Mwc10: March: Pda: Entries

[WritersBlock]

MWC10: March: Pico Day Adventures

ENTRY THREAD

All official entries must be submitted here. No linking to your story hosted elsewhere. No discussion whatsoever in this thread. All discussion for this competition must take place in the: DISCUSSION THREAD.

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Welcome to the Pico Day themed writing competition for the year, where we all come together to write on all things Newgrounds related. To cherish in its characters and spawn new ideas from those with which we have identified ourselves with as "Newgroundsers".

DISCLAIMER

Please read through the entirety of the opening posts and familiarize yourself with the rules and regulations of this competition. All participants must comply to the rules listed below, as they are final. Failure to comply will result in disqualification from the current competition.

MWC10: March: Pico Day Adventures

Sounds kind of vauge, doesn't it? What is the central theme for this contest?

Well, this time around, we will have several themes to choose from in addition to the character implementations. So it's sort of a dual theme, one being a character restriction, and the other being a more generic or stylistic theme. The two should compliment each other and open things up for a diverse and interesting take on some Newgrounds characters in unforseen circumstances, to mix things up, so to speak.

As this theme revolves around the use of pre-existing characters, a fan-fiction theme of sorts, you will generally be rewarded more for originality in your use of the theme over anything else this time around. That, I think, is the real secret to good fan-fiction.

There will be three generic themes to choose from, four worlds, if you want to call them that, in which you can impose your characters and plot.

Sci-Fi Pico;
Victorian Pico;
A day in the life of Pico.

Now, when I use the name Pico, there will not be the forced implementation of Pico as the main character of every story, it is just the most identifiable character I have used to represent the greater body of original Newgrounds characters. This means you can write about Dad n Me. This means you can write about Alien Hominid. This means you can write about Castle Crashers or Bitey of Brackenwood or a number of other familiar characters.

This does not mean that you can delve into obscurity, write about your own characters or take any old character that has appeared on this site and place it in a different context. On another note, you're also open to write about members of the Newgrounds staff. The emphasis for this month is on Newgrounds. All our funding for these contests come from Tom/the Newgrounds store. This Newgrounds-centric competition is meant to come back to the core of what this site is about.

Now, the individual themes are quite open to interpretation, and could blur between eachother, but as long as you can identify one theme in your story, you're all good. Sci-Fi Pico can mean a story set in space or in a future earth or an alternate history steampunk world (which would blend with the victorian theme).

The victorian theme can adopt several aspects, such as a colonial American "Western" setting, not exactly the civilised manner and tone of a typical Dickensian Victorian realism (another angle you could take), or the gothic romance, although the styles are largely interchangeable, the era, as expressed in your piece should have a strong Victorian impression.

The day in the life of Pico theme was one Tom pitched for the competition. While it doesn't have a set genre or style, but rather a time frame to work on, the concept behind this theme is more in line of the flash fiction. There is the possibility to take this on a stream-of-consciousness route or to bring a post-modern realist perspective to characters typically placed in an action or comedic role. On another side you may want to push the characters into strange and unusual circumstances as one event spirals into another into another into another.

THEME RULES/RESTRICTIONS

1) You MUST have an identifiable Newgrounds character as your main character.
2) You MUST choose one of the three themes as your main theme and state this clearly when you submit your story.
3)Minimum word count: 1,000 words.
4) Maximum word count: 5,000 words.

DEADLINE

April 8th, 2010, MIDNIGHT Newgrounds time (ie midnight betweein April 8th and 9th).
NOTE: Deadline overlaps into the next month. This is because of the lateness of the start of this month's competition. In spite of this, it is still a short competition. This means you have to work fast!

PRIZES

1st) $30 Newgrounds store credit.
2nd) $30 Newgrounds store credit.
3rd) $30 Newgrounds store credit.
4th and 5th) Honourable mentions.

SUBMITTING

1) Post your stories in this thread.
2) Do not post revisions in this thread. They will be deleted.
3) You may submit one story only, one time. Posts will not be deleted at your demand so make sure your work is perfect before posting here.

MWC RULES

1) Contestants may submit exactly one entry. No more. Users found trying to smart ass their way around this rule will be disqualified from this and an arbitrary number of future competitions to be agreed on by the judges. (You are your alt and vice versa)
2) Users caught posting writings which they do not own will face imediate disqualification from this and any future contests. That means don't try to pass other's work off as your own, you will fail and we'll all hate you!
3) Users must submit on or before the given date. NO EXCEPTIONS!
4) You must follow the rules of this BBS. If you have a question about whether you will be breaking them, contact a moderator.
5) HAVE A BUNCH OF FUN! OR ELSE!

GETTING REVIEWS

The judges do not HAVE to review your work and give you a detailed critique, there are too many entries in most contests for that to be a plausible option.
You have the following options none the less:

1) I highly recommend that you review someone else's work, in that way, they may return the favor. ;)
2) There is both a writing club & and writing guild in the Clubs & Crews section which is there as an open forum for writers to post their work.
3) PM the specific person you would like to review your work and hope they will.
4) Post a link to a newspost on your user page which contains your story again, in either the discussion thread or at the end of your official submission in this thread.
5) Mingle with the people in the writing forum. It's the hip new place to be.

JUDGING

If you'd like to judge, feel free to volunteer by PMing WritersBlock. You must of course be well versed in writing and reading and judging fictional works. If you are still in your early years of high school, its probably better to wait a while and get your writing up to snuff. Judges can't be in it for the prizes, so don't get down if you aren't selected to judge.
If you really want to be a judge and haven't been accepted yet, the best way to be noticed as a good candidate is to review your fellow writers' works for them. Let them know how they can improve, what their weaknesses are, and what you enjoyed in a respectful well put way and you'll be one step closer to judging in the future.

Judges for this contest have not been decided yet. When five capable judges offer their services I will announce who they are in the discussion thread.

Furthermore, if you'd like to run one of these contests in the near future, please let me know so we can make arrangements, as this will probably be the last competition I organise for a while.

[WritersBlock]

JUDGING PROCESS

Users have requested in the past know exactly how contests will be judged. This is our attempt at being open with our process. If you have specific issues with the way we judge entries, you are encouraged to pm a judge. Posting in threads about the system used to judge pieces is off topic, so please don't do it.
Judges rank users on a 10 point scale. And then submit their results to the contest organizer, that's me. I then take the top five scoring submissions from each judge and give them a set number of points to eliminate any bias present from the 10 point scale. A judge who gives a piece his highest rating, gives that piece five points. The second highest piece gets four points and so on. Points awarded from judges are totaled and the user who has scored the most points is considered the winner. In the event of a tie, the averages of the 10 point scale results are used to break.
As a board of judges we attempt to read all submissions posted to the contest. In the event that there is unexpected turn out, we may move to a two phase system. The first phase is an elimination phase where stories are split up between judges, with overlap. Top scoring submissions from each judge make it into the final round of judging and we revert back to the system described in the previous paragraph for the final set of stories.
By submitting a story, you not only agree to abide by the rules and regulations of this competition, but you also agree to accept the terms by which we judge your piece. If you cannot do that or feel there need to be changes, you may PM WritersBlock.
Please note, judging may take a while. Please be patient.
LET THE CONTEST BEGIN!!! GOOD LUCK!

Protip: If you want to win, double return between paragraphs!

[munio]

A tale of two gentle... men?

Victorian England, a time of revolutions and grandeur. Technology developed fast and factories sprouted like mushrooms. It was the time of industrial revolutions; the work became dirtier then it had ever been before, but this is not the story of two ashen-faced coal miners; this is the story of two young entrepreneurs.

