Awesomesquad! Assemble! 6!

Holy crap this is long. Sorry about that, but you know- dick jokes.

In the sake of time I’ll just give everyone who hasn’t read an Awesomesquad! Assemble post before this one some background info:

I made a crime fighting team called Awesomesquad! We’re badass. I found most of the members from either the Internet or T.V.

I am the leader I usually wear a white cloak that for some reason can hold my pole arm, which I call my Justice Stick.

My second in command is my good friend Jibbles aka the Knifemaster

Damien Walters is our parkour and hand to hand combat trainer

Everett Bradford is our weapons tech

Criss Angel is our token wizard

Mr. Expendable is a friend of mine who we’ve given the ability to regenerate lost tissue. This means that he is largely our guinea pig for experiments

Steve is an Asian guy who is our stealth and covert ops expert

Jessie James (From Monster Garage) is our driver and the builder of the Awesomeplane!, our main form of transportation

Danica Mckellar (aka Winnie from The Wonder Years) is a mathematician who uses math to figure everything out

I’ve got some serious quadratic expansion going on in my pants right now.

Phlegm is our team psychiatrist. She is also The Knifemaster’s brother

GMZ is our hacker

Derren Brown is our mentalist who mainly interrogates our suspects.

That’s all the important information. Enjoy this batch of crazy:

*****
“Fuck. Call Jibbles!” I screamed into my phone.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean by, ‘Fuck call Jibbles'” Siri replied.
“Don’t fuck around, Siri, this is important.”
She didn’t answer.
“You’re a cunt, Siri.”
“Was it something I said?” she then asked.
I rolled my eyes and searched for Jibbles’ number the old fashioned way. Ugh, what a hassle. After a few tedious minutes of searching through my contacts, I had found and called Jibbles.
“Knifemaster!,” I exclaimed before he has a chance to finish saying hello, ” You need to assemble The Awesomesquad!. It’s important.
“Sure thing, Minigan, when do you want us to meet?”
“FUCKING NOW!!!”
“But Minigan,” Jibbles said in an uncharacteristically whiny manner, “you always give us some kind of advanced warning, and I really have a lot of studying to do for my finals.”
“You can study when you’re dead,” I retorted, “Right now, there’s evil to fight.”
“You know that that makes no sense, right?” he pointed out to me.
Even though he was probably right, there was no time to argue. “Just assemble the team.”
I heard a sigh come from the other end of the line, which I took as him seceding to my request, so I hung up.
After a few quiet seconds, a distant voice called out from somewhere outside my window,” Awesomesquad Assemble!”
“Man, Jibbles is getting good at that,” I said to myself, “It echoed and everything.”
My trip to my entrance, as well as my passage into the Awesomebase! was uneventful, and once inside I found Jibbles and Everett hanging out in the dining lounge.
“Quick!” I shout as I walked into the lounge, making them both jump out of their seats, “We need to think of a way to destroy a corpse but leave a living body unharmed.”

