Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Reality [PG-13(language)]

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    Default Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Reality [PG-13(language)]

    Chapter 1

    “Yaaaawwwn....” Magnemite woke up slowly and groggily one day. He had had one of the strangest dreams the night before. The whole place was hazy and he could barely see somebody and hear them talking to him. The voice was loud but muffled, like a speaker run through a distortion pedal, the picture so grainy he couldn’t even make out the human’s gender. The voice sounded feminine, and the figure was dressed in white and green, wearing something red upon its chest. Its hair was long and green, its eyes colored hazel, and it seemed to be calling to him. This wasn’t a rare instance, though, especially not for him, so he shrugged it off, stretching his arms and bumping his head on a low shelf.

    At that point, he realized that something was extremely wrong. “Wait up! I have arms!? And a head!?” He looked himself over again and again. He desperately searched for a shiny object in which to see his reflection. But, in fact, as he would later admit, it was true, he was human, a teenager, to be exact. He was covered with dust, his black hair in an evident mess, his clothing bashed up quite thoroughly, wearing a beat-up shirt with cracks all over the logo and a pair blue jeans with a hole in the knee large enough to put an arm through. In fact, the only thing on him which wasn’t too destroyed-looking was the snow cap on his head, which was just about as dirty as the rest of him.

    “Mommy, there’s a hobo in the alley again.” a young child said in the distance, no doubt referring to him.

    “Don’t look, son, you’ll only get his attention.” his mother replied.

    “Hey,” Magnemite asked, “Do either of you know where I am?”

    The woman held her son close and ran off. Magnemite was just plain confused. Nobody at Pokémon square was ever this hostile. He asked around, trying to find out where he was with responses alternating expletives and accusations of drinking. Drinking what, he’d never know. He gave up and walked through the place time and time again. The streets were quite a sight, alarming to say the least. People in sunglasses the size of license plates wearing their pants as anklets, precious metals crammed into the least convenient places, vehicles with more smoke coming out of the windows than the exhaust pipes jumping up and down like they were fueled by caffeine and rattling like cell phones as they blared a series of low bass drones that shattered windows and set off alarms, and people on the streets, in a far worse state than him, asking one-word questions about the strangest things.

    “Change?”

    “Donations?”

    “Weed?”

    More than once, he had heard a loud bang, preceded by cries of “JUSTICE FOR OSCAR GRANT!!!” What was making the sound, he really didn’t want to know. So, he looked around, finding a good place to sit down. He found a small art gallery and sat at its stoop, as he figured it was a place that nobody was willing to approach. He figured he was safe here.

    The hours passed and passed, as did the people, all sorts, dressed in all the latest fashions, including a goth chick who gave him the finger for being a poser, even though he wasn’t posing for anything, a loud gang of foulmouthed children, carrying radios that Magnemite was surprised they could even lift, even a group of people in funny clothing who stumbled all over the place, eventually setting down the huge drums, horns, guitars, and much more that they had upon their heads and playing tunes. Soon, as day turned to night, others followed suit, carrying all sorts of things, from gigantic machines to whatever they just cooked. There were people all over the place, but the people he liked the most were the group with the drums. They were playing improvised tribal music, just like the kind of stuff he heard at Pokémon square. He felt right at home here, but he wouldn’t be here too long.

    Meanwhile, three teenagers were coming up the corner, arguing about something, as teenagers often do.

    “Are you sure you know where she knows where we’re going?”

    “She knows, right?”

    “Si j’savais pas, nous ne quitterions pas chez nous. J’sais bien ce que je fais.”

    “She knows where we are, or else we wouldn’t be here.”

    Magnemite looked on as three teenage kids turned the corner and approached the porch he sat on. A boy with hair that was bleached from red to blond, wearing a shirt with an army fatigue pattern and a pair of baggy pants stood side by side with a short, black-haired kid in schoolboy clothes and glasses. But one thing stood out more than ever. It was the girl who was leading them both.

    The first thing he noticed was her face. She was a pale girl with brown eyes and green hair that stopped at her shoulders, with bangs that covered her eyebrows. She wore a white short-sleeved shirt with a red heart hand-stitched on the front, with a green jacket over it. Even her gloves were green. She wore white denim pants, and a pair of green shoes. She took off her jacket, folding it over one arm. Magnemite could clearly see another heart stitched on the back of it. Was this the figure from his dreams?

    “That’s what we were here for?” the boy in the army gear asked.

    “Oui. J’ai cherché c’mec-ci.” the girl replied. She kneeled over and began talking to Magnemite. “Toi, tu es Magnéti, non?”

    Magnemite couldn’t understand the girl too well, but it was pretty clear she was asking for his name. “I’m sorry... you three have the wrong person.”

    “Alors, comment t’appelles-tu?”

    The schoolboy, after looking at Magnemite’s baffled face and waiting a little while, translated for Magnemite’s sake. “She just asked for your name.”

    “Oh.” replied the bashed-up, baffled boy. “It’s, um... Magnemite...”

    The girl turned to the two. “Oui, c’est lui.” She then returned to Magnemite. “Est-ce que tu peux aller avec nous?”

    The boy in the fatigues knew what she meant. “You’re coming with us.”

    “Uh... thanks. I mean, I got no place to go, I just woke up this morning, and pow, I’m a human in the bad part of an even worse city. Where am I, actually?”


    “JUSTICE FOR OSCAR GRANT!!!” *BANG*

    “Yep, we’re in Oakland, all right.” the school kid replied, after a long pause.

    “Where are the oaks?”

    “Well, there’s a canyon live oak in the town square, but other than that...”

    “Then why call it Oakland?”

