Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own any of these characters. They all belong to Konami, though I would gladly pay any price to be Nash's fairy princess.

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Like most ass-kicking stories, it started with a pirate.

Okay, so maybe Geddoe wasn't exactly a pirate. But he had the eye patch, so the swashbuckling potential is there. You think that, because he looked like a pirate, that would've made him the coolest character in the game, but you'd be wrong, because he was one of those new-age existential nice pirates, and everybody knows that the only reasons pirates kick as much ass as they do is because they're so mean.

Plus, Ged couldn't break dance, which pretty much sets the fine line between a lame pirate and whiz-banging pirate.

But anyway, enough with the pseudo-pirate eye patch. We aren't here to
talk about pirates.

Or are we? I'm not quite sure anymore. Oh damn, I can't say 'I', can I, because this story is being told from the 3rd person? I just counted the words 'I' three times in the last sentence. And twice in that sentence. Gah, screw this.

He was pondering over the plights of the human race and watching the little children of Budehuc playing the courtyard, and they were so carefree about the impending doom of humanity, skipping and laughing. Laughing at him. Now, if he was a pirate like the one mentioned in a previous paragraph, he would've stormed straight into the courtyard, broke up their giddy game of grab-ass with a flame thrower, then called up Hannibal Lector to eat their livers, just for good measure. But of course, he was too blinded by his goth-esque thoughts on the meaning of life to see the beautiful opportunity to rip those little kids a new hole grabbing him by the balls, so he missed his chance.

He's just not worthy of that eye-patch.

Queen was behind him, under the influence of enough liquor and paint thinner to bear asking him what was on his mind. "What are you thinking?"

Of course, un-pirate-like Ged was eager to talk about his feelings. "About how life is one gi-normous kick in the ass. Then while you fold over in pain, life takes a steel chair and slams it into your back. While you're on the ground trying to breathe, life takes its size 14 steel-toe boot and stomps into your ribs. As you can feel your ribcage crush your squishy insides, life then gets into its Cadillac Escalade sitting on 24's and runs over your head. Then life grabs some gasoline and lights your decrepit remains on fire. Then it sleeps with your wife."

Omitting the last part, this might be a good method of operation for dealing with whiny children.

Joker sighed from across the table, over encumbered by bored-ness, tiredly twitching the giant cyst in the middle of his face. Oh wait. That's his nose.

Ace looked at Ged with sparkling eyes, always eager to hear the boss's description about how incapable humans were. As you can feel your ribcage crush your squishy insides. He was in such awe of the poetic flow of Ged's words he was forgetting to breath, and his face turned blue.

"Ace?" Queen could already tell he wasn't breathing, and wondered if it would be wiser to remind him that he had lungs, thus inhaling and exhaling was generally how one stays alive, or if it would just be easier to let him die and steal the money in his pockets to buy rubbing alcohol for a night- cap. "Breathe, you dolt."

Turning into a gelatinous goo over the orgasmically lyrical speech Ged just made about how life sucks, Ace sank back in his chair, finally breathing. "Whoa, I forgot again. Thanks Queen."

"Why did you remind him?" Joker grumbled, his rat-like eyes turning into narrow slits as he zeroed in on Queen.

Not liking the tone Joker just took with her, Queen threw her glass of vodka at Joker, stabbed him in the eye with a knife, and then set him on fire.

Ace nodded in approval. But what was with her stealing his whole setting- Joker-on-fire gig? He was the group's pyromaniac. Who the hell did she think was?

Suddenly, a horrid thought popped into the vacant space that was his head: Queen was competing with him for Geddoe's attention! Of course! It was all so clear now. There was no way that whore was going to steal away his bossman. "Why are you so moody, Queen? Are you having 'woman troubles'?"

"Excuse me? What do you mean by that?"

"Are you 'having the painters in'?"

"What?"

"Are you 'waving the red flag'?"

Queen still had no idea what he was talking about, but speaking like an idiot and pissing her off was a good enough reason to blow his head away. Out of nowhere, a rocket launcher fell into Queen's hands and she fired it at Ace, Matrix style.

"Oh my God, what have I done?" Queen cried, looking over the crumpled bodies of her fallen comrades, and collapsed on top of Joker's ember-and- vodka-covered remains. "I wasted my booze to set this bastard on fire! I'm not worthy of the title alcoholic!" Seeing no reason to live after loosing her designation, Queen hit herself over the head with Ace's sai. Since his weapon was so lame-ass and weak that it barely gave her a bruise, she got really angry at how much Ace sucked, and then died of an aneurysm.