“What?!” they both cried in unison.
“A weapon.” I stated, ” We need some kind of weapon that will destroy a corpse, but leave a living body unharmed.”
“Why?” Jibbles asked.
“Because we need it to fight zombies, but still protect civilians.” I answer.
“What?!” they both cry in unison once again.
“JUST BUILD SOMETHING THAT DOES WHAT I’M ASKING FOR!!!”
Everett, looking confused by my demand, even though I made it pretty damn clear, said, “Minigan, you’re not making any sense. A corpse and a living body are made of the exact same things. You can’t build something that will destroy one and not the other.”
“Well, we need to figure out a way soon, because we’re going to fight zombies today.”
“What?!” They cried in unison for a third time, which I think means I win a free Coke or something.
“That’s right,” I said, “Now we really need to figure out what kind of weapon will kill a zombie and not a living person, and Everett needs to build it.
There was no use arguing with me, and they knew it, so we sat down at a table and began to brainstorm.
After several minutes of failed weapon concepts like, “Brain cannon” and “beheading bus,” Jibbles got up and began to rummage through the cabinets.
“What are you doing, Knifemaster?” I ask.
“Look,” he replied in a flat tone, “You called me here so suddenly that I didn’t have time to eat.” He then added after opening the refrigerator and finding only half empty condiment bottles and a really old sandwich, “Minigan, isn’t it your job as team leader to supply us with food? How about instead of fighting zombies, we fight off starvation with a trip to the grocery store?”
“Hey,” I snapped, “I go to the store regularly, you bastards just eat everything to fast. It’s not my fault we have a budget. Our Mystery Benefactor tells me how much I can spend on food.”
Without looking up from out list of awful weapon ideas, Everett mentioned how he saw some beef jerky in the cabinet above the stove. Sure enough, there was a plastic bag of homemade beef jerky. Satisfied with the choice of food, Jibbles sat back down and helped us brainstorm some more. After another ten minutes of deliberating, the best idea we had was what we called, “The Zombie Grinder.” Basically, it was a giant pyramid of steps that led up to a pit with some sort of meat griding device. A fresh human brain would be suspended over the opening, just out of reach for the zombies. The idea is that they would climb the pyramid and fall into the grinder when they try to reach for the brain. We all loved the idea, but I had some issues with how to transport the giant murder pyramid, and how to dispose of the remains. Everett assured me that he could work those out as he builds it.
“OK,” I seceded, “I like that one. But I still think we need something that you aim at a zombie. The grinder is only a trap.”
Jibbles and Everett groaned.
“This is important, you bastards!” I screamed, “We need to prepare for a zombie attack!”
Jibbles grumbled and then bit into a piece of beef jerky. After a second of chewing, he looked down at the food in his hand and then at us and cried, “Watteff wuh dehidrat vem?”
Everett and I just stared at him. Jibbles swallowed and repeated, “What if we dehydrate them? You know, with something that heats up and dries the air around them. If that doesn’t turn them into dust, then that might just kill the virus that turned them into zombies. They’d still be dead, just not eating other people.”
“Knifemaster,” I replied, “That is… not a bad idea, actually.”
“I disagree,” said Everett, the difficult bastard, “We don’t know why these theoretical people are turning into zombies, so drying them won’t be doing us any favors that way. Plus, dehydrating zombies will only turn them into mummies. So we’d still have an undead problem.”
Jibbles answered, “But that’s the thing, they will be like mummies, which means they will be totally stiff.” “Have you ever seen a mummy?” he continued, “Those things are so dehydrated that their limbs snap off when you try to move one. Now try to see an army of them walking at you. With their first step will break off their toes.”
“Fine,” Everett said impatiently, “I’ll build that too. But it won’t look pretty, not with the amount of time you’ve given me.”
“That’s fine, just have the thing built by later this afternoon.” I replied, ignoring his impatient tone, “Also, test it out on one of our test cadavers and Mr. Expendable and see how he fares against it.”
“Fares against what?” Mr. Expendable asked as he walked into the room. He was wearing a worn out t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms, which is even more disheveled than his normal appearance. “I just woke up,” he claimed when he noticed us taking in his attire. With an exasperated voice, he then asked, “What do I need to test this time?”
“A dehydrating ray,” Everett answered, “C’mon, let’s get this over with.”
Over the next few hours, the other members started to trickle in: first was Phlegm, then Damien Walters followed by Criss Angel. Danica McKellar and Jessie James showed up together, followed by the rest (GMZ, Derren Brown, That Asian guy who I call Steve). Some sat down in one of the couches that surrounded the table that Jibbles and I were sitting at, while a few others looked through the cabinets for any scrap of food.
“Oy, Minigan, where’s all the food?” Damien asked in what I always assume is a Cockney accent, because- you know- British.
“That’s not important right now,” I answered. “Right now, I need all of you to listen to me. We have an emergency on our hands.”
Jibbles snorted, so I slapped him and then glared at everyone who was standing up, warning them that they might be next. They understood me, and took their seat around the table.
“As I was saying, we have a serious threat on our hands. Has anyone been watching the news lately?” Confused looks passed from one member of my team to the other. “CANNIBALISM!” I shouted impatiently, “LOTS AND LOTS OF CANNIBALISM!!! And that’s not the worst of it. There are rumors of zombies in Miami, Florida.”
The group must have misunderstood me because every single one of them groaned. Phlegm asked, “Minigan, this isn’t about that man who ate a homeless man’s face is it?”
“Yes, this is exactly what this is about!” I snapped.
“C’mon, man. Haven’t you heard that that guy was high on bath salts or something?” Jibbles chimed in.
“Yes, I know that! I don’t mean that he’s the reason there’s a zombie apocalypse going in southern Florida, I mean that story is what made me discover the truth!” Everyone looked confused. Good. That means they’ll listen. “Criss, put the holographic map of Miami up.”
“What?” he replied.
“The holographic map of Miami. Make it appear.” I repeated through my clenched teeth. I was not getting any respect today, and I would be damned if I would let this fucking magician lie to me about what he can or cannot do.”
“Why do you guys think I can just make anything appear? I’m an Illusionist, not a wizard,” he claimed, rather foolishly, to be honest, because I know pretty goddamn well that he can just make anything appear. Grumbling to myself about how much of an idiot Criss is, I leaned over the table, grabbed his right hand and balled it into a fist. I then set his elbow on the table so that his forearm was standing straight up. I instructed him to open his hand, and when he did, a giant, three dimensional, greenish grey map of Miami sprang into existence and began to rotate slowly. “What the fuck?” Criss exclaimed.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I pointed to a spot on the map and said, “This is where the homeless man was attacked.” A red dot formed on the spot that I touched. “And these,” I touched the holographic map several more times, revealing several more red dots, “are sightings of shambling, almost dead looking people. As you can tell, these dots form a perimeter of several blocks. I believe that these sightings are actually of zombies.”
“Minigan,” Danica asked as sweetly as she could, “Do you know how retarded this sounds to all of us? Zombies are a fictional creature. They will never exist.”
I stood up and shouted, “Really, zombies are a retarded concept? Sure, Pauly D can shoot lasers out of his mouth, Lady Gaga can actually be an alien, we can get into regular fights with Donald Trump’s hairpiece, and Kim Kardashian can have an evil twin that is trying to take over the world with her hypnotic ass, but as soon as I mention zombies, you all jump on the bullshit wagon. Fuck, Criss is projecting a 3D model of fucking Miami In front of all of you right now, but zombies are too damn unrealistic for you cynical bastards.”
A look of shame passed around the group, and for a few minutes, everyone was quiet. The silence was only broken when Mr. Expendable, looking so wrinkly and grey that it looked like he had aged 80 years, stumbled in. As he moved, his dry skin rubbed against itself and sounded like two sheets of sand paper being rubbed together. Several members of the group, including myself, groaned in disgust. Mr. Expendable ignored our groans, and instead stuck his head under the sink faucet and turned it on. As he drank the water, his skin returned to its normal shade and texture.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Criss asked, which was followed by murmurs from the rest of us, who were wondering the same thing.
“He was being a little bitch,” Everett answered as he walked through the door, wiping oil off of his hands with a dirty cloth. Once he sat down, he continued, “Mr. Expendable here lost his shit and we needed to stop. He started yelling all of our secrets out like he was being tortured.”
“That was torture!” Mr. Expendable said with an unusually raspy voice, even after just drinking what must’ve been a half gallon of water, “You chained me to the wall!”
“You kept jumping out of the way! What was I supposed to do? I needed to test the dehydration ray!”
“Dehydration ray?” Damien asked, “What in the bloody hell is a dehydration ray?”
In order to watch what could possibly become a very entertaining confrontation between a man who can regenerate lost tissue and a man with flame throwers attached to his arms, I quickly explained to the group how I asked for a weapon that would only harm zombies and not living humans.
Still glaring at Mr. Expendable, Everett shouted, “But thanks to this whiny little bitch, living people will also be harmed if they are in the path of the ray.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you that they won’t!” Mr. Expendable shouted back, his voice back to normal, “All I wanted to do get out of the way. People who get hit by the beam will feel the same way. And unlike me, they won’t be chained up and be able to move out of the way.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Damn sure,” he answered.
“Good!” I exclaimed, “That means we can leave a soon as Jessie gets the Awesomeplane! ready.” I nodded to Jessie that he could start now. “Everett,” I continued, “Go with him and get the zombie grinder into the Awesomeplane!.” Once Everett left with Jessie, I addressed the rest of the group, “OK folks, We’ll be leaving as soon as they get the Awesomeplane! ready. Until then, we need to assign tasks for this mission. Team Pugnastics, instead of our normal massive array of weapons, our Benefactor bought each of us a Zombie Apocalypse Survival Kit, and I took the liberty of making a vest for the knives. Also, Phlegm, do to your bizarre and sudden blood lust, you’ll be joining Team Pugnastics on this one. Jibbles, you cannot bring your chainsaw whips with you, what with the splattering of zombie juices and all, and no one needs a flame thrower. That will only make the zombies more dangerous. We can only use blades, guns, and clubs. We will also all be wearing our riot gear, as that will protect us the most against zombie bites.” “Team Prevention,” I announced, turning to Danica, Derren, and GMZ, “You’re job will be to monitor the streets of Miami for anything similar to eyewitness accounts. GMZ, it shouldn’t be difficult for you to hack into Miami’s street and security cameras, so that will be that will be how you monitor the streets. Once any of you see some a crowd of slow, shambling people, let us know, and we’ll take those fuckers out. Does anybody have any questions?”
Everyone raised their hand. I sighed; they weren’t going to fucking let this go until they actually saw some zombies.
“Does anybody have any questions about the details of this mission, not if I am in my right state of mind or if I’m on any drugs?”
Every single one of their bastard hands went down. However, instead of chastising them more, I decided to save all of our time and dismiss everyone. Team Prevention walked their path to The Eye, which is our code name for the surveillance room (Yes that is a V for Vendetta reference), while Phlegm, myself and the rest of team Pugnastics made our way down to the armory. I got Phlegm her riot gear and her Zombie Apocalypse Survival Kit and then went to check on the Awesomeplane!. In the hangar, Everett and Jessie were pushing the individual pieces of the Zombie Grinder into the Awesomeplane! while our teammates watched.
“Hey,” I shouted to the rest of the team, “Don’t just stand there, help them load it. The faster the grinder is on the plane, the sooner we can leave and get back here. Isn’t that what you lazy shit heads want?”
And with that, the rest of my team started to hurry the fuck up. Back in the armory, I loaded up my weapons onto my riot vest, put in my earpiece that had a direct link to Team Prevention, and grabbed my wrist mounted GPS, my Justice Stick, and my riot helmet. I opted to not wear my white cloak, since zombies have a tendency to grab onto anything they can (They’re just like fucking children) and they are not intimidated by theatrics (Just like… I don’t know, jaded children?), and instead went for my tight fitting riot/ war uniform.
Once everyone and Awesomeplane! were ready, we all took out normal seats and prepared for take off. Right as the underground runway lit up and the engines rocketed the vehicle foreward, The Knifemaster said putting a pair of sunglasses on, “We’re headed to Miami to fight some zombies…”
“Don’t say it.” I begged.
“… I guess that means we’re going to be the Brains of their existence. YEEEEAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

How about, “We’re going to knock ’em dead… Again!!!”