Successful entrepreneurs were able to buy houses mirroring this success. Some houses were passed on through generations indeed, and this particular house used to belong to such an old aristocrat, until he was bought out by one of the biggest military inventors: mister Andmé.
Miss Andmé had died when her baby boy was just three months of age. The death of this gentle women meant that the youngest member of this wealthy family had to be single-handedly raised by mister Andmé. It was not uncommon for the bourgeois to have a maid or nanny taking care of the bothersome pesky little heirs to the family fortune; however, the lord of this house took his parenting very seriously. He wanted to be a source of inspiration to the boy, a great example so that "Son" Andmé would be a near perfect copy of his father. The local villagers hoped otherwise.

The lovely Victorian house this infamous dad lived in matched the profession and character of its owner. What used to be a garden was now a minefield: every murderous machine was displayed in the garden, there was barbed wire, cannons and pit holes. The garden was far from beautiful; the place was horrid and evil and it could only serve a practical use, as was mister Andmé. No one, except his son, liked him. There were many reasons for this; first and foremost were his physical imperfections: the entrepreneur suffered from several mutilations, which he had obtained during one of the unsuccessful tests of a new kind of bomb. He hid his incongruous face behind a snow white mask. It wasn't big enough to cover his immense face, but it didn't need to be. The mask only had the tiniest of eye holes, which looked even smaller through the monocle he always wore with it. The expressionless skeleton stare was only part of the repugnant outfit. This man was a giant of a guy; he used to be of normal posture, he used to be called frail, but at that time didn't need to be virile. But, like his face, the failed bomb test had mutilated his feeble body into that of a giant. It was robust, muscular and bizarre, towering far above any men, both in size and in coarseness. This of course led to some practical problems: the only tailor skilled enough to supply this ungainly colossus with the suits he needed was only willing to make him with a single, seamless, one-piece purple outfit, to which he himself later added a deep-purple skeleton belt. The biggest contrast was the black top hat, which did not do a good job in fooling anyone that he was indeed a elite gentlemen.

Mister Andmé was waiting in his office inside the mansion. Like the garden, and unlike the rest of the house, it was fortified. The most cunning feature was a simple silver bell which, when rang, would signal the five, carefully hidden henchmen to kill everyone who was not dressed in a one-piece purple suit. The bell was not used very often - mister Andmé rarely needed assistance with getting rid of whomever he needed to get rid of - so it stood idly atop the cherry wood desk.

Knock
Knock
Knock
Knock
Four knocks, the great entrepreneur repositioned himself in his luxurious chair. He wasn't afraid of anyone; no one could scare him, but he did feel a little intimidated by the man on the other side, and even though he was barely one fifth of his size, he would not dare to challenge him.

'Come in' he said in a professional and serious voice. It went silent for moment, then he heard that his business partner tried to jump for the doorknob. The doorknob was placed higher than usual because of mister Andmé's size. A normal man could have reached it but if you're barely two foot tall this task is not accomplished as easily. He grinned; his servant was off for the day, and he did not intend to open the door himself, so he laid back in his chair and wondered what his partner would do to gain access. Behind the door a savage voice cursed and shouted in an somewhat alienated pitch; mister Andmé could hear ferocious beating against the door, and as he was wondering what would happen next, his grin widened.

The pounding continued increasing both in strength and in frequency; then it stopped, a final smash and a muted growl and the door stopped shaking. Then nothing, the purple giant squinted his eyes (although it could not been seen behind the skeleton mask), the animalistic mumble became softer, the visitor moved away from the door. Mister Andmé focussed his ears, his eyes widened when he realised that the sound he heard (a high-frequency tone getting louder) was best to be reacted to, fast! And so he dived underneath his desk -
no small feat for someone of his posture, because even though the desk had been designed to match the big man's proportions, it was still lifted several inches of the ground. The high frequency sharp note stopped, but was immediately followed by the sound of a gigantic discharge and the flash of an extremely bright pulse. Strangely enough there was no smoke and the purple giant got out of his makeshift bunker and inspected the damage; the wall to his left was penetrated by a perfect round hole. As he shifted his view to the right, he saw that the table had a half moon shaped cut out of it and was on the point of collapsing under it's own weight. The dark oaken door had lost its function as a barricade, even as a door since it too was perforated by a perfectly round hole, just a hole, no burn marks or any other sign of damage; just a clean cut. He remembered how great the weapon was that caused that carnage; he had attempted to get it on his last deal with its owner but that had been unsuccessful. As mister Andmé looked through the hole he found the aforementioned owner, jumped through the newly created opening, and in the same voice the visitor had used to swear and curse at the door he said: 'next time open, or I'll aim lower', after which he grinned, looking at mister Andmé's face. It was the world's second most intimidating smile and he was staring at the number one.

Mister Andmé called his visitor Hominid; not mister Hominid, just Hominid, because he didn't really know if "it" was human. The creature was about one fifth of his size, barely reaching two feet in height, and its low aggressive stance made it look even smaller than it was. He could have explained the yellow creature's massive strength and disproportionately large head the same way people explained his mutations, but that wouldn't explain the yellow antennas sticking out of its black top hat. The suitcase the Hominid was dragging behind him was larger and heavier than the thing carrying it, but, even though it contained a gruesome weapon, was not as deadly as its owner. No one quite knew where the technology Hominid carried came from, let alone where Hominid himself came from, but it was deadlier than anything mister Andmé had ever seen before, and great killing potential meant great profits.

[munio]

part 2

Mister Andmé waved his hand at the slightly damaged chair on the other side of the desk. He had stacked a number of books on it so that he and his business associate would be on eye level during negotiations. Hominid realised he was being followed as he climbed up the stack of books, finally sitting down on "the art of war". With an agile swing the yellow savage smashed his suitcase on top of the table. 'Here' he growled with an heavy accent of wherever it was he came from, 'Take a look'. While mister Andmé bent forward to see what was inside the suitcase, he snuck a look at the weapon Hominid had used to gain the access to this room. His look was immediately met with a ferocious hiss, even more aggressive than the alien's usual savage growling. 'Suitcase only' it hissed, hiding the gun beneath the table. So the biggest of the two focused on the suitcase again, knowing that if he as much as tried to touch it, he would have to fight to death to keep the finger in question.

Two metallic clicks and a soft creek as the lid opened and gave up its pearl. 'A truly fascinating piece of technology, my dear Hominid' mister Andmé said. He spoke in perfect English, without even the hint of an accent, which was yet another contrast between the small yellow wildebeest and the purple gentleman. A little sparkle appeared in his eyes as he looked at the item, which was undoubtedly capable of bringing death to a man, and perhaps even several of them! He tried to hide his enthusiasm behind his mask. 'And how would such a device work? What is it called? What does it do?' He knew what it did, it killed people, but he found the way in which a violent being such as Hominid said it very tantalising. 'It kills people' said the tinier monster, who wasn't able to hide his enthusiasm either, 'and trees, too, but mostly people'.

The first part of the debate was spent by Hominid explaining to mister Andmé exactly how the murderous machine worked. The main problem was the very limited vocabulary of Hominid; even a modern-day man would have had difficulty understanding just exactly how the chainsaw worked. Yes, the item was essentially a chainsaw; a murderous, three feet long, tree cutting machine with razor sharp edges that could decapitate humans and trees with the greatest ease. The main difference between this and the things lumberjacks would nowadays use to slay 5 story high sequoias, was that the thing Hominid had brought with him ran on human blood rather than petrol. Hominid tried to explain the size of the blood feast this would lead to, but mister Andmé didn't listen to those explanations and instead fantasized about all the things he could do with it, which made him drool a little, much to Hominid's amusement.

