Furniture Warriors PART TWENTY-TWO: When Titans Tussle OR What I Wouldn't Do For A Plate of Mexican (Formerly) A Spoof Chase Production NOW An ImproFanfic Production (http://pixelscapes.com/improfanfic) A Furniture Warriors ImproFanfic Created by Stefan "Twoflower" Gagne. This Episode by Scott Stockton (who really wishes he'd come up with some cool alias instead of using his real name). (All characters copyright Nihana-san, obviously. If I ever even considered claiming that these were my own characters I'd probably be thrown into a small cell where I'd be forced to eat my delusions of grandeur to live.) -- -- -- -- -- -- Previously on Furniture Warriors: Ikea, under the guidance of Queen Radiance (who is quite possibly the nicest person to ever teach shop class) constructed a new chair with which to battle Marlo. Hugh attempted to leave the Vortex Chamber, but he proved no match for the wily death traps installed therein. Harry simply smiled to himself and continued to play in his own little fantasy world.. Fifi (the original Fifi, that is; accept no substitutions) met Queen Radiance and learned of a method to regain access to FurnitureSpace. Enlisting the help of Rebecca, her ally-turned-enemy-turned-ally, she set out to find Dr. Shockwave and the (deep ominous voice) Flaming Guacamole of Doom (/deep ominous voice). Shelly also fell victim to the Ottoman Dimension's less-than-stellar maintenance crews and found herself trapped with Harry and the now extra-crispy Hugh. Lumi-chan, aka Dark Queen Irradiance, continued to search for ice cream. At the suggestion of Dr. Pfischer, she set out to find Marlo and wrest from him the means to make her own ice cream. Marlo prepared to resume his battle with Ikea, talking smack, posing up a storm and just generally gloating. Just as the two were about to begin their fight, Dark Queen Irradiance arrived, intent on dishing out some pain of her own. And so it was that Ikea and Dark Queen Irradiance found themselves fighting side by side in the greatest battle of their entire lives Or maybe not... -- -- -- -- -- -- Facing off against Ikea, Marlo took a rather unusual offensive strategy. He rammed his head onto Ikea's chair, smashed his torso against it, even pummeled it mercilessly with his face. That is to say, he was completely worked over. Ikea knew full well that he could have pressed his advantage. Caught off-guard as he was, Marlo was a sitting duck. Well, more like a beaten, dizzy, bleeding from the face duck, but you get the picture. It would have been child's play to finish him off. Of course, honorable furniture warriors frowned upon such tactics. To even think of doing such a thing made Ikea feel impure. Yet, a small corner of his being urged him to do so, prodding him to take the easy path to victory. His moral dilemma was solved when Dark Queen Irradiance smashed a black light tube over his head. "It's bad enough you took all my ice cream, but now you're trying to steal the ice cream maker too!" Dark Queen Irradiance hit him with another fluorescent light tube. "I'll never forgive you! Never never never never never!!" Ikea turned, instinctively seeking to console his distraught sister. No sooner had he done so, however, than a thrown footstool struck him in the back of the head. "That'll teach you to turn your back on Marlo!" Just barely sporting the trace of a frown, Ikea steeled himself up for a long and painful ordeal. -- -- -- -- -- -- Rebecca was not at all comfortable with the turn recent events had taken. It wasn't so much having to work with Fifi that annoyed her. It made keeping an eye on her nemesis that much easier. Besides, getting her weapon back was a much more important and pressing matter than revenge. No, the problem that had her distressed was the complete and total lack of any direction to their search. The two of them had been wandering aimlessly for the last few minutes, trying to think of some way to begin their quest. "So, do you know where this Dr. Shockwave is?" "No," answered Fifi. "What about his connection to the Flaming Guacamole of Doom?" "I haven't a clue." Rebecca "Do you even know what he looks like?!" Fifi let out a weary sigh. "My dear Rebecca, you simply can not continue to make such outbursts. They most certainly aren't lady-like, and they don't help one bit." Rebecca gritted her