“Knifemaster,” I warned, “If you make any of those jokes for the duration of this trip, I will throw you out of this plane.”
There several nods and grumbles of agreement, some of them even coming from his sister. The Knifemaster looked disappointed, but kept his lousy CSI: Miami puns to himself.
Within no time we had reached the end of the tunnel, and the earth spat us out into the clear afternoon sky. Once he had set us on the right course, Jessie turned to all of us and asked if he could play his Miami mix CD. We all agreed, figuring that it would mostly be rap or Latin American music, but once the CD was in the player, the speakers emitted a high pitched wailing sound which had guttural sounding grunts layered on top. 500,000 hours later, we landed in an empty parking lot in Miami. Everyone except for Jessie clawed their way out of the plane, and as far away as their weakened legs could carry them. Many of us threw up.
“Jessie, you horrible bastard,” I shouted in between gasps for air, “Why would you make us listen to a whale being raped for a trip to Miami?”
“That wasn’t a whale getting raped,” he stated with a confused look on his face, “That was Will Smith’s song, ‘Miami.’”
The rest of gasped in unison. “That’s even worse that listening to a whale getting raped!” I shouted, “At least the whale doing the raping is getting some pleasure out of the experience.”
“Listen the fuck up, you bloody Yankee wanker,” Damien said to Jessie through clenched teeth, “If you ever try to play that song again, I will spit right into your bloody mouth. Got that, chum?”
The rest of the group shouted in agreement with Damien, each of us with a look of contempt for Jessie etched onto our faces. He threw his hands up defensively and said, “Fine! I won’t play that song again. Sorry. I thought I’d try to contribute to the music list.”
I growled at him, and then turned away, pressing a button on my ear piece. “Danica, do you copy?”
“I can hear you loud and clear, Minigan,” she answered back, “Things have been quiet in the area you pointed out so far, but we’ll keep looking and update you as soon as we see something.”
“OK, good. Team Pugnastics and I will scout the area, and interview the locals to see if they’ve seen anything unusual. Over and out.” I clicked the button again, ending the connection.
I looked out from the parking lot, getting the first good bearings of our location since we arrived. The town smelled exactly as you would expect it to smell: overpriced cologne, beans and rice, and urine. The sun must have some kind of blood vendetta against the people of Miami, because it seemed as though all it did was spit out a peculiarly viscious amount of Hell fire at this town. Through the waving , almost hypnotic, undulating waves of heat rising from the asphalt, I noticed something odd. There was no one but us around.
I touched my earpiece again, and asked, “Danica, do you see anyone in our vicinity?”
She replied back with a, “No. And not for a two block radius. No one is even driving on the expressway behind you.”
I turned around, and sure enough, the towering expressway stood silently behind us. I turned to the group and said, “Be on high alert, everybody. Something weird is going on.” “in what direction was the most recent sighting,” I asked into my earpiece, “That is probably the best place to start.”
She agreed, and then gave me directions to the location of the last sighting, about three blocks to the south. I directed my team to follow me to the location, and had Steve, Jessie, and Everett set up The Zombie Grinder. I chose not to ask where Everett got the fresh brain from. Leaving Steve, Everett and Jessie to their task, Damien, Phlegm, Criss, Mr. Expendable, The Knifemaster, and myself made our way to the location. We got there to once again find the place deserted, and no trace of any human (living or undead) around. I could tell that this was pretty much what everyone expected, so I continued to repeat the phrase, “It’s quiet- too quiet.” Usually in the movies, a monster would pop out of some unseen corner, but nothing happened whenever I said it. What a jip. Anyway, once we collected all the information that seemed relevant to our mission, Danica directed us to the next sighting.
This went on for several hours, each with the same result. I could tell that my team was getting irrated with me, what with their constant glares, and occasional, “There better be some fucking zombies, Minigan.”
“There will be,” I snapped back. Then under my breath I continue, “There’s got to be.”
After another hour of this, we had gotten about three quarters of the way through the listed sightings. My team was even more irritated at this point; even The Knifemaster was threatening to go back to the Awesomeplane!. The particular location we were at had a several restaurants around, so I suggested that we take a hour break to get food and relax. This seemed to quell their rage towards me, and also gave me some time to look at my GPS. Holy shit. I traced our routes by connecting the dots of sightings and realized that we had walked a good 10 miles in the few short hours we had been in Miami. Despite the distance we walked, we were only five miles away from the Awesomeplane!. The path we took spiraled inward from the latest sighting. That means that the sightings were spiraling outward. And worse still, since we didn’t see a living person in all that time, it means that a section of Miami with a five mile radius, a section of Miami that we’re in the buttfucking middle of, is completely devoid of human life.
I Tapped the button on my earpiece and said, ” Team Prevention, do you copy?”
Nothing.
“I repeat, Team Prevention, do you copy?”
Silence on their end.
“Shit. Fuckity, Fuckity, shit, shit, fuck.” I muttered to my self. Tapping the earpiece once again, I said, “Jessie, do you copy?”
Nothing. Triple fucks.
I looked to the members of my team. They had gathered around an obviously (and for me, unsurprisingly) closed deli, knocking and scratching at the glass doors.
I ran over to them, an said, “I know I promised an hour break, but we are in the middle of a serious situation right now. I cannot get ahold of either Team Prevention nor Everett and Jessie. We need to get back to the Awesomeplane! now. I promise I’ll make it up to everyone when we get back to the base.”
“No.” The Knifemaster replied definitively, “We’re hungry now. I’m sure you’re just overreacting again, Minigan. Everything’s fine.”
“Everything isn’t fine!” I shouted, “I think we’ve been lured into a trap. We need to get the fuck out of here!”
“Oh, come the fuck on!” The Knifemaster cried, now turning to face me, his wall of a body leaning over me, “You’re just saying that because there wasn’t any zombies! This is just you trying to save face in front of us. Let it go, Minigan. You were wrong.”
“Fine. I was wrong about the zombies,” I admit, even though I’m still pretty sure I wasn’t, ” But I know I’m right about this. I can feel it. We need to get out of here.”
“I’m sorry Minigan, but you’ve lost a lot of influence over us the past few hours. You claimed there were zombies, but we haven’t seen any, and now you’re claiming that it’s a trap because you cannot contact the rest of the team? I’m not buying it.”
“We haven’t seen any zombies because we haven’t seen a single bloody person in this city so far,” Damien yelled to everyone else’s surprise, “And check your damned mobiles. I for one don’t have any service, which is odd since we’re in the middle of a blasted city. Minigan’s right. We need to get out of here now.”
“Why the fuck are you siding with Minigan on this one of all times, Damien?” The Knifemaster asked, rightly so too, since Damien has a notorious habit of disagreeing with me.
“Yes I am,” Damien snapped back, ” Because I’m the only one besides Minigan who’s been paying any bloody attention to our surroundings. Seriously, your damn culture is destroying all of your attention spans! So, are you guys coming or do we have to drag you back?”
The Knifemaster was fuming. His lips were so pursed that they barely moved when he said, “Not until we get some food.”
“Fucking fine already!” I screamed. I pushed through them and shattered the window with a swing of my elbow. My forearm was bleeding pretty bad, but I ignored it and ushered my teammates in. I left a hastily written note along with $500 on the counter and then forced everyone out of the deli once they grabbed some food.I grabbed a couple bottles of water and a roll of gauze for myself before I ran out and pulled the security gate down. I loaded the water into my vest, and dressed my wounds as fast as I could.
“Team Pugnastics, do you copy?” I voice in my ear said so suddenly that it made me jump.
“Holy shit, Danica! What the fuck happened?” I replied, feeling a little relieved.
“There was a blackout on our end. No time to explain.” she answered, “You guys need to get out of there now. You were right, there are zombies, and they’re headed your way. You need to get back to the Awesomeplane! And help Jessie, Everett, and Steve. The zombies reached them first and trapped them inside the plane.”
“Why don’t they just come and pick us up if they’re already in the plane?” Criss asked. Everyone was now listening in on the conversation, each of them with a grave look on their faces.
“Because the Zombie grinder is attached to the plane and them taking off would mean that they would be spraying zombie chum all over Miami. You guys need to hurry though, you’re already surrounded. Minigan, we’ve updated your gps with the coordinates of the zombie hoards. You will see that they’re closing in on you from all sides. We don’t know where in the hell they’re coming from. Just get out of there!”
“Done and done. Over and out.” I said into the earpiece. I then looked at my crew and said, “Well, you heard te sexy mathmatician, let’s get out of here. We should take the rooftops; that would be the safest route. Let’s just hope these zombies are the pre-2000 zombies.”
As we all sprinted across the plaza in order to get to the building closest to the Awesomeplane!, Phlegm asked, “what do you mean by, ‘pre-2000 zombie?”
“it’s simple,” I replied, slightly out of breath, “In the zombie movies before the year 2000, all the zombies did when they moved was shamble. Then, in 28 Days Later, the zombies could run. And in Zombieland, they could climb. For some reason, at the dawn of a new millennium, zombies gained new abilities.”
“So what you’re saying is that you want the zombies with poor motor skills,” she replied.
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Well, I’ve got some good news for you then, Minigan,” Mr. Expendable chimed in, ” that looks like the zombies we’re gonna be up against.” he pointed to the other end of the Plaza where a lone zombie shuffled in, groaning slightly. After a few moments of doing this, it spotted us. It then pointed directly at us, wailed a horrible, head splitting wail, and began to sprint at us along with four more that had just turned the corner.
“Fuck nuggets.” The Knifemaster said.
“Everyone,” I yelled, “climb up to the roof! Damien, you lead. I’ll hold these five off. GO!”
With Damien’s expert Parkour skills leading the way, most of my team scaled the façade with ease; this was never was the Knifemaster’s strong suit. I began to charge at the zombies, my machete and axe drawn, and from behind me I heard Mr. Expendable yell to me, “I hope they are the members of that awful band One Direction!”

In a perfect world, they would be the zombies I’m about to kill.

Once I was close enough, I threw my axe at the leading zombie’s head. The axe made its mark, and the zombie toppled to the ground. One down. With a vicious slash with my machete, I was able to behead the second zombie. The third zombie lunged at me, but it had crouched low enough that I was able to leap over it and stab the crown of it’s head. With a swift yank once I landed, I was able to remove the skull from the vertebrae and send the skull flying at the fourth. The flying skull hit the other zombie’s face so hard that both skulls shattered, and the fourth zombie dropped to the ground. I was close enough to the first zombie that I could pull the axe from its skull and swing it at the final zombie’s head. With a loud crunch, the axe connected with the zombie’s temple, instantly killing it.

