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Chapter 3: Business As Usual"Where's low business like 'fro business, there's 'fro business like dough..." mumbled the Hunter, half on-key, half sounding-like-he-was-speaking-through-a-bucket. He'd just tried for the third time to get docking clearance and/or landing clearance pertaining to the disco-ball-esque planet 70. Literally, its name is '70' and it's shaped like a disco ball. thus the 'disco-ball-esque' bit. Sure. I can invent new adjectives when the need presents itself....well, maybe 'disco-ball-like' or something would be better, but then I couldn't have wasted more bits of odd data telling you about all this, could I?" "Maybe they heard us coming." replied DamnGlitch, feet up, flipping through the different public broadcast stations that were the only thing the Hunter's audio reciever could pick up for some reason. He was currently hoping to find something besides the newest stellar classical hit, Franz Sherman's Concierto ala King in D Minor. It was a fruitless task, but so was attempting to obtain docking clearance to the planet that was simply one gigantic 24/7 disco with DJs and speakers interspersed. There was one landing bay on the entire planet, which was hardly ever used, mainly because the inhabitants of planet 70 partied their whole lives away and never went to work--the one open postition being the docking bay controller because whoever it had been that used to have that job, a thousand years ago, when this whole thing had started had simply never come into work. Occassionally, a disco DJ job would be open, when the current occupant of that position died of old age or finally went blind due to spending too much time on a disco ball. However, since the DJs in themselves were the life of the planet, they usually trained their offspring to take over for them when they die. Then, miraculously, DamnGlitch found a public access documentary on some long-forgotten channel; Disco DJs: The Endless Monarchy Still Doesn't End. Interested, he listened for a moment. "Stupid public access."
"Stupid public access." said Number 18, flying Dark Lurking Guy back to the relatively disreputable vicinity of Narquon VII, while also attempting to avoid yet another repetition of Franz Sherman's semi-loathed Concierto. He, too, had been flipping through the channels and had stumbled upon the disco documentary. "Wait, Number 18... what did that documantary say about subjugating people with music?" came the voice of Dark Lurking Guy from the back of the shuttle. "Just that it was possible, to some extent." replied the ever-confused Number 18. "Why do you ask, anyway?" "Because... it's a brilliant plan." "Well, I don't know... your last plan to get free fuel was good... I don't see why we don't just try it again. that particular ship landing in that particular docking bay was just a random freak accident." "Actually, Number 18, it wasn't. You see, the 'good guys' will always thwart our plans whenever they get the chance. therefore, we need to stay one step ahead of them by moving on to our next plan before they realize that we're not going to try the same one again and will instead follow a perfectly logical course to our next caper." "Uh..." "Is that confusing, Number 18?" "Y... yeah... but what isn't?" "Not enough, I'm afraid. Oh, well, I'll just go over it all again." replied Dark Lurking guy to Number 18's query. A groan came from the front of the spacecraft as Dark Lurking Guy rewound, followed by the unmistakable sound of Number 18 beating himself over the head with a belaying pin that had somehow found its way into the cockpit. "Stupid public access." said the voice of Number 18, tinny as ever on Dark Lurking Guy's portable recorder. Wait, Number 18... what did that documentary say about subjugating people with music?" interjected Dark Lurking Guy's voice. "Just that it was possible, to some..."
Having given up on obtaining permission to land from nobody in particular not crewing his station as the docking bay controller, the Hunter brought the ship down in Landing Bay 7 on the nighstide of the planet. Since there's only one actual docking bay on 70, this meant that the Hunter set the ship down relatively near to at least one disco party. Now, while the 'nightside' of a planet usually alternates, the disco ball of a planet that they were now on happened to rotate at exactly the right spped to always have one side--the same side, that is--facing its sun. While this was an amazing feat of nature (or those scientists who could only get off work to go to the disco at night back in the old days, when the party still ended once in a while--naturally, if it always remained night, they'd never have to go to work in the morning again), it didn't really matter to the Hunter. Neither did anything at this point, really, as he didn't even know why he'd come here. "Let's party!" said DamnGlitch happily, bounding down the ramp when it was only halfway open. "You coming?" "Yeah... I've just got one of those gut feelings that there's an impending invasion of wherever we are." replied the Hunter, eying the night sky (as he was not yet accustomed to staring into the universe's largest disco ball). "That aside, let's go, dude!" "Rock on!" called DamnGlitch, running out into the midst of where there was not yet a party. "Rock off!" said the Hunter in response, clapping his hands. Suddenly, as if due to that action, a clapper somewhere got set off and the disco ball began to throw shafts of light everywhere and a party started up right where the intrepid DamnGlitch was currently standing with his usually less-then-sane cohort. Large drums of Josta appeared from nowhere, and the newly congealed lump of humanity (with a few other races sprinkled throughout) proceeded to disco the night away.