teeth in silent frustration, dreaming of new ways to make Fifi suffer once she got her weaponry back. Her current favorite was to dip her into a pool of boiling acid filled with piranhas. For her part, Fifi wished that Hugh would return from wherever he'd gone. At least his annoying comments were easier to ignore, and he could be counted on to help. Well, usually. Putting his abandonment out of her mind, she busied herself thinking of cute frilly outfits to dress up Rebecca. All in all, the two made the most disfunctional search party to roam the hallways of the Ottoman Stronghold for quite some time. -- -- -- -- -- -- As it so happened, Dr. Shockwave was currently recuperating in a secluded room several levels below the intrepid searchers. Groggily, he sat up off the floor, rubbed his aching head and looked around. A single candle provided the only light in the room. Mick was also laid out upon the floor, sleeping soundly and continuing to enjoy his coma. A voice called out from the shadows. "How are you feeling, Doc?" Turning, Dr. Shockwave saw Yoshi and Tony emerge from the darkness. The two looked like they'd been chewed up, spit out, scraped off the plate and run through the garbage disposal. Still a little woozy, he tried to wrap his head around current events. "How did I get here? The last thing I remember is facing that usurper and" "He knocked you out cold," finished Tony. "We brought you down here so Yoshi could patch you up." "I had a lot of time to practice on Tony," added Yoshi, indicating his partner's numerous bandages. "We had our own run in with Marlo." "Why is that impudent fool running the tournament?" demanded Dr. Shockwave. "What is going on?" "He's the only one here who can access FurnitureSpace," explained Tony. "Somehow, all access has been completely cut off. Marlo and Ikea are the only ones who can get in. No one else has any weapons." "WHAT?!" "Well, I suppose the Emperor and Dr. Pfischer have furniture too, since Ikea is training with them, but that still puts a big crimp in things." Dr. Shockwave thought for a moment. Marlo was a corrupt tyrant, but Ikea was no better, having allied himself with the Emperor. 'Clearly they must all be destroyed,' he mused. 'Well, not destroyed. Evil destroys things. More like exterminated. But exterminating someone sounds evil too. At any rate, we have to get rid of them, for the sake of goodness.' Coming back to the present situation, he voiced the one question that had been bothering him. "Who could have been stupid enough to train a psychopath like him in the ways of furniture combat?" Tony glared at Yoshi, "Yeah. It was pretty stupid, wasn't it?" Yoshi merely sweatdropped. "Ah, heh heh." -- -- -- -- -- -- Marlo pulled a small refrigerator out of FurnitureSpace, hurling it at Ikea's head. The Tibetan furniture warrior dived to the side, narrowly missing being put on ice. Dark Queen Irradiance's eyes lit up at the sight of the refrigerator. (Not literally, of course. That would be silly, even for her.) Pouncing upon the kitchen appliance, she flung open the door in hopes of finding icy creamy goodness. "Wai! Wai! It's full of frozen broccoli?!" Her joyful enthusiasm quickly gave way to murderous rage. Rushing headlong into the fray, she leapt straight at Marlo. "Where is the ice cream?!" Ikea shoved her aside and swept his chair low, taking her out at the knees. It pained him to strike his own sister, but he told himself that it was for her own safety. Dark Queen or not, Lumi lacked the tactical expertise to face a madman. "Leave Lumi out of this," stated Ikea. "Fight me." "Whatever you want," smirked Marlo. He proceeded to swing a coffee table around his head. "Bring it on!" Being one to oblige, Ikea did just that. Even though he lacked the heart and skill of a true furniture warrior, Marlo proved to be a formidable opponent. The two fighters lashed out again and again, striking, blocking, swinging and dodging. Neither one managed to take the upper hand. Normally, Ikea would have been content to hold a combatant in stalemate, waiting until an opportunity presented itself. With Marlo, however, he could not afford to take that chance. "Rising Chair Fire!" Striking out with his chair, Ikea set the table aflame, causing Marlo to discard it. While this might dissuade other furniture warriors, Marlo had no