HEY! Get your acts together people!

Chopped liver?

Hey and what am I, LK, chopped liver? Maybe as a Brit you don't get my weird American sense of humor! Maybe you just don't care about Taskmaster... maybe you just want to see me dead!

Oh well, I guess I won't give up my day job!

By the way have you visited http://www.MikelRice.com to see what I did with it. Little better format now, but still pretty simple.

Task, you really want to be like LordKhaine?


Morety re-surfaces in China, where he's been teaching them all how to jump up and down at the same time in order to create a tidal wave which will wipe out the entirety of the American continents...

No, but it would be nice to know that folks are at least enjoying the little stories I, and others, are writing. If not then I won't waste the time on it any more.

Taskmaster shapes his mashed potatoes into a translocator and teleports outta there....

Too bad....

It seems the story is dead... long live the story!

It's been great fun guys.... I guess I'll check back every few weeks to see if this story gets revived from the dead.... Maybe I'll just end it all myself in one final story.

Taskmaster

Oooook, I'm back to the thread

Ok guys, I'm a bit behind you all so...
Do you remember the fight in earth orbit? Ok. Do you remember this here?:

Lord Khaines attack fleet
Earth orbit

"My lord, we need urgent assistance!, "The Hatred" has exploded and cripple the Dragons Bane, half the fleet is damaged" shouted the captain

"What condition is the gleeptoidians fleet in?" asked Wolf, as he manovered his ship for another attack run

"Sir, we havent meet the gleeptoidians yet!"

"WHAT?" bellowed Wolf, he cursed to himself as his concentration sliped and his left shields were stripped by a volley of laser fire.

"It was the Hatred, it just blew up!"

"Curse's, that Lord Khaine is more evil than we thought, all units break off and fall back to the main fleet. I repeat, all units fall back to the main fleet. Lets move it!"

Wolf's fleet disappeared as quickly as it appeared, leaving the remains of Khaine's fleet alone to wonder what had just happened.

"Loibisch, escort the attack group to these co-ordinates, I've transmitted you're orders to you, I'll meet you at nav point alpha #3857, Khaine out....."

Khaine's ship turned and warped after Wolf's fleet.

"You heard him guys, lets move it!" bellowed Loibisch, still in shock from recent events.

Click to expand...

Well, things didn't work out quite as planned...

"One last thing", Loibisch activated the comm. "Fang Squadron, our orders have been changed, proceed to Nav5, your board computers already have to coordinates. I got no idea what's going to wait for us there". He switched off the comm, sighed, and switched it back on again.
"Warp to Nav5 in 5..ok, now we're..4..jumping to Nav5..3..which is near the fleet of Chryst..2..and surely heavily guarded..1..and the last thing I told my squad was..." and again all ships warped at exactly the same time, really looked cool.

The 1.63 seconds in hyperspeed (or Hyperblast? inside joke...) we're as boring as hell.

With a very loud noise the 673th Black Fangs Squadron shot into the the surrounding area of Nav5...and landed in the biggest damn dogfight they ever had. And the last one...

"Oh my..." Loibisch wasn't able to speak/think this to the end (hey, that needs a while...). Instead he did something to save his lfe and rolled his ship left to avoid the laser salvos. Well, not all ofthe pilots have been so smart, and so the 673 Fangs squadron had it's first loss. It was Mike, the newest member of the squadron. Loibisch imself once said that Mike would never make it into a big squad and if he did he'd surely die on his first misson. It wasn't his first mission but his second so Loibisch had lost the bet with Zaccix. But at this very moment Loibisch had some bigger problems than Mike (he's already dead, so what?).