The debate heated up, and it was here that mister Andmé showed that he was both a sadist and a business man. The sounds of the discussion intermingled with the sounds of the slowly buzzing chainsaw, whose tank was slowly draining empty. The demanding party was nearly convinced; he only needed one final push and the deal would be sealed. The push came in the form of a police force, which planned on arresting either of the two debaters for several murders and other gruesome crimes, if only there had been more of them.

Moments after the leader of the group of policemen had demanded Hominid's immediate surrender, mister Andmé grabbed the chainsaw and requested a "test". It was remarkable that mister Andmé was able to say the word test since he was completely taken over by an violent rage. Hominid didn't even have to think before handing it over to the purple colossus. Mister Andmé had thrown off his monocle and high hat, and after an primal roar, which would trump a lion anytime, he bashed through the remains of the study door. His colossal body was waving the chainsaw like a child's doll when he charged at the outer door. He was still shouting as his elbow connected with the door behind which the 7 feet commander was waiting for him.

The commander would have made a very intimidating impression on mister Andmé if he hadn't been half his size or squashed beneath the kicked down outer door. He was the first to fall, the first of many.

Hominid stayed behind. He slowly slipped off his chair, took a big pile of money, which was stored in a non-Hominid-proof safe, and jumped through the hole in the wall to the outside world. He could just hear the grunts of the chainsaw, the maniacal laughter of mister Andmé, and the hysterical cries of everyone who had been foolish enough to try and arrest them.
Hominid knew what to do: he needed to get the hell out of there, back to wherever it was he had come from, and not come back until the giant was not swinging that chainsaw anymore. He could just see how son Andmé was also running out, armed with a slightly less dangerous but still inhumanely sharp knife. And under the sound of bones snapping and flesh being ripped, Hominid made off, never to be seen again.

[Fro]

Title: Tranquility
Word Count: 1,240
Genre: A day in the life of Pico

The screams echoed through my ears and pierced the inner sanction of my mind. I manage to pick my head up and take a gaze at my blood soaked hands. The dead bodies of my classmates and teachers were scattered across the floor.

"You have to push forward Pico... you can't give up now..."

And then I was running, running through a darkness that seemed to have no light, no exit, and no answer. The memories of my fallen friends raced across my mind with every step I took.

"I can't stop now... there might be a chance that someone else is still alive..."

Even though half an hour ago I was surrounded, with the voices of my peers, there was now nothing but distant gun fire and the occasional scream of pain.

"There has to be someone hiding somewhere... I know it..."

I continue to run through the agony and then I'm falling. I'm falling into the deepest pit of despair and blackness. I brace myself for the landing and suddenly...

"Pico! You're going to be late to school!"

I never seemed to finish the nightmare. The memories of the school shooting still haunted me to this day. It was a year after the event and at this pace I would never forget about it. I was the hero, though, I couldn't show that it had bothered me. People may not view me the way they do now if they knew how much it has affected me.

I managed to crawl out of bed and gather up some clothes that seemed to be clean. At least they passed the "smell the clothes" examination that I put them through.

"It's just another day Pico... just another day."

That's how I was living my life now. I had to take each day as it was because I never knew how stable I was going to be heading into the day or coming out of it. One slight event or situation in school could trigger the emotional response that made me race off to the restroom to cover my emotions. I proceeded to collect my homework and staggered down the stairs.

"God damn it Pico! I'm sick of you waking up for school late! This is at least the eighth time this month where I had to take time out of my busy day and run your lazy ass to school!"

She continued her tirade, but I managed to muffle out the rest of her griping. My mother had always been this way, but after my father passed away, there was nothing to stop her. She frequently complained and bitched at every single thing with which she found fault. Thus without my father here to calm her down, it was worse than ever. She found things to complain about during the entire trip to school and it was giving me a headache. She griped about my clothes and the fact that they were still dirty. She kept bitching about how I never seem to answer her when she spoke to me. To make things worse, when I did give her a response she said I was being a cocky bastard.

"You always have to get the last word in, don't you Pico?"

I just stayed silent. It was something that became my friend. Whenever something happened at school that reminded me of that event, or whenever something happened at home with my bitch of a mother, I would just lock myself away. I would put myself in a room where nothing could hurt me. It was just me and my thoughts. I became a professional at blocking out the real world and creating my own little universe. Even pros have off days where the smallest problem can creep through though.

"Get out of my car! I don't want to see your face!"

I was used to it, so it really didn't upset me all that much. I couldn't let it bother me anyway. I was in school now, where my peers and friends looked up to me. I had to cover up my real life with something fake, just so I could get by on a day to day basis.

"Hey Pico!" "What's up Pico!"

I gave them the generic "hey" and "what's up" back, but none of these people were really my friends. In fact I hardly had any friends before I became a "hero". I didn't feel like a hero though. There were so many people that I had to kill by my own hand. I keep telling myself that it wasn't my fault, that I couldn't help those people live, but deep down inside, it always came back to me. It was like I did something to deserve this eternal living hell, but, I had no clue what it is that I could have done differently.

"Dinngggg!"

The bell rang and I was late for class as usual. Unlike my mother, my teachers didn't care if I was a few minutes late to class. I always thought that I would enjoy some sort of special treatment from my peers, but, since I was never really liked all that much, I didn't want it just because I'd done some spectacular deed; even though said deed was nothing more than massive bloodshed. I wanted it because they liked me for who I was. I couldn't even move to another school if I wanted to, because of the big deal the news had made about it. I never watched the news itself but, I always heard bits and pieces of it.

"A student named Pico was one of the lone survivors..."

"Hundreds dead in small town school..."

I shook it off and walked into the classroom.

"Nice of you to join us Pico."

I found a seat in the back of the classroom where I could daze off if I chose to do so. The chances of staying awake were greatly stacked against me.

"Alright class, who can remind me of what we were doing yesterday in class?"

It was the same old bullshit that we always went over. I didn't need to listen so I went to Plan B. It was time to close my eyes and move on. It wasn't like they could fail Mr. Pico after what I've done for everyone. I closed my eyes and listened to some nonsense about multiplying apples at some apple farm. Slowly, but surely enough I was slipping away. Darkness engulfed my vision and then I was falling into a deep trance. Complete and utter blissful silence.

"So what's the story on this one? He just sits in the corner so empty... so... peaceful..."

"Don't be fooled by how innocent this one looks. He's the kid that shot up his school about a year ago."

The two men walked by the room, making their usual rounds. A child was sitting in the corner of a padded room strapped down with restraints. The room itself was almost completely white except for the red shade of his hair. His eyes were almost completely empty, but almost peaceful. It was as if he was creating a fake persona to cover up what was really going on in his head. On the outside there was an empty shell of a boy, but on the inside, nobody could fathom what was going on. To the men walking by it didn't matter though. It was just another day.

[Coop]

Maudlin Asylum - Will Cooper; 3,272 Words

Case # 623 - Doctor Charles Mansell

Mr. Pico

File opened 12th October 1852

In all my years of working in the profession, I have never come across a case so intriguing as this. The subject in question is a gangly looking youth, approximately five feet and eleven inches tall, pale complexion, with an unkempt shock of red hair. Beneath the boyhood that appears to be mentally present, the wild green eyes appear to be hiding something.

The patient came into our care on the 12th of October, having to be restrained by several orderlies from the asylum and as a result had to spend the first night here under restraint. The patient has clearly undergone a tough past, in order to drive some human being to this sort of end. The guards told me of a conversation with the local law enforcement, who brought him in, calling him a rabid animal, amongst other unsavoury titles. Below is my diarized record of my assessment of his case:

13th October 1852
My first visit to the patient was in a secure cell. A guard was present and the youth looked subdued enough, though his eyes seemed quite bright and attentive, in clear contrast to the stoic set of his face.

