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beansideOh, I'm on so much crack. This is a follow up toWyoming Elfman in the Cavern of Really Bad Things
Title: *NSync: Making the Evil Plot 1/2
Rating: C for Crack.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. Parody, actually, to be exact. so yeah, didn't happen.
Notes: This one's for Ivy and all my other popslashers who are still down about the election.
When we last left America's Evil Pop Sweethearts, their last evil plot had been thwarted by Wyoming Elfman. We join them now, as our intrepid reporter begins his documentary on the making of their evil plans.
"I just want you to know that the National Tattler and Timeless Entertainment really want to thank you all for letting us have this unprecedented access to you as you make your next evil plot," the cheerful reporter says.
Justin raises one hand in a negligent wave. "Not a problem, yo." He reaches up and fluffs the golden mass of curls on his head.
"Just as long as you remember the ground rules," the rather geeky looking blonde mutters, glancing up from his laptop. "No video unless it's cleared through me, no videotaping of the grounds, and you absolutely may not go into the south tower unless it's with Chris or I."
"Got it."
The winds blows high on the mountain, sending a chill wind through the corridors of their Super-secret Fortress of Darkness©, high among the cliffs of Mount Serenity.
"Aaaaaaaaah….." the castle breathes a softly musical note.
"Aaaagh!" JC wails. "I hate this fucking place! All day long, it's making that noise. How is one supposed to be an evil mastermind when the damned thing is constantly singing a soothing note at you?"
"I know," Justin says seriously. "Just yesterday, I was working on my evil laughter, yo, and the thing just starts singing at me like Enya on crack or somethin. It's just wack."
"Mount Serenity doesn't exactly strike fear into the heart, you know," Chris agrees.
The laptop closes with a snap, and Lance looks up, irritation in his jade eyes. "Look, it's not my fucking fault that Disney built on top of Mount Doom! Do you really want to pay that kind of rent? We wouldn't have any cash left for the You-Know-What©."
"Not to mention funding space trips," Chris mutters.
"Hey! It was publicity. We can't be all evil plots and world domination. Everyone has to have a softer side."
"We're evil tyrants," JC says plaintively.
"But we're evil tyrants with good PR. And you need that. Look at what the softer side did for Sears! And look at what bad PR did to Martha Stewart," he says hesitantly.
They all shudder.
"Look, it's only an eight hour day, then we're out of here, back to the house."
"You don't live here?"
Lance looks at him like he'd just suggested shopping at Kmart. "God, no."
The wind blows again, and the ethereal singing fills the castle.
"That would drive me crazy," Joey adds.
"It's in the key of E," JC explains.
"Only total jackoffs sing in E," Justin adds.
Chris suddenly rushes Joey, knocking him off his chair, onto the floor, and a wrestling match ensues. The others don't even blink.
"Uh. What is he doing?" the interviewer asks hesitantly.
"We all have ways of dealing with the stress of being an evil overlord," Lance says mildly. "Frankly, I'd rather him do that then take one of the ATVs and reenact the Mongol hordes coming off the mountain in one of the villages."
"That just wouldn't be cool, yo," Justin says reasonably.
"Don't you think that might be a little bit of an unhealthy way to reduce stress?"
"Hey! Chris is my dawg, man," Justin snaps. "Don't be dissin' him."
"Oh, there's much stress relief to be found in sinking a sword into living flesh, feeling the bite of the blade through the skin, the wash of blood over your hands," JC says earnestly. "Hearing the screams of the dying are a wonderful catharsis."
Lance stops sipping his cappuccino, staring at JC. "Moving on," he says hastily. "We rented a house down in the foothills of Mount Doom, on Mount Minor Chafing. It's a lovely Victorian in a really nice neighborhood."
"Good school system," Joey adds from the floor.
"Don't your neighbors worry about having evil supervillans in the neighborhood?"
"Nah, it's actually kind of a relief. As long as we're there, the minor riff-raff stay away. And since the hero won't ever attack our house, it's cool," Chris says, coming back to the group, smoothing his hair down.
"Feel better, bro?" Justin asked.
"Much."
"Does he always talk like that?" the interviewer asked irritably. "Like Ebonics on speed?"