shortage of weapons at his disposal, and Ikea quickly realized his error. Pulling forth a waffle iron, he slammed it closed around Ikea's head. Dazed, Ikea was helpless before Marlo's onslaught. Marlo pummeled him with a toaster, smacked him around with a microwave oven and slammed into him with a barbecue grill until Ikea lay broken and battered on the ground. Grinning wildly, Marlo raised an oven range above his head, preparing to finish Ikea off for good. But before he could deliver the coup de grace (translation: severe ass kicking), a string of Christmas lights shot out, entangling his legs. Tripping over, Marlo dented the ground with his face. Twisting around in the net of festive decorations, he locked eyes with Dark Queen Irradiance. "We want our ice cream!" she proclaimed, eyes shining with dark intent. Pulling the cord toward her, she proceeded to reel him in like a fish. -- -- -- -- -- -- Shelly looked around. Of the many things that had happened to her recently, her new predicament was certainly one of the least strange. Indeed, aside from being trapped in a room with an ice cream maker, a crazy executive and a human charcoal briquette, she found it refreshingly normal. Covered in soot and sporting a bad suntan, Hugh hobbled over to where she was standing. "Another visitor? How nice of you to drop in, my dear." "Squeak squeak!" Harry agreed. Shelly blinked. Evidently things weren't normal at all. "What is this place?" "Ah," began Hugh, gratified to be the center of attention once more after so long. "That is indeed a matter of pendulous importance. In order to answer such a question, one must first turn to the gregarious philosophy of the Iroquois indians, and their caustic worship of squids. For, as the vicarious Kublai Khan said when he stood upon the blandishments of Alexandria..." Shelly, in a classic example of Pavlovian conditioned response, promptly fell asleep. -- -- -- -- -- -- While he was by no means the smartest fighter, Marlo did have a knack for thinking on his feet. Reaching into FurnitureSpace, he pulled out a lawnmower and set to shredding the cord that held him captive. On equal footing once more, the two fighters squared off, circled each other, and engaged in a variety of other maneuvers that involve geometric shapes. "You want some ice cream?" taunted Marlo. "Well, I've got thirty-one different flavors of whoop-ass right here." Moving with lightning speed, Lumi pulled forth a full half dozen black light bulbs and hurled them at Marlo. "Dark Irradiance Blast!!" HOW CAN SHE DO THAT?! demanded Emperor Ottoman. NOT EVEN SHE SHOULD BE ABLE TO ACCESS FURNITURESPACE!! "There is one explanation," offered Dr. Pfischer. "She might be drawing her weapons from elsewhere. Perhaps she has access to the Kingdom of Radiance she once ruled over." Back in the ring, Marlo held up a portrait of someone's grandfather, shielding himself from the dark barrage. While most of the blast was deflected, the concussive force was still enough to knock him over. "Give me the ice cream maker!" demanded Dark Queen Irradiance. Brandishing a black fluorescent light tube in each hand, she advanced on Marlo, somehow managing to look both cute and menacing at the same time. "I want it NOW!" Marlo smirked as he scrambled to his feet. "You want the ice cream maker? Oh, I'll give you the ice cream maker!" Pulling a soft-serve yogurt dispenser from FurnitureSpace, he struck Lumi-chan a vicious blow upside the head. "I don't hear you screaming for ice cream now, little girl," gloated Marlo. Ikea launched himself at Marlo, his face a mask of seething indifference. Lashing out with a flurry of quick strikes, he sent Marlo flying once more. -- -- -- -- -- -- Yarslov shook the clutter from his head, gradually recovering from his trip through the dimensional portal. Had he listened closely enough he would have heard his subconscious dream self and Mick complaining about an earthquake interrupting their meal. But Yarslov was too busy getting his head back in order to hear them. "It looks like we're back where we started," grumbled Joanie, sitting up. "No clues. No sign of that mad doctor. No Shelly." "We'll just have to, like, start all over again," decided Yarslov, standing up. "I'm not gonna give up!" Strengthened with new resolve, he set out down the hallway. Even if Shelly