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AN ORIGINAL STORY: Cover-Up Delivery

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This is an original idea I cooked up that I plan to publish as a YA book series. I would like creative criticism. It will be produced it about... eight years, give or take. So... yeah. It's long.



Tuesday, September 7th[/align]



Joe, the Reptoid and Grey alien species mutt, stared at a broken down bakery called the “Old-Fashioned Bakery”. (A reptoid is a large, bulky, dinosar-like alien which comes in such shades as yellow, blue and red. A grey alien closely resembles the species examined in Roswell, New Mexico during that particular incident... They have large heads and eyes, rather small bodies and three fingers on each hand. Nifty.) The short, yellow, armless… thing… in a cap and jacket… looked around the street. This was the only old-timey store around. This is the year 1,704,352 AD, just so you know. Joe held up his leg and a screen projected from a microchip embedded at birth. It would be in an arm he didn’t have… but, you know.


The classifieds section of the newspaper hovered before him and he double-checked the building number to the one he was looking for. ‘Courier needed. 34751 Zaran St. Good Pay!’ It was an incredibly small blurb that most people would have never noticed, so there was a good chance that nobody else got to see it. “Good pay is worth anything,” Bob said to nobody in particular. “Especially if you’ve been fired six times after dropping out of college.”

“Ha, loser!” yelled a dude in a red hoodie.

“YOU’RE THE—you’re right.” Joe stared at his feet and then into the sky, at the sun(nearly blocked by the gargantuan cylindrical towers holding up the faux sky/second layer of Earth in the atmosphere). “I can do this, seven’s a lucky number.” Taking a big, deep breath, Joe scuffled over to the rusty door and pulled on the handle with the extendable, elongated tongue of his. The door opened and a decrepit bakery opened up to him. A clean door in the back of the main room sported an ‘Enter’ sign.


Shrugging, he opened the second door in a similar fashion to the first and walked up the following, shiny stairwell. At the end of the path was one last door, leading to… a fish in a black wetsuit and a water-bowl helmet. “Uh…” Joe stared at him for a moment.

“Who’re you?” the fish asked in a surprisingly manly voice. Joe noticed that an exclamation point was on his suit for some reason.

“I’m some guy looking for a job?”

The fish sighed, then smiled. “I’m Rolfe.” Several aliens living on Earth had English names because they thought it would promote fitting-in. “I’ll take you to the boss.” The building now looked very, blindingly white with boxes lying about randomly. There was a long hallway going past a few doors, and a lounge area with a few comfy couches and a multi-colored glowing floor, for some reason.

“I’m Joe.” Joe said.

“Nice to meet you. Now meet Selene.” Rolfe knocked on a door with his foot (fish don’t have arms) and it slid open. A bubbly woman with purple hair ending in six distinct curls peeked out. She wore a fashionable secretary-like top and a long skirt, both were grey, but her top also had a matching exclamation point to Rolfe. She didn’t have ears or a nose, but that’s due to her mixed race of Grey and Human.


“Rolfe, what’s up?” she asked. “I’m working.”

“We have a new courier, possibly.” He beamed.

“Oh, he’s DEFINETLY in.” She bent down to the short Joe and shook hands… or feet. “I’m Selene, it’s a pleasure to be working with you.”

“I’m Joe. Thanks.”

Rolfe pushed him a bit. “Sorry, let’s go. Not good to disturb Plato’s naps. See you, Selene.” Selene closed to door and got back to her (secretary) job.


“Plato?” Joe inquired. Rolfe just pushed him along. On the way they passed by another young woman, this one presumably in her twenties and rather depressing-looking. She resembled the last lady in a nose-and-ear sort of way. She wore a black vest (with “!” on it of course) and a frilly, purple shirt, and a skirt, skin-tight black pants and purple pumps. She wore semi-heavy mascara and her purple hair was brightened up by two heart hair clips. She was sitting on a red couch, reading a book.

“Hey, Cleo.” Rolfe saluted.

Cleo looked up. “Oh, hey. Who’s the newbie? The delivery boy we ordered?”

“I’m Joe. Nice to meet you.” He introduced.

