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23 July 2008 @ 20:37
ART CRAWL!  
Anyone up for trying that whole The Middleman commentfic extravaganza idea again? It's easy. You hit reply, and post a wee story in your comment. It can be a 100 word drabble. It can be a 500 word snippet. Wanna go for 1000? Please do! Anything you like, this is just for fun.

If you haven't played drabble tag or written commentfic before, here was the Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles commentfic extravaganza I hosted in my journal this spring, so you can see how this sort of thing works.

ETA: fixed the scc commentfic link *facepalms*
 
 
 
Stephanie: the middleman logoteffy on 24th July 2008 01:43 (UTC)
That sounds exciting!
a joyful girl getting loud: [mm] so you don't have toperi_peteia on 24th July 2008 01:43 (UTC)
I am far too intimidated to WRITE anything probably, but I would sure READ IT ALL UP.
Grey Bardgrey_bard on 24th July 2008 02:17 (UTC)
Again? It already happened once? Where!
ljc: the middleman (javiminions)taraljc on 24th July 2008 02:38 (UTC)
Alas, it didn't, not really... But I tried too early, last time. But I'm hoping now that we're halfway into the first season, thigns might be different.
ljc: the middleman (wendy = awesomesauce)taraljc on 24th July 2008 02:36 (UTC)
The Post-Plagiarist Conflagration
"Would you like to do the honours?" Lacey asked as she handed Wendy her lighter.

Pip's paintings were stacked haphazardly in the centre of the roof, the strong smell of gasoline wafting in the breeze, the entire scene illuminated by VIPER sign.

"I dunno, Lace. Canvas is expensive. I could probably paint over--"

"Nuh-uh. No way. This will be cathartic, in a I-can't-believe-that-scuzzball-ripped-me-off-and-then-tried-to-blackmail-by-threatening-to-kick-my-family-out-of-his-father's-building-I-can't-set-him-on-fire-so-this-is-the-next-best-thing-kind of way."

"Lacey's right, Wendy Watson," Noser said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "He took you for everything that you had."

"And kicked you out on your own," Lacey added.

"Am I happy? Am I satisfied?"

"There are plenty of ways that you can hurt a man and bring him to the ground," came a voice from the doorway.

"Yo, Wendy's Boss."

"Hello, Mr Noser. Lacey." The Middleman favoured Wendy's roommate with a warm smile. "I thought I might find you up here, Dubby."

"How?"

"I deduced it was most likely you had removed the offending copies of your original artwork from the gallery's dumpster and would want to destroy them. I caught the distinctive smell of kerosene, mixed with Brut and tempera and just a hit of Pip's hair gel as I came into the hallway."

"So you came to stop us?"

"Hounds of Lucifer, no!" He held out a bag of marshmallows, and three Hershey bars. "I just thought... well, if you didn't mind..."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Yes, you can roast marshmallows over the burning remains of Pip's copies of my work."

"Excellent!" The Middleman rubbed his hands together, his deep soulful eyes alight with childlike glee. "Can I ask you something?"

Wendy's eyes narrowed. "That... you know... thing from the gallery opening worn off?" she whispered, so Lacey and Noser couldn't hear. However, Lacey and Noser were busy getting marshmallows impaled on the end of the barbecue forks the Middleman had thoughtfully thought to provide along with the makings for s'mores.

"The effects are temporary, I assure you."

"Sure. Fire away."

"What did you paint, before you joined--"

Wendy coughed.

"--The Jolly Fats Weehawkin Temp Agency in the pursuit of emotionally satisfying short-term employment?"

She looked down at the lighter still clutched in her fingers. "Asian dudes in aeroplanes."

"Interesting."

She flicked open the DC3 Zippo, and bent down to hold it to the corner of the gun-toting gorilla copy. The entire stack went up in flames, and Wendy held her hands out to warm them in the fire's glow.

"Yeah. I like my new period better."


Edited at 2008-07-24 15:13 (UTC)
Trixie: Avatar - Azulatrixalicious on 25th July 2008 07:19 (UTC)
Re: The Post-Plagiarist Conflagration
I love the idea of a Fic Crawl and I love what you wrote here. It totally feels like it could have been a credits-tag for that episode.