    “I’ve always been curious of that as well.” said the boy in the fatigues. “I mean, I can think of a lot of other names for this town, but they’d all be bad for tourism.”

    “Maybe that’s why.” replied the schoolboy. “Anyway,” he continued. “We’re headed back to our place. You can come with.”

    “All right, then. Thanks, really. I’m really struggling to adjust here, and I could really use the help.”

    “Ne nous remercie pas.” replied the girl. “Il ne faut qu’arrêter de me zieuter et nous suivre.”

    “She says you’re welcome, but advises you quit staring at her and follow our lead.” the schoolboy translated.

    Magnemite turned bright red. Was he really staring? He stood up and followed their lead, going past the winos, the druggies, and the armed murderers. The girl who was their ringleader was incredibly protective, raising a fist to everything she perceived as a threat. And this was the ghetto, so everything that moved, even some things that didn’t, was a viable threat. Eventually, they finally made it to a large house. The schoolboy unlocked the place, unveiling that it was an apartment complex. They went up three flights of stairs. “The elevator doesn’t reach our place.” the kid in the fatigues explained. Why not was pretty evident when they scaled the fourth flight of stairs. Well, it wasn’t as much a flight of stairs as a ladder to a trapdoor. The schoolboy had to hand the keys to the kid in the fatigues, who hacked away at a deadbolt which in itself had been bolted in.

    “Grr... which one of these is the key!?”

    “It’s the longer one, Sarge, remember that.”

    “Oh.” replied Sarge. “Thanks, Edd.”

    “Any time.” Edd said in response. In a few seconds, Sarge had undone the lock and all four came in, Sarge first, Magnemite last. Turns out, the three lived in the attic. The place was incredibly dusty, with squares of linoleum here, portions of carpeting there, but besides that, the floor was bare, nothing but plywood, lots and lots of plywood. The rafters weren’t even covered up. It was evident that the contractor wanted it to be another apartment, but jettisoned it partway through. The three sat in the center of the apartment, the mysterious girl clearing a space for Magnemite.

    “Well, this is our place.” said Sarge. “It ain’t much, but we got what we need. We got light,” he said, signaling towards a big window, “we got electricity,” pointing out a single pair of outlets, one supplying power to a TV, another powering a hot plate, “we got water,” motioning towards a sink with the pipes still sticking out and some plates and glasses still in it, “we got a bathroom,” here referring to an area that was curtained off, “we got someplace to sleep,” directing attention to four cots, “And we got food.” he said, moving a hand towards the thick wall of Top Ramen that encompassed a portion of the place. “And we have each other, which, in all honesty, is all we need to stay sane.”

    The ringleader continued with a rather foul-mouthed response. “Oui, c’est un bled mal foutu, mais c’est notre bled mal foutu, et ça, c’est ce qui comte.” Edd decided not to translate that.

    “Anyway,” Sarge continued. “We all go by nicknames hear Call me Sarge. I’m the muscle of the team. He goes by Edd,” he said. Edd raised his hand. “He’s the brains of this outfit, and he speaks French. More than I do, that is, and that’s good, ‘cause our ringleader doesn’t speak English. She understands it, but can’t speak it. I tried studying under her for a while, but I never got more than the basics.”

    “Bonjour,” the ringleader spoke up. “Je m’apppelle Gardevoir. Je suis le caïd de ce bande.”

    Magnemite was taken aback. “That explains everything...” Gardevoir decided not to ask what he meant right that instant. “Hi,” he continued. “I’m Magnemite. I was a Pokémon originally, then, after having a series of odd dreams, I wound up here, as a human.”

    Sarge and Edd just bust out laughing, but Gardevoir seemed to understand. “Je te comprends. Je suis dans la même situation.”

    Edd spoke up, this time in French for privacy’s sake. “Attends. Il n’est pas fou?”

    “Aie du confiance en moi, Edd,” responded Gardevoir, “j’y ai été aussi long à identifier des lofoques. Tu penses qui je lui inviterais chez nous s’il était zinzin?”

    “You do have a point there.” replied Edd, reverting to English because French was no longer necessary. “Magnemite,” he continued, “your story is cleared. We believe you.” Magnemite breathed a sigh of relief. “Now, you should really get some rest, this must have been really eventful for you.”

    “Et il faut que tu te laves.” Gardevoir continued. “Je pouvais te piffer de trois mètres.”

    “On second thought,” replied Edd after hearing Gardevoir’s response. “You really should wash up. You’re practically covered in dust.”

    Edd was right. Magnemite was really dirty. He went over to the curtained section of the attic, which had a toilet, a sink, and a bathtub, which in itself was curtained off. He set the water on warm and took a bath, just to clear his head. The whole day had been such a blur to him, he could barely come up with a response to it. All he could do was try to shrug it off. He took a towel from a pile of four and toweled himself off, shaking the dust off all his clothing before getting dressed and going to bed. He fell right asleep, even in that raggedy old cot. He was just that exhausted.
    Last edited by J. S. Köttbulle; 23rd October 2009 at 06:18 PM.

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    Lighting Things on Fire Sarcastically Insane's Avatar
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    Default Re: Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Reality [PG-13(language)]

    WOW. That was awesome and realistic, plus kinda funny because of the reverse of Mystery Dungeon happening. I can't wait to see what happens... and maybe Magnemite will be given a realistic name. Is Edd a reference to Ed, Edd, and Eddie?
    Currently writing Hoenn Wars, a Travelsverse fic that needs no prior Travelsverse knowledge to understand. Chapter Seven, Sacrifice, is up.



    That's interesting; I might have a look when I have the time. Thanks!

