The black van slowed to a stop in front of the apartment house. Its leaf springs groaned with relief as its occupants exited the vehicle, and stood in front of it. Three black clad men stared up at the target apartment, each of them holding an instrument of destruction. As if by unseen signal, the trio suddenly started toward the building, purposeful strides a testament to their awful intent.
The pounding on his apartment door was wholly unexpected, making him spill most of the Fruit Loops all over the computer keyboard in front of him, where the sugary milk intermingled with other, less palatable stains. DarkStar stared at the closed door to his apartment, wondering who it could possibly be. He hadn't had money for takeout for months.
Shakily, DarkStar saved the document he was typing on his computer, then stood from his milkcrate he was sitting on, and approached the door.
"Who is it?" he asked.
His answer came in the form of splintering wood, as his door disintegrated in front of him. DarkStar flung his arms in front of his face, as he was thrown to the potato sack covered floor. When he looked up to where the door was, he saw three men filling the doorway. The looks on their faces left no doubt in his mind that they were delivering nothing but torment.
One of the men stepped forward. He was heavyset, and carried a black aluminum baseball bat.
"Are you.DarkStar?"
"Who.who wants to know.?"
The bat whistled in the air, striking DarkStar directly on his bald pate. He spun, was thrown into a pile of clothes, where he screamed as he held his head in his hands.
"WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK?"
The heavyset man walked over to DarkStar, and crouched in front of him.
"I'm only gonna ask you this once more," the man said, a heavy New York accent peppering his words. "Are you DarkStar?"
"Y-YES!" DarkStar screamed.
The man stood, smiled, and offered a hand to help DarkStar to his feet. Reflexively, DarkStar took it, and was hoisted to his feet. He began to ask a question, when once again the bat swung again, slamming into his left kneecap. DarkStar screamed, slammed to the floor, holding his shattered knee as he writhed in incredible pain. Quickly, he looked to see what the man was about to do next. What he saw was the man's back as he stood near DarkStar's computer, studying the screen. The two other men walked into the room at that point, walked toward him, staring at him.
Shakily, DarkStar clapped his hands, and the room was illuminated with a sickly yellowish glow from the single lightbulb hanging from the low ceiling. The men stopped advancing. And simply stared at their victim. With a thrill of fear, DarkStar recognized his late night (or was it morning?) visitors.
"I know you, ALL of you!" he whined. He pointed to the man with the bat. "You, you're.Dalton!"
Dalton simply stared at the pathetic excuse for a man. The other men surrounded the human pile of shit, as he named them.
"Wong! What are you doing here? And..oh no..Poe? Is that."
The huge man named Poe backhanded DarkStar full in the mouth, sending him crashing through piled trash in a corner. The man named Wong picked up one of many thick document lying near the computer. After a cursory examination, he flipped through the pages, his eyebrows arching in realization.
"He really CAN'T afford a TV. These are screencaps of the StarWars movies he 's printed from the internet and made into a flip-book."
"So that's why he's so completely wrong about the facts of the films," Dalton observed.
DarkStar began to protest, but Poe suddenly grabbed him by what little hair he had and pulled him to a standing position. Poe stood directly in front of him, staring him down. He spoke in a quiet, menacing whisper.
"The canon policy, as is properly understood and implemented by everyone with a functioning brain, is that the movies, scripts novelizations, and radio plays are canon. The EU materials are officially accepted Star Wars fact, where the do not contradict the canon."
"I beg to differ," DarkStar said. "The proper-"
He never finished his sentence, as Poe interrupted his spiel by grabbing the back of his head and slamming his face into the computer desk. Poe then grabbed DarkStar again, and slammed his face even harder into the drywall of DarkStar's apartment.
"NO! GOD IN HEAVEN STOP!!" DarkStar pleaded through broken teeth and busted lips, as Poe stood in front of him once again.
Poe stared at DarkStar, willing the whiny little bastard to be quiet. When he was satisfied, he spoke once again.
"The canon policy, as is properly understood and implemented by everyone with a functioning brain, is that the movies, scripts novelizations, and radio plays are canon. The EU materials are officially accepted Star Wars fact, where the do not contradict the canon."
DarkStar stared into the eyes of Poe, seeing the deadly evil menace behind them.