“I’m Cleopatra, call me Cleo.” She offered to shake hands… but then she saw that he possessed no such things. Instead she bent down and gave him a hug. Joe blushed.

“Eh, thanks. I… need a job interview so I gotta go.” Joe broke free and rushed off with Rolfe. Cleo shrugged and opened up her book again.




The duo passed by such rooms as ‘Storage’, ‘Customer Services’ and the ever-lovely ‘Bathrooms’. One that caught Joe’s eye was ‘Jeremy’s Room’. “Who’s Jeremy?”

“Plato’s pet. Don’t ask.” Lastly was ‘Company President, Plato Arzhkan, CEO, DDS, PHD.’ “Here he is, and FYI, I’m in charge of making sure of where all the parcels are.”

Everywhere, apparently, Joe thought. “So I just walk in?”

“Yep.” Rolfe pushed him inside the door. There was some sort of red dragon man wearing the ‘company uniform’ sleeping at his desk.

‘It’s not good to disturb Plato’s naps.’ Joe stared at the beast for a few minutes in a state of pure terror. Is THIS my employer? He’s… a… monster? No, ‘exotic’ alien? Joe examined the room instead. The redwood desk was in pristine condition and had a few useless toy figurines sitting idly. There was a moose head mounted on the wall… with three eyes. A picture of a sunset radiantly glowed near a bookshelf full of books in unreadable languages and a large music player model “Roruz X-54”. A skylight was letting in the sight of a sky plagued with airships and holes into the next layer of Earth (the first artificial layer, made when the first “foreigners” came to the world several thousand years ago). A single window allowed him to look out upon the disgusting slums. No matter how poor the area you were in was, the city was full of buildings at almost the same height. Their previously platinum hides had been stained with dust and graffiti.


Joe got bored and sat down. He took out his leg again and opened up the news on the floating screen he held. He began scrolling through news stories with his mind. How long will I be up here? He asked himself. Do I really want this job? Will I be afraid of my boss… again? No. I HAVE to get this job! I can’t burden my parents any longer! I’m gonna GET this job and GET an apartment, and GET a LIFE!!


“What?” Joe slowly focused on Plato the dragon. “What did you just say?”

I SAID IT OUT LOUD!!! Joe was sweating all over the floor. “Um, I’m here for a job interview…”

“WHAT?!?!” Plato was literally on fire! He raised his right arm. The hand was replaced with a FULL-SIZED SWORD!!

“I CAME HERE TO GET A JOB, DARN IT! AND I’LL BE DAMNED IF YOU TRY TO STOP ME!!” Joe had no time to come to his senses and shut himself up. But it was too late. His life flashed before himself in the sword’s reflection. Would he die here?

“Hm…” The dragon quenched his fire with his mere mind and sat back down in his chair. ”So you’ve got guts, kid. I like that. So you came for the ad, huh?”


“Wait.” Joe’s heart skipped a beat. “So I’m not dead?”

“Ha ha! No!” Plato the dragon laughed! “You passed the guts test. Now can you do somethin’ else for me?”

“Yes, sir,” Joe respectfully answered.

“Well, what skills can you bring to the table?” Joe thought about his personal “replacement arm”. He stuck out his unusually long tongue. He used it to grip and tip his cap.


“WA~hahaha!” Plato roared with laughter! “Now THAT is a psychic power!!” What did he say? Psychic?! “What’s with the face, kid?” Joe’s face had turned blank and confused-looking. “Oh, you didn’t know you were a psychic?”


WHAT THE HELL IS HE TALKING ABOUT?!?! PSYCHICS?! “Excuse me sir,” Joe said in a really cool voice, “But I, however, am not a psychic. I am half-Reptiod and half-Grey as well, because of my mother. But I have no psychic abilities, and that is the truth.”

Plato put his arm around Joe’s thin-but-meaty neck. “Joe, the thing that proves this fact first of all, is that Selene, my beautiful secretary, used some of her OWN powers to hide the advertisement you saw with a, er, special form of energy. If you weren’t a psychic, you’d have seen a fish stick ad.


