Okay guys, since I get add a read more bit because I'm on my iPod in the lovely sunshine, you're all just gunna have to bear with me wait….

idk what that done but ohwell :L
SPLASHY IS A LADY! Just saying…
Anyway, in this lovely weather I am sitting here writing this to tell you let to get your bums out side and get a tan! Work on it and tell me how you get on :3 sorry This is a pointless post but meeow :3
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-suzie/drust
<3

Chapter 7

Day three of training.

Ken and Flip had seen some impressive progress by the soldiers of TG. They were becoming excellent troops. A few days ago, that was a different story.

At the start of training, Ken and Flip didn’t think it was going to work. Not all of the soldiers would follow directions, and some of them were bad at performing tactics. Both Flip and Ken knew that it was going to be tiresome to train these soldiers.

But things worked out. The ACP leaders introduced tactics that these guys had never heard of. They gave everyone new weapons and gear that would surely improve how they did in battles. This was a big part of the improvement.

The troops also did better at following orders. They became more dedicated and more serious. And on the third day all of that began to pay off.

Ken and Flip watched as the TG troops shot at the target across the big room. They watched the troops fire at once, quickly reload, and fire again.

The target had a giant hole in the center. Indeed, they had improved.

After a week of training, Flip and Ken entered a room where mostly everyone was eating dinner. Everyone stopped chewing and stared at the two leaders. Ken cleared his throat.

“Ok, all of you. You have done an excellent job this week. You have improved at everything. But we still have a week left.”

Flip now spoke. “I have something to take care of. I’ll be back in two days. For now, Ken will lead you alone. And soon, he’ll find an army for you guys to battle. And I’m confident you’ll win with flying colors.”

Ken spoke again. “Well, that’s it. Enjoy your meal.” Everyone began talking and chewing again. Ken and Flip exited the room. They began talking again as they walked down the hall.

“So, you know what to do, right?” asked Ken.

“Of course,” said Flip. “I’ll infiltrate the base of Bernard. I’ll see what he’s planning, then return here. By then, he will have created some kind of army, and we’ll crush them. Then we ditch TG, and use whatever he created for ourselves.”

“Exactly,” said Ken. They were now at the front door. Flip was strapped with a special vest with several tools inside.

“Well, I’ll be back in two days,” said Flip.

“See you then, and good luck.” Ken turned around and headed to the elevator.

Flip took a step outside into the dark evening, only to be lit by the small glow of the crescent moon. He hopped into the convertible car that he and Ken had driven to get to the base. He pulled the keys out of his pocked and started the key hole. Soon he was cruising away into the woods.

It was a beautiful evening, but this was no time for sightseeing. Flip could see the end of the woods in the distance. He stopped the car. He needed the car to stay hidden, so no one would know he was near, even though he was far from civilization. Flip jogged his way out of the woods, and then walked two miles in the direction he was headed.

Flip stopped and pulled out a tracker device. The state of the art device he was holding could track any forms of life underground. He noticed a beeping on the top of the screen. He began walking north. The beeping that started as a small heartbeat grew to be louder and faster until it turned into one long beep.

Flip shut off the device. He had arrived.

Flip remembered that the soldier from ACP told him that everyone accessed the hideout by going to an island and taking an underwater tunnel back to the main island. But the docks were closed. He needed a different way to find the hideout. Luckily, Flip was prepared.

The Natural Substance Scanner (N.S.S.) could identify if objects were manmade or natural environment. Only one N.S.S. existed in the entire world. That one N.S.S. happened to be in Flip’s vest.

Flip scanned the general area he was in. Everything seemed normal, until he came to an unusually large rock. Clearly Bernard had placed it there to hide his hideout. No one would have known it was fake without an N.S.S.

Flip mustered up all his strength and pushed the rock out of the way. After he caught his breath, took out a shovel from his pack and began digging.

After an hour, Flip banged his shovel against something metal. He moved all the dirt and snow out of the way. He could now see a big metal square. He pulled out a pocket laser and shot a hole through the metal. He could see several ladder rungs leading down to the hideout. Flip placed the laser back in his pocket and began climbing down.

At the bottom of the ladder stood David. The guy who normally kept guard there got sick and threw up all over Bernard. David, even though he was being mind-controlled, could still remember how ticked off Bernard was, and how he screamed his head off at the sick guard.

When David heard a noise coming from the ladder, he pulled out a gun and loaded some bullets.

Flipper heard this from above. He took out a microphone from his vest. The Voice Disguiser it was called. Flip pulled out the remote for it and pressed the third button.

“It’s me Bernard. I thought I heard something from the surface, so I was checking it out. I’ll keep guard here. You can go take a break,” Flip spoke into the microphone as Bernard’s voice came out the speakers.

“Thank you sir! How generous you are!” David replied to who he thought was Bernard. He turned around and walked towards the door to the hallway.

Flip was now almost at the bottom of the ladder. When he was a few rungs from the floor, he dropped down.

Because Flip couldn’t see anything in the room from the ladder, he hadn’t known that David was still in the room. “Hey, you’re not-”

David never finished the sentence. Flip pulled out the laser and shot David’s left wing. David yelped out in pain and fell to the floor.

Flip ran over to him and pulled out some duct tape. “You guys are finished,” was all Flip said to him before he quietly dashed down the hall.

Chapter 8

Bernard walked out of his bedroom. He had spent the last week training his loyal subjects. It was the middle of the night, but he couldn’t sleep. He pulled out a walkie-talkie. “Dave, come in, Dave,” he said into it. Bernard got no response. “David, do you read me?” Still no response. Something was up. Maybe he had gotten his mind-control device off of himself and was trying to escape. Bernard would not let that happen.

He found himself sprinting down the long hallway. When he got to the end he jumped down all thirteen steps. How unlucky he was getting. He kept forgetting to add an extra step.

Eventually, he reached the room where David had been keeping guard. He gasped. David could hardly stand up. He ripped the duct tape that was on his beak and was now clutching his left wing.

“What happened?!” Bernard boomed.

“That ACP leader! Flipper! Somehow he found out about this, and now he’s somewhere in the hideout!” That’s all David could say before he fell flat on his back and began moaning in pain.

“AaaaaaaaAAAAAARRRRRRRRG!” Bernard’s low moan turned into a mighty scream. He pressed a button on the watch that was wrapped around his wrist. An alarm went off, and a red light began flashing throughout the hideout. Bernard yelled into the loudspeaker, “RED ALERT! WE’RE IN RED ALERT! FIND THAT DANG ACP LEADER FLIPPER AND KILL HIM!”

A few minutes before that, Flip had arrived in a room marked Top Secret. There were no guards. Either Bernard was an idiot or the guards were lazy. He had seen a guy sleeping around the corner of the hall, so Flip went with number two.

Flip applied gloves and began poking around in a drawer. He went through a bunch of papers until he found what he was looking for. He read the title of the first paper in the file folder. “Plans for Domination“. Flip quickly began taking pictures.

From what Flip was able to read, Bernard had made an army. He planned on sabotaging other armies’ gear and killing them off by using new weapons and tactics he had invented along with weapons and tactics that were used to win some of the greatest wars in history. He also planned to take control of CPAC.

Suddenly, an alarm went off, and a red light began flashing. Bernard’s voice boomed through the speakers on the walls. They were after him. Flip ran out of the room, plans in hand. Soon a couple of people were chasing him, trying to pull out guns. Pages of the plans began slipping out of the folder. Flip turned a corner, and he was greeted with a slap of a firearm to his face. The plans fell out of his grasp and fell alongside him to the floor. The guy who had slapped him pointed his gun at him. For a second, Flip thought it was all over.

But it wasn’t. Flip took a swift kick at the guy, and he went flying into a wall, dropping his gun. Flip got to his feet and started sprinting. He no longer had the plans, but if he tried to get them he would clearly get himself killed.

