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View Full Version : OT-"Psycho Goes to Hell" A Short Story



frior-one
01-13-2008, 08:21 AM
A short story based around the SEOW campaign currently being fought over at the DangerDogz (www.dangerdogz.com)
Written By Doubletap and Friar

It is week 4 of our S.E.O.W Italy campaign. Psycho, one of the more "unorthodox" DD pilots has just made an emergency landing on the Northern airfield on the island to the west of the mainland. He was forced to land having suffered engine damage to his Bf-109 whilst taking on what seemed to be half the patrolling Allied forces. Most pilots, having landed would have taxied their aircraft away to somewhere a little more conspicuous, not Psycho, there he sat in the middle of the runway, armed with only his trusted Lugar, as if to say to the Allies, "Here I am, come and get me if you dare". Unfortunately for him, one of them did, Tonar in a B25, now read on.........


"I shouldn't be here!" yelled Psycho, sitting on what was, even for the 15th plane of Hell, a really uncomfortable chair.

"Ahuh", said the demon, Garlaazt, without looking up, carefully filling out forms on his obsidian desk. It was his 7th set, as the flames shooting out from the walls of the office at random intervals and angles kept igniting them when he was nearly done.

"It was friggin' cheesy, for one-"

"Ahuh."

"******* vulching *******s shot me on the runway-"

"Yep," said Garlaazt, still not looking up, intent on his task.

"SECOND," yelled Psycho, cupping his mouth with his hands, "IT WAS IN A FLIGHT SIM! I"M NOT REALLY DEAD!"

Garlaazt finally looked up, the almond shaped irises in his yellow eyes narrowing.

"Are we on this again?"

"Uh, YEAH! It seems like a pertinent point, considering I'm in HELL!"

"I told you; we call it the Dark Underworld now. Marketing reasons."

"Right. ˜Dark Underworld'. You mentioned that. Seems to me that a place continually wreathed in fire-"

Another huge flash of flame burst from the wall to Psycho's right, and bathed the demon's desk in orange and red curls.

"JEEZ-"

"HEY!", yipped Garlaazt, dropping his pen and putting his hands to his ears, which were remarkably jackal-like, even for a demon. "You want to remember where you are, dammit! That name tends to cause some of us to spontaneously combust."

"Oh, right, Sorry," interjected Psycho, throwing up his hands, then reaching into his pocket. "Far be it for me to cause YOU any discomfort...in HELL!"

Psycho pulled out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, putting one in his mouth.

"Uhhh, we don't allow smoking here."

The demon pointed to a familiar sign with a cartoon cig plastered with a red-slashed circle.

"What?!? Is this some sort of ironic punishment; deny the smoker his fix?"

"No!" answered Garlaazt, somewhat defensively. "Health reasons."

Psycho stared at the demon, dumfounded, Marlboro dangling from his lips, then looked out the office window at the infernal landscape, burning in all directions, a sulfur and smoke haze hanging over everything.

"You have GOT to be joking with me?"

Garlaazt's eyes narrowed further in annoyance, and he seemed about to say something when several whisps of ash floated up in front of his face. Looking down, he spied what remained of his 7th set of forms.

"Oh, Jesus Chr-"

Garlaazt blew up at his desk, covering it, and Psycho, with entrails that would gag a dead goat.


~~~ * ~~~

"I'm sorry about all that business with Garlaazt, Mr. Schilling, but he was not one of our brightest. You know how those Demons are; try to fire one and its ˜discrimination this' and ˜violating my rights' that!" said Xarnazt, a devil wearing a finely crafted suit of red silk, from which stuck out horns at various locations. "You, uh, sure you don't want to wash up?"

Xamazt pointed to Psycho's flight suit, which was covered in demonic giblets and soot.

"Wash up?" said Psycho, flicking a piece of Garlaazt off his leg, "In the lake of fire outside? I'll pass."

"Well, I'm almost done with these forms-"

A flame shot out of the ceiling and blow-torched the desk before suddenly evaporating. Xamazt picked up the papers, apparently unscathed.

"Asbestos fiber," he said, waving the sheets and smiling like he'd done a particularly brilliant magic trick. His smile faded when Psycho merely looked at him and took a puff from the cigarette he had lit off of Garlaazt's smouldering remains.

"Uhm, so I understand that there is some issue with your status?"

"Yeah, you could say that. I don't belong here."

"Oh, Mr. Schilling, we get that ALL the time. Believe me, our record shows you DO belong here."

Xamazt typed a few keystrokes into the computer on his desk, and began reading.

"It says here you have killed hundreds of people, flying for the Luftwaffe, uh, and that would be the Third Reich's Luftwaffe, Mr. Schilling. Multiple incidents of shooting people in their chutes, drowning hundreds at sea, and to top it all off, you REALLY enjoyed it! It says further that you have murdered numerous close friends, and mocked their deaths while doing so. Sounds like you are eternal damnation material to me! I say welcome aboard and let me show you to your suite!"

The devil face beamed with open admiration and genuine comraderie, but Psycho felt he resembled a guy who once tried to sell him land out in Reno Nevada.

"Are you completely out of your toshing mind?"

Xamazt's smiled dropped, his red tinged face betraying absolute befuddlement.

"I don't understand-"

"IT WAS A FLIGHT SIMULATION. Does NO ONE GET that here, numbnuts? I was flying in a ******* PC flight sim when ALL that happened, well okay, most of it, but I was most definitely in the sim when I ˜died', which is not really DYING, thus the whole friggin' SIM concept, IE, SIMULATING something from reality, as opposed to actual reality."

"But-but, our records-," Xamazt spun the computer screen around to face Psycho. On the screen were a number of open Word documents listing a bunch of information all laid out in a chronological format.

"Those are event logs from IL2, Einstein. You know, the flight sim I was talking about. Where the HELL did you get these?"

~~~ * ~~~

"You did what?" asked BG, over TS. Another SEOW session was about to begin, and he seemed anxious to get on with it.

"Uhmm, I think I may have gotten Psycho condemned to Hell for all eternity," said Doubletap.

"Oh, M8, he's duhn that to himself," said Delta "He'll be the one who'll have to answer for being such 5 finger shuffleuh in life when he dies, eh?"

"Uh, yeah, that's just it. I think I got him sent there, like NOW!"

Doubletap thought his TS crapped out, there being such a long silence following.

"You, uh, feeling okay, lad?" asked BG.

Several of the other Dogz laughed, which over TS sounded like "HA-he-HA-heh-Ho-HA-snort".

"No, I'm serious, guys. I got this email from a "Beezub at aol.com" asking for a copy of the event log after Mission 5. I thought it was another one of the 567 new recruits BG has signed up this month and I forgot about, so without thinking I just sent it out."

"And?" asked Bbloke, obviously waiting for a punchline.

"Well, I get back a response saying; ˜Excellent! Thank you for your infomation. We have taken appropriate steps based on the demise of contractee Psycho. You may exchange his soul for another of your choice at a future date'. I thought it was a weird joke from some whacko we'd let into the group."

"Psycho was some whacko we let into group," said Enforcer.

"ENFORCER! You're supposed to be in the Blue Room!" shouted BG.

"I can't get into the server again! I think I deleted half my IL2 files. Is that a problem?"

"HEY, GUYS!" interrupted Doubletap, "I'm serious about this."

"And based on that email," asked Bbloke, "You think Psycho's been dragged down to the Abyss to suffer eternal torment?"

"Well, not until I saw this..."

A hyper-link popped up in the message window of TS.

"It's an article from Newsday about some guy who appeared to spontaneously combust while on stage during Kareoke night at a Long Island club last night."

"C'mon-" said Tonar.

"Look at the 3rd paragraph, guys. They don't have a positive ID on who it was, but they found one vehicle in the parking lot which no one claimed. It was Psycho's truck."

"Holy-" someone whispered over TS.

"So what you are saying, " Jensenpark began.

"What the hell are YOU doing in the Red Room?" demanded BG.

"Oh, me? I was eavesdropping. Anyway, what you are saying is that Psycho has been sent to the bowels of Hell to pay for his crimes in life, and will be suffering unbelievably cruel and painful torments fashioned out of mankind's worst and darkest fears."

"Yes," said Doubletap, relieved someone apparently believed him, "I'm afraid so."

There was a moment of silence.