Justin blinked. "Not always, just in interviews. I find that if I speak poorly, then people dismiss me as just another white boy who's trying to fit into the hip hop scene, thereby having one of two effects. Either they think I'm too stupid to be a threat, or they feel that if I'm emulating the "street thug" lifestyle, consider me more dangerous. Either way, it suits my purpose. It's quite gratifying to take one's opponent by surprise, don't you think?"
"Uh. Yeah."
"Dammit, Justin, did you have to tell him that?" Lance mutters.
"Now, we're going to have to adjust his memory!" Chris agrees.
"You know I hate that song," Lance reminds him.
"Sorry. Shall we?"
"Yeah, go for it," Lance mutters.
"There's a thousand words that I can say," Justin sings, clear and high.
The interviewer stares, terrified as the others join in.
"Been sitting here, trying to get you off my mind, trying my best to be a man and be strong."
His eyes begin to glaze over slowly.
"The truth remains, you're Go-"
"Dammit, Lance, can't you sing the fucking word? It's one syllable. Gone. The truth remains, you're gone. Sing it!"
"Fuck you. I'll sing what I goddamned well want, or I'll have our bank account moved to a nice numbered Swiss account so fast your little bling-bling head will spin."
The interviewer stirs, blinking. "What happened?"
"You fell asleep," Joey says quickly. "Sorry if we bored you."
"Yo," Justin mutters resentfully.
"Oh, sorry about that."
"No problem. Lance pulls a cord, and a soft female voice rings through the corridor. "Paging Igor. Igor to the Fairly Good hall, please."
"Igor will show you to your room," Chris says gently. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we're taking you to Mount Doom for a visit to the amusement complex."
"You haven't lived until you've ridden the Transylvanian Blood Mobile!" Joey says enthusiastically.
"Oh. Good," the interviewer murmurs. "In the meantime, is there a gift shop? I feel the urge to buy exorbitant amounts of *NSync Officially Licensed Merchandise."
"First floor," JC says.
"Ah, Igor," Lance stands up as a blonde enters the room.
"You're Nick Carter!" the interviewer blurts. "What are you doing here?"
"Hey, after my solo album tanked, what else was I going to do? Besides, they offer health insurance, a 401k, and dental!"
"Ahem. Igor. Take--what's your name, anyway?" Lance asks.
"Uh. Daniel."
"Daniel to his room," Lance finishes, flinching. After they've left the room, he rolls his eyes. "Daniel? Shit. Our interviewer is Daniel? Anne Rice is gonna be pissed."
"Oh, fuck her. She can't even keep the fanfic writers in check."
"Look, now that he's gone, can we get back down to business?" Justin asks.
"Not a problem," Chris says. "Lance, how is the You-Know-What© coming in its development?"
"Pretty well. We just need to get a power supply, and we think we're good to go. The prototype worked, but it's also twenty times smaller."
"What would happen if we plugged it into an outlet?" JC asked.
"We'd blow the power for a 20 mile radius. Which, granted, is pretty evil, but kind of pointless," Lance says dryly. "We need something bigger."
"Hydropower?" JC suggests.
"Nuclear?" Chris offers.
"Not enough. We need antimatter." Lance rubs his temples.
"Shit," Joey curses. "Where are we supposed to get that?"
"Surely you're not suggesting that we should-" Justin begins.
"Break into SkyNet Technologies? Yes. And don't call me Shirley."
"SkyNet?" Chris repeats. "As in 'I'll be back,' SkyNet?"
Joey squints at the sky. "She's just trying to piss everyone off, isn't she?"
"Er, anyway, they have an antimatter generator, and containment device. We'll have to go and fetch it."
"Can't we send Igor?" Justin whines.
"No!" Joey says quickly. "He's got the brains of a fence post. Do I need to remind you of the backstreetboys dot www dot com fiasco?"
"Computer? Where is Igor?"
"Igor is currently in the east tower," it answers pleasantly. "He appears to be circling the perimeter."
"Visual display," Lance orders.
A holographic representation of the corridors in the east tower pop up, complete with two little red heat sources. They watch as the red dots walk two complete circles around the tower.
"Computer, broadcast my voice in the east tower," Chris snaps. "Nick, fucking turn left already! You're going in circles! End transmission."
The red dots stop, then turn left at the next intersection.
"You want to send that?" Lance asks. "If we're lucky, he'll bring us back a toy from McDonalds. No, we'll have to go ourselves. Tomorrow, after we visit Mount Doom."
