Wrath of the Dead Presidents

Bashy knew it was hell. He knew it was hell because he was sitting in a hot-tub and being force-fed hot chicken soup every six hours. He knew it was hell because every time someone addressed him, they would call him "Sir Fuzzington" And most of all, Bashy knew he was in hell because there was pop music....twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and motherfucking sixty-five days a year.

It turned out that you couldn't claw your own ears off in a pod. This disappointing him greatly.

He put his head in his hands as "Baby" came on for the third time that hour.

It was a bad day. It was always a bad day, but today was especially shit. He sipped his hot tea with the same distaste one might expect from someone drinking pure acid. "...I thought you'd always be mine..."

Bashy tried to claw his ears off again.

Phoenix wished he could close his eyes. He couldn't, of course, because Maxwell had stapled them open a few years ago. A shame, really, because if he closed his eyes he could put himself elsewhere. He sighed. It wouldn't be hell if he could escape, now would it?

The Gravity Room was rather boring. Nothing to do, only sterile white walls to see. And he couldn't move, thanks to several tons of weight pressing him to the floor. Occasionally to the wall, or ceiling, depending on whether or not he seemed to be getting comfortable. The worst part was when the room shut off for just a moment, and the pressure was gone and he could breathe easily and then WHOOMP.

Speaking of which, the room did seem to be lightening up.

Odd. Phoenix thought, and he would have furrowed his brow if not for the staples. It's never gradual.

"Baaaaaaaaaby..." Bashy's eyes widened as the lights flickered and music, the non-stop horrifying music finally, for the first time in fucking forever slowly but surely ground to a halt. The boiling hot bubles in the hot tub started to become fewer and farther between. Bashy blinked. There was a click as his full body restraints clicked off.

"We are sorry for this lapse in service, we are having technical difficulties currently." A cool female voice said over the speakers, obviously pre-recorded. "Please remain stationary until we can restore our power supplies, and we can begin your eternal torment again. Thank you for choosing-" There was an an alarming static noise "-Maxwell! -atan services."

Bashy stood up, almost unable to believe it. What....what was going on... He stepped out of the hot-tub, his fur steaming mightily as it contacted relatively normal heat levels for the first time in a very long time. He looked around sure he was going to be snatched back any second. He would have thought he was dreaming if he had been able to sleep....ever...

He crept closer to the door, and suddenly felt his hands pressing on a door much closer to him. With a sound like steam escaping a vent, he pushed open the door of his pod. The air conditioning was absolutely, to murder a phrase, heavenly. He let out a little whoop, and, without thinking about it, caused frost to spread across the floor around him. He had tried to do that about a million times before, but now, finally, he had done it.

He was starting to get that feeling of power back. He started, realizing that he wasn't wearing his mask, and, panicking for a second, turned back to his pod. It was hanging there, safe and sound. He strapped it on, breathing a sigh of relief, which came out slightly distorted by the filter. He lowered the temperature in his mask and clothes to a level that would have killed just about anything else dead, and had to resist the urge to just lie down on the floor and take a nap.

There didn't seem to be the weight of a small planet on his chest anymore, so Phoenix assumed he could stand up now if he wanted to. And he did want to. Very badly. A per-recorded message told him that there were problems with his eternal torture and thanked him for choosing Maxwell-atan services. There was no door in sight, but that had never stopped him before.

[real quick success roll for the sake of figuring out whether or not he can imagine himself a decent door after not using his abilities all this time aaaaannnnnddddd.......ok he's a bit rusty.]

He smiled to himself as a simple wooden door materialized in the wall before him. It was nice to know he hadn't lost his touch. Hell, it wasn't even a locked do-

whoomp.

Lying face down on the floor, having just stepped out of a door in the ceiling, Phoenix decided against moving and let the shame sink in.

Bashy blinked a couple times, looking up at the ceiling, and back down at the floor, where a crumpled heap of person was lying.

"Dude....did you just...face-plant from a....ceiling.....door..." The farther into the sentence he got the less sense everything, as a whole, made to Bashy. "You OK...uh...ceiling....dude?"

Bashy checked his air for what he assumed had to be a massive dose of drugs. He didn't find any. He nudged the fallen person with his foot, the frosty drops on his shoe crackling.

I know this is hell, He thought, but shit is getting unreasonable up in this bitch.