"Incoming enemys" he didn't say which direction, didn't matter. They came from everywhere. After some of his standard maneuvers the first 3 enemys got bored and became some easy targets . The rest of the Fang's squad did pretty much the same, but already the next wave didn't bother with the maneuvers anymore but simply used a big rocket (still in beta stadium), called "Redeemer MkII". It's predecessor "Redeemer MkI.V" was mostly used in "to the death" fights, the so called "Unreal Tournaments" pretty bloody sport, and the death count per person had never risen above 1, as far as Loibisch knew, pretty bloody sport...
Avoiding the Redeemer blast was no easy task, in fact another 2 Fangs members died in the explosion of this deadly weapon. Jim-Bob-Jimmy-Ray-Joe (he never got that name right) did something very amusing...well of course only if you can laugh about kamikaze runs. JBJRJ flew directly into...well, I donT' have to tell you that, do I? *sigh* Ooook!

JBJRJ flew directly through a pack of enemy fighters, oine of those fighter had his frag count risen by two, the other one by three (4 minus one for self-kill). A 3rd d00d shot the rocket straight after JBJRJ, to the mother ship...I won't mention his fragcount here.
Unfortunately JBJRJ died in the explosion, not of the Redeemer but of the mother ship =P.
The other dead guy isn't worth a mention (he was the guy who said he'll take out whole Chrysts fleet on his own...).
Loibisch himself was a bit more safe in his ship than the restof his squad. His RTS (Return-to-Sender) system did it's job very well, not to say pleasing...

The third wave was a bit harder, they had ION-cannons which were pretty effective against the Fangs squad. Loibisch's ship got disabled to 67%, engines running on half, weapons running on 3%, core unstable. He decided that the best way to deal with teh situation would be a tactical retreat (hey!). He ordered his squad to retreat back to the rest of the base.
Loibisch himself wasn't able to flee back to the burned out hull of "The Hatred", too many enemys in his way. So he decided to try to make it out of Earth orbit, into Earth atmosphere...unfortunately he didn't watch his six properly, and his enignes got disabled another 27%, rendering them too weak, not to say useless, for navigating in Earth atmosphere.

His ship - almost ocmpletely out of control - was falling "down" to Earth. With the little control Loibisch had left he managed to have a - let's call it "safe" - landing near the surrounding area of
........................................................................................................................
Las Vegas

Next passage in Vegas coming soon (I hope)



So the squadron lost 113 of it's 12 members (or something like that ), and only Loibisch survived (I g2 get rid of that squad...)

Loibisch

*sigh*, the good old times...

0wned.



Christmas in August is so underrated.

amuse you say? you want a muse? kinda like selma hayak in dogma?

Almost Home

"Will you look at that!" exclaimed Task 2 as the car reached the top of a hill.

"The mother lode!" echoed the real Taskmaster as he took in the view.

As the car sped down the hill toward the valley they could see the bright cty lights of Las Vegas. Their destination was finally in reach. The momentary excitment seemed to wipe away the forbodding danger and immense magnitutde of their impending arrival.

"Woohoo!" screamed Taskmaster at the top of his lungs, wth his head sticking out the car window. The crisp night time air whipped across his face at 70 mile per hour. His hair danced wildly in the moon light. The approaching alien spaceships were literal a million miles away from his thoughts.

The excitment slowly wore off and Taskmaster dropped back into his seat. The raod trip was about to end, and the reality was about to begin. He solemly looked over at what bascially himself driving the car, and remembered the gravity of the situation.

Task 2 felt the weight of Taskmaster's stare and glanced over, and for a moment felt his namesake's pain. He, out of all the people in the world, could actually understand what it was to stare back at yourself. To know that your entire reason for existing was for someone else benefit, yet not even knowing the reason. On someone else's whim his life was change forever... on someone else's whim it would end.

Faced with the overwhelming desire to run away and hide, Taskmaster did what he always did under pressure...told a joke.

"Sorry to stare..." he finally said, "but I just realized how good looking I am!"

"It must be the genes." shot back his clone with a laugh.

"I..." started Taskmaster, then stopped. "I, I don't have a clue as to what is going to happen, but I just wanted to say 'Thanks'"

"Thanks? For what?"

"For letting me know." he replied. "If I'm going to die I at least appreciate knowing about it. I have a better changce fighting something I know is coming."

