Eh, I'm not much for writing crossovers and that type of thing but I've been kind of bored lately with writing shorts, and I wanted to do something interesting during my short breaks from my longer stories. I recently rediscovered my love of Conker's Bad Fur Day when I finally got my N64 emulator to work properly on my computer, and this idea came to me. Odd combo, but it's not the weirdest of the ones I've seen done.

With this one, I'll try to explain stuff as I go along, so even if you've never played it, you'll still have a pretty good idea of what's up.

Please bear with me through the introduction… I'm not going to go into heavy detail in that, 'cause I suck at intros. So it's going to be quick.

All in all, I think this could be quite fun. I'm not totally certain yet if I'll use elements from Conker: Live and Reloaded, but I just might. I should really consider investing in an Xbox… Or spend more time at my cousin's place and use his.

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Fabric of Reality

By Burning Bridges

Chapter One: Wake Up and Smell the Mushrooms

Ding-dong. Ding-dong, ding-dong. Dingdingdingdingding!

"Hold on a minute!" Chris shouted at the doorbell, wiping his brow with the back of his arm, one hand holding a knife and the other holding a carrot.

It was Thanksgiving, that funny holiday that us Americans celebrate to remember when some people with religious preservation in mind came to the continent and had some shaky dealings with the Natives, eventually getting along (for a little while).

Like any holiday, it's stressful, and Chris was only just beginning to realize that now, since he was stuck preparing dinner this year and for a big group of people… half of the people they knew, at least.

Claire, whose idea it was to have a party in the first place, was supposed to be answering the door, but she wasn't anywhere in sight.

"Claire?" Chris called, "Are you going to get the door?"

No response came, except for the impatient dinging of the doorbell again. He sighed to himself, set down the knife and went to the door. He opened it, coming face to face with their first guest of the day, Steve.

"Hi, Chris," the redhead said happily, and then giving him a funny look asked, "Why do you have a carrot in your hand?"

Chris looked down, and indeed, he still had the carrot in hand. "Uh… I was peeling it when you rang. Claire, Steve is here!"

There was a crash somewhere towards the back of the house, and she poked her head around the corner, covered in dust.

"What was that?" Chris asked, and his sister laughed awkwardly.

"I fell out of the attic."

The two guys exchanged looks and then Steve stepped inside, holding up a plastic bag. "I brought my Xbox."

"Really? That's funny… I just found our old Nintendo 64 in a box up there," she replied, indicating the direction of the attic. "You know what that means?"

"Conker's Bad Fur Day?" Steve asked.

She nodded, and they went off into the living room together, while Chris just shook his head and went back to the kitchen. He had a very vague memory of ever owning an N64… and even then, he didn't remember anything about it. Or Conker's Bad Fur Day, for that matter.

The day progressed rather slowly from that point; Chris doing all the cooking himself, Claire and Steve talking about nothing other than some bizarre plan to hook up the Xbox and N64 and run them simultaneously (not that that would accomplish anything), the rest of their guests showing up with the hopes of getting drunk, and eventually, Chris falling asleep on the couch right after they had eaten.

After a very long nap, Chris stretched and yawned, his sleep having been interrupted by a gravelly voice running off a string of profanity, and Claire informing Steve that there was no way he could win now. They had been playing around with that old Nintendo 64 that had been in the attic since dinner.

"What time is it?" Chris mumbled, opening his eyes just in time to see a weasel in a red-striped shirt whack another weasel in a yellow-striped shirt over the head with a baseball bat and start chasing a bag of money that was hopping.

"Almost Midnight," Steve answered, and Chris groaned.

"Is anyone still here?"

"Everyone is still here," Claire said, pausing the game. "They all kind of over did it with the eggnog and whatnot."

Chris looked around groggily. Their guests were scattered around, sleeping in various spots; at the table, on the floor… under the table.

It was very odd what can happen when you invite a lot of people over and let them drink. Anyway, Chris didn't have the vigor to wake them up and form more comfortable sleeping arrangements.

"I'm going to bed," he said, getting up uneasily and starting towards his room, almost tripping over Jill, who was sleeping in the middle of the hall, in the process.

"Good night," his sister and Steve called after him in unison.

"Yeah. Good night."

A little while later…

There was a cawing sound nearby, which startled Chris out of sleep; the sound triggering memories of virus-infected crows. He sat up abruptly, and looked around, expecting to see his room. But that's not what he laid eyes upon.

