Typheus
04-06-08, 08:31 PM
Now, before anyone judges me based on the material at hand, realize one simple thing.
There are a tremendous number of ideas that were poorly used. Some of them stories, some of them architecture, some of them practical tools that were downright outrageous.
There was one cartoon in particular I had always liked when I was a child, then hated, and then after maturing a bit, I realized that it was a very creative idea when it was first thought up. Everything that could be applied to it, all of the various places that were created just for the sake of completion, and everything in between.
Before I announce of the name of the cartoon, I'll post my story so as to not have any biases based on what this is, as I'm sure some of you would call it, a fanfic of.
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The humidity of the woods was suffocating as Typheus walked away from what should have been his grave. Yet, he survived, if only to have to trek his way through a forest in the weakest state he had ever been in. His head hurt, his limbs felt like they had boulders attached, and, worst of all, he had no idea where he was. This was mostly due to the fact that he had just experienced the closest thing he’d ever come to free flight: being flung who knows how many miles through the sky was never any fun.
And, of course, he had to land in the middle of nowhere, which he had never been in before. It was hard for him to even begin to think of where to go now, or if he should even go anywhere given what he saw before his cheated death. That, he thought, would never leave him.
A madman named Judas decided he wanted to stamp out the human race, so he grabbed the remnants of Team Rocket, an older group that had been nearly snuffed out. He grabbed thugs: soldiers, assassins, spies, and anything else his army needed right out of thin air, and it seemed as if they simply flocked to him one day. To make matters worse, he was also looking to open a door into another world to release countless others like him into our world, and he came so close. If only Typheus hadn’t had that sniper rifle, the world would have been as good as gone. He still had a sinking hole in his chest from killing that woman, but she would have died anyways, or at least that’s what Typheus wanted to think. That’s what he wanted to hope. That’s what he couldn’t put out of his mind.
“JUUUDAAAS!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, reflecting on the memories of the man who had decided to try and destroy everything that Typheus was charged with protecting. Judas wanted to smash it to bits, and laugh while doing it like the psycho that he was. Of course…Typheus couldn’t help but wonder why. The man was obviously very intelligent, he was successful, and he could probably manipulate anyone he wanted into doing whatever he wanted. So why try to destroy everything? The only reason Typheus could think of was for the fun of it… but he knew things were never that simple.
Before long, he was starting to feel dizzy, and realized he probably shouldn’t have screamed like that and wasted so much energy. He needed to rest, but without any equipment, he was going to have to sleep on the forest floor, and he’d been taught better than that.
Thankfully, he wasn’t as lost as he thought he was as he could hear nearby footsteps that seemed completely human. However, in this world you could never be sure; it could have been some kind of humanoid creature that would do him in the moment it saw him. It was difficult to trust one’s senses when you’re close to collapsing from exhaustion, which is the state he was in.
“Hello?” Typheus called out, not really caring whether it was human or not. His response wasn’t quite what he’d expected.
“Drop any weapons you’re carrying!” yelled a loud voice, as two men stepped into view from behind the trees. They were wearing military uniforms and pointing their rifles directly at him with a good amount of discipline. They were obviously in the same military as him, but it didn’t hurt to double check. One of them was slightly older than the other, and he was obviously better trained; the other looked inexperienced, but was trained in military basics.
“Are you fellas part of the United Militia?” he asked, putting his hands up to indicate he wasn’t trying to distract them so he could go for his weapon. It wasn’t customary for the prisoner to ask questions, but at least one of them didn’t mind.
“Depends who’s asking,” said one of them, lowering his weapon slightly, but the other kept his held up and shot a dirty look at his friend, who soon raised his weapon back up into firing position. The older one wasn’t as accepting.