    EDIT: Oh my god, these are too many links! Very specific...
    ^Someone's first impression of TVTropes.

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    Default Re: Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Reality [PG-13(language)]

    I do find that very interesting... A reverse of mystery dungeon. If they started making their own missions, I would laugh. It's a very different idea. I think I'll like this.

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    Default Re: Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Reality [PG-13(language)]

    not bad. not perfect by any means, but it was interesting to read.

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    Default Re: Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Reality [PG-13(language)]

    Quote Originally Posted by SilverSoul View Post
    Is Edd a reference to Ed, Edd, and Eddie?
    Yer spot on there, Silversoul.
    Fizzy Bubbles
    - Jovi's Lament - Fantastic Voyage!? - Mother And Child - Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers Of Reality -
    A person is not defined by their tastes, rather it is the other way 'round.

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    Default Re: Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Reality [PG-13(language)]

    Chapter II
    Additional Russian translation by Ghostly Kamina of Bulbagarden.

    Magnemite woke up rather groggily the next morning to see the other three doing their chores. Sarge was hard at work washing the windows, singing a tune under his breath.

    “♪Hitler had only one big ball,
    Görring had two, but they were small,
    Himmler was very similar,
    And Göbbels had no balls at all.
    Ba-da-da-da-da-da...♫”

    Edd was sweeping the floors, singing another tune.

    “♪Which side are you on, which side are you on...♫”

    All of a sudden, Magnemite heard the sound of a knob being twisted and water coming out of a tap.

    “♪Non, rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien,
    Ni le bien qu’on m’a fait, ni le mal, tout ça m’est bien égal...♫”

    Gardevoir could feel the hot water running down her arms and hands, almost too hot to bear. But she couldn’t turn it down. After all, it had to be just the right temperature for her to wash the dishes. Magnemite saw this trio hard at work and asked a question of them.

    “...Should I be doing something?”

    Gardevoir turned her head away from the sink. “T’inquiete pas. Y a pas bezef qu’il faut faire maintenant. Repose-toi, c’est pas tous les jours qu’un pokémon devient un homme.”

    “Just relax.” replied Edd. “Actually, wait up. Could please you go downstairs and see if we have mail?”

    “All right. Just don’t lock the door, okay?” he said, going down the ladder.

    “We won’t!” shouted Sarge, just before the trapdoor shut.

    Magnemite took the elevator to the first floor. It was an old elevator, so it never managed to line up just right with the door frame. It had two doors, a door outside and a metal gate which had to be opened by hand, and, as opposed to metal, like most elevators, it appeared to have been made predominantly out of finished wood. It took a few tries to leave, because unless it was lined up good enough, it wouldn’t open. He decided that he’d speak with Gardevoir over this after he got the mail. He walked up to the front door before realizing he had no keys. He didn’t need them. The mailboxes were in the lobby.

    But just before he could pick up the mail, the mailman came in. He was definitely an odd sort, well into his thirties, although he had light blue hair. He had a huge mailbag, which was bright yellow. Though what was more striking was this: He was wearing a sailor suit. He did this so the dogs didn’t think he was a mailman and get territorial. In another town, or even in the suburbs, this wouldn’t be a problem. But here, people took pride in raising vicious dogs, a guard dog that could skeletonize a human as a piranha skeletonizes a cow was a bigger status symbol then a three-foot penis, and just about as dangerous and unwieldly. It was after the Snowball incident that happened to him as a teenager that he increased his life insurance, and after the Princess incident, a month or so later he insisted on getting a route change. Not receiving this, he just gave up, only to be provoked by the Dante incident to give up and quit by the time he turned 20. At least, he would have, until he came up with an idea: stop looking so much like the enemy. So, he came to work, dressed like he was off to sea, and he came back without a medical bill. And, eventually, his insurance quit costing an arm and a leg or the eyes off his head. Surprisingly, the mail company allowed this. So, he always came to work dressed as a sailor.

    He was surprised to se the new kid, but the new kid was equally stunned to see a mail carrier dressed in such a garish fashion. He was a little unsure what to do, as much as he wanted, he couldn’t just say “Fresh off the boat?” So, for lack of a better idea, he decided to take the leap of faith and ask. That way, if he screwed up, at least the mailman wouldn’t know.

    “...Any mail for the top floor?”

    The mailman squinted at him and scratched his head. Magnemite was a little worried, after all, it looked quite obvious to him that he’d messed up. But after a long pause, the mailman finally spoke.

    “...Who the hell are you?”

    Magnemite was embarrased “Oh. Sorry, sir. Gardevoir sent me.”

    “Could I talk with her, then?”

    “All right.” said Magnemite, walking towards the elevator before giving it a second thought and running up the stairs. He climbed up the ladder and opened the trapdoor.

    “Mailman’s here.”

    With a squeaking noise, the rushing noise of the sink came to a halt. As the footsteps approached the ladder, Magnemite scrambled down and tried not to get kicked.

    “SUIS-MOI! TOUT DE SUITE! LES LETTRES SONT ARRIVÉES!” shouted Gardevoir, running down the stairs with a childish exuberance. Magnemite, remembering their previous conversation, realized that he should go down after her. The two stepped up to the mailman before Gardevoir spoke up.

    “Salut, Bekipan. J’suis desolée pour ce que Magnéti a fait.”

    “Il n’a rien fait, Gardevoir. Je ne l’ai pas reconnu, c’est tout. Qu’est qui s’est passé à M. Pennzoil-Head?”

    Magnemite was a little curious. Mr. Pennzoil-Head? But then he had another realization. Oh. That’s why there’s four of everything. He was brought back into reality by Gardevoir’s response.