With one swift pull, I removed the axe from its skull, hastily poured a bottle of water over it and my machete’s blades and returned them to their sheathes, and ran off to the building my team had scaled. As I ran, I looked at my GPS for the first time since Danica updated it. Jesus undead Christ. Other than the grey rectangles that represented the buildings and the large green square of the plaza, the entire screen was red. There had to be at least 10,000 zombies surrounding us. Needless to say, I climbed my fucking ass off. I had almost reached the top when the first group of zombies entered the far end of the Plaza. I heard one scream (They spotted me. Shit.), and then their heavy, rapid footsteps as they ran towards the building I was scaling. I reached the top and rolled over the ledge to safety, but when I looked back over, I saw the most confusing and terrifying sight ever. The zombies were scaling the building in the exact same fashion that my team and I had done. Their movements weren’t stiff and uncoordinated like a zombie, but fluid and quick like someone who was experienced with-
“Sweet virgin mother of dirty fucks, the zombies can parkour!” I screamed at my team, who had just begun to relax a little.
“What?!” they cried in unison.
“You heard me, let’s get a move- DAMIEN WATCH OUT BEHIND YOU!!!!”
A zombie just appeared from the ledge right behind him. With one fluid motion, Damien Walters round-house kicked the head right of the zombie, and into another zombie that had breached the rooftop, sending it back over the edge. (And that, my friends, is the most badass sentence I will ever write.)
Before any of us really knew what we were doing, we had run to and climbed onto the ledge of a taller adjoining building. This one was much longer too, giving us some much needed space between us and the zombies. However, it wasn’t long enough. If it had just extended about 20 more feet out, we could possibly jump to the roof across the street. Sure we’d be going in the wrong direction, but it was better than staying where we were.
Phlegm then pointed to a water tower across the street, and said, “If I can hit that with my grappling gun, we could zipline across!”
I could have kissed the woman. “Where did you get the grappling gun?” I asked instead.
“Everett gave it to me before we separated. He thought we could use it.”
“Awesome,” I replied, “All the more reason we need to get to him, Jessie, and Steve and save them.”
She handed off the grappling gun Criss (He has the best aim. You know, magic aim) and he fired it right into the center of the water tower. We tied the other end of the cable to a sturdy looking antennae near the ledge. One at a time, but as quickly as possible, my crew made it across until only The Knifemaster and I were left. That was when a zombie jumped up to the far end of the roof we’re on. Once it saw us, it sprinted as us, hurdling over air conditioning units and generators like he had years of practice.
“Well, I just soiled myself,” The Knifemaster said rather casually given our situation.
“No time to regroup,” I hurridly explain, locking his zipline trolley into place and kicking him over the edge. He screamed briefly as he zipped across the street.
Now it was my turn. The zombie had closed in fast. I pulled my Desert Eagle out of its holster and fired a single shot into the forhead of the zombie. It stumbled, fell forward and slid a foot or two before coming to a complete stop. The relief was short lived. More zombies had climbed up at the far end of the room and were now barreling down on me. I quickly set myself up on the line and jumped off the roof. I had almost made it to the other side before the antennae bent forward, because fuck me. Since it had bent, the end attached to the antennae was now lower than the water tower end, so I began to drift backwards. With my hands, I pulled myself back towards my team. And that was when the antennae gave out completely. With a loud crack, I felt myself swinging towards the red brick of the building I was trying to get to. I hit the wall hard, its hot, rough surface scraping my cheek. There were several screeches from below, meaning they had spotted me. Seriously, fuck me. I climbed up the wall as quickly as I could, But the zombies could climb so much faster, and within no time, I could feel them grabbing at my boots. Once I was close enough to the top, I felt the hands of Criss and Damien lift me to safety. They then jumped with me to the left, and the giant water tower toppled over, spilling its contents over the edge and onto the climbing zombies. I looked up to see that The Knifemaster, Mr. Expendable, and Phlegm had knocked out two of the water tower’s supports and then tipped the thing over.
We had finally caught a break when we realized that we would mostly have to cross alleys to get back to Everett, Jessie, and Steve. We didn’t waste any time being thankful, but instead immediately took to jumping from one rooftop, and landing with a somersault on the next. Several zombies had made their way up to the rooftops and were now running after us, mathing our parkour moves with their own. Periodically, I would turn around and fire one or two bullets at them, and The Knifemaster would throw a throwing knife or two at them before we would continue on our way.
At one such point, The Knifemaster throws a knife at a zombie, which hits it directly in its eye socket, and then says to me as we start running again, “Don’t even fucking say it, Minigan”
“What?” I ask between breaths.
“You goddamn know what,” he replies too, also out of breath.
In an offended tone, I stated, “This really isn’t the time to be having this conversation, Jibbles, what with zombies chasing us and all. You know, the Zombies that I said existed.”
“You know, Minigan, even in situations like these you still manage to be a total asshole.”
We laughed a little bit, and then jumped up a wall to a higher roof. Once we were on top, we saw the rest of our team sprinting across a long, narrow catwalk that should take us from the current rooftop to the final rooftop before our parking lot and the Awesomeplane!. The Knifemaster and I joined in on their dash right as a dozen or so more zombies crested the ledge and started after us.
The Catwalk was shaky and took us right above the hoard of undead on the street. Keeping my eyes away from the crawling ground below, and instead on the backs of my team’s heads, I made it across without any incident. When I looked back, 50 to 60 zombies were fighting their way across the catwalk.
“Bloody violent fucks all around,” Damien shouted.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“We’re fucking trapped, that’s what’s the matter! I just looked over the ledge facing the parking lot, and there’s nothing between the plane and us but zombies.And now we have a line of zombies headed down our only exit. How the fuck are zombies able to parkour anyway?”