He had sustained quite a beating in order to subdue him, making me wonder about the state of the indiscretion committed. Bruising was quite prominent to the face and arms, where bare skin betrayed his wounds. He nursed a black eye and a split lip, though the nurse had done her best to clean up the blood stains, the patient still looked to be in quite a state. His body looked cold and resigned, as if accepting that a punishment was due unto him, but I could not take my gaze off his vivid green eyes.

Asking the patient, Mr. Pico a few short questions, he was largely unresponsive. This may be down to medicines administered, plus he may be suffering from some sort of concussion, judging by the state of the injuries to and around the head. We shall continue to monitor him, for a change in his attitude.

Meanwhile, I will investigate a little further into the circumstances surrounding his apprehension and his arrival at Maudlin.

14th October 1852
Having been informed that the sergeant in charge of the apprehension of the patient was not on duty yesterday, I returned to the police house and met with Sergeant Trevithick. The property was the home of one Doctor James Harrison and it appears that the young man had been in the employ there for some years now, as an odd job hand.

It seems that from the accounts taken from the butler and the maid, there was some sort of fracas, during which the Doctor was injured by Pico. The details were hazy, suffice to say that the maid ran screaming into the street and Constable John Mainwaring just happened to be proceeding by at the time. Rushing in, he attempted to break apart the scuffle and failed to do so, such was the frenzied nature of Pico's attack.

Constable Mainwaring rushed outside and blew his whistle for assistance, to which three further constables responded in short order. From their efforts to subdue the "miscreant", one of them sustained a broken nose. The sergeant turned up to bear witness to the end of this incident. A runner was sent to Maudlin and a carriage was dispatched to bring Mr. Pico into our care.

From the police report, it seemed that Sergeant Trevithick was keeping something back from me, as his explanation did not sit well, regarding the excessive use of force, judging by the wounds that the boy had sustained.

I asked for the address of the property and was given it, but was advised that the Doctor would not be there, as he is in the infirmary, due to wounds inflicted by Pico. I was somewhat surprised to hear this. My investigations could proceed from there, prior to my next meeting with Pico.

I took a carriage to the infirmary and eventually traced my way to the bed of the doctor. Aside from a large mass of bloody bandages on the side of his head, he looked fit and well. I approached him and introduced myself, stating my relation to the case in question. A hushed conversation followed and he recounted the incident from his point of view:

"I was working late - some colleagues of mine had been preparing some research that could have been a breakthrough to present to the Royal College of Physicians." I remembered attending one of their presentations previously. Quite interesting, but they were quite set in their ways, for enlightened men. "The practices of preventing patient deaths, due to the use of Chloroform or Ether to subdue the patient and a Carbolic Acid solution to sanitise the instruments prior to amputations could prevent the patient's death due to shock or infection. I had been studying some samples for my part in the work and required some more materials. As is customary, I dispatched the boy to fetch some more from the stores in my laboratory."

"And he always returned promptly with these, Doctor?" I asked, taking notes furiously.

"Of course. The staff have no place to be insolent, lest they feel the butler's belt across their backs! He returned without the chemical, so I told him to make all haste to the home of a colleague of mine and return with the chemical forthwith. I even wrote the little bastard a note, for his impudence." The Doctor shifted uneasily in his bed and I helped him regain his composure and comfort, so as not to draw attention to my presence.

"He returned in short order with a vial of Alcohol, which was not what I required. I am not a violent man, but the boy's insulting manner of failing me twice was the last straw. I called him back as I read the label on the bottle. He approached and I struck him myself, sending him sprawling. The next thing I know, the boy lunged, punching and scratching at me. This frenzied attack cost me part of my ear and gave me a nasty infection to boot!" Tears started welling up in the doctor's eyes and I urged him to stop.

"I have the young man in my custody now. I will assess him and treat him as I see fit. He cannot reach you here, Doctor. Try to get some rest." I lent him my handkerchief and he regained his composure, before thanking me and I left, more questions buzzing around my head.

That afternoon, Pico remained unresponsive to my questioning. I did not attempt to ask him of the goings on with the Doctor at this juncture. Perhaps he needs time to come to terms with what he has done.

17th October 1852
As I looked into the room where Pico sat, still restrained in a straight jacket and watched over by a guard, the look in his eyes remained. He still looked resolute to accept his punishment, but with a burning fire inside those ever watchful eyes. I walked in and asked the guard to wait outside, due to "new methods" that we were trialing.

I sat down opposite the young man, noting that his injuries were starting to heal and opened the file, which was growing somewhat. The weekend had given me some time to think over the case and I decided a new tactic was called for.

"So Pico, you do know that you're in a lot of trouble for what happened to Doctor Harrison?" I could barely contain my joy when he actually looked at me, as opposed to staring at a point, like a guard outside Buckingham Palace. "Yes, the police seem to think that this was an unprovoked attack and the way for you to go would be a trial and a lengthy spell in Pentonville. Of course, you could help yourself, by talking to me and telling me what happened."

Pico let out a sigh. "You don't want to help me. No one does."

"What makes you say that?" I closed the file in front of me and folded my arms.

"I'm just a boy from the workhouse. I'm a downstairs kid, that doesn't deserve any help, because it's beneath you."

[Coop]

"Well, how about this scenario, Pico? I spoke to the Doctor today in hospital. You did a pretty good job of biting through his ear, but something had to happen to make any person do that. I don't think he's telling me the truth and I want to know what you did... and why."

Pico just snorted at this. "You're not doing it for me. You'll give the same verdict and I'm as good as dead." Had his arms not been folded by the straight jacket, he would almost certainly have folded them in defiance.

"You seem to have had quite an education, Pico. Where did you learn such things?"

"Overhearing conversations, reading books, talking to people willing to help me, like the priest at chapel. Whatever I could do to learn, whenever I got the chance."

"I see. Why not just give me your side of the story anyway? It cannot make your predicament worse, unless you are hiding something." As I spoke, Pico returned to his impassive self, not answering my questions, unwilling to show any emotion aside from that within his burning eyes. I stood up and called the guard, who returned to the room.

"I shall take a break for a moment. Please look after our guest until I return." As the guard stationed himself in the room, I turned and left, making my way to my office, to clear my head and make some notes.

What is the young man planning? He seems set in his ideal of a fate of death, imprisonment or lobotomy, but his eyes seem to say that he is plotting perhaps a foolhardy escape attempt. He would not be the first.

I summoned a guard, who was dispatched to return Mr. Pico to his cell, in order that I could sleep on my findings.

19th October 1852
The morning reunited myself with Mr. Pico and he seemed much more willing to talk. My terms remained the same - the young man bound in his straight jacket, but perhaps the night had the desired effect and his tongue was finally loose.

"Good morning, Pico." I sat down before him and readied myself to take notes.

"Harrison was always absorbed in his work. I usually had the job of running around for him, gathering up materials that he needed for his experiments. I had been on the wrong side of his short temper before and I didn't like it. Pots of chemicals had been thrown at people, with little regard of what it would do to them." Pico's anger seemed to have been directed straight at the man and possibly with good reason.

"That night, he sent me out for some Carbolic Acid to cleanse his instruments. There was none in his store and none at his colleague's a few streets away. In order to pacify him, Doctor Smythe had given me a vial of Alcohol for the same purpose. Harrison even wrote me a note, suggesting that I couldn't get such a task done."

"What happened when it was not what he wanted?" I jotted the notes down and watched as Pico appeared to look increasingly uncomfortable in his seat.

