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"FOG 2 - Judgement Day"

I happened to be watching Terminator 1 and 2 recently, so I decieded to do a SR version. Add to it if youíd likeÖ All the characters in this are purely fictional, and any likenesses to actual Foggers is purely conincidental ;-)


The Tiltawhirl 1000 straightened up, its eyes roving.

ìKill TBNî

The message flashed in front of its eyes, alerting it to its mission. Made of molten Nintendo, it looked about for a carÖ


Bonus looked around, shotgun held over his shoulder, searching for the person he was supposed to be guarding. The message Phil Harrison, Sony America chairman, had drilled into him in the future. ë Turbonutter is vital to the survival of the Playstation 3 against the Gamesphere. He must survive. At all costs.í.
He must find the young gamer, before the T-1000 did.


Turbonutter stood in his garden, rifle set against his shoulder, target range set out. He span, sighting and shooting in one moment. The SNES shattered, fragments flying everwhere. Second shot. The GBA flew out of the tree, propelled by the bullet set squarely in the middle of the screen. TBN sighted carefully, the minute Gamecube, surely beyond his skillsÖ..A bullet landed squarely in the centre. TBN looked smug, but what? The Gamecube was flowing, moving upwards to form a human shape.
ì Tiltawhirl? What the?î
The T-1000 smiled coolly, and moved towards his target, hand already shaping into a console designed to cove in the rebels head.
ìDuckî
Bonus leapt over the fence, spinning his shotgun into firing mode. A hole appeared in the purple casing of the T-1000. Bonus grabbed TBN and pulled him over the fence.
ì But my PS2! I canít leave it!î
ì Your PS2 is already dead.î Said Bonus coolly.
ìNo!î TBN wouldnít believe it.
Bonus pulled TBN into a waiting truck, as Tiltawhirl-1000 smashed through the fence, twin SNESís working in tandem to reduce the wood to splinters.
ì What is that?î said TBN, horror on his face.
ì The pure embodiment of Nintendo. Rebuilt in the 2020ís by Nintendo, from the most dedicated Ninty ever, to hunt down and smash the loyal Sony fans. We live in hidingÖî Bonus paused from the explanation to grab a PS1 from the back seat. He struck a match, lit the cord sticking out of the machine and threw it speedily at the feet of the T-1000.
Smoke and parts exploded everywhere, and the machine flew backwards. Bonus reversed speedily and accelerated.
ì We live in hiding, protecting our ways in secret. Nintendo intended to wipe us all out, but one man showed us the way. That was you, Turbo. You showed us to exploit the weaknesses in the Ninty way. You helped build the PS3, our ultimate weapon against the GameSphereís control. We had won! But we discovered experimental technology in Nintendoís secret bunker. After destroying the fat, 90yr old plumber guarding it, we discovered what seemed to be a ordinary green pipe. But we knew Nintendo better than that! We travelled back in time to now, where you are vunerable. Only I can protect you from that, the Tiltawhirl-1000. Molten Nintendo. Experimental model.î
TBN sat back in his seat, shocked at what he had heard. He was mankindís only hope from the oppression of a fat plumber and his Ninty army.


The T-1000 looked at the escaping car. He looked down at the shattered GBA, and smiled as it was reabsorbed into his own body. Sony would not win. Nintendo would rule againÖ. He needed a human form to assumeÖ He looked across at the lake, and saw a girl paddling across.
ì Say, thatís a nice canoe!í
Iguana looked up at him questioningly.
ì Can you talk little girl?î
She pointed at the inscription on the canoe. Silent Jess.
He smiled evilly.
ì Perfect.î


ì Tiltawhirl led the Nintyís in the early 21st century. He led them so well the PS2 was hard-pressed to maintain its dominance. But Sonyís attempt at the handheld market was the turning point. We reversed the Gameboyís dominance!í
Turbo listened, fascinated, as Bonus laid it all out.
ì But Nintendo couldnít let that happen. The T(iltawhirl) ñ 800 was born, half man, half Nintendo. He led them in an assault on our strongholds. It wasÖî
Bonus broke off.
ì It can assume any form it touches. It can even become a PS2 fan. Itís horrible, I know, but it could be coming at you from any angle. You canít trust any of them, the notables, the WLTers, not even the present day me.í
A horrified look shot across Turboís faceÖ.


More to come, maybe...It's my first FOG story anyways. No offense meant guys, I'm not really a console person..

Stryke.

Hmmm... interesting story.

Heheheheh

Take that you spikey hedgehog type person!

:-D

They skidded to a halt as a dark-cloaked figure, with a cigarette hanging from his lips, stepped out in front of them. Phil spun his shotgun from his shoulder into firing position.
" Get out of the way."
The figure sighed, and stepped out into the light.
" Now, now. Is that anyway to treat an old friend?"
Phil snarled again.
" RBS. I knew it."
" No, you suspected. What I KNOW, however, is that you are dead, my friend." RBS glanced up at the warehouse. " He will find you. And he will kill you. And I will revel in your death and dance on your grave."
He moved quicker than Phil could ever have thought possible. He leant into phil, shoved the shotgun into the air, and slammed phil hard in the midriff. Phil slammed into the alley wall, and RBS followed through with an uppercut that pounded phil further backwards. Phil's lip split and blood trickled down his face. He put a finger to his mouth, and stared at it.
" You shouldn't have done that."
RBS grinned. Phil pushed himself off the wall, and landed a quick kick to RBS's legs, sending him flying. RBS landed with a thud, and rolled over. He held up something. Phil looked closer. A tracer.
" RUN!" Phil yelled at TBN." I'll deal with it."
TBN turned to run, then remembered what Bonus had done. He turned, fists clenched...

