Season of the Bitch Sidestory [VISION QUEST Act 1]

CH13F PROS3CUTOR’S OFF1C3 >: ) 

D3NV3R, COLOR4DO

A Tuesday morning [Late October 2016, remember?]

            “Maybe legalizing weed was a bad idea for this state…” Emily tried to reorient after a long night celebrating Terezi’s inexplicable ascension to legitimate legal power. “Did a single person in the police department or local government ask to see your qualifications?”

            “TH3Y'D H4V3 TO BE BL1ND TO NOT S33 TH4T 1'M TH3 B3ST S34T FOR TH1S POS1T1ON" Terezi spun around her red desk chair for the hundredth time. “YOU R34LLY OUTSHON3 TH1S T1M3, 3M1LY; 1 W3NT FROM M1NOR L34GU3 M3SS UP TO M4JOR C4S3 SQU4D 1N L3SS TH4N 72 HOURS" She felt over the fresh Braille printing on a piece of evidence for her first ‘real’ case. The pawns in forensics called it ‘2High4U’ and left a note that it had to be destroyed after inspection. Officially, the drug was so new that no laws currently existed surrounding it. “WH4T'S TO STOP YOU FROM RUNN1NG FOR 4 R34L S34T OF POW3R? JUST 1M4G1N3 4LL TH3 JUST1C3 W3 COULD M3T3 OUT"

           “I only transformed you because we’re friends and you were in a tight spot. It’s not as though I go around transforming people for petty reasons.” Emily took her morning pills with one of the few drinks they hadn’t opened the night before. “Are you sure that you’re fine with being blind now? I can repair the nerve damage before I leave.”

            “1F SUCH 4 CUR3 W3R3 TH4T S1MPL3 FOR TH3 SOURC3 M4T3R14L, SH3'D B3 W44Y MOR3 BOOR1NG" Terezi took a whiff from the contents of the bag. It seemed exactly like a mix of soap, scented candles and Doritos dust. “WHY SHOULD 1 D3PR1V3 TH1S C1TY OF WH4T TH3Y N33D, 4 H3RO SOOO COMM1TT3D TO JUST1C3 1T M4D3 TH3M BL1ND? PLUS, W3 D1D SP3ND 4 D4Y CH4NG1NG 4LL OF MY R3CORDS TO JUST1FY MY B31NG... W3LL, M3" Retroactively writing a ‘Theresa Pyron’ into existence could be a story all of its own. “W41T, 1SN'T TH3R3S4 WH4T YOU C4LL YOUR MOM?”

            “It’s my grandmother’s name… and my middle name.”

            “H3H3H3H3H. R3M3MB3R WH3N YOU CONV1NC3D 3V3RYON3 TH4T TH3 'T' 1N1T14L W4S FOR T3N4C1OUS? 1NST34D YOUR M1DDL3 N4M3 1S 4S BL4ND 4S LUSUS' COOK1NG, 4ND SH3'S BL1ND!” Terezi sealed the bag. “1F YOU C4N M4K3 M3 SO R4D1C4L, TH3N WHY NOT GIV YOURS3LF TH4T 4W3SOM3 M4K3OV3R YOU W4NT SOO B4D?”

            “I’m fine with how things turned out.”

            “OH, PUH-L34S3! WH4T H4PP3N3D TO TH4T STRONG DR1V3 FROM COLL3G3? WHY W4S 1 TH3 ONLY ON3 TO GO TO L4W SCHOOL, WH3N 1 W4SN'T 3V3N TH3 FIT? YOU... W3LL..." No reason to sugarcoat. “YOU STOPP3D B31NG YOU FOR 4 GOOD WH1L3.”

            “What is that supposed to mean, ‘Alex’?”

             “YOU KNOW 3X4CTLY WH4T 4 M34N, 'VR1SK4'... 1 KN3W YOU WH3N YOU W3R3 D4NG3ROUS, BUT NOW YOU'R3 JUST... UNSTABL3; YOU'D PROB4BLY SMOK3 TH1S 1F 1 L3T YOU, WOULDN'T YOU?"

            Emily took the ‘dare’ from the blind prosecutor without a moment’s hesitation. Everything seemed normal until she took the first hit. Something was very amiss. “This isn’t weed, Terezi.”

            “H3H3H3H3H.” Terezi’s laugh faded along with all of the noise in the room. Then the colors left apart from just enough black to denote lines. Soon even the lines were gone. The room flickered inconsistently between black and white. Shit, Emily was having a seizure.

