RCM Fanfic - Varyar: Da Bark Lurd Saga Episode 7

Moderator: JLMcCafferty

RCM Fanfic - Varyar: Da Bark Lurd Saga Episode 7

Postby JLMcCafferty » Sat Dec 13, 2014 12:55 pm

@image http://media.rivalcastmedia.com/staff/writing-team/public/images/stories/da-bark-lurd-saga/JPG_file_DBLLogo.jpg

EPISODE 7, in which you'd better go to the bathroom before reading because a LOT of stuff happens

With a quiet groan, Bio finally started to come to. The back of his head was throbbing like he’d been hit with a bat or something. He tried to raise his hand to his head, but it wasn’t until he felt the ropes tying his wrists to the chair that he struggled to open his eyes. The room was sideways – no, wait, he realized, he was sideways. Sideways and lying against a cold cement floor while tied to a chair. At some point his glasses had slid off, so the room surrounding him had a blurry, dream-like feel. Where was he? How did he get there? As he squinted into the dim lighting, trying to pick out some object, anything to help him get his bearings. He tried to think through the pain to the last thing he remembered.

He’d been at his desk, working on his latest article for the Rivalcast main page. An email came in through his RCM account. He opened the message…what had it been? A picture? Think, Bio, he muttered to himself. He remembered a lot of red. Was the picture red? He couldn’t be sure, the pain was intruding on his thoughts. Now he understood what the Baroness went through with her migraines.

The Baroness.

Something clicked in the back of his mind. Something about Baroness. What was it? He remembered turning off the monitor, but the picture was still there, reflected in the screen. He remembered a laugh – an evil laugh. Suddenly he remembered everything.

“Oh dear.” Bio’s voice sounded small in the acoustics of the room, so he guessed he was in a fairly large workshop of some kind. He gave a tug at his bindings – there was just enough give to maneuver his hand to his pocket. His heart gave a little leap of thanks that his cell phone was still intact, and as he tried to work it out enough to dial Bio prayed there would be enough juice left in the battery to get out a distress call. But before he could dial a number, out of the corner of his eye Bio saw movement coming towards him.

As he tried to turn his head to get a clearer view, he realized with a shudder that it was red, furry, and really pissed.


Edge was awake and scrolling through messages when he heard the Baroness’s car come up the drive a bit more quickly than he’d think safe. As the garage door opened, the sound of Vampy’s oven-timer went off amongst a clatter of pans and the wafting scent of ranger cookies. Breakfast must be ready. He briefly considered waking Baron up, but given the ferocity with which the man protected his couch the night before, Edge wasn’t sure he wanted to share the deliciousness Vampy was sliding out of the oven. Especially after he’d discovered the air mattress the Baroness had prepped for him in their guest room happened to be the favorite place for their cats to dive-bomb one another at four in the morning. He was hungry, he was exhausted, and fuck it – let Baron have the couch, he was going to eat all the cookies.

He stretched, trying to shake the lethargy of last night’s drive out of his limbs as he joined Vampy at the kitchen table. She, too, had come out of her Vampy-hole to head east for their friend and was picking at a muffin when a grinning Baroness and a pale Hax came in from the garage. Edge nodded at Hax before addressing the Baroness:

“That little fucker was posting taunts to your Twitter again.”

Baroness groaned. “Again? This is just irritating. My candidate didn’t win the Lord of Terror election, either, so I really don’t get what his issue is.”

“Question though,” Vampy’s Southern accent was even more pronounced in her sleepiness, “what was this I heard about a possum in a mailbox?”

“Oh, that.” Baroness rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t even mad until I realized it was stamped postage-due. He thought he could scare me, but I just dressed the thing up in a little hat, stuck a martini glass in its cold, dead claws, and set myself up an Instagram account.”

Never quite sure how to respond to Baroness’s unique ways of dealing with the world, Edge just shook his head and went to grab a diet Pepsi from the fridge. It was going to be a long day.


“It is about fucking time,” Varyar grumbled some time later as he heard Lyserg’s engine roaring from the other side of the still-smoldering remains of the chopper. Nudging Arnold awake, he stood and squinted through the smoke as he waited impatiently for the car to come into view. A moment later, a flash of silver rounded the corner and sped up the street, screeching to a halt just in front of Varyar’s disapproving gaze. Killer bounded out from the passenger’s side wearing a bronze-colored chest plate and a Roman Legionnaire’s helmet, sporting a grin as wide as the Oklahoma panhandle he’d just driven up from.

“Battle buddies Killer and Lyserg, reporting for duty, sir!” he saluted.

“First of all, fuck you. Battle buddies was our thing. Second, are you fucking kidding me?” Varyar stared as Lyserg emerged from the driver’s seat. “A MINI?! Where the fuck are we gonna SIT?!”

“It’s surprisingly roomy,” Lyserg drawled. “Lots of leg room.”

“Not with a fucking ARSENAL in it!” Varyar rounded the vehicle, not deigning to guess how many weapons these two had managed to stockpile inside the car. “Did you guys leave ANYTHING at home?”

Killer frowned, exchanging looks with an obviously confused Lyserg. “Yes.”

