Setting:InfiniCon/Lore

A page for any sort of lore or stories for the InfiniCon setting. Fill 'er up! I will also be posting stuff from the thread itself. If you are a namefag, I'll credit you. If you add it yourself, credit yourself. You deserve it, you awesome tripfagging writefag, you.

Remember, as a writefag, you are making the lore. Take into account previous stories and what has been mentioned prior. The story and lore will likely shape around encounters and accounts you create.

Encounters/Accounts

This section is for any sort of encounter or events you happen upon in the vast world of InfiniCon.

Ghost

Anonymous

My name's Peter. Kinda awkward considering what I do. I'm a photographer. I work for the only official city newspaper in Infinity City, and let me tell you, I have seen some serious shit.

I've always had this knack for being in the right place at the right to snap a picture of an awesome mock duel by Jedi-Sith cosplayers, or a massive parade of the Spartans, or a chick with a particularly cute... yeah I tend to keep those pictures to myself.

But all rumours and gossip aside, I'm probably one of the few people who *know* that there is actually something... magical about Infinity City. Like I've said before, I've always had this knack for getting those shots that no one else can. And for the first time in my life, I can actually claim that to be a total truth.

It was a Friday night sometime about two years back when I first realized it. Cons are always going on in I.C., but that night was the premier of a brand new anime produced and written purely by Infinity City citizens about Infinity City. According to the critics it was supposed to be a massive overcharacterization of a group of people who suddenly developed super powers. I remember catching the first episode when it went got picked up by national television, it was almost painfully funny like that Big Bang show. The parody was almost too much for my tastes.

I was roaming the theatre floor, snapping shots of the cosplayers hired to dress as the characters from the anime. The night went alright and I got a lot of good stuff to send in for the morning paper. I even got some great shots of the lead producer and the head storyboard editor. When they learned who I was, they invited me to take a tour of their studio next week which I gladly accepted. It was the first complete anime studio to ever be built in Infinity City, a 'scoop' that I couldn't resist.

I left the premier that night and got a late night snack at The Apron. It's this Infinty City take on the French sidewalk cafe, except all the wait staff are 10's. But that's only part of the reason I go there. Their coffee cake is the best I have ever tasted and their prime seating is on a terrace that overlooks the very heart of the city. It's called Infinity Plaza, clearly the most inspired of names, right? Despite the city's naming conventions they clearly got everything right when they designed this work of art. The entire thing is over 100,000 square feet of open space. Lights set into the sandstone walkways throw up a majestic glow and dozens of fountains add to the regal feeling the place inspires.

Most of the time I just come here to sit and watch the people pass by. I'm not a fan in the slightest of some of the people who live here, but most of them are all right. And things definitely changed for the better when they instituted a formal dress code, some infractions are actually punishable by permab&s, which I laughed at. One of my co-workers maintains a blog that features a daily Worst Dressed. Some of the fashion faux pas she finds are now famous in the web.

Tonight felt different. I had that buzz in my feet, the itch where I've gotta get out and walk. The kind of feeling where I know that I'm not gonna go to sleep before dawn. I hate these nights, especially because it means that my boss has to officially write me a warning but he's mostly cool with it because he knows that I.C. sleeps less than New York City and I do my best work at night. I had an entire set of night shots that got featured on F-Stop.com, and that set came from a night exactly like this one.

So I set about the process I call 'walking,' I know another inspired name. I didn't care where I went, and I snapped every shot that inspired any tiny feeling inside of me, including the hatred I harbor for weeaboos. But hey, different strokes I guess. That's the other cool thing about being a photographer. 99% of people don't mess with you at all. In fact, most of them just wanna see the picture themselves. It's this self-vindication thing I think. People wanna know they look good doing what they love.

After about three hours of solid walking, I found myself on the top of this apartment complex called Broken Wings, probably named after some horrible animu I'd never heard of. I was in the lobby snapping shots of some cosplayers and then just kinda found my way up there. I have no clue how.

So I'm standing there thinking how awesome the view was when I saw this chick in a weird lolita dress flying through the air. I snapped the Camera up so fast to take the shot that I whacked my cheekbone against the casing. It looked like she was chasing... something, I couldn't tell what it was, it was moving too fast for me to follow. All of a sudden, I found myself running across the rooftop of another building, camera still trained on the girl and the thing as they ran from rooftop to rooftop. I was too caught up in capturing the whole thing that I had no clue where I was going or where I was.

The two of them stopped on a rooftop and I saw them clashing. The lolita girl was wielding some sort of staff that would elongate and retract. The thing she was fighting I realized was a guy in strange rags. As I snapped pics I realized that under all the rags and torn outer clothing he was wearing protective body armor and carried a serrated combat knife. The two didn't even seem to notice I was there.

There was a lot of shouting, mostly the girl wanting the rag-man to give back something he apparently stole, to which he never replied, just kept trying to stab her. Eventually, he got through her guard and jammed the knife deep into her sternum. The girl collapsed and he bolted for the edge of the roof, leaped off and disappeared from sight.

I was pretty fucking shocked. I've always heard about people getting killed in Infinity City over pretty stupid shit, but this was pretty hardcore. I was so dumbstruck that I walked out from behind the vent I had been sniping pics from and just sorta half-walked, half-stumbled over to her. She looked up at me and laughed this weird laugh. She said she knew who I was, she'd seen my picture in the newspaper attached to some of my work. She said I was an urban legend in the city, this ghost who appeared and disappeared, who captured the most amazing pictures of the people, all of the people, of Infinity City. I didn't play favorites or bash people, I was a good man who understood that everyone had a purpose and a worth.

And then she died.

Or at least I think she did. She kinda stopped talking and her eyes went blank. I've never seen a dead person, but I guess that's what it looks like. It was fucking creepy. I don't know how long I stood there, but the next minute I wasn't. I was standing back on the rooftop of Broken Wings looking down at a picture of her dead body on my viewscreen.

I punched a wall so hard I think I broke a knuckle or two. I cried for a little while. The things she said about me kept bouncing around my head, her voice just wouldn't shut the fuck up. My whole life, ever since I was 5, I'd always wanted to be a photographer. I'd never been real important, sure I'd gotten noticed by a few people who realized that I had what they called a "talent," a "gift," but at least to myself I had always just been some dude with a camera. My dad once told me that humility was the greatest quality any human being can have. I watched a kung-fu movie one time about a guy who was able to defeat opponents just because he was so nice and humble. And now I was apparently some fucking legend, and I had found this out from a girl that I watched die in front of me. Or maybe not, I have no clue.

I never saw that girl again, at least not physically or from any other news source. It's like she never really existed. I still have the photos. Once a year I pull them out and look at them. I don't know why I do it, I can't even tell you the date, I just do it instinctively.

I don't sleep much anymore. I saw a doctor a few months back, he said I must've developed insomnia as a response to some sort of stress, probably from working too much. I almost cried when he said it, but I laughed and made the appropriate jokes about sleeping when you're dead. He said I could seek some sort of medication or therapy that might cure the insomnia, and I'd said that I would have to think about it.

To tell the truth, I kind of like it. Insomnia has a few benefits, the most prominent one is all of the Walking that I get to do now. Whenever I go out, especially at night, it's like I have this selective invisibility cloak. I can disappear in plain sight until I interact with people. And there's this sort of weird teleportation thing that happens. I can just suddenly be somewhere. I can get into a lot of cool places with my newfound powers. My boss is ecstatic. He's added an entire section to the newspaper to showcase my work. But there are some photos I just can't show him. Stuff that the public can't know about. There's a certain side to Infinity City, a side where your worst nightmares are real. A place where heroes actually fight for all things good. It's a strange place and I, like the fly on the wall, can only watch and record what goes on. Maybe one day I'll publish all the shit that I've collected.

Then again, maybe I won't. Ever since that one incident, I haven't had anymore chase sequences. Maybe I will one day, but I sincerely hope that I don't. I've decided that I like life too much to watch someone get hurt over anything. It's actually kind of painful to watch anyone die now, even if it's a movie or in a book. I go back to that night and see that girl, such a pretty girl. Prime of her life, whole world of possibilities, and it was all taken away from her. And for what? I've asked myself that so many times. I've tried to find the rag-man who killed her, but that's never gone anywhere. He's disappeared just like that girl. Then again, Infinity City is pretty large.

I have a friend who directs some of the mock combat shows that go on in I.C. and I've been doing some practice of my own with a knife. One of these nights I'm gonna find that bastard, and when I do...

Untitled Account 1

Anonymous

The "Undercon" as it is now called was once just a set of service tunnels that the staff used to travel between different parts of the city without the traffic. But as the furries and other outcasts were driven to the darker corners of the con, they began to claim the tunnels as their own. The only thing capable of guaranteeing a safe passage through the tunnels is a staff shirt, as it is respected by all who call the tunnels home.

Of course, you don't have that glorious shirt, do you? You'll have to deal with the furries, who just want to yiff with you, or those driven Con-Mad, little more than snarling husks of men, who have gone feral, attacking anything that enters their turf, yet strangely they ignore their own. Then there are the Collectors, who want their waifus and husbandos, if you match what they want, then you will be treated well for as long as you last, if not, well, the less said the better.

If you are willing to brave those horrors, then you might just find The Market, the ultimate in dealer's rooms. While the Upper Con has a selection to boggle the mind, the Undercon's Market deals in the exotic, and the forbidden. Drugs, real weapons, the Star Wars Christmas Special(banned in 7 countries as a war crime), all can be found if the price is right. Though never tell a soul where you got these goodies, as while the market loves business, it hates attention from the con staff.

