Skittletopia
17-10-2003, 11:25
The horn of a large container vessle can be heard off somewhere to the right. it resonates around the steel warehouse, packed to the brim with disc after disc of pirated software. copies of games so quickly leaked, the gaming press has no idea they even exist in beta form. five shifty looking men stand off to the corner. "Well, this is it gentlemen, our fortune." says one, waving his arm at the stacks as if conducting an orchestra. "each one of these millions of disks will sell for at very least fifty notes. i can't even comprehend that much fucking money" he chuckles exitedly while lighting a large, almost comedeic cigar. lackeys in grey overalls begin driving forklifts about, taking the discs to loading areas. then, gunfire. everyone whips around to the general direction. "Oh shit!" the body of a kelvar-clad guard is thrown from the balcony. "It's him! Kill the lights! the lights!"
Darkness engulfs the entire area accompanied by the sharp thud of the switches. then. a beat, and an unfarmiliar voice.
"Did i hear you right, did i hear you sayin' that you're gonna make a copy of a game without payin'?"
eight huge guards cast thier lights at the area the sound came from and see nothing, they approach cautiously, shuddering like terrified children. He drops down from the ceiling and lands in thier beams of light. he is clad in a yellow and black jacket bearing the insignia "DP". thier worst fears are correct "Cmon guyyyys."
"Oh shit, shoot him!" they all unload Ak47's at the target.
he artfully dodges the shots, gunkata-stylee to the beat. before drawing a pair of desert eagle .50AE'sand bludgeoning the eight guards to death with the base. "I thought you knew better don't copy that floppy"
he stomps out all of the maglights and fades back into darkness. "REINFORCEMENTS!" cries the terrified, shifty boss.
the room floods with men in full riot gear carrying benalli automatic shotguns. they sweep the room. but he's too good. *bang*. one goes down, **bang bang bang**. three more hit the deck bleeding profusely, thier shattered heads not unlike dropped eggs. one gets a torch on him but **bangbang bang bangbangbang, bangbangbangbang** the entire squad is wiped out. he drops his own empty pistols and picks up two of the full benallis, straps another two to his back. bludgeons one of the shifty guys and wastes six more in a tremendous bloodied mess. they are literally torn to shreds by the hail of two point blank, automatic shotguns. he stays in an umpressive pose crossed shotguns. then drops them, replacing them with the two on his back. he spots a crack of light as the terrified boss flees.
the boss pants and wheezes in a small white office. a five-seven pistol trained on the door. waiting for the disc protector. at that moment, a forklift crashes through the door and raises him by the jacket on the forks. he flails pathetically unable to free himself as the disc protector laughs maniacally, skidding back into the main warehouse. "You'll jusut make a copy, for you and a friend, and he'll make one and she'll make one and where will it end?" he leans forward and whispers in the boss's ear. "here."
he dives from the forklift leaving a satchel charge on the seat and rolls for seemingly an eternity, until the forklift hits the disks, the boss screaming "NOOOOOO!" as the bomb goes off, scattering piles of unusable disks everywhere. which flutter around the smiling disc protector as approaching policecars slam on and skid to a barrier. a solitary message in white appears on the screen as he turns and walks off. "Don't pirate software, we know where you live". then "The Gaming Software Producers of Skittletopia"... the commercial ends and the Skittletopian news rolls.
Darkness engulfs the entire area accompanied by the sharp thud of the switches. then. a beat, and an unfarmiliar voice.
"Did i hear you right, did i hear you sayin' that you're gonna make a copy of a game without payin'?"
eight huge guards cast thier lights at the area the sound came from and see nothing, they approach cautiously, shuddering like terrified children. He drops down from the ceiling and lands in thier beams of light. he is clad in a yellow and black jacket bearing the insignia "DP". thier worst fears are correct "Cmon guyyyys."
"Oh shit, shoot him!" they all unload Ak47's at the target.
he artfully dodges the shots, gunkata-stylee to the beat. before drawing a pair of desert eagle .50AE'sand bludgeoning the eight guards to death with the base. "I thought you knew better don't copy that floppy"
he stomps out all of the maglights and fades back into darkness. "REINFORCEMENTS!" cries the terrified, shifty boss.
the room floods with men in full riot gear carrying benalli automatic shotguns. they sweep the room. but he's too good. *bang*. one goes down, **bang bang bang**. three more hit the deck bleeding profusely, thier shattered heads not unlike dropped eggs. one gets a torch on him but **bangbang bang bangbangbang, bangbangbangbang** the entire squad is wiped out. he drops his own empty pistols and picks up two of the full benallis, straps another two to his back. bludgeons one of the shifty guys and wastes six more in a tremendous bloodied mess. they are literally torn to shreds by the hail of two point blank, automatic shotguns. he stays in an umpressive pose crossed shotguns. then drops them, replacing them with the two on his back. he spots a crack of light as the terrified boss flees.
the boss pants and wheezes in a small white office. a five-seven pistol trained on the door. waiting for the disc protector. at that moment, a forklift crashes through the door and raises him by the jacket on the forks. he flails pathetically unable to free himself as the disc protector laughs maniacally, skidding back into the main warehouse. "You'll jusut make a copy, for you and a friend, and he'll make one and she'll make one and where will it end?" he leans forward and whispers in the boss's ear. "here."
he dives from the forklift leaving a satchel charge on the seat and rolls for seemingly an eternity, until the forklift hits the disks, the boss screaming "NOOOOOO!" as the bomb goes off, scattering piles of unusable disks everywhere. which flutter around the smiling disc protector as approaching policecars slam on and skid to a barrier. a solitary message in white appears on the screen as he turns and walks off. "Don't pirate software, we know where you live". then "The Gaming Software Producers of Skittletopia"... the commercial ends and the Skittletopian news rolls.