"Where am I?"

He was in a grassy spot on a riverbank, shadowed by a moss-draped precipice. To his left was a small vegetable patch where a badly made scarecrow appeared to be neglected, while to the right, a river flowed, gathering around a small island in the middle of the water that overlooked three rocky protuberances. And dead ahead, only a few feet away, was something red and furry, lying perfectly still.

Chris drew a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. He had been in very strange and disturbing situations not unlike this before, but not quite as troubling in this manner. He didn't have the slightest idea where he was or even what the thing nearby was. Slowly, he got to his feet and inched towards the red fluff ball, thinking that maybe it was a dead fox or something. When he got within a foot, though, he froze in his tracks, a feeling of having walked into the Night Gallery washing over him.

The creature before him was on his back with his eyes tightly shut, while a white-tipped tail twitched slightly. He had on a sky blue hoodie, with blue and yellow sneakers… and appeared to be a squirrel.

Chris stared at the anomaly for a while in complete silence, before he slowly sat back down on the ground in a combination of uncertainty and alarm. He had seen a lot of unbelievable things, but nothing compared to this. He was attempting to gather what was still remaining of his composure, when suddenly the red squirrel sat up and forcefully cleared his throat like he was going to choke on something.

"Oh no…" he muttered to himself, "It's going to be one of those days."

Chris just stared, way too disturbed to move.

The red squirrel got to his feet, his back to Chris, rocking back and forth tipsily, while his tongue hung out of his mouth. He went to take a couple of steps forward, lost his balance and spun around clumsily, catching a glimpse of his company. "Who are you?" he asked in a fatigued voice, looking Chris over with his badly bloodshot eyes. When the man didn't answer, the squirrel waved his hand back and forth in front of his face. "Hello? Is anybody home?"

"I have to be dreaming… This is some kind of bad dream…"

The squirrel shook his head. "No… I'm pretty sure this is reality."

The scarecrow in the nearby vegetable patch suddenly made a snorting sound, and Chris jumped to his feet and started to inch away by instinct, only to fall into the river. He splashed around for a moment while the inebriated squirrel just watched, until he finally got a hold of the earth and pulled himself back onto land. A look of distress came over him as he shook off.

"I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"Maybe he can help," the squirrel replied, pointing to the scarecrow before heading towards the patch. Chris followed apprehensively, not sure at this point if he was sane or not. When they came within a foot of the scarecrow, it suddenly stirred, flailing around and looking back and forth with a startled "Wha's that, wha's that? Uh, who are you?"

The scarecrow wasn't exactly your typical, everyday version. It had an oddly shaped head, with no definite eyes, just black hollows that were utterly disturbing, but perceptibly arcane. The material it was made from was badly sewn together with large, inconsistent stitches that ran along the sides of its head and over the mouth, just loose enough for the creature to talk. The bag that formed its head stopped at the neck, creating a collar covering the top of its red shirt. Below the shirt, was the worn 'CORN'.

"Hello, can you help me… us? I need to get home and go to bed, 'cause I don't feel very well at all," the squirrel said in a slightly slurred voice.

The somewhat disoriented scarecrow thought briefly. "Er… Home? No! No…"

"So you can't help me at all?" he glanced at Chris, who remained silent.

"Eh actually, yes I can. Maybe…"

"Okay. What's your name?"

"Birdy." The scarecrow flapped his hands like wings.

"Beardy? But you haven't got a beard."

"No, Birdy, I scare birdies!" he answered, still flapping.

"Okay, Birdy. So how can you help?"

"Right. Step over here." Birdy spun around and pointed to what looked like an octagonal wood platform marked with a 'B'. Neither of them had a clue what it was, but they went around and stood on it anyway.

"Now, you see those buttons… Actually, you'll find that, eh, they're called context sensitive. And eh, well, actually they, eh… Press B," Birdy explained, scratching his head. While his small, red companion seemed to know what the scarecrow was talking about, Chris was totally clueless.

"Press B," the squirrel repeated.

"Oh yeh, the light comes on, and it makes this noise, ting! Ting noise…"

A light bulb appeared over the B pad they were on, making a high-pitched chime sound.

"There you go, ting. That's it."

"That's it?"

"Yeh."

"Okay, I'll press B."

Chris watched him closely, trying to understand what they meant by 'press B', but the squirrel just stood there, until the light bulb disappeared and he suddenly pulled out a bottle of beer. Birdy took it and dumped the whole thing in his mouth with nothing more than an 'I don't mind if I do'.