            Void

            White

            Void

            Falling in…

            White

            Baby screaming…

            Emily jolted back to what she thought was reality. She was in a hospital with countless tubes connected to her. It hurt too much to even try moving. All that she could do was flail around trying to tell that kid to shut up. No one responded and she couldn’t read the clock with her glasses off. If only she could manually try to read something for the classic ‘am I dreaming’ test. Why wouldn’t someone shut up that crying baby?

            Emily’s eyelids felt too heavy for her to do anything other than fallback to sleep.  The void still commanded her body. Suspension in the void brings the only solace from the screaming. Shades of black and white throughout the void rotate through fixed circular patterns in an exact time frame of 15 seconds. Time, or at least the illusion of it, exists here as long as Emily wants it.

    Is this death? It can’t be since there was no judgment. Oh fuck, I was right about the end being erasure from existence. Why hasn’t it happened yet? No release. Only suspension… and now the baby screaming is audible again. Maybe this will all end if… I… stop… think… ing.

    “Rise and shine, ladies!” Emily opened her eyes to catch a glimpse of a ruggedly handsome man who was in charge wherever she now was. She yawned thinking nothing of the event until she saw three armed soldiers walk by her. “That wasn’t a suggestion! Asset will arrive in five minutes.” He struck a power pose to intimidate her. “Am I really expected to believe that a costume-wearing jet jockey is necessary for an extraction mission?”

    “Jet jockey?” Emily mumbled to herself as she stood up to take-in her surroundings. She, the man and a count of five soldiers were on a plane. The whole setup was familiar, yet distant. Panic set-in once Emily caught a glimpse of blonde hair in her peripheral view. “I… I…” On second utterance, her voice didn’t sound right either. “I need to use the bathroom.” She ran into the small bathroom near the cockpit and slammed the door.

    “Is she going to be long in there?” The balding soldier commented. “I really need to take a piss.”

    “Go piss outside, Pvt. Hugh. Uzbekistan doesn’t have any rules against that.” The man in charge ordered. “Smee and Button-lee secure the LZ. Maimen, check the briefcase and make sure Air Force girl does her job. Gtezda, you stay in the plane until further instruction.” His men followed through with their orders. They had a lot of loyalty for Delta Force soldiers assigned to a simple ‘snatch and grab’ job.

    The downside of an improvised bathroom on a military use plane is that there is a distinct lack of features that make confirming your identity difficult. For example, it lacked anything even resembling a mirror. Emily was limited to what she could see from her PoV. Blonde hair, a black outfit and the yellow lightning bolt suggested Ms. Marvel, but how could that be possible in Christopher Nolan’s masterpiece? Nolan insisted on no ‘magic’ and the prospect of sticking in a character from the competing company made absolutely no sense.

    “Miss?” Maimen knocked on the door. “I don’t know how or why you’re here, but we don’t need any dead weight. If the Agency put you here, it must have been for a reason. No need to be afraid of field work.”

    “I’m not scared…” Emily opened the door. “I’m simply disoriented and wondering how I got here.”

    “Aren’t we all?” Maimen gestured to the briefcase. “Ask CIA to debrief you once we’re back at Langley. Better yet…” He handed it over to her. “Why don’t you give him the case as a gesture of good will?”

    Emily nodded, took the glorified luggage and headed down the stairs. CIA, the man of the hour, stood in his iconic pose tempting fate. “Mr. Wilson, I apologize for the earlier issue.” 

     CIA shrugged as a rugged vehicle drove towards the aircraft. “You’re only here because these Central-Asian types think that any ‘costumed’ American is capable of killing them in their sleep. For your sake, I hope they’re right.” He critically looked over Emily’s costume. “So, what are you? Lightning Lady? Storm Bitch?” He took the briefcase. “Stand over there near Smee. Try your best to look like the ‘scariest thing’ since the drone program.” A cushy job in either New York City or Washington DC would be worth the absurdity of the day. “I’ll focus on getting the 411 on Bane.”

    The pacing of the events proceeded exactly as one would expect. Time even managed to skip ahead to when the plane was already flying again. Emily tried in vain to warn CIA about the impending threat. Fate didn’t want her to change the sacred order.

    CIA and Getzda held the second hooded prisoner partially out of the backdoor in hopes that they would be more cooperative. “TELL ME ABOUT BANE. WHY DOES HE WEAR THE MASK?” A scripted pause gave Emily the tantalizing opportunity to warn CIA. Alas, the future refused to change. “LOTTA LOYALTY FOR A HIRED GUN.”

    “Or perhaps he’s wondering why someone would shoot a man before throwing him out of a plane.” The third hooded figure taunted.