Meanwhile... Selene picked up a phone inside of her small office cubicle, painted yellow, furnished with a swivel chair and stacks of forms waiting to be filled out, and not to mention three phones. “Hello. This is Selene of Cover-Up Delivery services, how may I help you... one moment please.” Rolfe was standing in the doorway.

“Selene,” his manly voice boomed, “Plato’s almost done. It’s a positive on this guy, so finish up.”
“Okaay, just wait a sec.” Her eyes flashed. Three’s Company!! Activate! She instantly split into three people, all working on different, important assignments. Such as paperwork and answering the phone. “Alright, thanks for holding. What can we try to help you with today?”


“How does that relate to THAT?” Joe asked, watching Selene with Plato via security camera on their Birth Screen microchips.

“She’s special. Well anyways, all I was saying earlier is that she hid the ad so people with your skills could see it, whether you’re born with it or not. Not every psychic just moves stuff around.”

“Okay...” Joe stood there for a moment, feeling quite awkward. He looked at the moose head and quickly averted his vision in fear.

“So Joe,” Plato asked after a whole minute of silence, “Would you be okay working today?”

“Fine. That’s fine.”

“Okay then.” Plato patted his back a bit. “Now get outta here ‘till Bob ‘n Bill get here.”

“Bob and Bill?” Joe repeated.

“Yep,” Plato groaned, stretching on his chair and pulling up a sitcom on his Birth Screen. “I hired them just for their names. Isn’t that great?”






Joe approached one of the couches I mentioned earlier and sat peacefully. Then the other workers jumped out from behind the furniture and bombarded the area with confetti!


“Congrats!” Rolfe congratulated. Selene wouldn’t stop blowing into a party horn and Cleo wouldn’t stop tossing confetti around.

“You’re in the big leagues now!”

“Uh thanks, everybody, but what’s up with this? Why are you standing behind a couch drizzling confetti on me?”
Cleo immediately stopped the confetti shower and took out a contract from behind her back. “We always do this with new members!” she smiled! Selene, who wouldn’t stop with the annoying party horn, handed him a pen and he blindly signed it with his tongue.

“Neat tongue!”
 “Uh, thanks?”

A Human at about Cleo’s age group approached from the entrance door. “You’ve just signed a contract binding you to a dangerous job once a week,” he announced. “All injuries will be paid for, but we’re not responsible for death.”


The stranger had a downward semi-spiky hairstyle down each side of his head in a light brown color. He wore a black t-shirt with the ‘!’ mark on it under a plaid button-up shirt. He also wore khaki pants and black hiking shoes.

“I’m Squalo, your partner with Cleo. Plato just called to give me the info. Welcome, Steve, buddy.”

“I’m Joe,”

“Argh, sorry.” Why’re all the people here so young, Joe asked himself. I mean, I’m not one to talk, but I guess that we all just want money. And older people are smart enough to realize how bad this job is, so I’m an idiot. DANG!


Cleo approached Squalo. “So I expect BnB to be right behind you, right?”

“BnB?” Joe whispered to Rolfe.

“Bob and Bill. They bring packages over to us so that we can deliver them.”

“Yeah, we’re here!” A green, simplistic looking goblin-dude and an orange puffball in full uniform entered the floor. The puff was holding a small, rectangular, book-ish parcel.

“The gang’s all here!” Squalo cheered! Meanwhile Joe was trying to figure out which one was Bob.


Selene approached a button on the wall and smacked it! “We’re ready!” she cheered! All of the lights, except for those in the floor, instantly went dark. A purple screen appeared and featured Plato in his office.

“Hey, Plato!” everybody greeted.

“Uh, hey...” Joe sighed in despair.

“Hey, everyone. So Bob and Bill delivered the book?” Plato asked.

“Just so you know, I’m Bob.” announced the goblin-dude to Joe.

“Yeah, it’s here.”

“Good.” Plato held up a picture of a black book embossed with silver decorative spirals and the word ‘PERVIDI’ in practically ancient print, yet in near-mint condition. “This book, written WAY before we used AV and supposedly before AD (AV means After Visit. Alien visitors! The year in AD was given at the start of the story, but in AV the year is about 1,703,128 ). It’s written in a LONG-dead language called language and is considered to be the last of the Twelve Forbidden Spell Books in existance.”