Back aboard Dark Lurking Guy's private shuttle, Dark Lurking Guy did his best to brood as Number 18 flew them in the general direction of the planet 70. The Dark Lord of the Silt paced back and forth in the dim light thrown into the rear passenger compartment through the access hatch to the cockpit. Well, due to budget cuts, it was little more than a nice-looking doorframe, as there wasn't actually a hatch, door, or even curtain, but anyway, it threw light into the back compartment where Dark Lurking Guy paced. That was up until the point when Number 18 nearly blinded him by turning on the lights. "Sir?" asked Number 18. "Number 18! You dunderhead! Shut off that light!" boomed Dark Lurking Guy, rubbing at the eye sockets of his ridiculous-looking mask. "Sir? The lights were off." "Yes, I know that! Turn them back off! Can't you see that I'm trying to brood in secrecy here?" "Sorry, sir, I didn't know that... you should really hang a sign on the door." "What door?" "Um... I'm not quite sure how to answer that, as there isn't a door." "Exactly! I am your leader, and I shall brood when and where I please!" "Yes, sir." replied Number 18, turning the light off once more. "Now, what did you want?" "Well, sir, we've arrived at the planet 70. I thought you might like to know that." "Yes, I would." "Okay. We've arrived at the planet 70, sir." "Aargh! I already knew that, you simpleton!" "Hold on, I'm on my way out there to the cockpit... you go ahead, I'll be there in a minute." said Dark Lurking Guy as he tripped over every piece of furniture in the room trying to find his way out. "Very well, sir."
Three hours later, immediately following Dark Lurking Guy's painstakingly slow trip out of the darkened room he wouldn't let Number 18 turn the lights on in, even to help him get out, Dark Lukring Guy and Number 18 stepped off the boarding platform of their shuttle and onto the planet where a gigantic party was clustered around a beaten old YT-1300 freighter that looked slightly more than oddly familiar to the duo. "No! They've beaten me here! I don't believe it! This is your fault, Number 18! Get out of my sight! You're fired!" cried Dark Lurking Guy in disgust. "Who? What? Why... I didn't do it!" replied Number 18, confused. "Whoever they are! The people responsible for our failure on Camp Grenada!" "I told you that they wouldn't try to stop us where we'd alredy struck!" "Nonsense! No matter where we go, they'll be there to muck it all up!" "Which ones are they, anyway?" "Uh... I'm not quite sure... wait! That one in the middle in the Hawaiian shirt! That's the one that stepped off the gangplank right before the whole Camp Grenadan incident. And that guy with the purple hair... get them both! Forward, my hearties! Attack!" yelled Dark Lukring Guy, pointing at the Hunter amidst the mass of people. Unfortunately, as he and Number 18 were the only SSOSS members there, as well as the fact that he'd just fired Number 18, nobody charged. "Uh, sir, I'm the only one here, remember?" asked Number 18 after Dark Lurking Guy sat there, pointing into the group for a solid five minutes. "Oh, my, you're correct, Number 18." replied Dark Lurking Guy. "Attack!" "Um... I'm not a combat operative, sir. I don't even have a sidearm." "Then what exactly do you do for the SSOSS?" "Well, since you fired me, nothing, but I was your shuttle pilot and gopher." "I knew that. Charge!" "Oh, fine." said Number 18 finally, slipping his way in between the mulling people toward the center of the group, where the Hunter was somehow managing to do the Worm without spilling either of the two unneccessarily large cups of whatever he was drinking.
