Castra easily withstands the dying breath of Kurtis and attacks the forming motorcycle.
Illuria scrambles away from the blast. She aims with her flintlock at the motorcycle guy, hoping to explode its gas tank.
Zindarel hits the ground hard as the giant tackles her! Black begins to creep into her vision as she wavers on the edge of consciousness, but she uses her magic to heal her injuries.
The birthday wish is cut short as Castra slashes the front tire trying to sever the bike, and Illuria shoots a hole in the gas tank. All that leaks out is snake venom.
The motaur tips over.
Birthday Boy leans on his teapot hand and looks at his nonfunctional bike half. “Oh Chad, you were always dysfunctional, but always functioned… until now. And I can’t even eat you because you’re a motorcycle.”
The puppet head understands what is slowly killing him to. His creepy puppet eyes glare at the head of snakes.
Having laid on a couch, smelling her own fumes plenty enough times, Kurtis' last breath doesn't even faze Betty.
She's feeling a little under the weather nonetheless and starts thinking of that one TV show about half a dozen of best buds living in an apartment building, specifically that one episode where nobody knew what one bud's job was. That's exactly how it is with all the people she's doing payroll and vacation days for: Who knows what they actually do!
These happy thoughts make her feel so much better. She's ready to fight the big giant once more!
The unexpected toppling of the motaur’s bike half cause him to lose his grip on the fairy giant.
He kicks off his bike half in frustration!
His tea arm shoots back at Betty!
The puppet head-hand looks to Castra and Illuria, as if deciding who to attack. It reveals a human-sized puppet on ITS hand, which is in fact a human: Vinny Trillo the Puppet Master.
Both he and the puppet sing at once:
In a second at SMASH R.P.G.
My true love will give me
Two ladies dancing!
…and a bite of the giant faaaaairyyyyyy!
With the fiery whitey-tighties gone and her feeling better, she notices a stream of piping hot tea flying at her. She turns towards it. "Your tea needs some sugar, mister!" she yells.
With furrowed brow and fiery eyes lit by hatred of healthy things, like for example tea, she gives her bottle another good shake and smashes the teeth-rottening beverage into the imminent tea tide.
Zindarel dodges the flying motorcycle then leaps and slices at the head!
The teapot says, “Sugar? No thank you, I’m sweet enoug-g-g-gl-glggglgglllgglglggg??!!?!!”
The teapot hand begins to expand and whistle…
“You will not see me dance. I am no man’s puppet.”
Illuria shuts her eyes against the efforts to control her. Her snakes hiss in fury as she backpedals away from the giant.
"That's it!!! I'm done here!" She pulls her eyepatch down to use her medusa's power.
Mister Tea is ready to unleash an even-more devastating attack than Kurtis Blow’s! Zindarel tries to finish the head, but the skull is too thick! Castra chops the arm, but it’s too beefy to sever! Illuria finds Birthday Boy is immune to her gaze. Even as the puppet turns to stone (along with its attached human master), the head shouts, “I’m invisible!”
From his sizable open stomach, intestines and sinew and tendrils and tentacles all slither about. The giant rises, standing sixty feet tall, mobilized by a mountain of guts.
And he punches himself in the face with his stone puppet-fist.
Hard.
Blood runs down his face as the fist remains embedded. When the fist is finally forced out with a tug, the face is gone. Bits of brain and broken skull remain impaled on the center jinglebell point on the puppet’s solid-stone jester hat.
The giant body tips over backwards, shaking the ground with a deafening boom!
The quaking stops. You are all feeling too fatigued to maintain your powers. Zindarel gradually becomes smaller, enjoys a brief moment of being the size of her friends, then dwindles down to just a few inches tall. Castra slows and calms. Betty’s soda flattens to the point it’s not worth drinking. (Well… maybe a little. Could use some corn chips, though.)
You look around and can see the many floating islands to the west of the world. They are but specks in the night sky.
Around you, the parking garage is mostly destroyed along with the vehicles in it. You hear a single engine making a sound. Somewhere on another side of the building is a commotion.
Zindarel sighs with relief when she returns to her normal size. Being humongous is fun for a short time, but it's rather disorienting seeing everything else around her so small!
When she hears the noises, the fairy quickly flies through the garage to try to find the source of the engine sound.
Illuria blinks in astonishment -- and exhaustion -- at the destruction of the composite giant. She can't help but feel amazed that when she imagined the giant punching itself with its stone fist it actually did just that.
Imagining things. That's gotta be it.
She staggers to her feet and reloads her pistol. "Rum break, everyone," she says, then swears when Zindarel flies off after the engine sound.