Joe raised his tongue. “Uh, Twelve Forbidden Spell Books?”

“Yeah,” Plato quickly responded, “They’re well-known in the Psychic community. They had an entire issue of ‘Psycho Buster’ magazine dedicated to them about four months ago, so we had to pay a lot in order to get our hands on it. But it’s worth it.” A ‘ka-ching’ sound could be heard in the background. Plato’s on-screen face stared at Selene, who hurriedly turned off the “Sound-Effect Generator” setting on her Birth Screen.

“ANYWAYS... the book is to be delivered to a small library on Mono Street. You can’t miss it, it’s on one of the more ‘green’ spaces in the city. That’s all.”

“WAIT!!” Joe cried! “I just joined! Do I HAVE to go? This IS my first day, you know.”

“Well, yeah. You signed the contract, right?” Plato pointed to the paper with Joe’s signature on it inside Rolfe’s foot’s clutch. Joe fell face-first onto the floor and the screen faded away.


“So how long’ll this take, ya think?” the poor, yellow guy asked from the ground as the lights vibrantly returned.

“Oh, maybe three hours.” Squalo answered.
 “Give or take,” Cleo added.

“Stay safe!” Rolfe ordered.




“And here’s our ride!” The hidden garage stationed in the disgustingly dirty alley behind the bakery opened... to reveal three sad-looking scooters with motors attached.

“Is this a joke? They expect us to ride around the city on scooters?”
 “Every week,” Cleo said, placing a helmet atop Joe’s cap. She and Squalo already were sporting theirs. They were standard red with the oddly-shaped holes on the top, like today’s helemets. How technological. Why didn’t I see them putting those helmets on? I only looked away for a split second--who gives a damn anymore. Joe just decided to stop asking himself questions at that point.

“But why? Just why? Who would choose scooters?”

“Well,” Squalo began, placing the demonic book into a backpack that seemingly popped up onto his back with no available explanation... “It’s a long story.” Squalo and Cleo stepped onto their painfully wimpy rides and Joe gripped the handlebars with his teeth. They revved up the handles and drove onto the streets. As the slums transformed into metropolitan city streets, a soft dusk breeze soothed the trio.

Y’know, Joe decided, I guess I wouldn’t mind doing this every week. Hm, that’s odd... “Why do we work only once a week?” A couple of cars, floating inches off of the ground, passed by and turned onto ‘Chameleo Drive’.


“Cleo, allow me,” Squalo intervened. “I wanted to to tell’m about this. I DID hint it a lot, you know.” The scooters smoothly stopped in front of a crimson traffic barrier that suddenly summoned itself, acting out the job of a red light. Several cars lazily flew by ahead of the young couriers.


“One reason we work once a week is because we need the time to recover. This is demanding work. Most weeks, a fight is involved. Another reason is that Plato has a rather large staff working. It rotates people each day, and we all get one job a week. It’s a simple system that helps keep down casualties.”


Cleo cleared her throat. “Plato has six sets of workers, except Selene and Rolfe, and they both work six days a week. People in this line of work die often.”

“Wh-wha?” The traffic signal barriers changed from a deep red to a soft purple for a few seconds, then teleported to the other roads to allow the scooters to pass.

“You’re a replacement for Morteau, who died about five months back. We’re done mourning and over it now, so you were hired. In fact about three people have died this year alone. If we all worked together normally, the emotional strain would be crippling.

“So if you die tonight, nobody’ll care. If you live and give a good impression, we’ll protect you like family.” Joe stared at the false starry sky above, just an illusion stretched across the shell of the earth. So noobs don’t matter here, huh? I’ll just have to do something that really grabs’m.




The trio slowly careened toward a ‘present-day’ library in the less populated section of the town. Several trees lined the neighborhoods and a school was located two blocks away. Fall was just starting to affect the trees and such. “This is it,” Cleo said, checking the address on her Birth Screen. EVERYBODY HAS ONE, JUST TO REMIND YOU. Joe leaped off his scooter and laid on the ground. He inspected a glowing, green sign, the only futuristic thing near the ancient library building.