"I may be a clone, but I don't want to die anymore than you do. At least you have a home here, family and friends. I'm just some lab experiment that got out of his cage."

"Well one thing is for certain." mustered Taskmaster, "What ever happens, life will never be the same again!"

"Hey look... a signpost up ahead."

"Las Vegas 45 miles" read Task 2 as he piloted the car onward.

The look-a-likes turned inward on their thoughts as the wind whistled past their windows. The desert landscaped rushed by in a blur of dark shapes and shadows under the dim, moon lit sky. Destiny awaited their arrival.

The Luxor

"Wow!" whistled Task 2 as he drove down the main strip of Las Vegas. The glitter and glitz mixed with the delapidated and faded, the filthy rich mingled with the dirt poor, the haves and the have nots shared the same city.

"I think we just discovered why California doesn't have any power..." mused Taskmaster, "...all these lights are sucking it dry! I don't thin I have ever seen this many lights in one place before... and not a single one is burnt out."

"He who has the money has the power..." remarked Task 2, "...and the electricity!"

"Man, I can almost smell the decadence." noted Taskmaster as he glanced from side to side taking in all the sights. The glittering lights reflected in his eyes.

"They have no need for street lights thanks to all the neon signs and light displays." stated Task 2. "And all the loser are paying the bills! What a racket."

"So how do we get it on it?" joked Taskmaster.

They "ooh'd" and "aahh'd" their way down the famous strip of casinos, night clubs, liquor stores, fast cash and pawn shops, "gentlemen" clubs, and every other type of sleazy past time you could name.

"Look!" pointed Taskmaster, "There is my mashed potatoe hotel. I mean, that's the place I sculpted out of mashed potatoes!" [Ed. note: See previous story a few pages back]

"The Luxor!" enthused his clone. "Well... I guess this is it." he sighed. He drove the car into the huge lot and parked.

The excited pair exited the car and stood in the cold night air looking at each other across the car's roof. Taskmaster was the first to glance up at the "stars" near the moon. They seemed to be growing bigger and brighter as he stared at them, but it may have just been in his head.

"They'll be plenty of time to worry about that later." said Task 2 flatly. "Let's get a room and get some sleep. I, for one, am tired!"

"Yea... if I can sleep."

*****

It was 3:46 PM local time as the pair made their way through the casino's entrance and lobby. Taskmaster noticed the arcade was full of young kids playing unsupervised and a few were asleep on the floor. He didn't need to ask where their parent's were... as he already knew. They were somewhere in the flashing lights of row upon row of slot machines and card tables. "Victimless crime you say" thought Taskmaster.

"I'm sorry Sir, but your over your credit card limit." said the clerk into the phone, "I can't have any more drinks sent to your room."

"Welcome to the Luxor!" smiled the clerk as the twins walked up to the front desk, "How can I help you."

The travelers made arrangements for a room for the night. "Enjoy your stay." chimed the clerk as she handed Task 2 a phamplet. "Welcome to Las Vegas" was emblazed on the front across a night time picture of the strip. Inside was all type of advertisments extoling the virtues (or lack of them) of each establishment.

*****

Night had given way to day, hiding for a few scant hours the various fleets of star ships approaching the Earth. Somewhere in the midst of the multitude of rooms in a city of numerous hotels in a state with hundreds of cities in a country with 48 states (the other 2 are "out of the country") slept a pair of young men, whom by fate, shared the same DNA and genetic information. There destinies were intertwined like a piece of strawberry Twizzler that was even now being slowly pulled apart.

Sleep did not come easy, and when it came it was filled by disturbing dreams...or maybe visions, of untold horrors and unknown evils. Sleep, but no rest for the weary and heavy laden.

Morety, back home in Canada from a Florida hockey hockey vacation which included Krispy Kreme Donuts, decided he'd had enough snow and booked a 4 day trip to Las Vegas.

He'd received a nice deal at a fairly new hotel. He had checked into the Luxor, pretty much event free. He'd taken his 5th floor room overlooking the strip, and had immediately left to go look for a game and fortunes untold.

