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And we're back. Apologies for the extreme delay.

Local Paper The Bohemian Had This To Say On The Day They Came Back: The Kings Are Naked

They were expecting steamy fanfiction of whatever they assumed that the greatest people ever of California were imagining and assuming back at them, making it one large circle of making asses out of you and me, but not Yumi, who was probably off being bland elsewhere.

Katsuragi and Atma stood at a soon to be turning point, at a small shop on the way home. The area they were in was honestly kind of redneck, and the stores were still tiny bodega like places that had outdated magazines, new ones, and cheap beer they’d sell you if you were underage and cute. They had to take a piss and felt a bit too dignified to do it behind a tree this time, instead opting for that special feeling only a dirty roadside latrine can give you. A clerk behind the counter gave them a noncommittal shrug as they walked in, his attention focused on a small TV and watching something sporty. He wasn’t too excited, so maybe either the game sucked or his team was losing. Northern California could be picky about its sports allegiances, especially all around the Bay Area.

The Bohemian was known to be a weird magazine. Weird, but accurate and interesting in its reporting. At least they knew how to play favorites and how to nut-shot anyone they didn’t like. Also, chock full of medical dispensery ads for them to laugh at and local ‘wanted’ ads for ‘special massage partners’ who insist on being ‘ultra discreet.’ They thought about calling a few of them to see what they could potentially get into trouble doing, but decided that was a bit too lowbrow, even for them. Girls gotta have SOME standards in life.

“Well yeah, no shit we were naked. We were a lot more than that. We were fucked out of our skulls. You think they’d say something about the cool spiritual journey we had if they’re gonna spy on us.” Kat laughed, flipping to the weed ads to go ‘nice’ every time she saw the number 420.

“I dunno, maybe they need time to research it. Maybe the footage didn’t get bumped to the cloud or whatever the kids are doing now to ruin each others’ lives on the Twitters and whatnot.” Atma yawned as she waited in line, Ayame sneaking ahead of them to go first. Girl was on edge for some reason. Maybe they wouldn’t sell her beer, despite being cute and underage. “What’s it got on us, anyways? Those fuckers work quick.”

Kat’s expression went from amused to curious to concerned to angry pretty quickly. Maybe that’s what got Ayame in a tizz is she read this first and had to go throw up or something.

“Okay, Kat, I know when you look like that, something is actually usually up. This is a shade or three beyond your usual level of disappointment you get when a girl doesn’t play along with your whims.” Atma walked over and began to read over Kat’s shoulders, making out most of the article, save what Kat’s stupid tits were blocking this time.

“Oh, fucking goddammit.” Atma couldn’t even yell. She couldn’t even be angry. This had happened to her in the two years past, in two previous incidents, by the same perpetrator, but it seems with her out of commission, at least for now, someone was picking up the pieces left behind by Nadezhda. There it was, almost word for word, the same report seen by Koshka and Hikage on the local news just the evening prior. This meant a few things for the duo.

One, that everyone else knew this before them and they may very well have people gunning for them now.

Two, they should try not to go on any more spiritual journeys for the rest of this however long it took, lest they get distracted and vulnerable.

Three, and most importantly, would the women of the Golden State support them or would they turn their backs and boobs on them and deny them the pleasure of the sun-tanned tits of Malibu and the San Francisco bay? Ahh, that would be most insulting, most dreadful, but also most worthy of picking up the cause of rectifying this, clearing their names, and getting back to snorting gods only knew what off the tits of cheerleaders. Or something.

Also, a minor fourth was Ayame would have to remain in their care again until this was done, knowing that she now was at liability to be shot or killed as an accomplice for being their caretaker when they were off getting high and wandering around looking for cougars or beavers or some shit like that.

Ayame came out of the toilet and sighed. “So it looks like you two caught up. This again? I’m starting to think maybe my two mentors would be better off being taught a few lessons in how to make less enemies. But I suppose that’s what happens when you both are so loud and free and have such a powerful draw and awww I can’t stay mad at you two, I love you girls so much!” She threw her arms around Kat and Atma and nuzzled up to them both. “It’s gonna be okay! You two are so fearless and strong and beautiful and that’s why you will always win.”

“Also, because I’m gonna shove a boot up this guy’s ass.” Kat huffed. “THAT’S why we win is we don’t take shit because we will hit back.”

“I got a sword.” Atma grinned, trying to keep her cool.

“You always do. If you were a guy, I’d wonder if you were like Ikaruga’s dipshit brother and severely overcompensating for your, well. You know.” Kat gestured towards Atma’s everything.

“My CALIFORNIA REDWOOD? You’re such a useless lesbian, sometimes.”