    “C’est une histoire longue. T’as des lettres?”

    “Bien, j’ai quelque chose pour toi et les gars...” The old man held up a small cardboard box. Gardevoir examined the case and noticed the dimensions: about five inches long and five and a half inches wide. With a panicked expression on her face, she asked, no doubt alarmed:

    “D’où vient celà?!”

    The mail carrier, evidently confused, replied “Euh... de l’Australie.”

    Gardevoir was even more panicky than before.

    “C-c’est pas de nôtre! C’est des voisins!” said Gardevoir, after recalling an earlier incident in which the mailman had made a similar mistake. They wound up with a bunch of obscenely labeled CDs. After trying to play one, they were all scared into hiding behind the cots for an hour. Mortified, they went downstairs, trading in the CDs for what, to the neighbors, were some very confusing letters. They all agreed that it sounded like somebody using a broken subwoofer to torture a bear as punishment for swearing in public. “C’est le rez-de-chaussée, appartement quatre!” She said, pointing at the label which read Floor 1, apt. #4 “Nous sommes au troisième étage, appartement un!”

    The man dug through his bag to find a bundle of letters labeled Floor 4, apt. #1. He presented it to Gardevoir. “Les voilà. Je suis desolé pour cet erreur.”

    “C’est tout d’ac, Bekipan.” replied Gardevoir, stuffing the letters into her back pocket. “Ça pourrait être pire. Au revoir!”

    The mailman gave an army salute and continued stuffing the mailboxes. Why does she keep calling me that?

    Gardevoir took the elevator to the third floor, which stopped a full six inches above the entrance, leaving them unable to get out. “Putain.” she said, and with a sigh, she opened the gate. With one hand, she pulled on the lever which told the elevator the door was shut. With the other, she pressed the button for the second floor. Then she let go of the switch. The elevator slid down to the point where they could get out. After seeing this, Magnemite had decided that he didn’t have to ask how to do it himself.

    Gardevoir walked to the ladder. “Après de toi.” she said, signaling the way to their room. Magnemite didn’t know what she meant, but just to be chivalrous, he climbed up the ladder and went through the trapdoor, keeping it open for Gardevoir’s sake. “Merci.” said Gardevoir, climbing up the ladder and returning to the sink. She finished her last few dishes and turned on the TV, fiddling with the antennae and flipping the channel to a Chinese station. The other two, having finished their work, decided to watch. It was better than anything else on TV. Magnemite decided that this was as good a time as any to ask about Mr. Pennzoil-Head.

    “Hey, Gardevoir?”

    “Oui, Magnéti?”

    “I’ve noticed something. There’s three of you, but there’s four of everything. Why is that?”

    Gardevoir smiled and began laughing. “Ça, c’est une bonne histoire!” She regained her composition and continued talking. “Avant de toi, y avait un autre gars dans notre bande. Nous l’appelions ‘M. Pennzoil-Head.’”

    “Why did you call him that?”

    Gardevoir, in response, pinched her nose and said “D’accord, M. Pennzoil-Head, vous nous avez convainçus. Nous apparaîtrons dans votre film.”

    Edd, realizing that Magnemite had no clue what Gardevoir was talking about, decided to speak up. “A reference to an old show. One of the characters was a lunatic in the truest sense of the word. We named our guy that after him.”

    Gardevoir continued to speak after the explanation was given. “C’était une grande problème pour nous, car il nous faisait du mal beaucoup de temps. Nous avions un radio, mais il l'a pris un jour et il l’a jeté du toit d’immeuble. Il était plus fou qu’on peut décrire avec des mots, et nous trouvions pourquoi quand nous nettoyions l’appartement: Il a gardé trois kilos de l’héroïne sous son lit. Si les flics trouvaient la chnouf, ils nous tueraient. Alors, nous lui a demandé de foutre de camp, et il a pris ses drogues et a couru.”

    Magnemite, no matter how intently he was listening, understood absolutely nothing. Edd gave what in his opinion, was a clear, concise, and suitable translation:

    “Junkie.”

    “Oh. I get it now.” But I can’t help but ask, whatever happened to-“

    All of a sudden, the unmistakable sound of a 1980’s game show being mercilessly attacked by a roving band of pygmies filled the entire block.

    “...That would be him.” replied Sarge.

    “Il a rejoint un bande aussi marteau que lui.” replied Gardevoir.

    “I’d agree.” replied Edd. “Their leader, Harper, is definitely not of sound mind. About a month ago, she knocked on our door and poked her head right in. Heaven knows how she got through the front door. Anyway, she looked Gardevoir right in the eye and said ‘Britney-Anne needs to have an accident.’”

    Magnemite just sat there, baffled. Yes, it was in English, but he still didn’t understand.

    “She tried to place a hit out on a cartoon character.” explained Sarge.

    “...Oh.”

    “Once, some kid told her she was from a hick town.” continued Edd. “She walked right up to the kid, stared him in the face and said, without skipping a beat...”

    Smiles crossed Sarge and Edd’s faces. Sarge counted down from three...

    “Boy, you look just like a hog!” they hollered, both in their best southern drawls. They bust out laughing, and Gardevoir couldn’t help but join them.

    “You could hear him scream,” said Sarge, between bouts of laughter, “from the other end of town.”

    “J’suis desolée,” hollered Gardevoir, struggling once more to regain her composition. “T’as dû le voir!” She continued laughing, then let out a high-pitched squeal.

    Magnemite couldn’t help but blush. He didn’t know what any of that meant, but he knew just enough to wish he didn’t. Desperate for a change of topic, he asked the first thing that came to mind.