(TBC)
Title: *NSync: Making the Evil Plot 1/2
Rating: C for Crack.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. Parody, actually, to be exact. so yeah, didn't happen.
Notes: This one's for Ivy and all my other popslashers who are still down about the election.
When we last left America's Evil Pop Sweethearts, their last evil plot had been thwarted by Wyoming Elfman. We join them now, as our intrepid reporter begins his documentary on the making of their evil plans.
"I just want you to know that the National Tattler and Timeless Entertainment really want to thank you all for letting us have this unprecedented access to you as you make your next evil plot," the cheerful reporter says.
Justin raises one hand in a negligent wave. "Not a problem, yo." He reaches up and fluffs the golden mass of curls on his head.
"Just as long as you remember the ground rules," the rather geeky looking blonde mutters, glancing up from his laptop. "No video unless it's cleared through me, no videotaping of the grounds, and you absolutely may not go into the south tower unless it's with Chris or I."
"Got it."
The winds blows high on the mountain, sending a chill wind through the corridors of their Super-secret Fortress of Darkness©, high among the cliffs of Mount Serenity.
"Aaaaaaaaah….." the castle breathes a softly musical note.
"Aaaagh!" JC wails. "I hate this fucking place! All day long, it's making that noise. How is one supposed to be an evil mastermind when the damned thing is constantly singing a soothing note at you?"
"I know," Justin says seriously. "Just yesterday, I was working on my evil laughter, yo, and the thing just starts singing at me like Enya on crack or somethin. It's just wack."
"Mount Serenity doesn't exactly strike fear into the heart, you know," Chris agrees.
The laptop closes with a snap, and Lance looks up, irritation in his jade eyes. "Look, it's not my fucking fault that Disney built on top of Mount Doom! Do you really want to pay that kind of rent? We wouldn't have any cash left for the You-Know-What©."
"Not to mention funding space trips," Chris mutters.
"Hey! It was publicity. We can't be all evil plots and world domination. Everyone has to have a softer side."
"We're evil tyrants," JC says plaintively.
"But we're evil tyrants with good PR. And you need that. Look at what the softer side did for Sears! And look at what bad PR did to Martha Stewart," he says hesitantly.
They all shudder.
"Look, it's only an eight hour day, then we're out of here, back to the house."
"You don't live here?"
Lance looks at him like he'd just suggested shopping at Kmart. "God, no."
The wind blows again, and the ethereal singing fills the castle.
"That would drive me crazy," Joey adds.
"It's in the key of E," JC explains.
"Only total jackoffs sing in E," Justin adds.
Chris suddenly rushes Joey, knocking him off his chair, onto the floor, and a wrestling match ensues. The others don't even blink.
"Uh. What is he doing?" the interviewer asks hesitantly.
"We all have ways of dealing with the stress of being an evil overlord," Lance says mildly. "Frankly, I'd rather him do that then take one of the ATVs and reenact the Mongol hordes coming off the mountain in one of the villages."
"That just wouldn't be cool, yo," Justin says reasonably.
"Don't you think that might be a little bit of an unhealthy way to reduce stress?"
"Hey! Chris is my dawg, man," Justin snaps. "Don't be dissin' him."
"Oh, there's much stress relief to be found in sinking a sword into living flesh, feeling the bite of the blade through the skin, the wash of blood over your hands," JC says earnestly. "Hearing the screams of the dying are a wonderful catharsis."
Lance stops sipping his cappuccino, staring at JC. "Moving on," he says hastily. "We rented a house down in the foothills of Mount Doom, on Mount Minor Chafing. It's a lovely Victorian in a really nice neighborhood."
"Good school system," Joey adds from the floor.
"Don't your neighbors worry about having evil supervillans in the neighborhood?"
"Nah, it's actually kind of a relief. As long as we're there, the minor riff-raff stay away. And since the hero won't ever attack our house, it's cool," Chris says, coming back to the group, smoothing his hair down.
"Feel better, bro?" Justin asked.
"Much."
"Does he always talk like that?" the interviewer asked irritably. "Like Ebonics on speed?"
