From Newsgroup: rec.arts.comics.creative

On Sun, Jul 20, 2025 at 5:00rC>PM Arthur Spitzer <arspitzer2@gmail.com> wrote: <snip>

Brief Cases - A NTB WOTA X over.

Isn't that just more WotA?

Frank Condon walked into the foyer of the office, there was the same old sad looking rubberplant in the corner by the visitors table. The table had old magazines scattered over the surface. He waved to the receptionist and walked up the stairs to his office. He had been doing jobs like this for years, coming
up with new systems of filing and storing information.
He longed for the old days, ancient China, he and Xeroxes had really got things
going there. It had been wonderful, seeing order arise from chaos.

Ooooooh fascinating.

He turned round suddenly. A large blue puddle was creeping along his office floor. He backed away.
Suddenly discordant music filled the air, it was an instrumental of a Kylie Minogue record that sounded like it was being played by a 2 year old child.
A man shaped thing appeared beside him, he was waving a baton, and instead of having a face, had a huge musical note where his nose should be.
"Greetings, Frank, from the Universal Office, I am the Muzak Maestro, and this", he pointed his baton at the puddle, "is the typing pool. You know about
Xeroxes, so I'm afraid that you`re going to die."

Fascinating!

13 got off the Manchester train. He was worried, he had had his ticket stamped
50 times on the short journey from Nottingham. He had had to produce an ID card to buy a ticket, and to get the card, he had filled out 10 forms in triplicate. The office was ruling the world, which meant his trip to find the friends of Xeroxes was probably a waste of time. Any potential threat to the office would be eradicated. He thought he'd better be careful.
He bought a paper from the nearest newsagents. They were only selling copies of the Daily Mail.

D: THE OFFICE IS THE FOUNT OF ALL EVIL

"Felching heck, the bloody office is one step ahead of us all the time."
"2 actually." said a voice from behind.
He looked around to face Burak Racey.
"I believe I owe you a punch in the face." said Racey.

Awwwww shit

"How did you find me?" said 13.
"Did you think your purchase of a train ticket would not be monitored?"

That's a good point, actually. X>;

"Oh yeah!" said 13 lunging forward. He grabbed Racey by the shoulders and heaved him up in the air. He threw him at the Muzak Maestro, he rebounded off and fell into the pool.
13 ran down the street. Bystanders gave him a queer look.
"Where did you learn a move like that." said Tori.
"When I last visited Ramaj, Deft brainwashed me with wrestling. I never thought
it would come in useful.

X3 Nice, good tie-in

Several hours later, 13 had all he needed. He had to stay in Manchester, travelling by train was too risky. Racey was almost certainly dead,

He is? Huh.

"Right" said Toni. "If I chant the words, red tape, while you light the burner with the essential oil in, and dance round the pentagram doing high kicks, we should be alright."
"I hate rituals." mumbled 13, "I'll look stupid."
"What's new." retorted Toni.

hehehehe

13 was unsure if the ritual was exactly the same as the one Ramaj had found, but figured that close enough was good enough. If he got a demon of the higher
planes, he would tell it to sod off. That usually worked.

Not the attitude I usually take with magic, but if it works...

Suddenly a great clicking sound occured, followed by a whirring.
"Hello, this is Xeroxes, God of Bureauracy here."
13 jumped for joy.
"We've done it!" he screamed.
"Sorry I'm not able to talk round now, but please leave a message after the tone."
13 swore profusely.

X3 X3 X3 That's pretty good.

There was a loud bleep.
"Xeroxes, it's 13, the world is going to hell in a handbasket. Your Universal Office has taken control of everything. You are the only one who can stop it. Get your arse over here now. One last thing, bring that tenner you owe me."

What does a god need with a tenner?

Don't ask me how I know about what a bar's supposed to
taste like. It's a long, involved story, and I'd have to marry you afterwards to avoid prosecution.

heeheeheehee

Flashes of me making Jigglers out of the dreaded Tequila Jello
I had fashioned last night spun through my addled senses.