“I don’t know,” I frantically shouted back, “How were the zombies in Zombieland able to climb amusement park rides? How were the zombies in the Dawn of the Dead remake able to run? How were the zombie strippers in the movie Zombie Strippers able to fucking work the pole? It’s just how the zombies of the new millennium work.” Then it hit me. “Holy shit! All of those movies were from 2000-2009! We’re in a new decade, which means the zombies can do do more than what they could three years ago! God seriously fucked us this decade!”
I ran to the ledge facing the parking lot, and to my dismay, the zombie hoard was so thick that you couldn’t see the pavement. A football field away was the Awesomeplane, hovering right out of reach from the zombies, but also tethered to the ground by the Zombie Grinder. On the Brightside, that seemed to be working perfectly. A constant flow of zombies were climbing the stairs, reaching for the brains, and falling right into the grinding pit. We should have built more of those.
“Minigan,” Phlegm asked with terror in her voice, “What are we going to do?”
Everyone was looking to me. I theorized, “Maybe we can destroy the catwalk before they get to us.” I looked at the structural componants of the catwalk. Fuck. Despite it being shaky, the damn thing was structurally sound. “If only we had a bomb or something, we could blow it up.”
“I have bombs,” Mr. Expendable said. We all turned to him, shocked. “Well,” he said, “I know we’re not supposed to have them in urban areas, because we could hurt civilians, but I thought just bringing some along if we needed them couldn’t hurt.”
“Very good point.” I said quickly, “If we get out of this, we’ll all be required to carry bombs and grappling guns with us on urban missions. Now, hand me one of those bombs.”
He rummaged through the sack on his back, pulled out a black sphere about the size of a coconut, and handed it to me. Although it was the size of a coconut, it weighed at least three times as much. It was perfectly smooth except for a thin groove that ran the full way around the center. Irregularly scattered along the groove was a series of short white lines, that, when lined up, armed the bomb. This was one of Everett’s bombs. I lined up the lines and then rolled the bomb onto the catwalk. It rolled to a stop about 15 yards away from our roof and maybe 20 feet away from the zombie out in front. In a crazed frenzy, the zombies ran and jumped and scrambled at the bomb. When the zombie in the lead bent over to gram it, the bomb exploded , sending zombie limbs and pieces of metal off in every direction. The remaining catwalk groaned, and after several loud cracking noises, the catwalk swayed, ripped off of the other building, and crashed to the ground, crushing and impaling countless zombies.
“Well, that’s one problem solved,” The Knifemaster said, “But how do we get to the others?”
“I have an idea,” I said to him. I then turned to Mr. Expendable and asked, “How many more bombs do you have?”
“5”
“Good.” I reply, “Criss, do you think you can levitate over to the Awesomeplane?”
“Think?” he asked incredulously , “Pfsh, I’ve levitated across much longer distances than that.”
“Do you think you could drop the bombs as you levitated across the parking lot?”
“That I can’t do,” he replied, “All of my concentration needs to be on levitating otherwise I’ll just fall to the ground.”
“Then do you think you could carry someone across?” I asked.
“Hmm, I’ve never tried it, but I guess I could give it a shot.”
“Awesome,” I said back. “Phlegm,” I said turning to her, “You’re the lightest out of all of us. You’ll need to hold on to Criss and drop the bombs into the zombie crowd. Make sure you space it out enough so that we can get the entire way to the Awesomeplane!, Got it?”
“Got it.” She answered. She took the bag of bombs from Mr. Expendable, and then wrapped her arms tightly around Criss’s torso. After about a second of both of them being still, they lifted off the ground and drifted towards the Awesomeplane!. She dropped the first bomb about ten feet away from the building. When it exploded, it left a zombie free crater, big enough for the remaining four of us to stand in, plus some extra room for each of us. Following my lead, we jumped down from the roof onto a streetlight, and then swung ourselves into the crater. In a flash, I had assembled my Justice stick and was ready to kick some mother fucking undead ass. Once Damien, Mr. Expendable, and The Knifemaster hand landed in the crater, they had their weapons drawn and were fighting our way out of the crater. The next few minutes were a blur of growling zombies, the clang of our weapons, and zombie gore. All around us, zombie body parts were flying . The damn zombies couldn’t even touch us. We were way too efficient in killing. Another bomb went off somewhere ahead of us. We watched as the firey plume sent several smaller black balls into the air. For each of those balls was another explosion, and from those firey plumes came dozens more, even smaller balls.
“Cluster bombs,” I said, to the other three, “that will make it easier on us. What all kinds of bombs did you get, Mr. Expendable?”
“I’m not sure,” he answered between beheading a particularly rotten zombie that appeared to be an old woman and chopping a zombie missing most of its face with an axe, “I just grabbed a bunch of different ones.
The zombie crowd got thinner once we got to where Phlegm dropped the cluster bomb, so we were able to move a little faster. However, the sound of another bomb exploding much farther away told us that we weren’t moving fast enough. We tried to pick up our pace, but it was no use; the third bomb dropped and sounded even further away.
I tapped my earpiece, and said, “Phlegm, tell Criss to slow down, we cannot keep up with you guys.”
“I’ve been trying to,” she replied, “But he’s so far in the zone that I don’t even think he can hear me.”
“Fuck,” the four of us cried in unison.
After a few more minutes the fourth bomb went off and Phlegm’s voice came back on the earpiece, “We’ve reached the plane. How far along are you guys?”
“Not Far,” I answered grimly. “Everett, are you guys ok?”
“We’re fine, and I discovered that the zombie remains are highly combustible,” he said, “Which is good, because the plane’s waste tank is full and the zombie grinder is overflowing.”
“Good.” I said, “We’ll save that for once we’re all on the plane. Right now you need to use the dehydration ray.”
“Got it, Boss” he said, “Over and out.”
“We need to fucking hurry,” I said to the rest of my team, which was pointless, because they already knew. There was an open space ahead of me, and at the other end, a particularly muscular and ugly looking zombie. I sprinted at him, and he at me. At the last second, I jabbed the end of my Justice Stick into the ground, and pole vaulted over the zombie. While in the air, I flipped my Justice Stick around, and impaled the zombie from the head down. When I landed, I whipped my Justice stick, it still impaling the zombie, over my head, and smashed it into another zombie. I then swung it around and hit every zombie in my path until the first zombie finally slid off. The other three caught up with me when we heard a loud hum begin.
“The Dehydration ray!” Mr. Expendable exclaimed, “Everyone, drop to the ground!”
Right as we did, a wave of intense heat washed over us. Suddenly, the zombies didn’t matter, my teammates didn’t matter, the fact that I was crouching in some weird gloop didn’t matter, al that mattered was that I get out of this heat. The feeling consumed my being. It became so intense that I swear time stood still. Within what felt like an eternity, the heat disappeared, and I suddenly found myself in the middle of a petrified forest made entirely of zombies.
The four of us were running towards the Awesomeplane! before I fully understood what had happened. And despite Everett blasting a large section of the zombies with the dehydration ray, there were still thousands more waiting for us. We bolted past the dried zombies, knocking over whichever ones were in our way and letting them fall to the ground and shatter like vases.
We made it to the Awesomeplane! while Jessie was pulling the hose out of the waste tank and closing it up. We all made it on board before Everett threw the final bomb, a “firebomb” he said with a smile, into the gloop that I remember not caring about just thirty seconds ago. The plane lifted off right as the bomb ingnited and torched the entire parking lot, killing the all of the zombies.
“We made it!” Phlegm exclaimed, “We’re alive!”
“Not so fast,” an unfamiliar voice said from one of the speakers.
“Who is this?” I asked in my firmest voice, which sounded more like a growl.
“Oh, I will not be giving that away so easily, Awesomesquad!.” The voice said in a sinister tone.I immediately guessed that normally this guy sounded like a whiny prick. “I just wanted to thank you.”
“Thank us for what?” The Knifemaster asked.
“I wanted to thank you for all the valuable information you gave me today. You see, This little zombie apocalypse was just to get you guys distracted enough so that I could hack into your mainframe and steal all of your vital information. This information will come in handy for me later on when I need to kill all of you. Goodbye!” The mysterious man laughed manically before the connection was cut.
We all sat in our seats quietly for a second or two before I finally said, “Well, shit.”

Awesomesquad Assemble! 4: Mark of the Oil Beast

Before I get started, I would like to let Chris Thorn know that he does not need to waste those precious few moments he has left in his sad, decrepit life by reading my blog. Chris, since I am giving you the option to go, I do not want to hear any shit from you about me wasting your life.  I hope you enjoy the time I am giving back to you and can only expect that you will use that time to facebook stalk me. Also, I would check my grammar, but fuck you.

____________________________________________________________________________________

The hallway was dark, quiet, and deserted. On one end, a group of leaders of the terrorist organization known as” Murderhorn,” gathered together. They pointed their AK-47s into the black, shooting at whatever movement they hallucinate. One of the men was attempting to pick the lock and break into the room closest to them. On the other end of the hallway, around the corner, a group of badasses armed to the teeth with custom weaponry was planning their next move. A black-haired man wearing guy liner, a pair of tight fitting jeans, and a leather vest was standing up against the wall next to a woman in full body armor. She has more firepower on her than a fireworks shop owner with a score to settle. The terrorists broke through the doors and rushed in, closing the doors behind them. The terrorists left behind a group of five heavily armed thugs to buy some time.

Our two mysterious figures concealed in the dark looked to the opposing wall, where two of their team members are also concealed. The man in the front, wearing a white cloak and a camelback hydration system(product placement), turned to the man behind him and said, “Everett, you blind them, and I will run up and fuck their shit up.” he then continued to the rest of the team, “Once I have them distracted, you three will run up and engage them. They will show no mercy, so don’t expect or give any.”

He crouched down and quickly, but silently moved forward. When he was almost within sight of the group guarding the door, a small cube flew through the air, over the head of the cloaked man, and towards the thugs. They watched as the cube fell into the middle of them and exploded into a flash of blinding white light. The men stumbled around for a second or two before regaining the use of their eyes. When they did, the man in the white cloak was standing perfectly still in the center of the circle the bad guys had formed. The armed thugs pointed their fully automatic guns at the cloaked individual  and began to fire.

The cloaked man grabbed the barrel of one of the man’s guns, pulled it past him, and then grabbed onto the gun holder’s shoulder and firing hand from behind. The other thugs shot at the cloaked man, but the bullets merely hit their comrade. The cloaked man, used his human shield’s gun to shoot at the other thugs, taking out one of them. The other three members of the cloaked man’s team came forward and quickly dispatched of the remaining guards using their own style of combat. The woman using Tai Kwon Do, the man in the leather vest using magic(not the really gay magic, only the slightly gay kind), and Everett using wrist mounted flame throwers.

“OK,” Everett said with a breath of relief, “Now to get through the door.”

The man in the cloak looked to the woman and asked, “Would you mind doing the honor, Lady Caggiano?”

“Certainly,” Lady Caggiano stated as she walked up to the door. She landed one solid kick on the door knob, and the door exploded like something out of a Michael Bay movie, fire and all. The team ran through the gaping hole where the door used to be to see one terrorist, a woman in a black catsuit and wire rimmed glasses, standing guard at the door on the opposite end of the room, ready to kick some ass.

Sarah Palin?

The leader of the group took a sip from his camelback hydration system (product placement), and ran at the  woman. The woman instinctively shot at him. The bullets, although making their mark, only slowed the progress of the man in the cloak slightly. By the time he reached her, she had shot her last bullet, and was frantically attempting to reload. One swift roundhouse kick from the cloaked man knocked the gun from her hand, out of her reach and unloaded. She was basically fucked at this point.

She did a backflip or two to get away from the cloaked man, and then set herself in a defensive position (which is not a sexual position, but more of a fighting one). All the while, making those weird noises that one usually associates with a white person doing karate.

The man in the cloak strode towards her and said, “I am not afraid to hit a woman.” He then produced his pole arm that for some reason was unnoticeable until just then, and buried its blade in her stomach.

She looked at him as if he had just insulted her and said, “But I can see Russia from my house!”

The cloaked man replied, “I don’t care,” and forced the woman off of his pole arm with his foot. She fell to a crumpled and very dead heap on the floor.

His teammates walked up from behind him, Lady Caggiano glaring at him.

“What,” he asked.

“You’re not afraid to hit a woman?” Lady Caggiano snapped.

“Holyshit, that was actually Sarah Palin!” The man in the leather vest exclaimed, staring at the dead woman on the floor.

“ But I didn’t hit her,” the cloaked man pointed out, “I penetrated her with my justice stick.”

“No, seriously guys, this is actually Sarah Palin. Thunder, you killed her!” The man in the leather vest continued.

Lady Caggiano replied hotly, “First of all, I really think it is a bad idea to make domestic abuse jokes to the people who we know control the media. And secondly, that sounded so dirty.”