Flip noticed some words on a door down the hall. “Emergency Exit” it read. Flip had outrun most of the people, but there were still a few unarmed penguins chasing him.

Flip made it to the door. He had no time to use the door knob. He busted right through, making a big hole in the door. He hopped into a pod and pressed the button. A voice came through the speakers in the pod. “Lift off in 3….2….1!” The pod blasted right through the roof.

Flip soon found himself a couple hundred feet above the ground. The pod stopped flying, and started falling to the ground. Flip screamed. Right before it hit the ground, airbags bursted out all sides of the pod. Flip landed safely.

Flip kicked open the door of the pod. He tried to catch his breath, but there wasn’t much time for that. He could hear noises coming from the ladder, which was actually pretty close to where Flip had landed. Flip took off running again, straight in the direction of the woods.

Just as he passed the first couple of trees, the first gunshots were heard. Flip grabbed his gun and began shooting behind him, not sure if the shots were even anywhere close to where the guys chasing him were.

“You’re dead, Flipper!” one of the yelled. Flip tried responding but had no breath in him to speak. All he could think about was his car. He could now see it in the distance.

The gunshots kept coming. One bullet passed right between Flip’s legs. Flip almost tripped, but kept on running.

Flip made it to the convertible. He went flying over the front hood and landed upside-down in the driver’s seat. He turned the keys and went screeching off.

Just when he thought he had gotten away, a bullet went right through the back of the car. Part of the engine was destroyed. Flip was losing speed. He turned around and started firing at the guys chasing him. That’s when Flip was happy that he had spent all that time in his younger years at the ACP training camp doing target practice. Every one of the guys fell to the ground, a pool of blood surrounding them.

Flip was out of breath, when he could no longer see the guys he had shot, he stopped the car. He had no energy left in him. He took ten minutes just to start breathing regularly. He finally gathered up enough energy to get back onto the empty main road, and then drove a few miles down and into some different woods so no one could find him.

The car was almost out of gas. There was some spare gas in the back, but Flip was to tired to change it. He stopped the car and fell right asleep in the driver’s seat.

At that moment, Bernard stood in the hallway of his hideout. He had gathered up all the papers of the plans. He set them on the floor, then turned to David, who had a cast around his left wing.

“I’m sorry, sir,” was all David could manage.

Bernard didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed David by the back and yanked the mind control device that was under his shirt off of his body.

David fell to the floor. The last thing he could remember was Bernard reaching for him while holding a brain-washing device. Now he was on the floor in this unknown place, Bernard was standing above him, and his left wing hurt like crazy.

“I’m finished with my plans. Now I’m ready to execute them,” said Bernard. “I will use my army to get world domination. Everyone will bow down to me. And now I no longer have any need for you.” He pointed at David. “You’ve helped me finish my plans in your mind-controlled state. Now there finished, and you’re no longer needed.” He pointed a gun at David. David’s heart sank. “Good-bye.” He shot the gun.

David was dead.

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Comment with YOUR opinion!  (Not your mother’s, Blue….)  What will Bernard do now that Flip had a glimpse of the plans.  What will Bernard’s new army do when they finally enter battle?

-Tomato 8883 CPA Story Central Writer

Hello CPASC.

A few changes are being made around here. First of all, I am here to officially settle the issue relating to Asd. I cannot rehire you as you have started a rival story site; that would be like hiring CPAA’s Head to work for CPAC. If you will no longer spearhead Story Avenue, you will be welcomed back. It is your choice.

Secondly, I have hired Joee as both our newest writer and graphics designer. He has done the background on our newest addition, CPASC’s Chat. Click here to visit it.

Also, today I got to talking with Becca and Drust on chat. In Splashy’s recent post, I got to thinking that it was truly unfair that Drust overstepped Becca to fill the position of Secondary Head. I was also surprised today at how politically minded Becca was, which I believe may be a great asset. In all logic, there should only be one Secondary Head if there are two Heads. But I ended up making the executive decision, and I hope Splashy will conquer, to make Becca and Drust Co-Secondary Heads of Site and to promote Shadow to the position of Head Writer.

That’s it for now. I hope we as CPASC can continue bringing you the best quality stories around.

~Füняєя.Bℓυєsσ¢кωa.тнє.1sт, CPA Story Central C0-Head of Site

An expansion of CPASC

Here’s a simple idea. Seeing as CPASC only posts stories, it can kinda get a bit boring. Yes, our wonderful writers provide the best stories available about CP Warfare, but what about something else? If we made a small expansion, we could get a let more viewers. Every little helps. I’m here today, as CPASC Co-Head, to propose a new idea, of a weekly Philosophy programme on CPASC. So, here’s how it’d go.

A small group of CPASC writers would get together, and contribute to a weekly Philosophy post, in which several different topics of CP Warfare would be discussed. Basically, like normal Philosophy, but more complicated.

Getting into more detail, a topic would be decided by the contributors on a chat, and then a post would be made. Each contributor would add their thoughts to the post, and in the end, make a mega post. I believe this would be rather interesting, because it would make a change to the ordinary stories that we usually post. As an experienced Philosopher, I believe this idea could work and become a popular thing on CPASC. I would oversee everything and make a contribution to the weekly post, and I would manage the staff of the Philosophy programme.

So please, comment with your thoughts on this idea. Do you think it’d work? Would you like to work with this Philosophy programme? Would you like to expand CPASC, and also expand your Philosophy skills? Would you like to read a gigantic post at the end of every week, on a specific topic? Please, comment with your ideas. Thank you.

Shows how mad I truly am.

Chapter 4: The Lead

“Sir?”

“Hello, Becca. What is it?”

“Someone here to see you, sir.”

“And they would be?”

“Splashy.”

“Bring him in.”

Becca walked out of Blue1’s office, her heels clicking as she approached Splashy and told him to go in, and then returned to her desk. Splashy stood at the door for a moment, and then Blue1 beckoned for him to sit.

Blue1 stood up, buttoning his jacket, closing and locking the door. He walked to a window, his back to Splashy.

“I thought I was clear enough when I told you we were to erase this all.”

“However you were not clear in your explanation of why,” Splashy responded with equal calm wit.

“I cannot tell you why.”

“This is a pointless argument. I have something for you.”  Splashy reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and tossed it to Blue.

“I hope we can discuss this when you decide to invite me to the next meeting you hold,” and with that, Splashy shuffled out the door.

He cannot know, Blue’s mind told him over and over again. He then turned his attention to the piece of paper, and, unfolding it carefully, began to read.

Preamble

This is the end, so you think. If you are reading this, the inevitable has happened. You will play an extremely important role in the returning of this empire; however, do not underestimate the power of the public. In which case, as previously stated by the preceding article, the primary choice will be thrown into the hands of the people. They are free to help and assist as they please, be the forefront. But you will be the shadows. You will call the shots, you will pull the strings. As I write this, I find the events described both impossible and inevitable. It is irrelevant. If you are reading this, it has taken place. And now you will call the shots on the grand finale of the puppet play I have archite-

Blue threw the paper on his desk, his mind racing. He immediately sprang from his seat and ran for Becca.

“Becca!”

“Sir?”

“Get Splashy to get the hell back over here. Now.”

“I’ll call him.”

“Thank you,” Blue adjusted his tie and returned to his room.

As Blue sat back down, he read over the article again and again. In no time, Splashy had returned.

“I figured this would happen.” he said as he sat.

“Let me tell you something.”  Blue studied him intensely. “The reason to abolish our association was because of what happened at the wedding. There was another attack just last night, on their honeymoon.”

“Are they alright?”