"Yes, yes..I agree." He cried.
Satisfied, Poe turned as if to go. DarkStar breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly Poe spun around, a ham sized palm slamming into DarkStar's face. DarkStar screamed, then turned to Poe again. Poe stared at DarkStar once more, daring him to retaliate. When none came, Poe backhanded the pathetic bastard again, watching DarkStar scream like David Spade on helium. He faced DarkStar once more, and waited. Goading him to take a swing. When none came, Poe spat in DarkStar's face, then stood his ground, stared again. Nothing. Disgusted, Poe turned and walked away.
As he did, the man called Wong walked over, and stood over the shaking excuse for a man.
"The Death Star," Wong began, "Has the ability to destroy a planet.."
"Through a special chain reaction, which we see when it fires on the unshielded surface of Alder.."
Wong walked over to DarkStar's computer, and ripped the keyboard from the tower. He advanced on DarkStar, who back away, limping toward the back wall of his apartment. Wong swung the keyboard, connecting with DarkStar's already ruined face, then proceeded to beat the cowering, screaming man with it until only a few pieces of the keyboard were left.
Dalton walked over and pounded to bat into DarkStar's ribs. Poe came over to deliver a few well placed devastating kicks.
"PLEASE! PLEASE STOOOP!" DarkStar screamed again.
Poe and Dalton withdrew slowly, and walked toward the front door. Wong crouched near the fallen asshole. DarkStar stated into the eyes of his superior.
The black van slowed to a stop in front of the apartment house. Its leaf springs groaned with relief as its occupants exited the vehicle, and stood in front of it. Three black clad men stared up at the target apartment, each of them holding an instrument of destruction. As if by unseen signal, the trio suddenly started toward the building, purposeful strides a testament to their awful intent.
The pounding on his apartment door was wholly unexpected, making him spill most of the Fruit Loops all over the computer keyboard in front of him, where the sugary milk intermingled with other, less palatable stains. DarkStar stared at the closed door to his apartment, wondering who it could possibly be. He hadn't had money for takeout for months.
Shakily, DarkStar saved the document he was typing on his computer, then stood from his milkcrate he was sitting on, and approached the door.
"Who is it?" he asked.
His answer came in the form of splintering wood, as his door disintegrated in front of him. DarkStar flung his arms in front of his face, as he was thrown to the potato sack covered floor. When he looked up to where the door was, he saw three men filling the doorway. The looks on their faces left no doubt in his mind that they were delivering nothing but torment.
One of the men stepped forward. He was heavyset, and carried a black aluminum baseball bat.
"Are you.DarkStar?"
"Who.who wants to know.?"
The bat whistled in the air, striking DarkStar directly on his bald pate. He spun, was thrown into a pile of clothes, where he screamed as he held his head in his hands.
"WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK?"
The heavyset man walked over to DarkStar, and crouched in front of him.
"I'm only gonna ask you this once more," the man said, a heavy New York accent peppering his words. "Are you DarkStar?"
"Y-YES!" DarkStar screamed.
The man stood, smiled, and offered a hand to help DarkStar to his feet. Reflexively, DarkStar took it, and was hoisted to his feet. He began to ask a question, when once again the bat swung again, slamming into his left kneecap. DarkStar screamed, slammed to the floor, holding his shattered knee as he writhed in incredible pain. Quickly, he looked to see what the man was about to do next. What he saw was the man's back as he stood near DarkStar's computer, studying the screen. The two other men walked into the room at that point, walked toward him, staring at him.
Shakily, DarkStar clapped his hands, and the room was illuminated with a sickly yellowish glow from the single lightbulb hanging from the low ceiling. The men stopped advancing. And simply stared at their victim. With a thrill of fear, DarkStar recognized his late night (or was it morning?) visitors.
"I know you, ALL of you!" he whined. He pointed to the man with the bat. "You, you're.Dalton!"
Dalton simply stared at the pathetic excuse for a man. The other men surrounded the human pile of shit, as he named them.
"Wong! What are you doing here? And..oh no..Poe? Is that."
The huge man named Poe backhanded DarkStar full in the mouth, sending him crashing through piled trash in a corner. The man named Wong picked up one of many thick document lying near the computer. After a cursory examination, he flipped through the pages, his eyebrows arching in realization.