X3

No, I wasn't a Trenchcoater at the moment. Hero? Not quite.
Guy?

Could always be a Lad. n.n

A numbness in that region told me that it would perhaps be
best not to check. I vaguely recalled someone throwing my last
Tequila Jiggler down LJC's blouse, and being the dutiful
Jellomancer, deemed it in my purview to retrieve. Ow. Pain. Much
pain.
Mayhaps "guy" was out of the question at the moment.

Ahhhhh, the classic Forcicus Feminizus spell

After about five minutes of careful deliberation with me,
myself, and a little owl that came out of my pocket and yelled at
me for laying on him (_gotta_ lay off the booze), I determined that
I was the Slightly Sentient Being to do it.

heeheeheehee

Hitting the streets, I knew I was well and truly lost. I
mean, I hadn't been reading up until this point, and had no idea
what had happened to this Administrator dude.

X3

My only role thus in
this scenario was "Exposition Expeditor." I was the guy who got to
ask the dumb questions that informed the audience about what _we_
all knew about, but they, the Unwashed Masses, were not privy to.
Frankly, it wasn't much of a role, and needless to say, I largely
ignored it.

Heeheehee

I headed for the bus stop. Odd. Someone had replaced the
plastic shelter with an string of file cabinets. Heh. What will
those wacky guys in the CTA think of next, running the buses on
time?

X3

After about two seconds, it hit me like a ton of mayonnaise.
In my drunken stupor, I had accidentally wandered into an office
building, roughly the size of...Kansas?
It went on _forever,_ an endless panoply of faceless
bureaucracy. God had come back, and he was Kafka.

Damn, that's a good line

I remembered
the immortal words of the Zen Master Hu Shih, and took them to
practice. "When in trouble, when in doubt, run in cicles, scream
and shout."

X3

I knew I was hallucinating at that point. I _had_ consumed
the worm, and all bets were off. Chicagoans don't form lines.
It's not in our genetic structure. Unruly masses, maybe, but lines
were too much to hope for. It was enough of an inspiring sight to
induce me to stand in line as well.
Call me cattle. Moo.

Well. X>

Whatever was at the head of this line, it must have been
significant enough to get this woman right out of the shower,
without stopping for silly things like clothes, or a towel, or
something like that.

Wow. X>

"Excuse me, but do you like Jello?"
She smiled a delicious little smirk. "Why, of course..."
"Orange?"
Rolling back her head, she breathed in the thought. "Yesss..."
"With little pineapple chunks?"
"Mmmmm...my faaaavorite." She was now doing an excellent
impression of Sally in the cafe.
"Impossible."
"Huh?"
"Impossible. The sugars and acids in fresh pineapple work to
break down the gelatin emulsifers. Normally, this isn't a problem,
since they can add more than the usual amount of gelatin to the
mix, but with orange being so borderline a flavor, they actually
have to add less. Ergo, pineapples and oranges don't mix. Ergo,
you're lying."
"Damn." She wiggled her elfin nose, and was gone.

XD Amazing!

Sidetepping an errand boy, hustling a box of donuts, I
realized it was time for me to renew my license, and I'd better get
back in line. So I did.
License? I didn't need no steenking license! What was going
ON here?
I stepped out of line. And remembered the fine I had to pay.
I stepped back in.
AARGH! This was getting FRUSTRATING!

Oooooh, excellent illustration of mental manipulation

Her mastery, however, lay in lines. Sometimes Dendrites had
to endure lines, to get what we wanted, and she taught the clan how
to handle 'em. She'd surge to the front, as if the gravest insult
had just been dealt her by the cashier. With the look she gave,
the crowd actually leapt out of the way, to avoid the _stare._
When she'd get to the front, she'd summon all the inner reserves,
smile sweetly, and ask for a ticket.
And she'd get one. Free.
Damn she was evil. And good.

Hell yeah

"Um...some forms?" She lobbed them at me in a desperate
attempt to ensnare me. I repeated myself once again. Reality
shuddered, and the papers burst into flames.