    “It’s a trap!” Emily blurted out. No one cared, though.

    “At least you can talk! Who are you?” CIA inquired the big guy.

    “It doesn’t matter who we are, what matters is our plan.” CIA removed the hood to expose Bane. “No one cared who I was until I put on the mask.”

   “If I pull that off, would you die?”

    “It would be extremely painful.”

    “You’re a big guy.”

    “For you.”

    Emily inserted herself between CIA and Bane. Her chance to change the course of cinematic history had come. She threw the nastiest right hook that she could muster at the mercenary mastermind. Bane looked unfazed upon impact. “No! This can’t be happening! I’m in charge here!” She blurted out in frustration. Reshoots took effect.

    “Was getting caught part of your plan?” Bane mocked Emily.

    “Of course.” CIA said for some reason. “We had to find out what she could do.”

    “Nothing! She can do nothing!” Dr. Pavel interjected.

    CIA glared at Emily. “Congratulations! You got yourself caught!”

    Maimen looked down at the floor as the sound of a larger plane could be heard overhead. “Sir?”

    “Now what’s the next step of your master plan?” The pilots said over the intercom.

    “Crashing this plane…” Bane stood up. “WITH NO SURVIVORS!” He pulled Emily into a headlock that let him use her as a human shield. CIA’s men didn’t have a chance to shoot her because Bane’s own men attacked from the sides. “A pity that you didn’t even put up a real fight. You might as well be a child in a Halloween costume. You’re incapable of a fight or…” The back section of the plane detached sooner than in the proper scene. “FLIGHT!” Bane threw Emily out of the opening into the unfriendly skies. The altitude was too low to recover, yet too high to survive a plummet.

    The void wasn’t death. Whatever this represented was. Emily blinked a moment prior to the projected impact. The limitations of the scenario meant death on impact. An unexpected perspective switch came at the moment of oblivion. 



Perhaps it would be best if we jumped to another girl for the moment.

A young woman stands inside her bedroom. It just so happens that today, April 1^st 2017, has no significance since this is a flashback! What did you expect? This day to be her birthday? How cliché. THOUGH, she does need to tweak her name for our narrative. Being an adaptation, we can give her a different name. What shall we call her?

>enter name.

----,------ [Four character first name; six character last name]

Fart Douche

WRONG.

 >enter name… again.

EMMY LEREES

Much better than an owner of a broken keyboard, eh?

>Emmy: examine room.

Your name is EMMY! As stated before, the current day has NO real significance to this story at all! You REALLY should check the calendar on your wall and your computer clock to get fully oriented…

>Emmy: check CALENDAR.

How can you examine the room without knowing the FULL layout? Now, back to my exposition… You are standing against the door to your room. Immediately to your left is your main clothing drawer and on your right is the computer desk. Moving into the room reveals a taller dress along the wall with your bunk bed to the right and your closet door to the left.  Along the other side of the room, including the windows, is a mix of shelving units, more drawers and various plastic structures. Now, since you were patient, I’ll tell you EXACTLY which wall the CALENDER is on. It’s on the wall right next to the computer desk/next to the door. NOW you may…

>Emmy: check CALENDAR again.

Today is June 8^th, 2004. Your school year ended yesterday and now you need to figure out what you’re going to do for the summer. You eye your computer anxiously hoping to explore the LIMITLESS potential your 2mb/s DSL connection will permit you.

>Emmy: turn on COMPUTER

Before you get too excited, you look over the PC more critically. You turn on the bulky 21 inch CRT monitor to allow it time to warm up before powering up the computer tower. Unlike many of your peers, you have a custom-built system from a local company rather than an iMac or that one Dell computer everyone seems to have. The downside of this is that you need to bluff a bit about the specs.

>Emmy: face the SPECs.

There’s no pretending around this. You have a Celeron-based system running Windows 98 SE in 2004. Embarrassing, right? Still, at least you actually have almost unlimited PC time access as opposed to ‘that kid’ with a Pentium 4 and just as many siblings sharing the system. Plus, you have a DVD player in the system. Your system isn’t going to do any RADICAL gaming, unfortunately. Uggh… Windows updated again? You might as well examine some other things while you wait.

>Emmy: examine other THINGS

Looking all over your room fills in the gaps about your interests. You have an uncomfortable interest in aviation, particularly World War II-era aircraft. While many young women in your position would have posters of Orlando Bloom, Daniel RadCliffe or Johnny Depp, you have WWII aircraft informational posters up. You have other interests, but they’ll come up sporadically in chat logs. You’d BETTER read all of them or else a LOT of future content won’t make much sense.