Castra sheathes both swords smoothly, then crouches down to sit on her heels, catching her breath. At the captain's curse, she looks up and sees their winged companion disappearing toward the mechanical sound in the distance.
"Maybe she will find us a ride out of here, Captain. And not more trouble."
Zindarel is curious as most fairies are. But her ninja skills, in combination with her size and wings, allow her to scout in relative safety.
There is a vehicle not common to Themyscira.
The vehicle is being tampered with by an escaped prisoner. You recognize him as the sole survivor in the cage match.
“Hey, it’s you!” He offers a friendly smile. “Yeah… ya took out DiCatrio and won yourself this sweet ride. I’m, uh… just starting it up for ya.”
He knows you are not a fool.
“I know you’re not a fool. If ya ladies take me a few miles east, I promise, you’ll be glad ya did.”
You can see he has no intention to harm you. He has seen you plunge your blades into the magical mob boss of Cell Block D. There are men who underestimate fairies because of their size. This man is not among them.
Zindarel bows to the man. ”Very well. I shall pass your request along to the captain.”
The fairy zips back to her companions to tell them what she has found.
The escaping prisoner could simply drive off without you. For some reason, he drives quickly—and recklessly—down the ramp of the partially-demolished garage. He drives through a wall that was already mostly rubble, veers around a giant intestine-tentacle thing, and screeches to a halt beside you.
“No time to explain. Get in! I’ll tell you on the way!”
Zindarel takes her seat on the dashboard beside the hula girl, holding onto the figurines thighs to keep her balance.
“You taking the wheel, Captain, or ya want me to? I was a getaway driver. A good one. Got away every time except one.” He pats the label on his prison uniform.
“How about some music?”
A line from a song blares, —ALL OF THE DICKS IN THIS DICK TOWN CAN’T KEEP JOHNNY DOWN! MEN PILED UP IN A TOWERING MOUND—
The ex-prisoner turns down the volume. “Not these f$~+ing guys. They were already an old band when I got locked up! Do rockers never retire?
“Anyway… Johnny Down’s my name. That or Dick Town. Which looks better on a fake ID?”
"You can drive... for now," Illuria says as she slides into the shotgun seat. She looks over the controls to familiarize herself with them in case there's a need for her to take over.
‘Johnny’ nods, and if Illuria is interested he demonstrates the controls. There are two separate sticks, which allow left wheels and right wheels to coast (neutral) or reverse while the others continue forward. Pedals are clutch, brake, gas.
“This model’s called the Pink Panzer. There’s a it’s-okay-for-a-guy-to-drive pink movement, from what my buddy in D told me. He was killed by DiCatrio’s magic. Hell, had ya not avenged him I’d be tempted to drive without ya. But I’m glad ya trust me enough to get you out. I’d have to ditch this thing, and what a waste that’s be!
“The only others to drive a Pink Panzer are action-porn star Sly Schwartz, Eli Musty who owns the company that makes these, the one Smash team that survived this year… and Bixby Snider, though he drove his into a lake.
“Damn straight it’s okay to drive pink. I’m loving this!”
Eventually, you are on back roads. Johnny stops over a bridge and points out large cargo trucks. Some have open tops, as they transport garbage or ore. He says to Zindarel, “Mind dropping this into one of those trucks, little lady?”
He hands Zindarel a device the size of a pepperoni slice.
“This is what you caught me doing. Removing the tracker. Now Bastardom knows we drove off, and if you get caught, no problem. It’s your prize. But you don’t want Bastardom to track you, right?”
In a flash, Zindarel zips over, drops the tracker on another truck, and zips back before the others even register she was gone. "Done."
The tracker not only hits its desired target, but does so in a way that it slips into a hole between pieces of ore. There is no need to worry that the truck will hit a bump and lost the tracker, thus it will appear the Pink Panzer is off to some big city somewhere.
“Nice! That’s my way of thanking you. But you earned your freedom their way, and I earned mine my way. You lose what you worked for if ya get caught with me. I got a hideaway here in the Red Barren.”
True to his word, Johnny only drives a few miles past the bridge, and stops by a cave. He then shows you a map.
“There are three decent towns between here and Rooftopolis. The North End is where DiCatrio’s gang used to rule, and he still ran it on the inside. How popular you are kinda depends who took over. I doubt you’ll have any trouble there.
“Then there’s The Village. Quaint. Residential. Some inns for anyone going to the VeggieFest, but that’s their only tourist season. So you can get a room at pretty much any B&B.