“So this is the ‘Placido Milano Library’, built in about... wow, 3254 AV. This place is a standing relic. The other two dropped their scooters near Joe’s and Squalo took the wrapped book out of his backpack, gripping tightly.

“Let’s get this over with.”


The old-timey smell of leather-bound books greeted the delivery service as they entered the library. A man with a monocle and a thin mustache was sleeping inside of a round information desk. They semi-cautiously approached the bald, mid-height man, marveling at books made as early as the 47th century lining the brown chrome bookshelves(the color was designed to give the place an old, nostalgic feeling). The sheer numbers of shelves seemed to suffocate Joe, although there was a quaint reading desk area and computer hubs stationed around the establishment.

“Sir?” whispered Joe.

“Eh, hm?” The man straightened his monocle, stood up, and pulled out a green bowler hat. The hat seemed to complete his ensemble constructed of a green suit and pants combo. “Oh, hello. I suppose you’re the delivery boys I requested--oh, and woman as well, sorry about that.” He had an Italian accent, though you couldn’t say he looked like it. “Please, make yourselves at home.” He motioned to one of the reading tables covered in books not too far off. There were two chairs.

“Where do I sit...?” Joe pathetically groaned.

“I’ll stand,” Squalo shrugged.

“Thanks, Squalo.” They ‘made themselves comfortable’ and studied book names such as ‘A Complete History of Rushabeli, Vol. 3’ and ‘Da New Kid in Town’.


“Do have some tea, please.” The man carried a tray to the table covered with cups of healthy, green tea.

“‘Tea’?” Cleo asked(just as Joe was ready to). “Please excuse my asking, but I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Green tea is a drink from the Asian continent made from brewing herbal leaves in hot water. Don’t ask me how I learned that tidbit. Just enjoy the fact you’re enjoying a drink just as much as it was millenia ago by people just like...” His eyes darted around the room. There was just one human. “Well, like you, anyway. Heh.”

“I’m special,” Squalo said. He looked at a bookcase and focused on a book with an emerald set into the cover. Wow, what a valuable book...

Cleo sipped her drink quietly. “So, mister...”

“Placido Milano.”

“Mmm, so your ancestor built this place.” she figured.


“I have your book right here.” Squalo placed the evil book onto the table, unwrapping it free of charge. “We need payment before we can hand it over, though. We agreed on 50,000. How does a librarian get ahold of that kind of money?”

“Let’s just say that I’ve gotten my share of donations.”Milano took out a SEVERELY out-of-date cell phone and pressed some buttons, wiring C50,000(credits are the universal unit of currency now) into Plato’s bank account instantly. That’s an old phone, everybody thought at the same time. Kinda weird, thinking like that at the same moment. ANYWAYS...


People haven’t been using those for generations, Joe continued, Birth Screens were introduced about four centuries ago. So why doesn’t HE have one? “One last question, sir.” Cleo’s eyes went cold. “Why do you need a book like this?”

Milano’s eyes narrowed as well. “All I asked for was a book. I DID NOT ask for you to interrogate me.”

“Please just tell us. What would we do if you wanted to, say, slaughter people with this?” Cleo’s fingers tapped the cover tantalizingly.

“Is it illegal to own a rare book collection upstairs?” He pointed to a staircase by the wall. “Now could you please hand me the goods I have just paid you for?”

“Alright, you met our terms, and we’re sorry for any inconveniences.”

“I hope you are. Now please leave.” Milano snatched the volume out of Cleo’s clutches and retreated towards a room marked ‘Staff Only!’.

“Wow, that was tense,” said Joe.

“Just wait,” Squalo grinned, “By the end of the night, your meaning of ‘tense’ will completely change.”




The gang stood outside in the crisp, September air, brown and gold leaves blowing through the night. Joe was the only one struggling to attach his helmet straps using his feet. And failing. “So... can anybody tell me why we’re standing out here for no apparent reason?”

“Didn’t you think he was awfully suspicious?” Cleo enquired.

“And did you hear my ‘tense’ hint?”

“Well, maybe?” Joe half-heartedly agreed.

Cleo held up two fingers. “That bastard lied to us TWICE. Once when we asked him where he got the money, and once more when I drilled him over the book.”

“How do you know?” Joe challenged.