Deep in the center of the disco party, DamnGlitch watched as the Hunter breakdanced to end all breakdances, all without spilling his drinks. Suddenly, a man wearing a hat with a gigantic gilded number 18 emblazoned on it tapped him on the shoulder. "What?" asked DamnGlitch. "Can you two come with me?" asked Number 18. "You seem to know the Dancing Machine here..." "You have no idea." "Huh?" "Continue." "Oh. Well, Dark Lurking Guy wants to talk to him." he continued, pointing to the tubby, black-clad figure attempting to brood while bathed fully in the light of the gigantic disco ball he was standing on. "Okay. Hey, Hunter! Somebody wants to talk to you!" "What? Hey, more people! Nice hat!" said the Hunter, eyeing Number 18. "Family crest?" "No, it's my name." "You mean your number. Your name is something else." "I forgot my name, so 18 may as well be it." "Oh. All right, then."
"Ah, Number 18, you've returned with your quarry. How did you manage to subjugate them without so much as a sidearm?" asked Dark Lurking Guy as Number 18 approached alongside the Hunter and DamnGlitch. "I asked them to come over here." replied Number 18. "Well... er... hmm... why didn't I think of that?" "Because you're an 'uncreative, moronic SSOSS member?'" interjected Number 18, quoting Dark Lurking Guy's comment from an earlier episode. "Oh, of course... wait! You're the uncreative..." "No, I'm not... you fired me! Hah!" "Oh, I forgot that." "You also forgot your name." "No, I didn't! It's Jip Kipper! I'm Jip... oh, dear." "Listen, what did you want?" asked DamnGlitch, eyeing the Hunter as his buddy was balancing one drink on his forehead while throwing the contents of the other into the air and catching it in his mouth. "Oh, yes. You see, my good man, I don't remember you, but your friend here has fouled up my operations. You see, I tried to take over the Bob system, so that I could... oh, where did I put that... oh, here it is. I recorded an earlier conversation on the same subject on my tape recorder... perhaps that will explain it." replied Dark Lurking Guy, searching through his utility belt until he found his trusted tape recorder. "Oh, dear." said Number 18. "Is he always like this?" asked DamnGlitch. "Usually." replied Number 18. Then, realizing the Hunter was now speaking with three seabirds by handing them fish and staring blankly at them, he asked his own question. "Is he always like that?" "No, he talks to penguins the same way, though that's a different dialect." "Oh." "...what did that documantary say about subjugating people with music?" came the voice of Dark Lurking Guy from the tape recorder. "Just that it was possible, to some extent." replied the ever-confused voice of Number 18. "Why do you ask, anyway?" "Because... it's a brilliant plan." "Well, I don't know... your last plan to get free fuel was good... I don't see why we don't just try it again. that particular ship landing in that particular docking bay was just a random freak accident." "Actually, Number 18, it wasn't. You see, the 'good guys' will always thwart our plans whenever they get the chance. therefore, we need to stay one step ahead of them by moving on to our next plan before they realize that we're not going to try the same one again and will instead follow a perfectly logical course to our next caper." "Uh..." "Is that confusing, Number 18?" "Y... yeah... but what isn't?" "Not enough, I'm afraid. Oh, well, I'll just go over it all again." Stopping the tape, Number 18 interrupted Dark Lurking Guy's repetition. "And so we did, but that's another story." "Yes. Anyway, you entirely destroyed my operation. Now, here you are again, to stop me again, no doubt. You were probably somehow associated with the escape of Princess Elsa from the BB-GEIS, as well." "So that's where you met her!" exclaimed DamnGlitch, finally making the connection between the Hunter and that princess he'd met aboard the Camp Grenada Yada Yada Yada. "What? You were there?" "Yeah, and he's the one who got her out!" "Is this true?" Dark Lurking Guy asked the Hunter. "Golly whiz gee, I suppo-diddly-ose, your sir-ness-ship." said the Hunter in a random bout of first-year-cadet-ism that somehow sounded familiar to Dark Lurking Guy. "Y... you!" the Dark Lord of the Silt roared. "Huh? What'd I do now?" asked the Hunter, confused. "You only foiled the semi-legendary Dark Lord of the Silt on three separate occassions, completely by horrible random chance." replied DamnGlitch. "Oh." "And for that, you shall pay! Vaporize them, Number 18!" boomed Dark Lurking Guy. "Um... sir... I didn't have a gun before, and... well... I still don't have one..." "Oh, here, you go." said the Hunter, pulling a smallish pocket pistol out of a shoulder holster beneath his Hawaiian shirt. "It's my Stinger." "Oh, thank you." "Now, Number 18, vaporize them!" commanded Dark Lurking Guy once more. "Mmmmm... no." "What?" "I don't work for you anymore. Here's your Stinger back." 18 said, handing the Hunter his weapon. "Fine! I'll take care of him myself!" said the Dark Lord, whipping out seventeen Imperious Galaxial Order for Order and Chaos Medals of Shining Brilliance that he proceeded to throw at the Hunter's head. Harmlessly bouncing off his reinforced duranium head, they fell to the ground at Dark Lurking Guy's feet. "Oh, poo." "Get him, Hunter!" urged DamnGlitch, figuring that the Hunter would now whip out his Stinger once more and blast the annoying tubby fellow. "Muskrat toenail!" called the Hunter, putting his hand under his overshirt once more and drawing his weapon... a rubber chicken. He then proceeded to huck it at Dark Lurking Guy, where it got stuck in the belt compartment where his medals were stored. "Hrmm... how annoying." said Dark Lurking Guy, beating a hasty retreat to somewhere else on the planet that looked exactly the same as long as you couldn't see the docking bay.