“We will escort you to our base for further questioning,” said the more disciplined man as he signaled for his partner, a rookie, to go and check Typheus for any weapons he might have. He had none, because he lost them all after the events that lead him to this place. The only things he had were a Pokedex stuffed into his back pocket, and a multi-tool that was hidden in a compartment inside his right boot. The Pokedex was taken out, examined, tossed to the other soldier, examined by him, and then tossed back. Apparently they were both new at detaining prisoners and didn’t realize that someone could program almost anything they wanted into a Pokedex these days: from instructions, to a crippling virus. This suited Typheus just fine, as it was one more piece of equipment he got to keep.
When the soldiers were finished searching Typheus, they escorted him through the woods, taking care to keep their guns on him at all times. He didn’t know why, but something made him want to bust the more experienced one in the nose. It was probably because Typheus couldn’t stand arrogant types, and it was one of the things he hated most about Judas.
When they finally reached the base, he noticed it was just a glorified outpost: A large metal and stone complex with radio antennas and radar on top for communication, as well as various garages to hold vehicles and other equipment. There was a large fence surrounding it with barbed-wire coiled around the top. It wasn’t a top of the line base, but it would definitely provide a good defense. At least until reinforcements arrived.
“What is this place?” Typheus asked as he was taken inside the building. They didn’t answer him, but the rookie looked like he was about to before the other shot him another look that made him keep his mouth shut. It was obvious that the rookie either respected the other, or he was afraid of him. Most likely the latter from the way the man acted towards Typheus, which reminded him of a little punk who acted tough thanks to a few extra badges pinned onto his chest.
“Damn fool says he don’t even know where he’s at,” the punk said they took him into a decent sized room covered in green carpeting and filled with décor that made it seem as cozy as possible. A couple of pictures hung from the walls, both depicting typical art that’s made for a quick buck, and the desk was made out of something that looked expensive, but probably wasn’t. The military didn’t have the money to invest in a ridiculously expensive office. It obviously belonged to someone of great importance though, and he was sitting at the desk going over papers and photos; however, he quickly closed them at the sight of Typheus and addressed him.
“Who are you?” the general asked, sounding as though he was really out of patience for anything other than good news. They were obviously having some hard times here at this complex, and the arrival of a complete stranger who might be a spy couldn’t have made things any better.
As the general stood up, it was easy to see he was in the typical uniform for a man of great importance. The green suit with badges covering the chest area and the squared off shoulders to give him the look of a man wearing a green cardboard box, as well as the face that said he killed a lot of people and would kill many more before his service was done. Typheus only hoped that the general would listen to him.
“Sir, my name is Typheus Orikoma,” he stated, and no sooner had the words left his mouth than did the general send the rookie to go look up his name in the military archives. It would prove that he was a member of the United Militia, as well as one of the elite special ops agents. That, he thought, would score well with military status.
“Let’s pretend you’re telling the truth,” the general stated, still in his worn out state, “What are you doing here?”
“Sir, I was assigned a mission to infiltrate the Opener headquarters and stop Judas, but the mission was a failure and there was a large explosion-“ he began; however, the general interrupted him.
“Kid, that incident was over three hundred miles away…” the general said, making Typheus suddenly draw a blank.
Did he honestly survive getting thrown three hundred miles? He wasn’t superhuman, and he wasn’t that lucky as he knew for a fact. The impossibility of it left him dumbstruck.
“Sir, I don’t know what to tell you…” Typheus began, but the general finished for him.
“Just tell me if you think I’m an idiot…go on,” the general spoke in a tone that threatened to put Typheus out of his misery. It sent shivers up his spine, and made him regret telling the truth for once. In fact, he was tremendously happy when the rookie came back, obviously to tell the general about Typheus’s military record, or so he thought.
“Sir, he’s not registered as a soldier. We have no files on him at all,” he stated bluntly, and Typheus could see a small twinge of delight from the older soldier. He was obviously happy that he caught an intruder.
“Throw him in that girl we caught earlier,” the general said. “A few hours with her and interrogation won’t be an issue. Now get his ass out of here!”
Before he knew it, he was jerked around by the punk and pushed out of the office and down one of the many stone hallways of the building, realizing that it was starting to get late outside as the light in the windows was a dark orange.