Props for including Queen lyrics!
Re: The Post-Plagiarist Conflagration - trixalicious on 25th July 2008 07:20 (UTC) (Expand)
Re: The Post-Plagiarist Conflagration - mymatedave on 25th July 2008 17:21 (UTC) (Expand)
Re: The Post-Plagiarist Conflagration - taraljc on 25th July 2008 17:54 (UTC) (Expand)
Re: The Post-Plagiarist Conflagration - hematitebadger on 15th August 2008 09:48 (UTC) (Expand)
Re: The Post-Plagiarist Conflagration - kat_rowe on 17th September 2008 22:31 (UTC) (Expand)
"Bumblebee, stop lubricating the man.": MM Hefty Bag Quotefaithfulpuppy85 on 24th July 2008 03:05 (UTC)
LOL You forgot the grahm crackers unless I missed them. You can't have smores without grahm crackers.

Anyway. How does this commentfic extravaganza work?
ljc: the middleman (together)taraljc on 24th July 2008 03:07 (UTC)
You post little stories. They can be 100 word drabbles, or longer, anything you like. I did one back when SCC was on the air, and had a blast.
Your Staryourstar202 on 24th July 2008 03:39 (UTC)
I would like to! Every since I heard the line "Drunk Thursday", I've been toying with the idea of a fic...So, we just post a drabble in this comment thread?
ljc: the middleman (wendy = awesomesauce)taraljc on 24th July 2008 14:44 (UTC)
Yep!
Cedara: *zen*cedara on 24th July 2008 05:31 (UTC)
Where?!

I'll come and try to help.
ljctaraljc on 24th July 2008 14:44 (UTC)
Here!
(no subject) - cedara on 24th July 2008 19:20 (UTC) (Expand)
formerly rainne83: stuntslotus0kid on 24th July 2008 14:42 (UTC)
Hm, well, I'd sure like to cut my Middlefic teeth... how does this work?
ljc: whofictaraljc on 24th July 2008 14:44 (UTC)
You just post wee snippets--any length you like. Here was the Sarah COnnor Chronicles commentfic post from a few months back.
(no subject) - lotus0kid on 24th July 2008 14:47 (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - taraljc on 24th July 2008 14:58 (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - lotus0kid on 24th July 2008 15:00 (UTC) (Expand)
(Deleted comment)
Cedara: The Middleman:Exclamation_markscedara on 24th July 2008 19:33 (UTC)
"Why do we have to go to Chicago?" Wendy asked. She and Lacey had plans to go to a performance tonight, one of Noser's friends was supposed to do something quite extraordinary. As none of Wendy's friends had any idea what kind of extraordinary Noser's friend was doing, she was quite curious.

"Because there's a hole in the space-time continuum somewhere in Chicago," the Middleman answered.

"Yeah, I got that the first time around. I mean, why is it in Chicago? Why not New Orleans or Washington, or whereever else?"

"Well, I suppose we'll find that out when we get there.

Several hours later, after a super-fast trip with the middlecar somewhere in Chicago, near the Canadian embassy.

"It's in there!" the Middleman exclaimed, quite cheerfully.

As Wendy and the Middleman arrived at the door of the Canadian embassy, Wendy remarked dryly, "I suppose we should knock."

A guy in a red serge opened the door and the Middleman and Wendy produced their ID's.

"I'm Detective McFly and this is my colleague, Sargeant Fox. We're with the Canadian Office of Extra-Physic Occurences. May we speak to the Ambassador?"

"She's not available right now. However, I'm Constable Benton Fraser. May I be of assistance?"


Edited at 2008-07-24 19:34 (UTC)
ljc: the middleman (together)taraljc on 25th July 2008 17:55 (UTC)
*LOLZ*

Can Kate and Nick from SU2 show up, looking for links? pleasepleasepleaseplease?
(no subject) - cedara on 25th July 2008 18:26 (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - taraljc on 25th July 2008 18:53 (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - cedara on 25th July 2008 20:39 (UTC) (Expand)
automated joke machine: Team Middleman II robin the boy hostagedreamingwriter on 24th July 2008 22:30 (UTC)
Wendy starts to treat the whole thing as a joke when he mentions temptations in the Underworld and then he says completely seriously, that he hopes for all of her. She would tell him that she always looked at her Christmas presents before they were wrapped, almost opens her mouth to, but it's Roxy and drums and a goat and show time.