“The South Bridge leads to the Tethered Island—y’know, that weird floating island with the great oak with roots extending to here on the mainland. Pretty place for a women’s prison. Maximum security, and instead of dying before a live audience, you live in a place that smells like flowers year round.”
Johnny hands Illuria the map and the keys, and unless you have more to say, he slips into the cave.
Illuria studies the map with a sour expression. "I don't know what's going to get us back to Themyscira quickest. Not ready to go back to prison, even if it smells like flowers. Any preferences?"
In her mundane form, Cassi starts to look over the captain's shoulder, realizes a snake is eyeing her, and thinks better of it. "Not the prison sounds good. Not too interested in going to a town in a turf war or where they might gun for us to prove they deserve the throne. The Village doesn't sound exciting - might be perfect."
Illuria and her snakes nod their heads. "Quiet sounds nice for a change."
The ride into town is so quiet, you only know you’ve entered a town at all because instead of everything being flat and red, everything is curved and green. The first sign of life you see is a pink house in the middle of a huge plot of farmland.
You may try to see if anyone is home, or move along. Not every farmhouse is a bed-and-breakfast, you realize. But farmhouses aren’t normally bright pink.
Illuria gestures to the pink house. "What we're driving really stands out. That's as good a camouflage as any. We park close enough to it, this SUV might get missed from a distance," she observes.
You park the vehicle. But of course, the owners of the home have spotted you.
A woman peers out the front door of the home. She descends the steps, curious. “Honey… I think he stopped.”
“Who?” a male voice replies.
“Fly Something. Whoever you said owns that Pink Panther.”
“Sly Schwar—the porn guy? He’s…” A window opens. The man yells, “Ya better not f~%% my wife!”
“Honey, I’m not kidding…” She turns to face the barn, and smiles at you, relieved you’re not a muscular porn star. “Oh, they’re ladies. Shall I tell them not to fornicate with my husband?”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there in a minute.” He closes the window
The woman gives a friendly wave as she approaches. “Welcome to the B & B Clydesdale Farm. My name is Bonnie. How might I help you?”
"Bathroom break," Illuria shouts as she puts the vehicle in park. "Fornicating wasn't really part of the plan, but we're flexible."
She had found a pair of aviator sunglasses above the SUV's visor, and is now wearing them.
The lady takes the reply for humor, and so does the husband if he knows what’s good for him.
He immediately recognizes you as the SMASH R.P.G. winners and says, “Park in the barn, where the government choppers won’t see ya.”
It takes a minute to clear some of the harvest (melons!), and he lets two horses clear out and roam the field freely.
It seems Bob and Bonnie made their farmhouse into a bed and breakfast. Bonnie says, “We ain’t got any kids yet, but there’s three extra bedrooms and a bathroom we use for tenants. It’s the off-season, so sheets have been clean since last VeggieFest.”
Cassi is doing her best to look meek and unassuming despite her new memories and resulting confidence. Her eyes roam the farm, the road before and behind, and the area, looking for anything useful or interesting to their continues progress home.
Castra doesn’t see much that is useful for a combat situation, aside from several tools in the barn, should Betty need to improvise a weapon.
As for surveillance, there is only one road and it is seldom used, it seems. If someone were to come from town or from the Red Barren, their vehicle would kick up dust from the road. If you happened to be outdoors or looking out a window at the time a traveler approaches, you could see them coming from a mile away or so.
The bathroom and bedrooms are quaint and cozy. A bath and a nap would do you all some good.
INT. CELEBRITY GUEST SUITE – DAY
Bixby Snider is clad in a leisure suit jacket, boxer shorts with his face printed on the front between the words ‘kiss’ and ‘me,’ and black socks. He is cuffed at the wrists and ankles to the bed posts.
To one side of the bed is a gaping hole in the wall overlooking a dead giant, and the successfully-evacuated studio audience and SMASH R.P.G. staff.
Bob Oracle is on the opposite side of the bed, arm forward onto the foreground. Oddly, Bob has half a beard and half of a moustache.
BOB ORACLE
“This is Bob Oracle, coming to you live from Bixby Snider’s suite, here at what’s left of the SMASH R.P.G. Celebrity Guests’ Quarter.
“My people on the ground—“ He turns the camera away from himself, showing only the crowd. “—who saved their own butts while I was in the middle of a shave—“ He turns back to himself, still putting on that showman smile despite his ridiculous half-stache-and-beard. “—have confirmed, all non-prisoners and zero prisoners have been accounted for.
“So the only people left in this building, patiently awaiting the rescue chopper, are myself and Bixby Snider. How are things looking from your perspective, Mr. Snider?”