“No, more like your...well, just look at you.”

“Shut up, babe, I’m hot and you know it!”

“Guys!” Ayame got between them and puffed her cheeks out. “Look, we’re in a serious situation. You can leave the measuring contests between what you may or may not have until after this. We should get home, as soon as we can, and get started on a counter plan.”

“Well, when did you become such a confident little go getter? I do believe we’re finally rubbing off on her, a bit!” Kat snorted in approval, patting Ayame on the head.

“Last year, remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

Atma threw down some change for the paper before the clerk called the cops and had them ratted out, but honestly at this point, he seemed far more offended by this low scoring football game than he was having two now wanted criminal masterminds loitering about and making a hell of a lot of dick jokes for a couple of rowdy lesbians. They got back on the trail and immediately went towards the area past all the rivers and campsites and such where they had parked their trusty car and transforming mech in the time of need, the Pussy Wagon. Once transformed, it became the legendary Pussy Destroyer, combining in tandem with a tank Koshka lent them from time to time called The Red Menace, because she was an easy Russian punchline. They sped up, knowing the rules and laws no longer applied to them, even with what minimally they did while they were the rightful Kings upon the throne.

They would be home in mere moments at this rate, Atma taking the wheel while Kat hung her head out the window and caught some great air, and Ayame held on and tried not to get carsick, at least if she did, not in the actual car part itself. The radio was slammed on and few words were exchanged, letting the energy of the upbeat music fill them with a spirit much needed about now. If they were gonna do this, they would need to be rightfully powered up, and nothing said powering up quite like power metal did, the more chainmail bikinis on the cover too, the better.

No energy or time was spared to call ahead of time and say they’d be home early. They figured by now they had to have been the ones trying to figure out where they were earlier, and by now surely they’d have known, if they hadn’t been hunted down first and made to beat some answers out of some useless goons. Whomever this shithead anonymous was, of which there are many known shithead anonymous out there, as anyone who has ever been to Facebook can tell you, they were going to pay for wrecking their little vacation and trying to start shit again. They couldn’t possibly be as big of a hot shit as Nadzehda. Nor as big of a threat. Evil of that caliber just didn’t exist anymore, ever since they survived the Trump presidency, of which lasted all of a week before some bored teenager wrestled the nuclear code out of his tiny hands by screaming at him on Twitter and getting him to post it in a boast. Everyone admitted that they actually kind of fucked up in that election cycle and decided to give America a break by having no president and instead relying on their good consciences, apple pie, baseball, and a cat named Mittens The Third, Esquire to lead their country. At least Mittens didn’t tweet at 3 am about how great his assets were now and how perfect he is, he only merely shat on the rug a few times a day. A literal shit was better than a shitpost, as most Americans soon agreed. The rest of the world just watched in amusement and adoration of that darn cat, because they agreed it was at least better for international relations than what else they were immediately facing.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

But it was evil and the incidents and apathy that got people like him electable to begin with that seeped into the pores of this country and darkened it and reawoke the spirits of those that ought be best left to their eternal slumbers. A shambles of the glorious rebellion that founded it and subsequent questionable choices in “freedom” like enslaving others, it would be a long time before we all could heal and move past this. It was not the only cause of the reawakening, but it was a major contributing factor, and ultimately historians would look back on this incident and blame ourselves for causing it, but afterwards, most people attributed it to stress and a poor diet. You can always use more fiber, I don’t care what your doctor said.

As the two drove past the forests that they had just been canoodling about in medicated beyond this current dimension any of us inhabit, the dark commanders inside cackled, knowing that the state by now, if not the rest of the nation, was catching wind of the great possible betrayal of their beloved Kings. After all, they had become national and international celebrities on the political stage and sort of as just general interest stories themselves. It’s really hard to hate a pair of dykes excited about doing good for their people while at the same time, playing naked golf from the pool somehow in the main capital offices and only sporting a pair of cool sunglasses. Fore, indeed!

The incident with the front window needing to be replaced was called Golfgate, because everyone is unoriginal in naming their political scandals, and they were fined with comic mischief and merely had to replace it. Those wacky Kings! When would they ever learn? Well, it seemed now was nigh for their time of reckoning, and the Kings would become humble like the peasants they ruled over, giving the evil ones time to enact their nefarious plans.