    “Where does the team live?”

    “Old gas station.” replied Sarge. “I don’t know why they haven’t left, the cops busted them three times so far for squatting.”

    Magnemite, unfamiliar with the concept, decided to ask what Sarge meant. Edd was going to reply, but it was Gardevoir who spoke up first.

    “Euh... Magnéti, tu te souviens d’une vielle centrale électrique?

    “Are you familiar with any old power plants?” said Edd, relishing at his chance to speak.

    Magnemite thought long and hard. “...Sounds familiar...”

    “Bien. Ici, la droit ne nous permet pas de vivre dans les endroits abandonnés.”

    Magnemite thought it over... He was pretty sure he knew what she meant, but held his tongue for fear of appearing foolish. Much to his surprise, It was Sarge who stepped up as his savior.

    “You can’t legally inhabit old buildings here.” he translated, before continuing where Gardevoir left off. “It’s called squatting, and people who do it usually don’t wanna pay taxes. The cops don’t like people who don’t pay taxes. They really hate ‘em in this town.” He signaled towards a cop who was desperately staring at a parking meter.

    “Come on, come on, just five more minutes...”

    A young lady, coffee in one hand, keys in the other, got into the car and drove away.

    “GODDAMN IT!!!” shouted the policeman, in a state of complete and total rage, that is, until another potential traffic violation caught his attention. “Come on, come on, just five more minutes...”

    “On peut voir pourquoi nous ne conduisons pas.” replied Gardevoir, illustrating the point by taking off a shoe and showing Magnemite the sole. It was worn nearly to the insole.

    “We travel a lot in our line of work.” replied Sarge. “Which reminds me: we’re supposed to stop by the plaza soon, right?”

    “Oui, c’est vrai. Ne prenons pas de lettres, nous nous souvenons de ce qui s’est passé la dernière fois, nest-ce pas?”

    “Yes, we remember.” replied Edd, turning off the television and making sure to shut off the signal converter as well.

    Magnemite locked the door as the other three climbed down the ladder. The group took the elevator downstairs, with limited success, and finally managed to get out through the lobby. They had barely touched foot to pavement when a trio of loonies approached them. There was a boy wearing all the hottest trends that the 1980s had to offer. He had bell bottoms, army boots, a reflective disco ball vest, a sweater with an enormous varsity letter sewn on the front, and the pièce de résistance: a hairdo fit to grease a pan.

    To this boy’s right stood another kid, all in black except for a hooded jacket, which was dark purple. His spike-covered hair was the same color as his jacket. His skin was an unhealthy pale, even paler than Garvevoir’s. His piercing green eyes were currently hard at work trying to stare a hole through the sturdy, unmoving Gardevoir.

    “Hey, which one’s Mr. Pennzoil-head?” whispered Magnemite.

    “The one with the hood.” replied Sarge.

    Magnemite then turned his attention to the team’s leader. She had brown hair, brown eyes, and the bright, happy smile of a recent mental ward escapee. Her hair was in pigtails, that is, what Magnemite could see under the gigantic hat the girl had on her head. She was wearing a red and black shirt. Over this, she had a pair of overalls that covered less than half her thighs. She was wearing a pair of tennis shoes with knee socks that was about five inches away from covering what the overalls didn’t. All in all, her fashion sense could be best described as Pippi Longstocking Goes To The Ball Game.

    “Harper?” Magnemite whispered again. Gardevoir just looked straight ahead and nodded.

    Harper’s look suddenly turned serious, her deranged smile into a look of concentration.

    “So, Gardevoir...” Gardevoir narrowed her eyes. “...I see you’ve found another fourth member. What does this one have that your last one didn’t?” he said, signaling to Mr. Pennzoil-Head.

    “A clear head, for one.” snarked Edd, remembering all the horrors this boy had imposed upon him and his friends.

    “What are you suggesting?” said an indignant Mr. Pennzoil-Head. “I am perfectly capable of coherent thought-“ Suddenly, his cold and piercing eyes became bloodshot and buggy, his contemptuous frown, an enormous grin. “Hello, nice la-dy with the green hair!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Who is the new kid, the kid who looks fresh off the stree-eet!?” He ran up to Magnemite and pinched his cheek.

    “Uh... Magnemite, Mr. uhh... Pennzoil-Head?”

    “Congratulations! Welcome to the team! Good luck surviving Gardevoir!” he hollered, shaking Magnemite’s entire arm like a gigantic limp noodle before twirling ballerina-style and skipping back to his team. He blinked once—and switched personas once more. “Anyway, I am not foggy-headed!” Just ask, uhh...” he said to the boy who looked fit for the disco, the ghetto, and high school at the same time.

    “Monkey Man.” the 1980’s conglomerate responded, in an accent that was equal parts English and Jamaican.

    “Yeah! Whatever his name is! You! I can think straight, right?”

    “Uh... yeah, I think.” replied an utterly confused Monkey Man, shortly before striking a pose somewhere between early Michael Jackson and late Elvis Presley.

    Gardevoir promptly turned on her heels. “Ne leur parlons plus. Nous avons assez de problèmes sans parler à cette Parade de l’Absurde.” She sighed audibly and walked off. “Suivez-moi, il faut prendre un autre route.”

    Normally, to go to the plaza, Gardevoir and company would go past the gas station, turn at the giant condos, and keep going straight until they reached the hotel, turning one more time into Chinatown, and the plaza would be just a block away. But this time, she did not want to deal with these folks, so she turned the other way, making a turn at the little church, (the big one still gave her the willies) through the crowds of disgruntled homeless people engaged in rounds of Count Pointercount and past the foreign storefronts, turning again at Al’s House of Meat (which, despite the opinion of certain ad executives, still made absolutely no sense when played backwards) and past the jail that looked straight out of a comic book, turning once more at the Chinese restaurant and disco, and eventually, they reached the plaza, with surprisingly few muggings this time.