“You know Drust and Chrisi, they’re fine. But it worries me. I do not believe they are after Drust and Chrisi because of them; neither does Blue2. The both of us believe they are trying to eliminate those close to me to slowly wear me down not only from a power perspective but also a mental one. And frankly, I can’t stand to see that happen to you. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Now, where did you get this?”

“I have a source.”

“And you will introduce me to him?”

“2:30 AM, center of town.”

“I’ll be there. You are dismissed; thank you.”

Blue tapped a button.

“Yes?”

“Notify Sklooperis, Bluesockwa2, Drust, Chrisi Blule, Omega, Cart and Mchappy via encrypted message of a Council Meeting tomorrow at noon.”

“Done and done.”

“Thank you.”

Chapter 5: Deep Throat

Blue paced in the center square of town. It was 2:37 AM on a Tuesday, a cold morning, with few people around and the post lamps dimly lit. To his left, he heard the unmistakable sound of a cigar lighting, and, seeing the dim glow of it, followed the light into an alley. He found the silhouettes of two penguins there, one figure holding a Viking wing that, when flipped in half, revealed a lighter, but it did nothing to illuminate either penguin’s face.

“Call me deep throat,” the figure said, startling Blue. “This, of course, is Splashy. With the recent events of Operation Black Snow, and your clear failure to realize what is truly taking place, I decided to plant Splashy with your first lead.”

“But we obviously don’t know what it is,” Splashy told him.

“If you knew what it was, this case would be blown wide open. You honestly cannot know of the magnitude of a case that one piece of paper will throw you into.” said Deep Throat.

“If it involves Cas, I know very well.” Blue responded.

“Nothing like this. This is a web of backstabbings, conspiracies and lies that even Cas couldn’t have prepared for.”

“So where do we start?” Splashy pressed on.

“I do not tell you what you need to know. You tell me what I want to hear, and then I will tell you what you need to know.”

Blue looked up at the clock tower, and could barely make out 3:58.

“But I leave you with this, gentlemen. How far are you willing to go to get what you want?” Deep Throat paused and studied both of them, something neither Splashy nor Blue could see in the dim light.

Deep Throat shut his wing lighter, and it was clear the meeting was over. Splashy and Blue turned on their heels and left just as the tower chimed four.

“Who was that?” Blue asked after it had become apparent they were far enough away.

“Deep Throat.” Splashy said.

“Damn it, Splash, I know that! I mean who is he?”

“If I knew, you would know by now as well.”

“Either way,” Blue regained his composure, “This needs to be kept secret from The Council.”

“Council?

“Come with me.” Splashy followed Blue down another alley and onto a sidewalk adjacent to the main road of Mammoth, where cars were starting to appear as the time neared five o’clock. The sharp breeze stung their faces like needles, and they soon reached the high-rise CPASC building.

Blue scanned his card, and, Splashy doing the same, followed him into the entryway of the building. They were greeted by Shadow, who was also just walking in.

“Hello Blue; Splashy.”

“Hey Shad,”

“Hey. You just comin’ in?”

“Yep.”

“Well then,” Blue said, turning to Splashy, “We’re going to need to see who’s here for ourselves.”

The three walked in, and were immediately greeted by Cait, whose cubicle was closest to the door.

“Hey,” she said, turning to face them.

“Hello, Cait. Who’s been in?”

“We’re all here, to the best of my knowledge. Actually, I haven’t seen Drust. But besides that, looking good.”

“Good to hear,” Splashy said, and as Shadow sat down, the two exchanged greetings with Tomato and Kooldude, and then went into Becca’s office. It was nicely furnished, with a glass table and three bright red chairs in the center of the room, with bookshelves on both walls to the left and right side, a large window at the back of the office, and a desk and laptop where Becca sat near there.

“Hello you two,” Becca greeted them.

“Hey Becca,” they both said.

Blue continued with, “You sent out the message, correct?”

“Yes.” she said. “They should be arriving in about an hour or so.”

“10-4”

“In other news, I think you might want to check on Drust.” she gave them a smile.

Knowing what that meant, Blue pulled Splashy out of Becca’s office and into Drust’s to the right.

The office was furnished much the name, but the red chairs were black, there were no bookshelves, in one corner sat a beanbag and a few books, and all over the walls were plastered many of Drust’s drawings, the floor included. Drust slumped at her desk, asleep with a Coke knocked over next to her.

Blue walked over, smiling, and shook Drust awake.

“Drust, dear,” he said. “Try to get home at some point.”

Splashy walked over and added with equal fondness, “Your home is where you sleep, not here. And someone is going to have to clean up this Coke.”

She turned her screen toward them and smiled, showing almost a full page of jumbled letters from her head leaning on the keyboard.

“Publish that, I dare you,” Blue said, laughing. “Now, we have somewhere to be. Try to look presentable. I expect you to be there by eleven thirty.”

“It’s eleven twenty,” she told him.

“Precisely,” he grinned, turned on his heel and walked out, followed by Splashy.

He led Splashy into his office next. Splashy took a seat in one of the chairs, and Blue sat at his desk. And at once, Splashy realized. Blue nodded. Splashy immediately got up and walked into his own office.

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So, what does YOUR MOTHER think? What is The Council? What is the lead; who wrote it? Who is Deep Throat? Comment with YOUR MOTHER’S opinion!

Chapter 5

Bernard awoke to the ringing of the phone in his office. He had fallen asleep in his chair the night before while he had been working on writing his plans. He wasn’t worried about anyone seeing them, there were three security guards standing outside his office.

Bernard picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Good morning Bernard,” David’s voice spilled out of the phone. “Everyone is returning from their sleeping quarters to their groups to finish pitching ideas.”

“Excellent,” replied Bernard. “Bring the best ideas to my office at exactly noon so I can approve them.”

“Yes sir,” said David, and the line went dead.

Bernard set down the phone.

He could finish his plans in no time. He’d make the greatest plans ever. He’d carry out his plans and become the ruler of the entire world!

His thoughts took a turn to his group. These people were helping him finish his plans. Then he’d use them for a powerful force that would destroy any army that crossed their path. These people would become stronger. Not just stronger, but smarter too. Writing these plans would give them ideas, and they’d get smarter everyday. Smart enough to overthrow Bernard…

Bernard slammed his fist down on the table. Suddenly these people weren’t his friends. In a matter of time they would turn on him so they could be the supreme ruler of the world. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to show them how powerful he really was.

Five hours passed. Bernard had collected the brightest ideas and had begun adding them to his plans. He couldn’t concentrate. He kept thinking how they’d eventually try to overthrow him. Soon it came to a point where he couldn’t take it any longer.

Bernard reached for the button on the intercom. “Good afternoon, everyone,” Bernard spoke into the microphone. “Please report to the cave area on the lowest level of the hideout. Thank you.”

In a matter of minutes everyone had gathered in the cave. Bernard was the last to arrive. Everyone stood at attention when they saw him enter.

“Hello, everyone. I called you all here to give you a demonstration.” He pointed at a penguin standing in the front. “You. Come over here.” The penguin walked over with a little hesitation. “Give me your hardest shot.”

“Okay,” said the penguin, not sure where this was going. He pulled back his wing and gave Bernard the hardest punch he could.

Bernard didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

“See?” Bernard told everyone. “Now watch this.” Bernard punched the penguin. The penguin went flying across the cave. He took a hard landing and rolled into the wall.

Everyone gasped, then turned there attention towards Bernard.

“I just wanted to show all of you how strong I am,” said Bernard. A smile was forming on his beak. “Incase any of you had thoughts of turning against me, hopefully you’ll remember this sample of my power.”

Bernard exited, leaving everyone alone with shocked looks on their faces.

Back in his office, Bernard was rapidly typing more items to add to his plans. Nothing could stop him.

Unfortunately, far off from where he was, there was something that could.

Chapter 6

Flipper and Kenneth stood outside a building.

“You ready for this?” Flip asked Ken.