“Ok, you two, calm down,” Everett stated, “We need to get through these doors and apprehend these terrorists.”

“Am I the only one who finds it weird that there was just a joke, not even 400 words ago that pointed out her resemblance to Sarah Palin, and it actually turns out to be Sarah Palin? What the fuck?” the man asked.

“Shut up, Criss,” Thunder snapped, “You’re breaking the fourth wall again. I don’t care if you are magic, stop doing that, it creeps us all out. Oh, and what did I fucking say about that hair? Put your Goddamn fedora back on.”

Seriously, you look like an asshole.

Criss Angel silently obeyed, and the group moved closed in on the door. On the other side, they heard the frantic whisperings of the remaining terrorists.

“C’mon,” Thunder commanded, “We need to defeat these douchebags and save their hostage so that we can get back to base and get wasted!” Thunder then raised his fist to the air, and called out, “KAPLAH!!!”

“KAPLAH!!!” the other team members called out in unison.

They all stepped away from the door and Everett raised his fist at the door. There was the sound of a faint click, and a grappling hook shot from the reel on the back of his hand and embedded itself in the double doors. With a slight jerk back from Everett, the doors were ripped from their frame and flew over the teams heads. The door was followed by a hail of gunfire. The grappling hook released its grip from the door and Everett and the rest of the team took cover.

Thunder looked over to Criss. “You got this?” he asked in a whisper.

Criss simply nodded, sat quietly with his eyes closed for a second, and then moved to the door way. He raised both of his arms, and started walking forward. The bullets aggressively flew at him, but every single one that hit him passed through without leaving so much as a bruise. With a flick of the wrist, the bullets’ trajectories shifted, and now orbited Criss.  After moving a few feet closer to the shooters, he let both of his hands drop, and the bullet-satellites launched themselves at their former masters. The men dropped to the ground as lead-filled heaps of death. Criss turned to face his teammates, put a smirk on his face, and flicked them the devil horns.

“Oh, thank God you have arrived Awesomesquad!” a voice cried from the corner. A voice, which the entire group was disappointed to realize that belonged to a man and not an attractive brunette named Olivia Wilde. A blond man sporting a flesh colored beard and some soiled, expensive looking clothes came crawling out of a dark corner in a similar fashion to Gollum’s way of walking.

“Holy shit,” Criss cried out, “Is that Spencer Pratt?!?!”

what a douche

“Yea, I’m fucking Spencer Pratt,” the hostage snapped, “Who the fuck would I be, not the most important person on the face of the planet? Get with the game, retard.”

Lady Caggiano, whose mothering instinct suddenly kicked in, rushed over to the crawling douche-bag and asked, “Omigosh, are you OK?”

“Yea I’m fine,” Spencer replied, “They slapped me around and made me wear a dress, but other than that I’m ok”. “I am hungry though,” he continued, “Does anybody have anything to eat?” He looked at Lady Caggiano again, closer this time, and followed her form from her legs to her chest and back down again. “You got a nice set of legs on you, baby,” he added in what he thought was a seductive voice, “I wouldn’t mind chewing on them. PPPPPUUUUUURRRRRRRR!”

The look of caring melted from Lady Caggiano’s face, and she replied flatly, “Chew on this.” She raised her revolver, whom she calls “Ole Shooty Killy” and drove a bullet into Spencer’s brain. He drops back to the ground like the dead log that his personality has reflected for his entire life. “What?” She said as she looked to the rest of the group. That was not the feminist in me that did that, it was the part of me that hates Spencer Pratt, which is actually all of me.”

Thunder replied, “Hey, if we would have had the chance to kill him, we would have, so don’t sweat it.” He turned to the entire group as he continued, “See, this is why we had that catchy one-liner seminar. Good work, Lady Caggiano. Very catchy indeed.”

“Thank You, Thunder,I am pretty awesome, aren’t I?” Lady Caggiano replied. “But I think we should look around and see what these members of Murderhorn had with them,” she then suggested.

Thunder nodded, “Good idea, see if they have any cash on them. I like it.” The three men started to rummage through the pockets of the disceased, a flicker of greed in their eyes.”

“That’s not what I meant by seeing what they had with them,”  Lady Caggiano said in a mildly disgusted voice, “but since you guys seem so intent on stealing from the dead, I CALL DIBS ON SPENCER PRATT’S WALLET!!!”

This call was met by groans from the three men, but  groans quickly died and the four continued on. However, the groans resumed when Lady Caggiano pulled out $500 from the douchebag’s wallet. After several minutes, and collecting at least a thousand dollars worth of spoils, the group as a whole turned to a lone briefcase near one of the leader’s bodies. Thunder opened it, and its contents spilled to the floor. The papers, which all seemed to be important terroristy documents, shared a particular symbol on the top right corner of every page. Our group of heroes gasped unanimously, for they instantly recognized the symbol and the company it belonged to. They stared at the yellow and green symbol in amazement until the bottom of the briefcase, which Thunder was still holding, fell out, and revealed a digital clock counting down towards zero. 1:00, :59, :58…

The feeling that some serious shit was about to hit the fan dropped into Thunder’s stomach as he realized what it was. “BOMB! RUUUNNNNN!!!!”

The four teammates left the suitcase bomb and the crucial documents on the floor as the dashed out of the room and back through the other room and hallway. Thunder, who was bringing up the rear, grabbed one lone document with the symbol on it, lifted his wrist to right in front of his face, and commanded, “Jesse, get the Awesomeplane! started, and bring it around front. This place is going to blow!” :45, :44, :43…

A voice on the other end replied, “Ok, we will be waiting for you.”

The group picked up their pace, and lept over the dead bodies of all of the thugs they killed. As Thunder lept over one body, its hand reached up and attached itself to his ankle, bringing the leader crashing to the earth with an “AAARRRGGGGHHHH!”:22, :21…

His teammates stopped to help him, but Thunder cried, “Just go!”

With a slight hesitation,the group once again ran for their lives towards the exit. The man who was by all accounts not dead, climbed on top of Thunder, pinning Thunder’s hands against the floor,  pulled out his Baretta and aimed it at our hero’s head. “Prepare to die, you bloody wanker.” The man said in a British accent (duh). :15, :14…

Just as the man was about to pull the trigger, Thunder was able to free one of his hands as grabbed a hold of the gun and moved it away from his skull. Thunder pushed the British terrorist off of his person, and was back on his feat in a flash. The terrorist ran at the cloaked man while shooting like a deranged lunatic. Thunder then whipped out his Justice Stick again (all dick jokes aside, where the fuck does he hide that thing?) and stabbed the man in the heart. “Fuck you, your taxes, and your tea, you goddamn Brit,” Thunder growled as he twisted The Justice stick and pushed again, forcing the blade out of the man’s back. He then made a jerking motion  back to remove the pole arm from the once-thought-to-be-dead-but-now-actually-dead man  and once again sprinted to the exit.:05, :04…

Meanwhile, Everett, Criss, and Lady Caggiano climbed aboard the Awesomeplane! out of breath, and worried of what has become of their cloaked leader. Everett, climbed into the cockpit and called, “Minigan is still in there, we can’t leave yet!”

“I’ll give him as much time as I can, but that place is about to blow, and we have to be airborne when that happens, or else we are going to sink with the rest of this island!”

Meanwhile, back inside the building, thunder was racing towards the exit. He quickly turned the corner and saw the open door. He ran at the door, faster than even he thought was possible, while all noises were drowned out by the rushing of his blood to his brain. :02, :01, :00. He did, however, hear the explosion. Thunder sprinted harder. He feared to look back, but it didn’t matter; the the light of fireball rushing down the hallway was enough of an indication of what was behind him. He burst through the door to see the Awesomeplane! about to leave his ass behind. “What the Fuck?!?!” he cried out, still running at it.

Suddenly, the door to the aircraft opened, and his team members beckoned him in. [picture this next bit occurring in slow motion for maximum effect] Pumping his legs with all he’s got, Thunder launched himself off the edge of the concrete platform just at the said platform exploded. The shockwave from the explosion pushed Thunder enough so that he flew straight into the cabin of the Awesomeplane!. [end slow motion]

“Blamo!” Lady Caggiano exclaimed as she helped Thunder to his feet.

“It’s good to see you make it out of there  in one piece, Minigan,” Emily Kohlberg, the team psychologist, affirmed happily, “the party would have sucked tonight if we would have had to make it a vigil.”

“I’m glad to hear I didn’t ruin the party,” Thunder said jokingly, “It’s just too bad that Jimmy was so busy spending time with his girlfriend that he couldn’t join this team and be a part of this awesomeness.”

“Good work team,” a familiar voice eminated from the onboard TV.

“Thank’s Spottswoode,” Thunder said, “Sadly, we could not save the hostage.

“Who was it?” Emily asked.

Ashley replied, “Spencer Pratt.”