When I first moved into Infinity City, I knew things would never be the same. How could it be? In "The Real World", as I call it now, I was a single, barely-employed, overweight, lazy neckbeard who spent too much time on the internet. I had managed to save up enough money to actually go to Infinicon with some friends and, somehow, I landed a job at this toy outlet moving boxes from the trucks to the warehouse. Not an amazing job, mind you, but the crappy jobs got subsidized housing for dirt cheap, because we were so far away from the actual convention. Just another job, in the outskirts of another busy city, right? Well, I took up running to try and get in better shape. Something about the energy of the city made me want to move, I guess. Next thing I knew, I was jogging to the Anime district every night after work and jogging back home. Every day I'd get a little faster, so I'd have more time to spend looking at the shops and talking to con-goers. That's how I met Jayce.

Well, Jayce called himself a "businessman". t first, he seemed like one of those older Anime fans, with a job and responsibility and all that. I thought he was just a tourist at first, but, night after night, I would meet him at the same corner pub, and we'd talk. So, one night, he says to me, "I know you have a job, but would you like a better one? One that's closer to the daily action here?" Of course I did. I didn't mind the thirty-minute jog so much anymore, but I'd grown bored of the work I did (I guess the Con had spoiled me: brown boxes every day, boring people, tedious work, I wanted color and excitement!). He asked me to be a "Runner".

See, there were some things that people wanted that weren't exactly legal in Infinity City: Fireworks, some drugs, hard pornography, guns... and some weirder stuff I never asked about. An easy way to get caught with it was to deliver it above ground, walking or driving through a security checkpoint. The easiest way to not get caught was to run it through the Undercon. Now, I had heard some rumors about the Undercon being full of Infinity City's rejects, but I hadn't thought it was as bad as it really is, so I accepted. I got set up in my new apartment (overlooking Anime Square, no less!) and got settled in. The next night, Jayce shows up at my door with a box. He tells me to head to the alley behind our usual pub and open it.

Behind the pub, I opened the package. Inside was an odd-looking key and a note. The note told me to... well, I won't say where, because that would lose me my job. Let's just say that there are more entrances to the sewers than you'd think. The Undercon is a whole different place. Groups of furries (not the benign ones on the surface, either. These are the ones with flaps to stick their junk through and the sort), post-apocalyptic LARPers, crazies, homeless, and those who just... lost track of reality after being absorbed into the world of Infinicon... All these lived here. The Furries are MOSTLY harmless, but if there is a large enough group, they can jump you. The post-apoc guys are dangerous, and they want your stuff. Apparently, they have guns looted off of other, fallen Runners and smuggled in themselves. The crazies are all different, but mostly dangerous. You can usually hear them coming. The Homeless are probably the most sane. Once, I even ran into a guy who had set up a tiny apartment down there. He let me crash there after a few exhausting trips. Nice person.

That's about all I have to say about the Undercon. I know my story isn't especially interesting or insightful. I just felt I had to say it. I don;t especially LIKE my job, but I couldn't make a living in this city any other way, so I'm stuck with it. Infinity City is a drug, and those who taste it will do ANYTHING to get more. Stay out of the sewers, kids.

So, I guess I'm not gone yet. I'll detail a few of the more interesting things I've run across/picked up in the sewers.

• An all-Sailor Moon-themed rave/orgy.
• A large pile of melted pocky sticks. No packaging nearby.
• A gold and sapphire ring with the word "Eternity" engraved on the inside.
• A lost partygoer, dressed as a Cylon, holding a mostly empty bottle of Captain Morgan. I helped him get out before he got in trouble.
• A loaded AK-47. Gave it to Jayce, he paid me for it.
• A makeshift cannon, with an empty can of propellant (I think, label was rusted) and several busted-up walls and a large bloodstain on the ground.
• A corridor lined with unopened Pringles cans. I don't even.
• A theater's fly system, set up in a large chamber. Possibly, there used to be a stage here. No idea who built it or for why. Ropes were mostly rotted.
• A room lined with pictures of the same girl, obviously taken without her knowledge. Never found out who she was.
• What looked to be blueprints for a fully-functioning Pokeball. Smelled like vodka.
• A dead Bonsai tree with a tag tied to it that simply had the word "lol" written in pen on it.
• A room with several unfinished costumes, sized for different people. I think one was supposed to be Haruhi from The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya.
• A server stack, abandoned. Jayce paid me for the location of it.
• Arrows painted on the ground, leading to a large hole. No obvious way out, so I didn't go down.
• A... very hefty woman, stark naked, masturbating against a wall. She looked me in the eyes as she finished, then got up and walked away. (Like a boss)
• A flower garden, well-tended to, by a woman dressed as Aeris from Final Fantasy 7. Admired her dedication to the role, went to dinner, she never called back. Bad kisser.
• A working HDTV, 56 inches. Kept it.
• Three copies of NFL Blitz for the N64, in a stack. Cleaned them up and sold them to a pawn shop for a buck each.
• A stack of signs that said "Free WiFi". Probably stolen from various cafes.
• An area that looked to be some kind of village or something. Nothing much of value. Bullet holes everywhere.
• A filled body bag. On closer inspection, it was filled with Philadelphia Cream Cheese boxes.
• A trail of some blue fluid that stopped after half a mile. was gone the next day, stain included.
• And old refrigerator with a smaller one inside, and a smaller one inside that, and a note inside that one that read "Fridgeception"
• A human skull, probably from a teenager.
• A stereo that played "The Phantom of the Opera" nonstop at full volume until I found it and smashed the thing.
• A box, wrapped like a gaudy present. Inside was a note with the words "Insert awesome gift here."
• Front half of a two-man horse costume.
• A man dressed as Gordon Freeman who followed me around for half an hour. Never spoke.
• A piece of paper with a Canadian and American quarter on it. On the paper was written "Interracial Love."
• A pile of Naruto-style headbands. The Leaf symbol was backwards.
• Several hundred mousetraps, all unarmed save one (Guess which I stepped on).
• Four guys on a couch, watching hentai and sipping beer. They muttered a noncommittal "Hey man" as I passed.
• A very attractive girl, passed out, with a very unattractive boner poking out of her skirt. I covered her with my jacket. Wasn't that cold anyways.
• A pair of pants. Pockets were filled with spaghetti. Probably a reference, could be an amazing pick-up tactic.
• Four people, dressed in Wizard of Oz garb, skipping, singing "Follow the Yellow Brick Road."
• A swordfight between two armored knights, using pool noodles. Alcohol was probably involved.
• A cave made of cinderblocks. Abandoned sleeping bag inside.

That's about all I've got for now. If anyone has any questions, either about the City, the Con, the Districts, or the Undercon, I'd be happy to answer them.

Q:Did you have any particularly crazy encounters with furries or any other crazies in the Undercon?

A:Well, not as many as you'd think. The Furries aren't interested in anything that doesn't sexually excite them and the only things that do that have pointy ears and/or tails. I tend to do my business in a large coat and slacks, so I'm not really "their type" Now, I have been caught twice anyways. Once because I was careless and thought they'd NEVER be interested, and another time because it was a trap. First time: Delivering a small package to the Video Game District, saw a small pack of furries ahead. They shrank away, so I kept advancing. Suddenly, from behind, three pairs of arms snake around me and hold me in place as their "Alpha Female" comes around to look at me. Now, don't get me wrong, this girl was probably smoking hot at one point. If she took a shower and maybe brushed her teeth, I'd still consider it. HOWEVER. She was dressed in this greenish wolf getup, with her tits hanging out of holes in the front. She got really close and asked if I'd like to "Mate with her". That was the point where I'd had enough and used the only part of me they'd left free, my head. I drove my skull into her face, then struggled to break loose, which worked somehow in the confusion. I grabbed my delivery and ran for it. I was in MUCH better shape than them, so I eventually lost them. Still had to walk above ground for a mile or so before I could risk going under again. I still see that pack occasionally, but they leave me alone now.

The second time... well, some groups have "initiates". People who still operate on the surface, but descend into depravity at night with the UnderFurries. I met one at a club one night on my day off, and, being a little drunk, agreed to go back to her place. She claimed she "Knew a shortcut" through the sewers, This seemed like an okay idea to me at the time, because, hey, shorter distance = sooner I'd be getting laid. Anyways, I'm still a little fuzzy on what happened next, but I remember someone taking my shirt off and licking me. It was about then that I realized that I smelled an unwashed man, and, lo and behold, they had stuck a cat-ear headband on me and some neckbeard was undoing my pants with his teeth. I got the fuck out of there. They didn't stop me from going, thankfully. Saw the girl again a few nights later. Called in a favor from Jayce to get her deported from the city on false charges (her real crimes were worse, but would call attention to the sewers, and Jayce didn't want that).

How did I get myself into this? pt1

You know, I used to like cons when I was younger. I used to love meeting people like me, having fun, going on adventures like in the games and TV I watched all the time. And then I grew up. I went to school, got laid, got my degree and got a job. Turns out, that job lead me here to the city. They say this place has a certain kind of “magic.” I don’t believe any of that shit about all the weebs shooting laser beams and shit, but I do think this place has soul. This place is always running, always has something going on. You’d think most of the time the shit that goes on here would be all the fan service bullshit right? Well, let me tell you about my new job.

When I graduated from college I had myself a business degree, connections, and a closet full of Gucci suits. Don’t ask how I got the money for em’ I ain’t gonna tell, just know I had to work real hard to look this good. Anyway, my degree was in marketing so I applied for the first job I could find that was like that show I used to watch. What was it called? Madmen, that’s it. Madmen. I wanted to be a drinking, chain smoking, womanizing son of a bitch in the real world of business. I applied for a few jobs, most of em’ I got thrown to the wolves, but this one guy, Steve, the fella looked kinda like Buddy Holly, he gave me the chance for an interview. When I went to the place he gave me directions to it was an old run down 4 story building with paint chipping off the walls and graffiti painted over all the paint that decided to stay. Steve greeted me with a happy hello and lead me to an office on the 3rd floor. I waited in the hallway for about an hour before Steve came back out and showed me in. I was greeted by a panel of 3 men, all in cheap suits, rocking pompadours, and smoking the biggest cigars I've ever seen. They were whispering to each other, mumbling, groaning, coughing. Steve stood at attention every now and then giving me a glance through his horn-rimmed glasses. The men finally looked at me. The middle one cleared his throat and began to speak.