Jacques, who was asleep in his chair, woke up. "....Hey, Ged."

Ged, still annoyed that Queen, Ace and Joker had selfishly disrupted his thoughts to kill each other, hastily asked, "Yeah?"

"Could I have another soda?"

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Although Geddoe didn't do a good job (or any job, rather) terrorizing those worthlessly joyous children, a certain walking, talking, world-destroying sex god was doing excellently silencing them.

Good for him. Finally, somebody respectable. But to protect the lives of the blameless (namely, me) since I really don't want to piss this guy off, I'm not going to be naming names. Okay, I lied. It's Yuber.

So maybe he isn't a pirate, or even a lumberjack, for that matter, but he doesn't have to be. Not only was Yuber orgasmically hot, he had other good qualities too, like his perfectly chiseled exterior, his handsome appearance, and manly good looks. Plus, he was nice to look at.

Yuber, bored as all hell hanging around with Sera, Luc, Albert and their lack of liking to kill things, decided to come to Budehuc Castle to have some good, clean, homicidal fun.

"Run!" one of the children shrilled, looking at Yuber's hat. "It's Michael Jackson!"

Yuber, overcome with offense, stomped the child into the ground and then kicked his pet dog. The other kids giggled in joy as jokes came to mind.

"Hey!" one called. "Why did Michael Jackson go to K-Mart?"

"Why?" one of the others asked, though his face was bright with the knowing of what the punch line was. Yuber struck him down with thunder magic for being such a happy asshole.

"Because there were kid's pants half-off!" And the children started giggling unyieldingly, sending Yuber into a further rage. Not because the joke was particularly offensive, but because that little prick had the audacity to laugh and be happy in front of him.

"Yeah, well," Yuber started, trying to think up a quick retort that fully conveyed how much he wanted them to die. "I'd only go to K-Mart if there were kids heads half-off!"

The children didn't laugh. Not even a friendly chortle. "Dude, that was really corny."

Not only did Yuber not fancy those howling brats questioning his ability to deliver a climactic comeback, he certainly did not like being called dude, like he and those children shared some sort of brotherly camaraderie. He could've slowly tortured them, or continued to make references that fit into his bloodthirsty personality.

"Oh, screw it," Yuber huffed, not feeling up to using his brain. When you're a crazy psychopath bent on world destruction, you don't need a brain. You just need to have a lot of explosives and to sleep with the right people. "I'll just do what I always do." At that point, he summoned a terrible, scathingly hideous demon by the name of Hilary Duff, who proceeded to sing clichéd songs about girl meets boy, boy breaks girls heart, girl runs over boy with her car, in her computerized guttural roar of a voice to the children. And, since little kids are so easy to kill, they died once their ears began bleeding.

Yuber clenched his fist in the air defiantly, laughing manically as the kids started dropping like flies at the sound of her voice. Kind of like Medusa, except instead of looking at her, you had to listen to her, and instead of turning to stone, you'd die. Okay, it isn't anything like Medusa, but it still seemed like a logical analogy before it was explained.

But then, detested to see his homicidal integrity bested by some overly bleached, overly hyped pop star, Yuber was thrown into another fit of fury. This one was easily solved. He bit her head off and, badda-bing, the sun was shining again, and Yuber once more became the cruelest, most feared blond around.

But there was still was always the threat of Jessica Simpson.

"Wh-what happened here?" Sergeant Joe quacked from behind him, his annoyingly bright eyes scanning the dead bodies.

Yuber was feeling hungry, and when he got hungry, he got angry, and when he got angry, he killed things, and he certainly didn't like a duck asking him questions when he was in such a mood. So he struck the damn, dirty bird with fire magic and ate him.

Hey, if you can't beat 'em, eat 'em.

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"You know what?" Caesar said, stubbing out a joint with his lovely stoner foot. "I wish I had a British accent."

"Why?" Flame Champion Hugo hissed. "Why don't you want a Karayan accent? What? Are you too good for us now, or something, you bigot?"

This is proof that the angst-ridden protagonist type of hero is over-played in RPG's.

Caesar was too stoned to comprehend the anger in Hugo's voice. "Nah, it isn't that. It's just everybody listens to you when you have a British accent. It's like automatic respect."

"Uh. huh?"

"Think about it. Bush and Tony Blair say the same exact thing, but Bush always manages to sound like a dumbass, and everybody loves Tony Blair. It's because of the accent, I bet."

"So, you want a British accent so you can be loved like Tony Blair?"