“Oh,” Spottswoode interjected, “So you killed him. That’s fine; I would have done the same.”

“We kind of figured that the world would be better off without him,” Thunder stated,”We did, however, learn something new about who funds Murderhorn while we were in there.” Thunder showed Emily and The camera feeding to Spottswoode the symbol on the upper right hand corner of the document he retrieved.

“Oh my God,” Spottswoode uttered, “We have a serious situation on our hands if that company is funding Murderhorn, but lets worry about that after the party.”

The entire group agreed, and proceeded on their way back to their base, making jokes about Jimmy Kohlberg all the while.

Well, see if I let you into my superhero club now, Jimmy. Fucking dick.

Outside the window, the Island that housed the Murderhorn organization sank down to the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, probably causing more damage to the already beaten ecosystem.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

If you have not read the first three Awesomesquad blogs, you can find them: right here, over here, and way over there.

Anyway, as with my other Awesomesquad Assemble! posts, I am going to update you on our progress. First off, I would like to say that I contacted many of the people that I want in my group, but I do not know personally. Only one had replied, but his reply was a “yes” so fuck yea! The problem is that he is a public figure (kinda), so we needed to figure out how to get him completely out of the public eye. Sadly, the only possible way to do this was to ruin his name.  Seeing that this was the only option, and he was surprisingly into this whole “superhero team” idea, he agreed to go through with it. I had him cheat on his wife, get caught, and let the media have a field day. Now, you may be saying to yourself that that is counterproductive if I want him to be out of the public eye, but I disagree. I call this tactic the “John Gosslin Ditch.” What it does is makes the person who does it despicable in the eyes of the public. For a while, the couple will be featured on the cover of every shitty gossip magazine in every grocery store, but eventually the media will only focus on the victim (aka the spouse) and the person who committed it will fall into obscurity, only to be brought up in passing. So far, my man has done an excellent job at employing the John Gosslin Ditch. I would like to applaud Jesse James in his determination, and in his desire to not break Sandra Bullock’s heart by being tortured and murdered, but instead by committing adultery. Kudos to you, good sir; your ancestors would be proud.

Pictured- American Hero

Secondly, I have acquired our headquarters! Seeing as though this blog is public, It would be unwise of me to tell you the location or post a picture of it, but then again, I did just specifically state that Jesse James is in my group, so fuck it.

Tada!

There is an industrial complex near my house, and one of them is sitting there, empty and ready to be sold. Once I figure out who is going to be the rich person who funds everything, I will have him acquire it. Then, we can get under way constructing the super secret tunnel that runs from our base to my house. That will make things convenient for me if no one else. It also adds the theme of trying to protect the ones you love, but you bring them closer to the danger. If you don’t know what I am talking about, it is the reason Peter Parker bitches out of getting in MJ’s pants at the end of the first Spiderman movie

I have begun work on creating the symbol for the group. I have an idea in mind, but I still need to draw it up first. Next time I update, I hope to have some of the choices up for some type of voting process. Yay Democracy!

Next item of business: new members. I actually only have one new member this time and he is going to be my genetic engineer. I work with the man at the WS, so not only do I know that he is smart, I also know that he is a good writer and a fairly decent worker. The person I am talking about is (of course) Sean McCormick! (Sorry Bill and Terry)

He even comes with his own costume and laser gun!

Sean is unfortunately focusing his work on seaweed or some strange shit, so if he would alter our genes,  we would look something like this:

Dudes, I think that weed was bad. I'm totally tripping balls.

-which I still have not decided whether this would be a good or a bad thing. Anyway, he would need to go through some extensive training before he would be allowed to modify anyone in Awesomesquad, but I think that our heightened reflexes/ heat vision would be well worth the wait. And with Danica McKellar looking at his equations, we can be sure that his math will be done correctly. See, there IS a good reason to have a math genius on the team.

I would love to see her lowest common denominator.

I have also decided on who is going to be the boxing instructer! After careful deliberation, and after weighing the pros and the cons of each candidate, I have decided that the title goes to…

>
>>
>>>
>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>
>>>
>>
>
>
>>
>>>
>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>
>>>
>>
>
>
>>
>>>
>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>
>>>
>>
>
>
>>
>>>
>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>
>>>
>>
>
>
>>
>>>
>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>
>>>
>>
>

>
>>
>>>
>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>
>>>
>>
>
>
>>
>>>
>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> I’m so lonely
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>
>>>
>>
>

I forget what I was talking about. Fuck. Oh yea, that’s right, the fighting coach. Yea, the person who has that spot is Damien Walters. If that name sounds familiar to you, it is because you have probably read my Awesomesquad blogs before. He is also my gymnastics instructor. If you are wondering why I would let a gymnast also teach me how to fight, you are sane. I would have never chosen him as my fight coach if it wasn’t for this picture:

That is Mr. Walters in the Kickass costume. He was a stuntman in it. But not only was he the stuntman, he was also the assistant fight coordinator for the movie. That’s badass, and it makes him worthy of the second position. I also chose him because neither my brother nor the owner of my gym has mentioned the Awesomesquad blog posts to me other than when my brother accepted the challenge. And I am pretty sure that he has forgotten all about it since then. So yea, fuck those guys. Besides, one less team member means one less paycheck and one less person that could be shot/ killed/ captured/ tortured/ go rogue. A more elite team is probably in our best interest.

So as it stands, here who is in my team so far:

Me- Leader

Ashley Caggiano- Second in Command

Damien Walters- Gymnastics/ boxing trainer

Everett Bradford- Weapons tech

Criss Angel- Magician

Derren Brown- Mind hacker

DMZ-computer hacker

Jesse James- Vehicle builder

Emily Kohlberg- Psychologist

Sean McCormick- Genetic Biologist

Danica McKellar- Math Nerd

This asian dude- Ninja/ covert ops

That’s 11 people so far, but I still need the medic and the rich person to fund everything, so I still cannot complete this group and make sure everything is up and running yet. This disturbs me because our Rouges gallery is growing with every blog post. Our latest villain is the most diabolical yet. He rose to power of a major corporation specifically to make that company bring about the end of days. His soul purpose is to destroy America. He also wants Al Gore to feel the pain of unfathomable sadness, but Hell, we all want that now and again.

The man I speak of gets his power from the tears of environmentalists and from the blood of manatees. Currently, he resides in his volcano lair off the cost of Haiti, where his earthquake machine undoubtedly caused the devastation in that country earlier this year. He enjoys destroying the environment, raising the price of oil, and going on boat rides. The man I am talking about is Tony Hayward of BP.

The son of a bitch

As of this moment, he looks like your normal, everyday, British prick. But with his current power, and his minions who work for the U.S. Government (Texas Representative Joe Barton is still sucking Hayward’s dick), Hayward is quite possibly unstoppable. I have calculated that if his power continues to go unchecked, he could morph into a monster the likes of which have never been seen. Here is my estimate of what he is going to look like this time next year if no one stops him:

God help us

That shoddy photo-shopping is accurate; he will become a sentient mud-beast with shape shifting abilities. He must be brought down. This also means that the symbol on the upper right hand corner of the papers in the briefcase was… Oh my God

For now, I am calling all of the members who have already accepted my offer to join Awesomesquad to actually assemble so that we can defeat this monster. We even have Cracked.com behind us on this one. That basically gives us the go ahead to do something.

Give peace a chance, but only after you have exhausted all of the ways you can fight a war.

Awesomesquad Assemble 3!: Attack of the Fashionista

Well, here we go again.

Wait, that isn’t the right tone for this blog. Let me try again.

JESUS-DRADLE-SPINNING CHRIST, ANOTHER AWESOMESQUAD BLOG!!!!! EVERYONE GET DRUNK AND  PARTAAAY!!!

Woo! Doug wrote another blog!!!

[clears throat] That’s better. I am particularly happy about this blog, since I haven’t updated ya’ll since September on this topic. Here is a refresher: I have decided to create my own superhero team, and I have been scouring the interwebz for suitable people. Here is my list of people so far and their job:

Me: Leader/ something I will discuss later in this blog.

Ashley Caggiano: Second in Command/ Jane of all trades

Everett Bradford: Weapons Technician

Jessie James: Mechanic/ Vehicle Builder

Criss Angel: Mindfreak. More commonly known as WITCH! BURN HIM!!

Damien Walters: Gymnastic Trainer

My brother or the owner of my gym: boxing instructor (I will update this too)

Derren Brown: Mentalist aka less cool Criss Angel

GMZ: Hacker

Emily Kohlberg: Psychologist

If you want a full description of why I picked these people, and who our  nemesises (what the fuck is the plural form of “nemesis?) are, look at the first two. they are here and here

Before I go into the updates, I would like to congratulate Lady Caggiano for being promoted to the Second in command in my team. Ashley, I would say that you owe me oral now, but that would constitute sexual harassment, and even my team cannot avoid those lawsuits. Instead, I will make the idea of oral optional. Congratulations again.

