TwiLyghtSansSparkles

Nighthound seems like the headbutting sort. And that is one couple I have no desire to ship.

Wow. That….that sounds like Funtimes….

*evil grin*

It's a shame you can't make "I kissed an Epic" fit the meter of "I Kissed a Girl."

I kissed an Epic. Holy burning Calamity, I kissed an Epic! Nathan wanted to release Funtimes, fall to the ground, and curl into the fetal position while he pondered his life, fate, and whether or not the kiss signaled some kind of impending apocalypse. Wanted to, but didn't. There were two other dangerous Epics, neither of whom wanted to kiss him, and if he wanted to live he had to stay in character. No one had suggested it yet, but the last thing he wanted to do was stay the night at the Sadrys'. Especially if the feral Epic—whose name was apparently Nighthound—would be there too. He envisioned a long, sleepless night in a bed surrounded by zombies with Nighthound clawing at his door and suppressed a shudder. Then he remembered, with a start, the book he'd hidden beneath the blankets in one of the bedrooms. Lightwards might not go through the rooms in search of anything of import he and Funtimes had left behind, but Nathan couldn't take that chance. If Calvin and Hobbes was banned in Newcago, it would be suspicious—if not outright seditious—in Portland. He might be able to pass off his reading it as a quirk—but he might not, and he didn't want to push his luck. "I think we'll head back to our place," he said, smoothing down Doctor Funtimes' hair, searching her eyes for any trace of disagreement. "But if you don't mind, Lightwards, I left my duster at yours." He tossed Lightwards a smile. "We'll just stop by and grab it, and then we'll be out of your hair."

Hmmmm....what would life as a partially burned piece of bread be like, I wonder....

Upvoted just to troll you.

Aw, thanks! I'd post a Fluttershy pic, but I'm using my phone. :/

Just when I think we're scraping the bottom of the shipping barrel, this game has more to give.

Logistics? How about Catering? Although most people might not like having nothing but sausage McMuffins at all hours of the day and night. Except maybe Voidgaze. Hang on a sec.....

A sister. Sparks. Of course he had a sister. Why would one of him be enough? Then again, if he wanted to gloat about having a dinosaur to her, perhaps she would be more enemy than ally to him. Nathan, knowing what was said about enemies' enemies, filed that bit away for later. He let his hand, still clasped in Funtimes,' fall. He released his grip, but she held fast. She smiled up at him, brown eyes shining--and then, before he could explain why or how, she was on tiptoe, her arms around his shoulders, kissing him like she'd never kissed him before. Which was the truth. Still, it was surprising. So Nathan did the only thing a fake Epic could do when being kissed in the middle of a smoldering suburb by a beautiful woman who could turn his clothes to acid: He kissed her back. It was not unpleasant. Terrifying, but not unpleasant. "Isn't he the best?" she gushed, pulling away and leaving a hand to brush against his stubbled cheek. "I think I'll keep him." Nathan laughed at her joke. To anyone else, it would sound like flirting, though there was a warning in it too. He was hers, and if anyone moved against him, they would have her to contend with. The message to Nathan was clear: I'm keeping you. He had no idea why.

"They can't die," Nathan murmured. "They'll just keep going." He had never done what he was about to do. He had never had occasion—or permission—to try it. Let them fight, that was the Newcago way Let them fight until someone wins and someone is dead. But this wasn't Newcago. This was Oregon. Nathan didn't think through his plan. Thinking through it would give Lightwards and the feral Epic time to cause more damage, and give Nathan time to talk himself out of it. Heart racing, he caught Funtimes' eye. "Let's put an end to this." He took her arm, and when he opened his eyes, he stood in the middle of a smoking crater. Right between the two dueling Epics. Calamity, what was I thinking? He forced a chuckle, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Girls, girls, you're both pretty." He heard a weapon charge, a foot scrape across the torn asphalt, and lifted Funtimes' hand. "Don't either of you try anything. You've seen what she can do. And while you—" he nodded to the feral Epic, who had pulled himself away from the detonation site— "might not be wearing anything anymore, she can still do plenty of damage with the ground you're standing on." This isn't going to work, they're going to kill me, I'm going to be a zombie in a minute... "CorpseMaker. Altermind. If those names don't sound familiar, you haven't been paying attention. They both control quite a bit of this fair city, and if you two keep fighting until you finally realize that neither one of you can actually die, they'll move in and do Calamity-knows-what while we're not looking. And I for one don't want to be a sitting duck when I find out what Calamity knows they'll do." Nathan turned in a slow circle, Funtimes' hand still clasped in his. "So what do you say? An alliance would be far more efficient than tearing this street apart until we're victims of an ambush."

Cool. I'll get going on that.

Yeah, it's probably time to call a stalemate, or else they'll be fighting until the cows come home. But how could he go about getting them to stop fighting in a way that actually gets them to—you know—stop? Reasoning probably won't work, and offering them both Pop-Tarts will only be a distraction….would calmly walking out into the carnage and stating that if they keep fighting, there won't be anything left to rule and that there are other competitors for the territory work?

He's a living trollface taking on a guy who can raise the dead and a woman who can turn a tree into a tank. I think we passed the line between "fighting" and "trolling" back on page 8.

"And all they ever found of the puppy of evil was a single fingernail, painted like Santa. Theeeeeee eeennnd." "Worst. Campfire story. EVER."

Unattached, I presume? I would say so.

Back doors opened as the homes' inhabitants poured out and ran, climbing over fences and racing away from the street. Nathan saw a small, blonde-haired girl carried off by her parents, running as fast as their legs could carry them until they were out of sight. Oregonians knew how to handle Epics. Meanwhile, Doctor Funtimes was humming, pulling levers and peering through a scope. Nathan recognized the tune, but couldn't quite place—"Jingle Bells." That was the tune. She was humming a Christmas carol, but when she sang, the lyrics were very different. "I got through checkpoint A…" A dot on the Jeep's radar screen attested to a target acquired. "…but not through checkpoint B…." Metal folded back as a missile the size of a Christmas ornament deployed from the hood of the Jeep. Funtimes rolled down her window and sang at the top of her lungs: "That's when I got shot in the butt by the Funtimes military!" Small though it was, Nathan was certain the missile packed a punch. It flew out, aimed directly for the feral Epic's bare backside. "Oh, jingle bombs, jingle bombs…" "What's it do?" She grinned. "It goes splodey. But only for him." Nathan raised an eyebrow. A heat-seeking missile designed to only damage its intended target. He thought it safe to assume it wouldn't explode upon contact with any other target. "That's….really sophisticated. I don't know how much it'll do, though." She giggled again. "Sing it with me, Alice! Jingle bombs, jingle bombs, sploding all the way…." Alice joined in, singing along in that monotone of hers.

It's the "can no longer deny" part that really jacks the nightmare fuel up to eleven.

Oh, great. So how long until Lightwards starts calling him his "puppy of evil"?

Between his *ahem* remarks and her….um….personality, I wouldn't be surprised if Oregon was completely empty by the time the turf wars began in earnest.

Well, they ​can….right before she dresses them like a clown and prances off to find more light-up socks.

I envisioned it looking like this: Except pink, and covered in gummy bears that may or may not leak acid and/or explode when torn from the vehicle.

Woah. Now that would be fascinating. If Internet Guy had access to the RP's Epics' thoughts before they became Epics, can you imagine what sort of insight that would give him? Even if Thomas Cardinal didn't keep a blog, per se, if Internet Guy could access his online lessons and recite them at will….that's quite the advantage. Psychological, yes, but an advantage all the same.