"No, I want one so I can tell Albert that he's an asshole. You see, with my regular accent, if I told him he was an asshole, he'd hire someone to kick my ass. But if I went up to him, with my British accent, and was like, 'Good day, Albert, you're a bloody asshole', he'd be like, 'Hey, you're right. You know, Caesar, you're a great strategist, far better than me. Let's go to Applebee's and get some ribs'."

"Ah. How strong is that stuff you're smoking?"

Caesar shrugged, his head feeling like a balloon. "It's mellow. You should try some."

"I dunno."

"Come on. Stop being such a square."

Don't give into peer pressure, Hugo!

"Okay."

What kind of example is our Flame Champion setting for the youths of Budehuc?

Oh yeah. Yuber killed them all. Ho-hum.

If the True Fire Rune came with an instruction manual, the first page would be about how to lit a joint properly. What else is supernatural power good for?

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"Percy!" Borus cried out desperately from up the foyer of the castle, running down the stairs to his dark haired friend-in-question.

Percival whipped around. "I said that if you ever called me that between the hours of twelve noon and twelve noon, I'd kill you."

"I'm not joking!" Borus panted, catching his breath.

"Neither am I."

"That scary redhead with the hat is after me!"

Suddenly realizing the severity of the situation, Percival's expression sobered. "What does she want?"

"I was too afraid and too far away to ask."

Right on cue, Lilly Pendragon came tearing out of the castle's entrance, her blue eyes searching for a certain blond knight that she had her heart set on grating.

Grating, verb-- 'dating' where one party is groped against his or her will. Dating + groping = grating. Usually referred to as molesting, but with all of this new hip homeboy lingo, grating is more on par with the expectations of this stories target viewers.

Does this story even have target viewers? Oh, I don't know. On with the show.

She ran up to him and tweaked his nose with a slender forefinger. If Borus hadn't been so horrified, he would've probably bitten her, then burned her village and killed everyone, lied about it to his captain, which would further induce a whole lot of crazy shit that resulted in a war where nobody knows what's going on because of his inability to tell the truth, and then he'd finally confess once the truth was weaseled out of him.

Oh, what a woeful web we weave.

"Uh. Lilly," Borus started shakily, clasping Percival's shoulder for support.

"Yes, sugarpie?"

Percival's eye twitched in amusement, wishing suddenly that he had a video- camera to record Borus's embarrassment, but then realizing the he lived in a medieval time setting. Well, that sucks.

"I'm gay," Borus finished quickly. It was the only excuse he could think of.

Lilly stepped back. "Yo, seriously?"

"Uh-huh." He nodded miserably, putting his hands on his hips in the
most effeminate way possible. Percival laughed. Borus, smiling maliciously at his friend, added, "I'm gay with Percival."

Percival stopped. "Wha?"

"Oh, really?"

"Yep." Borus stroked Percival's cheek gently, daring Percival to kick his ass.

Percival was utterly shocked, but, seeing the confused expression on Lilly's face, he couldn't resist screwing around with her. "That's right, you best be steppin' down, girlfren'."

"You thought I was interested in Borus?" Lilly scowled, obviously going through a withdrawal of some sort. Or maybe she was having her period. "I always had a feeling that he was on the gay side. I just didn't want to hurt his feelings." Lilly turned to leave, but before she did, she hurriedly asked, "So, if you don't mind me asking, which one of you is the bitch?"

"He is," they both replied in unison.

Lilly looked unconvinced.

"Oh uh, what we mean is, there is an equal bitchdom in the relationship," Percival corrected.

"I see." Lilly nodded, though she wasn't really interested anymore. She saw Nash standing in the courtyard, sweating from a long jog he'd just finished, and was shirtless.

That lucky, lucky bitch.

"Thank you, Percival!" Borus burbled, hugging him.

"Get off of me." Percival pushed him away. "Just for the record, I'm not gay."

"Whatever you say, 'girlfren'."

"I'm not."

"Hey, I believe you, hot lips."

"I'll kill you."

"If you ever need a hand to hold, you know where to find me."

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The End

Questions to Ponder Over Until the Next Chapter:

Will Ged start busting out and become the pirate that we all know he is deep down?

Will Yuber ever stop with the killing? Yes, I know. Stupid question.

Will Hugo become a drug addict? Will he do all sorts of kinky shit in the process?

Will Caesar get the British accent he so deeply desires?

Will Nash, God bless him, be able to escape Lilly's clutches?

Will Percival and Borus keep up with their act? Will they ever find out who the true bitch is?

It's unlikely, but it could happen.