With her glasses on, she thinks it would have made a difference.

x

Art Crawl!
ljc: the middleman (wendy = awesomesauce)taraljc on 25th July 2008 18:18 (UTC)
This is just lovely.
(no subject) - dreamingwriter on 3rd August 2008 15:49 (UTC) (Expand)
Trixie: Avatar - Azulatrixalicious on 25th July 2008 07:14 (UTC)
The Zombie Rehabilition Confrontation
Middleman HQ
Five O’Clock (Somewhere)

The Middleman watched the monitor intently, the way a young, oblivious, culinarily-challenged housewife watches Sandra Lee semi-cook, as Wendy paced the room behind him. "Don't you think you should've mentioned this before?"

"Dubby, I'm not sure I know what you mean by 'this.'"

"By 'this' I mean THIS! The reason we've been holed up in here for the last hour staring at the closed-circuit Middlemonitor like a couple of tourists in a German peep-show booth while Ida's out there in the Jolly Fats Weehawkin Temp Agency lobby with her new best friend Russo, the lady zombie who claims to be the world's foremost expert in zombie-rehabilitation."

"How could I have mentioned this before when she's only just now come to our lobby?"

"Don't try to confuse the issue!"

"And what issue would that be, Dubby?" The Middleman took his attention away from the monitor and turned to look at Wendy, whose pacing was beginning to wear a hole in the Middlecarpet.

"Zombie-rehabilitation! The first time we encountered zombies and I didn't want to shoot the traumatized, hospitalized and doped-up bridegroom, you said that the only way to stop a zombie was to completely destroy the brain. Now, this woman walks in - an hour ago - and you send brainless, battery-powered Ida out to greet her and all the while we're just skulking in here, listening in on their conversation about some zombie twelve-step program. However, this woman is not a woman, but a zombie, so we should be destroying her brain, right? What are we waiting for?"

"It's not that simple, Dubby."

"What's not that simple about it? It was exactly that simple last time!"

"Yes. I see what you mean,” The Middleman spoke slowly as he considered all the ways in which this zombie situation was not as simple as the simple zombie situation they had faced previously. “However, last time we were dealing with trout-guzzling zombies, and not actual human-brain-craving, walking, talking, laughing undead."

"She can't be that undead! No yellow eyes, no sharp teeth, no gray skin. Not to mention that she’s walking, talking and laughing instead of shambling, moaning and crying for trout or brains. She's even gotta better suntan than I do!"

"Well, now, that's debatable," The Middleman returned his attention to the Middlemonitor and pointed at the pixilated version of their visitor before turning again to face Wendy. "But you see Dubby, as we've previously learned there are different kinds of zombies. There are zombies created by mad scientists or necromancers bent on world domination and destruction. Other zombies are created after being bitten by previously-zombified persons. Or other types of infected fauna."

"And which kind is she?"

"Mad-scientist generated. Russo there used to be a temp for a genetics company not entirely dissimilar from the gig you were working when we met. Power-hungry lead scientist turned her into a zombie after offering to pay her overtime to participate in one of his after-hours experiments, and she, in turn, ate his brain. Gave that Middleman the slip, and turned up a few months later asking for his help in recruiting clients for her rehabilitation center. He's the one who was killed in a zombie outbreak because he was trying to subdue and capture instead of exterminate."

"[BLEEP.]"

"Darn-tootin', Dubby. And that’s why I didn’t mention it to you then. Okay, yes, there are alternatives, but the brainpanning is the only 100% fool-proof way to end a zombie outbreak before it starts. Russo’s zombie-rehabilitation center is indeed a world-class facility with a day spa, gym, English garden, library and a four-star restaurant specializing in gulai otak and tête de veau. They have a Zagat rating. And I know that all sounds flim-flam-fantastic, but there's simply no empirical proof that a zombie can stay on-the-wagon long-term."
Trixie: Avatar - Azulatrixalicious on 25th July 2008 07:15 (UTC)
The Zombie Rehabilition Confrontation Continuation
"You're entirely correct, Em-squared,” Russo insinuated herself into their conversation as she and Ida entered the room. “There is, as yet, no empirical proof for the sustainability of a zombie diet that consists of precisely zero human brains but we've had great success so far, and not a single one of our graduates has relapsed."