“It has come to our attention that you are seeking employment. We may happen to be the only offer you get and if that’s the case, we really can give you whatever we think feels right. We’re going to give you the job that you have always dreamed about. Your life will always be on the line, the pay will be shit, but you will be dealing with all of your favorite substances in large amounts, rubbing shoulders with the rich, and you’ll get to wear those nice suits we have heard so much about.” I nodded without missing a beat. I knew if I showed any sort of hesitation I’d probably be killed at this point. I knew for a fact Steve was armed with the way his suit lumped at his breast, and who knows what the three of them had hidden in their rolls of fat. He continued, “You will be managing the transportation of our fine products into and out of one area of one place. Easy. This consists of mostly of petty things such as cigarettes and booze to things none of us in this room would even touch. Anyway, this shit is held up in a few safe houses and back rooms of reputable shops in the area. The security is kinda high, but between some of the alternate routes you can take and how many officers we have paid off you should be fine. Oh, and the city is one big convention, have fun, don’t fuck us over, and anything the slave waifus say is a lie. Steve can tell you the rest.” And then they went back to unintelligible squabbling.

A Security-Man's Account

Anonymous

Yeah, it's not exactly what I imagined myself doing when I signed up for the State Police. This place started this thing about the same time I entered the force. At first, the Station was just a little security post where a couple of officers would come down when they were holding a convention, but then it just started... growing. People started building houses, then larger buildings and now we've got this place. And of course, once it became a proper community, the state demanded that law enforcement be put into place. Of course, no one really knows HOW city government gets done around here; there's certainly no InfiniCon PD, but the locals kinda police themselves a bit. Still, you've got to have some form of law and order so the state started to build a permanent police station here; apparently it was just going to be some pre-fabs but whoever's running the show around here gave an anonymous donation, so we've got a proper precinct. I like it, kinda mix between some space age nonsense and noir. Certainly looks the part.

Of course, just like any metropolitan centre, Infinicon has its problems, especially when it's populated with people who have a certain kind of brain damage. We get assaults, thefts, murders, prohibited substances, rapes; they may dress up like a bunch of characters, but they're human. At least most are. But there are some unique challenges; replica weapons are everywhere, so you're always looking, checking for details, a tell-tale flex or seam. Then there are the fights that break out every night or so; over the stupidest things. One night, there was a really bad riot, three dead, forty wounded included one of my officers and that's just what we found. Turns out it was because the ending of some show didn't have the right relationships or something. We're a bit better at this stuff now; we got a taskforce set up to look at trends amongst shippers, upcoming releases and season ends and they keep us pretty well informed so we can expect trouble. Most of the time, at least. Also, piracy. RIAA comes here so much, they've set up a permanent office and we've got a room for an FBI taskforce. Problem is, EVERYONE seems to be in on it; we pretty much have to provide protection for anyone serving subpoenas for copyright infringement and it seems every time we do, all we find are a room with some scuff marks on the floor and Ethernet cables all over the place. Drives the Feds and the Suits crazy.

The officers here are all a bunch of good guys and girls. We've got a hundred and forty police officers, which is a bit small for an urban area this size, but we do what we can. We've got the usual departments; traffic, homicide, narcotics, vice and let me tell you, those guys see some shit, I can tell you, and your usual array of beat officers. We've also got a SWAT team and the officers here are all trained in crowd control. They don't get called out all that often, but there have been times when some kid goes even more crazy then usual, like the one time a bunch of those Emperor worshipping nutters took a cafe hostage, demanding the head of this Brit before they let the hostages go. That incident actually got a lot of attention for a while about how InfiniCon was out of control, but it died away pretty quickly. Too quickly, if you ask me, but that's beside the point.

Most of the staff are here on rotation; two years in. Can't blame, 'em really, not a lot of people volunteer for this district. Of course, you get some guys who go local or want to be here because of the 'Con. Most of the time, they're alright, but some guys around here keep their eyes out on them. Can't blame them, not after that time we got a gunfight in the lobby between one of the detectives and this local in a green jacket. The officer chased the guy right out of there. Still chasing him I hear from reports. There is a danger of going native, though, I suppose. Something about this place can get into your head at times, and people react differently to that. Some start drinking or watching sports really excessively, others pick up little habits; smoking, an odd accessory, but a few do go other the edge. There was this one officer, Brooks. Good man, I knew him from a while back, but he kept on picking up odd traits; started wearing body armor all the time, grew a moustache and wore some 80s looking shades. Started getting cited for excessive force, and was being investigated by Internal Affairs for overzealous use of firearms. Eventually, he quit the Force and now cruises around in a tank of all things; seems he got into one of those Japanese cartoons, Dominion, I think.

What my beard? I just thought I'd grow one. It's all in regs. Makes me look a bit more like a hardass to the locals. N-no, I've never heard of Cowboy Bebop. It's good? Maybe I'll check it out when I get rotated out. Nah, I've been here for five years. It's the organisation here, see. It's working too well for me to leave right now. Maybe when I've taught some of the new guys how to run things properly...

The Undercon? Creepy ass place. LA, New York, Vegas all tell stories about how their sewers are the worst; at least theirs aren't packed with gangs psycho dog fuckers who rape anything that's warm or paranoids who think that the bombs dropped a century ago. We don't go down there unless there's a good reason and when we do, we go in force. Seriously, the first time we sent some men to investigate down there, they came back, naked, covered in welts from high-powered paintball guns and tattooed with insults in Klingon. Now anytime we step into that hellhole, it's full tactical and we don't mess about. We've actually had people from the military come and ask about experiences that some of the guys have had down there. Rumour has it that they're sending special forces in there to train or something. Just what we need, something to rile up the crazies even more.

Yeah, it's a pretty odd beat, but someone's got to be here to make sure that there's some sense of law and order around here. Otherwise, God knows what crazy replacement would pop up. Probably trial by trivia or something strange like that.

I Don't Even Bother Learning Their Names Anymore...

Anonymous

The fluorescents flicker overhead. Something smells off in this hall...damp. The AC might be flooded. God, I hope we haven't strayed into Furry Country.

Donnie kneels in front of the door. He works IT for the Mariot...but he's got a wicked pocky habit that keeps him in debt to me. I nod, and he fishes out his sequencer. This place is practically abandoned, no way they're keeping up on keycard protocol. I watch down one way, the Redshirt I've hired looks down the other. I don't even bother learning their names any more.

The door clicks open, and Donnie lets out a little "Hah!" I shush him quickly...it's getting too quiet, but if my contact is right, this room is where the Neonites stash their shipments. And they can't wear those leather coats without that slicked-back hair. We slip inside, and I make sure the door doesn't close all the way...could be an ambush.

Inside the room is...messy. Once this place gets bought out, they're gonna need some major Housecleaning. On one of the soiled beds is a box, and my eyes gleam. I pull a contraband boxcutter outta my boot and open it up. Gatsby. Goldmine. I motion the others to start loading their packs. The Narutards have a dozen badges to some game event next month, and I can turn those around to some guy outside for some quality bolts of fabric...the wheel turns round and round, and I think somehow I can pay off my bill...well...some of it, any way.

"YIFF!" "Yerf? Yerf scritches?"

Oh god, I can hear them outside. Donnie starts crying, and Redshirt and I share a glance. I think he already knows what's gonna happen. We zip up our packs and get ready to make a run.

BAM! The door slams open, propelled by my boot, and I can already smell them. As I leap out into the hall, I see him. Maybe the Alpha, maybe just a Bitch, but all he's wearing are a pair of cat ears and gray briefs that are strained by his erection. I head the other way.

The Red Shirt puffs beside me, and it would be so easy to let Donnie drop behind, but the kid's useful to me. As we round a bend, I shove Red Shirt hard. He bounces off the opposite wall and falls, stunned. We both knew it would end like this.

I don't even bother learning their names any more...

Water Treatment

Anonymous

My name is Alexi Valdergof, my and my friends were contracted to go into the undercon by some person who kept calling himself a "John" even though his nametag said "Mark, Seller of Goods" Crazy Americans... but he wanted something he kept referring to as "1st Ed Shadowrun". Who is this Ed Shadowrun and why is he first? he wouldn't answer any of our questions except that he would pay us a ludicrous amount of dosh and gear for it, which to be honest shut us up quite quickly, we've never been offered both Dosh and gear before so this Ed Shadowrun must be very important.

Now me and my team are experienced in the undercon but this had us worried, we've never been as deep as Water Treatment and Purification Subsector E-5. hell we didnt even know it went that deep but none the less we went in like the fools we were.

At first it was extremely simple the "furries" you guys call them, never came out only could be heard by distant 'yiff yiff yiff" in the background and an occasional Wolf trying to pull one of us down a tunnel, if we would've stopped there, Nikolai and Marc would still be here.