>Emmy: reveal other interests.

Begrudgingly, your avatar reveals more of your interests. You open one of the tall dresser drawers to reveal your video game collection. You have a Sega Genesis, Nintendo 64, Dreamcast, a Gamecube setup in another room and a few handhelds. There’s also a pair of fake arms for some reason.

>Emmy: take fake arms.

No. We’re not going down that road. Why don’t you check the computer?

>Emmy: check to see if the computer is ready.

The computer is at the login screen.

>Emmy: log-on computer 

Accessing the computer gives you the current time! It is 9:45 AM. That means both of your parents have gone to work. You gain access to the boundless wonders of the INTERNET! You have a routine that must be adhered to first. You’re a creature of habit.

>Emmy: visit deviantArt.

This was when you needed to use a school computer or a library computer to setup an account, remember? You won’t get around to doing that for at least a year.

>Emmy: do your routine.

Your routine is essential to how you get up-to-date info about all of your favorite games. How else will you be able to keep up the Gamecube Crusade? You find it hilarious that the ‘PS2 kids’ at schools were SO desperate to play Melee on your Gamecube during the ‘Last Day’ Party at school the day before. You hit ALL of the gaming websites for reliable info: IGN, Gamespot and Gamespy. Not much new today.

>Emmy: make sure that your parents are actually gone.

You have the house all to yourself. Promise.

>Emmy: Risky Business time.

You take out the Ray-Bans you got from a relative and slide them over your regular glasses. Glasses stacking is so awesome and you wonder why it hasn’t caught on more. You almost forgot that you DON’T need to put on your school uniform today. This plaid jumper isn’t cool enough for the stacked glasses look.

>Emmy: change outfit.

You run into the closet to change into a far more casual outfit. Since you’re a young woman, we’ll give you privacy.

>Emmy: resume Risky Business time

You exit the closet in your ‘Absolutely Radical’ outfit that includes the previously mentioned stacked glasses, black sleep pants and an incredibly oversized black shirt with a lightning bolt on it. The shirt itself is a very large Grateful Dead shirt from the time when your mother was a Deadhead. Don’t ask. Now you’re ready to rock.

>Emmy:  attempt to ‘rock’.

You enter ‘Newgrounds’ into Google and click the top result. The time has come to be edgy.

>Emmy: define ‘edgy’.

‘Edgy’ is a pretty ambiguous term that is difficult to define. For your interests, the pinnacle of ‘edgy’ is a chain of profane terms used along with EXTREME escalations of emotion prior to senseless acts of violence. You think that Family Guy is funny.

>Emmy: examine the front page.

Your jaw drops at the sight of a ‘Mario Vs. Sonic’ flash on the front page that is marked as ‘uncensored’. THIS IS GOING TO BE SO COOL!

>Emmy: unleash the DSL kraken and watch that flash.

The flash loads in a matter of seconds. Unfortunately, you forgot that AIM logs you in automatically. Someone is messaging you.

>Emmy: check AIM.

Your AIM username is PlaneLover22. Your typing quirk is that you write all of your messages properly. Some consider this snobbish, but you consider it common decency.

>Emmy: check messages.

You click to discover that the message is from one of your ‘friends ONLY due to parents knowing one another’ classmates. Oh joy. You really should make a secondary account away from these people.

>Emmy: engage in chat.

_NewsKid poked PlaneLover22_

NewsKid: Emmi! It’s been SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO long since we last chatted.

PlaneLover22: Classes only ended yesterday. You sat three desks away from me.

NewsKid: I know, but I have to keep up appearances. I AM going to be student body president next year. Word is that the vice president position MIGHT open up.

PlaneLover22: If I had known you would whine about the election this much, I would have faked being sick on debate day.

NewsKid: I’m not whining! I’m simply reminding everyone that I’m the president AND the head of the newspaper. I’m an inspiration to all of the other classes! The first female to hold both positions at one time!

PlaneLover22: Do you think I care?

_NewsKid has logged off_

>Emmy: return to watching your flash.

Uggh, NewsKid is the absolute worst. She’s the type of girl who isn’t pretty enough to be in the ‘traditional’ popular club, can’t play sports at ALL and assumes that power is the solution. You were the fat kid for years, so you’ve never been out of the ‘freaks’ group.

The flash unfolds exactly as you expected: Sonic screaming ‘fuck you’ before peeing on Toad. You laugh so much that you’ll need to rewatch the flash to hear all of the jokes.

There is another message.

>Emmy: check AIM again.