For the first update, I am going to talk about the name. If you remember, I hadn’t come up with a name for my group, so I left it up to you guys. Unfortunatly, I forgot that no one really gives a shit about me (otherwise you would post a comment) and you left me hanging. After a while, I realized that I had already come up with a pants-shittingly fantastic name for the group. Yes, the group name is “Team Anal Rape and Murder Our Enemies.” TARAMOE for short. I can hear it now, a bunch of pissed off Muslims in some shithole of a country that is in the Middle East (Originally, I thought the Middle East was a burger joint for the longest time. I just found out yesterday what it really is). They are shooting at things with no regard for human life, civility, or even ammo rationing. But suddenly, the winds pick up. A thundering roar comes down from the sky like a meteor. They begin to piss themselves with fear.

“Derka, Derka, TARAMOE derka, derka!” They cry out.

A kick ass Plane designed by Jessie James shoots two rocket powered chainsaws at the enemy’s machine gun turrets. They explode with such huge fireballs that even Michael Bay would think it’s over the top. As the Plane is hovering (yea, my plane can hover, What of it?) over the group of terrified terrorists, the bottom hatch opens up. Lady Caggiano rappels down a rope while firing off an AK-47 with one hand. She is followed by Everett Bradford, who is shooting flames out of his one hand, electricity out of his other, and wielding a sword with his other. I fall straight to the ground, about forty feet. I am wearing a cloak similar to the one in Assassin’s Creed. My brother and/ or the owner of my gym throw down my pole arm, or what I like to call “My justice stick.” I reach up and snatch it out of the air. My partially conceled face smirks ominously, and I tap a keg of whoopass on the terrorists.

like this, only 1573 times more badass

The boxing instructor, and Damien Walters repel down to the desert floor, but you shouldn’t be looking at them; you should be focused on how awesome I am being. Shit, you missed it! I just stabbed a guy with my justice stick (wow did that sound gay) it went straight through him and caught another baddie between the ribs, puncturing his right lung. I pull it out, spin it around while it makes that cool “whoosh” noise, and beat the faith out of  another guy right before I send my palm at an upwards angle towards his nose. The cartilage pierces his skull and enters his brain. He is dead before he hits the ground.

Somewhere in the background, Damien Walters is doing back flips or some strange shit.  By this point, the battle has moved away from him, so he just looks like some random dude doing flips and shit in the desert.

The last terrorists still alive run away screaming like little girly-men which is insulting to women because Lady Caggiano kicked some fucking ass during this battle. You didn’t notice because you were too focused on me.

“I scream to our fleeing enemies, “Derka, Derka Muhammad Jihad, jihad derka TARAMOE, Bitches,” which roughly translates to “ You just got fucking pwned by TARAMOE, bitches!”

We then head home for debriefing and our traditional celebratory hooker run.

Oh, and actually I lied. The name of the group is Awesomesquad; TARAMOE was my second choice.

Anyway, update #2: my position in the team.

Recently I have rediscovered a rare gift that I have. I was at a party; I was a little drunk, and we were playing “are you smarter than a fifth grader?” my team won because I answered a question before my mind could doubt myself. The question was “what happens to light  when it moves through water or glass?” I blurted out, “It moves slower.” I was fucking right. And since I am technically sober right now, I can assure you that I still doubt my answer.

This brings me to my contribution to the team. As long as I remain a little drunk, I gain amazing abilities. I don’t mean I gain confidence; I mean that I become good at things I am not normally good at. It happens all the time: darts, pool, Pictionary, Are you smarter than a fifth grader, driving. I become very talented at these things when I am half way to hammered. Now, for me to function, I will need to have alcohol with me at all times during an excursion, but I have figured out a solution to this. That solution is Tucker Max Death Mix. It is one bottle of Everclear, one quart of Gatorade, and one Redbull in a camelback hydration system.

my awesomesquad brand awesomepotion!

So for that story I just fucked your mind with, you should have seen me take sips in between fighting each terrorist.

Update #3: boxing instructor

I still haven’t picked one yet, mainly because they suck and haven’t been fighting for that spot. My brother said he would train to punch someone so hard that they threw up, but he hasn’t, and I don’t think the owner has even read any of the Awesome Squad! Posts, so he doesn’t have a fucking clue as to what’s going on.

But I still want one of them to be the boxing instructor, so I am just going to commit some heinous liable on both of them. Maybe this will get them off of their lazy asses and fight for that spot, Goddamn it.

  1. My brother is gay. I mean, really gay. I mean, the posterchild of the gay stereotype. He seriously loves some huge black dong.
  2. The owner of my gym strangles babies.
  3. My brother (who is really gay) takes shits on cop cars. He then proceeded to spread the poo all over the hood of the car-using his face.
  4. The owner of my gym buys mail order brides just to sell them into the sex slave trade.
  5. My brother (the gay) stabs homeless people with syringes filled with AIDS.
  6. The owner of my gym hates America. He pisses on the flag regularly.

If you are wondering if I am afraid that they will kick my ass when they read this, I am not, because those twunts won’t read it. And if they do, DO SOMETHING ABOUT WHAT I SAID, BITCHES. *

*please don’t kill me.

However, Misty did give me a good alternate. So now Benny “The Jet” Urquidez is in the running.

Update #4: New Members!

I know that my group is getting kind of big, but these next few people are important. I still have people that need to be added, but I don’t know who they are yet, but I’ll get to that later.  Here are the newest additions:

This dude: Ninja/ covert ops

I have no clue who this guy is.  Let’s just call him “Series of Japanese Symbols.” Hey, that’s less offensive than my original ideas “Kung Pow Chicken,” or “Engrish.” Of course, I doubt he has an extensive knowledge of breaking and entering, but I also think he is a for realsies ninja, so he probably does. And if he doesn’t I’m sure there is a website for that kind of stuff.

Danica McKellar: Mathmatician/ spy

Yes it does. Don't lie.

Everyone knows that whatever you are taught in Math classes growing up is only useful until you reach college, and then it depends on your major.  At least that’s what the Math Professors want you to think; the truth is that no one uses trigonometry in real life. But, That show Numb3rs has got me convinced that people who are Mathsy are capable of solving any crime with the magic of mathematics, and using numbers as letters. 80085. See, I just solved like fifty crimes right now, simply by spelling boobs with numbers.

And if you are wondering why I chose Danica McKellar to be in my team, it is because she is a Math genius.

I would like to convert her fractions into decimals

She as written two books about math :Math Doesn’t Suck and Kiss My Math. Both of which encourage middle school girls to learn Math.

She also coauthored a scientific paper  (dealing with some boring math shit) with a fellow student and a professor. The result of the paper is the Chase-McKellar-Winn Theorem.

If you’re wondering how a mathematician can be a spy, look at this picture.

This is Danica when she was younger. Does she look more familiar? If you ever saw an episode of The Wonder Years, she should. That’s right, Winnie from the Wonder Years is a Math genius. And a damn fine one to boot. She doesn’t do a lot of acting now, but who can blame her? She had to kiss Fred Savage in the pilot episode of The Wonder Years! That would effectively end any woman’s love for acting.The fact that she is not a lesbian now is nothing short of a miracle. Plus the fact that she kissed Fred Savage and did not run away screaming is a testament to her acting ability.

These are the remaining positions that still need to be filled:

  1. Rich person who funds everything-?????- he will need to buy the tools needed to build Everett’s weapons and Jessie’s vehicles, the abandoned warehouse that we will convert into our super-secret HQ, the gym equipment for the gymnastic area and the boxing area, and whatever magic cards, top hats, trick coins, etc. that Criss and Derren will need.
  2. Genetic biologist-?????- someone willing to manipulate the teams genes to give them heightened reflexes, heightened senses, higher running speed, and more agility and stamina.
  3. Medic- ?????- someone who can tend to our wounds. I can handle some of the minor stuff, but it would be necessary to have a professional in the team in case shit goes down.

Update #5: the Villian

I had always been suspicious of this villian, but I just thought that the person was too strange for my taste. I did not sense any evil coming from this, that is, until I saw this video.

Now this video was a little subtle, but the point it was trying to convey is that Lady Gaga has a penis. But then I saw this picture.

I see plenty of hooha, but no gaga

I think this settles the debate about If Lady Gaga is a lady, or if she has a gaga. This did invoke more questions from me, however. I did some researching, and I discovered that Lady Gaga is actually an alien that wants to enslave the Human race. I was able to aquire a picture of Lady Gaga in her true form. Brace yourselves.

Actually, this is less terrifying than what she looks like normally.

Sadly, Lady Caggiano loves Lady Gaga, so this will cause some major conflicts to arise amongst the group. But eventually good will win out, and Ashley will fight against Gaga.

Later

  • I am this popular!

    • 93,708 hits
  • Blast from the Past!

    June 2017
    S M T W T F S
    « Mar    
     123
    45678910
    11121314151617
    18192021222324
    252627282930  
  • The Vault