Wow. X> That's pretty powerful.

"You've made my coat sooty."
She was too scared to breathe. With that phrase, her will
turned to Jello. And with that, she was mine.

Oh dang, that's another good line

Before me was a gaunt figure, wrapped snuggly in the embrace
of a straight jacket. He seemed almost...pitiful.
"Say..." I turned to my guide. She was gone. THis could be
bad.
"So...you've come to _gloat!_"
"Wha-"
"_GLOAT!_ Gloat, you simpering moron!" Somebody didn't take
their valium today. "Gloat before the imprisoned genius of _I,_
the Administrator!" He was getting rather animated now, hopping
around the cell.

Oh shit! *Fascinating*

So this case _was_ wrapped up. Damn. Wait. Maybe I could
let him go, and catch him again...

X3;

He continued to hobble around the cell. I took a quantum step
back, and took this all in. I _had_ seen this before. Again, and
again and again. It was like a...a broken record!
Every word, every movement, every gesture, being repeated over
and over. The only time there was change was when I instigated
change. Hm. For a master criminal, he sure sucked.

Innnnteresting.

"Before he left, did the good doctor sign any _papers?_"
"Oh, yes. The usual. Commital form. Care vouchers.
Medication invoices. All standard."
"Did the _patient_ give him any?"
"Why yes. Let's see...it think he said it was cosigner on a
loan."
"And he SIGNED it?!?"
"You have to understand. When they brought him to the cell,
the patient was raving like a banshee. He seemed utterly resistant
to any sedative, and the doctor was willing to do _anything_ to
shut him up. Besides, no harm done. He's in there right now."

Ohhhhhh, okay, that's _good_.

No Administrator had the money or the _taste_ to choose Gucci
loafers. And good Dr. Henry, the simp in the cell, had just become
a cosigner on a loan. Of his own identity.

NICE.

He looked at me sideways. "Say, you're not one of those
TrenchCoater guys, are you?"
"Nope."
"Whew! I thought I was a goner for sure. Lucky I had those
gxr4-17 "Special Dispensation / Legal Change of Identity" forms on
me when I was captured. Those idiots think I'm LOCKED UP!"

Ahhhhhh X3

The small man fell to his knees, a small drop, to be sure.
"PLEASE don't kill me! I just want to escape!"
"Why?"
"Uh...good question. I really hadn't considered it." He
stood. "I suppose to menace you at a later date."
"Oh. Cool, like a recurring villain."
"I suppose."

X3

For a moment, the lights grew dim. He chuckled evilly to
himself. "The Administrator, of course...BWWWAAHAHAHAHAH!"
"Might I make a suggestion?"
"Sure."
"End it on a vowel. Sounds MUCH more sinister that way."
"BWWWAAHAHAHAHAHA! Hey, you're right. Much better. Thanks."

"Um...revoke your Net Account?"
"Don't have one."

Then how did you post this :o

He was off like a bolt of lightning, paper trailing
everywhere. With his passing, another Strange Tingling Sensation
(tm) and something else cataclysmic, which I really wasn't privy
to, the Office faded from view. Chicago was back to normal...

huhhhhh interesting.

A shadow hovered over me. "Hey, kid. Yeah, you with the
gaping chest wound..."
I looked up. A figure, about 6 foot tall, with dirty blond
hair, and slowly puffing on the most foul cigarette I had ever
smelled, looked down at me. He, of course, was wearing a
Trenchcoat.

At least he has the decency not to *name* him. XP

Three hearty servings of Jello Brand Gelatin later, and I was
on my way, fit to travel. Another great tragedy had been averted,
and once again, I was on the sidelines. Damn. I needed to find
some trouble, and _fast._
I figured the best thing to do at this point was to shoot
right to the top. John Constantine. All I had to do was locate
him. If only I knew what he looked like...

Awwwww dangit. XP XP XP
Drew "does the Netromancer come back? I guess I'll see..." Nilium
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