“Definitely,” replied Ken.

The building said “Team Gold Main Base” in large letters. The two entered.

About ten soldiers stood behind the double doors with pistols in hand. “Why are you here? What do you want?” boomed one of the soldiers.

Flip and Ken kept a straight face. “We come in peace,” said Flip. “We would like to speak to your leader.”

The soldiers kept their guns pointed at them. One of them picked up a phone and dialed a number. “Spice, the ACP leaders wanna talk to you.” He listened to the response. “Sure thing.” He hung up the phone and turned towards Flip and Ken. “He’ll be down in a second. Wait in the room over there.” He pointed to his left where an open room lay. Inside there were a few couches and chairs.

Flip took a seat in a chair. Ken sat on the couch across from him. Flip picked up a magazine that was lying on the table. It was titled, “Team Gold: The Best Army”. Flip laughed. Probably written by some noobs. He flipped it open and started reading.

Ken noticed the title of the magazine. “You know,” he said to Flip, “that might be true when we’re finished with them.”

“You’re right,” said Flip. Then he whispered, “Except for the fact that we’ll trash them about and ditch them once we’re done using them.” They both chuckled at that.

A few minutes later, Spice entered the room, followed by Cheese. “Ah, Saint Spice, a pleasure to see you,” Flip said with a fake smile. He stuck out his feather. Spice didn’t shake it.

“Why are you here?” asked Spice.

Ken spoke. “We’ve noticed your army has taken a downfall. We’d like to help you restore your army to its former glory. You’ve seen us. We’re leading ACP, and they’re the most powerful army. We could surely help you guys out.”

Spice glared at him. “How can I know you’re telling the truth? Why would you want to help TG?”

“We hardly have any competition these days. We’d love to battle a powerful army, so we want to make you guys stronger,” Flip lied.

“Here’s the deal Spicy,” said Ken. “Give us two weeks to lead TG, and we can make them powerful. A top five army, at least, like they once were.”

Spice was silent for a minute. Finally, he said, “Alright. But I’ve got my eye on you two.” Spice turned and exited. Cheese pointed at his eyes then pointed at Ken and Flip, and followed Spice. Soon, an announcement was made about Flip and Ken’s temporary leadership. All the TG troops reported to the meeting room.

Flip and Ken fist bumped.

So far so good. TG had been tricked. They’d do whatever Ken and Flip told them, and then the ACP duo would get rid of TG when they were finished. Bernard was as good as dead.

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Comment with YOUR opinion.  What do yo think of Flip and Ken using TG to take down Bernard?  What will happen when these two forces clash?

-Tomato 8883 CPA Story Central Writer

The Update!!!

So, this’ll be a really quick post, just informing you about an update to the RIGHT sidebar. It’s going to be this widget where the main staff (HoS, SHoS & HW) can fill in their little gap in the widget with a random thought of the month or something. I just wanted to do this so we could introduce some fun stuff into CPASC. And yes, more stuff is coming soon. More updates, and hopefully more fun. So, please, if you’re staff that were previously mentioned, enter your random thought into the sidebar, and if you’re a reader, tell us what fun stuff you’d like to see here at CPASC and it may become a reality! ENJOY THE NEW WIDGET.

~Trolololol. Aka, Splashy, CPASC Co-Head.

Chapter 2: The Assembling

“Greetings, all. We are gathered here in discussion of the recent arson attempt at Drust and Chrisi’s wedding.”

“Really? They set the wedding on fire, what’s simpler than that?” it was Omega.

“Then someone wants me dead.” Blue1 added.

“I find that unlikely,” Blue2 said, “I believe Blue1 is the target here.”

“I agree,” Mch added, “If whoever ‘they’ are have any sense, they will want to keep any tension against Cas’s assassination quiet until it’s absolutely necessary to reveal it.”

“Well, there’s one penguin we can start with,” Cart said, leaning back in his chair. He pulled out a folder and threw it on the table.

Blue1 grabbed it and opened it. “Exactly, Cart.”

“Tucker Jinx,” he said. “He’s been the only prominent activist against the reformation of the army world after Cas’s death.”

“Yes. Roll the clip,” Blue1 pointed at the screen with his pen.

The screen flickered on, showing Tucker Jinx on a podium surrounded by a crowd of about a hundred.

“Don’t you see how well things went under Commando, and even Cas? We need to bring those times back! Blue told you all fire was catching, and that Commando and Cas would burn down in those very flames! The problem is, those flames are uncontrollable. And the fact is the next one to burn down in those flames…. will be you.”

“Cut the clip,” Blue finished.

“The problem is,” Cart began, “We can’t kill Tucker. If we do, it’ll just help his cause…..”

As Cart continued speaking, Blue1’s mind wandered to a conversation he had almost six years ago with Cas. Flashback.

“What do you mean?”

“Taking out Commando and Sergie will not be difficult. The real fight, the real battle, the one you’ve been ignoring, is the Loyalists vs. the Rebels. After The Empire is in shambles, after Commando and Sergie are dead, that… that will be the real fight. And one you, frankly, cannot ignore.”

“Blue.” Blue2 said for what was actually the third time. “Something bugging you?”

“Something Cas told me almost six years,” he paused to let that sink in, “During the initial forming of the Black Snow plan. He said that after Commando and Sergie were dead, the real battle would be between those still loyal, still supportive of the empire, and those like us who rebelled. He said the real fight would be the loyalists versus the rebels.”

“He’s right.” Blue2 spoke. “That’s exactly what has become of things.”

“A civil war inside the army world,” a voice spoke, a figure leaning on the door. “The very climax of tension that has been building for many, many years.”

“Skloop?” Blue2 whipped around.

“Yes.”

“What the? How?”

“I’ve decided to pop in. Looks like you could use my help getting yourselves out of this hell hole.” Skloop flopped into a chair.

“Everyone, this is Sklooperis, Former CPAC Head of Site. Skloop, this is Blue1, who you’ve met, Cart, ACP 3ic, Mchappy, ACP 2ic, and Omega, well- you know.”

“Yes, yes. As I was saying, you don’t realize how long this has been building. I suspect multiple events will take place, seemingly irrelevant to each other, just as things always do. Eventually these people will find they have the same enemies, and groups will be formed. How many, I cannot tell you. We already know the Loyalists of the Empire will be one, presumably under Tucker Jinx. Whatever happens next will decide the fate of the army world.”

“Always one to sum things up, Skloop.” Blue2 told him.

“I also suggest you and Funks step down.” Skloop continued, hiding any emotion.

“What?” it was Blue2’s turn to be surprised.

“You have headed CPAC for over two years now. It’s about time another stepped up to the plate.”

“Who do you suggest?” Cart asked.

“Why, Bluesockwa1, of course. Isn’t that how it works? Secondary Head becomes Head?”

“Skloop…..”

“I will speak with you alone, Blue2.”

“This meeting is adjourned,” Mchappy announced, “Goodnight to you all.”

Chapter 3: Advancing

“Secure.”

“Move in.

“Attention, Overlord Jinx, targets 4 and 5 acquired on the server of Fjord.”

“Good. I have operatives acquiring 2 and 3, hopefully tomorrow.”

“10-4. Moving in.” the figure switched off his radio. “Pick the damn lock!” he whispered.

“I can’t get it. We’re going to have to go in from the front.”

“Fine. Don’t screw this up any more than you already did.”

“Let’s move.”

The two figures walked casually into the hotel and through the main area. They slipped away and let the people in front get onto the elevator, pretending they were doing something. It was a little past eleven at night, and the hotel was practically deserted.

As the elevator opened for a second time, the two figures strode in and lit cigars, letting the smoke fill the area. One figure hung near to the panel of buttons, and when the elevator reached the sixth floor, he held the door closed, and continuing to fill the elevator with smoke. The other figure, the one in the center of the elevator, reached into his black jacket and pulled out a pen. He unlatched the back.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Well then get off your bloody asses and proceed with the plan.” Overlord Jinx chimed in.