You see they took Nikolai when we first entered the Water Treatment Sector there was at least 20 of them, wolves, cats, and dragons rushing us only sound they made was a constant chorus of "yiff, yiff, yiff" we took many of them down but soon our guns ran out of pellets and we made a dash deeper into the Treatment plant,we were almost free until Nikolai tripped and fell...that was the last time I ever saw Nikolai...the look of pure terror as the horde descended upon him... I'll never forget it

And Marc? well he went insane down there, the deeper you go into the Undercon,the worst it gets...the stuff they post on those walls...that's what drove Marc insane, last I saw of him....he was running down a corridor stripping himself naked demanding to be taken right there by a dragon priestess. He was a good lad, a little young but good. I finally reached the room where Ed was, but there was nobody to be seen...just piles of paraphernalia, I started looking around when I first heard it, a bellow from a conjoined room a yowl of pure lust, and the largest Wolf I ever saw barrels into the room, I'd like to say I slew that foul beast...but no, I panicked I grabbed the nearest stack of paraphernalia and ran out of there hoping "John" would be okay with what I grabbed

after that all I remember was just running, I just ran I couldn't make it to the surface too many furries in the way so I just ran, I ran for gods know how long, but I finally ran into a group of like minded individuals, they saw the look of terror on my face and hear the howls coming from the way I came, and ran the way they came out, and not knowing any better I followed them.

When I exited the undercon I was in the middle of the Anime section, not too far from where I met "John" so despite all my being screaming for food and rest I hobbled over to his shop, our meeting place.

When I entered the store his face paled considerably his upper lip quivered and he said "did you get it?" as I poured out the contents of my rucksack, he dived into it like a pseudodog on a carcass, and with a squeal of joy he grabs this book hugs it tightly to his body and starts blubbering and thanking me...that's when I realized it... I lost two good friends for a god damn book, this wasn't a retrieval mission for a friend like we thought it was, no, it was just for a goddamn book...that was the worst moment of my life, when I traded the life of my two closest friends for a god damn book.

After receiving my pay I went and found my dealer...after that... I don't remember much, just an alcoholic haze.

Another Account

Anonymous

Yeah, I like it here in InfiniCon. My friend and I run a model booth at some of the cons; we sell the usual historical stuff, sci-fi, plamo, Gunpla, some wargame minis here and there. It's actually a bit of a blessing, not having to rent a shop; we just drive into a dealer plaza, set up the van and the booth and we're good to go. Of course, you've got to be careful when things get busy otherwise some of the crustier patrons will try and rob you blind. Once had to run down a guy who was trying to leg it with a large Perfect Grade Wing Zero. He didn't get far and the packaging wasn't even damaged, which is a plus. Lucky for him, the State Police got him before the Imperial Legion could get wind of him. That's one of the downsides, I suppose. You get a few gangs of vigilantes but hey, keeps the shoplifters down!

We share a flat with some other modellers and mecha fans on the hubward edge. It's pretty cramped, but we make enough. We also all pitch in for a kick ass workshop for modelling in one of the rooms. I also run some showings on a projector against this large blank wall near the flat; I tend to show older shows and most people don't pay any attention, but every now and again, we get some kid who's only seen Seed or Eva and he sits down and watches and asks if we can get him some more of the series. And it feels good, to be honest, although once we were almost lynched by a group of the Cape Crusaders for showing 'Japanese filth'. Good thing I had Megas XLR on my drive, or I'd probably be handing from my neck with a Naruto headband stuffed in my mouth.

The Organizer

Original: https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B0IXkbhdOzgqM2tXeEFBWjBTeS1VU3pNVnhNUUg3QQ/edit

PREQUEL

6.00 am, wake up, shower, put on my suit, tie, take my bag, head out the door, sit in my car, drive to work, show my ID to the police and enter. Just another day in the city of colours, and I'm grim and grey as ever.

My friends are jealous every time we go out drinking, they usually introduce me to people with the words: “This is Ian, he works at InfiniCon...” and from there the chances are the conversation will be anything but pleasant. Either people don't know what InfiniCon is – and then I'll have to explain what it is, telling them that I work with managing a city inhabited by people detached from reality. Pretty much like a madhouse. Or if I am unlucky people do know what InfiniCon is – and then I have to explain to them that I can not give them free passes or a personal tour and that I don't know any of InfiniCon's rich and famous people.

I hate my job and I hate the city of colours I work with. I'm one of the guys who stay in the background. They say we are invisible, they say we are the ones who are not supposed to be seen. Our suits don't fit the theme. Naturally.

The thing is, our job isn't something people think about, people don't go and think that for every building in InfiniCon that they need permission from the government, so that is where we step in and get the proper permission. We remain in the background, we do our background checks on our citizens. We watch every move, hidden cameras, we spy and watch the citizens, for every act, we counter act to ensure that the real government don't step in and shut down the whole operation. Some speak of a conspiracy throughout InfiniCon, well... ...We ARE the conspiracy!

And this is our story.

CHAPTER 1

There are several ways to enter InfiniCon, but usually you notice right away. Most of the con is a huge city, so where do I hide? Or actually, where do we hide? The answer isn't really that obvious, you see, for a lot of people working on the convention, we are spread out evenly. Our main base is under ground, we have a few apartments down-town, most of our guys work with the police stations on the city limit.

You see, at one hand, InfiniCon is a city, it is supposed to have a city council, however it don't. InfiniCon has to account for a city and behave like one, however the citizens has never once shown any interest in the politics, the affairs required to maintain a city of that size.

When InfiniCon was build the first time, they prepare the foundation physically, however by the huge immigration from every kind of fandom imaginable, it was surprisingly few people who took into the interest that the city needs management. Sure a few fractions turned up here and there, but they didn't seem to want to take on the management either.

So we were established, the Convention Men. A secret organisation that runs underground and unseen. Our task was simply: Management.

The first issue our group came upon was financial issues. If InfiniCon was to be permanent and self-established, how would our organisation be paid for our work?

Fairly quickly the major convention centre was build along with a few minor convention centres, usually they had only temporary exhibits, people could rent them, it became the front for our secret group, but still secret.

Unfortunately people wouldn't rent the convention centres all the time, so for the rest of the time we organized things in them, giving us another use, we could almost charge whatever we would, and people would still pay. They were desperate. When we hosted them, we could additionally charge a fee for anyone to put up their tables.

As most of the city grew in size and popularity, we slowly phrased out, the convention centres became popular in which to announce new animes, LARP events or films coming out.

Eventually it was asked why we didn't just have taxes. We decided we just preferred to be secret instead. The nerds was happy not to know of our existence so why change that?

That was many years ago, since InfiniCon opened, I'm a fairly new employee compared to that, how the system works is only vaguely known, but fact is that our group don't lose money.

The next point was to hire people who knew stuff about city planning. I had a college degree in city planning of one sort of another, and soon afterwards I was given a job offer. I didn't question it. My job description was fairly simple: Establish contact with the government and ensure permission for a building has been granted. It was a fairly easy job. Most of the time someone would call me and tell me someone was erecting a building in the suburbs, I send out someone in a STAFF shirt and ask a few questions, the STAFF people was our most obvious agents, people trust them. Usually the STAFF t-shirt held enough authority that I could get the information I wanted to relay the construction to the Government.

Most of the time – that is 70% of the time – the people who construct anything in InfiniCon had the senses to make the proper paper work and hire real construction workers. The remainder 25% they still hired proper construction workers, but didn't fill out the paper work. For an ever growing city like InfiniCon, that was still a lot of people.

5% of the people neither had proper construction workers, or didn't fill out the proper paper work. They seem to have the idea that InfiniCon is anarchy. It's not, we can't let them build where they want or how they want. They are my biggest of concerns. I'm supposed to handle it delicately, our group wants to be secret, so how do I stop their working. Usually this is also where the story ends. I call the police, the police throws them out if they can't afford the construction, they crawl back in and they end up in the undercon.

As I arrived at my front desk this Tuesday morning – cloudy sky above – I was immediately notified of such an event. Someone was trying to build a house on their own in the suburban area of the city, they had begun overnight so it had not been noticed before.

“Hey, Susanne, could you call for one of the Staff guys to come up here?” I yelled for the departments secretary. “Sorry Ian, but they are all occupied.” “With what?” “Some fat bitch made a jump for it and made jam.” “Sonnovabitch, suicides are hard to sort out.” “Yeah, but it still means that the staff is all busy scraping off her blood from the street.”

I sighed and grabbed my staff ID card, we were instructed to venture as little as possible into the actual conventions. I found my parking space and drove off, after 15 minutes I located the house.

A young man wearing a gas mask and otherwise military gear was pitching a tent – admittedly it was not technically a structure, but still it was enough.

“Excuse me sir! Convention STAFF. Mind if I ask a few questions in regard to your tent?” “Not at all, be my guest.” “Do you plan to live in it permanently?” “No, just for a week.” “Why?” “I had a bet with a friend of mine if I could live for a week with no electricity. I think I can manage that.” “Okay, thank you. We may come round in a week and check if you are still here!”

Luckily someone had to live somewhere for two weeks before we had to report it to the government, and as much as we knew, people made bets like that all the time, and usually they failed.

Unfortunately due to the morning traffic I had to drive through the city, it was a weird sight, apartments made of bricks, with sheets and colours of all rainbows. And there I was driving my grey sedan with mirrored glass, trying to be as colourless as possible in a world of colours.

I must have not been paying attention because the next moment someone stepped in front of the car. Almost suicidal. I stopped the car, but noted that I didn't hit her, yet the person fell onto the ground. I turned off the engine, and stepped out.

“Excuse me, are you okay?”

A young girl lay in front of me, clearly breathing trying hard to seem unconscious.

“Look, I'm not one for playing silly games, but if you want to play unconscious, that is fine. But you lady, I'm a Staff member, so please don't pull any tricks on me. I'm going to call an ambulance anyway because I'm obligated to do so.”

Someone came up to me, I prepared my standard answer

“Yes, I don't think I hit her, but I'm about to call an ambulance.” “Are you a staff member?” “Yes, give me a second, I need to call that ambulance.” I pulled out my mobile phone and began calling the emergency number, “Can I see your staff ID then!” The person was dressed in a bright blue dress, I just pulled out my card and held it up.

Somewhere between that movement and me giving the last details regarding the address, the blue dress grabbed my ID card and ran. I looked after her in a moment of confusion before noticing the young girl running away too.