"Sons of Zebedee! How did you get in here?” The Middleman launched himself in front of Wendy, pushing her behind him. “Dubby, stay behind me. This could get messy"

"Oh, relax, woodja? You're wound tighter than a Chihuahua on diet pills. Russo’s here as a potential client, and she’s about as interested in eating your brains as Brad Pitt is in leaving Angelina Jolie for your hooplehead trainee," Ida dismissively gave Wendy a once-over. “Did you know that one of her graduates is a world-renowned chef?”

“Ida speaks truth. He uses his day job traveling the world to help us come up with new and flavorful ways to prepare the assorted animal brains in our cafeteria."

Wendy bounded past The Middleman’s still-outstretched arm."It's Bourdain, isn't it? I knew something was up with that guy. 80’s-style hard living is one thing, but aging at the speed of light for years and then just not aging at all--"

"Biters-Reformation and Intensive Nourishment Seminar is sensitive to the needs of its members. That our students and graduates desire anonymity is both expected and respected by our staff.”

“So what you’re saying is that you can neither confirm nor deny my allegations of Bourdain-zombification, but that I’m free to speculate, postulate and bloviate?”

Russo failed in her attempt to suppress a grin as she glanced at Ida and said, “I see what you mean about this one. She is a pistol.”

“Ida, you called me a pistol? I knew you would warm up to me sooner or later.”

Ida scoffed, “I didn’t say ‘pistol’ I said ‘pis—’”

“Let’s just nevermind that, shall we?” The Middleman quickly interrupted Ida, and focused his attention on Russo. “Ida said that you’ve come here as a potential client. You know that we’re not in the business of recruiting potential twelve-steppers for your organization anymore.”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten, but that’s not why I’m here. I guess you could say I’ve got an exotic problem.”
(Deleted comment)
formerly rainne83: stuntslotus0kid on 25th July 2008 12:40 (UTC)
[Prompt taken from The Seventh Sanctum Writing Challenge Generator.]

The Middlejet’s engines shifted down to cruising speed as Junior (Wendy’s preferred name for the inappropriately mysterious Middleman) engaged the autopilot and stepped into the cabin. “Let’s get a better look at what caused our dwarfish friends to call in the Middleman,” he said, crouching down next to the centuries old case that had been passed into their custody a few minutes after landing and a few minutes before take-off.

Wendy frowned at the case from her supine position on the cabin’s floor, placing her copy of Good Omens on her chest. “I’d be careful with that if I were you. Those short bearded guys acted like that thing was radioactive.”

“The Kebnekaise dwarfs are notoriously superstitious, Dubby. I’m sure it’s nothing too dangerous.” Junior crouched down next to the case and examined the locks holding it closed. They were dwarfish, of course, but nearly rusted through with age. If they were so frightened of the thing, they might’ve secured it better... Unless they were too frightened to get that close. Junior shrugged off his musings and removed the locks. The case creaked open to reveal- “Doberman’s Pinschers, what a beautiful battleaxe!”

Wendy blinked, “Beautiful... battleaxe... battleaxe... beautiful. Yeah, not seeing the connection there, chief.”

Junior shot her a look of reproach, “You’re an artist, Dubby; surely you can appreciate a colleague’s masterpiece, even if it’s outside your medium.” With two careful hands, Junior lifted the weapon out of the case. It was perfectly balanced, the twenty-eight-inch handle fully supporting a massive, ten-inch blade. “The things this axe must have seen...” he said reverently.

“I’m guessing mostly a lot of brain pans, myself.”

Junior bared his teeth in a grin, eyes still on the blade, “That goes without saying. Sharpen this right and you could remove your enemy’s head like clipping off a dandelion blossom.” Wendy said something, but Junior couldn’t quite hear her over the sound of the engines and the blood rushing in his ears. Funny, the combination almost sounded like shouts. Like roars. Screams. The tin smell of the Middlejet could almost be mistaken for the coppery smell of blood, staining the air itself with its presence. He breathed it in deep, the perfume of war, and soaked his brain in it. His hands tightened around his weapon and movement on his left attracted his attention.

He smirked to catch the heady, sour scent of his enemy’s fear. She should be scared- he was so much larger than her, and his axe was practically singing its need to hack her to pieces. In one smooth movement he was on his feet and facing her, swinging his axe in an even figure-eight to limber up. His enemy darted away- oh, she was fast. How wonderful. He stalked after her, aiming to corner her near one end of the rather narrow valley he found himself fighting in. It worked until his enemy shot between his legs and made a dash for safety behind him. She was clever too- even better.