"He got really angry at me for it. The alcohol was flung across the room and he was sure to call the butler for this. If I were to have a thrashing, I'd get one that I deserved. So I went for him. I was just sad that I only got his ear."

"And you tried to kill him?" I looked at the young man, who looked quite agitated during this process. Cutting the interview short was fast becoming a necessity, but I continued to listen.

"If I could have. The maid heard the scream and the butler dragged me off, before I could do too much to him."

"I think you need to take a break, Pico. I'll be back later on." I summoned the guard and beat a hasty retreat.

From my first few meetings with the young man, he appears to be highly disturbed. If I were up to making a snap decision, I think that the word "lobotomy" would be a very real probability. I think that over time, he may come to terms with this and just spend the rest of his days with us. Perhaps we shall find out more tomorrow.

*****

The ledger shut with a 'thump' and a young, red haired man turned his gaze upon a man with receding grey hair and a white coat on. He seemed quite fearful and was attempting to back away

"Thank you Doctor. You have been most helpful. All I needed was a chance to think, allowing me to see things clearly." Pico moved over the Doctor, as he cowered on the chair by the filing cabinet. As the Doctor breathed in, as if to shout, Pico brought the ledger across his face quickly, silencing him and sending the half moon spectacles across the room, where they broke on the wall. "Your book was very helpful. I only wish I had more time to enjoy it."

Pico quickly rooted through the office, taking a few miscellaneous items - a bundle of keys and a half empty bottle of gin from the lower drawer of the filing cabinet. He walked out into the corridor to begin his escape from Maudlin Asylum.

"You?!" Came a cry from his left and a guard lunged at Pico with his truncheon. Pico stepped aside from the flailing baton and caught the man's wrist. With surprising strength, he drove the man into the wall opposite, causing him to lose consciousness and fall to the floor. Swiftly, he grabbed the truncheon and made his way through the maze of corridors.

He came upon a locked door and systematically worked his way through the keys from the Doctor, before the lock opened under protest. Passing through the gateway, he closed it behind him "We don't want to cause a scene, some maniac could get out of here," he mused to himself, as he returned the keys to his pocket. Eventually, his trail led to the main reception area. As he peeked through the gate to the reception room, he saw that he was positioned behind a desk, which was currently occupied by a young woman, who was writing down something in a large book, oblivious to Pico's presence. To the right of his position, there was another burly looking guard.

Offering up a quick prayer to anyone willing to help him, Pico picked a key similar looking, but slightly different from the previous gate key. Almost soundlessly, the mechanism turned and unlocked. Leaving the keys there, to prevent unwanted noise, Pico placed the neck of the gin bottle in his hand and steeled himself.

Fortunately, the hinges were well oiled and the door swung open without a sound. Before the seated guard knew what was going on, he had been whacked on the head with a green bottle and a horrible ringing sound from the glass hitting skull caused the young woman to look around as the guard hit the floor. He looked at the bottle almost in disbelief and then knelt beside the guard's prone figure. Pico started thumping him on the head, with powerful strikes until the bottle shattered, sending the remnants of the gin and shards of glass flowing across the floor. At this point, with a satisfied grin on his face, he turned around and looked at the woman, the sharp edge of the bottle pointing at her.

"I have no qualm with you. Stay quiet and I will not harm you." He stood up slowly, dusting himself off and turned towards the door. As he looked towards freedom, he caught a glimpse of another figure in the reflection on a picture frame. In one very fluid motion, he turned, dropped to one knee and threw the bottle straight at the man standing there. The broken bottle pierced his chest and he looked at Pico, a wave of shock crossing his face as he backed away a few steps to the wall and slumped, sliding down the tiled wall.

Pico continued to the doors, pocketed the truncheon and made his way out into the London afternoon smog.

*****

[Coop]

That evening, Doctor Harrison settled down to bed on the ward. His wounds had felt much better today and he was hopeful that he would be discharged in the coming days. Finishing off the Times crossword, he put his paper to one side and placed his reading glasses on top of it. As the nurses came around on one last check, he settled down to the light sleep he had become accustomed to, with so many people on the same ward as he.

Soon afterwards, all was dark on the ward. The only sound was that of a well made pair of shoes walking slowly along the corridor between wings. The footfalls got closer, remaining at their steady pace, until they stopped adjacent to the bed. There was the sound of a few scuffed steps around the bed and the figure looked in close at Doctor Harrison, as he tried to sleep. Harrison opened his eyes, to be greeted by a smartly dressed young man, wearing a three piece suit. The person's unmistakable features stood out, highlighted by the moonlight - the shock of red hair and the bright green eyes, framed by a wide, menacing grin. Pico slowly placed a gloved hand across Harrison's mouth, to stop him from calling out and moved in close to his good ear.

"Sleep well, Doctor." In one fluid movement, Pico wrenched the Doctor's neck and there was a crunch. He stood up, admiring his work, pulling the sheet over the Doctor's face, out of some form of respect and turned to walk away.

20th October 1852
Perhaps it was an astute diagnosis from Doctor Mansell. Maybe I am insane. But if it were proven, what would have become of me? I would have been sentenced to a lobotomy and effectively killed. A dribbling invalid is no use to anyone, just a hollow shell, awaiting death.

I will of course have to change my name, to avoid detection. I will not be so stupid to release this to whomever finds this tome, but I will leave it to detail that the situation has now been brought to conclusion.

Perhaps I should set sail to America? What of Europe and the Far East? Perhaps it would be fitting to stay in London. Where, I cannot say, for I have not decided. As for what makes a man do certain things, one cannot say, for I am not a philosopher. I am merely the instrument that conveyed these events to their conclusion.

To that end, am I no more guilty than a smoking gun that starts a war?

Pico sat back, having finished writing. He gathered a few belongings together, the last of Harrison's money from the safe and read the last passage once more. As he read with a degree of satisfaction, he closed the book, donned the gloves and top hat that he had purloined from the wardrobes, along with the fine suit and stepped out into a new, dawning day.

[TeamXHawk]

Theme: Sci-Fi Pico
Word Count: 2,063

A tyrant's downfall

8th of April, 2030
It's dreadful. Every morning I wake up to this haunting chrome sky. I feel my soul getting darker and more deserted, like the world I live in, every day. Everyone and everything is overly corrupt. The few innocent citizens left in this town are hiding in their living-rooms. Each time I wake up, after I pick my gun from my nightstand I look out the window just to remind myself I stand out from the others and I shall fight for my faith until I die. I shall fight against Darnell's reign of terror and defend myself. It has been twenty years since the two of us left school, and ten years since he took over leadership of the NewGrounds City.

The stairs of the block that I live in were destroyed three years ago on a security raid. Since that day, I have had numerous close encounters with paranoid neighbors in the elevator.
The elevator reached my floor with its usual loud, discouraging break. Whoever the passenger had been, if there had been one, he or she did not appear to be armed, as there had been no gunshots yet. I was assured there was no danger when I opened the door and glanced inside. The lift cabin was empty. I pressed the button for the lowest floor and waited anxiously. Scarcely had the elevator slowed down when I pulled my gun out and pointed it at the door. I kept a mortuary silence. My descent had been interrupted at floor sixteen. Neither me, nor whoever it was on the other side of the black metal door acted.

