VIOLATION As written by Razorback Jack (glendarl@socal.rr.com) TTA characters (c) Warner Brothers/Amblim Ent. 2001 LT characters (c) Warner Brothers 2001 Any new character added into this story is either one I have created or one created with the consent of the party representing the character. All characters/products are the sole property of their owners. Rated R: Language, violence, sexual situations *** And now for a brief apology by the author: Good day. I have received a bit of negative commentary about the last chapter (Publicity and Secrets) which I had expected. However, what surprised me was that it was more towards the quality of the humor rather than the rape scene at the end. I therefore am trying to figure out why it was the humor that was criticized, but then again I have been unable to write effective TTA humor because it is not weird enough. In fact, it's just plain juvenile in a way. Still, I apologize for the quality of the humor in that chapter, and for any other breeches of good taste. I promise you, there may be more in the future, but I will try and make sure I don't offend anyone. And now for something completely different. *BOOM!* *** Chapter 7: A Slip of Paper Homicide readied himself for what was likely to be a brutal day. He already had quite a substancial body count already, but he was still trying to figure out the most effective way to kill Lola...therefore, he needed plenty of target practice. As he slipped his combat gear on, the sound of sound sleeping could be heard in the room. He turned, and saw the furry body of Camry Curvaceous, wearing only her fur...and a blissful expression on her face. He smriked slightly. Apparently, she enjoyed it rough, he surmised. What had began as a simple rape had turned into something surprisingly passionate. It also contradicted his evil spirit...but, he felt a twinge of guilt. He shook his head, trying to put his mind on his work instead of on Camry... Camry, meanwhile, was beginning to wake up, the thoughts of the previous night still fresh in her mind...as she stretched out from her comfortable position, she noticed Homicide leaving. She smiled, saying, "Good morning...going on another hunt, love?" He stopped. Love...it had been a long time since someone had used that word for him. It felt vaguely...unnatural, in a way. He turned around and looked at her...for the first time, he saw not just a spy, and employee...he saw a living, breathing, sentient being that loved him, even if he was as evil as they come. He turned around, stepping out of the window and firing his jetpack once more. As Homicide zoomed out into the air, Camry got her bearings and looked for her clothes...or what was left of them, at least. She then noticed a slip of paper, just lying on the floor. She reached over and picked it up...it was a poem by Robert Frost. As she read it, she began to see Homicide in a new light... The Road Not Taken By Robert Frost Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that, the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh! I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. Camry looked down at the piece of paper. She shed a tear, taking the meaning of the poem in with a heart filled with love and treachery...it wasn't right for her to cry, she knew, but she did all the same. She held it to her breast, sniffling slightly...the realization had finally dawned on her. She was in love with a madman. *** All quiet on the Western Front...oops, wrong story! *ahem* It was quiet in the streets of Acme Acres. Well, quieter than usual, at least. But the relative silence was broken when the sound of many chickens being run over by a car suddenly shot up from a cross-section. Within moments, a car was barrelling down the road at a precarious speed, brimming with psychadelic knick-knacks and hoopla. It careened by a chruch bus, lightly tipping it over as it then shot through a building. All the while, a police car was chasing it madly. "STOP! STOP, OR MY MOTHER WILL SHOOT!!" "Why Inspector!" Whatshisname quietly said. "I didn't know you had a mother!" "I don't," retorted the Inspector, leaning out the driver's side window. "It's just a catch phrase." He then put the pedal to the metal, in time to catch a glimpse of a collision...between the Stupid Brother's car and a certain green duck. The duck came down as a rotisserie duck, which the Inspector ran over as well. Amazingly, the duck reformed...just in time to get involved in a third collision, this time at the hands of...Fifi. "Mon dieu! Oh, did moi 'urt mah precious skunk hunk, no?" Silence. "Zut alores! (I do not know why moi said that, eet just sounded right, no?) Is mah skunk hunk dead?" Quote the Plucky: "I'm not dead yet!" *THUD* Back at the chase scene, the Inspector was gaining on the Stupid Brothers. He pulled out his Patriot missile, and aimed at the Stupid Brothers' car. However, as soon as it launched, it immediately shot right past the fleeing vehicle, and smashed into a day care center. As the Inspector passed by it, he heard, "I pity da foo dat blow up a day care center wit' a defective Patriot missile!" He just shrugged, making a note to tell a cop. He then corrected himself, since he was already a cop. Suddenly, a blinding flash of light appeared out of nowhere, and then... "Crap! A Gumby Roadblock!" Yes, the mysterious and misunderstood Gumby people, in their knotted hankies, galoshes, and tacky clothing, had once again impeded the flow of normal traffic! What did the Inspector do to counter? He just ran them over. This soon resulted in a few dents from flying bricks, and some larger ones in the shapes of Michael Palin. Nonetheless, the relentless pursuit went on...and on...and on...and then off. Off? How could it go off? *BOOM!