"He really CAN'T afford a TV. These are screencaps of the StarWars movies he 's printed from the internet and made into a flip-book."
"So that's why he's so completely wrong about the facts of the films," Dalton observed.
DarkStar began to protest, but Poe suddenly grabbed him by what little hair he had and pulled him to a standing position. Poe stood directly in front of him, staring him down. He spoke in a quiet, menacing whisper.
"The canon policy, as is properly understood and implemented by everyone with a functioning brain, is that the movies, scripts novelizations, and radio plays are canon. The EU materials are officially accepted Star Wars fact, where the do not contradict the canon."
"I beg to differ," DarkStar said. "The proper-"
He never finished his sentence, as Poe interrupted his spiel by grabbing the back of his head and slamming his face into the computer desk. Poe then grabbed DarkStar again, and slammed his face even harder into the drywall of DarkStar's apartment.
"NO! GOD IN HEAVEN STOP!!" DarkStar pleaded through broken teeth and busted lips, as Poe stood in front of him once again.
Poe stared at DarkStar, willing the whiny little bastard to be quiet. When he was satisfied, he spoke once again.
"The canon policy, as is properly understood and implemented by everyone with a functioning brain, is that the movies, scripts novelizations, and radio plays are canon. The EU materials are officially accepted Star Wars fact, where the do not contradict the canon."
DarkStar stared into the eyes of Poe, seeing the deadly evil menace behind them.
"Yes, yes..I agree." He cried.
Satisfied, Poe turned as if to go. DarkStar breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly Poe spun around, a ham sized palm slamming into DarkStar's face. DarkStar screamed, then turned to Poe again. Poe stared at DarkStar once more, daring him to retaliate. When none came, Poe backhanded the pathetic bastard again, watching DarkStar scream like David Spade on helium. He faced DarkStar once more, and waited. Goading him to take a swing. When none came, Poe spat in DarkStar's face, then stood his ground, stared again. Nothing. Disgusted, Poe turned and walked away.
As he did, the man called Wong walked over, and stood over the shaking excuse for a man.
"The Death Star," Wong began, "Has the ability to destroy a planet.."
"Through a special chain reaction, which we see when it fires on the unshielded surface of Alder.."
Wong walked over to DarkStar's computer, and ripped the keyboard from the tower. He advanced on DarkStar, who back away, limping toward the back wall of his apartment. Wong swung the keyboard, connecting with DarkStar's already ruined face, then proceeded to beat the cowering, screaming man with it until only a few pieces of the keyboard were left.
Dalton walked over and pounded to bat into DarkStar's ribs. Poe came over to deliver a few well placed devastating kicks.
"PLEASE! PLEASE STOOOP!" DarkStar screamed again.
Poe and Dalton withdrew slowly, and walked toward the front door. Wong crouched near the fallen asshole. DarkStar stated into the eyes of his superior.
-- WeeMadAndo Blue sparks and white smoke, the two most expensive components of any electrical system. Once you've used them, it costs a fortune to replace them.
You not only double-posted, but you made ole' Robert Scott sound almost human. Can't you make him more a goon? I /almost/ felt sorry for him reading this post, getting ganged up by the "Evil Warsie Conspiracy" (as he would call us) for having a different opinion over ST versus SW (though his position is totally sick.) At least make him form his stupidity into some kind of spiritual weapon or some other such shit, so it'll sound proper to kill him :-)
> >Damn no entombing him while he was still alive?
> ...yet.
Even if Poe did it DarkStar would turn out to be some creepy slasher flick villan who mysteriously keeps coming back no matter how many times you kill him....wait that's what he already is.
"Kazuaki Shimazaki" <krasn...@netvigator.com> wrote
> You not only double-posted,
It was my evil twin! I swear!!
> but you made ole' Robert Scott sound almost > human.
Whoa, whoa, whoa...I never mentioned anyone named Robert Scott in the story. This is about someone named DarkStar....
;)
> Can't you make him more a goon? I /almost/ felt sorry for him reading > this post, getting ganged up by the "Evil Warsie Conspiracy" (as he would > call us) for having a different opinion over ST versus SW (though his > position is totally sick.) At least make him form his stupidity into some > kind of spiritual weapon or some other such shit, so it'll sound proper to > kill him :-)
Actually, I wanted to present the closest depiction to DarkStar as we can get from his posts. But anyone here is perfectly welcome to add to the story!