Almost yelling into the phone that they should forget about the ambulance, I began running after the blue dress.

You see – if someone managed to get that thing on the black market, that card was going to make hell for us... the Con Men.

The Platinum Gundam

Anonymous

My name is Michael Rodgers and I'm recording this message because I fear I shall not return from the underbelly of this never ending con. I'll start from the beginning.

I came to Infinicon looking for my big break. I've been told that many riches and spoils lurk for those with enough brawn and brains. Heh, I won't be seeing any of that where I'm going. Anyway.

When I first arrived I spent some sleepless nights prowling for any lucrative job opportunities. I'd do anything providing the pay was good. Heh, I guess that was the folly of my downfall. I wasn't very lucky at first and I resorted to working dead end jobs so I could pay rent and keep my belly full. Though I guess word of my desire for a quick big bug spread around and when I was washing dishes in some noodle bar in anime market, when a hooded figure tapped me on the shoulder.

He handed me a package and just then sped out of the kitchen. Didn't say a word. Not one. But his package was clearly meant for me. Had my name on it and everything. On a 5 minute break I opened it up. There was a note,a map of and a freakin' glock with a small box of ammo. The note said... hang on lemme find it. Ah here it is

"Greetings opportunist. I come to you with a very attractive offer for you. But ye best be warned. Its a dangerous and no easy one. What I require of you involves going though the Undercon and obtaining a item that was stolen from me. The Platinum Gundam ( see the enclosed picture). If you accept and succeed,a most generous pay awaits. I won't blame you for rejecting this offer and trust me I'll know if you don't want this job. But I'll also know if you accept. Follow the directions on the map and make careful use of the weapon. Seek me out near the Gundam statue if you succeed.( you know where that is, everyone does) I'll be wearing what I was tonight.

Good luck, Opportunist!

After reading his note, I put both everything in the package on a bag I had on me and sought out the nearest manhole cover.

I descended into the Undercon and by GOD was the stench bad. It stung the nostrils. I see why the hard core post apoc LARPERS wear their gas masks.

After stumbling about in the tunnels for about 30 minutes, I bumped into someone calling himself a "Prospector", A cowboy like fella with a gas mask. He was mighty kind and asked me what I was doing down here. I explained that I was seeking "The Platinum Gundam" and asked if he could point me in the right direction ( the map didn't do shit)

He squinted at my map for a bit before saying "Shucks son, I'm going in that direction too! Tell ya what, we stick together and once we're in the general area of whatever this thing your looking for is at, we'll split, deal"

I sealed my fate when I agreed.

This cowboy knew the tunnels of the Undercon like the back of his hand. We bantered along with way about the crazy people you meet on the surface and down here. Just as he started making a joke about the bat shit insane furries down here, some guy in a wolf suit jumped appeared before us towards the end of a the tunnel we were in. He bellowed to us "WHO DARES MOCK THE KIND OF TALOS THE GRAND WOLF OF THE SNUGGLY WUGLIE CLAN, HE SHALL BE TOLD OF THIS. THE THING THAT THROBS IN HIS SHEATH WILL BE SATED TONIGHT."

With that he just scuttled off into the darkness, leaving me and the cowboy in hysterics.

Shortly after this we heard the sound of hustling and bustling. A small shanty town.

When we entered this shanty town, the cowboy started to get nervous. He wanted to get out here quick and fast he said. We just had to follow a straight line and we'd be in the next tunnel. But before we got half way, we were stopped by "security" ( two people cosplaying as tachikomas, their costumes were hilariously fake but their guns weren't). Apparently the cowboy owed the town some money. Not one guy, not a group of guys, the whole fucking town.

"Hey, Tachikoma Dave, I was just looking for you"

"Spare me your excuses or we take you and you're friend as payment"

I started to get worried. Was this how fucked up the undercon was? A place where people were sold to pay debts?

The cowboy was having none of it. Just as he looked like he was going to surrender, he whamed one of them in the face and kicked down the other one. While both where clamouring on the floor repeating" Major, Major" over and over again, the cowboy grabbed me by the collar and bolted out of the shanty town.

"C'mon" he said. "We just kicked the hornets nest"

We slowed our pace but we kept moving quickly. He said that they'd be mobilising in the town and ride out soon. And if that Furry kept his word, we'd both have our hands full.

It was at this moment I stopped and started laughing. I told him " Dude, this whole thing, this whole shindig. Its all a joke isn't it. No one actually takes this con seriously now do they?"

The cowboys eyes narrowed and said in a very grave voice " Good sir, I've seen people get stabbed in the street for 1st edition of shit like Rogue Trader and Shadowrun. I've seen the furries down here swamp and rape a poor guy to death. THIS CON IS SERIOUS FUCKING BUSINESS. Oh and this reminds, load your pistol I have a feeling your going to need it.

There's not much to report after that little outburst. We just kept on walking, occasionally asking for the map. We navigated the twisted tunnels with ease, thanks to his experience. Eventually we came across some sort of junk yard.

"It'll be here" I said. "Positive?" inquired the cowboy. "Yup, look at the map, has a bunch of scribblings of what I think is meant to represent a junk yard with a big red X. Probably the place".

We searched and searched, until we came across of half buried safe. After pulling it up the cowboy busted it open with a makeshift bludgeon. The Platinum Gundam glinted in all its glory. We didn't have time to admire it however, we heard the sounds of marching in one direction and a undisciplined stomping in the other crying "YIFFF YIFFF YIFFF"

At this moment the cowboy whammed me at the back of my head, grabbed the Gundam and fired two shots into the air with my glock. He the gun the my face.

"Good luck you fucking idiot. Your gonna need it.

Once I regained my composure, the cowboy had fled. I looked to my left and saw the never ending hoard furries descend down from the junk and to the right the outnumbered but well aimed shanty town militia. The leader of the militia saw me ( I could tell, no one has that much of a epic moustache without having any leadership qualities) before then the hoard the fursuiters before deciding that the furries posed more of a danger than me.

He barked orders to his men to fall back onto higher ground but the furries were already upon them. I myself hid under a pile of debris and rubbish.

The battle was brutal as fuck. This wasn't the con I signed up for man!. The militia put up a valiant fight using their rifles and pistols as clubs and bludgeoning tools when their ammo ran out but the furries were endless. One fell and 30 more took his place.

I think the Moustached leader pulled a pin of a grenade and yelled out "You'll never soil me arsehole you fucks". Then an explosion echoed throughout the junk yard.

They have now descended onto my hiding place and are rapidly digging their way though the rubbish. I shall save one bullet for myself. Hopefully these guys don't fuck corpses. If anyone finds this tape, bring it to the surface and make a movie/anime about me.

Thank you. This is Michael Rodgers saying goodbye.

'YIFF'

'YIFFFFFF'

'YIIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF....'

The Galleria

Anonymous

The Galleria is a higher-class area of Infincon, filled with fan-art of the highest quality and of every type. Performance artists, filkers, street painters, taggers, knitters, even buttersculptors.

But all this creativity is not without its cost. For every Shepard butter statue that sells well or attracts the Attention of passers-by, a hundred starving, obsessed, jealous, vengeful artisans labour away at their inferior, more obscure and exotic creations. This is true in life, but being in the proximity of so much beauty and creativity, their own, innate inferiority begins to dawn on them. Some are inspired to try harder than ever to perfect their craft. Others slowly become more and more unhinged.

The Galleria used to be considered one of the safest parts of the City. But that all changed a few weeks ago, ever since the...Incident. One of the Artists became inspired, alright. He displayed that inspiration...and much of his innards... for all to see, in a grisly tableaux that defied belief.

Ever since, C-Sec has kept a few eyes on the Galleria, and in the other, seemingly calmer, neutral spots, just in case.

The irony is, his gory magnum opus wasn't even that good.

Three Years

Anonymous

I woke up this morning in a moment of clarity.

My filthy futon surrounded by a wall of plastic crap on one side and a palisade of poster tubes propped up against a similar wall of comics and books, all in a squalid room that couldn't be more then 90 square feet. I sat there thinking, just THINKING of how long I had been here. Quickly, I snatched up my phone, turning over some paperback copies of some sci-fi series I couldn't even remember. I flicked it on and checked the date.

Three years.

It had been three years since I came here.

I just stared at the date, begging it, willing it to change. No chance. It remained fixed.

Three years.

What the hell happened? How did it come to this? I was happy at work, had a good thing going with some side projects and then I decided to come... here. And I didn't want to give it up. I spent my life's savings to stay here, to keep living the dream. I sold my flat, my car, I worked first as a designer, then an easier job so I could have more time to do what I loved.

Three years.

I pulled the hair-covered futon off of my body and staggered into the tiny cabinet that passed for my bathroom, staring into a mirror. I looked like shit. Unshaven, baggy eyed, pale and emaciated. What the hell had happened? I looked down on the toilet and saw staring back at me a copy of Nausicaa: Valley of the Wind, Vol.1. I took that copy with me to this place. I still remember finding it, in a second hand bookshop so long ago. God, I must have been 12 or so. It's what got me into all of this. I opened it at the start and read it through.

No, it wasn't this that got me into it. It was too pure. The artistry, the writing, the setting, everything, Nausicaa, shining through the masterful artwork. An inspiration, even to a younger age. It hadn't got me into this. I rushed back into the room and picked up a tattered copy of The Moon is a Harsh Mistress and opened it at random. The humour, the world, Mike and the Professor. Old friends.

Non this either. It wasn't them either.

It was me.

I had to get out. Sell the stuff I couldn't take with me, go back home, get a job again, a REAL job, not hawking plastic crap at similar bastards like myself, spending 90% of what I earned on the same crap I sold. I had to get out. Before I forgot again. Before the place possessed me again, so much that I would risk life and limb to fight through a crazed mob of similar delusional inmates just to get a rare piece of tat to sell for more tat.