"I'm, uh, not really seeing the problem here..." said Jensenpark.

~~~ * ~~~

It was a bright sunny winters morning, the dew picked out the intricate work on spiders webs which hung over the bushes, there was a crisp sharp feel to the air. Inside the Chapel Friar sat at his desk doing a bit of Priory paperwork, he was completing this months expenses claim form;

36 Bottles Priory Special Reserve Port – Ceremonial events.
15 Lunches at "The Downed Pilot" – Local Community interaction.
48 Massages - Staff training

He put his pen down with a feeling of satisfaction when suddenly there was a strange ringing sound.

He had not heard it before and was most confused as to where it was coming from. He checked his cell phone, it was not that (he changed the ring tone to the theme tune from the "Battle Of Britain" only the other day), it was not the house phone, the sound seemed to be coming from the front room.

He followed the sound in to the room, yes; it was defiantly coming from a corner of the room, "How strange" he thought to himself. He narrowed it down to coming from behind an oak panel which was located just below the book case. He tapped and prodded around the edges, some sounded solid, some hollow, when all of a sudden the panel flipped open.

There inside, sitting on a shelf was a red phone. A red phone not dissimilar to that of the phone featured in the 1960's tv series of "Batman".
The centre of the dial had an embellished letter "P" on it.
Cautiously Friar reached in and lifted the receiver.

"Hello" he said with an inquisitive hesitation.

"Ah Friar" a deep voice boomed back at him.

"Yes, who is speaking please" he replied.

"It is not important who I am, It is important however that you listen to what I have to tell you". Friar picked up the phone and took a couple of steps back and sat down in the corner armchair and began to listen.

"There has been a grave injustice perpetrated and I need you to sort it out. One of your flock has been taken from us. You are to go and retrieve the lost sheep and bring him back into the fold."

"Through the cunning intervention of The One That Shall Be Nameless our brave friend Psycho has been abducted into the Underworld, and we believe that Doubletap was partly responsible." Suddenly a cold shiver went down Friars neck.
The name of Doubletap still haunted him.

"We have long suspected that Doubletap has been in league with He That Shall Not Be Named, and has been waiting for the right moment to dispatch his Nemesis into the Abyss of Eternal Torment. Recent events in the K9 Community SEOW event have given him such an opportunity.

"He sent word to Garlaazt that Psycho had "died", neatly forgetting to add the fact that it was only in the game simulation."

Friar knew the name of Garlaazt, he had encountered him once before and had some un finished business with him.

"You are to go to the portal immediately which is located in the third cubicle from the left in the gents toilets at The Downed Pilot".
"Ahh" Friar thought to himself, he had always wondered way the door was always locked, he thought it was just a plumbing issue.

"Once there press the Handle of Zork (located on the side of the cistern) and you will be transported down to the Underworld. You are then to bring Psycho home."

"Do not fail me Friar" where the last word Friar heard as the line went dead.

He sat motionless for a moment to collect his thoughts, he was brought back as the old clock in the hall struck the half hour with a dull, doom laden thud.

He placed the phone back behind the panel and closed the door. He went out into the hall and instinctively picked up his phone and car keys, put them in his pocket and headed off toward the Downed Pilot.

As he hurried along he passed "Bollocks" the local airfield mechanic (for the benefit of the new guys here, he is so named because many of the K9 squadron pilots upon exiting their airframe back at the airport cry "Bollocks" when they see what they have done to it, he then pops up and fixes it for them) on his way to work "Morning Friar" he called, Friar hardly noticed him and just about managed a wave.

He entered the "Downed Pilot", had a quick look round, Brenda was behind the bar wearing her usual ensemble of tight low-cut blouse, short skirt and high heels. "Come in for your usual Friar, and a drink?" she enquired with a little sparkle in her eye.

"No, No, I just need.." and pointed to the toilets

"Oh, you didn't have a dodgy curry last night did you?"

Friar just gave a half smile and went through.

He stood motionless outside the third cubicle from the left. He took a deep breath and opened the door, went in and closed the door behind him.
It looked like a normal toilet; the graffiti was unusually neat and seemed to have a theme on how good the Red forces were. The handle on the side of the cistern then caught his eye.
He stared at it, transfixed. He reached out his hand, and then paused. He went to retract it, but then knew that Psycho needed him.

He reached out with a new resolve and flushed.

Suddenly a bright light was emitted from the bowl, it was so bright as to nearly blind him, the cubicle then seemed to start spinning, a dark choking smoke engulfed Friar as he desperately searched for a point of reference to fix his eyes on.

Then everything went black.

The next thing Friar saw was Psycho standing in front of him and a strange creature off to one side beside a computer screen.

Psycho felt the presence of Friar behind him and turned round "Ah thank Christ (a little off in the distance a weak scream was heard) you're here".

"Don't worry my friend; I have come to return you to your proper place"

Friar then turned to the creature, "Where is Garlaazt?" he enquired,

"Mostly over my overalls" Psycho chipped in.

"Shame that, I have some unfinished business with him"

"Ah, the famous Friar" Xamazt snarled, "Yes, Garlaazt once told me about you and I have longed wish to meet you to see if what I was told was true".
"The stuff about me and Mrs Thatcher was total ****, however the other story is true"

Xamazt stroked his goat like beard in contemplation, before he could say anything Friar started to speak

"Yes, the other story, the one I had not finished telling Garlaazt. You see it was like this, there was I flying along minding my own business in this Fw190" he turned to Psycho so as to engage him in the story as well. .."when out in front of me I spot this bogie, he has seen me and starts to make this low pass below me"

Friar now has his hands up to illustrate the positions of the planes. "..Well, he is quite a bit ahead of me, so I think, what the hell (another scream is heard in the distance) I bank over to the left, nose down. I had lost sight of him at this point but still let go a short burst........"

"...and THAT was how I managed to shoot Doubletap down. Right out of the sky he fell; BOOM!"

The Friar finished his tale, his face beaming as he looked out of the office window, wistful and serene. It made for quite an odd contrast considering the hideous torments taking place just outside.

"Uhmmm," the devil called Xamazt began, "That's uh, great, but-"

"What the HELL does that have to do with me, Friar?!" Psycho exclaimed.

"Hmm?" Friar absently tore his eyes away from the window, and fixed them back on the two other beings in the room. "What?!?"

"HELLO?! Earth to Friar!" shouted Psycho, jumping out of his chair and waving his hands in front of the clergyman's face. "Remember me? Squadmate stuck in the bowels of hell?"

"Actually, we'd be more like the colon," said Xamazt, not very helpfully.

Both Psycho and Friar chose to ignore him.

"Oh, I remember quite clearly, old friend," said the Friar, "I just was trying to convey a message through the concept of metaphor, as in a parable."

The Friar folded his arms, draping the long sleeves of his fur-lined robes (he resembled something between a Vicar and a high class pimp).

"It was meant to illustrate how even against long odds, one can accomplish what seems to be the impossible."

"Oh," said Psycho, taken aback. "I get it."

"Plus, I REALLY like telling that story. I mean," out came the hands from the sleeves as Friar again began illustrating, "You should have seen how I slipped behind him and-"

"Oh, Christ, not-," began Xamazt, before bursting into blue and orange flames. Within seconds he was a smoldering pile of ashes.

It took Friar a few seconds to notice Xamazt was not there before he stopped talking.

"Where'd he go?"

"Who the FRICK cares?"

"But, I hadn't finished!"

"C'mon!" yelled Psycho, grabbing Friar by his fur-lined collar and pulling him toward the door. "Let's get the hell of out Hell!"

There was an ominous whoosh sound, and then a crack like a great stone splitting in half, followed by the smell of brimstone and discount aftershave.

"It won't be that easy, my friends," came a deep grumbling voice from behind them, followed by a hideous cruel laugh.

~~~ * ~~~

"Ugh-Urk!" said Doubletap over TS, just as his P-47 was touching down at Trapani. Several M8's watching on the ground saw his fairly steady landing disintegrate into a gear snapping, prop bending belly-flop.

"Son of a *****!" groaned DT.

"DT, what happened?" asked Greenstreaks, "You were looking good."

"I don't know. It's-It's like I felt a disturbance-"

"Like a billion souls crying out at once, and then suddenly silenced?" quipped Painless.

"Uh, no. Like Friar was telling the ******* story about shooting me down again. TWICE!"

"Oh, he does get off on that, does he not?" said Mobius One, himself coming down for a perfect three pointer in a B-25.

"No kidding," said DT, looking over his banged up plane from the cockpit. "I'm surprised he doesn't have it tattoed on his ***!"

Painless could be heard to cough over headsets.

"What?" asked DT, followed by an awkward pause. "Don't tell me he-"

"Its just a small one," said Painless. "He emailed me a picture a couple of months ago, and its not on his bum, but over his right nipple. It says, 'DT RIP' and the date."

"Are you kiddin-"

"Oh, and it has a little plane in flames, trailing smoke past his naval."

Another awkward pause.

"It's, uh, very tasteful," said Painless, trying to be nonchalant. "You know, considering how creepy it is."