Justin blinked. "Not always, just in interviews. I find that if I speak poorly, then people dismiss me as just another white boy who's trying to fit into the hip hop scene, thereby having one of two effects. Either they think I'm too stupid to be a threat, or they feel that if I'm emulating the "street thug" lifestyle, consider me more dangerous. Either way, it suits my purpose. It's quite gratifying to take one's opponent by surprise, don't you think?"
"Uh. Yeah."
"Dammit, Justin, did you have to tell him that?" Lance mutters.
"Now, we're going to have to adjust his memory!" Chris agrees.
"You know I hate that song," Lance reminds him.
"Sorry. Shall we?"
"Yeah, go for it," Lance mutters.
"There's a thousand words that I can say," Justin sings, clear and high.
The interviewer stares, terrified as the others join in.
"Been sitting here, trying to get you off my mind, trying my best to be a man and be strong."
His eyes begin to glaze over slowly.
"The truth remains, you're Go-"
"Dammit, Lance, can't you sing the fucking word? It's one syllable. Gone. The truth remains, you're gone. Sing it!"
"Fuck you. I'll sing what I goddamned well want, or I'll have our bank account moved to a nice numbered Swiss account so fast your little bling-bling head will spin."
The interviewer stirs, blinking. "What happened?"
"You fell asleep," Joey says quickly. "Sorry if we bored you."
"Yo," Justin mutters resentfully.
"Oh, sorry about that."
"No problem. Lance pulls a cord, and a soft female voice rings through the corridor. "Paging Igor. Igor to the Fairly Good hall, please."
"Igor will show you to your room," Chris says gently. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we're taking you to Mount Doom for a visit to the amusement complex."
"You haven't lived until you've ridden the Transylvanian Blood Mobile!" Joey says enthusiastically.
"Oh. Good," the interviewer murmurs. "In the meantime, is there a gift shop? I feel the urge to buy exorbitant amounts of *NSync Officially Licensed Merchandise."
"First floor," JC says.
"Ah, Igor," Lance stands up as a blonde enters the room.
"You're Nick Carter!" the interviewer blurts. "What are you doing here?"
"Hey, after my solo album tanked, what else was I going to do? Besides, they offer health insurance, a 401k, and dental!"
"Ahem. Igor. Take--what's your name, anyway?" Lance asks.
"Uh. Daniel."
"Daniel to his room," Lance finishes, flinching. After they've left the room, he rolls his eyes. "Daniel? Shit. Our interviewer is Daniel? Anne Rice is gonna be pissed."
"Oh, fuck her. She can't even keep the fanfic writers in check."
"Look, now that he's gone, can we get back down to business?" Justin asks.
"Not a problem," Chris says. "Lance, how is the You-Know-What© coming in its development?"
"Pretty well. We just need to get a power supply, and we think we're good to go. The prototype worked, but it's also twenty times smaller."
"What would happen if we plugged it into an outlet?" JC asked.
"We'd blow the power for a 20 mile radius. Which, granted, is pretty evil, but kind of pointless," Lance says dryly. "We need something bigger."
"Hydropower?" JC suggests.
"Nuclear?" Chris offers.
"Not enough. We need antimatter." Lance rubs his temples.
"Shit," Joey curses. "Where are we supposed to get that?"
"Surely you're not suggesting that we should-" Justin begins.
"Break into SkyNet Technologies? Yes. And don't call me Shirley."
"SkyNet?" Chris repeats. "As in 'I'll be back,' SkyNet?"
Joey squints at the sky. "She's just trying to piss everyone off, isn't she?"
"Er, anyway, they have an antimatter generator, and containment device. We'll have to go and fetch it."
"Can't we send Igor?" Justin whines.
"No!" Joey says quickly. "He's got the brains of a fence post. Do I need to remind you of the backstreetboys dot www dot com fiasco?"
"Computer? Where is Igor?"
"Igor is currently in the east tower," it answers pleasantly. "He appears to be circling the perimeter."
"Visual display," Lance orders.
A holographic representation of the corridors in the east tower pop up, complete with two little red heat sources. They watch as the red dots walk two complete circles around the tower.
"Computer, broadcast my voice in the east tower," Chris snaps. "Nick, fucking turn left already! You're going in circles! End transmission."
The red dots stop, then turn left at the next intersection.
"You want to send that?" Lance asks. "If we're lucky, he'll bring us back a toy from McDonalds. No, we'll have to go ourselves. Tomorrow, after we visit Mount Doom."
(TBC)