“Working on it,” one man said as he took his hand of the button keeping the door closed, and the second pressed a button on the center of the pen. The door swung open, and a fan in the pen propelled the gas out of the elevator, creating a smokescreen. The figures moved carefully through the corridor, and stopped at a door.

“There it is. Room 627.”

“Move in.”

The man unlatched another pen from his jacket, and this time, pinned it into the door. From it extended four cords, each going in parallel directions. Suddenly, the cords formed a circle, which glowed orange, and the door exploded upon, but nothing could be seen in the hallway as the smokescreen covering it crept into room 627.

“What’s going on?” came a voice inside the room.

“Quiet.” another answered.

One figure drew a pistol, the other, a sub-machine gun.

As the smokescreen filled the room, the first man took out a blinker, telling the other to move in. They dove forward, and the pistol-carrying penguin was immediately shot down, as the other dove for the man who had shot him. The figure took this penguin and smashed his face into the wall, knocking him out.

“Welcome to your honeymoon, Drust dear.” Chrisi said as he dropped the penguin to the ground. “We have to notify the police.”

“No.” Drust grabbed Chrisi’s flipper. “If we do, that’ll just bring light to the story. We can’t let anyone know of what happened.”

“So how do you plan to fix this mess?” Chrisi asked.

“Move that dressed to cover the wall, and the door. Move the other to cover the door, so no one can get in. Make it look like we were kidnapped.”

“Brilliant,” Chrisi said, moving the two dressers as Drust rose from bed and grabbed her things.

“Now.” she said, grabbing Chrisi by the arm. “Let’s blow this hell hole.”

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So, what do you think? What is the motive behind the attack? What will happen in CPAC, and how will Skloop’s intervening affect it? Comment with YOUR opinion!

Okay so this is like the final part of Ocean of Blood, Lets see what happens to Funks in his new world. And what is Lady Drust doing in plane 1? Well i actually dont know so yeah xD Read on to find out moreeeeee. 