"Ok," said DT, his tone very serious, "NO ONE is to ever mention this to me again...EVER!"


~~~ * ~~~


In the Blue TS room, Rattler himself was just touching down.

"Christ, we did not get completely clobbered this turn, but we certainly could have used Psycho. And where the hell is Friar?"

"Oh," said Jensenpark, bobbing in the ocean on a raft somewhere in the middle of a digital ocean. "We think Psycho got sucked down into one of the levels of hell for eternal damnation due to Doubletap's error (calling Dr. Freud!) and an administrative mix-up in Hell.
Did I, uh, somehow forget to mention that to you guys? "

~~~ * ~~~

Friar stood defiantly with his arms folded across his chest, staring down the Dark Lord of Lies, Beelzubub. Psycho stood behind him, lighting another cigarette, muttering to himself, "Great! Just friggin' great!"

"You may not have this one, Oh Dark One!"

"Well," said Beelzubub, his voice oozing with soft menace, "If it is not my old friend, The Friar!"

Psycho stopped in mid-drag, looking between the two adversaries.

"You two know each other?"

"You could say that," said the Devil with a capital 'D', walking over to Xamazt's desk, and brushing his ashes off before sitting down. "The Friar here managed to weasel his way out of a deal for his soul last year."

"There was no weaseling, Evil One," said Friar, "You were wrong. I shot down Doubletap all by myself. He was going this way-"

"I swear by all that is holy and unholy," said the Devil, his eyes glowing red, "If you tell that story one more time I am going to throw you in a pool of magma, contract or no contract."

"I'll help," said Psycho.

Friar sized up the situation, coughed, and changed the subject.

"In any event, I am taking this one back!"

"Oh, I don't think so," replied Beelzubub, snapping his fingers causing a burst of sparks and flame which transformed into a large curled document. "I have Psycho's contract right here, in triplicate, which states his soul is mine in exchange for his diabolical flying ability."

Friar took the document from the Devil and perused it from top to bottom. He then glanced at Psycho as he turned the paper toward him.

"That your signature, M8?"

"Uhmm," said Psycho, looking it over in a cursory fashion, "Yep, that would be me."

"Oh, Psycho, how could you?" asked Friar.

"I had to, Padre, I HAD to. You don't understand. I had to be able to beat Doubletap, I just HAD to. We've been beating the **** out of each other since we were kids! He broke my leg once, ******* it! Snapped like a twig. We've always been rivals. I've had to beat him in everything we've played, whether its Doom or X-wing Vs. Tie Fighter, and that ******* refuses to give in. Just when you think you've got him, he comes back and kicks your ***."

"Then, THEN, he comes to me and says, 'Hey, Jim, found a new thing for ya'! Its really wild; its a World War II flight sim called IL2. Why don't you try it?' You know, just like some crack dealer, he hands me the CD's and says, 'Hey, try it for free?' "

"*******! And once he gets me hooked, he says, 'Hey, let's dogfight!' And I say sure!"

Tears were welling up in Psycho's eyes.

"And then he proceeds to kick my ***...IN A BUFFALO! A BUFFALO, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!"

A demon passing by in the hallway blew up, splattering the office door with demonic guts and tripe.

Psycho lit another cigarette with shaking hands, and drew a long puff, then let the smoke out in a shudder.

"I couldn't take it, Friar. Last time we played X-Wing versus Tie Fighter, he kicked my *** in a Y-wing, no matter what I flew. I can't even admit THAT ever happened when he brings it up, and now I am getting my *** handed to me by a barrel shaped Piper Cub with machine guns. I was willing to do anything, ANYTHING, to beat him."

Psycho dropped to his knees and looked up at the Friar.

"Friar, can I ever be forgiven?!?"

"Uh, sure, no problem, M8!" Friar did a rather hasty sign of, well something, and muttered something that sounded Latin but more resembled gibberish.

"We can forgive most anything at the Priory...Ugh, alright, get off me," pushing the wailing Psycho off him, "You'll matt my fur with your tears."

"Well," said the Devil, "That's all well and good, but forgiveness from a deviant in a frock does not get you off the hook with me, Psycho."

"Jesus-" Another wet explosion out in the hallway as Psycho stood up, recovering awfully quick from his emotional outburst, "You really are a ****!
'

"Kind of goes with the job, sport," replied the Devil, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head.

Friar turned to the face the Devil "So how are going to sort this one out old chap?"

The Devil beckoned Friar to sit down in front of his desk. Friar pulled out the chair and sat down. They then both leaned forward into each other and started to whisper pausing only to throw in the occasional glance over at Psycho, who was standing a few feet back from the negotiating table and, despite his best efforts, could not hear what was being said.

"Friggin' great, that's just friggin' great, Jesus Christ!" Another wet, gut exploding scream was heard outside.

"You two just have a nice little chat why don't ya, oh no, don't worry about me, I'll just stand here... in HELL!"

Friar and The Devil stopped what they were saying, raised their heads in Psycho's direction, paused and then went back into a deep conversation as if nothing of significance had happened.

After what seemed to be an age to Psycho, the pair stood up from the table and shook hands.
Friar made his way over to Psycho to explain the deal he had done.

"Well, what happened" Psycho inquired nervously.

"He has agreed to let you go, on condition I take him on in a dog fight."

"No way!" Psycho exclaimed. "Boy am I screwed"

"Gee, thanks Psycho" Friar replied, feeling rather hurt.

"Oh No, I did not mean it like that Friar, you're the best man" Psycho said shovelling as fast as he could to fill the whole in that he had just dug for himself.

"It's Ok Psycho, I think I can take him" Friar went on with a reassuring confidence to his voice.

"You THINK you can take him! It's my life in purgatory were talking about here!"

The three of them made their way into another office. The room was large. One wall was filled by a massive plasma screen. In the middle two computer screens sat back to back. In front of each sat an X52-Pro with pedals.

"You have pedals" Friar noticed. "I've not used them before" he commented calmly.

Psycho, for once was speechless.

The Devil beckoned Psycho over to a seat which was in front of the plasma screen for him to watch. Psycho sat down. At once the floor all around the chair disappeared to reveal a bottomless pit spitting fire and brimstone. Psycho's chair hung in mid air.

There was no escape.

"Don't you let me down Friar, Friar you hear me, don't you let me down now"

Friar looked over and gave a solemn nod. He removed his cloak, folded it neatly and sat down.

*****************

"Still no sign of Psycho?" asked BG, watching the Danger Dogz assemble on TS for the next SEOW mission.

"No," said Rattler, "And not a peep from Friar."

"I'm telling you, Psycho is in Hell," Doubletap piped in.

"M8, enough with that stuff. It's not funny anymore," replied BG.

"I think it's hysterical," said Jensenpark.

"It would be kind of funny, in a way, in a cosmic justice sense," came Bad Aim's voice.

"Would prove the existence of God beyond a doubt to me," chimed in Pooka.

"All right!" said BG, sounding peeved, "Enough of this. Next guy who mentions this Psycho in hell **** gets kicked. Pick your damn plane!"

"What a bunch of fruitcakes I've got myself mixed up in," said BG, reaching for some scotch.

"Uh, BG, your mic's still on," said Tonar.

"Yep, I know," replied BG, deciding he should pour himself a double.

*******************

"What plane are you going to take" Friar asked.

"Oh, I shall be flying the Buffalo" The Devil replied. "And you Friar, what piece of worthless airframe will you take?"

Friar paused and thought for a moment. "I am going to stick with what I know best, I am going to fly the Fw-190 A6."

The Devil boomed out a great big Broo-ha-ha laugh. "This will be a sweet victory!"

Friar made his selection, "I don't think this is going to be a long battle, so just 50% fuel," he thought to himself.

"Are we having default skins?" Friar enquired.

"SKINS!" Psycho exclaimed. If had not been for the fact that he could not get out of his chair, he would have surely thumped Friar at this point.

"You may if you so wish" The Devil replied calmly. "I have taken the liberty of downloading all of yours to your screen."

Friar scrolled through his list. He knew this was going to be tough, and thought a little good luck charm might come in handy, so he applied the skin with one of the Sisters from the Priory on the back.

He clicked fly and waited for the countdown. What Friar did not know was that the Devil being "The Devil" had also downloaded one of the latest hacks and had re-mapped the flight model of the Buffalo with a Me262.

The Devil had selected the Italy map and as luck would have it Friar was based at one of the northern airfields. (As at the time of writing this piece, an SEOW is currently in operation so I am not permitted to say which one.)

Friar took off and climbed as quickly as he could and made his way south. In no time at all he noticed a small dot coming towards him. "That little plane seems to be travelling awfully quickly" he thought to himself.

*************************

Painless was in a foul mood. Having had to stay overtime at the firehouse, he was going to miss today's SEOW when he had planned on being there.

"Bollucks!" he muttered. Work was work, but dammit he wanted to fly today, and there absolutely nothing going on here.

