Masquerade {Formerly The Broccoli Gang}

[ashdenej]

You're just having a bit of FUN! You wouldn't want to HURT the Doctor, even if his stories are very boring! You're on the floor - now ceiling - anyway, so it doesn't matter! Everyone else is tumbling around on whatever the current horizontal surface is. Despite this, they're doing their level best to get ahold of you. In other news, the mountain is pretty enormous at this point, and you think that steering is a fairly important priority for you at the moment. Your fine motor skills are not the best, but they'll have to do. Alternatively, you could just fix up matters with the Doctor... but that doesn't appeal to you. Calling on whatever gods there are, you give the ship a psionic tug, and hope for the best.

Some distance away, King Prawn is staring, red faced, at an unexpected guest.

Is Git 'Er Done some kind of joke title? In any case, NO.

[LinaLove]

Maker: See to it that everything rights itself and nobody important is dead ==>
(that wasn't a title suggestion)

[ashdenej]

Neglecting the newly introduced development, we once again return to the person who is fast becoming the most viewed, over taking even dear, sweet Baker. You've successfully avoided certain disaster, instead venturing into the territory of uncertain anger.

You sorely regard the results of your latest mishap - while the manoeuvre you accomplished allowed you to move away from becoming a part of the map, it still caused chaos within the craft itself. A tangle of extremely grumpy people lie at the other end, who rapidly extricate themselves from each other in order to scream their rage at you. You're even less popular than the verbose Doctor, which is certainly saying something.

King Prawn is still pretty miffed at his guest, too.

[LinaLove]

Switch!
King Prawn: Glare at your guest with the intensity of six trillion candles ==>

[ashdenej]

You are now KING PRAWN, and DON'T HAVE MUCH OF A PERSONALITY AS OF YET. You would glare even more at your guests, but their eyes - if they have any - are hidden in the depths of the shadowed cowl they're wearing. Wearing clothes that starkly contrast with the surroundings of lush pink, he appears not to enjoy your taste in decor.

He is making you an offer that any sensible person would not even consider refusing - it's vital information on an enemy gang, one that has so far completely outfoxed you. In return he wishes for protection. The fact that a being as powerful as he would even wish for protection from a small time kingpin such as you might be... unlikely... escapes you completely.

[LinaLove]

K.Prawn: Inquire about the specifics concerning protection ==>

[ashdenej]

It's quite simple, according to the robed figure. In exchange for the information, all that he requires is a place to shelter from the inevitable fallout that will result from the Prawn's precision strike. It is with some distain that he imparts this to you, but you, having no head for the nuances of conversation whatsoever, fail to notice this. He loops around your chair to the private room behind it, to your dismay. You'd thought that that particular room was well hidden.

Waddling after him, you find him pouring over your secret plans to blow open a bank vault in a distant city. He chuckles, which fails to disconcert you, as you are - to put it finely - a moron.

[LinaLove]

K.Prawn: Ask him how he's privy to your secrets ==>

[enragedFingernail]

KP: Make him dead.

[ashdenej]

Whilst you stroke your walrus moustache, inquiring how he knew about the room, you casually reach behind your back for your stiletto. Wandering up next to him, as if to examine what he is looking at, you quickly thrust the thin knife into his stomach. ...Or you would do, if his body hadn't suddenly turned insubstantial. Snapping your chubby fingers, henchmen pour into the room, armed with clubs and state of the art spears.

Your visitor looks around, and chuckles, as if something he sees strikes him as amusing. The only funny thing in here tonight, you state, is his doom. How unusual, he answers for the exact opposite is about to happen. The flurry of club blows delivered to his body harm him no more than a passing breeze would - but then he murmurs a word, and disintegrates.

Cheering at your victory, you fail to notice the dust seeping through the walls of your opulent hideaway.

[enragedFingernail]

Word he muttered: Be broccoli.

[LinaLove]

Airship: Release a bomb over K.Prawn's hideout ==>

[ashdenej]

The word he whispered, echoing due to the strange dynamics of the room, sounds suspiciously like "broccoli". Your head snaps up, and you see the black particles coming from your walls - putting a finger to it, you realize it's coming from the very concrete that the building is constructed from. A thudding vibration surrounds you, putting your teeth on edge. You rush to the doorway and brace yourself as overhead a small package is delivered to the roof of your hideout from a blimp.

The explosion blows out all the windows within a mile radius.

[enragedFingernail]

Be the last surviving window. Mourn the loss of the fallen.

[LinaLove]

Reaper: Check for survivors, break out into a brief victory jig ==>

[ashdenej]

You are now the ORNATE STAINED GLASS WINDOW, that has gained partial sentience from centuries of existence. You withstood the recent blast just as you have managed to survive every other bomb, insurgent, or overenthusiastic churchgoer. You'll be damned if you get destroyed by a concussive blast.

At that moment, as you celebrate your continued endurance, you are blown into a thousand tiny pieces by the sudden appearance of a hooded figure in the space you previously occupied. You are now KING PRAWN again, having survived by crouching in a doorway in a reinforced bunker. Coughing, you shake off the white dust that had landed on your suit, and climb from the rubble into the weak sunlight from a new morning.

[enragedFingernail]

King Prawn: Kill the nearest living thing to release anger.

[ashdenej]

Your furious gaze falls upon a floating figure, in front of a church. He is doing a jaunty dance that makes you even more enraged. Your stiletto leaps to your hand once again, and you throw it, end over end, towards the unwary monster. You're quite surprised when it hits him between the shoulderblades, and even more surprised when he drops to the ground and staggers forward, ichor leaking from the wound. The surprise you feel continues mounting as the gaping hole in his back seals over.

Your surprise reaches its maximum point as a cage of utter blackness closes around you, dragging you into oblivion.

The KING is gone. Long live the KING.

[LinaLove]

Reaper: Hasten back to your own lair ==>

[ashdenej]

Coughing up a viscous substance, the Reaper gestures at his chest, sealing the wound. Having done so, he vanishes into an unseeable plain, leaving nought but a broken church and a dead man behind. Miles away, and minutes earlier - thanks to the unusual nature of subspace - he appears, exhausted, and ready to fall into a deep sleep.

Just before doing so, he radioes himself, who is on board a blimp a distance away. The other Reaper orders a bomb dropped over a location, and then proceeds to enter a flight deck on which his nemesis is standing. You consider informing him of this fact, but causality is paramount. As long as he doesn't know about something, however, it is allowed to be altered, a handy fact which the Reaper has exploited numerous times in his heists. It's like a mangling of the Uncertainty Principle.

This effort has further tired the Reaper, who falls away to dreamland.

[Namboto]

>Be the doctor

show spoiler

hide spoiler

also, as for changing the thread title, you have to edit the OP and change the title there

[LinaLove]

Proceed with the next step of the plan (if there's still stuff to do) ==>

[enragedFingernail]

Proceed with the next step of the plan (if there's still stuff to do) ==>

That.

[ashdenej]

You are now the DOCTOR, and you feel that you should CONTINUE YOUR PLAN to get the heck out of Dodge. Having snapped your fingers and disposed of the dizzy Maker, you unruffle your feathers, and take to the helm. Immersing yourself in the arcane ways of navigation, your bruised airship continues out of the city, only making a slight diversion to drop a small hydrogen bomb - made from excess fuel - onto a specified destination. Having done so, your plan nears completion, as all that remains to do is hijack the devastated Prawn's plan.

Nearby, a woozy Don stirs, and stares at the unmoving body of his henchwoman in the corner of his cell.

[LinaLove]

Doctor: Pilot in the direction of a wealthy city in order to rob its bank ==>