"I pity the fool," A figure emerged from the darkness. "Who don't die quickly!"
Kerish and Fartface looked around as the Necromancer advanced. F paled considerably and went to hide behind Kerish. The man had a rather threatening form, it had to be said. He was fairly tall and muscular...oh, and he was a self-claimed demi-titan-god. He also had his own gang down in Newport. Anyway, on with the story. "Anyway, this cake is great."
Kerish pulled out the cake this entire heist was for. "It is so delicious and moist." She agreed with a slight nod, sounding as though she was going into a trance.
Mr T arched an eyebrow. "You won't get away with stealing the Grande Cake. Your heist was pointless. It ends here, fool!" He said as he pulled his medallion free from his waves of chest hair. Shadows curled around the medallion and fired at Kerish as a piston of darkness. It hit her square in the chest, causing Mr T to notice her fantabulous cleavage, and threw both her and F backwards and into the side of the giant furnace. Kerish groaned as F pushed her off him and tried to crawl away, but the shadows snagged his ankle, dragging him back and holding him in the air.
"Please! Have mercy!"
Kerish pressed a button that was conveniently placed by the furnace and suddenly Mr T was surrounded by samurai and ninja cheerleaders. They pounced and the Necromancer was forced to throw F away and defend himself from the long phallic blades of the samurai and the annoying chants of the ninjas. A blade snicked his stomach and he attempted to punch the samurai, who jumped out of range with a wicked laugh. Mr T groaned as his fist accidentally hit a ninja. He was happy with that. He was ready to stab a bunch of samurai with shadows when a terrifying noise stopped him-out of curiosity rather than fear-and he saw the robot shuck the skin that used to be F, showing its true form as a giant battle robot. Now shit was getting serious. He stabbed some samurai and ninjas with his shadows and took off his jacket-shit was really getting serious-and swaggered towards the robot as it opened fire with some missiles. Mr T rolled out of the way, getting a little burnt. They weren't heat-seekers, so he was okay. The robot sent a barrage of potato batteries at him-luckily he jumped over them-and even threw a whale and a semi-truck. It was pure luck he survived this bit. When the whale hit him he was thrown back and ended up with broken ribs and arms and in a pile of dirty nappies. The semi-truck would have landed on him, but first it hit the whale, breaking all the windows and one of the doors off. Then it hit Mr T, but landed so that nothing hit him, as he was enveloped in the part where the door used to be. He looked up through his eyes, now with blood in them, and wondered how to continue. A glove box opened, and there was a conveniently placed self-destruct device for F the robot...also a candy cane, which he pocketed for later.
Mr T pulled out his Necromancer robes-a hoodie and some jeans-and walked down the narrow walkway between the chip shop and the burnt out gypsie hut. It was a dark and stormy night...okay, it was dark and there was a light smattering of rain and ninja ribcages, but the point still stands. Anyway, he walked at a leisurely pace, joined quickly by his resurrection companions Lenny and Superwaffle. Lenny spoke with a thick Russian accent and was married to a woman named Scarlett (no relation to Scarlett Discord, but she could hold twice the amount of vodka than any man), and Superwaffle was from Canada. They both knew a fair bit about resurrection, and hopefully together they could bring this guy back without having to resort to nasty bodies of decaying rot known as zombies. This man certainly wouldn't thank them for making him a zombie.
The site was a hill. Lenny was eating chips. Superwaffle was playing with some sticky stuff T believed to be tree sap. Mr T was working on the resurrection by himself, frowning at the lack of help from the others he was reluctant to call his friends. He had the mottled and mutilated body of the man they wanted to bring back-they had been a group of six in the war-and all was in place. Sandy wasn't going to turn up, that much was obvious. Lenny claimed that Sandy was dead anyway. Mr T wouldn't be surprised if the truth was that he had murdered him.
The body sat up and looked at its hands. "Oh fuckin' great!" He roared out in a strong Scottish accent. He had just finished helping that Dorado guy who looked like stupid Borealis. He looked up from his already rotten body and found those people he had fought alongside with Riordan Mirage and Sandy Milschman in the war..."I want to be dead again..." Fred Mould mumbled.
Bayside wasn't happy to see them. "You vant me to give over the location and contact details to an old friend of mine?"
Mortis nodded. "Yes," he replied with an innocent smile, "Drakon."
"The answer is no."
"Drakon is a secret-keeper, and I am his. I am a protector, and while all other protectors have died defending secrets and relics, I remain to protect this one...especially after that failure with the amethyst..." He gazed out the window, lost in thought. Ursa shook his head.
"We're on par with Hiro Phantasmagoria. He's a Protector, remember?"
"He was let go for his psychopathic tendencies."
"But you're friends!"
"Nein! I am friends with nobody!" He stormed through a door and the three killers followed. Mortis was whistling 'Be Back Soon' from Oliver. Bayside hated that song. So did Jayden, actually, but neither of them said anything. Jayden shook his head.
"You're as against the Faceless Ones as we are! Surely that's incentive enough to help us! We have the noblest of intentions!"
Mort snorted with laughter. Jayden shot him a look.
Absurdity shook his head. "Noble or otherwise, I do not spill my secrets. I am a Protector!"
Ursa rolled his eyes. "Nobody cares, Bosch. We're tryin' ta save the world here."
"I cannot assist you."
Mortis found a filing cabinet and proceeded to break into it. It was like picking locks of a box on the docks in odd socks. Not like taking candy from a baby though. Completely different prospect. Mort had taken candy from a baby before though. Much simpler to pick a lock. Or a rock. Or an embroidery off a sock.
Bayside's body was found by Geraint Mizzle. His short form had been crushed beneath his filing cabinet, which had a rabbit living in one of the drawers. Mortis had licked the lock as well as picking it, and taken Bayside's files on Drakon. Geraint swallowed. He had come to tell Bayside that Chrysander Ordinance was waking up. Geraint's boyfriend. And now, his doctor was leaking blood out of his ear holes...if he wasn't such a tiny midget of a man, he'd have survived...
((Ladies and mentlegen, this story was written with assistance of my brother, who owns Lelenny Manne and Mr T the Necromancer...Scarlett the Russian Woman doesn't belong to me either...also Geraint doesn't. Aaaaaanyway...oh God I've got a lot to read when I get back from these next few days away...))