    The plaza in question was in the Chinatown district, so many of the signs were incomprehensible. However, Gardevoir knew this place like the back of her hand. Not surprisingly, there were droves of others as well, in groups of two, three, or, in some cases, four, discussing group activities, buying food from the stores, reading the nearby bulletin, or stopping by the bank. Gardevoir took a look at the bulletin board herself.

    “Voyons... gars tombé dan le lac, quelqu’un à escorter, on a besoin d’un Ramuné...” She retraced the list, having skipped past a desirable mission. “Gars tombé dans le lac. C’est simple, alors, nous pouvons entrainer notre nouveau copain.” She took the thumbtack off the board and picked up the paper. “Hé, Sarge! Edd! Magnéti!”

    The others, who were then staring into the giant fountain, turned to face Gardevoir.

    “J’ai trouvé un job pour nous!”

    “Let me guess,” replied Edd. “another kid stuck in the lake?”

    “Pense ce que tu veux, nous serons payés.”

    “How many folks have we pulled out of that thing already?” asked Sarge.

    “Vingt. Et ils continuent d’y tomber.”

    Edd put a hand to his forehead.

    “Regarde, Edd, c’est un mission simple, alors, Magnéti peut nous aider.”

    Magnemite finally decided to speak. “Uh... Gardevoir? Is there something I... need to know about?”

    Merde! Edd, est-ce que tu peux lui expliquer?”

    Edd’s eyes widened. “You heard her, Sarge, tell him!”

    At this point, Sarge would normally try to argue, but he ultimately decided that if he didn’t say it, Magnemite would never know.

    “Magnemite... are you one to shoot the messenger?”

    “No, what’s up?”

    Sarge, no doubt nervous, continued. “We’re a team of rescuers. We work for hire, and that’s how we pay all our bills. If you wanna stay with us, you’re gonna have to work.” said Sarge, preparing, along with his friends, for the worst that could happen...

    “Okay.” said Magnemite.

    The group as a whole finally relaxed.

    “Don’t worry.” said Edd, much bolder for the fact that he still had his teeth. “Gardevoir wants to start you off easy. We’ve got a good mission you can help us with.”

    “What would that be?”

    “Some kid fell into the lake again.” asked Sarge. “We’re gonna try and get him out.”

    Magnemite’s eyes widened. “...Does this happen a lot?”

    “Yep.” said Edd. “Now let’s go, the route to the lake’s going to be tough.”

    “All right.” Magnemite stood up and joined the group.

    “D’accord,” replied Gardevoir, “nous avons un nouveau member. Suivez-moi, tout le monde!”

    Gardevoir lead them through the Chinatown district, past the park with the giant boat where the younger rescue teams met up. Magnemite noticed a boy about his age playing among them.

    The trip continued, past all the furniture shops, in front of the post office, across the grounds of the library, and to the edge of the lake.

    This lake was large, Magnemite guessed it was a mile or two around. The city appeared to have been centered around it. Magnemite wondered why anyone would build a town around something that smelly. He examined the depth, he could see to the bottom, and figured that it would be safe to jump in. But just as he was about to take a dive, Gardevoir grabbed him and pinned him to the ground.

    “Hey, what did you do that-“

    A giant tentacle reached out of the lake, ensnaring a flock of mallards and an airborne pelican. The lake bubbled as though a fire were lit under it, finally subsiding after ten seconds straight. A few seconds later, the water emitted a loud, earthshaking belch.

    “...For...”

    “S’il faut nager,” said Gardevoir, standing up and dusting herself off, “y a une piscine pas loin d’ici.” She grabbed Magnemite by the wrists and pulled him onto his feet.

    Magnemite was still amazed by what came out of the lake. He just stood there, rooted to the spot, incapable of motion.
    “That’s why we’re renting a boat.” replied Edd. “C’mon, big guy, we’ve got a job to do.” He said, tugging Magnemite’s sleeve. “Umm.. Magnemite?”

    “I... was about... to swim in that...”

    “C’est d’accord, Magnéti, t’as pas su...” But not even the reassuring words of the team leader did anything to help. “*sigh* Sarge, Edd, il faut que vous le transportiez au dock.”

    “All right.” replied Sarge, who had heard this so much that he eventually found out what this meant. He turned Magnemite away from him, hooking his arms with Magnemite’s. “All right, Edd, on three, I’m going to lift him up, you grab hold of his ankles. Understand?”

    “Got it.” replied Edd.

    “Okay. One, two, three-“

    “Wait up! What are you doing!?” shouted Magnemite as Sarge hoisted him up in midair. “What’s happening!? Where are you taking me!?” he shouted, as Edd grabbed his ankles. “Help! Somebody! Put me down! HELP!”

    “Il ne faut plus le transporter, il peut penser encore. Mettez l’à terre.”

    Edd let go of his legs, letting his feet touch the ground so he could let go of Sarge.

    From there, the four walked down the road and through the woods, with little in the way of mishaps. When they reached the dock, Sarge took out the money and spoke to the clerk over a rental.

    “Pardon me, sir, I’d like to rent a canoe for all four of us-“ Sarge was stopped abruptly when Magnemite whispered something in his ear.

    “...and... an extra oar.” he continued, in a state of confusion.