BIXBY SNIDER
”Terrible. You can borrow my razor.”
BOB
“Your…”
BIXBY
“I get it. The building shook. Your razor fell into a crack in the floor. And now you look sillier than me, and here I am tied to a bed wearing clothes when I should be wearing wom—“
The broadcast is interrupted by M.C. Bastardom with a sports-entertainment reporter who looks like a pro-wrestler stuffed into a suit. His large calloused fist carries a microphone with the letters W-H-A-M on it.
WHAM REPORTER
“Okaaaaay, here we are at the outskirts of the North End, where the first ever ladies to enter and win SMASH R.P.G. will arrive any second.”
CLOSE-UP of handheld device showing a red dot on a blue path that starts at Trixie’s Truck Stop and Brothel and extends north to a grid of city streets.
CUT TO view of the road. There are several cars and a cargo truck.
The truck passes. M.C. Bastardom looks annoyed, but after a couple of seconds, he laughs.
BASTARDOM
“Looks like our winners claimed their prize, but discovered my tracking device.”
WHAM REPORTER
“So does this mean you can’t have them on SLASH R.P.G. as returning champs?”
BASTARDOM
“As you well know, returning champs fight by choice. These ladies earned their freedom.
“And it’s no matter.”
The camera faces a large personnel carrier with female prisoners in back.
“We have sixteen captive Themyscirans, all accused of the same war crime as Captain Euryale’s crew.
“With the Westedge penitentiary in ruin and its prisoners all dead, coupled with the ratings-boost from female combatants, we can set up some cameras and arenas on the Tethered Isle, and SLASH R.P.G. is ago.”
WHAM REPORTER
“SLASH, not SMASH?”
BASTARDOM
“The ‘L’ is for Ladies.”
WHAM REPORTER
“Instead of ‘M’ for Men. I get it… what’re the other letters for?”
BASTARDOM
“Who the hell cares? Am I right!” He hops in the driver’s seat of a red convertible. “Let’s get this show on the road!”
Illuria levels her gaze at the television. It was a purely symbolic gesture, since Bastardom and crew remained disgusting flesh instead of much-less-disgusting-but-still-unpleasant stone. She trembles in fury for a moment until she masters herself.
Dropping her aviators down over both eyes, she turns to her crew. "I think we know where we're headed. Is everyone ready?"
Perhaps you do know where you’re headed, but Bonnie and Bob start quietly disagreeing upon what course of action they think you’re going to take. As the two speak, Bonnie starts jotting things on a napkin. “How to draw the Tethered Isle...”
“Just rip it,” Bob replies as he tears the napkin. He seems proud of his contribution.
Zindarel checks her knives and shuriken. "Ready. Let's finish this," she says.
Illuria rubs her chin as she looks over the map and considers their plan of action. It was likely going to get messy regardless of what they did, so the best tactic was the most unexpected.
When Bob tears the piece of napkin, her brow furrows and her snakes hiss softly in unison. "That's the 'Tethered Isle,' right? What's tethering it?" She pulls off her sunglasses in dramatic fashion.
"And can it be un-tethered?"
Bonnie replies, “Untethering the island would be like… like leveling a city, in terms of the destructive force it would take.”
Bob highlights a path on his napkin-map. “My wife and I drive out to the Natural Tether. It’s like a tree root, but thicker than an entire forest. It even has its own gravitational pull, so you can walk out on it. The air’s breathable. That pink big-wheel o’ yours can probably drive up most of the way. Not sure you could make it up onto the island itself.”
Bonnie is still hung up on the un-tethering. “Wait. You mean… you’re not just going to rescue your people, you mean. You’re going to make sure those prisoners don’t end up on that sadistic gameshow.”
Even if you cannot destroy the tether, the Clydesdales agree that cutting off access to the island is a smarter plan than facing the enemy of the highway.
As you pile into the Pink Panzer, Bob calls, “Hold up a bit…”
He hands Illuria a loaded six-shooter. “It’s a Ladykiller, loaded with Heartseeker ammo and made to target women. I reverse engineered it. Call it a Manslayer now. It’ll keep you from accidentally shooting one of your own in a crossfire.”
It is therefore hardly surprising that she has something for your blades. “You are a huntress. One who fights up close and personal. You are loyal to your blades; therefore, it would be a slap in the face to ask you to put them aside for another.
“Care for your blades with this.” She gives Cassie a purple oil.
“I’ll need a tooth fairy if I eat something that sweet though. But if you’re anything like Hanako and Nissa and Baldy and Savi and Violet and Hotcha and Alice, you’ll enjoy the sugary rainbowness baked by a child who believes in fairies without ever having seen one.”