"Hey, Number 18!" called DamnGlitch as Number 18 headed off toward Dark Lurking Guy's shuttle. "What?" responded 18, turning once again to show his trademark gilded number. "You wanna come to a party? It's not like your old boss is gonna mind, or care." "Judging by the fact that he's been trying to brood there for ten minutes in the middle of nowhere on a gigantic disco ball, I suppose you're right." "Plus, we need another member of our team. I suppose." "Why?" "Why not?" "Sounds good. Plus, I'd like to avoid that stupid shuttle as much as I can. I could stand to at least hitch a ride off this sparklefest someday." "What do you think, Hunter?" "Limeade will never replace lemonade." replied the Insane One. "Huh?" asked 18, confused (again). "Take it as a yes." "Okay."
Three weeks later, the Quest of Insanity blasted off of the planet 70, leaving Dark Lurking Guy there to brood in the brightest place in the galaxy. Until he found someone who wanted to leave and could fly his ship, he was stuck there, so the galaxy would probably be safe from small annoyances for a while. Meanwhile, aboard the ship itself, DamnGlitch was piloting while the Hunter mercilessly beat the pants off of Number 18 in a game of Bipolar Diet Flower Chess. While it's much like chess, chess generally has less limbo dancing and full houses dealt in the first five cards, thus the difference. Number 18 was an expert on the game, but he couldn't beat the Hunter due to the Hunter's inherent lack of strategy in everything he did. 18 would actually maneuver himself into position to drive straight at the Hunter's central two kings on the middle gravi-board, but the Hunter always ended up with at least six queens placed just so on the outer five pylons that he could call in on a roll of four, five, or six on a die after he played his hand and got at least two pair. Then, the Hunter would mysteriously counterattack and checkmate the hapless 18. After the seventh time he'd lost, Number 18 decided to call it a night. "Maybe I should take up gravi-boarding." he said. "I can teach you that." replied the Hunter. "But first, I have something to do." "What's that?" "The same thing DamnGlitch just did." the Hunter replied, motioning to DamnGlitch, who had just jettisoned an escape pod in the direction of the MDb World. "Dang it, now I have to find him. Keep an eye on things here." said the Hunter, simply diving out an open airlock. "Wh... wha... he... uh..."
At this point, the confused Number 18 landed on the planet DamnGlitch and the Hunter had just thrown themselves toward. He left the Quest of Insanity off in the middle of a field, then headed off to parts unknown for a while. When he returned, there was no ship... The third Battle of the Posters then happened, but due to our amazing lack of effort, there is no actual compiled account of its happenings. The Hunter was reuinited with Samus Aran (explained in the next chapter), was blown up in an attempt to slow an unstoppable force later destroyed by TJ, almighty creator of the MDb world after the valiant efforts of the BOTP participants on his behalf, and was wished back along with SimBen 2 from BOTP2 by the Dragon Balls of the MDb world.
Chapter 4: All's Well That Ends Unexpectedly
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©2000-2003 The Insane Space Hunter.