"So, what does that mean?"

"It means context sensitive… It's sensitive to context! Try it over there." He pointed to another B pad on the other side of the fence, only a yard or two from where they had woken up, as the gate swung open.

"Okay," the squirrel said wearily.

"Or you could try it again," Birdy suggested leaning heavily against a signpost reading "Feck off crows", and he did, this time pulling out a tank of helium which the scarecrow inhaled without any hesitation.

"Really nice helium," he commented. The light bulb popped up yet again, and produced another bottle of beer.

"Ah, don't mind if I do! Thank you very much." Birdy chugged it. "I am going to bed now. Night-night."

Man and squirrel exchanged odd looks, before heading to the other B pad when Birdy immediately began to snore again. At the other octagon marked with a B, Chris' intoxicated acquaintance pulled out a glass of water and some alka-seltzer, drinking the fizzing concoction and suddenly perking up. He tossed the glass, and scratched his left ear.

"Wow, just what I needed. In fact, it would seem to me that these give me just what I need, at that moment in time. Oh, I see what he means, context sensitive. Clever!"

"What now?" Chris asked, getting up the nerve to speak for the first time in a while, as the initial shock was starting to wear off.

"Right! I feel loads better. Let's get out of here."

"I never caught your name," Chris said, striking up a conversation as they began to walk, "I'm Chris Redfield."

"Conker," the squirrel replied, and it suddenly hit Chris where he was.

"I'm in that game??" he thought to himself, looking around. "How the hell did that happen?"

His thoughts were interrupted when Conker stopped at the edge of the river, looking out over the water to where the small piece of land separated the flow into two.

"Guess that's the only way to go."

"I'm about twice your height, so I could give you a ride across," Chris suggested, but Conker seemed hesitant. "It would save time."

"Eh, if it saves time," he agreed.

Once Chris had piggybacked him across the water, Conker stopped to examine a log jutting out of the cliff wall closest to the left of the island, just above where the river ran over, forming a huge waterfall. He jumped towards it, spinning his tail in a fashion reminiscent of a helicopter propeller and sailed right across the gap, landing safely on the end of the log.

"Think you can make it?" he called back, and Chris looked back and forth from log to land, calculating the distance.

"Yeah. No problem." He ran to the edge, and jumped. And landed flat on his face.

The log was up against a rocky ledge that led to a door with a bridge consisting of nothing more than wood planks and two lengths of rope. Past the (locked) door, was yet another ledge with a rope bridge that took them to another log. And beyond that log, was a stone bridge. Climbing up onto the stone bridge, they found a big lever at their end, and at the other, a big red-eyed gargoyle whose bulk blocked the exit.

"Ah, who's this guy?" Conker muttered and the gargoyle crossed its arms.

"If you think you're coming this way… you can think again."

"You're a real charmer. I just want to get past, please."

"No. I don't think so. I've only just got comfy. Have you ever sat on a piece of gothic architecture for two hundred years? Gets right up your arse, you know. Thought it was about time to move onto a bridge, say, and I'm not moving now," he warned, crossing his arms again.

"Isn't it a little bit early in the day to start talking about 'gothic architecture'?" Conker mocked, and it took on a sarcastically polite tone.

"Well, if you care to come a bit closer, we can discuss things of another nature."

"Okay," Chris said, walking right up to the stone monster. "What happens now?"

The gargoyle knocked him clear off the bridge, sending him flying through the air, and landing in the rocky pool about four stories below.

"Ouch…"

While Conker waited for him to find the way back up, he decided to see what the lever at the end of the bridge would do. When he pulled it down, the locked door two ledges back swung open, and he went to meet Chris there.

Bruised and battered Chris finally joined him, dragging his feet as he slouched forward.

"Lets see what's in here."

They went in together, and upon entering, the doors closed tight behind them. The room was basically a cave with the ceiling being held up by hourglass-shaped stone pillars, and hopping around was a key Conker's size… with eyes.

"Leon! I mean, Chris!" it said in a whiny voice, and they were both taken aback.

"You know a key?" Conker asked, and it hopped up to them, bouncing up and down spiritedly.

"Thank god someone else is here, too! I didn't know what was going to happen to me and now - "

Chris thought back to everyone he knew… and there was only one person who sounded as annoying as that key. "Wait… Ashley? Is that you?" he questioned.