> "Kazuaki Shimazaki" <krasn...@netvigator.com> wrote <snip> > Whoa, whoa, whoa...I never mentioned anyone named Robert Scott in the story. > This is about someone named DarkStar....
> ;)
You are not fooling anyone and you know it :-)
> > Can't you make him more a goon? I /almost/ felt sorry for him reading > > this post, getting ganged up by the "Evil Warsie Conspiracy" (as he would > > call us) for having a different opinion over ST versus SW (though his > > position is totally sick.) At least make him form his stupidity into some > > kind of spiritual weapon or some other such shit, so it'll sound proper to > > kill him :-)
> Actually, I wanted to present the closest depiction to DarkStar as we can > get from his posts. But anyone here is perfectly welcome to add to the > story!
Oh well, too bad I am a poor storywriter, PLUS have no experience in TGOD. I was just thinking at least he could fight back a little.
> > >Damn no entombing him while he was still alive?
> > ...yet.
> Even if Poe did it DarkStar would turn out to be some creepy slasher flick > villan who mysteriously keeps coming back no matter how many times you kill > him....wait that's what he already is.
> "Weapons do not penetrate armour based on force and pressure" > - IXJac(taken from SB.com and SD.net)
> "I'm a genocidal maniac, hold me." > -Anakin Vader
Yes, but I figure if we at least seal him up alive (Ala the other Poe) you have a few tons of Masonry and Concrete for him to wear down his fingers clawing through to get to his computer.
> 203 N. 39th St. > Hattysburg, Mississippi, 10:55pm.
Tell me that this address is genuine...
We must continue compiling the addresses of trolls.
-- WeeMadAndo Blue sparks and white smoke, the two most expensive components of any electrical system. Once you've used them, it costs a fortune to replace them.
>> > > 203 N. 39th St. >> > > Hattysburg, Mississippi, 10:55pm.
>> > Tell me that this address is genuine...
>> > We must continue compiling the addresses of trolls.
>> Nope, this is a fictitious address.
>> But real ones have been posted...
>Such as at, I believe, the RSA FAQ.
If I were more motivated, I'd send whoever's maintaining that some stuff similar to what was done against Jones. -- SirNitram ASVS Small Gods Keeper and Amateur Genius
Uptight Christians pray for God to save themselves. Upright Christians pray for God to save others in need.
"And they say that a hero can save us, I'm not gonna stand here to wait..." -Hero
I had more though of it as a truck driving at high speed towards DarkStars house, whilst the Benny Hill or Surfin' Bird song is playing in the background, then about 30 Clonetroopers come out of the car, even though thats not possible, smash in the door, knocks out DS and throws him in the trunk.
> The black van slowed to a stop in front of the apartment house.
To paraphrase Sisko:
"And *that* is why you're not a sick, twisted bastard?"
My only concern in such a situation would be that you and Dalton's "Lump Club" status might provide you with shields against bullets, in the form of tons of lard. Of course, that will also mean you'll be advancing slowly, like some sort of human glaciers . . . so I'd have time to carefully aim for those two little neurons that you can only sporadically rub together.
> My only concern in such a situation would be that you and Dalton's "Lump > Club" status might provide you with shields against bullets, in the form of > tons of lard. Of course, that will also mean you'll be advancing slowly, > like some sort of human glaciers . . . so I'd have time to carefully aim for > those two little neurons that you can only sporadically rub together.
And how will you afford bullets for this imaginary gun of yours? You can't even afford to rent a video...
"Fans know who's really responsible for whatever real quality KISS had in their music, that's why they still remember me today from all over the world and care about me." --Vinnie Vincent
> > The black van slowed to a stop in front of the apartment house.
> To paraphrase Sisko:
> "And *that* is why you're not a sick, twisted bastard?"
> My only concern in such a situation would be that you and Dalton's "Lump > Club" status might provide you with shields against bullets, in the form of > tons of lard. Of course, that will also mean you'll be advancing slowly, > like some sort of human glaciers . . . so I'd have time to carefully aim for > those two little neurons that you can only sporadically rub together.
Don't you have some customers to support, phone monkey?
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