Unfortunately, the Casino Luxor was pretty full. He was standing as close as possible to a blackjack table patiently waiting for a spot to open up.

5 minutes. 10 minutes. No one was moving out. Impatience was building. Fortunately for Morety, so was gas. *PWaaaaaaaaaaaat* A nice, quiet and airy gas pang sneaks out. Suddenly, it was just Morety splitting his bets with an ashen faced dealer...

It's a gas, gas, GAS!

Taskmaster awoke groggily to a knock on the door... "Housekeeping" called the femine voice on the other side.

Taskmaster cast a wary glance, with one eye opened, at the bedside clock. 10:30 AM. "Uooahhh" he moaned as he rolled over and sat up. He wiped the crust from his eye and scratched his chin.

"Can you come back later?" he half asked and half demanded.

He grabbed his clothes from the floor and entered the bathroom. He barely noticed that Task 2 was not in his bed as passed by. He started the hot water and relaxed under the steaming stream of water.


MEANWHILE IN THE CASINO

Task 2 was not much for gambling, nor was he much for anything. Spending most of his short life in the lab, being exposed to accelerated growth hormones and top-secret experimental cell altering drugs, he had not had much time to do anything normal people take for granted.

Having woken up, but not wanting to wake the snoring form of his genetic twin, he had decided to take a self-guided tour of the hotel. The free breakfast bar had held his attention for a while -- until he was full.

The hustle and bustle of the casino had attracted him next and he decided to try the various games of chance (little or no chance as he understood it). Slot machines seems a bit mindless after a couple of bucks so he decided to try BlackJack.

A few of the ladies at a table were more than willing to teach him the game, at least the basic idea. Having a nice wad of money he had borrowed from one of the corpses during a botched recovery attempt (the had botched recoverying he and a few fellow clones) didn't hurt his popularity.

BlackJack required more thinking, and his sharpened mental abilities that were a byproduct of the genetic manipulation made it easier to count the cards even with a six deck shuffle. He was doing pretty well and saw no reason to quit as long as he and his new found companions were having fun.

"Excuse me, but can you step back a bit please?" asked Task 2 politely as a man behind him was a little over eager to see what was going on. "I just need a little elbow room, if you don't mind."

"Sure. Yea, no problem man." responded the man as he moved a bit back.

"Any room here for another?" the man asked a few moments later, obviously intent on joining this table.

"Table is full." replied the dealer as he raked in the cards. "Place your bets."

"Come to papa..." teased Task 2 watching the cards being dealt, and a jack of spades showing. A young lady gave his arm an excited squeeze as she squealed gleefully.

"Black jack!" said Taskmaster as he collected his winnings.

"Oh goodness, what is that smell?" he ask his female companions, rhetorically.

"He who smelt it, dealt it!" chimed in the stranger who had been hovering over Task 2's shoulder.

"Get a life..." suggested Task 2 as he tipped the dealer a hundred, "you need one worse than I do!"

"Leaving so soon?" asked the man sarcastically as he sat down to play cards.

The dealer waved to his pit boss for a replacement. He needed a break, and some fresh air.

Morety seats himself at the blackjack table...grumbling to himself.

"Smelt it dealt it, man, I thought that was funny. What a jerk. Get a life, hmmmph. He should get a life"

"Sir, Sir?!?!"

"Uh? Oh, oh sorry, wasn't concentrating there. Hit me."

As the ashen faced dealer pulls throws up a 3 to go with Morety's ace in the hole, a low, deep sounding grumbling noise slowly comes into hearing range. Rising in volume, slowly. The glasses begin to rumble, shaking on the countertops, ashtrays rattling, shaking free their ashen contents.

The dealer, suddenly had a look of fright in her eye. "Oh please sir, no, not again. I don't think I can handle another one. I have a break coming up in two minutes, could you please hold onto it."

"Uh, that isn't me or my stomach" Morety confides in all seriousness. He wonders to himself if it's the Chinese he had trained to jump up and down in unison, but dismisses it as he had not given the word....yet.