Still time to leave. Still time to make things right.

I hoped.

The Parade

Anonymous

I can't even remember what holiday it was supposed to be for, but that was a parade I'd never forget. The streets were packed, like they always were, and cosplayers were parading down the streets in celebration of something or other..

The big spectacle of the day was the Gunpla society's full scale papier-mache gundam float. They had even managed to rig up some limited mobility with the thing, allowing it to move its arms and head.

It was a sight to behold, at least it was until the Anime district parade came to the major cross-section where the Sci-Fi parade was coming from. There was a brief scuffle as marching bands and cosplay groups stumble past each other, then it came rolling down the street... The Sci-Fi district had created a full-sized papier-mache Normandy float.

It was rather nice to see the two, side by side, the sun just peaking out and glittering golden rays across them, as if to celebrate their glory. The landing bay doors opened on the Normandy and a picture-perfect squad of Shapard, Liara, and Wrex stepped out. The crowd audibly gasped for a moment before a flurry of flash photography went off...

Then they opened fire. Their guns were super-soakers and Wrex was lobbing water balloons the size of basketballs. Chunks of the Gundam vanished beneath the watery onslaught. My heart sank as I watched chunks of RX-78's frame fall to pieces.

It's arm raised feebly, aiming its beam rifle at the Normandy. A geyser of water burst from it's barrel and tore across the Normandy's hull, tearing it from stem to stern. In the chaos of the initial assault, the Gundam's float operators had tapped into a nearby fire hydrant and their Gundam was now tearing through the opposing float as it slowly raised its arm.

Shit like that is the reason I stay in this city.

Japanophilia

Anonymous

"A-are you Japanese?" The leader of the group asks you "Yes."you answer. Row by row, the mass of humanity begins to kneel before you. Cardboard and foam begin creasing as those gathered genuflect. "W-wait, wha-." you ask them "Shogun-sama!" the leader cries out, her eyes directed at a spot near your feet. "Shogun-sama! Shogun-sama! Shogun-sama! Shogun-sama!" The crowd mimics. "What is this?" you ask. "You have in you the blood of kings." the leader tells you, her orange and black jumpsuit rustling as she bows deeper. "We will follow your every whim! allow us to serve you!"

"I don't know if this mission just got easier, or it just got way harder." you tell Erica. "Heh." she grins, "You've done it now."

The Shogun's fall

Anonymous

You look over the mass of people prostrate before you and turn to their leader.

"Why me?" you ask him.

"Your lineage. Your bloodline. You are who we have been waiting for since our last shogun fell." he tells you.

"What happened to the last guy?" Erica asks with a smirk.

"He was taken from us half a year ago. The Gackt army attacked one of our strongholds aiming to take what little makeup and hair dye we had."

"They attacked in the cover of night, when most of our members were busy watching anime or lining up for a midnight release of the newest dating games."

"Our shogun bravely fought off half a dozen of them to keep a box of washable hair dye safe from their effeminate clutches."

"He died that night?" Hina asks him

"No. It was much, much worse." he says as he shakes his head.

"He was taken to the hospital by the ICE after they broke up the battle, his injuries were minimal and easily taken care of. But it was at that hospital that we lost him."

"What happened?" Hina asks him to continue.

"He met a nurse. A nurse that cosplayed as a nurse. He fell for the vixen's wiles and swore loyalty to her. We never heard of him ever again." he then looks at you with fire in his old eyes.

"But that is the past. WE HAVE YOU. You are our Shogun now. You shall lead us. Tell us what you want us to do and consider it done."

Oracle

Anonymous

You and your team make your way through the dank dark tunnels.

The waitress costume you wear to blend with the natives luckily free enough to allow you unimpeded movement.

Erica seems unbothered by the chainmail bikini she has on. The foam and wood axe in her hands gleam in the dim light of your LED lamps.

You look behind you and see Jun in his spacesuit struggling with the clamps on the helmet.

"You okay there man?"

"Yeah. I just need more circulation through this thing."

The tunnel ends in a huge cavern. Old posters are plastered on its walls.

Fading yellowed throwbacks to days gone-by.

In the middle of the room is a huge construct of countless computers.

Screens and monitors are tied to scaffolding haphazardly.

Wires snake along the floor and up into the ceiling.

"WHO DARES DISTURB THE ORACLE?"

A squeaky voice asks you from behind the rotting leather chair facing away from you.

NarutoGal341, your guide, steps forward.

"We are but simple travelers in search of information. We offer Cheetos and Twinkies in tribute."

She sets down the bag she was carrying.

"AND WHAT ABOUT THE DRINKS? YOU DARE OFFER TRIBUTE WITH NO FITTING DRINK?"

"We... We lost the bottles to an attack by some of the footclan. We apologize for coming unprepared."

The figure keeps quiet in his seat, you can see yourselves displayed in one of the monitors nearest to him.

"IN PLACE OF DRINKS I WILL ACCEPT A KISS FROM THAT ONE."

you think he means Erica.

"NO. SHE IS NOT PART OF THE TRADE!" you roar.

"Not her, silly boy. I MEANT YOU." he says as he turns his seat around

The Forest

Anonymous

It was a clear night, maybe a little too cold but we didn’t really care about that. We had a big enough fire and enough mead to last until morning. That was one of the reasons the Sergeant kicked us out of the camp. Well, technically he kicked out us from the camp because we were too loud and they wanted to get some sleep, but I think you can figure out the whole story.

Regardless, the Sergeant said that if we eight were awake, we might as well be on guard duty. So we came out into the middle of the field, which were next to our camp and spent the night there, drinking mead, telling jokes and stories, having a good time. Ivan was in the middle of one of his horror stories about what kind of “elves” they had back in Russia, when some people came with torches and everything, maybe a dozen of them. First we thought they were from a nearby camp, maybe they needed urgent help against a night raid or maybe they had a secret meeting with the Captain. We didn’t really care about it, I mean we were more or less a neutral mercenary band (and a good one I might add) so there were no reasons to attack us, even less for a bunch of torch wielding commoners.

As they approached we realized one important thing: they had lamps too. Like electric ones. And that means they were not from the Forest, and not larpers at all. There goes the peaceful night...

As they got close enough that we could see their faces it turned out that they are probably from the Sci-Fi district and most of them are somewhere around they early twenties. Nowhere else could you find such crappy uniforms. At least not all uniforms were the same, there were at least two Trekkies with them, I couldn’t recognize the rest. That’s good, it meant it wasn't another faction who wanted to pick a bone with us, just some random geeks.

"WE WANT THE FURRY!"

One of them shouted. We were so baffled that we just stared at them in silence for a few seconds, I think Tinus even said a quiet “What?”.

"This is not a brothel, get lost."

I answered finally. I would like to say that this angered them but they were pretty much angry already.

"Don’t play dumb! We know you are hiding a furry! If you don’t give us the furry we will call the Enforcers!"

I exchanged looks with the other. They just shrugged.

"Look kid, I honestly don’t know what the fuck are you talking about, so go home, the Forest is dangerous at night."

They did not heed my advice and I think some of them even had a smug look at that warning.

"Oh yeah? Then you deny that there is a person among you who wears a fursuit all day and that you hiding him?"

Meanwhile of this he held up something that looked like a modified smartphone, he probably recorded the whole thing for whatever reason he had.

"Fursuit?"

I was even more baffled now we exchanged looks again and clearly nobody knew what the fuck is going on. But at last Heinrich realized what is this all about.

"Maybe he is talking about Darios?"

"Don’t be an idiot! He is a fucking minotaur not a furry!"

"Well... he did tried to teabag that goblin back then..."

"And “seduced” the drow mistress..."

A raised my arm and made a “cut the shit” gesture then with a huge sigh I slowly stood up from my chair and finally putting down my mead.

"Look, kid. You obviously made a mistake here. The guy you are talking about is not a furry. He is a larper and part of the Brigata, so one of us. Also he is probably sleeping back at the camp."

I tried to put my hand on his shoulder like a friendly gesture but he just stepped away and snapped at me.

"Then raise your camp and throw him in chains before I send all of this to the Enforcers! You already admitted everything!"

I sighed again and gave him the No.2 cityguard look which were reserved for idiots and fools. I don’t really miss my cityguard days...

"I would love to do that but do you see those wooden walls at the camp? And that huge door? It is closed. And we lost the key. Honestly. So we can’t go back either, better wait until morning, get some sleep think it through again and realize your mistakes. It’s not like he fucked your girl or anything important..."

He blushed immediately. Oh fuck, here we go again... Darios will get more than a lecture from the Captain this time.

"I don’t care about you or your excuses. If you don’t bring him out we will BURN down your camp"

Everyone slowly put down their drink and the night grew colder as we looked at the “leader” of this group.

"Listen..."

I started really slowly.

"If you so much as touch that camp we will beat you until you go away. With padded sticks of course because we are generally nice people. But if you even TRY to set anything on fire while here then we will go full medieval on your ass. And just to be sure that you understand: We will impale you and your friends on a fucking maypole and dance around it until we get bored, then leave you there to rot. Now get the fuck out of our Forest!"

After that I turned around to walk back to my chair, and that was the moment when everything went black. Later they told me that smartphone like thing had a tazer in it.

When I regained consciousness I was still a little shaky but missed only a few seconds, maybe half a minute, I don’t know, but my friends already had their share of the fight. A chair lied in pieces on the ground, two more of us on the ground, probably tazed, but four of the sci-fi kids were on the ground to, one of them screaming and his hands on his face, next to on the ground a torch. the rest were knocked out for good.