I had started to grow impatient and wanted to press the button again, when a chainsaw sliced the solid door in half with a wild growl, almost reaching my face. Wasting not a second, I shot off the screws that held the elevator hatch and went out on top of the cabin. Looking down I saw a purple muscular figure coming in. Having a chainsaw for his forearm, a skeleton mask on his face and well over three times my body weight, that maniac was certainly a redoubtable opponent. I stuck my back to the wall. Dad looked up through the hatch and did not seem to notice me. Yet, he waited on in the cabin. I had to act. I pressed the power button on my gun handle. Within seconds my gun shape-shifted to laser mode. A shot at Dad's face was ineffective as his titanium mask repelled the shot. Every second was now critical. The maniac barred the hatch with his enormous hand. His suit was bullet-proof. A few inches from my right leg, the growling chainsaw cut through metal like butter once again.

"It is not over, Pico!", I heard the man bark, while I engaged on a climb to the upper floor. Opening the doors on the first floor, I found I had run into a dead end. Another purple, muscular figure, of less mass than the previous one was waiting in front of the doors, prepared to fight me. "Did you get him, son?", Dad growled from the lower floor. The son did not reply, but only snapped his neck and prepared to murder. I slid down the cable through the cabin hatch and onto the man with the chainsaw, causing him to lose his balance and fall, his figure blocking the door.

"It's now or never!", I told myself and shot through the chainsaw, which immediately caught fire. The son was alerted and came down the stairs. His confusion and struggle to rescue his father allowed me to climb back up and escape out the window of the first floor into the street.

I understood two cold-blooded beasts such as the two who had just attacked me had to have been ordered by someone to do so. It could not have been a security raid since, legally, the two were mere civilians. It had been personal. Could it have been him? Could it have been Darnell? I knew nobody else who would actually bother to have me dead. I had only been the victim in the past twenty years. I had only killed the ones who had tried to kill me.

The city centre was overly crowded, as usually. I walked through the suffocating crowd towards Nene's store. "Cosmetics Shop" was a good façade... mainly because nobody needed them those days. The store was empty. When I entered she saluted me cheerfully. I replied expressionlessly and asked her to direct me to the back of the store. She grabbed my hand and took me to the small control panel in the back. She typed in a code, opening a well camouflaged door in the wall.

"What brings you here, Pico?", she asked me in a sweet, compassionate voice. "Life is being rough on you again, isn't it?", she continued.
"The objective of my mission does not concern you, Nene. The only reason for I am here is weaponry. I will be fast in my choice. Don't bother chatting."
The affectionate smile on her face faded. The automated door closed, leaving the two of us in semi-darkness. A few seconds later, the pale showcase lights came on. The shopkeeper followed me quietly while I observed the wide variety of products.
"The one in the corner is a WK73 smart laser-beam gun. Its precision can be very effective in assassinations as well as close com-..."
"I know, Nene. Thank you.", I rudely interrupted her. I paid her the gun and headed for the exit when she spoke.
"Why are you so distant to me, Pico?", she said, taking a few gentle steps towards me. "Why won't you talk to me? You have been my client for years, after all.", she continued, reaching her right hand towards me and striking my cheek.
"I'm just a client. That's all. You know nothing about me, and I know nothing about you. I'd rather it stayed that way."
"I know Darnell wants you dead. I hope you can make it out of that one alive. Maybe you can change your identi-..."
"I've realized that myself. I'd feel relief to complain to you about the situation right now, but wouldn't it just make me more vulnerable?", I interrupted her again. "I appreciate your support, though. Is there anything else I might need to know?", I asked.
"No.", she said, her face suddenly turning dark and angry. She hit a button on the control panel and the Cosmetics Shop alarm went on. From that moment on I had seconds to escape the building. The automated door opened. When I went out, she was still standing there, in the middle of the room, with a cold expression. I ran through the shop and into the streets.

Security units could already be seen flying towards me in the distance. I ran as fast as I could through the crowd. Attempting to hide was hopeless. The identity chip implanted in my wrist would allow them to lock the target on me with precision. I crawled into the old sewer. Underground, I would be safe for long enough to think out an escape. I ran through the slosh, trying to focus on my plan and at the same time stay alert for any oncoming threat. No sooner had I decided to head towards Darnell's headquarters than the exit ahead exploded. They had started fire. Feeling an irritating powerful magnetic pulse, I ran back. The roof started cracking and collapsing. At that point, the street must have been almost completely evacuated.

All I had left to do was to face the security. Pulling my freshly purchased WK73 out, I crawled out of the sewer. The weapon handled smoothly. In my run, I locked on a distant moving target and set power to maximum. The beam tracked and hit the flying vehicle to a burning wreck. I was chased to a building. I entered and used the elevator to get on the roof. At that point, the real battle had begun. Fiercely, I put each unit down, one by one while jumping from roof-top to roof-top; taking advantage of the enemy's accurate but basic target system. Unlike mine, their shots were not smart. I reached a dead-end when the building ahead of me was set on fire by extensive shooting though.

[TeamXHawk]

Next, an awkward space ship was hovering above me. Multiple shots in the body had no effect on it. During the charge of its lasers I aimed straight at one of them. Activating my magnetic pulse shoes I shot and jumped back and off the building. The ship exploded with a deafening noise. I rolled around in mid-air and prepared to land. Ground cracked under my feet. A few meters away, Alien Hominid's parachute had opened too late.

Ignoring the disturbing image of the dead alien, I ran off to Darnell's HQ. A few minutes later, I had put down the main entrance doors. Inside the building there was a suffocating silence. It had been deserted. The white walls were covered with various posters and advertisements, as well as a long list of wanted men. Right there, head of the list was "Pico", without any other information, as if it was not necessary. At the other end of this vast hall there was a small history museum. Of all the exhibits, one grabbed my attention. It looked like a piece of what had once been the NewGrounds P-Bot. I examined it closely. If only that heroic warrior had still been alive, the NewGrounds city would be prosper. Then I remembered Tom Fulp, Wade, Stamper, Luis, everyone... the staff... nobody knew where they were. Pure anger was flowing through my veins. Yet, before I could make a move, the robotic hand shocked me with an offensive gesture. The gesture itself was not as shocking as the fact that the years old hand had moved. Suddenly, all the windows broke, creating chaos, forcing me to lie down on the ground in order to avoid being cut. I quickly glanced towards the hand. It had disappeared. I stood up and looked around. Coming through the main entrance was Darnell, riding on P-Bot's shoulder, who had just had his hand fly back in place.

"<<Never forget where you started>>, they say. That's why I decided to kill you", said Darnell with a smirk. "Behold what I've become! I can have anyone and anything under my control if I want to... even this rust bucket so dear to all you newgroundsers. I can order anyone's death or prosperity! Now to prepare myself..."

The leader drew a round glowing red chip from his back pocket which he pressed against one of P-Bot's eyes. The robot immediately started shivering. Red sparks were penetrating its body to the core. He was transforming. His system was malfunctioning. His hands fell off, uncovering two large beam cannons. Darnell knew my seeing the symbol of safety of NewGrounds perish into corruption would be demoralizing. This man expected me to lose my balance and attack mindlessly, giving in to evil desires. I did not want to fulfill his dreams, but my mind left me no other choice. For the first time, I put all my trust in my weapon and not at all in my technique. It would be a single, destructive shot that would end the pain quickly. I aimed and shot P-Bot's core. The robot was fatally damaged and exploded, dying, taking Darnell with him. I was thrown against the wall by the force of the explosion. I remember seeing P-Bot's eyes turning normal again for just one second before he blew up.

8th of April, 2031
A summer breeze blowing through my open windows woke me up this morning. I stood up and turned on the TV. The headline read "Pico Day". In the news, Tom Fulp, creator of NewGrounds and mayor of NewGrounds City was talking about the legendary battle that had taken place a year before. He talked about how the old staff returned after so many years of inactivity and about a recently found particle of P-Bot's old core which could help rebuild him in a matter of months. Interesting, what Tom was talking about, but I had no time to waste. I put on my suit and headed to the news studio.

