F-Crew-Story-1

This is the first F-Crew story written by Zimra during round 21

ETA - ???

The Headquarters of F-crew lay hidden behind a field of asteroids somewhere in the deep unknown of outer space. It was a derelict looking building, riddled with graffiti and the tell-tale signs of multiple devastaing explosions. To the casual observer, the building looked like an abandoned mental instituion. What kind of people lived in here? Did anyone?

'Hey guys!' Zimra grinned widely as he walked into the main control room. 'What's happening?' Nobody answered him. As he looked through the room, he realized no one was there. Damn, he thought, what kind of idiot walks into an empty room and says hello? Where was everyone?

'Hellooo?' Nobody replied, except his own mocking echo. 'Well, then.

Guess I'll just go and tinker with the computer...'

'NO!' Yelled three voices in unison.

Imperial, Blizz and Maskaler appeared from underneath their desks. They looked at Zimra and sighed, then, realizing their mistake, tried to act naturally. Fortunately for them, Zimra was too caught up in other thoughts to realize that they had been hiding from him.

'What the hell where you doing under there? Blowing each other?' Zimra asked. 'You'd like that Zim.' Imperial spat back, angry at having been discovered.

'Stay the fuck away from the computer.' Maskaler said almost simultaneously, 'You'll just fuck it up.'

'Jeez, fuck you guys.' A look of sadness spread across Zimra's face for a second, then was replaced by a cocky grin. 'I've got an attack to go on anyway. It's AWESOME, I'm going to make so much money! So, catch you later.' With that said, he quickly exited.

'Fucking queer.' Imperial sighed.

Blizz nodded in agreement.

ETA - ???

Zimra walked out of the control room and started to make his way to the Headquarters docking bay. The long winding corridors of the HQ were mostly empty, but he passed a few familiar faces along the way. Mically gave him a nod as he passed, then went back to reading his CV, preparing for another nine job applications.

'HEY!' Yelled a voice behind him.

Zimra turned to and came face to face with Rob.

'Hey rob, what's up?' He asked impatiently.

'Man, wanna come with me on an attack? Wave 3? Anti-Co?'Rob begged, staring with pleading eyes.

'No thanks, I've got other plans.'

'Come on! I need a partner!'

'I really have to go, Rob.'

'F..F...FUCK YOU!' Rob screamed uncharacteristically and then ran off down the corridor. He continued yelling, jumping at anyone he passed, 'DOES ANYONE WANT TO TEAM UP WITH MY CO???'

Eventually, around 20 minutes later, Zimra remembered his way to the docking bay. As soon as he entered, he was met with a scene of intense action and confusion. Hundreds of ships lay scattered on the floor or floating in the air, most of them with parts missing and custom logos spray-painted on them. He spotted Sakato's ship, 'McMinge6', but couldn't seem to see the pilot.

People ran past in every direction, so fast that he barely had time to make out their faces, let alone greet them. Zimra stood there for a while, smoking a cigarette, looking for someone in particular.

'Hey Zim!' A familar voice whispered behind him. A hand grabbed his ass and gave it a squeeze.

'Lionne?' He whirled round and his suspicions were confirmed. 'How are you baby?'

'I'm good tbfh.' Lionne replied.

'Did you just *say* tbfh? You're not supposed to abbreviate it when you say it, only when you type it.'Zimra corrected him.

'What do you mean I can't say it?' Confusion was painted across Lionnes face. He looked like a sad puppy.

'It just sounds like a bunch of letters, it doesn't make any sense. It reads better than it sounds.'

'Oh... Well, I don't give a shit tbfh.'

'L..' Zimra gritted his teeth, trying not to say it. 'Lol.'

During this little discourse, Juice had been walking past them. He looked them over, took a swig of beer, and sighed deeply.

'Grow up, you fucking idiots.' Juice threw the empty can at them and walked off.

Lionne and Zimra paused for a second, then shrugged, and continued talking.

'So, what's been happening in F-Crew today? Anything new?' Zimra tossed his cigarette away while he spoke, not bothering to look where it landed.