-----------------

Down a number of twisting hallways, through a series of devious traps, and behind one garishly red white and blue door, the sound of screeching metal ripped apart the relative quiet.

"YES!" a jubilant, and slightly deranged voice said. "YEEEES!" They rise, and soon, hell shall know......DEMOCRACY!"

Phoenix could hear someone talking to him, but he wasn't inclined to move or respond. Until there was an ice cold boot poking his side, then he was more than willing to respond. He flicked his wrist towards the direction of the voice. The floor shimmered and rippled in a few spots and six knives shot up from the floor.

[roll 90, -20 because he's face down on a floor like a fucking idiot]

There wasn't much force behind it. It wasn't meant to wound and it didn't. The knives bounced pitifully off of the being's helmet and clattered to floor beside him. One of them landed point-down in the back of Phoenix's hand, earning a gargled "hynng" from the man.

What do you want? I'm letting the shame sink in. It's a delicate process.

Bashy let out a string of curses as knives seemed to appear out of fucking nowhere. He flailed a little before flailing more violently when there was suddenly a voice in his head. "Oh fuck no, nah, not doing this shit. Y'all motherfuckers can fuck right off with this hearing voices shit. Nah. Fuck that with mount Everest."

Bashy was backing off, razor sharp icicles forming around his knuckles.

"You can make me drink tea, you can put me in a hot tub, hell, you can even make me listen to Nsync, but you do not fucking make me crazy."

Phoenix rolled over onto his back and stared up at him with a bored sort of look on his face. He was done self-loathing for the moment. The shame had sunk in enough by now.

You're not crazy - well, not for the reasons you're claiming anyway. I'm speaking with you telepathically. I don't have a tongue anymore.

For a brief moment, he considered pulling the bandana off of his face and showing him. He tried to close his eyes (it was so much easier to think that way) and remembered that he still had staples holding his eyes open. He eyed the icicles forming around the man's hands and cocked his head to the side.

You can make things cold? Can you numb my face for a minute? These staples aren't the best thing in the world. I'm Phoenix, by the way. You are?

More as a reflex than to fill the request, Bashy blasted the man's head with a whorl of freezing air and moisture. Stapled open eyes, telepathy or no, was like, number seven on the top 10 things that were utter bullshit likely to happen to someone in the first five minutes of a horror movie.

It took Bashy a moment to realize that the person on the floor was not actually coming at him with a cleaver, and consider that he may have just frozen someone's face for no reason. Honestly, he wasn't all that bothered, there were perks to being an elemental, even if you were cast down. He scratched at his fuzzy ear under his hood self-consciously.

Thank you. Thank you so much for that. That's exactly what I needed. What a pal.

Phoenix seriously debated letting the ice that was gradually causing permanent damage to his face stay there. He decided instead to call one of the fallen knives to him and began picking delicately at the glacial mask.

[let's see if you get to not stab your face you fucking moron: Rolls a 91]

The ice fell away with relatively ease and, with a bit of angry grunting, Phoenix managed to pry to staples free as well. The little tears and rips left in his eyelids and eyebrows sealed up almost immediately. Brushing bits of ice from his shirt and mask, Phoenix sprung to his feet, hovering just a few inches off of the ground. The six knives were circling his ankles protectively.

You still didn't tell me your name.

"Uh...Bashy." He said, feeling a bit awkward as he let the icicles turn back into vapor. He looked over at the now somewhat less disturbing individual, and looked around sheepishly.

"Sorry about your uh...face." It occurred to Bashy that that might be accidentally considered an insult. Oh well, bit late now.

"Uh, did your little room thing open up too? Actually, scratch that, why did you come out of the ceiling?" He was slowly acclimating to the mildly disturbing 'voice in his head' thing.

My face has been through worse.

Phoenix shrugged and glanced up at the ceiling. The door was still open and he felt the need to reach up and close it. The knives circled a bit faster and he rose a few more inches so that he could reach it comfortably.

I came out of the ceiling because I'm a bit rusty. I would have preferred to open the door normally but we can't always get what we want in Hell, now can we?

He came down slowly so that he was closer to Bashy's level.

What about you? Why didn't you come out of the ceiling?

Phoenix realized that the smirk accompanying the comment wasn't visible to Bashy and it probably made him look dumb.

"Because....uh, apart from that-" Bashy looked pointedly at the door in the ceiling "- I don't see any doors in the fucking ceiling. Also, I'm not fond of doing face-plants." He said, smirking.