[EchoRun]

Sci Fi Bitey: Space Friend

It was a calm evening, the sound of insects and night animals the only things to be heard through the relative peace of Brakenwood. Small, glowing insects danced and displayed themselves in the air, above slumbering beasts sheltering amongst the bushes.

The stars were bright, the moon large in the sky. While most things slept, those that were awake if they trained their eyes to the sky, would notice that one star was new. A star that was not a star, that, as the minutes passes started to move and grow.

In the quite of the night, a muffled boom sounds like very distant thunder, and a gentle breeze disturbed the otherwise still air. A shadow passed over the moon.

Hidden away in a hollow tree, a strange creature with brown furred legs, hooves and horns, slept. Bitey, as he is know, the fastest thing in all Brakenwood, dreams peacefully, for now.

Bellow the tree, a being emerges from the bushes, though it is like no creature that has ever been seen here before. A domed head, veined and creased hide with lights flickering on its wrist and waist. Any creature of intelligence would recognise its appearance as artificial, clothes the likes of which had never been seen here, in the woods.

The being steps foreword, looking around and pulls something from its belt, lights flickering all over it. Bending over to examine a small plant, it misses the stick hidden in the grass which breaks with a loud 'crack!'. It hesitates and looks around. After a moment a soft sigh escapes from beneath the big dome head and it bends back down to look at the plant.

Meanwhile, in the depths of the tree looming above, its lone resident snaps awake. After the initial surprise, a look of annoyance crosses his face. He pauses, waits, and when no further disturbance presents itself, he stretches and lies back down to sleep.

Crack!

Pale glowing eyes open and with a foul look Bitey darts down his tree to confront the noisy intruder.

Like a flash he reaches the bottom and emerging into the night, he spies not one of the various creatures and animals he is familiar with, but a large bulbous head disappearing through the bushes.

He stops.

This is new.

Annoyance fading to curiosity, he sneaks after the retreating figure, staying hidden as he watches

It didn't take long for curiosity to bleed into boardem. The creature was so slow, and kept stopping at every other plant and insect it saw! How dull!

Exasperated, board and annoyed all over again, Bitey glared at the stranger as it continued on, oblivious.

As for the stranger, he was having a wonderful time! So many new types of plants! So many fascinating life forms! Spotting a small ground level flow he bent down to investigate, hold his hand held scanner close to get a reading.

So fascinating, such interesting- Ow!!

A rock, about half the size of his fist bounced off his back. Standing, the stranger staggered forward in shock, only to hear, to his dismay, a slight soft crunch underfoot as the little flower was crushed. Stepping back hastily, the stranger bent to assess the damage to the plant, deaf to the muffled sound of disbelief and frustration behind him.

"Ow!!" Another rock slightly larger then the last had sailed through the air, hitting squarely on the backside. Finally disregarding the plant and nursing his injured anatomy, the stranger looked around him, holding up his hand held device.

Bitey observed the stranger. Ah, this was better! Much more interesting! As the stranger waved the hand held devise about, then pointed it steadily in his direction, Bitey tensed, ready for action. He had no idea what that thing did, only that it did something. Still, he was the fastest thing on this planet, he could out run anything! What did he have to fear?

The device the stranger held let out a small, unassuming beep and Bitey almost scoffed. Is that it?

Suddenly a white flash dazzled him and his final thought before falling unconscious was a very inelegant equivalent to oh crap.

***************

Noises... no, voices... voices? What?

Blearily, Bitey opened his eyes, for what was technically the third time that night.

Shimmering light filled his vision and it took a little while for his brain to sort our the strange and alien sight. A box! It was a box made of light!

Startling, Bitey leapt up only to collide with the back of the light box. It made his skin tingle and his fur stand on end. How infuriating!

The box was in a long metallic passage that reminded Bitey of some of the caves he had explored before. He didn't like caves much, not enough room to move. He still didn't like them now, and what was worse, not only was he inside a cave like place, but he was in a BOX in a cave like place. Unacceptable!!

Before him, four of the strangers stood, the same bodies but instead of the domed helms, now he could see their faces. Large bright orange eyes stood out against olive skin, thin wispy white fur covered their scalps, and long thin ears swept back just behind their eyes. As they spoke to each other, they revealed sharp needle like teeth.

They kept waving devices around, pushing buttons, talking to each other, pointing things at him. And Bitey was trapped. Trapped. In. A. Box.

No. No. Not him. Not trapped. He couldn't be trapped. No!

Fear crept through him, as his breathing and heart rate increased, eyes darting around frantically, looking for something, anything, to use to get out.

As his panic grew, the strange beings before him began talking faster, gesturing to their devices more, pulling out different objects. One of them pulled out a long stick with a fine point at the end then waved a device at the light box.

To Bitey, it was like watching everything in slow motion. First the device bleeped and then the light began dim at one corner and the dimness spread leaving empty space in it's wake. A way out.

Fast as thought, he was out, the strange aliens barely moving in comparison, until he knocked them and their devices out of the way, sending them skittering in all directions. The long pointed stick caught one of the aliens in the side - he dropped instantly.

Bitey darted away before any of them could react, past many more light boxes filled with all sorts of creatures, large and small. A few he recognised, while others were completely unknown to him. All of them were asleep.

A door loomed ahead and just as he was about to race through it, another alien appeared through it. Hooves slipping on the smooth floor, Bitey had no choice but to go careening into it, sending both of them slamming into the opposite wall to land in a heap.

Shaking his head to clear the stars, Bitey too stock of the alien he had crashed into. This one was small, half Bitey's size. It had brown fur not white, it's skin more tan then green.

As Bitey carefully extracted himself from the wall and the alien, it gave a soft moan but didn't move. He allowed himself a moment to look it over. Was it a child? Possibly. Was it hurt? That question troubled Bitey more then it might have before. Perhaps it was because he was in such a state himself at that point. Then again, perhaps it was because despite how things had played out thus far, he recognised something in them, an intelligence the same as what he himself had.

Cruelty would seem easy to him, to lash out was easy. But he had seldom killed and never intentionally.

Was the child badly hurt, because of him?

Behind him there were sounds of commotion has his captors began to catch up with him.

Not quite knowing why he was doing it, he carefully gathered up the child and took off at a more restrained speed to the right. Doors, corridors and rooms flashed by. Even at this more sedate run everything flickered past so quick and bitey kept having to double back and change direction. This place was a maze and everything was so small!

The child in his arms started to str, and with something akin to relief, he ducked into a room and pushed the door closed behind him. He still hated the confinement, but if he was going to be standing still, even for a short time, he might as well hide himself from view.

[EchoRun]

It was dark in here, a couple of squares on the wall glowed dimly, but that was it. Gently he set the child down and its face creased into a frown. It tried to sit up and winced. It's large eyes blinked open then fixed on Bitey. Bitey stared back.

The child said something to which Bitey blinked. Was that a hello?

Blinking it looked around the room that Bitey had brought them into and gasped. Another string of sound escaped its mouth, more urgent and surprised sounding. Bitey blinked again. Was there something wrong with this place? Was there something here?

Curious, cautious, Bitey stood up and began to look around. It was a small room, not much bigger then where Bitey slept. There were things mounted on the walls and things propped up.

The child said something again then wobbled to its feet. Bitey surprised himself by reaching out to steady it, letting go hastily once he was sure it was stable.

Bitey watched, curious as the child walked to a wall and pulled on an indent revealing a hidden space. It pulled the try right out revealing the things displayed on it. Items of similar design but different sizes were all arranged neatly. The child talked a little, presumably telling him what these things were. A shame he could not understand it.