It was time to awaken more of their kind, the spirits of the Grove, past now into what most people assumed was the Embers below for the lot of them, a few good ones somehow gaining entrance to both it and the Heavens above. The blood of the believers of the conspiracies and the blood of the sacrificial beasts and began to paint nefarious and well known sigils and pentagrams and the like all around the Grove, enshrouding it in blood and the scent of death and sinew. The sky around it went dark and the tress began to rustle with a wind unheard of and unseen elsewhere in the surrounding forest. Lightning and thunder both struck as the Lieutenant and Communicator laughed and applauded the scene. They were giddy, as giddy as people like this possibly could be, and began to recite the unholy, dark words from a tome ancient and ragged that stood open vastly before them. The doubts and the fears from the people of the great state of California began to set in as more and more heard the news about their Kings, helping the dark ones grow in power as they feasted off it greedily. Even the most sure of those that believed in their innocence until the very end of things, and were vindicated for it, felt even the slightest twinge in the backs of their minds that maybe all was not quite well and maybe perhaps the Kings should be made to abdicate in light of the rumors. It’s not exactly easy to come back from accusations of pure fascism. You would have thought they’d have learned that with the recent presidential impeachment, but it’s not always as easy as you would think it would be. Oh well. Live and learn.

And learn they would, painfully, brutally, but thankfully in a mercifully short but dark and bloody war.

Out of the first of the rituals came a new adviser to the Lieutenant and the Communicator. One renowned for scandal and mischief and scarring our nation with great and long painful acts that are still in place, like the infamous War on Drugs. A familiar, unforgettable face for as long as history would remember his ugly visage. The last possible one you or I may want advice from on most matters, but would fit their insidious agenda perfectly. With him having gotten off as not a crook, it was the most crooked of them all.

Richard Nixon had been reborn to the Devil-Master and the Demon Lieutenant. He would be dubbed the Infernal Magistrate, a title worthy of one of a legacy of horrible acts and wretched trouble as he caused. He was glad to be there, at least, and not wherever fiery Hell he had been resting in, hopefully not peacefully at all.

“About time you fools came and got me!” He bellowed as life was breathed back into his shambling body, slowly gaining a more lively, less pale, and ultimately less dead visage. “I was starting to think that you had escaped and gone back on your word about getting me. Time’s a lot slower and harder to get through in Hell, you would know all too well.”

“Be quiet, Magistrate.” bellowed the Communicator. “Be grateful we managed it in such a short time. The state’s already descending into a chaotic state, anyways. They woke up today with word that their beloved, horrible, whores of queens were doing all too well to think of just merely locking them up and running rampant in a string of conquest and pillaging. Possibly rape, you can never be careful around those horrible lesbians.”

The Devil-Master just laughed, because for them, it was all too true.

“Queers and communists!” Nixon, now the Magistrate, shook his head. “We’ll get every single last one of them behind bars if it’s the last thing we do here in America! I’m not through with any of them yet! You remember our end of the deal, though, right?”

“Once I’m reinstated as governor, your presidency will be rightfully reinstated as well, this time, for as long as our possessed bodies can last. Our souls now immortal, though, I have a feeling America is going to get used to not not having a lot of that hope and change it claimed it wanted a couple terms ago! Besides, you’ll be replacing a cat this time around.” the Communicator scoffed.

“A...I’m not gonna ask what happened while I was waiting.”

“A wise choice, Magistrate.”

“And remember, I’m in charge of the press and the propaganda machines making sure the people love us! Or at least, would be far too afraid to oppose us. It would be most unwise, with us in power, I would think, to go against our soon eternal rule.” the Devil-Master laughed, the idea amusing him far too much.

The three were drunk with power and fantasies of political reckoning that would last from now until the end of days as far as they were concerned. First, California. Then, America. Finally, the world! And maybe even space. Especially if it meant beating the Russians and the Chinese again to other planets and satellite formations out there. They’d do just about anything, and they already sold their souls, so they already proved their point that they would even go that far if needed for their horrible, dark mission.

They all stood and shared a laugh. Now was the time to gather materials and begin summoning the others. Smaller, lesser people that required less to trade in sacrifice and rituals to bring back and put in menial but much needed work. They had a list of names of those tied to the Grove and what they thought they’d be best at and began immediately to get this show back on the road, even if the Magistrate had barely been able to dust himself off as is.

“For America!” they shouted in unison, saluting the sky. They would shed a tear, but that was kind of gay, and they refused to have anything to do with that kind of thing.

“Now, to work, before the two Kings realize just who they are and begin to enact their end of the prophecy. We won’t let them get close to letting them see that power come to the light of day, lest all our hard work be ruined and shattered...” the Communicator trailed off a bit. “Bah, they’ll never make it. Come now, we’ve a long day ahead of us.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

It was nice to be back in San Francisco, even if they enjoyed their little forest outing, knowing their home and women were safe was utmost priority right now. That, and sleeping on an actual bed again would be nice, and it means less sand in your vagina.