He followed until he’d almost reached the end of the valley, and then pain burst white hot in his head. His enemy’s shrill, panicked voice drifted through his ears, saying, “Ida! Ida, you [BLEEP] bucket of bolts, help me out RIGHT NOW! I got him with the fire extinguisher, but he’s... oh [BLEEP]...” Then the red fog rolled back in and he used the handle of his axe to sweep his enemy’s legs out from under her. She grunted pleasingly as she hit the ground, and he raised his axe above his head to finish her off.
formerly rainne83: stuntslotus0kid on 25th July 2008 12:40 (UTC)

Then there was a bright blue flash, and cool calm darkness.

Junior’s eyelids seemed to weigh a ton each as they cracked open. And if his eyelids were two tons, the rest of his body was a whole box of eyelids. Aftereffects of a concussive field generator, his brain supplied.

“Nothing too dangerous, you said,” Wendy’s angry voice fell on him like a hammer from where she sat in the co-pilot’s chair, “Well, in that case, I’d sure like to know what you find too dangerous, you colossal jerkwad.”

Junior’s lethargy was wearing off now; enough to take in his partner’s pale, shaken face and say, “I apologize, Wendy. That was an unconscionable lack of foresight displayed on my part.”

“You can say that again.”

“On the other hand, those were some dandy evasive maneuvers you employed back there.”

Wendy rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, “Yeah, well, as Sensei Ping says, ‘The wind doesn’t wait until something gets in its path to blow.’”

“Where is the axe?”

“It’s wherever I kicked it back in the cabin. Do you think it’ll be safe for Ida to pick up? I mean, alien androids aren’t all that susceptible to ancient dwarfish bloodlust, right?”

“Either it will be safe, or we’ll be in a humdinger of a pickle, Dubby.”

She sighed, “The fun never stops, does it?”
(no subject) - brista on 25th October 2008 02:16 (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - lotus0kid on 26th October 2008 13:58 (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - dessieoctavia on 20th March 2011 14:48 (UTC) (Expand)
Your Staryourstar202 on 27th July 2008 04:52 (UTC)
The Thursday Night Extravaganza Interruption: Part I
Author's Note: This drabble quickly got out of hand. It was meant to be short, but Dub-Dub and MM ran away with a plot bunny...and voila! I hope you like it! ^_^

The Thursday Night Extravaganza Interruption
(AKA: Thursday Drunk)


"Dance Space" of the illegal sublets Wendy Watson, Lacey Thornfield, Noser, Joe 90, and Pip
(AKA: The basement/Laundry room)

Dance!Dance! Time
(Or: Midnight-ish)

She was ignoring his call. Which he acknowledged, wasn’t unusual for her. But he was beginning to get worried by the tenth alert he had sent to her communicator. So, he decided that he must pay Wendy Watson a visit. What he had not known was what happened on this certain day of the week. It was Thursday. And to those who were illegally subletting the apartment building, it was “Thursday Drunk”.

Music was blasting through the room, bottles of beer, wine, vodka, and other alcoholic beverages adorned the top of the washer and dryer. The basement was filled with people. Most of them The Middleman recognized from Art Crawl. He greeted Noser, who leaned against the wall by the doorway, people watching.

“Hello, Noser.” The Middleman said cheerfully.

“Hey, Wendy’s Boss.” Noser greeted him, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for Dubbie…” His gaze traveled the room, “What’s going on here? Some sort of hootenanny?”

Noser simply smiled at his choice of words and answered his question like he was answering the question ‘Is the sky blue?’. “It’s Thursday Drunk.”

“Thursday Drunk?” The Middleman repeated, mildly intrigued, his eyebrows raised.

“Every first Thursday of the month, we all get together and get drunk, dance, and occasional get in a paint war.”

“Sounds…fun.”

“I assure you, it is.” Noser inclined his head toward the middle of the room, “Your Wendy Watson is dancing with Lacey.”

The Middleman followed Noser’s gaze and found Wendy dancing closely with Lacey. Her arms were over her head, her hips gyrating to the music, a happy smile upon her lips. He was momentarily mesmerized. He was a man, after all…

He quickly snapped himself out of his thoughts. As her boss, he couldn’t allow himself to think of her like that…nothing but trouble would come of it…Wendy lifted her eyes and met his gaze. There was no surprise in her eyes. That was his girl; she could always roll with whatever came her way. He watched as she grabbed Lacey’s wrist and shimmied and shook her way through the crowd.