"Anyway, if you-" Before he could finish his sentence, the wall a few feet down the hall exploded inwards with a sound like wrenching metal. "What the..." His sentiment died in his throat as a sharp drum beat rippled from the hole in the wall. Flute sounds followed it.

Bashy blinked, blinked again, and looked over at phoenix, dearly hoping that he had some explanation for this. It was at that moment that three life-sized wind-up toy soldiers marched smartly through the hole. They were solidly built, seemingly from metal, and the rifles that were propped against their shoulders looked exceedingly real. Behind them, something that looked horrifically like a toy soldier with it's head replaced by a bass drum, and with pipes protruding from it's chest, piping the flute sound climbed through also.

"...What even...the fuck..."

No, that was-

Phoenix didn't get the chance to finish the thought. He spun around to face the sound and stared wide-eyed at the toy soldiers pouring through the wall. Though if they were toys then they were toys for a warlord. Backing up slowly, his fingers twitched with the anticipation of having to launch knives into their faces. He shot a nervous glance at Bashy, who seemed just as confused and displeased with the situation as he was.

How fast can you run?

Bashy glanced over at Phoenix. "Man...I don't even know what's-" He ducked and let out a string of rather impressive profanity as a musket ball suddenly blasted over his head, making an improbably large dent in the ceiling. "Shit, they have range on us..." Bashy was weighing his options. Running might just net him a musket-ball to the head, but staying here was also an incredibly shitty idea.

"OK man, I'm gonna do something." he said, steeling himself. "I hope these motherfuckers don't run on antifreeze..."

With that, he slammed his fist into the wall, and...

(82, works for me.)

The frost spread faster than the toy soldiers could turn their heads, and, as it reached them, it suddenly blasted outwards in spikes of ice, forming a sharp wall between Bashy, Phoenix, and the band of soldiers.

"All-right... I hope you have a plan here, cause to be honest with you, I haven't got the faintest clue what's up with this shit."

Not bad...As for a plan, that depends: Do you want to run away or slaughter them all?

Phoenix made the executive decision to stay and fight as the ice began to crack. They could run, but there wouldn't be much use in dodging musketballs constantly. They'd keep chasing them regardless. He pondered for a moment before lowering himself to the ground, the knives laying out in front of him like a tiny wall of death.

[6 - Hell yeah motherfucker]

The last six knives of his set materialized above the first row. He formed them roughly into a cone formation and they began to spin, gaining speed rapidly.

Ok here's the plan: The first one to break through that wall, I'll shred. Make another wall as fast as you can after the first one gets through and we'll repeat it. They'll be easier to pick off alone than as a group.

Bashy nodded grimly. "All-right man, I'll keep setting them up, you keep knocking em' down."

In truth, Bashy wasn't sure what he could pull off this soon after being overheated. Still, there was no way he was letting an opportunity to look this bad-ass go un-used.

(76, Wall-make!)

Bashy stomped down, sending a wave of frost flowing across the floor, just as the first soldier crashed through the wall. The soldier leaped forwards with a somewhat unnerving agility, as the crystal wall of ice closed back up behind him.

As he focused on building the wall strong, Bashy called back to phoenix. "Any time now man!"

[62...Well, that could have been better.]

Phoenix nodded curtly and sent the spiral of knives forward towards the soldier's chest. The knives bore into the soldiers chest about an inch deep and stopped. Phoenix cursed. He had misjudged just how tough the metal was. The soldier was loading another shot and thin cracks were appearing in the ice wall again.

Okay, new plan, new plan. I don't know what it is, but new plan.

Maybe he could...Phoenix released the knives from his possession, effectively confusing them into believing the soldier was trying to wield them. They began to vibrate violently and glow red as if they were heating up.

Bashy glanced at Phoenix. "Not helping!" He pointed out.

With a grunt of effort, he drove both hands downwards, and a thick layer of ice rippled across the already thick barrier.

Bashy was breathing hard. "OK man, I need you to deal with this dude, and quick..."

The soldier turned jerkily towards Phoenix, pointing the rifle at him, even as the knives began to melt a hole in his chest. He didn't really seem to notice, but as the metal got red hot and started to open up, an odd apparatus was visible inside.

It seemed to be some sort of chime, and it was keeping time with the beating of the drum soldier behind the ice. Time to think about it was short however, as the soldier pulled the trigger.