[ooc]1 use - Eat a Fairy Cake; get a sugar rush!
• The first time you roll a 1 or 2 after eating, that number is your Sugar Rush number…
• …the other is your Sugar Crash.
• Both 1s and 2s are wild during the Sugar Rush, counting as the highest roll on the die…
• …but a Sugar Crash ends the rush.
You say your goodbyes and are off. You find you can drive along the Natural Tether. It is a strange root whose diameter must be more than a mile! Its bizarre gravity allows you to spiral about it, so that twice along your journey, you find the underbelly of the supposedly-flat planet facing up. The underside is black and jagged, making the backdrop of starry space seem a bright indigo.
The root ends with you daylight-side-up. Driving from the root onto the island is a tricky maneuver, but what kinda pirate can’t maneuver onto an island ‘cause of a rocky shore?
* * *
As you draw near the bridge, you see two strange women outdoors. One is wearing one work glove, an apron, and dirt. You can’t unsee her bare bottom (with a clean spot on each cheek) when her back is to you. When you see her face, her expression is odd, but focused. She plucks weeds from a field that is rainbow-striped with flowers.
A less odd woman with a crosshair tattoo over her right eye gives you a wave. “Ya girls turning yerselfs in?” She looks like a biker chick, as much as on can in chartreuse prison garb cut to resemble biker chick garb.
Betty sticks her head out of the window and yells back: "Turning in for the night sounds nice! Where is the nearest inn?"
"No, we're not--" Illuria's answer is cut off and she gives Betty a sigh. "No, we're here to stop this place from becoming the next violent TV show. We're going to save you all. And >ahem< torescuetheThemysciransfromunjustcaptivity."
Zindarel remains tense from her spot on the dashboard, ready to grab either a shuriken or a cake from her outfit, whichever is the most appropriate!
The target-eyed girl immediately understands the reference.
“Ya mean like what I hear goes on at Westedge Max? Hah… life sentence my ass. Shoulda known.”
The one in the apron turns her head 170 degrees to face you. Then, mercifully, she pivots her body to follow. “We can’t have… nice things?”
“They treat us right here… I don’t wanna fight Themyscrians. Even if I thought I could win, I ain’t got no beef.”
The aproned one drops the dandelions in her hands. “I’m a… good girl.”
The target-eyed one looks back at her crazy friend, then at you. “Mind giving Jackie a ride?” She points to her own collar. “If I come any closer, the alarm’ll trip. Jackie took her collar off and she don’t need it. She’s got it good here. She’s sweet when she don’t got a reason to stab people.”
Cassi slides to the back door nearest Jackie. ”Jackie, would you like to come with us?”
Illuria pulls out her new six-shooter and spins the barrel along her forearm. "They're on their way, now. They threw us in with the men and broadcast the whole bloodbath. How many else in this prison might be willing to lend a hand?" she asks Garnet.
Garnet answers, “Anyone with sense would. But we’re collared. Best I got’s to create a diversion on the inside. Only Jackie can come with ya.”
Jackie hops in the back seat, grin stretching from dandelion stained cheek to scarred cheek. She holds up her fists as if grabbing an imaginary steering wheel.
Garnet warns, ”Remember, if one guard dies, you don’t get to tend the flowers no more.”
Jackie makes pouty lips. “No stabby.”
* * *
During the ride, Jackie can hardly keep her eyes off of your blades. “You stabby? You stabby-stabby. You stabby-hat…” When she sees Zindarel clinging to the hula figurine, she stands up. “Stabby dance!”
Jackie sways her hip once, then falls backwards from the moving vehicle mid-hula. She hangs by the knee from the spare tire, curls effortlessly in a vertical sit-up and volley back to her seat. “Fasten seatbelt. Imma good girl.”
When the bridge is in sight, Jackie remembers Garnet’s plan . She leaps from the Pink Panzer before Illuria has a chance to stop. She tucks and rolls, and in the process, the knot of her apron is undone.
“N.T! N.T!” she shouts as she tears the apron and tosses it in the air. She runs by the guards wearing only a single work glove.
“Aw, not Naked Time again,” grumbles a guard. Another says, “I hate Naked Time.” And since neither guard wants to deal with a naked Jackie alone, both give chase. “Put some pants on Jackie!” “Pants are nice things!”
With the guards after Jackie, you can safely set up an ambush on the Tethered Isle side of the bridge. Presumably, there are guards on the mainland side. But the bridge must be a mile long. As long as you don’t venture too far, they might not notice you.