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| A Night To Remember | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 28 2009, 11:45 PM (1,540 Views) | |
| Dorothy Khushrenada | May 8 2009, 03:00 AM Post #31 |
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Magnificent God-like Treize's Snugglebunny
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"I WILL HAVE YOU BACK PRINCESS TINYFEET!!! THIS IS FOR YOU!" She had noticed the shouting, but Dorothy hadn't paid too much attention to what was happening until a moment later when shots rang out. Her heart stopped a beat. Treize! She stopped in the middle of the dance and whirled to where she had last seen Treize. Only he wasn't there. A crowd started to gather. "TREIZE!" she shouted in desperation. She left Mr. Milliardo, even pushing against him to give herself more momentum heading toward her husband. She pushed through the crowd. Why was everyone getting in her way? She shoved people around, eventually coming upon her groom. No! Not on our wedding day. I won't lose another husband! Please, God, no. I haven't gone to church for nothing. Please let him still be alive! It's not fair! When she came upon him, he was lying on the floor, face up. His face was deathly white, and he had been shot in the chest. She forgot how to breathe for a handful of moments. Then she fell to her knees beside him. On the ground next to him, she could see that he still breathed, if not that well. "Treize! Treize, can you hear me?" He didn't respond. "Somebody call an ambulance!" she cried. She felt tears falling down her cheeks rapidly, and she hated that she didn't know what to do to save him. She clung to him and cradled his head in her arms. "Treize...oh Treize. You have to get through this, snoogums. You can't leave me and Anda...or Mariemaia. You're so close to the presidency, too," she whispered. "You can't die. You promised. I love you...too much...t-to lose you." After that, she was unable to talk. |
| No, I'm not a crazy beezy. Why do you ask? | |
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| Marquis Weridge | May 8 2009, 03:09 AM Post #32 |
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First Dance
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This couldn't be happening. He'd been assured that the private security company he'd hired specifically for this occasion was superior to the Preventers, and security for his esteemed guests after the trauma of the previous masquerade ball was his top priority. There could never be another ball now. No one would be foolish enough to come to another one when their safety couldn't be guaranteed, and this proved it couldn't. Weridge's duties now were to get Treize to a hospital and minimize the panic and hysteria of the other guests as much as possible. With those thoughts in mind, he ordered a few of the waiters over to carry Treize into another room while he phoned an ambulance on his cell. Talking to a dispatcher all the while, he followed closely on the heels of the waiters as they carried what would have been the next president into one of the parlors and laid him out on the couch. "You there! Get some rags and wipe up all the blood between here and the ballroom. I don't want anyone seeing just how extensive the injury is. Hurry!" Strange how focused he was at a time like this, but someone needed to be. "Someone tell the orchestra to strike up another number. I want to keep everyone calm. And for the love of God would someone see that Security arrests that damn madman!" |
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| Duo Maxwell | May 8 2009, 07:26 PM Post #33 |
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Resident Depressive
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The Dread Pirate Roberts/Duo came crashing into the thread uninvited, and slammed headfirst into Sgt. Hatred, aka Guy With A Tattoo(And Gun), planning to tackle him to the floor. Unfortunately, being drunk, and quite a bit tinier and punier than the man, he ended up bouncing off and stumbling backwards, falling on his rear with an "Oof!" of surprise. He felt a bullet whizz past his ear, but the danger that entailed never really registered with his brain. He climbed to his feet, stumbling slightly until he managed to get his footing, and jabbed a finger at the man, who to him now looked like two wobbly giant tanks, and declared loudly. "Drop the gun, Hulk, or I rearrange your face!" Ooooh.. threatening. He was certainly the masked hero, even though his mask was still resting on his forehead. Details, details.. |
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| Sgt. Hatred | May 9 2009, 02:29 PM Post #34 |
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New Arrival
