kid sitting beside him. The kid was pretty much undetectable; he didn't have a smell, his footfalls made no sound, he didn't even push air out of the way when he moved. A small procession of shoddy gingerbread navis charged through him -- what chances they had never seen him before in their short lives. He idly picked one up on the ground between thumb and forefinger, watching it flail about with its useless cane and tiny rapier before tossing it, disinterested, over his shoulder. Might have been the leader or something before his unfortunate encounter with the stone and ironwork wall. That kid had dropped some pretty unsettling hints... And some pretty blunt facts. If he was telling the truth, if he really was some kind of Ghost in the Machine... The thought made Fenrir's hackles rise. A rafter crashed somewhere nearby, heralding an unusual brawl. "No rest here, it seems..." He sighed, rising to his feet. "Might be fun to get involved in one of these fights... Yeah, just get piss drunk, tear someone's throat open..." Another one of the hapless gingerbread soldiers crumbled under his clawed foot. He padded to the bar, keeping a few feet's distance from the pile of muck fighting two more conventional navis. It wasn't his fight.

Kris' eyes narrowed. She didn't know anything about him, and so that was exactly what she would say: Nothing. She had not come here to try to talk about the old days, or to exchange information.

She had come here to feel alive again, and the team of Navis that had just broken in was exactly the thing for this.

Her rifle fell into her deft hands as if it was made for her arms and her arms only, and in fact it was.

Macaque's cheeks became quite red from her intake on the virtual drinks. She then consumed some more. "Being a navi like me, who works for someone like Goku, you have to be strong in order to be used. I am by far the strongest in his ranks. Unlike the other women here, I actually will be useful in a battle. Sure they have alot of showy moves but I have the strength and speed they don't have. I don't need something flashy. I'm better than that. Master will definitely see soon how wondrous my new techniques are."