“Thought you’d sneak in here on MY watch, did ya?” began the punk soldier, but Typheus cut him off.
“Listen here, you little bitch,” he said in the darkest voice he could muster. “If I had been an enemy, I would have grabbed your little friend there the moment he came to see if I had something, used him as a shield, and then I would have blown your god damned head off, so don’t start your arrogant bull with me. Got it!?”
“You could do no such thing. Now move. The door over on the left, go!” he exclaimed as he made a big mistake. He pointed at the door with his big rifle, and Typheus reached behind and pulled it out of his grip while simultaneously elbowing him in the nose. He then brought it around like he was going to smash the soldier’s face, but he stopped short, enjoying the look on the punk’s face. He could do no more anyways, because a passing guard had already targeted him and was ordering him to drop his weapon, which he did while giving the punk a little smile.
“Just…MOVE!” the soldier said through gritted teeth as he picked up the rifle and pointed it at Typheus’s face, forcing him to comply or get shot. It might not have been as bad as being thrown into that room if what the general said about the girl was true.
He soon found himself completely alert as he stood in front of the doorway to the room that he was to be held in. It was really dark in the room, most likely as part of a curfew for inmates so that they were better controlled, so he couldn’t see much except for various outlines. One outline sitting cross-legged in the center caught his attention as he was shoved inside, barely managing to avoid falling over.
The door slammed shut behind him, and the figure was starting to stir, so he moved as quietly as he could over to the beds to lay low for a bit. His mistake was not watching the floor and stepping on a loose vent cover, causing a decent amount of noise, and forcing him to dive down beside the bed.
There was a shuffling noise as the figure got up and looked at the door, hopefully too dazed by sleep to notice anything in the dark. It would probably have worked too, if his Pokedex hadn’t of slipped out of his back pocket and started babbling about Lucarios. Ironically, it wasn’t until then that it hit Typheus what the figure in the middle of the room was, and it wasn’t until then that the figure hit him as well.
She pounced on him just as he turned over and was reaching for his right boot. He managed to kick her off and pull out the multi-tool, but as soon as he clicked the knife out, it was knocked from his hand and sent flying to the other side of the room. Without it, he tried fighting with his fists, but as she detained him, he realized she was a bit too strong, and accepted defeat.
“Are you done?” she asked as he instinctively struggled a bit, only to realize he was getting nowhere.
“Only if you let me up,” he said, and she complied, but not before throwing his head back a bit. His body was in no condition to fight, and it was in worse condition after his struggle. This made climbing onto a bed the obvious choice, and since she took the one closest to the door, Typheus had the one in the corner, but when he climbed onto it, the Lucario seemed to dislike it.
“What are you doing on my bed?” she asked him, giving him the same look a cat would give a cornered mouse.
“Fine, then just let me on that bed over there…” he said as he slowly got up and started to move over.
“Let’s cut to the chase and say both of them are my bed,” she stated, making herself comfortable, while watching Typheus sit there on the floor.
“Lady, I don’t know what your problem is,” he said as he started to recall what had transpired not too long ago. “I’ve been sent on suicide missions, blown up, flung three hundred miles, captured by my own military, my Pokemon are all gone, and-“
“THAT’S MY PROBLEM!” she almost screamed. “You treat us as slaves for your damn wars and then you expect hospitality from us in return! Why should I treat any of you humans higher than dirt, when you’ve never done that for us!?”
“Can we PLEASE continue this discussion in the morning?” he begged her, hoping to try and get on a bed for at least tonight. He couldn’t believe he was getting talked down to by a four foot tall dog.
“Fine, you little coward!” she said huffily as she rolled over onto her side and fell asleep quite quickly. That was probably her way of saying “I’m tired too.”
Typheus took his chance and clambered up onto the bed in the corner, making sure he didn’t make a lot of noise to wake the psychotic Lucario up. He was worn out as if he were dead and still able to move, and sleeping on the floor wasn’t on his list of ways to recover being thrown three hundred miles through the air.