Thank God that none of us was drunk enough to actually use their real knifes and daggers, so they just used their hands and larp weapons, doing what wasn’t allowed on larps: hitting the head, neck and groin areas and with full force. Padding is a good thing but only if you control yourself which we did not. I grabbed my pollax somehow managed to stand up and entered the fray too, barking a few command to overcome the chaos so we can fight as a real unit. It did not take long until we kicked their asses, but that wasn't such a feat. I mean a bunch of half-drunk larper against a dozen sci-fi wannabe who don’t know shit about fighting? If the Captain would see this he would facepalm so hard that a new forest would grow.

Regardless we were the winners, the uniformed idiots all on the ground some of the moaning, some of them bleeding a little or just grabbing various parts of their body in pain.

"See? This is why you don’t go into a brawl without a polearm."

I said while we smashed to pieces all their gadgets and stomped out their torches. Then I took a closer look on the guy who got the torch into his face. Burned eyebrows, red as crab and he couldn’t open his eyes on his own, but as far as I could tell nothing permanent. Then we poured a little mead on them so even the unconscious ones will awake too, got them on their feet and pointed into the right direction.

"Get out. Don’t come back. If we ever see you again you won’t leave the Forest, not even your dead bodies will."

I’m pretty sure they wanted to say something, but they no longer had the bravery for it. So they just started lurching away, like some kind of zombies.

"Ivan, you know what? Be so good and sprint down to the Goblin Caves and tell them that some “drunken merchants” lost their way in the Forest, and they are under no one's protection. I’m sure they will know what to do..."

First Con

Anonymous

Y'know, I've only been to two cons before. They were the same con, but the first I went to alone and was very confused as to what to do there. The second time I was with some cosplayers but still didn't cosplay myself, and I had an amazing time. Hearing stuff like this makes me imagine those new teens, the ones that go to a con for the first time, getting in way over there heads. Fresh meat. Stay in groups, the security guard says. You're with a few friends, just eating some lunch and consulting the schedule to decide what to do next. Someone asks you if you want a free hug, then the next minute you turn back to your friends and one of them are gone. They could have been dragged away by furries. Corrupted by a LARPer who thinks they're telepathic. The next kid leaves to go to the bathroom and you know it's over. You don't want to say anything, you still have faith in the good of the con. She'll be fine. Right?

And you sit there twiddling your thumbs and drinking Ramune. Waiting.

And they never come back.

Training Day

Anonymous

"Strike!" I yell out.

A handful of thumps and whacks were heard.

"Again!"

More thumps and whacks. The sound of latex on plastic resounded through the borrowed dance hall.

"Tom, your form is terrible. Watch your feet, and how you're stepping. Lily, stop being lazy and actually lift that sword above your shoulder; point it upwards! You're a German knight, not a goddamn Italian mercenary. AND DID I TELL YOU LOT TO STOP?!"

A few groans, a bit of muttering; the strikes began anew.

They were a sorry lot. They were looking to step their game up in the LARP quarter. A few of them wanted to make a name for themselves as knights and mercenaries, others wanted to be more in character and in line with a 15th century warrior. A few wanted to be able to hold up the newbs more effectively as highwaymen. Doesn't matter. They checked in to learn. 12 cards beeped in, 12 seminar credits spent and credited to his account.

"All right, gather round." Time for partner drills now that they've all got some decent mechanics. "We're working the Zornhau today." The drills were mechanically the same, whether the weapons were steel, wood, polypropylene, foam, or latex. "The attack forces your opponent out of guard, controls the line of attack, and keeps you safe, and forces your opponent onto the ground to bleed slowly and ponder their misspent lives." Demonstrate, watch, correct, praise when necessary, repeat with a new technique. Build slowly, watch them come to understand. The two hour class is almost over.

They're all tired. Lead them through some stretches, give them some words of wisdom to ponder, loose them on the con. Tomorrow they'll come again when they see how the techniques work and what they don't cover.

They become effective fighters, I live the dream for another day, and there's another reason to come to the con.

Final Fantasy Guard

Anonymous

As a guard in the Fantasy district, thing can get pretty fucking weird, as you can imagine. Other areas are bound by certain laws of their fandom. Sci-fi tends to follow the laws of physics and what not. Anime obeys set rules from the mangas and animus.

But here in Fantasy? Ho boy, these fucks have some imagination. I'm not really that big into D&D and whatnot, but I do love me some Terry Pratchett. That's why I became a guard, here, to protect these idiots.

I think, that if it wasn't for me and the other guys I work with, these idiots would be overrun and wiped out by now. I know that everyone's just having some fun, but it can get out of hand some times. I had to rescue a younger lad who believed he had an enchanted sword and had to exterminate all the furries in the UnderCon.

I'm never going back there again. And I'm not going to answer any questions. The sound of techno makes Olivious break down into sobbing and rectum rubbing. Poor bastard...

I patrol the area around the Fantasy district and maintain somewhat good relations with Sci-Fi. They leave us alone, we leave them alone. All's good and well. Until the 40K guys see some alchemists. Then it's purge mode all day.

I knew a guy in the Industrial district. He was a "Blacksmith" here. He just cut up cardboard as weapons. But over there, he's truly at home. I think some guy found an iron vein and they just kind of boomed. Thanks to an old favor I've got me a nice iron breast plate that looks fucking sweet. No swords though, violence is a no-no.

Didn't stop me going to the forest, cutting down a branch and making a baton. I need to quell a situation if it gets out of hand. And 3 pounds of oak with a wizard's blessing is a good argument finisher.

If you guys want, I can share some stories of my time with the fantasy guard.

PelorAnon

Anonymous

Day 1: I hop out of the bus at the Infinity Central Station. Bus ride from Seattle took a few days, and the rest on the bus is not kind or goodly rest. I gather my luggage and am led to the n00b herd with all the other bright eyed arrivals. Give two pieces of ID, scan my phone, and now I've got a nice shiny guest badge.

It's odd and pleasant not having people look at me funny when they hear my bag clanking. My hotel is at the edge of the fantasy district. I discover quickly that cabs don't go anywhere within 5 blocks of the fantasy district, so that leaves the last few blocks on foot. The cabby tells me to throw up my hands and yell "NEWB!" If a costumed group tries to hit me with the shakedown. "The first couple days are free passage to try and get familiar. Most of the time, the marauding groups are NPC highwaymen who will go down easy to give new players a confidence boost. Maybe there'll be an NPC wench that needs an escort after. Break the immersion, and they won't fuck with you. Probably"

"Uh, thanks." Pay the driver, and flip him a tip for the advice.

No one bothered me on the way, though a few in character doxies and trollops were having what seemed to be a less than pleasant chat with some security guards.

The hotel isn't a hotel. Hotels are tacky looking places that hookers get fucked in, or ridiculously opulent. It's opulent looking, but that's because it's a fucking castle.

I stroll in wide eyed, and make my way to what I assume is the front desk. The man behind the desk greeted me and got me set up with my room quick fast. Told me that I'd have access to the armory to clean and prep my gear, and that there was usually something cooking in the kitchen, and tavern fare was on special for guests.

The room is comfortable looking, and there's even a stand for costume stuff. All the basic amenities.

...Alright, enough writing. I'm gonna explore and get some dinner. Pull my gear out of the bag, and dry it off. Tomorrow should be interesting.

Godwyn's Story

Anonymous

Right, so it's been a few months since I've told my story about moving to InfiniCon, so here's how things are shaping up;

My landlord of sorts, the weird girl, has been doing all kinds of occult experiments. I've shown some interest in a few of them and despite some wariness she decided to let me help on a couple of them. Needless to say, after that giant face came out of the wall and screamed some horrible death cry at us our working relationship was over. My friend has gotten -really- into his character, Cid Highwind. I keep hearing a lot of banging, swearing, engine revving, and yet more swearing out in the back. I know what he's trying to do, and I recommended against it, but he just shrugs me off. Dumbass.

I've been keeping busy in my own ways. When I make the occasional excursion out of our tiny, narrow apartment into the dark streets it's usually to set up shop in my prop stand. I mostly sell foam boffers, and stuff like that but I've occasionally been paid really well to make a few more..."sturdy" props. I don't care what they do with them, I don't want to know.

Most of my customers are the real weird types. Furries, and worse. I don't care much what their deal is, so long as their money is good. I'm trying to save up as much as I can to get out of the dark streets, and head over to the Scifi district. I hear they're in need of a decent prop maker, and space is limited. Also pricey. Anyhow, a few weeks ago some guy in a long leather coat comes up to my stand and starts looking around at my wares. I've seen them around before, watching me. He kept his face hidden under a wide brimmed hat. I asked him what I could do for him.

"I want you to come with me. I've heard about you, and some of the...special pieces you've made. You've caused a lot of trouble for us." He reaches into his pocket, and just as I'm about to pull out a chair leg I had stowed away he flashes the Rosarius from the 40k universe. So, he was an Inquisitor. Basically the scifi district's secret police, or so they would have you believe.

All the same, messing with this guy wouldn't be smart. So I just nodded and let him lead the way.

He took me to a waiting cab. The same girl from before was there, looking really nervous. This time she ditched the scar and blue hair and was sporting long pink drill hair. She saw me and gave just the faintest hint of a smile before seeing the Inquisitor. She rushed to open the doors, and hopped into the driver's seat. "Take us to the scifi district. The 40k apartment complex."

The trip over was dead quiet. The normally bubbly and talkative driver was scared stiff. Was this guy really that dangerous, or was this all a case of "immersion"? When we got to the apartment complex I could scarcely believe my eyes. Buildings piled on top of buildings, with grand statues leering down at us. Many I recognized at once. I saw Space Marines in outfits of varying quality stomping around. It seemed that those with the better costumes were in charge over the rest.