“Easy,” Cleo answered. “I’ve trained myself to be a prime negotiator in times like this. I can notice small twitches in neck blood vessels invisible to most people. When it twitches, just the tiniest bit in the right direction, they’re trying to fool you.” She held out her Birth Screen and set a 20-minute timer. “In our past experiences, most people go crazy with their newfound power in under a half-hour. And this sick guy isn’t capable of waiting that long.”

“So we just sit here?”



Joe sat on the grass and stared into the sky again. “Why do you guys enjoy this line of work?”

Cleo spoke first.

“I love the people who work here. I’ve been working here for five years after dropping out of school.”

“You just go on and announce that to a stranger?” Joe gasped!

“Meh. I don’t really care.” Joe slowly smiled. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Just like me,” Joe sighed. “I dropped out like you, but you have brains and beauty on YOUR side. I just have a freaky tongue and crappy luck. And on top of that, I’ve been fired six times already.” Cleo stared at him for a moment, then turned away and grasped her arm.

“And why did you decide to spill your story yourself?”

“‘Cause I actually dropped out of College, so I’m still superior to you,” Joe smiled. “Not really, I just thought we could bond faster that way.”



The yellow dino nudged Squalo. “And what’s your story?” Squalo took a silver chain from his pocket, crafted from seven links. Five gems colored to correspond with the rainbow(save for green and orange)were embedded inside each hole between links.

“This thing here is my treasure,” Squalo began. “My dad gave me this after he died of Chronitis(An infamously rare disease where the afflicted age a year every day usually contracted from planet Aroy). It used to be complete, and it was emptied when I hit... a rough spot. Then Plato, an old friend ‘o mine helped me get out of my slump and I’ve been working with him since ‘104.” Joe was speechless for a minute.


“Y-y-y-you look like a teenager.”Joe stammered. “You’ve been working with Plato for TWENTY-FOUR YEARS?!”

“A-yup.” Squalo ‘yupped’.

Damn, man! Joe told himself. This guy... I need to keep my distance... He was utterly chilled to the bone. Squalo was NOT normal.

“So...” Cleo peeked at the timer. It read ’16:02’. “We still have a while. Who wants to talk about random crap?”

“Works for me.”





“It’s time,” Squalo whispered. “I can already feel him using foreign powers.” Cleo checked the timer.

“Hm,” she inspected, “About twelve minutes early.” The screen faded away and Joe yawned.

“So let’s see what’s gonna happen here, eh?”

“Don’t talk like you know this job, Joe.” Squalo threatened, “This is gonna be intense.”

“I’m set,” Cleo announced. Freecell. Four chains with charms resembling playing card suits dropped and hung by her left wrist.

“How does that thing work?” Joe asked stupidly.

“Summons Espers.”


“Psychic animals,” Squalo said. “Now let’s go already!” Squalo pulled an ENTIRE PURPLE SWORD INSIDE A SCABBARD from his pants pocket.

“Now I;m NOT going to even ask...”

“Get used to it!” Squalo dashed toward the cozy library and the others attempted to keep up. “Everybody in the office is a Psychic, too!”

“How is a sword a Psychic power?”



Squalo leaped and sliced through the brick exterior; the sword seemed to suck a large section of the barrier into another dimension!! “Meet World-Eater, the universe’s most powerful sword!!” There wasn’t even a sign of damage. The remaining brick was completely smooth and showed no signs of tampering.

“That’s so cool...” Joe gasped. He and Cleo jumped inside and Squalo placed his blade into the empty space. The wall suddenly came whole again. “How do you even GET these powers?”

“Oh, acupuncture. Needles over the entire surface of your body for 24 hours. Think about the power for as long as possible and it gets better the longer you keep it up. Unless you’re born with it.”

“Sorry I asked. Thanks Cleo.” They silently treked through the dark book-lender’s house, lest they get killed at any moment. Joe peered at the bookshelves around the reading area. Hm. My tongue never ends. There’s a lot of crap around here. What could I do with this?