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Should I bother posting chapter 2? I mean I think I have a great idea, but I'd like to know if anything thinks it's actually worth anything :/
There are a tremendous number of ideas that were poorly used. Some of them stories, some of them architecture, some of them practical tools that were downright outrageous.
There was one cartoon in particular I had always liked when I was a child, then hated, and then after maturing a bit, I realized that it was a very creative idea when it was first thought up. Everything that could be applied to it, all of the various places that were created just for the sake of completion, and everything in between.
Before I announce of the name of the cartoon, I'll post my story so as to not have any biases based on what this is, as I'm sure some of you would call it, a fanfic of.
-----------------
The humidity of the woods was suffocating as Typheus walked away from what should have been his grave. Yet, he survived, if only to have to trek his way through a forest in the weakest state he had ever been in. His head hurt, his limbs felt like they had boulders attached, and, worst of all, he had no idea where he was. This was mostly due to the fact that he had just experienced the closest thing he’d ever come to free flight: being flung who knows how many miles through the sky was never any fun.
And, of course, he had to land in the middle of nowhere, which he had never been in before. It was hard for him to even begin to think of where to go now, or if he should even go anywhere given what he saw before his cheated death. That, he thought, would never leave him.
A madman named Judas decided he wanted to stamp out the human race, so he grabbed the remnants of Team Rocket, an older group that had been nearly snuffed out. He grabbed thugs: soldiers, assassins, spies, and anything else his army needed right out of thin air, and it seemed as if they simply flocked to him one day. To make matters worse, he was also looking to open a door into another world to release countless others like him into our world, and he came so close. If only Typheus hadn’t had that sniper rifle, the world would have been as good as gone. He still had a sinking hole in his chest from killing that woman, but she would have died anyways, or at least that’s what Typheus wanted to think. That’s what he wanted to hope. That’s what he couldn’t put out of his mind.
“JUUUDAAAS!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, reflecting on the memories of the man who had decided to try and destroy everything that Typheus was charged with protecting. Judas wanted to smash it to bits, and laugh while doing it like the psycho that he was. Of course…Typheus couldn’t help but wonder why. The man was obviously very intelligent, he was successful, and he could probably manipulate anyone he wanted into doing whatever he wanted. So why try to destroy everything? The only reason Typheus could think of was for the fun of it… but he knew things were never that simple.
Before long, he was starting to feel dizzy, and realized he probably shouldn’t have screamed like that and wasted so much energy. He needed to rest, but without any equipment, he was going to have to sleep on the forest floor, and he’d been taught better than that.
Thankfully, he wasn’t as lost as he thought he was as he could hear nearby footsteps that seemed completely human. However, in this world you could never be sure; it could have been some kind of humanoid creature that would do him in the moment it saw him. It was difficult to trust one’s senses when you’re close to collapsing from exhaustion, which is the state he was in.
“Hello?” Typheus called out, not really caring whether it was human or not. His response wasn’t quite what he’d expected.
“Drop any weapons you’re carrying!” yelled a loud voice, as two men stepped into view from behind the trees. They were wearing military uniforms and pointing their rifles directly at him with a good amount of discipline. They were obviously in the same military as him, but it didn’t hurt to double check. One of them was slightly older than the other, and he was obviously better trained; the other looked inexperienced, but was trained in military basics.
“Are you fellas part of the United Militia?” he asked, putting his hands up to indicate he wasn’t trying to distract them so he could go for his weapon. It wasn’t customary for the prisoner to ask questions, but at least one of them didn’t mind.
“Depends who’s asking,” said one of them, lowering his weapon slightly, but the other kept his held up and shot a dirty look at his friend, who soon raised his weapon back up into firing position. The older one wasn’t as accepting.
“We will escort you to our base for further questioning,” said the more disciplined man as he signaled for his partner, a rookie, to go and check Typheus for any weapons he might have. He had none, because he lost them all after the events that lead him to this place. The only things he had were a Pokedex stuffed into his back pocket, and a multi-tool that was hidden in a compartment inside his right boot. The Pokedex was taken out, examined, tossed to the other soldier, examined by him, and then tossed back. Apparently they were both new at detaining prisoners and didn’t realize that someone could program almost anything they wanted into a Pokedex these days: from instructions, to a crippling virus. This suited Typheus just fine, as it was one more piece of equipment he got to keep.