Morety folds his hand immediately, and runs over to the nearest window to look outside to see where the noise is coming from....

Rock my world

(Morety, you pushed the story a bit fast here, but I guess that saves me a lot of "small talk" in between! Let's see if any one else will jump in to write the "other people's" part of the story so I don't have to!)



Taskmaster stood in front of the partially fogged mirror blow drying his hair with the small, hotel provided drier. It wasn't very powerful, but it was slowly working. He had allowed himself a long, hot shower as he had no plans for the day and no place to be.

"Gee, I hope all this 'high' heat doesn't damage my hair." he quipped sarcastically. He pointed the hair drier at the fogged mirror clearing a round spot so that he could see himself more clearly.

For a moment he stared at his reflection solemnly. It may as well be my clone and not just my reflection, he thought. It was still hard to get used to the idea that another human being was genetically identical to himself, yet still unique in terms of experiences, thoughts, dreams and desires. I guess this must be what real twins struggle with as they try to establish their own identities. At least we aren't wearing the exact same clothes, he mused.

"So Taskmaster..." he said to his reflection as he brushed his brown hair, "how is this new found twin going to affect the rest of your life? Remind me to not let myself ever be genetically clone again...it just makes such a mess of things."

"Of course, when men decide to play God, certain consequences are inevitable, but in our arrogance we choose to ignore them until it is too late."

Taskmaster pulled on his clothes. He had nothing else to wear since he was forcible removed from his college dorm room, effectively kidnapped. He felt dirty, but his clothes were basically clean in appearance, they had just been worn for the past four days of near nonstop travel from Florida. He ran his hand across his unshaven face wistful for a shave. The unshaven look didn't really work for him, but it would do for now.

Although neither he nor his traveling companion had carried in any personal belongs, other than the clothes they were wearing, he instinctively checked the rooms to ensure he
wasn't leaving anything behind. He noticed the small Gideon provided Holy Bible on one of the night stands and grabbed it.

"I have a feeling I'll be needing the good book." he justified as he slid the small Bible into his back pant's pocket. He headed out to give the luxury hotel the once over and to pick up some food. He had suddenly realized he was "starving".

Before long he was sitting pool side at an umbrella covered table, saying grace over a piping hot cheeseburger and a pile of fries.

"Temptations, temptations!" he muttered as he opened his eyes and looked around at all the scantily clad ladies sunbathing and swimming around the mega-sized pool. The entire area was based on an Egyptian oasis. Royal palms, papyrus and lotus plants skirted the patio area, while the hotel staff had uniforms with an Egyptian flair and style.

He quietly sat eating his meal savoring the flavor of the "fancy" ketchup. Being a college student, he wasn't able to afford the "good" ketchup and had been relegated to using the extra packets of catsup he'd collected from trips to Burger King.

The breeze was cool and gentle, the soft, piped-in music was soothing, and the scenery was pleasing.

"This is the life!" he exclaimed. "I wonder where Task 2 has gotten off too? He doesn't know what he's missing."


AT THE SAME MOMENT IN ANOTHER PART OF THE HOTEL

"Oh yes baby!" gasped the hot blond as she writhed wildly atop Task 2. She was one of the women who had accompanied Task 2 while he played poker. A little time at the hotel's bar had turned into some thing a little more intimate.

Task 2 greedily drew in his breath as he flexed to match his partner's motion. He ran his hands down the supple curves of her soft breasts as they danced against his fingers.

"Baby, you're makin' the earth shake!" blurted Task 2 between breaths as he felt himself reach the point of no return.

Suddenly the lamp rattled off the night stand and shattered on the floor. The bed was shaking worse than a vibrating bed at a cheap roadside motel.

"I'm not the only thing rocking your world!" his naked bedfellow exclaimed as she rolled off his frame and onto the bed next to him.

"Oh man!" shouted Task 2 as he bolted out of bed. "I was hoping to have a few days to prepare..." he continued as he quickly dashed into the bathroom. He was half dressed as he opened the room's door to leave.