did hate his guts, he felt an overwhelming urge to make sure that she was safe, as if it was his destiny to protect her. Something deep down inside his soul made him determined to find her, even if it was the last thing he did. Of course, it would be really not froody if he had to die and everything to save her, but he was still willing to do it. Struggling to her feet, Joanie ran after him. "Yarslov, I care about Shelly too, but there's only so much we can do! We don't even know where to start looking! She could be anywhere!" "She's gotta be around here somewhere," insisted Yarslov. "It's not like she fell off the face of the Earth or something!" Joanie considered arguing with the stubborn Swede, but instead opted to utter a yelp of surprise and panic. Sensing something amiss, Yarslov looked back to see a distinct lack of Joanie. Indeed, where he would normally expect her to be standing he saw only a gaping hole in the floor. "Not cool." -- -- -- -- -- -- Marlo rolled out from under Ikea's torrent of strikes, bloodied and battered. He still wore his self-assured grin, but his eyes were filled with anger as he took a sofa out of FurnitureSpace. "Marlo's had just about enough of you and your loser sister. Why don't you both just get your candy asses on out of here!" Ikea's eyebrow twitched. Dark Queen Irradiance rose to her feet, drawing forth two large handfulls of black light bulbs. "No more asking nicely. Give. Me. The. Ice. Cream." Ikea's other eyebrow twitched. Twice. Ikea stood in the center of the ring, both fighters advancing on him. It was a feeling akin to being trapped between a rock and a hard place, with both the rock and hard place intent on seeing you dead. Exhausted, he considered his options. The chances that he could defeat both Marlo and Lumi in single combat were woefully slim. Yet he could not doom the Earth by letting either one of them claim victory. His wisdom told him to keep going, fight conservatively, wait for some small chance and try his best to maintain his honor. But once again he felt a tiny part of himself calling out for a quick victory, urging him to crush his opponents. With his willpower stretched to the breaking point he was helpless to resist, and the rage that he had kept bottled up for so long exploded like a volcano. Ikea swung his chair in a vicious arc, crying out at the top of his lungs. "BLAZING CHAIR INFERNO!!" Fire leapt from his chair, spreading outward in a crimson blossom. All three fighters were consumed within the terrible blaze. Normally such a maneuver would have been beyond Ikea's capabilities, but this time he made up for what he lacked in chi with pure frustration. The assembled onlookers shrunk back as the entire arena was engulfed in a ball of flame. Some of the slower audience members lost their eyebrows to the rush of super-heated air. For a full minute, nothing moved. Everyone held their breath, awaiting some sign as to the outcome of Ikea's bold gambit. Some feared that even that had not been enough to defeat Marlo, while others wondered if anyone could survive the apocalypse before them. Then, through the smoke, a single figure emerged -- -- -- -- -- -- END PART TWENTY-TWO! Stay tuned for Furniture Warriors... PART TWENTY-THREE: A Call to Armchairs! FURNITURE! HUMOR! VIOLENCE! GRATUITOUS USE OF THE WORD "DORKWAD!" (But not necessarily in that order.) All in the next episode, written by the honorable W4! -- -- -- -- -- -- Author's notes: Wow. My first real attempt at writing fanfiction, complete at last. And what an honor, I must say, to break into the business with an episode of Furniture Warriors. I remember when the first episode premiered on Spatula City. The zany wackiness brought me hours of laughter, and scared away everyone else in the computer lab. Thanks go out to Twoflower, for creating the series; my brother Chris, for inspiring me to be the insane weirdo I am today; Paul Grittner, for letting me use his computer; and to Mark, for volunteering to test the effects of smashing a chair against a human head. Without him, this chapter would be nowhere near as realistic as it is now. Finally, I would like to dedicate this chapter to my good friend, Yamanari Youko. Thank you, and good night. Scott Stockton Esq. Phoenix Clan Novelist "I've got thirty-one different flavors of whoop-ass right here."