When the soldiers were finished searching Typheus, they escorted him through the woods, taking care to keep their guns on him at all times. He didn’t know why, but something made him want to bust the more experienced one in the nose. It was probably because Typheus couldn’t stand arrogant types, and it was one of the things he hated most about Judas.
When they finally reached the base, he noticed it was just a glorified outpost: A large metal and stone complex with radio antennas and radar on top for communication, as well as various garages to hold vehicles and other equipment. There was a large fence surrounding it with barbed-wire coiled around the top. It wasn’t a top of the line base, but it would definitely provide a good defense. At least until reinforcements arrived.
“What is this place?” Typheus asked as he was taken inside the building. They didn’t answer him, but the rookie looked like he was about to before the other shot him another look that made him keep his mouth shut. It was obvious that the rookie either respected the other, or he was afraid of him. Most likely the latter from the way the man acted towards Typheus, which reminded him of a little punk who acted tough thanks to a few extra badges pinned onto his chest.
“Damn fool says he don’t even know where he’s at,” the punk said they took him into a decent sized room covered in green carpeting and filled with décor that made it seem as cozy as possible. A couple of pictures hung from the walls, both depicting typical art that’s made for a quick buck, and the desk was made out of something that looked expensive, but probably wasn’t. The military didn’t have the money to invest in a ridiculously expensive office. It obviously belonged to someone of great importance though, and he was sitting at the desk going over papers and photos; however, he quickly closed them at the sight of Typheus and addressed him.
“Who are you?” the general asked, sounding as though he was really out of patience for anything other than good news. They were obviously having some hard times here at this complex, and the arrival of a complete stranger who might be a spy couldn’t have made things any better.
As the general stood up, it was easy to see he was in the typical uniform for a man of great importance. The green suit with badges covering the chest area and the squared off shoulders to give him the look of a man wearing a green cardboard box, as well as the face that said he killed a lot of people and would kill many more before his service was done. Typheus only hoped that the general would listen to him.
“Sir, my name is Typheus Orikoma,” he stated, and no sooner had the words left his mouth than did the general send the rookie to go look up his name in the military archives. It would prove that he was a member of the United Militia, as well as one of the elite special ops agents. That, he thought, would score well with military status.
“Let’s pretend you’re telling the truth,” the general stated, still in his worn out state, “What are you doing here?”
“Sir, I was assigned a mission to infiltrate the Opener headquarters and stop Judas, but the mission was a failure and there was a large explosion-“ he began; however, the general interrupted him.
“Kid, that incident was over three hundred miles away…” the general said, making Typheus suddenly draw a blank.
Did he honestly survive getting thrown three hundred miles? He wasn’t superhuman, and he wasn’t that lucky as he knew for a fact. The impossibility of it left him dumbstruck.
“Sir, I don’t know what to tell you…” Typheus began, but the general finished for him.
“Just tell me if you think I’m an idiot…go on,” the general spoke in a tone that threatened to put Typheus out of his misery. It sent shivers up his spine, and made him regret telling the truth for once. In fact, he was tremendously happy when the rookie came back, obviously to tell the general about Typheus’s military record, or so he thought.
“Sir, he’s not registered as a soldier. We have no files on him at all,” he stated bluntly, and Typheus could see a small twinge of delight from the older soldier. He was obviously happy that he caught an intruder.
“Throw him in that girl we caught earlier,” the general said. “A few hours with her and interrogation won’t be an issue. Now get his ass out of here!”
Before he knew it, he was jerked around by the punk and pushed out of the office and down one of the many stone hallways of the building, realizing that it was starting to get late outside as the light in the windows was a dark orange.
“Thought you’d sneak in here on MY watch, did ya?” began the punk soldier, but Typheus cut him off.
