RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Balls Nastier: The Returnination of Balls Nasty

He had been betrayed. Left to die at the bottom of the ocean with a bunch of posers thinking they were great heroes. The lone survivor of a horrible accident in the Vanguard Atlantis base during its first and final meeting, he vowed to never rest until revenge was his. First, he went to Vegas for a weekend and spent what little money he had on the craps table, cheap booze, and even cheaper hookers. He then was a roadie for Lynyrd Skynyrd for two years, even though they hadn't really hired him or even let him backstage; but that line did get him a lot of the throwaway tail. After that he sold blood for money and took a part-time job as the cole-slaw chef at BBQ Bill's All You Can Eat Buffet in Dayton. His journey took him cross country as a carny manning the Tilt-A-Whirl. Finally, Balls Nasty is ready for retribution and is searching out those who left him and the other Van-Atlantians to die in the cold depths of the Pacific Ocean.

Vanguard Headquarters: La Perdita

The home complex of Vanguard, where it all started, still stood out above the rest of the quaint buildings of the resort island nation. It's hardy construction and high class design drew passerbys' eyes. Even the natives couldn't help but stop and admire it every once in a while. The front door flew open from the force of Balls Nasty's kick. He stomped in wearing his white wifebeater thirt with chicken grease and gravy stains. The tattered jeans were held up by a snake skin belt and large, golden belt buckle that simply read 'Balls'. His worn cowboy boots clicked on the surface of the marble floor. He raised his shotgun to rest on his upper arm as he misquoted his favorite movie line, "I'm going to kick your ass because I'm outta gum."

He leveled his gun. "Alright, you Vanguard pricks, it's payback time."

"Sir," a kind, young native woman politely waved to Balls from behind a counter.

"What is it?" Nasty sneered.

"You seem to have made a mistake," she cheerfully replied.

"What do you mean? This is the Vanguard HQ, and I'm here to kill some Vanguard bastards."

"Well, sir," she began to explain, "you do have the right place, just the wrong time." Nasty's mouth hung open as he tried to understand what she was saying. The woman continue, "You see there hasn't been a Vanguard for some years now. This once was their headquarters, but now it's a five star resort hotel. Once Vanguard International ceased operation, we were established to make use of the building and great beachfront location. Their training and laboratory areas are now our gym and health spa. We are now Vanguard Suits."

"Oh," Balls said as he lowered his shotgun. He looked around the lobby to see a room full of frightened men women and children. "A hotel, huh? So... ah... no Vanguardians here, huh?"

"No, sir."

"No one on the staff a old team member?" She shook her head no. "Pool boy? Bellhop? Gardner?" No, no, and no she shook. "Weeeelllll, this is a bit embarrassing. You know, I'm a bit tired. How much for a room for the night?"

"Rates start at $500 a night."

"Wow. Uh... they left me at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean to die. Is there any kind of discount or cut rate for that?"

"I'm sorry."

"Alright, guess I'll be going then." He walked back to the doors and stopped just before leaving. "I just want to aplogize to everyone about my behavior earlier. I was just here to kill the Vanguard people. Didn't know it was a hotel now. Sorry. Also, I said 'ass' and 'bastard' earlier... That was all in the moment stuff. I really shouldn't say that in mixed company like this. I don't remember saying them; but just in case I did, I want to apologize for the use of the words damn, hell, fuck, cunt, shit, pussy, twat, bitch, cock, and dick. Those really aren't words that your kids need to be exposed to. Sorry once again."

Balls stepped out onto the sidewalk and left. A short moment later he stuck his head back into the door and called out to the young receptionist, "Um.. excuse me. Me again. You wouldn't happen to have a forwarding address, wouldja?"

I remember when I kicked your punk ass for the DCMB World Heavyweight Title, you prick.

Jaburg remembers, he is a 2 time Hardcore Champion...

BALLS NASTY!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Balls Nastier"

Refresh my memory. Was that before or after you licked nut sweat from my jock cup?

Waves lapped up against the side of the ship as it cut it’s way across the Caribbean Sea towards the Florida coastline. Balls Nasty had bought his way onto a ship that made the ten hour journey from La Perdita to Miami once a week. Mostly for the tourists, but also for people with family in the US to visit regularly. Nasty sat on a cushioned seat with his shotgun laying across his lap. Mounted on the ceiling above him was a cube hold four TV sets. Several similar cubes hung throughout the ship to keep the passengers entertained on the long cruise. But Balls Nasty was not being entertained. He was confused.