Three days passed by seamlessly. Joe and Obby had dragged the three men and the dog back to their restaurant and cleaned up the site, leaving only Funks at the scene. When the fog cleared and the citizens of Sleet came out of their houses, Joe put on the most theatrical show of mourning anyone had ever seen as she lead them over to Funks body. She cried of how she had just found him there, dead and done for before she and her brother had come along once the fog rolled away. Those who knew of the twin’s darker side wondered if she had killed him herself to use for a stew, but quickly halted her plan when people began to walk the streets again and pretended to mourn as to draw suspicion away from herself.
The rumor that Obby and Joe had killed Funks spread like wildfire the day after but no one dared to say this to their faces, lest they end on the wrong side of the twins’ knife. Local police said they didn’t have any evidence to convict them of the murder, and seeing as how Funks was the only one who appeared to be outside during the fog, another conclusion was drawn that a demon had come and done Funks in.
Other wild theories poured in about how he died. Some suggested a grizzly suicide and others said that the seemingly friendly boy had enemies that exacted their revenge. Whatever their reasoning, no one could come to a solid, or correct, conclusion of how he met his end. There was one thing that everyone did agree on, and that was that his soul must be trapped on earth. It was thought that if someone met an untimely death or a particularly brutal one their ghost would remain bound to the mortal world and unable to move on until they had revenge for themselves or served some greater purpose.
Everyone, secretly or not, was anxious to see if his spirit would show up after the funeral.
The service was, as Joe promised, a beautiful one. The whole town came out and joined the proceedings. Iceyfeet, Asd, the rest of the farmhands and Funks dad drove in for it too, but before the ceremony even started his pa had to be escorted out. He was blazing drunk in his grieving and became violent, accusing the town of killing his boy and tried to hurt anyone who came near him, saying that they were to blame personally his murder. Iceyfeet, being one of three men who had to get Pa out of there, promised he’d make a call to Funks mom to tell her what happened.
The graveyard they chose for him was on a plot of land out in the swamp, where several mausoleums stood, housing people of importance from aristocrats from the old days and the founder of the town as well as those who were known for their charity and kindness. Funks was given a closed-casket service and a modest plot for his resting place and his headstone was decorated so heavily in flowers it looked more like a rose bush than a marker.
One person stayed behind as the mass left to go back to town when dusk began to creep over the sky. It was Sara: clad in all black. She bent down and lit a candle at the base of his grave.
“You know,” she said, her eyes resting on the bundles of flowers on the marker, “I knew exactly what was going to happen to you when you came into my nook, when I took your hand and saw into your mind. I usually can only see the past and present, but a glimpse of you future passed through Letva’s mind and she told me. I wanted to tell you so bad, but I couldn’t. It’s not wise to mess with fate.”
She stood up and turned around, heading down a wooden dock which led to the last boat waiting to ferry her across the murky waters to town. She paused for a brief moment and looked back at the grave site.
“Sweet, innocent thing, I hope you remember my words and come back. Don’t trust the man in the coat and top hat.”
With that, she stepped into the boat and the ferryman rowed her back.
It wasn’t until ten at night that the bayou began to stir with life besides insects or gators. The sound of crunching twigs and leaves broke through the cricket’s song and the man Sara had warned about showed his face.
He carried an oil-fueled lantern in one hand and a shovel in the other. The light from the lamp illuminate his face, showing that his skin held a greenish tint to it and his nose had a crooked notch near the base. His eyes were beady and his hair was long, black, and parted down the middle. On the top of his head rested a beat up top hat that had small, twig-like antlers peaking out from it with a thin layer of moss hanging off them. He was hunched over and a long, black trench coat hid most of his body, but the boney wrist and hands that extruded from the coat’s cuffs eluded to how emaciated he was; even his cheeks and eyes were sunken in.
He came upon Funks grave and set the lantern down. The man stuck the shovel in the ground, leaning on it and looking at the tombstone. The only visible part read “KINGFUNKS4 1934 – 1953”. The man grunted with dissatisfaction, picked up his shovel, and began to heave heaps of dirt to the side.
“I swear, been doing this hundreds of years and this never gets easier,” he muttered. As he dug further he kept glancing back at the name, trying to put together a picture in his mind of the young adult he’d be helping out of the casket.
The last trapped soul he dug out and mentored was a young woman nicknamed Purple of twenty-two. She had been murdered by a jealous lover when the town was just starting off. Her ex took an axe to her neck and almost cut her head clean off, and since had become one of the most popular stories of the present-day ghost tours. In her life the girl was very vain and did anything she pleased and in death she was almost worse. She became so disobedient towards the rules that her mentor set for her that he had transferred her soul into that of a black cat and did not let her change back as punishment. Since the incident, Purple had roamed the town and was most often seen in the main food district demanding food scraps from patrons and tourists alike. A number of cats made their home in Sleet, but everyone could always tell which one was her by the bright yellow bow she wore around her neck, signifying the cut from the axe.
The gravedigger’s mind came slowly back from the topic of Purple as he hit the hard cover of the casket. A few more shovels of dirt above his head and he was able to dust off the rest to reveal the whole casing. He tossed the shovel up and over the side and grabbed a protruding handle. With a hardy tug he opened the top half of the casket to reveal what seemed to be a peacefully sleeping Funks. He wore the same outfit that he had been murdered in, but with a clean shirt and suspenders. His hands were laid across his heart and the head wound had been cleaned, but his poor battered brain still showed through.
The man looked at him for a long while; gears turning in his head as he tried to piece together what exactly had happened. Finally with a sigh and a shrug he leaned over and placed a thin finger on the boy’s head, making the exact same sign Joe had done,but backwards. There was a faint glow the emitted from Funks body before it died down. His eyes fluttered open and darted around. When he saw the looming face over him, the casket, the five feet of dirt above, he absolutely freaked.
The trench coat fellow moved back and hoisted himself out of the grave without much of a problem, turning around to watch as Funks climbed out of the casket. The body itself didn’t move, but instead a perfect replica of his image tore itself away from the corpse and scrambled to its feet: his ghost.
Funks looked down at his body, up at the other man, and back and forth until he finally cried out “What the hell!” with such a force that it startled the sleeping birds in the trees above into a frenzy of caws and trills. Memories of his murder, of the twins’ voices, of his dog’s demise and the thugs came flooding back into his mind and he staggered back. He hit the dirt wall and slid down, sitting on the casket and holding his head in his hands.
That’s when he felt it. He felt the missing part of his skull; the blood trickle back down his face. He pulled his hands away and looked down at them but there were no signs of a red stain on his fingers. Not satisfied with what he saw, Funks pulled himself out of the grave and began to stumble through the darkness with only the dim light of the lantern to guide him to the water’s edge. His rescuer just leaned back on his hands and observed him, picking at the melted wax of Sara’s candle he had extinguished with the upheaval of dirt.
When Funks reached the same shoddy dock the funeral goers had left on he knelt down on it and peaked over the edge. The clouded sky opened up for a brief moment and the moonlight showed his face clearly reflected in the water. To his horror Funks saw half of his face permanently stained with red splatters and streaks that reached down to the collar and shoulder of his shirt. He slowly turned his head and saw the giant, open wound on the side. The split-second that he saw of the wound was enough to throw him into a heaving frenzy in the middle of the dock — but nothing came up.
When his body stopped shaking and his breathing had calmed, Funks wobbled to his feet and slowly made it back over to the man who had since moved into a cross legged position, his back arched as he rested his head in his hands.
“You…” Funks breathed out in a quivering voice, “who are you? what’s going on?”
The figure smiled, showing dingy yellow teeth.
“Well now I thought you’d never ask.”
He grabbed the lantern and stood up; his figure completely towered over Funks. The gravedigger extended a bony hand and introduced himself.
“My name is, well, more of a title than anything, but I’m called the CasiusBrutus; just Cas is fine between you and me.”
Funks hesitated but took his hand in a weak grip and shook it, quickly bringing his own arms into a crossed position in front of his chest and subtly wiping his hand on his shirt.
“You see, there’s no real pretty way to say it, kid,” Cas began, “but you see, well, you’re dead.”
The words hit Funks hard. Dead? There’s no way he could be dead! He was walking, he was breathing, he could feel and he could see and think…but there was that obvious physical wound on the side of his head that made his faith falter.
“But,” Funks protested, “I’m not some ghost! Ghosts – ghosts don’t exist! Look, see?” He jumped up and down, gravity bringing him onto his feet each time. “I’d be floatin’ around and wailing and booing if I was a ghost – right?”
Cas just laughed.
“You have the biggest case of denial I ever did see,” he chuckled. “Look, don’t go around believing what you hear from stories son. You’re an earthbound spirit, a sort of fae.”
There was that word again: fae. Fae this and fae that. Madame Sara had asked for a fae’s help in reading his mind, they blamed the fog on a fae — and he did hear something unnatural whisper to him and take down his assailants in the fog.
His faith in grounded, scientific reasoning began to falter oncemore, but he still couldn’t believe that all of this was happening to him.
“Well – well what exactly does that mean?” He perused in shaking words, “If I’m dead, why didn’t I get a door to the pearly gates or whatnot?”
“You see, when people suffer especially violent, gruesome deaths or taken before their time, there’s a mighty good chance of their souls not wanting on fly on up ‘til they’ve had their revenge, or ‘til they serve some greater purpose in their afterlife.”
“But, I don’t want revenge!” Funks disputed, “the men who –“ he swallowed the lump in his throat, “killed me,” the words came out forced – the boy still didn’t want to believe it. “Something else came out and got them, so I don’t want revenge!”
“Then you must have some greater purpose.”
“But what about Sparkles!”
“Who?”
“Sparkles. She was my dog. She got caught up in the same mess I did—“
Once more Cas laughed, waving his hand to dismiss Funks worries.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you,son? All dogs go to heaven!”
Funks just stood there in silence, not knowing what to do after that. He couldn’t tell if this Cas was being sarcastic or not. Funks opened his mouth to say something, but nothing would come out. His companion took that as an opportunity to speak more.
“Look, being a fae has its perks, you know,” he started, walking over to Funks grave and lowering himself in it. He closed the top half of the casket and Funks just watched him, gazing at his own peaceful face before it was covered up.
“Different faes have different abilities; unfortunately earthbound spirits are at the lower end of the list,” he continued, hoisting himself out again. Cas picked up his shovel and began to fill in the grave with the dirt he had churned up.
“You see, you think you’re breathing and that you feel a heartbeat in there, but it ain’t nothin’ but your mind playing tricks on you, to try and comfort you really, give yourself the illusion you’re still alive.”
Every shovel-full of dirt thrown into the hole made Funks wince.
“While you’re a spirit, you do have some sort of other, physical body, which is why you can grab things and why you come back down to earth when you give a jump. But you can’t stay like that, not in the public’s eye.”
“Well…Why not?”
Cas stopped shoveling and looked over to Funks in disbelief of what he really just asked.
“Kid, look at your head.”
Funks eyes turned up and he resisted the urge to touch the exposed wound.
“O-oh, right.”
Cas just scoffed and went back to shoveling.
“There are certain rules you’re going to have to follow. The first being you don’t reveal yourself to the public’s eye. Faes are creatures of secret; we run our operations from the dark and we don’t go scaring off the pants of humans – directly.”
“So…I’m just supposed to stay here in this dingy graveyard for the rest of my…well, whenever?” Funks asked.
“Now, now, don’t get ahead of yourself I ain’t done yet,” Cas insisted, “One of a spirit’s powers is to be able to turn themselves invisible, or even half if they want. When you’re completely untraceable to the eye you can move through solid objects. When you’re kind of ah, visible but still see through, you can do just the same but with more resistance. You’re also, if I am not mistaken, permitted to teleport here or there within a given area – you’re really lucky you died in the town’s alley, actually.”
Funks forehead crinkled, worried of the answer he’d get.
“How so?”
“Again, with brutal murders and such of the like, a spirit usually attaches its energy to an object or a place as an anchor. Say you were killed in your own house, your spirit would be anchored to the house and probably be trapped there and there only. But since you died with unfamiliar things around you, I reckon you’ve just done attached your soul to your own body. Given that I’d assume you can roam about the town and swamp with ease, but not much farther than that.”
Cas was all done with his chore, proceeding to pat down the dirt firmly into the ground with the spade of the shovel.
“Well…how do I do those things then? Like turn invisible and teleport?.”
Listening to himself say that made the kid feel crazy.
“Well shoot, I don’t know, do I look like a spirit to you? You’ve just gotta figure it out yourself. Purple did it, and she’s as dumb as a doorknob.”
“Purple?”
Cas paused for a moment, before looking behind him and placing two fingers in his mouth, giving out a sharp whistle. In seconds, sounds of little paws pattered on the ground and a black cat with a golden yellow bow made its way into the lantern light.