He grabbed his coat and his car keys and decided to go out and get something for lunch rather than stick around here.

"Be back in a few, Chaps," he called, practically running out the door.

**************************************************

Guitarman was on patrol with Greenstreaks in a pair of Spits near Palermo, when he caught a black dot out of the corner of his eye, way to the north.

"Greenstreaks, you see that?"

"See what?"

"Bogie at 12:30, about our height."

Greenstreaks looked to the left. "No, I don't see-Wait..." He banked the plane to the left a bit, and sure enough a black dot popped out from behind the canopy strut. "Yeah, I see it."

"Uhm, this is Guitarman, to Flight Group One. I think I see an aircraft due north of me, say L7. You have anyone there?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Uhm, no," came Bbloke's voice suddenly on the headsets. "Negative, we are all further east than that. Can't be one of us."

"Guitarman, this is BG. I heard you, M8; we don't have anyone there either."

"Right," said Guitarman, "Permission to check it out."

"Go ahead, Guitarman," said Doubletap, "Just don't get jumped."

*************************

The Devil and Friar merged and each fired off a small burst.

Both missed.

Friar remembered what he had been told by Bbloke and extended away. He then started to make a gradual turning climb to his left.

"Don't screw this up Friar" Psycho exclaimed, now slightly sweating.

**************************

"Woah," said Greenstreaks, "You see that?"

Guitarman had. Two sets of red tracers merging on one another from a pair of aircraft, one of which seemed to be going like bat out of hell.

"What IS that?"

Guitarman increased throttle to find out.

***************************

After completing the turn, Friar noticed that he was now slightly higher than the Devil, they then began to close in towards each other.

The Devil, now also aware that he had lost height advantage decided to try and make a low pass underneath his adversary.

***************************

"Uhh, Gents," said Guitarman over a broad channel, "There's something a little odd here."

"Like what!?!" asked Doubletap, rather tersely, as he had managed to miss with 3 bursts on a Bf-109 which wouldn't keep still, and was working on his fourth.

"Uhhm, I've got a 190 here-"

"Shoot it down!" yelled Doubletap, missing again.

"Well, the odd thing is, its dog-fighting a Buffalo. A very fast Buffalo..."

"We don't HAVE Buffalo-MOTHERPUSSBUCKET!" screamed DT as he missed again.

Guitarman and Greenstreaks circled the fight from below. Neither combatant seemed aware of them as Buffalo rocketed underneath the 190.

"Well, I am seeing one now, zipping along like a jet. It's painted black with red and yellow flames."

"HEY! I thought we weren't allowed to have custom skins," exclaimed Quazi. "Beebop had this awesome P-51 skin I could have used."

"We're not supposed to," replied BG. "Who's the bastich who doesn't listen or read e-mails?"

A volley of "me's" flooded Teamspeak.

"I can't see a name ID," said Guitarman when things quieted down.

"What's the pilot number?" said Greenstreaks, punching up the pilot list in IL2.

"Uhmm," Guitarman peered out his cockpit as the screaming Buffalo came whizzing within .40, showing his tail, "It's 6-6-6! Huh, it's painted on his skin as well. Nice job; looks like dripping blood..."

***************************

Painless had not been driving for more than few minutes when something caught his eye. On a corner there was a pub he couldn't recall ever seeing before, even though he'd pass this way dozens of times. It would not have been so odd had it not been for the fact that it looked pretty old; it had to have been here for ages. What had really caught his eye, however, was the name.

"The Downed Pilot," he said to himself. A honk behind him told him move on.

He went to the next roundabout and came back, parking right in front of the place. Looking up at the front entrance and window, he could see it looked like a true English pub, and not the kind that was made to look that way for tourists.

He got out, looked up at the sign, and froze.

Carved on the weathered wood placard hanging creakily above the door was an engraved image of a plane descending in flames, trailing smoke; an image that looked eerily familiar.

************************************************** ***********

Friar, reacting to the Buffalo's dive below him, pushed the nose forward of the 190 and banked his plane over to the left, (which at this point meant that his target was out of sight, and if he was going to nail him here, would have to pull off an almost unbelievable lead shot) being guided by some unseen hand, he squeezed the trigger to unleash the full might of the Fw190's machine guns and cannons....

************************************************** ************

Painless walked into the pub after hauling back mightily on the heavy oak door, and whistled. Despite his apprehensions over the sign, the place was a pilot's, sim or not, dream. The place was adorned with all sorts of memorabilia, artefacts and photographs depicting aviation, mostly from the World War eras. They were placed tastefully despite the pub being crammed with them, and they matched the old wood dιcor perfectly. Above him there was even the wing of a bloody German aircraft, Knights cross and all, which looked like it had just been blown off some unfortunate Gerry's plane.

It was a beautiful site to behold; almost as beautiful as the buxom woman behind the bar who caught his eye as he looked around.

"Well, it seems we ˜ave someone new to The Downed Pilot," said the dark haired, dark eyed woman, practically spilling out of her top as she leaned over the bar. "What would be your...pleasure, Love?"

Painless was speechless for several seconds, and then was soon sorry he wasn't.

"Uh, uhm, I'll have a shag-UH, OH, I mean a shug-sh-"

Painless thought he had offended the woman, but the twinkle in her eye told him otherwise, which made things worse.

"I'll have a, uh, a, Sh-SHANDY! Yes, a, uh, shandy. I, uhm, have to go back to work. And, uh, a menu."

The lovely barmaid pursed her lips as disappointment, and then gave Painless a wink.

"No trouble at ˜tall, Love. I'll bring you a menu, and tell you everything that's NOT on it. Why don't you have a seat?"

"I, uh, should wash up first a bit. Which way, to-"

"Right back there, Mick," she replied as she sashayed over to the end of the bar to pick up a menu and some silverware.

Painless walked back to the bathroom so quickly and in a distracted state, he never realized she had called him by name.

***************************

"Well, if you kah'nt see names on either of them, M8, shoot them both down," said Delta, as practical as ever.

Guitarman was about to reply, when the Buffalo was suddenly in front of him, zipping right to left, the FW-190 coming on down fast. Without thinking, Guitarman fired a spastic half-second burst just before the Focke-Wulfe opened up with its cannons and hit the Buffalo dead center, blowing it to smithereens.

"HOLY!" yelled Greenstreaks, who was following close behind Guitarman's Spit. "You OK?"

"Yeah, yes," said Guitarman, still startled. "The 190 got the Buffalo...Where is it?"

"The 190?" Greenstreaks looked all around his cockpit, rocking his wings back and forth, but could see no sign of the 190.

******************

All of a sudden Friar and Psycho were engulfed in the same think black acrid smoke that had brought Friar down to Hell in search of Psycho. They both lost all their senses and were completely disorientated, until after a short while, the smoke started to clear.

Friar was able to see just enough to witness the smoke receding back down into the bowl of the toilet. As the smoke cleared the pair were then blinded by the brilliant white light.

This too then stopped after a short moment.

Friar was first to regain all his senses. He could see Psycho standing just the other side of the toilet bowl. Then slowly Psycho began to return, he opened his eyes and looked around.

There was a short pause of silence as he took it all in.

He then he let out one of his usual screams, "Yeepffffft wooooooooohohohweee Yes, Yes, Yes, You did it Friar, You did it, I love you man, thank you, thank you!" and threw his arms up as if to give Friar a hug.

"Come on lets go" Friar replied, slightly embarrassed by Psycho's exuberance.

He opened the door to the cubicle, and froze. He turned to look at Psycho. Psycho turned to look at Friar. After a second or two they both turned... to look at ........Painless.

"Hello chaps.........."

Painless was truly ecstatic to see the two of his squad-mates before him, as he had not seen either since last July.

"What a bloody great surprise!" Painless exclaimed, his face beaming. It took a moment for his voluptuous-barmaid-distracted mind to catch up.

Painless looked over the two men, huddled in the toilet stall, half-embraced, both sweaty and looking worn out.

"Oh, Christ!"

Somewhere from inside the stall came the ghostlike echo of something like a short scream followed by a wet explosion.

"That wasn't me," said Psycho.

THE END...OR IS IT?

frior-one
01-13-2008, 08:21 AM
A short story based around the SEOW campaign currently being fought over at the DangerDogz (www.dangerdogz.com)
Written By Doubletap and Friar

It is week 4 of our S.E.O.W Italy campaign. Psycho, one of the more "unorthodox" DD pilots has just made an emergency landing on the Northern airfield on the island to the west of the mainland. He was forced to land having suffered engine damage to his Bf-109 whilst taking on what seemed to be half the patrolling Allied forces. Most pilots, having landed would have taxied their aircraft away to somewhere a little more conspicuous, not Psycho, there he sat in the middle of the runway, armed with only his trusted Lugar, as if to say to the Allies, "Here I am, come and get me if you dare". Unfortunately for him, one of them did, Tonar in a B25, now read on.........