'Well, a lot, actually. Beth decided she didn't like the way we run things here, even though she likes the members. So she's gone off and formed a splinter-alliance.'

'She did WHAT?' A few people turned as Zimra yelled out. 'What's it called?'

'Beth-Crew.' Lionne replied, supressing a grin. 'She's got record members for a new alliance. Markie, Entropy and Hawk have already left for it.'

'Fuck me. How is everyone taking this?'

'Grif said he didn't want to live anymore and he was converting to another faith. Nobody else really cared. They already have a girlfriend or just don't want any e-pussy. Oh, and-'

Lionne was cut off as music suddenly blared throughout the room. It seemed to be coming from every direction, and it was so loud that they had to cover their ears.

'COME ON!!' A distorted voice screamed, along with the music. 'LET'S DANCE! Y M C A ! COME ON PEOPLE!!'

'Shit.' Lionne shouted to Zimra, barely making himself heard, 'Sharkbait is on DJ duty. Let's get the hell out of here!'

'I've got to go anyway!' Zimra yelled back. 'I've got a mission to go on. I'll see you later, baby.'

'Bye lover!'

Meanwhile, a small plume of smoke rose unnoticed into the air. Zimra's discarded cigarette smouldered happily in a pile of trash, greedily devouring anything it could touch.

ETA - 9

A gigantic battleship slowly made it's way out of F-Crew HQ's docking bay. It was the biggest ship in the entire alliance, piloted by the biggest dick in the entire alliance.

Zimra fiddled with the controls, carefully manuvering the ship out into space. He hit a button by mistake and fired one of the reverse thrusters, completely eradicating Fatrick from existence in less than a second. Nobody else noticed, least of all Zimra, and he continued his manuveres. The ship was imaginatively named by Zimra 'HMS CFS', His Majesties Ship, Cool Fucking Ship. Being a dumbass, he hadn't realised that there was a 'Ship' in HMS, and just referred to it as 'His Majesties.'

The crew of the CFS jokingly said that the letters stood for 'Compensating for something.' However, after their captain had somehow seduced one of the ships nursing staff, they weren't sure whether it was a joke anymore.

Other ships in the F-Crew Alliance shared similar namesakes. Imperials vessel of choice was a rather miniscule one entitled 'Proud to be Small.' Anima was the captain of 'Size doesn't matter.' Wakey, on the other hand, didn't even have a ship at all.

'All hands, this is your Captain speaking.' Zimra announced over the intercom. 'We will be on route to the target shortly. And, if anyone has seen GiR, please report straight to the bridge.'

Zimra leant back in his chair and relaxed. Now there wasn't much to do but to get to the target. It was actually kind of boring. Deciding that to talk to someone would be more interesting, he hit a red button on the console infront of him.

The door slid open behind him, and he heard someone walk in.

'Yes, Captain?' It was his second in command, he recognised the voice instantly. The rest of the crew referred to him as the 'whipping boy' or just 'slut'.

'Hey Desert Foxxy, how's it going?'

'Really?' Zimra sat up in his chair, looking interested. 'What should I call you now? McMinge7?'

'No, I'm Desert Fag now.'

'Get out.'

'No'

Fox advanced on Zimra. The door slid shut behind him.

--

Eta - 8

'Captain!' Fox yelled from his position on the floor. He was half dressed and his hair was dishevelled. 'There's an incoming transmission from F-Crew HQ!'

'Patch it through to my console, Mr Fag.' Zimra ordered. His breathing was laboured and his face red.

'Aye Sir!'

