Team 3000 (Devastron)
Hero: Flexo
Nemesis: Bender B. Rodriguez
Hero: Professor Hubert J. Farnsworth
Nemesis: Dr. Ogden Wernstrom
“Good news everyone!” The Professor walked into the Planet Express meeting room. “Our next assignment is taking us to a strip club-“
“WOOHOO!” Bender jumps out of his seat, does a little dance, grabs a bottle of booze and cigar from his chest. He chugs the booze, belches flame to light the cigar and puffs on it happily. “Finally a mission worth while!”
“Oh wait,” the professor finally continued, “a non-stripping strip club.”
“What!” In a fit of anger Bender flings the bottle at the wall and sits down, angrily puffing his cigar.
“A non-stripping strip club? That’s a brilliant idea!” Flexo adds. “Nah, I’m just joshing ya, that’s idiotic!”
Wernstrom sniffs, annoyed at the robots antics. “So what exactly are we supposed to do at this non-stripping strip club?”
“Uh, yes, it seems its been taken over by mountain trolls…”
“That’s impossible! The Mountain trolls of Sigma Epsilon 7 were wiped out in a war with the Large Hill Gnomes of Beta Gamma 9 back in 2736!” Wernstrom interjected.
“Well apparently they didn’t get all of them,” Farnsworth continued. “Anyway they have take over the stage and the bar and are taking all of the money and tips for themselves. We have to remove the trolls, save the staff and….oh my.”
“What? What is it you doddering old fool!” Wernstrom snatches the paper from Farnsworth. “while role-playing your nemesis?!..oh lord.”
Sometime later, the Planet Express Ship docks at the citadel, its crew disembarking and head to Chora’s Den. Bender has attached his magnetic goatee to his chin while Flexo has wrapped a fashionable scarf around his neck. Wernstrom exits wearing a bald skull cap and a pair of ridiculous glasses. Farnsworth walks out wearing a giant afro wig, unable to clearly see how much hair his nemesis truly has.
The team strolls into the club, splitting up. Flexo begins casing the place, looking for the best way to rob it. Bender walks up to the nearest male dancer. “Hello, my name is Flexo, and I’d like a private dance.” Once they are alone he promptly knocks him out with a baseball bat and disguises himself, poorly, as a troll. He takes his place and begins raking in tips from the poor deprived clientele who are excited to see anything that isn’t a troll. “Everybody loves that new Troll dancer, Flexo!” he exclaims to anyone who will listen.
The professor promptly heads to the middle of the club. “Look at me! I’m a young youthful idiot! Watch me dance!” He attempts a stumbling shuffling dance until there is a loud and ugly snapping sound. “Ohhhh! I just got those hips replaced too!”
Wernstrom heads straight to the bar and talks to the bartender. “Excuse me, I’m a doddering old idiot and don’t know what’s going on. Why have you trolls taken over this establishment?”
“We are the last of our kind. We’re tryin’ to raise funds to raise an army to get revenge on those no good gnomes that nearly wiped us out!”
“Oh, is that all? Well I’m senile and don’t really know what I’m doing, but I do have an assortment of doomsday weapons. I could give you one if you leave this bar and return the staff to their jobs safely.” With a deal struck Wernstrom provides the Trolls with a doomsday weapon as the Professor is carted off for his 15th hip replacement.
Before the staff can retake their positions Bender tears off his Troll disguise. “Hahah! It was I, Flexo, taking all of the tips all along! You’ll never catch me!” He makes a mad dash out of the club, running over to the real Flexo who has stolen the money from the register in his attempt to imitate Bender. Bender ditches his fake goatee, hides his stolen look in his chest and rips the scarf off of Flexo. He points at Flexo and begins yelling at the Trolls and security rapidly approaching. “Look! It’s the thief! Flexo!”
The Trolls grab Flexo as the robot drops the bag. “I’m innocent! I mean, I’m sort of innocent! I was only pretending to be the real thief, but I guess I stole the real money, but I was gonna return it!”
A chuckling Bender adds Flexo’s loot to his own and walks away whistling.
[b][b]Team Three Doctors and a Captain
Indiana Jones (Dr Henry Jones Jr) * Dr. Rene Belloq / Dr. Horrible * Captain Hammer
[/b][/b]
Location: Space Station Citadel: Chora’s Den
[i]Captain Hammer strolled into Chora’s Den and looked around. He usually liked to see who was looking at him when he entered a room. I mean, he knew he was awesome, but it’s always nice to see who else thot so too.
The team had just arrived at Citadel and the others had already headed to Chora’s Den. Hammer stopped first to run some water through his hammer. Hey, it was a long space ride.
Hammer walked over to where Dr. Horrible was sitting at the bar and tapped him on the shoulder. The Doc flinches. Almost spills his drink.[/i]
Capt. Hammer: Hey, What’s up doc? Mind if I join you.
Dr. Horrible: W…what?! You startled me. Please …don’t sneak up on me like that.
Capt. Hammer: i [/i]How come you flinch whenever you see me?
Dr. Horrible: Because… every time we meet you either beat me or dislocate my shoulder …up or steal whatever girl I’m interested in? And…there’s that one time you THREW A CAR AT MY HEAD, so… yeah. Those are the reasons.
Capt. Hammer: Ha! The car. Ha! I remember that. Good times. Anyway, let’s try to get along, ‘kay? We’re suppose to try that new Nemesis Therapy technique were we role-play each other, right? You must be excited about that. I mean, look at me. You see these arm muscles? (flexes his arms).
Dr. Horrible: i. [/i]Fine. How’s this: (puffs out his chest). I’m Captain Hammer. I see you’ve gotta a crush on that nice girl over there with the …lovely hair. Well, I’m gonna take that little cutie back to my place. Show her the command center, Hammercycle, maybe even the Hamjet.
Capt. Hammer:: i.[/i] I totally don’t talk like that!
Dr. Horrible: You so do. Okay, now you role-play me.
Capt. Hammer: Okay. How’s this: Ouch! OW! Not my shoulder again!! Put down that car, you superstrong dashing superhero!!! i[/i] Pretty good, huh?
Dr. Horrible: Ugg. (considers). Well … come to think of it, we haven’t had a ton of conversation where I’m doing any talking.
Capt. Hammer: People do get speechless in my presence. Mostly it’s the chicks though, when they’re drinking in my awesomeness, know what I mean?
Dr. Horrible: (sigh) This nemesis therapy isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes I don’t even feel like the villain. What is wrong with me?
Capt. Hammer: Huh? Sorry, I wasn’t listening. Hey, where’s our two Architect comrades at?
Dr. Horrible: They’re archeologists, not arc…(sigh) whatever. Over at there behind us at the other section of the bar.
— THE END —
Note: To translate any of Belloq’s french profanities, chick here http://www.youswear.com/index.asp?language=French