"I shouldn't be here!" yelled Psycho, sitting on what was, even for the 15th plane of Hell, a really uncomfortable chair.

"Ahuh", said the demon, Garlaazt, without looking up, carefully filling out forms on his obsidian desk. It was his 7th set, as the flames shooting out from the walls of the office at random intervals and angles kept igniting them when he was nearly done.

"It was friggin' cheesy, for one-"

"Ahuh."

"******* vulching *******s shot me on the runway-"

"Yep," said Garlaazt, still not looking up, intent on his task.

"SECOND," yelled Psycho, cupping his mouth with his hands, "IT WAS IN A FLIGHT SIM! I"M NOT REALLY DEAD!"

Garlaazt finally looked up, the almond shaped irises in his yellow eyes narrowing.

"Are we on this again?"

"Uh, YEAH! It seems like a pertinent point, considering I'm in HELL!"

"I told you; we call it the Dark Underworld now. Marketing reasons."

"Right. ˜Dark Underworld'. You mentioned that. Seems to me that a place continually wreathed in fire-"

Another huge flash of flame burst from the wall to Psycho's right, and bathed the demon's desk in orange and red curls.

"JEEZ-"

"HEY!", yipped Garlaazt, dropping his pen and putting his hands to his ears, which were remarkably jackal-like, even for a demon. "You want to remember where you are, dammit! That name tends to cause some of us to spontaneously combust."

"Oh, right, Sorry," interjected Psycho, throwing up his hands, then reaching into his pocket. "Far be it for me to cause YOU any discomfort...in HELL!"

Psycho pulled out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, putting one in his mouth.

"Uhhh, we don't allow smoking here."

The demon pointed to a familiar sign with a cartoon cig plastered with a red-slashed circle.

"What?!? Is this some sort of ironic punishment; deny the smoker his fix?"

"No!" answered Garlaazt, somewhat defensively. "Health reasons."

Psycho stared at the demon, dumfounded, Marlboro dangling from his lips, then looked out the office window at the infernal landscape, burning in all directions, a sulfur and smoke haze hanging over everything.

"You have GOT to be joking with me?"

Garlaazt's eyes narrowed further in annoyance, and he seemed about to say something when several whisps of ash floated up in front of his face. Looking down, he spied what remained of his 7th set of forms.

"Oh, Jesus Chr-"

Garlaazt blew up at his desk, covering it, and Psycho, with entrails that would gag a dead goat.


~~~ * ~~~

"I'm sorry about all that business with Garlaazt, Mr. Schilling, but he was not one of our brightest. You know how those Demons are; try to fire one and its ˜discrimination this' and ˜violating my rights' that!" said Xarnazt, a devil wearing a finely crafted suit of red silk, from which stuck out horns at various locations. "You, uh, sure you don't want to wash up?"

Xamazt pointed to Psycho's flight suit, which was covered in demonic giblets and soot.

"Wash up?" said Psycho, flicking a piece of Garlaazt off his leg, "In the lake of fire outside? I'll pass."

"Well, I'm almost done with these forms-"

A flame shot out of the ceiling and blow-torched the desk before suddenly evaporating. Xamazt picked up the papers, apparently unscathed.

"Asbestos fiber," he said, waving the sheets and smiling like he'd done a particularly brilliant magic trick. His smile faded when Psycho merely looked at him and took a puff from the cigarette he had lit off of Garlaazt's smouldering remains.

"Uhm, so I understand that there is some issue with your status?"

"Yeah, you could say that. I don't belong here."

"Oh, Mr. Schilling, we get that ALL the time. Believe me, our record shows you DO belong here."

Xamazt typed a few keystrokes into the computer on his desk, and began reading.

"It says here you have killed hundreds of people, flying for the Luftwaffe, uh, and that would be the Third Reich's Luftwaffe, Mr. Schilling. Multiple incidents of shooting people in their chutes, drowning hundreds at sea, and to top it all off, you REALLY enjoyed it! It says further that you have murdered numerous close friends, and mocked their deaths while doing so. Sounds like you are eternal damnation material to me! I say welcome aboard and let me show you to your suite!"

The devil face beamed with open admiration and genuine comraderie, but Psycho felt he resembled a guy who once tried to sell him land out in Reno Nevada.

"Are you completely out of your toshing mind?"

Xamazt's smiled dropped, his red tinged face betraying absolute befuddlement.

"I don't understand-"

"IT WAS A FLIGHT SIMULATION. Does NO ONE GET that here, numbnuts? I was flying in a ******* PC flight sim when ALL that happened, well okay, most of it, but I was most definitely in the sim when I ˜died', which is not really DYING, thus the whole friggin' SIM concept, IE, SIMULATING something from reality, as opposed to actual reality."

"But-but, our records-," Xamazt spun the computer screen around to face Psycho. On the screen were a number of open Word documents listing a bunch of information all laid out in a chronological format.

"Those are event logs from IL2, Einstein. You know, the flight sim I was talking about. Where the HELL did you get these?"

~~~ * ~~~

"You did what?" asked BG, over TS. Another SEOW session was about to begin, and he seemed anxious to get on with it.

"Uhmm, I think I may have gotten Psycho condemned to Hell for all eternity," said Doubletap.

"Oh, M8, he's duhn that to himself," said Delta "He'll be the one who'll have to answer for being such 5 finger shuffleuh in life when he dies, eh?"

"Uh, yeah, that's just it. I think I got him sent there, like NOW!"

Doubletap thought his TS crapped out, there being such a long silence following.

"You, uh, feeling okay, lad?" asked BG.

Several of the other Dogz laughed, which over TS sounded like "HA-he-HA-heh-Ho-HA-snort".

"No, I'm serious, guys. I got this email from a "Beezub at aol.com" asking for a copy of the event log after Mission 5. I thought it was another one of the 567 new recruits BG has signed up this month and I forgot about, so without thinking I just sent it out."

"And?" asked Bbloke, obviously waiting for a punchline.

"Well, I get back a response saying; ˜Excellent! Thank you for your infomation. We have taken appropriate steps based on the demise of contractee Psycho. You may exchange his soul for another of your choice at a future date'. I thought it was a weird joke from some whacko we'd let into the group."

"Psycho was some whacko we let into group," said Enforcer.

"ENFORCER! You're supposed to be in the Blue Room!" shouted BG.

"I can't get into the server again! I think I deleted half my IL2 files. Is that a problem?"

"HEY, GUYS!" interrupted Doubletap, "I'm serious about this."

"And based on that email," asked Bbloke, "You think Psycho's been dragged down to the Abyss to suffer eternal torment?"

"Well, not until I saw this..."

A hyper-link popped up in the message window of TS.

"It's an article from Newsday about some guy who appeared to spontaneously combust while on stage during Kareoke night at a Long Island club last night."

"C'mon-" said Tonar.

"Look at the 3rd paragraph, guys. They don't have a positive ID on who it was, but they found one vehicle in the parking lot which no one claimed. It was Psycho's truck."

"Holy-" someone whispered over TS.

"So what you are saying, " Jensenpark began.

"What the hell are YOU doing in the Red Room?" demanded BG.

"Oh, me? I was eavesdropping. Anyway, what you are saying is that Psycho has been sent to the bowels of Hell to pay for his crimes in life, and will be suffering unbelievably cruel and painful torments fashioned out of mankind's worst and darkest fears."

"Yes," said Doubletap, relieved someone apparently believed him, "I'm afraid so."

There was a moment of silence.