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Sgt. Hatred was now in a successful frenzy. Shotting all around the room until his clip ran out. He of course did not think to bring another clip. But it didn't matter anymore, he knew that princess tinyfeet would come running back to him any second now. That's when he felt it, someone crashing into his large body. His heart skipped a beat as he thought it was his princess again, but as he turned he only saw a guy dressed as some zorro thing. "WHERE IS PRINCESS TINYFEET?!" He yelled at the kid just before three hulking security guards, as big as him came and grabbed him. His gun fell to the floor with a loud clutter as he thrashed about "I ONCE ATE A WHOLE LABRADORE RETRIEVER! " of course he knew hat the guild would get him out of this situation soon enough. So he finally settle down. . . it took alot in him to try and stay calm as the guards trotted him off. You see, this was all an act. He moved into the back room with the security guards who told him that the police were coming. This gave him his chance. He quickly grabbed the giant radio on the back of his belt and called for the henchmen in his hover tank to bring it out front. He now reached into on e of the pouches on the front of his jacket and retrived a flash grenade, pulling the pin he quickly threw it and ducked out of the room. The mad man was now sprinting through large hallways and ballrooms all the while laughing like a lunatic. As he reached the front door he burst through it and jumped on board of the hover tank that was waiting for him. "YOU'LL SEE ME AGAN ZACH EFRON!" He would now try and arch the one in the Zach Efron mask. . . but for now he merely escaped through the skies in his large tank. |
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| Milliardo Peacecraft | May 11 2009, 01:15 PM Post #35 |
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Flava Flav, Hot Version
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Suffering the same moment of grumbling as Heero since the stupid busy weekend took him out of a possible nice bit of action, Milliardo found all his answers to Dorothy cut short by an avalanche movement caused by a rather dimwitted looking man with a gun crudely disguised as a toy! Damn! He'd wasted good money getting his own in when he could have simply capped the end of the barrel with plastic. He knew the security sucked from his own escapade, but this was ridiculous. Then it hit him. Dorothy was rushed off in a panic while a drunken Maxwell attempted to subdue the villain... and Treize was down. Mil stood quietly as the scene was cleared by the Marquis. At this point, there really wasn't much to be done by himself. Treize and Dorothy were already gone from the room, likely to be soon on the way to a hospital. Members of the waitstaff already worked to mop up the blood that had been spilled as the cattle-like guests were herded aside, their eyes gleaming with the same wide, glassy expression that preceded a stampede. And, using his super-keen sense of observation, Mil was not surprised to note the gunman escaped in the most absurd fashion. Really, a hover tank? Was there something wrong with using a giant, humanoid robot like the rest of them? This left Maxwell wobbling in the middle of room, his finger jabbed at nothing more than air now. Mil sighed and approached the man. "Maxwell," he said, shifting back his hood so that his face was visible, "a good attempt, but I think we've lost our man. For the moment, anyway." |
| I'm the only John Wayne left in this town. | |
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| Duo Maxwell | May 11 2009, 02:13 PM Post #36 |
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Resident Depressive
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Duo wobbled, taken aback by the way his dastardly opponent screamed about him about having tiny feet. Moments later, at least it seemed like moments, it was probably more like two days, the green tanks in his vision were hauled off by a large group of people he suspected were security. He continued to stare blankly at the spot he'd previously been pointing at accusingly. "Maxwell, a good attempt, but I think we've lost our man. For the moment, anyway." Duo's head tilted back, his back arching as he strained to catch sight of whoever had come up behind him. He caught sight of a familiar black hood and grinned, twisting around so he didn't have to bend over backwards to see the tall man. "Heeeeey, Longshanks!" He held up his hand for a high five, but then dropped it as the Ranger threw back his hood epically to reveal… one of his former arch nemeses. "Oooh… it's you." He looked back at where the villain had vanished. Ah, it seemed his plan had failed. Looks like Dorothy would continue to hate him until somebody else attacked one of her dances. "Huh… you're right.." He seemed a little lost and confused at this point. Where was he again? Then his mouth did that thing where it moved on its own. "Hey, Millie.. you look kinda.. zexy today." Zechs...Zexy… sexy.. GET IT????? That was going in his BOOK OF WITTY NICKNAMES. ………..Maybe another drink would help. |
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| Milliardo Peacecraft | May 13 2009, 11:56 AM Post #37 |
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Flava Flav, Hot Version