I don't knoow..

Realised nothing happened in my bit of the story. Oh well.

I dunno, they could run across a HEAT fanatic. What d'you think Jess?

OI! My warehouse...

Never actually knew I had a warehouse - you might've told me, I'd have used it..

Aww..

We're sorry.

We'll fit you in somehow. Gaz's turn to write now..

Sheesh!

I've got the most Terminator-like name on here and I've not been mentioned yet.

How about that.

:)

Shortness

--

Phil threw open a box.
ìTake them. Small guns. Make them easily concealable take plenty of ammoî

TBN appeared from behind a crate.

ìWhat? Why?î He asked, watching Phil dig out desert eagles.

ìWeíre movingî

ìHuh? Why?î

ìWe canít stay in one place for too long and.. well, Rastaís being.. weirdî

ìYou think heís on their side?î

îI donít know. But I donít want to risk itî

TBN took a questioning look at Phil, who seemed troubled, then began to unpack a pair of Ingrams.



The T-1000 strode purposefully down the streets, following a route marked by a mental green line. The warehouse loomed overhead. Dark boarded windows and graffiti scrawled walls. Destination: Reached.
Taking one step back, it burst forward threw the wall and into the cavernous hall. Darkness. Trudging forward, shards of glass cracking and splintering under foot it walked into the centre. Scan results: Negative. Primary Target: null. Sub-target: Null.
With no change in expression the T-1000 made a quick movement. Lighted petrol splashed over the nearest box, then onto another and another. The T-1000 stepped over the flaming crates and out of the opening. He needed his contact again.


TBN and Phil heard the explosion of the warehouse as the fire reached the canisters of gas.

ìDamn,î cursed Phil. ìHeís moving quicker then I thoughtî

TBN looked back at the warehouse and the fiery inferno lit up the midnight sky. Splashing the puddles on the street, they broke into a run through the rows of watching houses.

Phil clicked two shells into a shotgun.
" We prepare."
" Surely, he can't find us now. He has no idea." Hope tinged TBN's voice.
Phil looked around.
" He'll find us..."

The T-1000 strode down the street. His contact was waiting at the corner, a thin cigarette clutched in his fingers.
" Do we have a deal?"
The shadowed watcher turned his head slightly.
"Ya mon. I give you what you want."
The T-1000 leaned forward slowly.
" Turbonutter."
" No, I told you, I can't. But I can tell you where he is. In time."
The T-1000 reached and out grabbed the cigarette.
"Make sure that you do. Here is your initial payment."
The contact looked down eagerly as the T-1000 proferred something. A GBA.
The cigarette fell to the ground as it strode off.

The phone rang. Phil swung the gun round to point at it.
" You're far too jumpy, man. This is your personal line. How could it get it?" laughed TBN.
Phil relaxed slightly, and snatched up the phone.
"What?"
" Hey phil, thats no way to greet me!"
Phil relaxed more.
" hey Rasta. What's up?"
" I got you those link cables you wanted."
" Good. Meet me here ASAP."
" I'll be there."
The caller hung up. Phil looked slightly puzzled, but hung up and turned to TBN.
" It was RastaBillySkank. Relax, he's a friend. we can trust him."
" Right...Just like you could trust Jess..."
" IT WASN'T HER FAULT!" yelled Phil. he grabbed TBN by the collar and drove him against the wall. TBN winced as his spine slammed into the concrete.
" I know, I know. Hey, she was my friend too, y'know!"
Phil snarled, and dropped TBN.
"Get ready. Rasta will be here soon. I don't want him to see you. Hide."
TBN looked at phil curiously.
" I thought you said you could trust him."
" He sounded...Never mind. Just, indulge me, OK?"
" Sure thing man. No problem."

Rasta swept in, raincoat soaked, water streaming off him.
" Phil."
" Rasta."
Both were tense, the situation curt.
" Money. Down. Now."
Phil's forehead creased, but he extended a hand to place the money on the table.
" Link cables. Down. Now."
RBS pointed to the bag next to him.
" Anyone else here?"
" No, just me."
RBS nodded, eyes sweeping the room. Empty...No! A slight movement behind a crate. Why would phil lie to him? . RBS smiled, a thin, humourless smile.
He picked up the money, and nodded to phil.
" I'll be seeing you soon Phil..."
He swept out into the rain.

T-1000 looked at the message scrolling down his vision.
The informant is real. Proceed to marked destination.
A map appeared briefly, a route marked in green.
Primary Target : Possible. Sub-Target : Reaper. Positive idenification. Risk assessment : Low. Do not alter from primary target.
It looked around, and slipped off soundlessly down the wet street...