They went on for another few minutes, examining everything, everywhere. Until, that is, they approached the infamous... ‘STAFF ONLY!’ DOOR. A black layer of energy was flooding around the door. That’s weird, Joe thought, For a moment there I thought I’d die if I met this guy head-on in combat. Time to get these guys to enact my plan for me! Joe turned tail and ran!

“Joe!” Cleo whispered loudly! “Gosh, I can’t believe he’s such a coward.”

“Oh well.” Squalo stabbed the door and twisted his blade as if it were water. Then there WAS no door. The room was empty and rather small, sized 8x8. A black beast, with no legs but a tail with which to float with, two long, ragged arms to slash and rip with, and blood red eyes and gleaming teeth to kill with. It looked up and stared at the duo with a feral intensity.

“Geh...geh...geh...” it panted.

“Mr. Library?!” Squalo exclaimed!

“Geh!” Milano the beast raised his arms and a black bolt of lightning struck Cleo!


“Shut up, Squalo.”


A tiny red light shone in the darkness. A red diamond had deflected the dark burst of energy. “That was a little TOO close.” A wolf appeared, wearing the diamond embedded into his forehead! “Hmph. Poker, at your assistance.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to say that every time?” Cleo joked.

“GEH. GEH.” The twisted Mr. Milano leaped at Cleo, fangs bared! She simply raised her leg and he smashed his face into her heel. And he wasn’t happy. “GOH!!”And with that, a wave of “darkness” was released from his body!


Poker the wolf absorbed it like the previous attack. “Can’t use the same trick twice, punk!” he stupidly, cockily laughed!

“SHUT UP!!” Cleo threw her pet at Milano as Squalo simply stood there, confident in his ally, and the wolf turned into a small diamond pin on his chest.

“Sealed ‘yer moves, punky-punkster!!” Squalo swiped at Milano a few times, yet never hitting. Milano twisted around his enemy and grasped him. “Wha-” He couldn’t finish his gasp before he was thrown into the heart of the library; the reading area!! “WAAAAAH!! Oof.” He smashed into a table. But the chairs were missing. What happened to the chairs?


Cleo made an impressive showing of flips and kicks and catapulted Jaques in the same direction. “He’s all yours!” she called!

“Way ahead a’you!” He held his blade completely level with his foe’s forehead. A drop of saliva fell onto Squalo’s shoulder. “Huh?” A black rope was draped around the area, tied up with several random items several times each AND THE MISSING CHAIRS were suspended along with many, many books and two computers. Wait, it’s not a black rope, it’s just a tongue in the darkness--hubba-WHA?!


Turned out the tongue crossed directly in front of Squalo all of a sudden. And as Milano bumped into the tongue, the trap was sprung. The tongue instantly tugged back as if it were a rope let go down a cliff, while tied to several books, chairs, computers, a table and three bookshelves. They crashed into the man over and over again, smashing like a wrecking ball at such high velocity!!


And at the end of the assault, the pathetic, weakened man fell to the ground. The pitch-black skin on his head retracted, revealing his human face. All of the lights switched back on suddenly. Joe triumphantly leaped off of a shelf surrounded by all of the random crap he smacked Jaques around with and placed the last of his tongue back into his jaw.

“How’d you like THAT?” he asked in a cool voice.

Squalo gave a thumbs-up. “I had ‘em, you just stole my kill!”

“He’s not dead yet,” Cleo verified, “So he didn’t. There’s hope for you yet.” She held out the diamond chain and the pin disappeared.


“How’d you do that anyways?”

“The tongue thing?”

“Yeah, that,” Cleo said. Joe opened his mouth and his tongue fell out... and fell out... and fell out until it was a big pile on the floor. Then it quickly retracted into his mouth. Then he shot it out and wrapped it around all bookcases nearby in under five seconds. Then it retracted again! Yay.

“It doesn’t stop and I can shoot it out as fast as I want. It never ends. I’ve tried measuring it.” You could feel Joe’s pride seeping out.

“Versatile natural ability,” Cleo complimented(?). “That’s a Psychic power you’re born with, just so you know the term. By the way, you can’t change it since it was chosen for you.”

“Damn it!” Joe missed his imaginary arms...

“But you don’t need to use the needles!” Squalo cheered.

“YEH-SUH!!” Joe shunned his imaginary arms.