"I'd get dressed, and get out of town if I were you..." warned Task 2 as the hotel continued to shake and the loud rumbling outside grew louder and louder. "You don't want to be around when this hits the fan!" With that he closed the door and hurried off.

She laid on the bed, flushed and breathing heavy, as she pulled on her clothes. The look in his eye told her this was no joke. She got out of bed and started packing her things...

****

Taskmaster leapt out of his chair in shock, causing it to tumble over behind him. The water in the pool shook violently like choppy surf. The patio furniture rattled on the tiled deck. His plate, empty except for the unused blob of ketchup, clattered to the floor. Hotel guest clamored out of the pool or ran for the "safety" of the hotel.

A huge object blotted out the sun allowing Taskmaster to look up easily into the sky overhead. The entire area was shaded by the immense object that was approaching from above.

"Oh great God in Heaven!" managed Taskmaster as his jaw dropped. He stood rooted to the pool deck as he stared up in disbelief...

[Edited by Taskmaster on January 24th, 2001 at 05:46 PM]

*** Now for a break ****

(THIS IS NOT PART OF THE ON GOING STORY! This is a story along the lines of what started this thread. A little death and mayhem 'old style' in a hope to get people interested in this thread again... CHRYSt, this one's for you.)



*Taskmaster walked the crowded midway at the state fair.

*Taskmaster seeing a sign that read "BRAVE (but dumb) VOLUNTEERS NEEDED!" decided they must be talking about him.

*Taskmaster entered the tent and agreed to be the assistant for a side-show magician in TRAINING.

*Taskmaster signed several waiver forms in triplicate, smiling happily.

*Taskmaster was strapped to a vertical spinning wheel used for knife throwing exhibitions.

*Taskmaster was blindfolded, then given a good spin.

"Whooooaaa..." screamed Taskmaster getting dizzy... "Hey this is fun!"

*Tasmaster heard a a loud metalic thud and felt a violent pain in his leg!

"Owww... that hit me!" yelped Taskmaster as the knife stabbed through his leg.

"Sorry, I'm new at this..." was the reply of the unseen magician trainee.

"Ugghhh... oowwwww!" screamed Taskmaster as a second knife pounded through his arm.

"Oopps... missed again!" exclaimed the trainee.

"I want off!" pleaded Tasmaster "I quit!"

"Sorry... you signed the papers!" replied the trainee and he whipped another knife toward the spinning "Taskmaster on a platter".

"Sweet Jesus!" begged Taskmaster as he felt two fingers get severed from his hand.

"Quit whinning you big baby!" scolded the trainee, "I only have a few more knifes left."

Thud... another knife... OUCH!, another painful injury inflicted on a very nausious Taskmaster.

Thud... another knife... @*#&$*! bellowed Tasmkaster.

"You didn't need that foot anyway... you have two!"

Another thud of the knife hitting wood, but wait, no pain.

*Taskmaster's one uninjured arm was cut free from its leather bond.

*Taskmaster pulled off his blindfold in time to see CHRSYt let go off the last dagger.

"I'll never get the hang of this!" said CHRSYt dejectedly as the spinning wheel finally slowed to a stop.

"I guess I'll try again!" he said as he roughly yanked the dagger out of Taskmaster's split skull.



Hee hee... nothing like the good old days to warm your heart!

Bad Indigestion....

(I can't resist doing another silly little story, since no one else seems interested in carrying on the "epic" although I felt I was doing some pretty nice story telling!)


*Taskmaster, needing some hardware to do a repair on his UT level, since some thoughtless players had left unsightly bullet holes and bomb craters everywhere, headed for the store.

"Hmmn... CHRSYt's Hardware" mused Taskmaster. "Heavenly products at one helluva low price" read the sign in the window.

*Taskmaster entered the store and began shopping.

*"Hey cool!" muttered Taskmaster as he came to a table of free samples.