-- INCOMING TRANSMISSION - ALL CHANNELS - STANDARD BROADCAST

c:\Documents and Settings\user\ApplicationData\Real\RealPlayer\History\Bukkake - XXX Porn GGG Teen Sperm Gan....lnk c:\Documents and Settings\user\ApplicationData\Real\RealPlayer\History\Ggg-Teenie Im Spermagewitter (Xxx Cum....lnk c:\Documents and Settings\user\Desktop\New Folder (4)\Adele Stephens\Assorted\Adele Stephens xxx 03.jpg c:\Documents and Settings\user\Desktop\New Folder (4)\Adele Stephens\Hardcore\Adele Stephens xxx06 big tits blowjobs blonde bondage.jpg c:\Documents and Settings\user\Desktop\New Folder (4)\Adele Stephens\Hardcore\Adele Stephens xxx16 big tits blowjobs blonde bondage teen anal lesbo busty sylvia saint veronica zemanova pamela anderson.jpg

END OF TRANSMISSION -- 'Oh, that's just Juice again.' Zimra flicked off the monitor with a lazy motion, dripping sweat on the keyboard.

'Well, shall we get back to it?' Desert Fag winked at him.

'Yes, back to the grind.'

The two of them got back to their feet and headed towards a pair of exercise bikes.

'God, I hate working out.' Zimra complained. 'I'd rather be having sex.'

An hour later, Zimra had finished his work out and was wandering about the ship, greeting friendly crew members as he went, and sending the less friendly ones to the Brig. Skrittak, the master of the Brig, would deal with them in a hasty manner. He liked the young boys most, and Zimra made sure he sent plenty of them.

'You, boy!' Zimra barked, stopping a running kid in his tracks.

'Y-Yes Captain?' The boy replied timidly.

'What's your name, and rank?'

'Lillieman, Captain.'

'And rank?'

'I don't have one.'

'Why not?'

'I'm only 9 years old C-Captain. My dad is the one who works here.'

'No RANK? TO THE BRIG WITH YOU!'

A couple of security guards grabbed Lillieman and quickly dragged him off as he screamed in protest. Zimra laughed and continued walking along the corridor, stopping in front of 'Crew Cabin 666'. He knocked and the door opened.

'GiR? You in here?' He walked cautiously into the room. It was dark and dingy, full of posters of various animes and other more hardcore paraphernalia. Zimra spied a shadow in the corner, holding something metallic that glinted in the scant light cast by a pornographic screensaver.

'Zim? That you?' His face emerged from the shadows. He was holding a revolver, pointed at Zimra. 'Oh, man, you gotta hear what I've done. I've been working on the Russian Roulette all day long!'

'Don't point that thing at me!'

'Sorry, hehehe.' GiR laughed, sounding slightly hysterical. He was animatedly waving the gun while he talked. 'I programmed in a self-death code, so you have a chance to kill yourself! So, you gotta handle the thing carefully.'

'Whats the chance of it happening?'

'Well, it's about one in twenty four.' He pointed the gun at his head to peer down the barrel.

'Don't fucking do that!' Zimra flinched, backing away.

'Do what?' He pointed the gun at Zimra.

'Fuck you!'

Zimra quickly ran out of the room, hearing a pronounced *click* behind him. Shit, he thought, that was fucking close, he could have killed me. He stopped halfway down the corridor, gasping for breath, more out of fear than exhaustion.

'Calm down, I was kidding!'GiR walked out of his room. BANG! GiR's head exploded in a bloody shower, painting the wall a vivid crimson. His lifeless body crumpled to the floor in a heap, haloed by a rapidly spreading pool of blood.

Zimra stared, stunned. GiR was dead. His friend... Dead. Oh well.

'I'll take that.' He picked up the revolver and wiped off a chunk of brain, shrugging slightly. 'He doesn't need it anymore.'

--

ETA 6

'Captain!' Desert Fag tapped him on the shoulder. 'I've set up your transmission to the HQ.'

'Good work Fag. On screen.'

Blizz appeared on the monitor. Zimra always thought Blizz had looked better before he became a Cyborg, and had even tried to stop him doing it. But Blizz had wanted to last more than 15 minutes in sex, and had modified his whole body to give himself more control and multiple appendages.

'Yes?' Blizz said in a faintly metallic voice. He didn't bother looking at the monitor, as he was busy fiddling with a circuit on his leg.

'Hey, got any news on my attack?' Zimra said.

'For fucks sake,' Blizz said as he looked at the screen, 'It's Zim.' He sighed and shook his head in disgust. 'No news on your attack, but we had a fire in the docking bay after you left, we still aren't sure of the reason but it looks to be caused by a cigarette.'