_GreenQuiver7 poked PlaneLover22_

GreenQuiver7: Em! Did you watch Inuyasha last night?

He used Windscar 7 TIMES

PlaneLover22: I don’t have a TV in my room, remember? You know the layout of my house, Ted.

GreenQuiver7: I’m not talking about cable. Why don’t you use Limewire?

PlaneLover22: How many viruses did you get this year?

GreenQuiver7: 18

GreenQuiver7: That’s my older sister’s fault. she downloads all that Korean drama stuff!!!!!!!!!

PlaneLover22: I rest my case.

GreenQuiver7: I’m going to burn you a LOT of discs for your birthday. You won’t be able to turn down Naruto then. gotta go swimming day.

_GreenQuiver7 has logged off_

>Emmy: logoff AIM.

You sign out of the bothersome chat program. 

>Emmy: figure out what you’re going to do.

The existentialist agony hits you again. What ARE you going to do if your existing chat pool is so awful? You could make new friends, but that is somewhat risky. Caution is important at a time like this.

>Emmy: join an Invision Powerboard® message board.

Against better judgment, you have the brilliant idea to join a message board. Message boards are fun places where you can mock each other with a delay in place. If your parents ever ask, simply mention that at least you aren’t using MySpace or un-moderated chatrooms.

>Emmy: remember that assembly dedicated to the horrors of cyber-predators

Earlier in the school year, several of your classmates engaged in lewd and risky behavior on MySpace. Calling themselves the ‘Insert School Name Here’ Whores, they posted pictures of themselves in their uniforms on campus. You were one of the few girls NOT caught-up in that drama, which is part of the reason so many of them hate you. In truth, you’re probably too sheltered to even have such thoughts. You’ve never been photogenic.

>Emmy: look for a subject matter that interests you

Skipping the exposition… again… You now need to choose a forum to plant your flag in. A first message board profile is a major event in a youth’s life. Sadly, it seems that many of your interests either lead to people WAY older than you, 9/11 conspiracies or boring live action crap. What will be your path?

>Emmy: decide to join a video game discussion forum

You need an emphasis, though.

>Emmy: join a Sonic the Hedgehog message board

YOU JOIN THE SONIC STADIUM MESSAGE BOARD! Congratulations! This is a huge accomplishment. You should get started on your profile!

>Emmy: setup your profile.

You notice that most of the openly female members on the site are a lot older than you. For the sake of blending in, you decide to pretend to be a male. It’s easier that way for when you eventually make your OC. You DO have a plan in mind for an original character, right?

>Emmy: make an original character now.

You’re put on the spot to throw out an idea for a totally original character. Everyone has a Sonic recolor, so you need to do something different. Whatever will you do?

>Emmy: commit an intergalactic atrocity

Your actions have triggered events across the galaxy that you can’t begin to imagine. Your character idea is ‘off the hook’ that you spontaneously generated them into a dimension far away. In time you’ll come to interact with them.

>Emmy: get a strike within five minutes of making your account

You report a moderator’s thread by mistake. To be fair, he DID break the rule of ‘no redundant threads’ with a completely useless thread about a new screenshot for Kirby and the Amazing Mirror.

Elsewhere in time and space is the byproduct of your OC along with works from others. Those other creators are blissfully unaware of the pocket reality your efforts created. We look at a crater-laden world that is, by all accounts, dead. We will think of a name for this planet to suit our needs. What is its name?

>enter name.

Ass-tralia

Oh wow, you’re SO FUNNY.

>enter name for real.

Marais-3

You can tell it is a space name because of the random number. We examine planet Marais-3 for signs of life. A scan for digital information reveals the existence of an interactive AI.

>locate the AI.

The AI is in a localized projector located in a camp on the outskirts of what we’ll presume is the destroyed capital city of this planet. Are we in the camp of the destroyers or the remnants of the destroyer?

What is the AI’s name?

>enter name.

Your attempts at fake names fail. Chikai is the AI’s hardcoded name. Her exact origins are even a mystery to those she is in service with. There is significance in her appearance that will be discussed at a future point. For now, we need to advance the story.

>be Chikai.

You can’t yet.

    “Hold on to your tentacles…”

    “It’s Inkopolis News Time!”

    “Before we continue the story, some special news!”

    “I hope it isn’t another sea-zure.”

    “We’re entering uncharted territory.”

    “I guess the time for games is over.”

     “Say, Marie. Do you think anyone will realize that she’s going to include canon from a private RP?”

    “I’m sure the number will barely be higher than active Wii U owners.”

    “Did we get this message from… on high or was she high?”

    “Until next time…”

    “Stay fresh!”