Chapter 1: On The Run
Fandom: Watchdogs. Rated T for language.
Prompt: "IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING!” “And?” “ I have a strict no murder rule until eight. Call me then.”
Josef vaulted over the railing, pulling out his phone as he stuck the landing. Right thumb flying, he pulled up the LA Department of Civil Engineering and Infrastructure mainframe, accessing the nearest fire hydrant. With a roar, the surge in water pressure overwhelmed the metal cap, and the hydrant exploded. Car alarms rang, and he heard the policeman chasing him jump back with a curse. Dashing over to the nearest vehicle, asking God why his escape vehichle always had to be an ice cream truck, he pulled the driver out and floored it. Several police cars pulled out from the side streets, and Josef thought he heard distant helicopter blades. Taking a deep breath, he punched in his first speed dial and waited as the phone rang.
"Stevan here, how can I help ya mate?"
"Stevan, this is Josef." Narrowly swerving to avoid hitting a motorbike, Josef fumbled his phone, slapping it back against his ear. "I may or may not have started a firefight, and now-"
"You're on the run," Stevan finished for him. "Josef, what have I told you about calling in a gang strike, then calling the cops on the gang?"
"I'm just trying to be a good citizen!" Josef shouted, drifting around a police car and ignoring Stevan's snort. "Is this how they reward folks who bring criminals to justice!?"
"I won't even try to argue," Stevan sighed. "Look, what do you need? I'm kinda busy here."
Looking back, Josef uttered a curse. Just as he had feared, an unmarked green car had joined the police. "Stevan, there's a Hunter of my tail. You gotta come take him out for me. Smooth sailin' from there, I promise."
"Josef, it's two in the morning!" Stevan shouted.
"Yeah, so?" Josef grunted. Glancing back, he accessed the global vehicle directional assistant and tried to get a lock on his pursuer.
"You know I have a strict no murder rule until 8 AM. Call me then."
"You sonofabitch, don't you dare-" With a click, the connection cut off. Angrily, Josef returned to the directional assistant and swiped left. The Hunter's car swerved, hitting a police car and smashing through a storefront. He'd be after him again in a minute, but at least Josef had bought himself some time. "Fuck Stevan," he muttered as he hit the gas. He could probably do this himself, but he would've liked some help.
Chapter 2: Cleared for Liftoff
Fandom: Kerbal Space Program. Rated G.
Prompt: "Let me get this straight. I tell you that I make a decent omelette and you somehow equate that to qualification for piloting a spaceship?”
"Kerbin Central Command, are we clear?"
"Kerbal I, you are clear for liftoff. Starting primary ignition sequence."
Jebediah Kerman jogged down the bridge to the capsule, perched atop a marvel of modern Kerbal engineering. The Kerbal I was an amalgamation of the finest aviation technology on all of Kerbin, integrating parts from every company the space program could convince to supply it. Though, come to think of it, the capsule did look a little small for the mission the Professor had recruited him for, but he shrugged it off. The scientists knew what they were doing.
Throwing open the capsule hatch, Jebediah froze. Apart from the control panel and a single seat, it was completely empty. "Um, Command Central?" Jeb radioed.
"We hear you, Jebediah," the Professor responded.
"Why is there only one seat?"
"Naturally, one seat for one person." The professor's response was far too matter-of-fact for the statement.
"But I'm just the cook!" Jeb shouted. "Where's the pilot!?"
"Why, you're the pilot, of course." The professor sounded incredulous. "We've been over this.
"WE HAVE NOT ONCE BEEN OVER THIS!!!" Jeb screamed.
"Jebediah, would you please not yell into the microphone? It's a sensitive piece of-"
"I will yell as much as I WANT!" Jeb cried. "I tell you that I make a decent omelette and you somehow equate that to qualification for PILOTING A SPACESHIP!?”
"Maybe there was a slight miscommunication there," the Professor conceded. "But either way, it's too late to find another pilot, and we can't just call off the mission." A Kerbal Jeb hadn't noticed approaching picked him up and shoved him into the capsule, ignoring his frantic pleas. "So you'd best buckle in and get your switch-flipping fingers ready, because you're going to the Mün, Jebediah!" The capsule door slammed, cutting off Jeb's sobbing.
Chapter 3: This Won't Hurt a Bit
Fandom: none. Rated M for language and graphic descriptions of internal human anatomy.