'Oh, that sucks.' Zimra flushed guilty. 'Did anything get damaged?'

'Jonny was killed when the fire engulfed his ship. He was busy working on repairs.' Blizz fixed his robotic eyes on Zimra.

'Shit.' He tried to think up an excuse. Suddenly, another light on his console blinked crazily, begging for attention. 'I have another transmission, I have to go. Bye shit head!'

Blizz's cybernetic face was replaced by the happy, glowing face of Puss.

'Hey Zim, how is it going? You got your alarm set?' She asked, pointing a threatening finger at him.

'Yep, I'll see you this morning for the attack, right?'

'Okay. But you better wake up this time, you lazy ass.'

'I will, I swear to god.'

'You better.'

The transmission cut off abrubtly, leaving Zimra staring at an empty screen. He sighed, set his alarm for 3 hours, and walked off to get a quick nap.

--

ETA - 1

Zimra awoke to the sound of alarm bells ringing throughout the ship. Red light flared, coating all the surfaces like blood. He stumbled groggigly to his feet, accidentally smashing the alarm clock, and sleepily made his way to the control room.

'Captain! Where have you been?' Desert Fag asked with worry in his voice.

'You've got a message, it was left for you a while ago. I think you should read it, it sounds important.'

Zimra blew out a long gout of smoke and flicked a switch on his console. Puss's face appeared on the screen again, creased with anger that seemed to flow out of the screen itself.

'You didn't wake up! You lazy ass! That's it! That's the last time! I'm recalling, you're on your own!'

The cigarette fell from his mouth. Shit!

'Wait, Puss, I didn't mean it! I was, uh, held up!' He didn't realise he was talking to an empty screen.

Abrubtly the alarms ringing throughout the ship stopped, and a large monitor blinked into life on the wall. It showed a single, lonely planted, surrounded by a belt of asteroids. Arranged in neat rows where thousands of Asteroid Pods. A few of them where happily towing their burdens around and moving others into different positions. It was like they were arranging a giant Art-Attack picture.

'Hah!' Zimra grinned, forgetting all about Puss. 'This is it! Eight hundred roids, and only twenty thousand pods!'

'This should be easy, Captain.' Fag smiled at him. 'You are great at picking targets.'

'I know, I know. I can't believe this idiot doesn't have any ships. What a fucking pushover this is going to be.' He laughed loudly, starting to sound slightly insane. 'Let's get these fucking roids! All hands, battle stations! Open fire!'

The ship rocked as the forward guns fired. Zimra watched the path of the shots as they headed towards the pots. Closer... Closer... BANG!

The Pod was completely unharmed. Something had blocked the shot, but he didn't know what.

'Captain?' Fag whimpered, looking scared. 'What's going on?' 'Uh, what race is this guy?'

Out of nowhere, hundreds of thousands of ships appeared, shimmering as they phased into sight. They all had their guns trained on the CFS, over two hundred thousand in total, and looked ready to fire.

Zimra said one single word: 'Fuck.'

Two hundred and fifty thousand guns fired at once.

--

ETA - Unknown

A great cheer ran through the F-Crew HQ as confirmation of Zimra's death reached them. A great celebration was held. Booze of all varieties flowed freely, and certain illicit substances made their rounds. Everyone was in a good mood. Well, almost everyone.

'Hey, Grif, why the long face?' Lionne asked. 'Come on man, let's party! Tbfh, I never liked Zim anyway.'

'First Beth... Now Zimra... How can I go on?' Grif sighed.

In one swift motion he opened his coat, revealing row upon row of C4 explosives strapped to his chest. Lionne gasped and turned to run as Grif held up a handheld detonation device.

'Since I can't kill Zimra, I'll just have to kill myself. FOR ALLAH! !bomb F-Crew'

The F-Crew HQ was blown to pieces in an instant.

Only one person was left.

Blizz, the Cyborg. Although the explosion had destroyed all of his appendages, so he might as well be dead too.