Barley audible above the racket of a hundred simultaneous conversations and the occasional unsupervised child, a cartoon was on the TV facing him. To his surprise it was called ‘Vanguard: Defenders of Earth’. As he gaped in confusion, one of the characters was summing up the episode, “Well, we may have stopped the evil Dr. Knell’s diabolical plan to turn Thunder City into his reptilian minions with his monstrous Reptilarator Ray; but he has once again managed to slither out of our grasp and escaped to plague us another day.”

“Well, Danny,” another character said, “maybe if you’d let me go after Knell, he wouldn’t have escaped. My keen senses and sharp reflexes are second to none.” Just that moment a bucket of water falls on his head and soaks him.

“Ha, ha,” laughed a third. “Looks like you’re all wet, Dirk”

“So true, Eurostar,” Danny laughed.

“Drrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx!” Dirk yelled. A tiny, muppet-like cartoon dragon runs and hides behind Danny, peeking it’s little head out over his shoulder nervously. The rest of the group, besides Dirk, laugh as the scene fades out.

“What the fuck?” Balls Nasty runs his fingers through his tangled mane of hair. The mullet swallowed his fingers whole as it declared to the world that though the front was short and declared that there would be business as usual, there was still going to be a keg party blastin’ bitchin’ Southern Rock.

The cartoon was yet to be over. A new scene faded onto the screen. Two kids on skateboards are riding through a park without any pads or helmets. “Betcha I can jump higher than you off that ramp,” one kid challenged.

“You’re on!” the other responded. They roll towards the ramp. As they take to the air, their boards fly out from underneath them causing them to fall backwards. As they come crashing towards the ground, their falls are stopped by two sets of arms reaching out and catching them.

“Grimm! Ozzy!” the two yell.

“Hey, where’s your safety equipment?” Ozzy asks, for some reason in an Australian accent, as they put the boys down.

“We don’t need those things. We’re tough like you guys,” the first boy answers.

“We may be tough,” Grimm, whose skull face was pulled up around the sides to cause a look of a comical smile, begins lecturing, “but even we wear safety equipment when necessary.”

“That’s right, Grimm,” Ozzy agreed. “You’ll never see us take off in the Stormloader without first fastening our safety belts. We’re tough because we’re prepared.”

“Exactly. A fall like the one you guys took could cause serious injuries that the proper pads and helmets can help avoid,” Grimm handed the two boys a set of pads and helmets as he spoke. “Remember, kids, that safety is cool for everyone. Even if you’re indestructible like Ozzy here.”

“Yeah, or else you might end up looking like Grimm here,” Ozzy giggled as he pointed to his partner’s face.

“Huh?” Grimm responded. Ozzy put his hand on the man’s shoulders, and everyone began laughing again as the scene faded out to the closing credits.

“I don’t get any of this,” Balls said as the theme song closed the show with a big Vanguard: Defenders of the Earrrrrrrth! Nasty noticed a little boy walking buy with a comic book that had ‘Vanguard Adventures’ across the front. He seized it and began flipping through the pages.

“Hey!” the kid complained.

“Piss off!” Nasty replied as he found an ad in the middle of the book. There he was fighting a bunch of junkyard robots to save the Twinkies for the good kids to enjoy in their treehouse. There, on the last panel of the page, he was smiling with a half eaten Twinkie in one hand with the other giving the thumbs up. The word balloon read: Those Junkbots should have known that Balls Nasty wouldn’t allow them to steal the greatest snack in the universe.

“That’s it!” Balls Nasty shouted as he threw the comic to the floor. “They left me for dead at the bottom of the ocean. Then, they make a mockery of all I stand for with this humiliating schilling for Hostess Twinkies. Delicious sponge cakes with a cream filling. I have had enough. Revenge shall be mine.” He stood up and pumped his shotgun for dramatic effect since he really didn’t plan on using it here and the fact that there weren’t any bullets for that action to chamber. “Everyone knows that Balls Nasty is a Moon Pie man.”

@ Knowing is Half the Battle scene...

Balls Nasty walked down the streets of Miami. The art deco buildings and neon lights stretched out a far as he could see. He stopped for a moment in front of a department store window. On the other side was a display of the mattresses they had on sale. Stuck to the glass was a poster with Turkish Stringfellow hovering slightly above a mattress with a smile on his face. The caption below read: “It’s like you’re sleeping on air.”

On top of the building across the street was a billboard. Priest was pointing directly at Nasty telling him that if he’s been in a car wreck to get money now with Attorney Ricardo Ortego. A city bus drove by with yet another billboard on its side. This one had Grissom Montag proclaiming his preference for the tough, American built Ford F-150 pickup truck. All around him Balls Nasty saw ad after ad with Vanguard members’ faces selling anything and everything.