“What do you want you crummy ol’ top hat?” she hissed out in a shrill voice, sitting down right in front of them with a sneer. Funks dropped his jaw and just starred at her.
A talking cat, he thought.
A talking. Cat.
Forget being dead, Funks pondered for a moment if he had just been hit over the head by the muggers, suffered a concussion and was now dreaming the most vivid dream his mind could muster.
“And what’re you looking at, you sorry wreck?”
Funks stuttered before looking away, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.
“N-nothing, I’m sorry –“
“Ain’t got no backbone,” she cut in, “you don’t! You sure know how to pick them, top hat.”
“I don’t pick them, I just train them.”
“Yeah, and look where it got me, you dingy, tattered cloth! I haven’t seen no door to my peace since I got done in because of you!”
Cas didn’t seem to take any of this to heart.
“Well, if you would have stopped running around town with your severed head flappin’ in the breeze when I first warned you, maybe you wouldn’t be a beggar cat!”
She hissed.
“You didn’t let me have any freedom!”
“You would have had your freedom in a few weeks’ time if you just would have listened to me.”
Funks watched the argument go back and forth, unable to get a word in edge-wise. Finally Cas threw his hands in the air in a sign of defeat. He shooed Purple away with his hands and she took the gesture without a second thought. Funks watched her trot back off into the night, yipping about Funks and Cas being such a ‘stupid looking duo’.
“Charming, isn’t she?” Cas muttered.
“Very…lady-like,” Funks agreed.
Cas heaved a sigh and muttered something more about Purple, something unpleasant as far as Funks could tell, and began to walk forward past the graves.
“Come, walk with me,” he commanded, beckoning for his new protégé to follow him. Funks hesitated, looking at his own tombstone for a few moments longer. He bent down and touched the stone where his name was chiseled in. Though he could see his hand placed against the tombstone, though he could feel the pressure of two solid things uniting, Funks couldn’t feel the texture or the temperature of it at all. In fact, now that he thought of it, he couldn’t feel how hot or cold it was around him either. He began to choke up and tears well in his eyes. It was the oddest sensation and something about it combined with seeing the tombstone up close struck the reality cord.
This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a hallucination.
This was real.
Funks covered up his name and the years with the surrounding flowers. Standing up, he found he couldn’t move his eyes away from the site. The tears still stung him, demanding to be let loose, but he held them back. It was just his mind playing tricks on him anyways, to comfort him, he couldn’t actually cry anymore. The very thought shot through his mind and it made him want to scream and cry even more.
It was only when a sharp whistle echoed through the air that he snapped out of his trance and state of self-grieving.
Funks backed away from the grave and rubbed his face against the sleeve of his shirt. When he pulled back, he saw no wet marks where his overflowing eyes should have stained. One last time did he look at the graveyard, his tombstone, before he pulled his gaze away and turned around to catch up to his new mentor. He kept his eyes to the ground until he could pull together what little composure he had in him.
“I, with no doubt, know that you’ll spend a lot of time around town,” Cas began when Funks was by his side, “but believe me when I say you’ll seek solace in your fellow fae out here in the swamp from time to time. There are those you should feel welcomed to pester any time, those friendly folk like me and those I’ll introduce to you tomorrow – the tree-hangers are probably asleep right now anyways.”
Funks bit his tongue to keep him from immediately butting in and asking who those were.
“But there are those who are of malintent — to both humans and their own. Something’s been worrying me lately though, honestly. They usually prefer to stay by themselves, wandering and causing havoc on their own. They’re not that bad of a threat by themselves, but it seems as of late they’ve been…banning together, under one chief. I fear Lady Drust may be their lead.”
“Lady Drust?” Chester looked up. He couldn’t keep himself from interrupting any longer. That name just kept coming up.
“She’s supposed to be one of the nastiest, right? A girl with white skin and a pale blue eye and white hair and is always in a dress and has an eye patch with a ‘D’ over it? And that brings the fog in town?”
“Correct on all parts there, kid. In fact, a few days ago she swelled up one heck of a blinder that was so thick I swore I was breathing in water.”
Both were quiet after that, and Funks face grew increasingly worried.
“You got caught in the fog, didn’t you?” Cas began to put it together.
“I did. I got mugged by two larger men in the alleyway during the fog– they…they didn’t even have mercy on Sparkles.”
Funks gaze dropped back to his feet and he began to wring his hands together. Sparkles didn’t deserve to get caught up in the mess – he began to start pinning the blame on himself for both his and his dog’s demise. If only he hadn’t made a swing by to Sara’s place – if only he had listened to his mom’s advice.
Quietly, he continued.
“After that everything went black, but when I could still hear and feel, and I heard something come down from the roofs and tear those men apart. It…it hovered over me shortly after and whispered something, but I don’t remember what it was. After that it ran off.”
“Ahh, seems the Lady Drust got an eye on you.”
Cas stopped in his tracks and his beady eyes widened, simply blurting out, “That’s bad.”
“Wait, what’s going on?” Funks pressed further, confused. His mentor picked up his pace with twice the speed and Funks had to almost jog to keep up with him.
“She’s probably going to try and recruit you. You wouldn’t by chance know if she took something personal of yours when you were out, would you? That’s sort of her way of marking a target.”
A wave of sickness passed over Funks. Dear God, his skull. The thing in the fog had taken a part of his skull.
“Well that’s really of no matter,” Cas continued through the silence, “but what is important is that as you stand now you’re neutral. To the faes there’s the good and the bad: seelie and unseelie respectively. Most faes are born or made into their side but every once in a while we’ll get one who doesn’t know their alignment – sometimes it’s a fae who was raised in human care and never found out their powers until later in life, but more often than not it’s an earthbound spirit. In fact she even came after Purple when she was still a newborn ghost.”
“What…what happened?” Funks inquired. The memory of it all gave Cas a laugh.
“Oh she gave her more than she wanted to deal with. As soon as she approached her with the offer she nearly bit her head off with her words, spewing how ‘no demon’ would ever control her and take away her freedom. She’s real set on that, freedom. I think it was, still is, the same deal with me – she doesn’t like the idea that she has to do what I ask of her to find her peace, she wants to do it all on her own, her way. Ah but anyways, from what she told me she about tore her own head off to chuck at her. It was hilarious and gave her a good scare — she never bothered with her after that.”
Funks laughed along with him but it wasn’t long until his face dropped as he wondered how he’d deal with Lady Drust himself. The smile soon began to fade from Cas’s sunken-in face as well.
“I bet Sara told you to stay away from me and go to her shop, huh?”
Funks, while nearly tripped over the gnarled root of a tree. She did say that, didn’t she? Funks steps halted – he probably just made a huge mistake.
“Tch, well I see how good you are at following directions.”
In truth, Funks had completely forgotten about her words in the midst of his re-awakening. A sudden pit formed in his stomach, wondering if he had just made a terrible mistake running off into the depths of the woods with this decrepit fae.
“Well, don’t worry now, come on keep up, me and her are on the same team, she just doesn’t know it.”
“Oh?” questioned Funks with great uncertainty. He looked ahead at the seemingly endless stretch of darkened swampland before them as he started to follow once more. No matter how nice Cas seemed, it could all be a trap, but at the moment he had no other option but to follow – it was either that or get lost more than he already was.
“The folks around town have classified me as unseelie – as a bad fae. Those who have caught a glimpse of me are only backed up in their label by my appearance. They say I haunt the graveyard to snatch up and devour earthbound spirits such as you, which couldn’t be farther than the truth,” he explained.
“One, I have a life, as hard is that may seem, and I don’t spend my eternity crawling around grave sites. Two— well you’ve heard my deal. I help those lost souls find their purpose and ultimately their peace. Sae doesn’t usually believe gossip about faes till she or her pet has met the creatures themselves, but she stays leery anyways.”
Cas stopped mid-step, almost causing Funks to run into him. He raised the lantern up to illuminate their surroundings. There before them, sitting in a circular land mass bordered by a few weeping trees and black water, was a small stone cottage. It was circular itself and had moss and other vegetation creeping along it’s exterior.
“Welcome to your new home, kid. It’s not much, but the last seven or so earthbounders took up their residence here and it suited them well enough. Plus, it’s not like you’ll be needing a fancy kitchen or bathroom anyways.”
He moved forwards to the door and Funks followed; the latter was at a loss for words.
Inside there was nothing but a bed, a desk, a stuffed bookshelf, and a small table placed on an ornate rug. Everything was covered in a light layer of dust and three windows were carved into the sides with no glass pane to separate the outside air from the inside. Cas hung up the lantern on a small hook opposite the side of the bed, allowing just enough light to fill up the small space.
Funks sat on the bed and looked around once more, only to notice an unoccupied spiderweb on the slope of the roof. He shuttered as he imagined an eight-legged roommate.
“So what do you think?” His mentor exclaimed, outstretching his arms to encompass the one-roomed cottage.
“Honestly? I’m not all too sure.” Funks breathed out. He picked up his legs and tucked his knees to his chest, grasping them in an embrace and looking out the window at the foot of the bed. Through the moonlight’s clouded glow he could barely see that the swamp water extended out much farther than he originally thought, and he swore he saw something flicker in the middle of it.
“Well, that’s okay son, you’ve been through quite the deal! Tomorrow you’ll be in better spirits, I promise, once the shock wears off you’ll see how fun it can be to be in your position.”
Funks shot him a look of disbelief which made the man’s crooked yellow smile come out again.
“Have I steered you wrong yet? Look, spend some time tonight trying to figure out how to get yourself transparent, then take a trip into town tomorrow and visit Madame Sara to put her mind to ease. Might as well stop by Joe and Obby’s too – They’ve usually been the ones to stumble upon my clients, as luck would have it. Thank god the shaky one has a knack for sensing the paranormal or I’m not sure how many trapped souls they would have sold as stew by now.”
The images Funks mind produced made the stinging sensation of bile fester in his throat.
“Any more questions?”
“Can I…sleep?” Funks asked, swallowing the lump in his throat and gripping the dusty top sheet of the bed lightly.
“Sure! You might go mad otherwise. People always complain about there never being enough time in the day, but when time doesn’t affect you, you realize how bothersome it is. Just lie down, close your eyes, and your consciousness will slip away for a while. That’s what Purple tells me, anyways. She’s never passed out for more than a few hours, but it’s better than just…sitting there for that time. Anything else?”
“N-No, I’m fine.”
Funks dreary countenance didn’t help him in the least to convince Cas.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You know, forget about learning the tricks of being a ghost tonight. Get some rest and I’ll come back tomorrow to check on you.” He dipped into a low bow and slid out the door.
“Sweet dreams, kid.”
Funks didn’t move from his position until a thought struck him half a minute later. He bolted from the bed with a “wait!”, stumbling towards the door and pulling it open.
“You never finished telling me about Lady Dru—”
No one. There was no sight of the CasiusBrutus anywhere. Funks was alone, just he, the crickets, and the coos of the wildlife around him. He bit his lip and closed the door.
The windows made him feel terribly vulnerable but, what was the worse that could happen? Someone would creep through and kill him? Funks groaned and collapsed back on the bed, spreading out his arms and letting his hands fall limp off the side of the small mattress. His eyes transfixed themselves back on the spiderweb.
“So…Sparkles, Are you really up there?” He mused out loud. A small smile crept on his face and the stinging in his eyes returned.
“All dogs go to heaven, huh. I bet you’re up there with your own ma and pa, running around with an indestructible ball – you’d always tear up my old baseballs in a matter of seconds, ha-ha….Pa’d always yell at us for that…”
Funks bit his bottom lip and held back a hiccup of a sob. Ma, Pa, did they even know what happened to him and Sparkles? Did they even care? Well, he was sure his mom would, but Pa…It didn’t matter. At that moment he didn’t care who it was – he just wanted someone else in the room with him. To comfort him. To tell him it was okay. To be next to him as he woke up in his room, saying it was all a dream.
All he had instead was an empty stone cottage, the crickets, and the spider web to coo him to sleep.
Funks rolled over and curled up on his side. His vision blurred and he saw a drop fall from his face, a tear that had finally managed to escape. It fell towards the bed and kept going right through the sheets and left no trace of an impact – as if it had never existed at all.
Funks squeezed his eyes tight and thought about the sensation of sleeping, of wanting to just get away for as long as he could from this living nightmare. As soon as he felt himself begin to slip he uttered a small “good night”. He always would say that every night to Sparkles just before he drifted off, it only seemed right to keep continuing it.
There was a scampering outside and the sound of a Dress dragging in the grass. Little taps of fingers scuttered up the side of the cottage wall and pulled a mass into the open window. It lingered above the quietly passed out spirit.
“Good night.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hmm.. So what do you guys think? P lease please please please please please comment on what you think i should write about next and yes i am typing this up in bold italics because its sexy and i like it ¬w¬   Splashy… You win this round… UNTIL NEXT TIME!!!