"Yes!" the key said, still gleeful to have been found, "I woke up this morning and I was a giant key!"

"I woke up this morning and I was stuck here," Chris replied.

"I woke up this morning and I had a hangover," Conker added.

"Okay, so I'm not here alone. But why did your preppy self get turned into a key?"

"I don't know, but… hey! I'm not preppy!" Ashley replied, and when he ignored her she started running around screaming that she wasn't a prep.

"We've got to get out of here," he said to Conker, and Conker agreed.

"Yeah, but how? Wait, I've got it!"

The red squirrel ran up to Ashley, who was still spazzing out, and whacked her in the face with an oversized frying pan he had in his pocket, knocking her on her ass. With that, he picked her up and carried her over to the door, where he shoved her into the enormous keyhole, unlocked it and let her go.

"Eww!" she shouted hopping around in a small circle like mad, "That was a violation of my personal space!"

The two guys paid her no mind, and began to head back across the ledges toward the stone bridge, stopping only when she came after them shrieking 'wait for me!' until Chris went back and carried her from ledge to ledge.

On the stone bridge, they walked up to the gargoyle and Conker fearlessly smacked him with the frying pan.

"Ha! A frying pan," the monster laughed, standing up. "You stupid little…" Conker waved goodbye as it lost its balance and fell off the bridge screaming all the way down until it landed head first in the pool, shaking the whole chasm and knocking loose a boulder in front of the exit, blocking it.

"Wait here. I have an idea," Conker said to Chris and Ashley, as he climbed up the boulder, and jumped onto a platform attached to the wall of rock on the right of the bridge. Just as he suspected, there was an octagon with a B. After the ting, he pulled out the perfect thing to fix the boulder problem.

"Plunger, with dynamite. I think I know what's going to happen now." He detonated the dynamite, sending large rock fragments everywhere, and causing Ashley to wig out.

"Watch what you're doing!" she screamed.

"Whoa, yep, fantastic! Let's go and get some shuteye. Finally!" he said to himself cheerfully, jumping back down onto the bridge and gesturing for them to follow.

Meanwhile, in the nearby castle…

Professor Von Kripelspac, the weasel scientist, was prepping himself to meet with the Panther King about a problem that had come up during the night. He wasn't looking forward to it, but then again, he never did.

If given the choice, he wouldn't have been making his way to the throne room, but he didn't have a choice and that was what bugged him the most. He had been someone once – more specifically, a leader with interesting fashion sense and legs – but now he was just a pawn; a lonely, legless pawn confined to technology's answer to the conventional wheelchair. He didn't have much of a say in his own life, but that would change soon. He would see to it.

When the doors opened, Von Kripelspac found the king as he usually did, perched grumpily in his throne with a lackey on either side. Everything was as it usually was; a disturbing lack of decoration, a short-fused king constantly drinking milk, and a poor excuse for a functioning table at his side. Everything was routine, except for what was about to happen next.

"Aah, Professor. Welcome," the Panther King murmured, trilling in between words.

The Professor just gave him a reverent nod.

"I have a job for you, as you can see… The table." He motioned to the table on his right, which for whatever reason had been missing the front left leg for quite some time.

"Ze table, ah yes. So you have spilt ze milk again? That's not gūt, not gūt. Let me have a look at it for you." He came a bit closer in his hovering chair, and looked over the three-legged table carefully. "Yes, I think I see the problem! I vill see vat I can do. You must give me a moment, though. I vill come back later."

"Don't be too long," the Panther King cautioned.

"Aha, I vill be as quick as I can, Sire."

"Cos you know what happened last time."

He laughed nervously. "Only too well, only too well. I vill go now."

"I don't want to get the duct tape out again."

"Yes, I mean no! I don't vant you to get the duct tape out again!" Although Von Kripelspac was trying to be on the good-humored side, his voice was quickly taking on a panicky tenor. "Goodbye, goodbye."

But before he could leave, there was a sudden flutter of movement from behind, and an unfamiliar voice calmly commanded, "Everyone stay exactly where you are."

Two men, one in all black with sunglasses on and another in a white lab coat, stepped out from behind the curtains on either side of the window in a fashion reminiscent of Hamlet (except no one got stabbed).

"Who are you?" the Panther King growled, and the man in black just smirked slightly.

"I'm here to take your place as king," he answered casually.

"Absurd!"