"I'm, uh, not really seeing the problem here..." said Jensenpark.

~~~ * ~~~

It was a bright sunny winters morning, the dew picked out the intricate work on spiders webs which hung over the bushes, there was a crisp sharp feel to the air. Inside the Chapel Friar sat at his desk doing a bit of Priory paperwork, he was completing this months expenses claim form;

36 Bottles Priory Special Reserve Port – Ceremonial events.
15 Lunches at "The Downed Pilot" – Local Community interaction.
48 Massages - Staff training

He put his pen down with a feeling of satisfaction when suddenly there was a strange ringing sound.

He had not heard it before and was most confused as to where it was coming from. He checked his cell phone, it was not that (he changed the ring tone to the theme tune from the "Battle Of Britain" only the other day), it was not the house phone, the sound seemed to be coming from the front room.

He followed the sound in to the room, yes; it was defiantly coming from a corner of the room, "How strange" he thought to himself. He narrowed it down to coming from behind an oak panel which was located just below the book case. He tapped and prodded around the edges, some sounded solid, some hollow, when all of a sudden the panel flipped open.

There inside, sitting on a shelf was a red phone. A red phone not dissimilar to that of the phone featured in the 1960's tv series of "Batman".
The centre of the dial had an embellished letter "P" on it.
Cautiously Friar reached in and lifted the receiver.

"Hello" he said with an inquisitive hesitation.

"Ah Friar" a deep voice boomed back at him.

"Yes, who is speaking please" he replied.

"It is not important who I am, It is important however that you listen to what I have to tell you". Friar picked up the phone and took a couple of steps back and sat down in the corner armchair and began to listen.

"There has been a grave injustice perpetrated and I need you to sort it out. One of your flock has been taken from us. You are to go and retrieve the lost sheep and bring him back into the fold."

"Through the cunning intervention of The One That Shall Be Nameless our brave friend Psycho has been abducted into the Underworld, and we believe that Doubletap was partly responsible." Suddenly a cold shiver went down Friars neck.
The name of Doubletap still haunted him.

"We have long suspected that Doubletap has been in league with He That Shall Not Be Named, and has been waiting for the right moment to dispatch his Nemesis into the Abyss of Eternal Torment. Recent events in the K9 Community SEOW event have given him such an opportunity.

"He sent word to Garlaazt that Psycho had "died", neatly forgetting to add the fact that it was only in the game simulation."

Friar knew the name of Garlaazt, he had encountered him once before and had some un finished business with him.

"You are to go to the portal immediately which is located in the third cubicle from the left in the gents toilets at The Downed Pilot".
"Ahh" Friar thought to himself, he had always wondered way the door was always locked, he thought it was just a plumbing issue.

"Once there press the Handle of Zork (located on the side of the cistern) and you will be transported down to the Underworld. You are then to bring Psycho home."

"Do not fail me Friar" where the last word Friar heard as the line went dead.

He sat motionless for a moment to collect his thoughts, he was brought back as the old clock in the hall struck the half hour with a dull, doom laden thud.

He placed the phone back behind the panel and closed the door. He went out into the hall and instinctively picked up his phone and car keys, put them in his pocket and headed off toward the Downed Pilot.

As he hurried along he passed "Bollocks" the local airfield mechanic (for the benefit of the new guys here, he is so named because many of the K9 squadron pilots upon exiting their airframe back at the airport cry "Bollocks" when they see what they have done to it, he then pops up and fixes it for them) on his way to work "Morning Friar" he called, Friar hardly noticed him and just about managed a wave.

He entered the "Downed Pilot", had a quick look round, Brenda was behind the bar wearing her usual ensemble of tight low-cut blouse, short skirt and high heels. "Come in for your usual Friar, and a drink?" she enquired with a little sparkle in her eye.

"No, No, I just need.." and pointed to the toilets

"Oh, you didn't have a dodgy curry last night did you?"

Friar just gave a half smile and went through.

He stood motionless outside the third cubicle from the left. He took a deep breath and opened the door, went in and closed the door behind him.
It looked like a normal toilet; the graffiti was unusually neat and seemed to have a theme on how good the Red forces were. The handle on the side of the cistern then caught his eye.
He stared at it, transfixed. He reached out his hand, and then paused. He went to retract it, but then knew that Psycho needed him.

He reached out with a new resolve and flushed.

Suddenly a bright light was emitted from the bowl, it was so bright as to nearly blind him, the cubicle then seemed to start spinning, a dark choking smoke engulfed Friar as he desperately searched for a point of reference to fix his eyes on.

Then everything went black.

The next thing Friar saw was Psycho standing in front of him and a strange creature off to one side beside a computer screen.

Psycho felt the presence of Friar behind him and turned round "Ah thank Christ (a little off in the distance a weak scream was heard) you're here".

"Don't worry my friend; I have come to return you to your proper place"

Friar then turned to the creature, "Where is Garlaazt?" he enquired,

"Mostly over my overalls" Psycho chipped in.

"Shame that, I have some unfinished business with him"

"Ah, the famous Friar" Xamazt snarled, "Yes, Garlaazt once told me about you and I have longed wish to meet you to see if what I was told was true".
"The stuff about me and Mrs Thatcher was total ****, however the other story is true"

Xamazt stroked his goat like beard in contemplation, before he could say anything Friar started to speak

"Yes, the other story, the one I had not finished telling Garlaazt. You see it was like this, there was I flying along minding my own business in this Fw190" he turned to Psycho so as to engage him in the story as well. .."when out in front of me I spot this bogie, he has seen me and starts to make this low pass below me"

Friar now has his hands up to illustrate the positions of the planes. "..Well, he is quite a bit ahead of me, so I think, what the hell (another scream is heard in the distance) I bank over to the left, nose down. I had lost sight of him at this point but still let go a short burst........"

"...and THAT was how I managed to shoot Doubletap down. Right out of the sky he fell; BOOM!"

The Friar finished his tale, his face beaming as he looked out of the office window, wistful and serene. It made for quite an odd contrast considering the hideous torments taking place just outside.

"Uhmmm," the devil called Xamazt began, "That's uh, great, but-"

"What the HELL does that have to do with me, Friar?!" Psycho exclaimed.

"Hmm?" Friar absently tore his eyes away from the window, and fixed them back on the two other beings in the room. "What?!?"

"HELLO?! Earth to Friar!" shouted Psycho, jumping out of his chair and waving his hands in front of the clergyman's face. "Remember me? Squadmate stuck in the bowels of hell?"

"Actually, we'd be more like the colon," said Xamazt, not very helpfully.

Both Psycho and Friar chose to ignore him.

"Oh, I remember quite clearly, old friend," said the Friar, "I just was trying to convey a message through the concept of metaphor, as in a parable."

The Friar folded his arms, draping the long sleeves of his fur-lined robes (he resembled something between a Vicar and a high class pimp).

"It was meant to illustrate how even against long odds, one can accomplish what seems to be the impossible."

"Oh," said Psycho, taken aback. "I get it."

"Plus, I REALLY like telling that story. I mean," out came the hands from the sleeves as Friar again began illustrating, "You should have seen how I slipped behind him and-"

"Oh, Christ, not-," began Xamazt, before bursting into blue and orange flames. Within seconds he was a smoldering pile of ashes.

It took Friar a few seconds to notice Xamazt was not there before he stopped talking.

"Where'd he go?"

"Who the FRICK cares?"

"But, I hadn't finished!"

"C'mon!" yelled Psycho, grabbing Friar by his fur-lined collar and pulling him toward the door. "Let's get the hell of out Hell!"

There was an ominous whoosh sound, and then a crack like a great stone splitting in half, followed by the smell of brimstone and discount aftershave.

"It won't be that easy, my friends," came a deep grumbling voice from behind them, followed by a hideous cruel laugh.

~~~ * ~~~

"Ugh-Urk!" said Doubletap over TS, just as his P-47 was touching down at Trapani. Several M8's watching on the ground saw his fairly steady landing disintegrate into a gear snapping, prop bending belly-flop.

"Son of a *****!" groaned DT.

"DT, what happened?" asked Greenstreaks, "You were looking good."

"I don't know. It's-It's like I felt a disturbance-"

"Like a billion souls crying out at once, and then suddenly silenced?" quipped Painless.

"Uh, no. Like Friar was telling the ******* story about shooting me down again. TWICE!"

"Oh, he does get off on that, does he not?" said Mobius One, himself coming down for a perfect three pointer in a B-25.

"No kidding," said DT, looking over his banged up plane from the cockpit. "I'm surprised he doesn't have it tattoed on his ***!"

Painless could be heard to cough over headsets.

"What?" asked DT, followed by an awkward pause. "Don't tell me he-"

"Its just a small one," said Painless. "He emailed me a picture a couple of months ago, and its not on his bum, but over his right nipple. It says, 'DT RIP' and the date."

"Are you kiddin-"

"Oh, and it has a little plane in flames, trailing smoke past his naval."

Another awkward pause.

"It's, uh, very tasteful," said Painless, trying to be nonchalant. "You know, considering how creepy it is."

"Ok," said DT, his tone very serious, "NO ONE is to ever mention this to me again...EVER!"


~~~ * ~~~


In the Blue TS room, Rattler himself was just touching down.

"Christ, we did not get completely clobbered this turn, but we certainly could have used Psycho. And where the hell is Friar?"

"Oh," said Jensenpark, bobbing in the ocean on a raft somewhere in the middle of a digital ocean. "We think Psycho got sucked down into one of the levels of hell for eternal damnation due to Doubletap's error (calling Dr. Freud!) and an administrative mix-up in Hell.
Did I, uh, somehow forget to mention that to you guys? "

~~~ * ~~~

Friar stood defiantly with his arms folded across his chest, staring down the Dark Lord of Lies, Beelzubub. Psycho stood behind him, lighting another cigarette, muttering to himself, "Great! Just friggin' great!"