LoveYouLotsLikeJellyTots<3

~Suzie/Drust

Blue: Joee will be taking one of the spots as a permanent writer and also as a graphics designer. Splashy, he’s done great on CPAC, so I figured no application would be necessary. Welcome to CPASC, Joee.

Hello CPASC

Today, we’re here to discuss several things. Mainly, changes here at CPASC. Recently there was a scandal here at CPASC, plotting the attempted overthrowal of my Co-Head Bluesockwa1. And yes, this overthrowal was plotted by myself. But, Blue1 has forgiven me and we have made quite a few changes already.

The first of those, is staff changes. Firstly, the CPAC Representative position was removed. This is simply because the CPAC Representatives, especially Bluesockwa2, were taking advantage of their position. The CPAC Representative position was created so the staff of CPASC could consult the CPAC Representatives if any help was required. Also, with other staff changes, myself was promoted to Co-Head with Bluesockwa1, Drust was promoted to Secondary Head, Becca stayed in her current position as Head Writer, and there were several staff removed. Becca, if you’re wondering why you weren’t promoted to Secondary Head instead of Drust, this is because you wasn’t on chat at the time of these occurances, at least according to Blue1. We have also removed all the inactive staff, and there will be Staff Applications below.

In other news, CPASC and CPAC are no longer affiliated. This is mainly because of the problems caused with the CPAC Representative position, and problems between Blue1, Blue2 & Kingfunks4. This means, CPAC no longer have any control over CPASC. And, unless these problems are resolved, and Blue1 decides to bring back the CPAC Representative position, it is now null and void.

So, here are the applications. We currently have 3 full-time positions available, and 2 trial positions available. We will decide the full time writers and the trial writers on this simple system:

We are going to chose 5 of the best applications (if there are that many). We (we being myself, Blue1 and possibly Drust) will then proceed to evaluate the 5 chosen ones, and rate them on a 5 star rating system. 5 stars is excellent, 1 star is terrible. The 3 applicants who get 4 or 5 stars will become the full time writers, whereas the remaining 2 who get under 4 will be the trial writers. The trial writers will have from when we close the applications, which will be determined at the bottom of the post, to the evaluation process is over, which will also be determined at the bottom of the post.

Or, if we get less than 4 applicants, all of those applicants will be on trial. We will watch over you for a short while, and then make a staff evaluation post determining the full time writers, and those who are fired. And Klug, if you’re reading, please post a comment, any random comment, and we’ll add you to the site. So, here’s the form:

Name:

WordPress Name:

Reasons for wanting to work at CPASC:

Army experience:

Example post:

The example post will preferably be on a seperate, unused site, probably a personal site for your usage. Please refrain from writing an example post in the comments. The example post should be 500-655 words, no less, no more.Thank you.

We will also be working on site updates, such as new GFX, and maybe a Xat chat. Thank you, once again.

The application process will end on Friday, 25th May 2012 at 11:59pm CST. The evaluation process will end on Sunday, 27th May 2012 at 11:59pm CST. You have, from Monday 21st May 2012, 4 full days to enter. Good luck.

Sir Bluesockwa the 1st

Sir Splashy