Finally, Nasty reached his destination. An office building in downtown Miami. He walked through the front doors shotgun in hand and made his way to the top floor. It was a plush office with plenty of potted plants and painting that don’t really look like paintings. They more resembled a painter’s work shirt than art. He walked past the indoor waterfall and up to the receptionist. “Balls Nasty here to kick ass,” he introduced himself.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked as she scanned her schedule.

“Uh... not really, no.”

“I’m sorry, but Vanguard Incorporated offices aren’t open to the public. You must have an appointment.”

“Ok, when can I get one?”

The receptionist flipped through her book. After several pages she stopped. “I can get you one five weeks from Monday.”

“Can’t do it then. That’s the Great Monster Truck Revenge tour in Baton Rouge.”

“Well, let’s see...... two months from Thursday.”

“Nope. That’s the Crawfish Boil/Tobacco Spitting Invitational. I’m defending my title.”

“All I have after that is two weeks before Christmas.”

“Uh-uh. Big family reunion at Thanksgiving. Probably still be incarcerated.”

“Then, I’m sorry, sir; but I just can’t help you. Anyone not associated with the company has to have an appointment.”

“What if I’m associated?”

“What was you name again, sir?” she asked as she turned to her computer.

“Nasty, Balls,” he said as he came around and looked at the screen. He pointed. “See. That’s me right there. Nasty with a ‘z’.”

“Vanguard: Atlantis. Stationed in the Pacific Ocean. If you’re Vanguard: Atlantis, shouldn’t you be in the Atlantic Ocean?”

“Don’t start that shit again.”

“Well, Mr. Nazty, you may enter. The boss is in the office all the way down the hallway,” she pointed behind her.

“It’s time to get Nasty,” he said as he lifted his shotgun up and cradled it in both hands.

Balls Nasty huddled around the fire to keep warm. “Man, this is a long fuckin’ hallway,” he said to himself. He’d spent days traveling down the corridor to try and find the main office that lay at its end. He carefully sipped the soup he’d made using water from water cooler and leaves from potted plants in the hallway. The warm water heated his body. “What do they have the thermostat set on in here? 50 degrees?”

In the morning Nasty continued his trek. Finally, he saw the large set of double doors at the end of the hallway. They were quite tall and made of a thick, dark wood. Gold inlays ran through intricately cut grooves to create artistic patterns. Balls walked up and used the giant door knocker. The pounding sound echoed through the hallway. A small door within the door opened up. Out popped the head of a man with a thick moustache curled up on the ends. “What do you want?!” he yelled.

“I’m here to see the boss,” Nasty replied.

“No one sees the Boss!” the man yelled back. Balls put the barrel of his shotgun in the man’s face. He fell quite as his face turned into a nervous smile. After a few clicking sounds, the man and the door both slowly inched backwards and open. Nasty entered.

The office was large. The ceiling stretched into what seemed like infinity. Several yards away sat a very large desk with a man behind it. Balls Nasty stepped quickly and closed the gap rapidly. Soon he was standing face to face with Kit Piper. “Are you the man I kill?” Nasty asked as he pumped the shotgun, sending a round into the chamber.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Kit said panicking. “I know it’s a long hallway, but that’s no reason to kill someone.”

“That’s debatable,” Balls said as he aimed his gun. “But the real reason I’m here is because you left me and my teammates for dead at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Then, you use my image to sell Hostess Twinkies.”

“What?”

“Twinkies, dick breath! I’m Balls Nasty! I eat Moon Pies! Moon Pies, motherfucker! Oh, and Vanguard Atlantis is dead.”

“Vanguard Atlantis?” Kit pondered. “Oh! You guys are behind on your franchise fees.”

“Behind on our..... They’re dead, asshole. They’re all dead. All my friends died at the bottom of the ocean. And you don’t even remember their names.”

“I don’t see a roster on the application form. Who were they?”

Nasty lowers his gun as he racks his brain to remember. “Um..... there was.......... Paco... No, wait.... Barry? I recall a Barry. That’s not the point right now. I’m here to make you pay for their deaths and the long ass walk to get to your office. Seriously, what the fuck is up with that?”

Kit sighed. “It was the only way I could keep people away from me and myself safe. Most smart people would have turned away after a couple of days.”

“Smarts is for nerds.”

“Well, yeah, sure... ok. Anyway, I made a deal with the Metatithenai...”

“The what?”

“The Metatihentobu?” Piper said, less sure of his pronunciation.

“I mean,” Balls said puzzled, “we’re actually using that thing here?”

“Well, it was just this discarded idea kinda laying out there with nobody using it that really didn’t go over very well at first. I figured that enough time had passed that it was open domain now.”