Wendy stopped in front of her boss and gave Lacey a little fling, sending her tumbling into Noser’s arms. Lacey, who was a little more than tipsy, wrapped her arms around his neck and promptly cuddled to his chest. Wendy grinned and shook her head. When intoxicated, Lacey was a cuddler. Noser drew her close and laughed into her hair.

Your Staryourstar202 on 27th July 2008 04:52 (UTC)
The Thursday Night Extravaganza Interruption: Part II
"I take it you’re not here for Thursday Drunk.” Wendy addressed her boss, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Sadly, Dubbie, I’m here for a different matter.” The Middleman responded, “We have an emergency meeting to get to.”

She sighed deeply and headed up the stairs, stumbling slightly. He Middleman caught her around waist, steadying her.

“Are you intoxicated, Dubbie?” he asked.

“It’s Thursday Drunk.” Was her only answer.

They got into the lift, standing side by side, and headed up to her floor. She slightly swayed as the elevator moved.

“You’re in no condition to fight crime, Dubbie.” He said, attempting to be stern, but failing as she smiled up at him her eyes lighting with enthusiasm.

“I’m in perfect condition!” she objected.

The elevator came to a jolting stop and Wendy fell down. The Middleman simply looked down at her.

“I can see that.” He answered with a small sigh.

He picked her up, ignoring her protest and threats of castration, and carried her into her loft. He maneuvered through the apartment and up to her room, placing her on the bed.

“[Bleep!]” Wendy blurted out a generic dirty word for no particular reason other than to see his reaction.

He gave her a look, a mix of exasperation and amusement, and hit a button on his Middlewatch. A tiny compressor appeared from the left side of the face. He removed it and knelt down in front of her. Inside the gadget was an elixir that neutralized the effects of alcohol. Now he just needed to distract her so he could use it. Even drunk, he was quiet sure she could still put up one heck of a fight, despite her lack of balance.

What could he do that would distract her thoroughly enough that he could give her the elixir and avoid grave bodily harm? Then an idea hit him. It wasn’t the best idea, given his aforementioned thought about being her boss and the boundaries that he shouldn’t cross. But it was the best plan he could think of.

The Middleman leaned in and kissed her on the lips…

Without hesitation, Wendy returned his kiss, her eye lids drifting shut. His kiss…it left her speechless. It was everything she had ever thought it could be; tender, passionate, and----

“[BLEEP] a duck! What the [BLEEP]! [BLEEP!]” Wendy cried as a stinging pain radiated through her neck.

“Sorry, Dubbie” The Middleman said softly, showing her the device.

Instantly, Wendy lost her buzz as the elixir kicked in and she groaned loudly, thoroughly unhappy.

“Oh man! You’re such an [BLEEP]!” she frowned deeply at him, “Was that really necessary?”

“The elixir or the kiss?” he asked, smiling somewhat, hoping that she wouldn’t cause him grave bodily harm over both incidents.

“The elixir! I was in tip-top shape to fight!”

His brows furrowed together. “Then you aren’t mad over the kiss?”

“Uh, why would I be?” She stood and looked down at him with a small smile, “Now will ya turn around so I can change?”

The Middleman obliged, he was a gentleman after all. He waited only moments before she tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and found her fully dressed in her Middlegear.

”Let’s go save the world.” She said, smiling that smile that she got right before she got to go kick ass.

They headed downstairs and he opened the door for her. She walked a head of him and paused just outside the door. He followed after, closing the door behind him. Without warning, her fist lashed out and cold clocked him in the stomach. The Middleman doubled over slightly with a grunt. Wendy bent down so she could look him in the eyes.

“The next time you kiss me like that or shoot me in the neck with some sort of concoction, you better make it worth my while.” She warned him, then straightened and smiled from ear to ear, “Whoo! Let’s go save the world!”

“The next time you kiss me like that or shoot me in the neck with some sort of concoction, you better make it worth my while.” She warned him, then straightened and smiled from ear to ear, “Whoo! Let’s go save the world!”

And that they did, for many times to come. And as fate would have it, the world never needed saving on a Thursday again.

The End!