"You may not have this one, Oh Dark One!"

"Well," said Beelzubub, his voice oozing with soft menace, "If it is not my old friend, The Friar!"

Psycho stopped in mid-drag, looking between the two adversaries.

"You two know each other?"

"You could say that," said the Devil with a capital 'D', walking over to Xamazt's desk, and brushing his ashes off before sitting down. "The Friar here managed to weasel his way out of a deal for his soul last year."

"There was no weaseling, Evil One," said Friar, "You were wrong. I shot down Doubletap all by myself. He was going this way-"

"I swear by all that is holy and unholy," said the Devil, his eyes glowing red, "If you tell that story one more time I am going to throw you in a pool of magma, contract or no contract."

"I'll help," said Psycho.

Friar sized up the situation, coughed, and changed the subject.

"In any event, I am taking this one back!"

"Oh, I don't think so," replied Beelzubub, snapping his fingers causing a burst of sparks and flame which transformed into a large curled document. "I have Psycho's contract right here, in triplicate, which states his soul is mine in exchange for his diabolical flying ability."

Friar took the document from the Devil and perused it from top to bottom. He then glanced at Psycho as he turned the paper toward him.

"That your signature, M8?"

"Uhmm," said Psycho, looking it over in a cursory fashion, "Yep, that would be me."

"Oh, Psycho, how could you?" asked Friar.

"I had to, Padre, I HAD to. You don't understand. I had to be able to beat Doubletap, I just HAD to. We've been beating the **** out of each other since we were kids! He broke my leg once, ******* it! Snapped like a twig. We've always been rivals. I've had to beat him in everything we've played, whether its Doom or X-wing Vs. Tie Fighter, and that ******* refuses to give in. Just when you think you've got him, he comes back and kicks your ***."

"Then, THEN, he comes to me and says, 'Hey, Jim, found a new thing for ya'! Its really wild; its a World War II flight sim called IL2. Why don't you try it?' You know, just like some crack dealer, he hands me the CD's and says, 'Hey, try it for free?' "

"*******! And once he gets me hooked, he says, 'Hey, let's dogfight!' And I say sure!"

Tears were welling up in Psycho's eyes.

"And then he proceeds to kick my ***...IN A BUFFALO! A BUFFALO, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!"

A demon passing by in the hallway blew up, splattering the office door with demonic guts and tripe.

Psycho lit another cigarette with shaking hands, and drew a long puff, then let the smoke out in a shudder.

"I couldn't take it, Friar. Last time we played X-Wing versus Tie Fighter, he kicked my *** in a Y-wing, no matter what I flew. I can't even admit THAT ever happened when he brings it up, and now I am getting my *** handed to me by a barrel shaped Piper Cub with machine guns. I was willing to do anything, ANYTHING, to beat him."

Psycho dropped to his knees and looked up at the Friar.

"Friar, can I ever be forgiven?!?"

"Uh, sure, no problem, M8!" Friar did a rather hasty sign of, well something, and muttered something that sounded Latin but more resembled gibberish.

"We can forgive most anything at the Priory...Ugh, alright, get off me," pushing the wailing Psycho off him, "You'll matt my fur with your tears."

"Well," said the Devil, "That's all well and good, but forgiveness from a deviant in a frock does not get you off the hook with me, Psycho."

"Jesus-" Another wet explosion out in the hallway as Psycho stood up, recovering awfully quick from his emotional outburst, "You really are a ****!
'

"Kind of goes with the job, sport," replied the Devil, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head.

Friar turned to the face the Devil "So how are going to sort this one out old chap?"

The Devil beckoned Friar to sit down in front of his desk. Friar pulled out the chair and sat down. They then both leaned forward into each other and started to whisper pausing only to throw in the occasional glance over at Psycho, who was standing a few feet back from the negotiating table and, despite his best efforts, could not hear what was being said.

"Friggin' great, that's just friggin' great, Jesus Christ!" Another wet, gut exploding scream was heard outside.

"You two just have a nice little chat why don't ya, oh no, don't worry about me, I'll just stand here... in HELL!"

Friar and The Devil stopped what they were saying, raised their heads in Psycho's direction, paused and then went back into a deep conversation as if nothing of significance had happened.

After what seemed to be an age to Psycho, the pair stood up from the table and shook hands.
Friar made his way over to Psycho to explain the deal he had done.

"Well, what happened" Psycho inquired nervously.

"He has agreed to let you go, on condition I take him on in a dog fight."

"No way!" Psycho exclaimed. "Boy am I screwed"

"Gee, thanks Psycho" Friar replied, feeling rather hurt.

"Oh No, I did not mean it like that Friar, you're the best man" Psycho said shovelling as fast as he could to fill the whole in that he had just dug for himself.

"It's Ok Psycho, I think I can take him" Friar went on with a reassuring confidence to his voice.

"You THINK you can take him! It's my life in purgatory were talking about here!"

The three of them made their way into another office. The room was large. One wall was filled by a massive plasma screen. In the middle two computer screens sat back to back. In front of each sat an X52-Pro with pedals.

"You have pedals" Friar noticed. "I've not used them before" he commented calmly.

Psycho, for once was speechless.

The Devil beckoned Psycho over to a seat which was in front of the plasma screen for him to watch. Psycho sat down. At once the floor all around the chair disappeared to reveal a bottomless pit spitting fire and brimstone. Psycho's chair hung in mid air.

There was no escape.

"Don't you let me down Friar, Friar you hear me, don't you let me down now"

Friar looked over and gave a solemn nod. He removed his cloak, folded it neatly and sat down.

*****************

"Still no sign of Psycho?" asked BG, watching the Danger Dogz assemble on TS for the next SEOW mission.

"No," said Rattler, "And not a peep from Friar."

"I'm telling you, Psycho is in Hell," Doubletap piped in.

"M8, enough with that stuff. It's not funny anymore," replied BG.

"I think it's hysterical," said Jensenpark.

"It would be kind of funny, in a way, in a cosmic justice sense," came Bad Aim's voice.

"Would prove the existence of God beyond a doubt to me," chimed in Pooka.

"All right!" said BG, sounding peeved, "Enough of this. Next guy who mentions this Psycho in hell **** gets kicked. Pick your damn plane!"

"What a bunch of fruitcakes I've got myself mixed up in," said BG, reaching for some scotch.

"Uh, BG, your mic's still on," said Tonar.

"Yep, I know," replied BG, deciding he should pour himself a double.

*******************

"What plane are you going to take" Friar asked.

"Oh, I shall be flying the Buffalo" The Devil replied. "And you Friar, what piece of worthless airframe will you take?"

Friar paused and thought for a moment. "I am going to stick with what I know best, I am going to fly the Fw-190 A6."

The Devil boomed out a great big Broo-ha-ha laugh. "This will be a sweet victory!"

Friar made his selection, "I don't think this is going to be a long battle, so just 50% fuel," he thought to himself.

"Are we having default skins?" Friar enquired.

"SKINS!" Psycho exclaimed. If had not been for the fact that he could not get out of his chair, he would have surely thumped Friar at this point.

"You may if you so wish" The Devil replied calmly. "I have taken the liberty of downloading all of yours to your screen."

Friar scrolled through his list. He knew this was going to be tough, and thought a little good luck charm might come in handy, so he applied the skin with one of the Sisters from the Priory on the back.

He clicked fly and waited for the countdown. What Friar did not know was that the Devil being "The Devil" had also downloaded one of the latest hacks and had re-mapped the flight model of the Buffalo with a Me262.

The Devil had selected the Italy map and as luck would have it Friar was based at one of the northern airfields. (As at the time of writing this piece, an SEOW is currently in operation so I am not permitted to say which one.)

Friar took off and climbed as quickly as he could and made his way south. In no time at all he noticed a small dot coming towards him. "That little plane seems to be travelling awfully quickly" he thought to himself.

*************************

Painless was in a foul mood. Having had to stay overtime at the firehouse, he was going to miss today's SEOW when he had planned on being there.

"Bollucks!" he muttered. Work was work, but dammit he wanted to fly today, and there absolutely nothing going on here.

He grabbed his coat and his car keys and decided to go out and get something for lunch rather than stick around here.

"Be back in a few, Chaps," he called, practically running out the door.

**************************************************

Guitarman was on patrol with Greenstreaks in a pair of Spits near Palermo, when he caught a black dot out of the corner of his eye, way to the north.

"Greenstreaks, you see that?"

"See what?"

"Bogie at 12:30, about our height."

Greenstreaks looked to the left. "No, I don't see-Wait..." He banked the plane to the left a bit, and sure enough a black dot popped out from behind the canopy strut. "Yeah, I see it."