“Listen here, you little bitch,” he said in the darkest voice he could muster. “If I had been an enemy, I would have grabbed your little friend there the moment he came to see if I had something, used him as a shield, and then I would have blown your god damned head off, so don’t start your arrogant bull with me. Got it!?”
“You could do no such thing. Now move. The door over on the left, go!” he exclaimed as he made a big mistake. He pointed at the door with his big rifle, and Typheus reached behind and pulled it out of his grip while simultaneously elbowing him in the nose. He then brought it around like he was going to smash the soldier’s face, but he stopped short, enjoying the look on the punk’s face. He could do no more anyways, because a passing guard had already targeted him and was ordering him to drop his weapon, which he did while giving the punk a little smile.
“Just…MOVE!” the soldier said through gritted teeth as he picked up the rifle and pointed it at Typheus’s face, forcing him to comply or get shot. It might not have been as bad as being thrown into that room if what the general said about the girl was true.
He soon found himself completely alert as he stood in front of the doorway to the room that he was to be held in. It was really dark in the room, most likely as part of a curfew for inmates so that they were better controlled, so he couldn’t see much except for various outlines. One outline sitting cross-legged in the center caught his attention as he was shoved inside, barely managing to avoid falling over.
The door slammed shut behind him, and the figure was starting to stir, so he moved as quietly as he could over to the beds to lay low for a bit. His mistake was not watching the floor and stepping on a loose vent cover, causing a decent amount of noise, and forcing him to dive down beside the bed.
There was a shuffling noise as the figure got up and looked at the door, hopefully too dazed by sleep to notice anything in the dark. It would probably have worked too, if his Pokedex hadn’t of slipped out of his back pocket and started babbling about Lucarios. Ironically, it wasn’t until then that it hit Typheus what the figure in the middle of the room was, and it wasn’t until then that the figure hit him as well.
She pounced on him just as he turned over and was reaching for his right boot. He managed to kick her off and pull out the multi-tool, but as soon as he clicked the knife out, it was knocked from his hand and sent flying to the other side of the room. Without it, he tried fighting with his fists, but as she detained him, he realized she was a bit too strong, and accepted defeat.
“Are you done?” she asked as he instinctively struggled a bit, only to realize he was getting nowhere.
“Only if you let me up,” he said, and she complied, but not before throwing his head back a bit. His body was in no condition to fight, and it was in worse condition after his struggle. This made climbing onto a bed the obvious choice, and since she took the one closest to the door, Typheus had the one in the corner, but when he climbed onto it, the Lucario seemed to dislike it.
“What are you doing on my bed?” she asked him, giving him the same look a cat would give a cornered mouse.
“Fine, then just let me on that bed over there…” he said as he slowly got up and started to move over.
“Let’s cut to the chase and say both of them are my bed,” she stated, making herself comfortable, while watching Typheus sit there on the floor.
“Lady, I don’t know what your problem is,” he said as he started to recall what had transpired not too long ago. “I’ve been sent on suicide missions, blown up, flung three hundred miles, captured by my own military, my Pokemon are all gone, and-“
“THAT’S MY PROBLEM!” she almost screamed. “You treat us as slaves for your damn wars and then you expect hospitality from us in return! Why should I treat any of you humans higher than dirt, when you’ve never done that for us!?”
“Can we PLEASE continue this discussion in the morning?” he begged her, hoping to try and get on a bed for at least tonight. He couldn’t believe he was getting talked down to by a four foot tall dog.
“Fine, you little coward!” she said huffily as she rolled over onto her side and fell asleep quite quickly. That was probably her way of saying “I’m tired too.”
Typheus took his chance and clambered up onto the bed in the corner, making sure he didn’t make a lot of noise to wake the psychotic Lucario up. He was worn out as if he were dead and still able to move, and sleeping on the floor wasn’t on his list of ways to recover being thrown three hundred miles through the air.
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Should I bother posting chapter 2? I mean I think I have a great idea, but I'd like to know if anything thinks it's actually worth anything :/