* Ah. I see it now... A great torrent of water was by now shooting through the air. And at the middle of this lay two severely damaged cars, and four soaked folks. The wild chase was finally over. The Inspector slapped handcuffs onto the Stupid Brothers. After then bandaging the bruises from the slap, he gave the Stupid Brothers the riot act. "Look," he said, bluntly, "you have GOT to stop papering the town with Disney contracts! And putting bombs in people's lasagna, now that you mention it...and the Gumby roadblocks...and turning Professor Fudd into a fig tree...it's all got to stop! From this point on, I am placing you under constant surveillence! And I..." The speech was unceremoniously interrupted by a harsh shriek of horror. It then went dead as an explosion followed almost immediately after. A black plume of smoke rose nearby, and the Inspector gaped in horror...he rushed to the radio in his car, and began rattling off dozens of messages. The police nets were now abuzz with the news, and soon, three units were dispatched to the place where the explosion occurred... *** Homicide smiled at his victim. The pungent smell of burnt flesh met his nostrils...to him, it was the smell of victory, of bloodlust, of the triumph of evil. He was strangely unsatisfied, and he knew why: this was not who he was looking for. Lola had been an elusive one as of late. His best efforts to find the sexy rabbit had all been in vain, every attempt to fire on her thwarted at the last possible instant. There must be a better way, he grumbled to himself, holding his gun lightly... He cocked his head to the right. The police were coming. A decision came to him...was it better to flee, and prevent himself from being known? Or would he just "blow the competition away?" It was like a chess game. Each move he made, each move the other side made...it could either lead to victory or defeat. He smirked. There was much to be said of the value of firepower...he stood his ground, turning his back towards the bright entrance to the alley. The three police cars came swiftly, skidding to a halt at the entrance. Six officers soon stepped out of their respective vehicles, weapons drawn. One looked at the corpse, shattered and utterly hideous; another scanned the distance. He spotted Homicide, and raised his gun. "FREEZE!" he shouted, the others pointing their weapons at the silhouette as well. "Police! Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!" Homicide just smiled as the police were at his back. He turned around, and under the cover of his darkness, readied his gun. "And why should I be inclined to do that?" he retorted. He always enjoyed a good taunting. "Uhm...drop your weapon, or we will shoot!" Homicide just smirked, and raised his weapon. "I think not," he slyly said, and suddenly he pulled the trigger. The mini-rockets swarmed out, and soon, more explosions rocked the area as the officers ceased to live, their cars turned to smoldering slag. As the flames shot up from the bodies, their screams of agony ignored by their killer, Homicide laughed maniacally, taunting his victims to their very end. He then stopped, and turned around, walking away. "I love the smell of burning flesh," he said grimly. "It reminds me...of Hell." He chuckled quietly to himself as he disappeared from whence he came, away from the eyes around... *** Time passed. It was now evening, and Buster and Babs were walking together, as they always did on favorable evenings. They'd heard about the massacre, and now the Inspector was attempting to contact a federal agency to declare a manhunt for this killer. The exact same thing would have occurred in real life, but with perhaps less alarm. After all, THERE they had John Gacy, Son of Sam, the Zodiac Killer(s), the Yorkshire Ripper, and Charles Manson. Even so, SOMETHING had to be done. Nevertheless, the couple walked in the park. It was still a bit early in the year, the flowers blooming on the trees. Sometimes, the 'l' was removed and all hell broke loose. Sometimes, it was just a divorced couple, other times, another of Montana Max's schemes to kill them. Fortunately, this was not one of those times. "So," Buster began, taking in the spring air, "What do ya wanna do?" "I dunno," Babs cutely replied, "Maybe we could..." "Yes?" "Well...hehe, it's kind of...secret." Buster raised an eyebrow, and moved his ear closer. "No...get closer." Buster complied. "Closer." Buster's ear was practically right in Bab's face. She suddenly yanked it towards her and yelled, "Maybe we could GET OUT OF HERE!!!" Buster shot back about fifteen feet, crashing into a park bench. Babs had apparently gotten the idea in her head that maybe she was next on the hit list. "Why leave? It's so peaceful...tranquil..." "That's what bothers me." "Huh?" "Somebody could be out there! Somebody might be watching us, waiting to KILL US!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!" Buster just facepalmed as Babs ran about all frightened, like a bunny running away from a hungry fox...oops, bad analogy. He couldn't tell if she was telling the truth, or being ruthlessly sarcastic. Either way, he'd probably have to leave anyway...the last time she went into this sort of fit, it had been in the movie theater. He rubbed his sore...erm, "behind," remembering with fear what had ensued immediately afterward. What could he do? They left post haste. The janitors later complained about skid marks, but then again, who takes them seriously, anyway? *** Well, that was an interesting ending to this chapter...on a somewhat higher note, too. *sigh* Cripes, has it really been this long since I last did a chapter? Oy...*ahem* anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope it wasn't TOO offensive...or, if it was, you'll hold off on the lawsuits. I also hope that my humor is a bit better...lately, it's been kind of hard to come up with funny material. Maybe I should try doing a MiSTING of a TTA story...although I'm working on MiSTING the mother of all crossover fics (in my opinion). ^_^ Anyway, comments, reviews, etc. are always welcome, as are requests. Artwork is also accepted, but please observe the R-rating. I will occasionally make exceptions if need be, but please tell me what you have in mind before you put anything down on paper. It may end up I ask something of you, so I don't fully expect to be given too much work. Stay tuned for the next chapter, then! (Unless I deep-six the story...*sigh*)