(23V23 Close to disaster!)

The musket ball was ever so slightly off target (Likely due to the burning hole in him.) And was shifted just enough to avoid hitting phoenix between his eyebrows, instead grazing the edge of his hairline, pulling out a few hairs as it passed frighteningly close to his cranium.

Phoenix let out a loud garbled screech of shock as the he barely managed to duck out of the way. This was exactly why he didn't try to speak without a tongue. Every noise he made sounded monstrous.

[A critical failure so bad that it literally became a -4, but thank god for a saving roll that makes it slightly less humiliating]

In the process of ducking, Phoenix lost his balance and hit the floor, rolling into a crouch a few feet away. He cursed loudly in his head. As if it weren't bad enough that he almost got shot.

Bashy has to try very hard not to face-palm, as it would likely freeze his lenses. "For fucks sake..." he muttered.

The rifle was pointed at him. "Ah shit..." He had to make a choice, he hoped it was the right one. He pulled his hands from the floor, dived forwards and...

(94, it is time...)

Slammed his fist into the side of the toy-soldier's head hard enough to make a clang, before the follow-through smashed the unfortunate military man into the wall, hard enough to disconnect his right arm. Bashy stood over him, looking down. "Chill." He said, and then, he stomped down on the soldier's head, which erupted in a spray of broken ice. "Good, now we can-"

The ice wall shattered. "-Ah fuck..."

Phoenix glared at Bashy as if to say "Not a single fucking word" and then flinched as he dove forward, crushing the soldier's head with an impressive amount of force. The wall shattered in a spray of ice and there was suddenly very little between Bashy and a wall of giant, homicidal toys.

Back up!

[100 - This is me making up for that last screw up.]

He curled his fingers up like claws and the blades flickered out of existence for a few seconds before launching up under the feet of the two closest soldiers. They burrowed into their metal bodies a bit deeper than the last one, and it was enough to slow them down considerably.

[24 damage to each soldier]

Okay now haul ass over here and let's fucking go!

Bashy didn't need to be told twice. He wheeled around, sprinting back up the hall towards phoenix.

Oddly, the soldiers were not pursuing them, rather, the drumming was becoming more intense. As it reached a crescendo, the soldier's wounds began to close up, and a fresh coat of paint seemed to be applied by invisible hands. The flute piped up, and the soldiers aimed down the hall. This time, Bashy was ready.

A snowball appeared in his hand. "Catch." He growled, and threw it up the hall. As it traveled it seemed to gain momentum, and volume, and spikes! By the time it reached the soldiers, it was nearly two feet wide, and...

(87-5=82 Hit.)

It crashed into the soldier on the right, smashing through his chest cavity like a battering ram. The unfortunate part, he was still standing, albeit, barely.

(49 damage, are you fucking with me   )

Phoenix was both impressed and severely annoyed by the soldier's durability. A knife materialized in his hand and he skidded to a halt, turning around long enough to cock his arm back and throw the knife like a skipping stone towards the wobbling soldier.

[51. Well....it hit.]

The knife tore into the soldier, narrowly avoiding simply sailing through the gaping hole. The soldier fell to the floor with an unpleasant clattering noise and Phoenix nodded in satisfaction.

They have guns, we're not going to be able to run from them effectively. Go for the guy with the drum, it looks like he's healing them.

"Roger" Bashy said, crouching down. "Time to shatter a motherfucker." Then, he shot forwards like an arrow, powerful-looking gauntlets of ice forming around his hands. as he drew level with the soldier in front of the drummer, it raised its rifle at him, but, with a grin that was hidden by his mask, Bashy...

(Total 95, hell yeah)

...slid between the soldier's legs, a sudden coating of ice on the floor allowing him to catapult himself at the drumming soldier, who started backing up just a bit too late. Bashy raised a fist...

(67, well, it does hit. Also, halving coldness.)

"Lights out motherfucker."

The fist connected with a sickening crunch, followed by an uppercut, which tossed the drummer up into the air with a sound like a burst tire. Bashy took a deep breath, watching as the soldier fell, crystallizing as he fell, that is, until Bashy made impact one more time, and there were shards of super-cooled metal lying all around.

"Hell ye-" The remaining soldier spun around, smacking the pommel of the rifle into Bashy's midriff, kncking the wind out of him.

(3 damage)