Masterwork Bastard Sword

Anonymous

In the deep forgotten bowels of the Undercon, a lone neckbeard heaved and shuddered, his toils accompanied only by the glow of the forge and the rhythmic clanging of metal against metal. Time and again he struck the alloy, sweat dripping profusely, trying to shape the metal. Slowly but surely, the metal takes the form of a bastard sword, its design truly original. At last, the naked sword is done; The neckbeard then began making its hilt, handle, and sheath. It is said the lone neckbeard worked on the blade days, weeks even, but finally he holds the sword, its features glinting in the glow of the forge. Silver and gold inset on its blade, and hilt made from copper wires; Lodged, nay, weaved deftly in the wires were crystals and marbles of varying size. Symmetrical was its sheath, made of the finest leather and fabric that could have its origins in Akihabara. The neckbeard glanced one last time at his creation, and sheathed it. At that point, he grunted mightily, and clutched his chest; Some say he died smiling, alone, deep in the Undercon.

"I think the Furries lost our tracks, Joe."

"For crying out loud, use my Stalker name! Mishka Boar, isn't that easy?"

"You never got mine right, anyway."

"Whatever. It seems like this part isn't in any map of the Undercon we have."

"Damn right. Let's scrounge for stuff, shall we?"

"Hey, look at this! Vlad, look!"

"I swear, if it's another pile of used tissues..."

"No, look at this!"

Mishka shone his flashlight to a room. Inside, a skeleton can be seen, its hands clutching a bastard sword.

"Whoa! Could it be...?"

Mishka took the sword, and examined it. The steel of the blade and the gold and silver inset gleam in their flashlight.

"Yes, it is... we just found the legendary Masterwork Dwarven Bastard Sword of the Neckbeard. We're gonna be rich, Vlad!"

Heart of the Cards

Anonymous

"Timequest, Timequest, ghost fighter." You step up to him.

"You... You speak old dub?" The prisoner asks in surprise..

"Cardcaptors. Thundersub AVG." you nod and step towards him menacingly

"D-donuts donuts baloney sandwich!" he tries to push his chair back and away from you.

"VHS. Laserdisc. FANLETTERS." you stare into his eyes.

"Okay! okay! I'll talk!" he finally breaks.

"Now...." you ask him, still struggling in his chair. "Who sent you?"

"It was the Takoyaki-Group! They paid me to check out this new Shogun the Ramen-gumi had. Please don't take away my trading cards!"

"If you want to keep those cards safe, then I suggest you tell us everything you know." You say with a hard edge to your voice.

"I don't know man. Someone just came up to me and gave me 2 blue eyes white dragons and a pack of goblin mines to check you out. All I know is that he's from the Takoyaki-group since he smelled like takoyaki sauce."

He's shaking in fear now, trying to get the duct tape off his hands.

"I swear man. that's all I know."

"What did he look like?" You ask as you lean in closer, eyes still locked onto his.

"He had a mask on. It was a weird mask made of burlap with an eye and a hand drawn onto it. H-he was also wearing a nice suit."

"Where did you meet him?" Every word you say oozing with intimidation.

"J-just outside the Red-light district! That's all I know. I swear." a wet patch begins to form at the crotch of his jumpsuit and he begins to sob uncontrollably.

You slip your hand into his pockets and fish out a stack of cards.

"My cards!" He yells as he struggles with his bindings.

You slowly look through the deck.

They're a mix of MtG, Pokemon and Yugioh cards.

There are even some Mushiking cards thrown in.

Most of them have been defaced using a permanent marker with little notes like "COOL!" "AWESOME!!!" and "HAXXX!!"

You turn back to him.

"We will let you go. But I will keep your cards. I want you to find out more about this masked man. I also want you to find anything about any black and red robed figures."

You pick out the blue eyed white dragon cards and examine them. They're knock-offs.

"You will report back to us at noon tomorrow with any information you have. If you fail to come back, then I have no idea just what will happen to these."

You wave the card in front of him for emphasis.

"Okay! Okay! I'll come back with info I swear! Just don't harm my babies!" He pleads.

"Good. I will be waiting for you at noon then."

You pocket the cards and walk out of the room.

The heavy metal door slowly closes behind you once more.

Esper

Anonymous

It didn't take much to remain hidden among the crowds in the Tech. Angular, geometric lighted panels were mounted to nearly every wall in the downtown, giving the impression of a cityscape lifted from a sci-fi flick. Flashing adverts drew the eye away from himself as he stepped through the crowds.

He dressed like a normal person, given his surroundings. While it wasn't normal attire for a normal city, the trench coat, goggles, and LED-supplemented goggles gave the impression of a mad inventor, something commonplace in a district such as this. One could blend in by dressing normally in every district, given you know what was considered "normal" there. Walk down the street into another district and you could be seen as an outsider.

That's what Esper was: A master of disguise. This is not exactly the most useful of trades by itself, but combined with his fleet feet and arsenal of handy gizmos, he could get where he wanted without any trouble. That's what he needed to do tonight.

Sidestepping inconspicuously into the alleyway, Esper quietly strode to a worn, unmarked door, and put his hand directly in the middle of it. A holographic display lit up the shadowed alley, and after spinning circles and cybertechnic icons focused on his palm.

Three low tones pierced the ambient noise, and the display turned red. Access denied. As the holographic display faded back into the darkness, Esper took his phone out of his inner pocket. Unlike most citizens of Infinicon, this was a sleek, custom device which was a far cry from the cheap, second hand phones most non-techies used for texting and calling exclusively. Pointing his phone at the door, the holographic display appeared once again. With a couple swipes on the touchscreen, the icons and symbols moved quickly towards the center toward an outline of a palm which appeared on the display, and the display turned from a bright cyan to a lime green. Access granted. The door smoothly slid into the left of the frame, and Esper quietly strode in.

Inside was starkly different from the outside. Instead of the hyper-stimulating screens outside, grey walls created a scientific atmosphere which made Esper uncomfortable. Without the familiar glow and bustling crowds to blend into, he was out of place. Nevertheless, it was time to do what he was assigned.

Following vague signs on the walls, he navigated the empty hallways until he got to a single, iron door. This one was locked with a magnetic lock, as he was told, which would only unlock with powerful electromagnetic force when the correct numbers were entered into the keypad. It was a tricky system that most Infinicon businesses didn't use due to its expensive nature, but what was behind this door was obviously worth it.

the job

"anoymous" Ugh, it was just another day in infinity city you know how it goes. You see im not the nicest fella in fact you could say i did some things that some people didn't appreciate. I i got a call from some g-man about how they had a job for me. of course i accepted because money dosen't come easy around these parts you see. The man said that i had to get someone. The person exactly well... he said i had to tag n' bag some pokeymans trainer. or whatevs i know what he ment. he told me they had runners bringing in crack inside of pokeballs or some shit like that. he said he got the intel on a inside job. I dont care what fandom you are a part of or how many thugs you have working for you this person the boss told me to arrest was mental because his intel said he had men in pokemon suits and he thought they were real pokemon, Like one dude he sent to kill the crackhead "trainer" was captured and never heard from again. im not so foolish to run in there without a gun because the g-man didnt tell him that the crackhead was a adult and not some teen who bought crack on the street. and had some crackhead episode. This guy is a dealer. Anyway enugh talk. lets get to what you came for: The action, this crackhead deals from some apartment complex turned drug compound. theres nobody outside so i open the door and the lobby in also empty. Huh weird, on the second floor there is one door with all sorts of posters with pokemon on them. This is the one. i kick it down and say "OK ASSHOLE YOUR DRUG-FULED DELUSION IS OVER!" pointing my gun in the room the only thing i see is a room FULL of pokemon stuff. Plushies, more posters, mountains of cards, and tapes of the animated series this stuff might be valuable, if i gave a shit. There is a crt television COVERED in pokemon stickers from top to bottom playing the animated series. I kick the vcr so hard the tape falls out, the tape is labeled: ep: 38 somethin somethin porygon (english) the episode is terribly dubbed using someones impression of the character voices. Isn't that banned footage? how did he get it on tape? did he use the crack money for that? what wouid happen if this got onto the black market? anyways there a thug on the couch under a pile of pokemon blankets and plushies. this isnt the guy because he isnt in the ridiculous outfits these pokemon "trainers" wear. He was probbably watching the show and passed out because he watched the banned episode. i search the place for drugs but the place is full of pokeballs. It wouid take days but if i got backup and maybe a few experts it would expedite the process. the passed out guy falls off the couch. Under the blankets a dozen plastic pokeballs tumble to the ground and bust open revealing crack. i confiscate all of it. in the window there is a alley and there is a car parked there. The man is standing right behind the trunk dealing crack to some other crackhead. i run downstairs and go to the alley. He is finishing the deal to some crack addict with his delusional goons dressed as pokemon then i say: "YOUR TIME IS UP!" he says: "another challenger! how strong are you?" then he says: "go team!" and his thugs run after me the boss told me not to kill unless i had to. so i let the come at me and i say: "dont make me shoot!" he says: "charizard use cut!" and i say sarcastically: "g17 use 9mm!" and shoot the goon in the head before he couid hit me and i say (sarcasticly): "its very effecive!" he says: "charizard fainted!" i say: "BRING IT ON ASS-MUNCH!" he says "blastoise! use water gun!" the gut dressed as blastiose clearly delusional tries to hit me with a super soaker. and the freak says: "its not very effective!" i shoot the thug trying to refill his soaker. the dealer tries to pay me for "besting him in battle" and he gives me 5 bucks im like: Whatever sicko. "youre comin with me bub!" he says: "you cant catch me! im a trainer! not a pokemon!" i say i dont have time for this i confiscate the rest of his drugs and throw him in the back of my van. In short these are the kind of people who shouidn't tangle with unless you're a proffesional like me. "dont do drugs kids!" i tell him: "winners don't do drugs" then i put him where he belongs: the slammer then i get my money and pick up the phone for the next job... log ended.