Varyar drew a deep breath, exasperatedly running a hand through his hair as he tried to think. “We need…” They couldn’t leave any of the guns behind; for one thing, there was a neighborhood playground just across from Bio’s house, so abandoning weapons would be irresponsible. For another, they weren’t sure what sort of forces da Bark Lurd had at his disposal, or why black Elmos were appearing at crime scenes. A calling card, perhaps? Extra firepower could be very useful. Regardless, they needed to get back to RCM headquarters as soon as possible. What they needed was some sort of makeshift trailer…

Just then, a neighborhood child strolled down the street pulling a little red wagon. Varyar snapped his fingers and pointed. “Yes. We need that wagon. Killer, go get me that wagon.”


Arnold looked appalled. “You are going to steal a toy from a child?”

“Not steal,” Varyar corrected. “Barter with to obtain. What do we have?”

Lyserg checked his pockets. “I have a nickel and half a stick of gum.”

“I have a hand grenade and a photo of my twin brother,” Arnold added.

Killer patted his sides. “I have no pockets.”

“And I have a five dollar gift card to Play It Again Sports. We might have something here he wants.”

The other three weren’t so sure.


“You did what? Really?”

From his spot on the floor, Edge looked up at Baroness’s confused face as she talked to Varyar over her cell. The sun was low in the western sky, the bay window allowing the remaining daylight to cast her expression in a pinkish hue as she continued the conversation. Over on the couch, Vampy snoozed lightly, her favorite gun under her pillow. He still wasn’t sure why Vampy was allowed on the couch and he wasn’t, but he was too tired to dwell on it. Though he had tried napping throughout the day, Calvin and Hobbes seemed to have accepted him as one of their own and any attempts at sleep were interrupted by a cacophony of meowing. Part of him wanted to kick them, but their furry little faces were just too damned cute. Just thinking about it, Edge felt a slight flutter of something forgotten in the deep recesses of his soul – either he was starting to feel affection for the little assholes, or the chimichangas they had when they went for lunch earlier were giving him heartburn. Either thought made him cranky.

“That’s…creative. Just don’t get anyone killed. Yeah. Morning? I’ll let them know. Be safe.” Baroness hit the end button and looked back at Edge, shaking her head as he waited for her to gather her thoughts. “I’m confused here, but somehow they traded a Roman Legionnaire’s helmet to a seven-year old for a wagon, which is now duct-taped to the back of a Mini, and Arnold Schwarzenegger is riding in it. There…there are no words…”

“Well this is interesting.” At the table across the room, Hax clinked his teacup down on its saucer and spun the laptop around toward the others. “Edge, did you see these emails?”

“Which ones?” he asked, heaving himself off the floor.

“The ones between Bio and the Cult of Sesame Street. Remember, he did some editing work on some of their campaign advertisements during the Lord of Terror elections? The email correspondence was in his RCM account. Apparently –“ Hax glanced over at the Baroness as Edge clicked back to the beginning of the thread and started quickly scanning through the messages on the screen – “there was some disagreement between our friend and the Cult. I haven’t read through all of the messages yet, just some of the newer ones, but whatever it was he seemed to be very emphatic about in his responses.” He watched Baroness’s face grow pale as she read over Edge’s shoulder, her blue eyes widening at each line before she let out a hushed “oh gawd.”

“Holy shit.” As Edge squinted hard at the screen, the events of Bio’s abduction started to play out in his mind. It had started with an email referencing a gift being sent to Bio by private messenger for his ‘cooperation in silencing voices in opposition to the Cult’s campaign – specifically, The Baroness.’ When Bio sent a refusal back with the ‘gift’, citing the duality of his personal ethics and his friendship with the persons in question, the messages started getting ever more hostile, eventually escalating to threats of violence and screen shots of his home, workplace, and personal information being put out on all the seediest troll hubs of the internet.

“That furry little asshole.” Edge slammed his fist on the table in frustration.

Hax sighed, taking a sip of his tea as he thought through this new information. “So, basically, Arnold was mistaken in his assumption that the Bark Lurd had anything to do with Bio’s disappearance, and it’s been Elmo the entire time.” He pondered a moment. “Bio was harassed and abducted for standing up for a lady? See, Edge, chivalry is not dead.”

“Well, chivalry will be dead soon if we don’t figure out how to rescue him.”

He hadn’t noticed the Baroness growing deathly quiet as they pored over the emails; he was too busy reading and re-reading the emails in between ignoring the private message pings Timmos kept sending. Damn it, did this guy not realize their friend was missing and maybe, just maybe, he did NOT want to look at porn links right now? Edge quit the lappy out of all communication programs – they all needed to think.

The haunted look never leaving her eyes, Baroness silently slipped out into the shadows.

Thoughts? Comments? Hate mail? Get the conversation started on the comments thread below or @BaronessvGosu on the Tweeter

Crap, what happened last time? On to the next episode!
Thoughts? Comments? Hate mail? Get the conversation started on the comments thread below, by email at jen.mccafferty@rivalcastmedia.com, or @BaronessvGosu on the Tweeter
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