"Not at all. You see, I woke up here this morning, and I intend to use it to my advantage."

The King's two lackeys snorted, apparently amused by the thought of anyone thinking it would be so easy to overthrow the Panther King.

"Now, if you'll excuse yourself from my court…" he said, and his companion pulled out a slice of pizza and chucked it at the King, for it to land right on his head. Before he could even react, two gigantic white tendrils with intermittent red polka dots threw the doors open and went straight for the pizzafied panther, wrapping around him completely and dragging him out, the doors closing behind them.

"See?" the man in black said to his cohort, "I told you that mushroom would take to the virus well. And it likes pizza, too, just like those shroom-eating plumbers in that game."

"Right, right. Are you certain it won't eat him?"

"I locked the door to the room it's in. He should be fine."

The Professor and the lackeys just stared at them, at a total loss for words. The guy in black sat down in the huge thrown, the other standing at his side.

"You two," he said to the lackeys, "Go find a place to keep the panther where he won't cause problems."

Without a word, they were off, not keen on testing this new guys patience.

"Now, now. Professor, I've heard quite a bit about you in the short time I've been here, and I think you could be of great use to me."

The Professor didn't know exactly how to react to that. "Err… Vat did you have in mind?" he asked, slowly approaching the guy.

"I have this problem. You see, there are a few people that I've been trying to get rid of for a long time. And from what I gather, they are here too. That's where you could potentially do me an immense service. First off, there are two that I need to find, because I think they're responsible for us ending up here."

He nodded. That sounded simple enough. The New King handed him a photo of a ponytailed woman and a young man with bright red hair.

"And once they're found, I have something for you to work on that will be greatly worth your while… Turning the previous king into a biological weapon. My royal advisor, William, will assist you." He indicated his companion, who just observed Von Kripelspac somberly.

The thought of turning the Panther King into a biological weapon pleased the Professor greatly. After all of the time he had spent in assistance to that dictator, he could finally get back at him for it. Revenge is indeed sweet.

"My pleasure, Sire," he replied to the New King, rubbing his paws together in anticipation. "I vill do my best to solve ze dilemma. But first, may I ask your name?"

"Wesker. King Wesker."

"All hail King Vesker," Von Kripelspac said amiably, giving a bow of respect before he retreated back to the haven of his workplace.

Once there, he began to contemplate how to approach the tribulations set before him by the new king… as well as his lingering abhorrence of the previous one.

"Duct tape…" he muttered, "I'll give him a duct tape, fucking arsehole. I'll come down here, I'll show him where the duct tape is, I'll show him where to stuff it! All I ever did vas try and sort his stupid fucking problems out! I hate that fucker! Anyway, vat ver ve? Ze finding of ze two people, and ze weapon. Vat shall ve do vit zis? Clean slate, ja, clean slate." He turned to a square of chocolate that was floating unsteadily. "Anti-gravity chocolate… Is kinda vurking. Ah, zat vill do. Out ze fucking vindow vit zat!"

And without a second's hesitation, he knocked possibly the most harmless of his experiments right out the window. But reflecting on that, he began to ask himself… Where was the fun in something harmless?

Back where we left off…

Conker, Chris and Ashley walked into one of the sunniest places they could have ever imagined, surrounded by the greens of summer and mysterious pieces of floating chocolate. With a quick look around, Chris knew exactly what to say.

"Ashley, Conker… I don't think we're in that place we were just in, anymore."

Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who

Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through,

Not one returns to tell us of the Road

Which to discover we must travel too.

The Rubaiyat

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I know I didn't say exactly who was at the dinner party, but that's because I'm not fully certain who I'm putting in this yet, and who I'm not, although I am aiming for most of the RE characters. It mainly depends on who would fit where.

And I know I didn't do much in the way of describing anyone in the scene with the Panther King, but I will get to that. Since this is written third person omniscient, some things I won't describe until I change points of view, mostly because someone sitting there describing themselves in detail in their mind seems a little weird.

Yes, bad spin-off of that famous Wizard of Oz quote at the end – I just couldn't resist. I'm not sure how funny this chapter really is, but either way, the next one will be much more humorous. And I might fool around with the plot a little more. As well as dialogue, because that's always bound to change with the plot… and the fact that I'm not very creative with what profanity to sub in for bleeps – some of them I can figure out, others not. I'm more of a word jumble person.

Well, if you're reading this, leave me a review and let me know what you thought! Every review helps the thought process!