“And now to wrap this up.”


Squalo grabbed Milano by the neck and held him in the air. “Gleh!” he cried! “Eeh, let go!!”

“So spill it,” Squalo ordered. “What the hell is your story? You’ve OBVIOUSLY been living for centuries and you used the book for your own greed. Explain in vivid detail.”

“Alright...ugh.” Squalo dropped him. “Thank you... you people will mark the eighth time I’ve told this tale. You won’t believe me.”

“After tonight?” questioned Cleo.



“Okay. I wanted to die.”

Cleo shook her head. “ He said, EXPLAIN VIVIDLY. PLEASE DO SO.”

“I was a man bent on immortality,” Milano sighed, “And that book gave it to me.” He pulled the ‘PERVIDI’ book out from his ghostly stomach as if it were a pocket. “The ‘Book of Discord’ was a book I discovered in Greece, my home country, and I used it to cast an infinite life spell on myself. After getting ahold of it, I just couldn’t stop myself, as if the book itself was afflicted with a hex, which it was. I lusted for more power for years, decades, centuries in this ghastly form of mine until I simply woke up from that long dream. That was about 700 years after I first enchanted myself.

“ Placido Milano is one of dozens of fake names I’ve crafted along the years, ever since about 1750 AD. I can’t even REMEMBER my birth name. I’d learned through reading the book that the only way to reverse this immortal curse was to be killed while in possession of it. Enraged and confused, I tossed the book into the ocean, hoping it would get torn into pieces by the harsh waves and water. It didn’t. I could still feel it inside my chest, as a huge ripping, bursting pain letting me know how inferior I was.

“So I searched for it until one day, a letter appeared in my mailbox a few weeks ago. It told me I could request it from you, after so many, many years of hiding the pain of losing friends, lovers, and my poor heart. And the only way to die was as listed, to be in this hideous form. And in this day and age, if I went on a rampage, I’d probably get run over by a car before doing any harm. Ha-ha... the book I cursed for torturing me was my one key to bliss. Your delivery has--”

“That’s enough, sir.”Cleo interjected. “You can skip the thanks, we’ll just help you with your problem.”





So in order to make it look like a suicide, the group had Mr. Milano hold a knife in front of his chest. “NOW.” He transformed into that hideous beast once more and every light in the building faded into black.

“HAH!” Squalo smashed the knife into his black heart.

“GREEH!!” he screeched! “GEEH! Geh... grr...” Milano died in a puddle of blood. His dark form faded away and his fingers slipped from the knife.


He had a smile of pure bliss through death. My life is over, and I’ve never been happier in my entire life...


Joe was over in the corner, turning his Birth Screen onto phone mode to tell his parents he’d be home late. Heh, these guys are trained killers, he told himself, What am I doing here? Aha-ha-ha... Somebody picked up the phone on the other end!

“LEAVE US ALONE!!” Joe’s dad screamed! “WE’RE TRYIN’ TO SLEEP!! IT’S FOUR IN THE MORNING, MORON!!” He hung up on his own son, full of hate.

“Oh, Joe!” Squalo called.

“What?” Joe asked, running over.

“Could you get that down for me?” Squalo pointe to a book with an emerald stone set into the cover, the one he noticed at tea-time.

“Sure.” He launched his tongue out and pulled it back.

“Thanks. Man, I never get tired of that tongue!” Squalo took the book and ripped the emerald out, stuffing it in his pocket. One left, he plotted. I’m almost there...


They left the building, Cleo grasping the dark book, and she patted Joe’s cap. “Well, Joe, looks like we’re in for a long career together.”

“Thanks.” Joe thanked. Finally accepted. It’s taken me my entire school career, but now the loser kid has been accepted.

“You probably shouldn’t talk to yourself,” Cleo warned.

Damn, I need to fix that.

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wow... I don't believe nobody read this except me yet. This... ...is awesome!

I loved the alien mix concept, I loved the characters, how they just show who they are (without the need of character sheets, which many fanfics do), you can actually feel that you're inside the story, you can see everything. You, are awesome.


I'm going to follow this. To it's end.


And I'd love it if you could give me a hand with my fan fic too.

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