The two stopped for a moment and looked at each other as if the realization that they were kinda moving beyond the parameters of a story and moving more into self commentary and critique and maybe they needed to get back on fucking track and move the story to its conclusion.

“Um... yeah... so this Metahenny thing you were talking about.”

“Yes! The Metahousey!” Kit exclaimed. “The living, omni-dimensional building... or something. I made a deal with it to anchor it here in Miami in my office. It really likes the Cuban coffee and watching the girls in their bikinis. Kind of creepy, but I don’t judge. In return it is to protect me from those wishing to do me harm. Though it seems to be ASLEEP ON THE JOB!”

“Gotta lot of enemies, huh?” Nasty said as he paced around the large desk. “Adversaries of Vanguard still attempting to extract revenge for foiling their evil plots?”

“No,” Kit said ashamed. “If only they were. I.... uh.... I’ve fallen on very hard times. Recovering from a gambling addiction isn’t as easy as some people think. I would think I was done just to have some random little something come along and bring back the urges. A school raffle ticket bought from your own daughter slowly leads to weekend sprees in Vegas and Atlantic City. Five dollars turns into five thousand. I did everything I could to hide it from Vanguard. If they had found out, I’d have been homeless and pennyless. So I used a series of small clauses in the contracts to help me generate money. That’s when I started the franchises. For a few grand people could have their own Vanguard, but the contracts were so limiting in the areas of operation so as to keep them off the radar.”

“Vanguard Atlantis.”

“Yes. And Vanguard Samoa. Vanguard Iceland. Vanguard Falkland Islands. You get the picture.”

“You must have made yourself quite a bit of money.”

“A grand total of $483.22. I really couldn’t charge much for the franchise rights if I wanted to keep the whole thing quiet. Plus, after paying a lawyer for the contracts, postage, a notary... It was pretty much all gone before I got it. I really didn’t think that one out. But I took over the whole Vanguard brand after they all retired after that last big mission.”

“Oh, yeah,” Balls nodded. “I remember that one. It was all over the news. Man, that was fuckin’ huge.”

“You have no idea,” Kit stood and began to walk to the front of the desk. “Being right in the middle of it was unbelievable. The tension. The moral ambiguity. The fortitude to forge through it all and make a stand. It was breathtaking and emotional. A real triumph. I feel sorry for any person who may have missed it as it is a tale that would make a grown man weep and inspire all to greatness.”

“You know... somebody should make a movie or something about that.”

“Yes, I agree. A telling of the story in some form would be fantastic. But back to the matter at hand.”

“Oh, yeah. Me killing you.” Nasty raised his gun once again. “So long, asshole.”

“No, wait! Killing me won’t bring your friends back.”

“Who?”

“And it’ll be something that you’ll have to live with the rest of your life.”

“Okay.”

“No, seriously, you’ll have to live with the pain and regret every day for the rest of your life. Can you handle that?”

“Well, I don’t really think I’ll regret it.... so, yeah, I can handle it.”

“My life isn’t worth taking,” Kit began to plead. “I have nothing left.”

“This office looks pretty swank.”

“All the Metahubahuba. It can generate any appearance it wants inwardly.”

“So, like, you weren’t sitting in a real chair but, like, on its tonsils or something. Gross.”

“It’s all an illusion. Everything is an illusion. All of the hotels, ad endorsements, toys, shirts, everything is only enough to cover my debts. I have no money. I have no friends. I have no family. My girls were taken from me.”

“Uh-huh,” Nasty said with a deep sigh as Kit began to blubber and pour his heart out like a two drink drunk in a bar.

“Seems I didn’t show the best judgement when my wife was killed by mobsters trying to collect my other debts. Instead of calling the police, I left the country with my two girls illegally. That made me a ‘person of interest’ for a while before I could clear that up. Then, the courts decided that keeping a family in a building that’s attacked on nearly a weekly basis wasn’t a healthy environment for children and took custody.

“And because I’ve whored out their images for my own personal profit, none of the surviving team want anything to do with me. They won’t return my calls or emails. A few of them have even started a class action lawsuit against me. I ask you, Mr. Nasty, have you ever seen a man in a worse state?”

“Well, I guess not.” Nasty grabbed the bowl of mixed nuts sitting on Kit’s desk. “I’ll just take these for the walk back.”

Balls Nasty walked back out the door and out of sight. Kit Piper began to smile as he wiped the tears from his eyes. He had been given yet another chance. This time, he felt it, he was going to make it all right. He was going to be a new man. A better man.

“You know what?” Balls said as he re-entered the room. “Fuck it!” He pulled the trigger. Kit’s body fell backwards, lifeless, onto the marble floor. Nasty stood over the body, contemplating for a few minutes. “Nope,” he said aloud. “No regret.”

The End