*Taskmaster followed the instructions of the little plaque "Eat Me! (one per customer) and swalloed the package of black colored powder.

"Yuck...very gritty and terrible flavor. I'm not going to be buy any of that junk!"

*Taskmaster found a few useful UT level repairing items, such a "Shrapnel Hole Putty", and added it to his cart.

*Taskmaster strolled down the next aisle and again encountered free samples.

"Sweet Sulfur - TASTE ME! (one per customer)" read the sign on this table.

Again Taskmaster managed to get the dry powder down, but again Taskmaster was not impressed by the texture or flavor of the product.

"No wonder they have to give it away!" he choked out.

*Tasmkaster dropped some "Gib 'B' Gone" cleaner in his cart.

The free smaple on the next aisle showed some promise. "DRINK ME! (one per customer)" demanded the notice next to the bottles of liquid.

"Must be hot sauce!" thought Tasmaster since the bottle had flame symbols and some type of warning on them. The foul tasting liquid washed down the dry powders, but left a bad after-taste.

"I wonder how they stay in buiness with stuff that tastes so bad?" he thought to himself.

He grabbed several boxes of "Nali Cow Repelent" hoping to keep those darned pest from eating his grass.

"Man do I have some bad indigestion!" he said as he let out a loud burp!

"SMOKE ME!" was displayed on the last table, and no apparent limit. Taskmaster, although not a smoker, decided that the nasty cigarette taste would hide the even nastier taste of the drink he had just had.

He picked up the cigarette and held it between his lips. He flicked the lighter at the tip of the cigarette.....


"Another clean up on aisle 6!" squaked the store speaker
system.

Taskmaster Goes To The Superbowl

"Man this is sweet!" exclaimed Taskmaster as he examined the Super Bowl badge that gave him access to the sidelines. On the ground next to him lay some wussy photographer whom Taskmaster accidentally hit in the head with a blackjack.

*Taskmaster grabbed his bag of "goodies" and made his way to the field.

*Taskmaster slapped high-fives with his buds on the Raven's squad.

"Welcome back to the bay!" he said to Dilfer. "I've got some 'gifts' for Giants."

"Hey Big Tony!" smoozed Taskmaster as Tony crushed his hand in a shake. "Got you a bucket of KFC right here man!"

*Taskmaster greeted the rest of his buds and then began to prepare. He ran directly across the field on the 10 yard line, a trail of whte power pouring out of his bag directly over the white line already marking the field. No one noticed.

*Taskmaster handed the "ball boy" on the sidelines a football from his bag. Taskmaster flashed his badge and said it was a "commemorative" football.

"I did you a favor coach..." taunted Taskmaster to the Giants head coach, "I super-glued Brittany Spears dressing room door shut. Maybe we can salvage the half-time show after all!"

*Taskmaster reworked the wiring to the instant replay "hood" so it would play a loop of "the head official in a comprimising position" with some text overlaid reading "Raven's favor or this goes to the big screen!"


Time for the kick-off! Taskmaster covered his ears, but not his smile.

"BOOM!!!" the football exploded on impact as it landed in the hands of the Giants' receiver who was back deep. His helmet flew into the stands. "Eww... that hard to hurt."


Goal line stance. Giants trying to stop the Raven's here. Ball on the 12 yard line. Taskmaster lit a match and dropped it on the 10 yard line.... flash powder exploded instanly blinding the Giant defense.. Touchdown Ravens!

Taskmaster unplugged the quarterback coaches headset and plugged it into his boom-box. Cranked up to 11 he blasted Van Halen into Collins helmet bursting his eardrums, which caused his blanace and equilibrium to be off. Interception!

"Ahh" though Taskmaster as he savored the victory. Never has one man done so much for so many, yet be unknown for so long...

HUH?

*Morety finds a bannister made of razor blades.
*Morety gets all nekkid
*Morety yells "HEY EVERYBODY, LOOK AT ME!"
*Morety slides down the bannister
*Morety slices hisself in half on the way down. One half falls on the stairs, the other on the floor beside the stairs.