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Watching Maxwell continue to wobble and attempt to spout witticisms simply made Milliardo groan and roll his eyes. How did anything get done with such lushes around? He highly doubted Maxwell was the only one time pilot reeking of expensive booze right now. Several of them seemed prone to it if the previous gathering were any accurate indication.... "Perhaps," he said, laying a hand on Maxwell's shoulder, "it might be best if you refrain from drinking further tonight." It wasn't as if he could stop the younger man from imbibing more, the actual act probably looking to be something a bit more strenuous than with the average bear. Mil was in no mood to play the role of Ranger (despite his costume) keeping Yogi out of pic-a-nic baskets. Besides, there were things more important than drunken G-boys to be worried about at this point. Right? He sighed and decided to give it some time before attempting to contact Dorothy and find out just how much he needed to be worried. |
| I'm the only John Wayne left in this town. | |
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| Duo Maxwell | May 13 2009, 07:44 PM Post #38 |
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Resident Depressive
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His eyes followed the movement of the older man's hand until it thumped down upon his shoulder. He tipped to the side, the added 17 or so ounces of Milliardo's hand sending him off balance and careening towards the floor. He stumbled. Fumbling for a moment, he finally lifted both hands to grab onto the taller man's outstretched arm to keep himself upright. He breathed deeply, blinking away the three Rangers in his vision until he could make out a single form. He stared at the man, the gears in his head whirring almost visibly, though at a slower pace than normal. It was obvious that if he let go of the guy, he'd be flat on his face in less than thirty seconds. First step: Admit you have a problem. "You're right.. I think it's affecting me.." He tipped forward, his face coming to an abrupt halt against Milliardo's chest as he started to snicker, the sound muffled against the other's dashing black clothing. |
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| Milliardo Peacecraft | May 15 2009, 11:49 AM Post #39 |
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Flava Flav, Hot Version
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When Maxwell ended up slumped against his chest, snickering and rubbing his face against the front of his costume, Milliardo found himself at something of a loss. While not at all imposed to have such a tasty piece using him as a prop to avoid hitting the floor, it was a bit awkward considering the company. Not that anyone was really paying too close attention given recent events. Wrapping an arm around Maxwell, Mil began the careful process of moving them from the center of the room. Getting over toward one of the walls -- or, better yet, an entirely different room with fewer people -- would do wonders for the possibility of something like privacy. A quick glance around found him the perfect spot to escape to, at least for the moment. "Come, Maxwell, let's stop acting like a dizzy child in front of the gossip mongers, shall we?" It occurred to him right then to be thankful that Relena was not in attendance. He sighed gratefully and returned his focus to the attempt to ease Maxwell into a fairly recessed corner, near an open doorway into some other room -- Mil didn't take the time to identify it. |
| I'm the only John Wayne left in this town. | |
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| Duo Maxwell | May 15 2009, 02:57 PM Post #40 |
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Resident Depressive
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His snickering dulled into silence as he felt a weight settle heavily around him. He suspected it was an adolescent Burmese python, but then, it could have been Millie's arm offering support. His money was on the python though. His head turned so he could stare down at the "Come, Maxwell, let's stop acting like a dizzy child in front of the gossip mongers, shall we?" He let out a low snicker, realizing belatedly that Milliardo was attempting to drag him to the dark recesses of the ballroom, possibly to do dastardly things to him. Maybe he would have taken the time to figure out where they would end up, but being drunk and unable to see less than three of everything, the attempt would have been an epic waste of time, so he just let himself be led around by the one of them who was sober, mumbling in a wavering tone of 'I don't know where the hell I am or what I'm doing.' "You know, Mil…Mil-ee-ARR-do.." He stumbled disgracefully over the man's name. Really, why did he need such a long, complicated name anyway? Why couldn't he just use a common word from the English dictionary like he had?? "If I had known how gallant and gainfully heroic you were, I would have tried being a damsel in distress years ago.." He lifted a hand, waving it in the air sporadically as if that would somehow help demonstrate how damsel-in-distress-like he could be. The extra effort required for this movement though, made him trip and go sprawling. Luckily though, by this time they had reached the end of their journey to the mysterious dark corner, and he managed to catch himself by grabbing a handful of the man's shirt, and the decorative column that happened to be sticking out from the wall beside him. He burst into giggles and slid down clumsily to sit on the floor, using Mil's shirt as a handhold. |
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10:51 AM Jul 11