    The clerk, while neither aware nor afraid of anything that may come out of that lake, shrugged his shoulders as he handed out all the materials, even an extra paddle for Magnemite. The gang picked out a good canoe, nice and strong to calm Magnemite’s fear of being eaten. They shoved off for the kid in the lake, Magnemite standing tall and holding his oar like a baseball bat. He stood watch, preparing for whatever may come...

    The cephalopod looked up from its post in the water. It had just had a refreshing meal of whole pelican and a flock of mallards. But it wanted more. It studied the surface and noticed the silhouette of what appeared to be a giant seal.

    Seal... That doesn’t come by often... Mine!

    But as the being reached a tentacle out and touched its prey, it all of a sudden felt a sharp pain, as if somebody was repeatedly hitting its tentacle with a wooden paddle.

    “Get off!” *WHAP* “Get off the boat!” *WHAP* “You are NOT!” *WHAP* “Going!” *WHAP* “To eat us!” *WHAP* “Today!” Magnemite was hard at work trying to beat the tentacle off of their boat. Gardevoir, who up to this point had steered, saw what Magnemite was doing.

    “Donne-le-moi. Je te montrerai comment c’est fait.”

    The pain in the cephalopod’s tentacle became sharper, came more often, got less and less bearable, to the point where he couldn’t take it any more.

    AAGH! OUCH! JESUS! LET GO! STOP HITTING! NO MAS! OUCH! OW! EGAD! QUIT FIGHTING! AAAAAAGH!

    “Et c’est comment on le fait.” said Gardevoir, as the twitching, swollen tentacle receded into the lake.

    The cephalopod examined its throbbing appendage. The limb had grown to roughly the size of a motorcycle, with driver. It’s not worth it...

    The team were able to steer the boat with little trouble, and Magnemite was kept on guard duty. He was instructed to look out for a boy in the lake. He kept on the lookout... until something caught his eye. A large number of seagulls were converging around one spot. Around this location, Magnemite could swear that he heard someone screaming. He soon realized: Their objective was to save whoever it was that was screaming. “This way!” he shouted, pointing to the giant, squawking mass which had coalesced above the lake.

    As the boat approached the seagulls, Magnemite picked up his oar. Gardevoir left Edd to steer so that she could examine Magnemite’s technique.

    Magnemite swung furiously but aimlessly into the flock of crazed seabirds, knocking some into the lake, but ultimately having no effect. Gardevoir shook her head. “*sigh* C’est pas la propre méthode. Donne-le-moi.” She held out her hand and Magnemite gave her the oar. She let out a loud yell and gave a well-aimed smack at one of the seagulls, flinging it at a jogger’s head. Another shout, another swing, and a seagull was thrown into a tree. Gardevoir handed Magnemite the oar. “Et maintenant, c’est à ton tour.” Magnemite let out a loud roar and smacked one seagull hard, flinging it into three others. On his second attempt, he hit two in one, He continued along this path, as loud and hard as he could, until whatever seagulls were still conscious got the point and finally fled. Gardevoir clapped her hands in response and took the oar. She saw person they were to help, so, she stretched out the oar. The boy grabbed the wide end and used it to scramble on board.

    The canoe tilted a little as the boy rolled onto it, but they kept it from tilting by standing on the other end of the boat. At first glance, it seemed like their mission was over. But there was still one last obstacle left to throw a wrench in their works.

    The cephalopod looked at the surface. It was very angry that the cloud of seagulls had disappeared from the lake.
    In the produce section of any store,
    Grapes of all kinds are sold in plastic bags.
    Often, the grapes are cut from the same vine.
    Thus, one often prefers to eat the grapes
    By plucking them from the vines one by one.
    In this light the lake’s beast saw the seabirds,
    And, to the thing, they both tasted the same.
    The cephalopod noticed that the cloud of gulls had vanished once the violent seal approached it. At once, it presumed that the seal had eaten it. Greedy seal... That’s my snack! Then, as it was stewing, an idea popped into its ire-riddled brain; Revenge!

    While smooth sailing appeared to await the team, cargo and all, such was stopped all of a sudden when an enormous tentacle reached from the lake once more.

    “Encore!?”said Gardevoir with a sigh. “Il n’apprend jamais. Edd?” Edd handed one oar to Gardevoir and another to their new passenger.

    Then, having given out all the oars, he began banging on his seat. “STRIKE!” Sarge and Gardevoir hit the tentacle as one. “STRIKE!” Soon Magnimite joined the fight. “STRIKE!” The boy, uncertain, took the oar and hit it himself.

    “STRIKE!” *WHAP* “STRIKE!” *WHAP* “STRIKE!” *WHAP* “STRIKE!” *WHAP*

    The cephalopod had forgotten that the violent seal was... well, violent. It was now hitting the cephalopod’s tentacle with much force, over and over again. The pain was becoming unbearable, all the worse for the fact that it showed no signs of relenting.

    “STRIKE!” *WHAP* “STRIKE!” *WHAP* “STRIKE!” *WHAP* “STRIKE!” *WHAP* “Drum roll, please!” On Edd’s command, they mercilessly hammered the tentacle as fast as they could before all hitting the appendage at once. The tentacle slowly receded into the lake.

    The cephalopod examined its tentacle. This one was large enough to establish a small nation upon.

    Maybe I should have just let it have the seagulls...

    Sailing was smooth again for the rest of the trip, and the team moored quite successfully. They roped the boat to the dock and climbed out one by one, with Gardevoir helping the soggy young lad out of the boat.

    The boy wrung out his jacket, which held enough water to boil several pots of noodles. Sarge returned all the oars, even the fifth one.

    “Swamp thing again?” asked the clerk.