It pushed the compartment back into the wall. Then pulled out another. Again, items of similar design to each other, just different sizes. The child talked about these too.

Faced with a monologue he couldn't understand anyway, Bitey's attention wandered to the rest of the room, to the things hung up and propped against the wall.

Unhooking on item, he turned it over in his hands, moving bits around as he found them. Suddenly, the thing started humming and Bitey dropped it in alarm. The child, alerted by the clatter, trotted over on wobbly legs, saying something quite loudly and instantly. Bitey quickly tuned out the chatter, but watched very intently on what the child was doing with the device. The was it held it, which bits it moved or turned or pressed and what the device did in response. Then when the child pointed it at a patch on the floor and pressed something, Bitey was both startled, intrigued and delighted as a flash emitted from the end of the thing and the bit of floor it was held against, melted.

A surge of wicked glee filled him, and Bitey grinned.

***

And so, some time later, when the door of the engineering supply room was kicked open from the inside, it was not just Bitey of Brakenwood that emerged. Rather, it was Bitey armed with a Mettle Melter in one hand, a Lightning Maker in the other, a line of Exploding Powder Balls tied across his chest, a string of Dazzling Rocks looped around his waist, Wall Walkers attached awkwardly next to his hooves, and a Mettle Bug Controller strapped to his head.

And, just incase that was not enough to alarm, the once pristine room he left behind was full of fine white dust, melted and mangled metal, a bit of smoke, rubbish everywhere, and was full of the sound of hissing and sparking electric and the giggles of an overly amused child.

The wicked grin on Bitey's face would have been enough to send any denizen of Brakenwood that had ever encountered or even just heard of Bitey running for cover. But these aliens did not know Bitey and his grin stretched a fraction wider.

After all, they had dared to try to trap him in a box. Him! In a Box!

No one did that to him.

***

An alarm was sounding through the ship. Where had it gone?! They had security footage of it running through the ship but it moved so fast and changed direction so often it was difficult to sort through it all. A sense of urgency had overtaken the room as not only had the creature escaped and was running wild on the ship but it had taken and possibly injured the chief Scientist's daughter as well!

But finally, they had narrowed it down to one corridor, containing four supply rooms. Nothing dangerous thankfully.

As the crew advanced down either side of the corridor, checking the supply rooms on either end, the door to one of the engineering storage rooms slammed open. There it was.

The crew in the observation lab and the ones advancing in the corridor stopped in disbelief at the sight before them. Impossible! There was no intelligent life on this planet!

Bitey eyed the aliens at either end of the corridor. It would be so easy now he had all this! So slow...

He startled as the small gasp behind as the child peeped out from the ruined store room to pear down the corridor at her fellow aliens. One of them called out to her, but she shouted back and ran forward, to hold on to Bitey's leg. He froze.

Shocked, looking down at her huge yellow eyes and smiling face, he almost missed when the first of the adults tried to subdue him, firing some sort of dart at him. He ducked and she screamed. Quickly he looked down at her, then at her advancing fellows and made up his mind.

Pushing her flat against the wall out of the way, he leapt up, avoiding another spray of darts and shot his Lightning Maker at one of the lights embedded in the ceiling making it explode in a fountain of sparks, blocking one advancing party. Doubling back, he rushed headlong into the next group, and as the reached for him with the devices, he fired his Mettle Melter, again and again, dodging and weaving, until all their tricky machines and their mettle boots were pinned to the floor or the walls. Shouts sounded behind him as the sparks ceased their cascade from the ceiling and the way was opened again.

The little girl was watching him, excitement clearly visible on her face as she watched. Bitey looked at her and in a move already practised from their 'play' in the store room, moved to cover his face with his arm and she, squealing with delight, ducked down and covered her face with her hands.

Unhooking a couple of Exploding Powder Balls and a Dazzling Rock, first Bitey slammed the Rock against the wall so it cracked and began to spark, then he threw it up into the air over the advancing aliens. It exploded in a flash of brilliant light and as it did so, he clicked the Dust Balls together too and threw them. Fine powder exploded from them, covering everything. Blinded, disorientated, coughing and sneezing, the second party were just as helpless as the other ones who has been welded to the floor.

Bitey rushed over the happily giggling child and swept her up, leaping over the fallen attackers and away.

Laughing, the little girl pointed down corridors and he followed her direction, not even minding that he had to slow down for her to register where they were. This was so exhilarating!

Finally she pointed to a door, "Tat! Tat!"she cried, which Bitey had taken to mean 'there'.

Inside was a what he could describe as a mettle insect, a really big one, almost as big as the girl. She reached up from where he held her and pushed some buttons on the device he wore on his head. The insect bleeped to life.

***********

The science ship was in an uproar!

Not only had one of their field explorers mistaken an intelligent creature for a simple animal, they had also brought it aboard the ship. Said creature had then escaped, taken one of the children hostage, destroyed most of the equipment in engineering store room 5D, then used more of the equipment as weapons, done a supriseingly good job of disabling the two teams sent re-capture it and the child (no major injuries, thankfully), and then it had somehow managed to gain control of one of the driods and was running rampant making an utter mess of the ship! An utter catastrophe!

It wouldn't be so bed, IF they could get the child away from it. They had an emergency teleportation unit, but as it operated over a certain areas they had to get her away before they could use it.

But they had a plan.

So far the creature had been lured to the medical bay, using some of the scans taken from it at first capture, the doctors had improvised a drug to slow it down. If it works they could separate them and get that thing off the ship!

Anxiously, the captain watched from the viewing lab as the trap was set.

***

[EchoRun]

It was a white room. A white room with blocks and beds and... and... things. Bitey wasn't she what to make of half of it, but his little companion wasn't complaining so he assumed they weren't dangerous.

Slowly he approached a many limed thing in the centre of the room. Bitey took an instant dislike to it - it looked like a spider!

Ordering his new drone to destroy it, Bitey didn't see the small device on the side start to flash, nore did he hear the first hiss. But when he started to feel dizzy, he looked around. What was happening?!

Suddenly the thing on the table exploded, filling the room with a pale steam. Choaking, Bitey dropped the girl and begun to shake. Alarmed, the child began to cry. Both were so upset and preoccupied that neither noticed when a guard snuck into the room. He snatched up the girl and fled to the door.

Alarmed, upset, Bitey tried to follow but stumbled and fell, still shaking.

Suddenly, the air began to crackle, medical objects began to rattle on the tables, and Bitey felt is fur stand on end as a feeling of dread over came him. Looking over to the door as the Guard took his crying friend away, Bitey gave one last valiant effort to rise as the world begun to faid into light.

***

It had been three months. Bitey had withdrawn into himself for a time, haunted by what had happened. He could almost have dismissed it as a dream, were it not for the items that had been sent back with him. All the items he had worn, but not the drone. He had not used them since he had been sent back he hid them instead. It was easy to say it was because he did not need them, but that was not the real reason, not when he kept returning to them, just to look at them.

A friend. He had had a friend. And lost her. It was almost too much.

Two more months passed and he finally resolved to stop visiting the relics of that strange night. On his last visit, he sat for a long time, just thinking. All night he sat in the have he had prepared especially for the items looking at them. As dawn broke, he rose to leave, for the last time. Then he stopped.

Bleep.

Looking back, he could hardly dare to believe it.
Bleep.

The light on the control device for the droid flashed.

Bleep.

Walking hesitantly over to it, Bitey touched the flashing button and a voice filled the cave, a little girls voice he hadn't dared hope he would hear again.

FIN