“So, who do you think is after us now?” Atma asked as they pulled up in the driveway of their nice little mansion they had gotten after they had gotten instated as the Kings. It was just enough for them and their women to live in, with a few other spaces for friends to come by, located to scenic next door Ryobi and Ryona’s house, wanting to make sure they would have an eye kept on them, even if Ryobi was still under house arrest for about 999,999 years. The billion extra was taken off because really, poor girl at least deserved a chance at maybe eventual parole.

“I dunno. A meathead. A dipshit. I’m secretly hoping it’s a harem of extremely hot chicks though, waiting for a very special kind of punishment that only someone as royal and strong and boobs like me can give them.” Kat sneered, hauling her bag out and flopping it in Ayame’s arms to carry in.

“Did you just use boobs as an adjective?” Ayame sat, puzzled, before unlocking the house door and getting everything inside. She did a cursory check and everything seemed alright. Koshka and Hikage were on a nearby couch, not really doing much. The news was on, silent, repeating the same information it had been, as if a national tragedy had occurred. If it were up to Kat and Atma, it would be considered one, but we can’t always get what we want.

The two Kings were exhausted, but rest and sleeping in their beds, probably with each other and their women in tow, would have to wait for more peaceful days. They were too bothered by all the uncertainty in the air anyways to rest well. They came in and embraced their girls and smothered them in kisses, embarrassing them a bit and giving them a hearty staring at in return.

“Look, hi. Glad to see you two back. We were worried.” Hikage sighed. “Well, Koshka was, I know you two can handle yourselves. So can she, but hey, one of us has to care a bit more, and well, that’s just not my bag. You knew that when you got yourself involved with me.”

“So what’s up?” Atma just asked directly.

“If you’ve seen any news, that’s it. They just keep replaying it, we don’t know why. Maybe they doubt it, maybe they’re scared it’s true. We know it’s not; you two are too dense to play the authoritarian role.” Hikage replied. “Well, beyond making fools of Kings yourselves, you’re too...well, not mean and definitely not boring or stuffy to become anything like that.”

“The problem remains in the rest of the state now. Possibly the nation. Do you know if the story’s gone national yet?” Kat asked, her voice getting a tone more serious for once.

“Not a clue. Most likely, though, so your escape routes are limited.”

“We should go looking. If they knew Kat and Atma were in the forest, with me, then we should probably go back and start looking around there.” Ayame interjected. “We have our friends and all the students and informants at New Hanzo. I’m sure they’d be glad to help. I doubt any of them would defect over a rumor that their Kings and instructors had possibly gone rogue and were in the game to have done so in the long haul.”

“Actually, great idea. You handle that, but first...” Atma sighed and began to strip right there. It wasn’t anything anyone had seen so far. “I need a fucking shower. You do too, Kat. You’re still filthy from that quest we went on last night. Rinsing off in a river is on way to get this shit out of your snatch.”

Hikage raised an eyebrow. “My gift worked that well? Well, it’s good to hear you two enjoyed yourselves. Wash up and get some food in you, we’ve long work ahead and we need you two ready and not distracted for once.”

“Oh yeah, it TOTALLY did! We found a cougar matriarch that Ayame here claims didn’t exist and was actually her we were talking to, and the babbling brook told me about my golden beaver and...” Kat was interrupted.

Hikage was writing down everything she was saying so Koshka could get a load of this. When she got the memo, she scoffed as much as a deaf woman could, and sort of pointed at her like “Can you believe this woman?”

“We don’t need to hear about the two or three woman orgy you had while out there. You two definitely got the energy to host one between you. Did you include Ayame, or were you two selfish as usual?” Hikage pondered.

“I...I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Kat blushed.

“Someone’s got a crush...”

“I DO NOT!” Kat huffed, turning her back to them. “Whatever, let’s get settled in and get to work. We’ve a long day ahead of us.”

Hikage and Koshka both just smirked slightly. A rare sight. Koshka couldn’t hear her, but her gestures spoke louder than her words could. Those two were so damn good at pushing their women’s buttons. And well, other things, but now is not the time to give space to recount such actions or deeds. You filthy pervert.

A new day was dawning on San Francisco. The sun seemed off a bit, almost, as if heavy with doubt as the rest of the people were. Everything moved slower and people were quieter. A fear was slowly forming, whether people wanted to admit it or not. A pregnant pause waited to give birth to madness above them. They just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could they, whomever ‘they’ were causing all of this.

It was going to be a very, very long day for the lot of them.


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The Hall of Heroes | Atma's Writing Dump

December 2016

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