    “You have no idea.” he said before rejoining his team.

    “Hey, where should we drop you off?” asked Edd.

    The boy just stared at him.

    “Um, we’re just gonna drop you off at the plaza, okay?”

    The boy scratched his head and said something that only Gardevoir could understand. “Я говорю только по-русски.”

    “Il ne parle que Russe.” said Gardevoir.

    Edd put a hand to his forehead. “That’s why. He doesn’t understand us. He’s Russian.”

    “TAKE HIM!” shouted Sarge, ducking behind Magnemite.

    “Он всегда так поступать?” asked the boy, looking up at Gardevoir, who, in response, mercilessly glared at Sarge.

    “Ne te cache pas, il est pas un communiste.”

    “But, but...” replied Edd

    Gardevoir sighed. “C’est pire que cette fois qu’on a aide cette fille Allemande. Lève-toi, ou je vais te poinçonner.”

    Sarge sighed and quit hiding. He didn’t understand much, but he knew that Gardevoir had just made a threat. And from past events, he had come to learn that Gardevoir always stayed true to her threats. He stood up and bowed. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. Listen, we’ll take you to the plaza.” He stretched out his hand. “What do you say to that?”

    The boy promptly took Gardevoir’s hand.

    “...I take that as a no.”

    The boy gave Sarge a glare that could burn through an inch of steel before turning up his nose. “Янки!”

    The boy seemed genuinely happy to be side by side with a rescue team leader, and a really pretty one to boot. Gardevoir lead the way, making sure the boy made it safely to the plaza, taking the safe route whenever it was possible and pretending not to speak English whenever it wasn’t. It took a little longer to get there, but it was worth it to keep the foreigner safe. The team walked through the plaza, looking for somebody who might have posted the rescue mission. The boy looked around as well, and, ultimately, it was he who found their recruiter. “Мама!” The boy ran up to a heavy-set woman clad in gypsy garb and gave her a big hug. “Мама, Я так рад, что нашел вас.”

    “Я тоже,” said the woman, “Но как ты сюда попал?”

    “Эта девушка.” said the boy, pointing to Gardevoir. “Она и ее друзья помогли мне.”

    “You four!” shouted the woman, frightening everybody but Gardevoir. “I am very grateful that you have taken my son away from water. I was worried that thing from lake was eating him already.”

    “...You knew that something was in there!?” asked Edd.

    “It said right there in travel brochure, ‘Witness creature from deep.’” the woman said, pointing to some Cyrillic text which captioned an image of an enormous tentacle emerging from the lake.

    The four stared at each other with looks of amazement.

    “Anyway, I thank you all for the safety of my youth.” She shook all four team members’ hands and gave Gardevoir a kiss on each cheek before handing out the money, a check for about $2,000.

    “De rien.” said Gardevior, stuffing the check in her wallet. “C’est ce que nous faisons.”

    The team were about to just about to leave when the woman shouted something. “Wait! Do not leave. I possess something for you.” She took out a large box of chocolates. “From the motherland.”

    “Thank you very much.” replied Sarge.

    But before they could leave the second time, the boy had something to say to Gardevoir. He struggled to find the words, but eventually, he came up with what he wanted to say. “M-merci... beaucoup, ....Madame.”

    Gardevoir, moved by the boy’s words, made an attempt of her own. “Добро.... пожаловать, ...сэр.”

    The Russian boy looked straight at her, nodded, and smiled.

    When the four returned home, Gardevoir made sure the chocolates were placed where they would not melt while the others just plain collapsed. They fell asleep easily, tired, but accomplished.
    Last edited by J. S. Köttbulle; 1st February 2010 at 11:54 PM.

  7. #7
    How do I used tense? SSJ3_Raditz's Avatar
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    Default Re: Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Reality [PG-13(language)]

    This story is so big, I can barely understand the plot. But I do like how there are multiple languages in it.

  8. #8
    Endless. Endless. J. S. Köttbulle's Avatar
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    Default Re: Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Reality [PG-13(language)]

    I'm pretty sure that following chapters will be shorter (and more coherent) now that I've introduced most of the key concepts and all the key characters.
    I'm also pretty sure that the Russian text was poorly translated. If I screwed up, please let me know.
    Fizzy Bubbles
    - Jovi's Lament - Fantastic Voyage!? - Mother And Child - Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers Of Reality -
    A person is not defined by their tastes, rather it is the other way 'round.

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    Registered User woops's Avatar
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    Default Re: Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Reality [PG-13(language)]

    I was looking forward to this. Really glad it was updated.
    Also, the sea monster thing made me laugh probably the most out of anything so far.

  10. #10
    Lighting Things on Fire Sarcastically Insane's Avatar
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    Default Re: Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Reality [PG-13(language)]

    ...violent seal is violent.

    *shot*
    Currently writing Hoenn Wars, a Travelsverse fic that needs no prior Travelsverse knowledge to understand. Chapter Seven, Sacrifice, is up.



    That's interesting; I might have a look when I have the time. Thanks!

    EDIT: Oh my god, these are too many links! Very specific...
    ^Someone's first impression of TVTropes.

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    Registered User Ghostly Kamina's Avatar
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    Default Re: Teenager Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Reality [PG-13(language)]

    The boy scratched his head and said something that only Gardevoir could understand. “Я только говорю русский.”
    "Я говорю только по-русски" will be right.
    Brothers will fight
    and kill each other,
    sisters' children
    will defile kinship.
    It is harsh in the world,
    whoredom rife
    —an axe age, a sword age
    —shields are riven—
    a wind age, a wolf age—
    before the world goes headlong.
    No man will have
    mercy on anothe

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