"Uhm, this is Guitarman, to Flight Group One. I think I see an aircraft due north of me, say L7. You have anyone there?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Uhm, no," came Bbloke's voice suddenly on the headsets. "Negative, we are all further east than that. Can't be one of us."

"Guitarman, this is BG. I heard you, M8; we don't have anyone there either."

"Right," said Guitarman, "Permission to check it out."

"Go ahead, Guitarman," said Doubletap, "Just don't get jumped."

*************************

The Devil and Friar merged and each fired off a small burst.

Both missed.

Friar remembered what he had been told by Bbloke and extended away. He then started to make a gradual turning climb to his left.

"Don't screw this up Friar" Psycho exclaimed, now slightly sweating.

**************************

"Woah," said Greenstreaks, "You see that?"

Guitarman had. Two sets of red tracers merging on one another from a pair of aircraft, one of which seemed to be going like bat out of hell.

"What IS that?"

Guitarman increased throttle to find out.

***************************

After completing the turn, Friar noticed that he was now slightly higher than the Devil, they then began to close in towards each other.

The Devil, now also aware that he had lost height advantage decided to try and make a low pass underneath his adversary.

***************************

"Uhh, Gents," said Guitarman over a broad channel, "There's something a little odd here."

"Like what!?!" asked Doubletap, rather tersely, as he had managed to miss with 3 bursts on a Bf-109 which wouldn't keep still, and was working on his fourth.

"Uhhm, I've got a 190 here-"

"Shoot it down!" yelled Doubletap, missing again.

"Well, the odd thing is, its dog-fighting a Buffalo. A very fast Buffalo..."

"We don't HAVE Buffalo-MOTHERPUSSBUCKET!" screamed DT as he missed again.

Guitarman and Greenstreaks circled the fight from below. Neither combatant seemed aware of them as Buffalo rocketed underneath the 190.

"Well, I am seeing one now, zipping along like a jet. It's painted black with red and yellow flames."

"HEY! I thought we weren't allowed to have custom skins," exclaimed Quazi. "Beebop had this awesome P-51 skin I could have used."

"We're not supposed to," replied BG. "Who's the bastich who doesn't listen or read e-mails?"

A volley of "me's" flooded Teamspeak.

"I can't see a name ID," said Guitarman when things quieted down.

"What's the pilot number?" said Greenstreaks, punching up the pilot list in IL2.

"Uhmm," Guitarman peered out his cockpit as the screaming Buffalo came whizzing within .40, showing his tail, "It's 6-6-6! Huh, it's painted on his skin as well. Nice job; looks like dripping blood..."

***************************

Painless had not been driving for more than few minutes when something caught his eye. On a corner there was a pub he couldn't recall ever seeing before, even though he'd pass this way dozens of times. It would not have been so odd had it not been for the fact that it looked pretty old; it had to have been here for ages. What had really caught his eye, however, was the name.

"The Downed Pilot," he said to himself. A honk behind him told him move on.

He went to the next roundabout and came back, parking right in front of the place. Looking up at the front entrance and window, he could see it looked like a true English pub, and not the kind that was made to look that way for tourists.

He got out, looked up at the sign, and froze.

Carved on the weathered wood placard hanging creakily above the door was an engraved image of a plane descending in flames, trailing smoke; an image that looked eerily familiar.

************************************************** ***********

Friar, reacting to the Buffalo's dive below him, pushed the nose forward of the 190 and banked his plane over to the left, (which at this point meant that his target was out of sight, and if he was going to nail him here, would have to pull off an almost unbelievable lead shot) being guided by some unseen hand, he squeezed the trigger to unleash the full might of the Fw190's machine guns and cannons....

************************************************** ************

Painless walked into the pub after hauling back mightily on the heavy oak door, and whistled. Despite his apprehensions over the sign, the place was a pilot's, sim or not, dream. The place was adorned with all sorts of memorabilia, artefacts and photographs depicting aviation, mostly from the World War eras. They were placed tastefully despite the pub being crammed with them, and they matched the old wood dιcor perfectly. Above him there was even the wing of a bloody German aircraft, Knights cross and all, which looked like it had just been blown off some unfortunate Gerry's plane.

It was a beautiful site to behold; almost as beautiful as the buxom woman behind the bar who caught his eye as he looked around.

"Well, it seems we ˜ave someone new to The Downed Pilot," said the dark haired, dark eyed woman, practically spilling out of her top as she leaned over the bar. "What would be your...pleasure, Love?"

Painless was speechless for several seconds, and then was soon sorry he wasn't.

"Uh, uhm, I'll have a shag-UH, OH, I mean a shug-sh-"

Painless thought he had offended the woman, but the twinkle in her eye told him otherwise, which made things worse.

"I'll have a, uh, a, Sh-SHANDY! Yes, a, uh, shandy. I, uhm, have to go back to work. And, uh, a menu."

The lovely barmaid pursed her lips as disappointment, and then gave Painless a wink.

"No trouble at ˜tall, Love. I'll bring you a menu, and tell you everything that's NOT on it. Why don't you have a seat?"

"I, uh, should wash up first a bit. Which way, to-"

"Right back there, Mick," she replied as she sashayed over to the end of the bar to pick up a menu and some silverware.

Painless walked back to the bathroom so quickly and in a distracted state, he never realized she had called him by name.

***************************

"Well, if you kah'nt see names on either of them, M8, shoot them both down," said Delta, as practical as ever.

Guitarman was about to reply, when the Buffalo was suddenly in front of him, zipping right to left, the FW-190 coming on down fast. Without thinking, Guitarman fired a spastic half-second burst just before the Focke-Wulfe opened up with its cannons and hit the Buffalo dead center, blowing it to smithereens.

"HOLY!" yelled Greenstreaks, who was following close behind Guitarman's Spit. "You OK?"

"Yeah, yes," said Guitarman, still startled. "The 190 got the Buffalo...Where is it?"

"The 190?" Greenstreaks looked all around his cockpit, rocking his wings back and forth, but could see no sign of the 190.

******************

All of a sudden Friar and Psycho were engulfed in the same think black acrid smoke that had brought Friar down to Hell in search of Psycho. They both lost all their senses and were completely disorientated, until after a short while, the smoke started to clear.

Friar was able to see just enough to witness the smoke receding back down into the bowl of the toilet. As the smoke cleared the pair were then blinded by the brilliant white light.

This too then stopped after a short moment.

Friar was first to regain all his senses. He could see Psycho standing just the other side of the toilet bowl. Then slowly Psycho began to return, he opened his eyes and looked around.

There was a short pause of silence as he took it all in.

He then he let out one of his usual screams, "Yeepffffft wooooooooohohohweee Yes, Yes, Yes, You did it Friar, You did it, I love you man, thank you, thank you!" and threw his arms up as if to give Friar a hug.

"Come on lets go" Friar replied, slightly embarrassed by Psycho's exuberance.

He opened the door to the cubicle, and froze. He turned to look at Psycho. Psycho turned to look at Friar. After a second or two they both turned... to look at ........Painless.

"Hello chaps.........."

Painless was truly ecstatic to see the two of his squad-mates before him, as he had not seen either since last July.

"What a bloody great surprise!" Painless exclaimed, his face beaming. It took a moment for his voluptuous-barmaid-distracted mind to catch up.

Painless looked over the two men, huddled in the toilet stall, half-embraced, both sweaty and looking worn out.

"Oh, Christ!"

Somewhere from inside the stall came the ghostlike echo of something like a short scream followed by a wet explosion.

"That wasn't me," said Psycho.

THE END...OR IS IT?

general_kalle
01-13-2008, 09:07 AM
http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/88.gif http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/clap.gif http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/11.gif http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_biggrin.gif http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/25.gif http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-very-happy.gif

extremely good. very well written.

are all the names "real" vitual pilots?

what happens to dubbletab?

frior-one
01-13-2008, 09:21 AM
they all members of our squad

BrotherVoodoo
01-13-2008, 10:21 AM
Awesome! Thanks for posting these, I enjoyed them very much.

guitarman1968
01-13-2008, 11:14 AM
Outstanding as ever Colin, you are a true literary genius.

Enforcer572005
01-13-2008, 09:17 PM
I made sure I didn't delete half my IL2 files today, so I actually survived and got one AI kill. One of the Demons came back with Psycho though.....he possessed Quazi, who took out half my flight today quicker than you can utter a deity's name.

jensenpark
01-13-2008, 09:22 PM
Well done Doubletap and Frior.

Just hilarious.

cmirko
01-14-2008, 07:18 AM
great story http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif


S!

FlatSpinMan
01-14-2008, 07:43 AM
That's really good, well-written and I love the dialogue.

Toasted_Toad
01-15-2008, 03:41 AM
Thanks Guys,
Thats one of the best things I've read here since I started hanging around here.http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif

Cheers,

TT