Prompt: "This is clearly your first time. Stop screaming already, you’ll wake the neighbors!”
"So, you say it'll be painless?"
"Yes, completely. My methods have only ever failed once, and even if they do, you won't be alive long enough to feel the pain. Much."
"That's not very reassuring."
"Only failed once, remember. Now, please remove your shirt."
"Okay... Um, what's that?"
"The needle, or the corkscrew-y thing?"
"That's the- drat, I really should name these sometime. Anyway, that's the thing I'll use to remove the bones."
"Every time you say something, my terror doubles."
"You want to live, right? Well, to work! I just have to put this here, a few rubs from this, and voila! Anesthesia complete!"
"So you're sure that worked?"
"Can you feel your chest?"
"I can't normally feel my-"
"ANYWAY, now to make the incision. A nice clean line right up the center of the ribcage..."
"WHAT THE FUCK!?"
"Yes, shock and disbelief are common reactions. The whole process seems a bit surreal, but I assure you this is very real."
"HOW THE FUCK AM I NOT BLEEDING!? I SHOULD BE DEAD! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME, DOC!? THAT WAS NOT JUST ANESTHESIA!"
"Oh, hush. I work better with less noise. Now, if I remove the ribs just-"
"You CAN put this shit back, RIGHT!?"
"Oh yes, of course. A few snips, and... Yes! There's your problem! Just look at how sick this heart looks! . . . This is your first time, isn't it? Stop screaming already, you’ll wake the neighbors!"
"HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO STAY CALM WHEN YOU ARE HOLDING MY HEART IN FRONT OF MY FUCKING FACE!?!"
"You get used to it. Here, I brought a spare. See? Sew it on in, and you're good as new!"
"WHAT ABOUT MY FUCKING BONES, DOC!?!"
"Oh, yes, those. A brush of Epoxy A here, a dab of Epoxy B here, aaaaand there you go!"
"Epoxy. You reattached my bones with FUCKING EPOXY."
"Well, yes. Not everything has to be borderline magical."
"So you admit literally nothing about this makes any sense."
"Don't put words in my mouth. I said borderline magical. There's science behind all of this."
"Well if this is science, I don't want any part of it."
"Unfortunately, you'll be getting the bill part later this week. Have a nice evening!"
"Doc. This gaping fucking INCISION in my stomach."
"It'll heal in about an hour. Toodles!"
Chapter 4: Perfect Shot
Fandom: Elite Sniper. Rated M for mild language and graphic depictions of violence.
Prompt: "Sir, that’s impossible, you can’t do that.” “IS THAT A FUCKING CHALLENGE?!?!”
"Eyes on the target," Agent 1HK breathed into his communicator. Taking a deep breath, he released it slowly, squeezing the trigger just as the general emerged from behind the wall. The bullet flew through his eye, blasting him to kingdom come. "Target eliminated," he radioed coolly.
"HQ to 1HK, we have a new target. Sending coordinates now." 1HK's GPS reloaded, displaying a location not far from his position. Slithering out of the bushes, he stood up, keeping low as he jogged along by the wall. After a minute, he reached the position, an old farmhouse with a perfect view of the valley. "In position," he declared.
"Coy that, 1HK, fire at will."
1HK loomed down towards the pagoda, where his target seemed to be sharing a drink with some fellow soldiers. On a whim, he once more bent his head to the communicator. "HQ, you have eyes on the operation?"
"Affirmative, in the air. Any reason?"
"HQ, I'm going to hit this man right in the testicles."
"1HK, that's impossible, you can't do that. Do not attempt, I repeat-"
"With all due respect, HQ, is that a fucking challenge?"
There was a long silence. "Alright, 1HK, permission to proceed. If you fail, I can guarantee you will be the laughingstock of the entire Special Ops force for at least a month."
"Copy that, HQ." Once more steadying himself, 1HK pressed the scope to his eye and aimed carefully at his target. Breathe in, breathe out, bang.
There was a brief silence, followed by an explosion of cheers in his left ear. "1HK, we can confirm the testicle shot," a voice cut through the incredulous shouts. Agent 1HK smirked, reloading and checking his GPS for new coordinates. He was the best shot in the Special Ops force, and if he said he was going to hit something, he was going to hit it.