USS Nitro An ongoing AAA Interlude. By David Gonterman Assisted by Alicia Ashby Warning: This is *intended* to be a Self-Insertion Fic. Part 1: "Dust in the Wind" ______________________________________ It's amazing how quiet being in a Satellite is. Especially when you're the only person in it. Good thing this place has an internet radio, or I'd lose my mind. Or whatever hold I have on my mind already. I wonder if I've lost it among the yanked wires, unscrewed cables and removed parts. Most of them will have to either be recycled or blown out the air lock. Oh, I forgot to tell you. I'm David Gonterman. Davey-kins to my friends. Yeah, *that* David Gonterman. The writer of all those stories with that damned cyberfox in it. Currently working on Sailor Moon USA and the FoxFire strip. Well, that's what I'm supposed to be doing. Not lying in spread-eagle weightlessness in a metal crate orbiting the earth, with electronic junk floating around. All alone, may I add. Without even those 'bots you find on the Sci-Fi channel. And I keep asking myself one question... Just what the flying phrack happened? Last sane moment I can remember, I was sitting in my usual place at Club Anipike. Not the *real* one, mind you... the drive there's a real bitch... but a franchise they have in my hometown, St. Louis. Kinda like Planet Hollywood or the Hard Rock Cafe, only dedicated to anime and fanfiction. I was drawing the usual strips and becoming the unspoken main attraction there, when it happened. Suddenly, I heard stuff breaking and being thrown around, and someone calling out my name. I knew I was one of the more dangerous (some would say infamous, but I have two words for them) men online, with my strong opinions and Rush-style conversations. Sure, I've pissed off a lot of people. I'd rather have that and be somebody on-line than try to please everyone and just end up another Mark with a computer connection. I didn't expect someone to actually want me dead. _________________________________________________ Vincent K. McMahon, owner of the WWF and Lynxara's replacement as co-promoter of the AAA, proved otherwise. I was doing a design for a Kronos 3:16 T-Shirt at the Anipike when the whole place suddenly turned into a battle zone! But what would you expect when 20 WWF Superstars barge in and start to rip the place open with their bare hands? And all of them were after one thing... "There he is!!" Mankind shrieked. "gEt HiM!" Kane added in his electronic growl. Rocky Maivia and Ken Shamrock were pointing outside the window. Dan Severn was knocking that window in. The rest were lunging at me from all directions for no good reason. This is something I didn't expect. But then again, who expects to get jumped by a bunch of professional wrestlers out of the blue? To be honest, I was more miffed then scared. If I ever wanted to live my life in constant fear, forever looking over my shoulder or around the corner, wary of whoever would be after me for whatever reason, I'd go back to middle school. Instead, I just leapt over the bar. There were two cards there I could play. One was a shotgun and pistol with a combat load each... hey, I don't have 24-inch pythons; I need to use *guns* in a fight like this... which the bartender gladly let me get. Apparently, the Club had been prepared for the day when someone would barge in and try to kill me. The other one was an escape hatch under the bar leading to an underground parking lot nearby. No one was quite sure why it was there, but I didn't ask at the moment. I took off with weapons ready, fearing the worst. Okay, maybe Dustin Runnels with a fully gassed up and hijackable car didn't provide my definition of 'worst.' Taking out Gangrel and his exposed fangs with a hit and run, however, proved closer. I hit I-70 in full tilt with 10 cars chasing me in tow, praying that the cops would show before I ended up in a crash, or worse if my pursuers caught up with me. It was around the time the fifth black and white whizzed by me without even as much as their lights blinking that I actually got to thinking. Who would have it in his heart to sic 25 'bullies' on an unsuspecting 'nerd' and somehow get everyone else to just turn their collective heads? To be honest, I wished I knew the answer to that question when I was still in the Public School System. Still, I reasoned it had to be someone with a lot of money, a big grudge, and waaaaay too much time on his hands. And then it finally connected. It finally dawned on me that it was only *WWF* Superstars going after me. No WCW, nWo, ECW, AWA, AAA, or any other fed's guys. I also remembered who just slid into the late Lynxara's spot... which, of course, got all of Team FoxFire riled up. Even Brisby hates McMahon. And what better way to keep a bunch of rebel, almost degenerate characters in line... than by getting control of the one thing they can't live without... their creator! However, I decided that if he wanted me... then he was gonna get me. Finding several more weapons in the back seat, my memory called up what I *did* know about Vinnie Mac's schemes. I hit a road block, finally... but it was going to let me pass (thank God). I took off east... to Greenwich, Connecticut and the Titan Tower. I even got some help when I pasted that block. I saw a black pickup drive by, and it tossed something into my lap. A map of the Titan Tower, a key pass, and 'DTA' written on an Interstate Map cover. I didn't have to guess that it was Austin who gave me the thumbs up in my Rear View. At least one WWF Superstar was on my side, even if he *was* a Rattlesnake. The enemy of my enemy is my friend... It didn't take me long fidgeting over the package to think up a plan, especially when I learned about a certain 'Satellite of Nitro.' I gave an evil grin to myself as I sped toward the horizon. I intended to taking this battle up with Vince himself over at Titan Tower. If he wanted me taken out, then I would just have to take him out with me. It would be even better if I did it to him first. With Vince's control over the goon squad gone, at the very least they would let me go home in peace. Maybe with some compensation for my trouble, as wishful thinking dictates. As I figured, it looked good. On paper. Unfortunately, someone else found out what my plan was, and fortified the tower with the regrouped goons. Fortunately, someone else joined in. Austin had none other than SON escapees Sting and Diamond Dallas Page with him. "RUN ON THROUGH," The Rattlesnake yelled out at me. "WE'LL COVER YER ASS!!" "Oh really?!" I replied, not knowing what he had in mind. "With what?" I found out when the Stinger took out his bat and made a Guile-style Sonic Boom with it. Diamond Dallas Page made his famous diamond hand sign and made a beam shoot through it. Both 'special moves' (though quite surprising to me... wrestlers with Avatar-like powers?!) managed to clear a path for me up to the front door. Oh, what the hell. If Vince wanted me that bad, I might as well go see him. I not only drove through several panes of glass, but up the stairs and through some hallways as well! Vince thought he was safe enough to mock me from behind a doorway, but I got out of the car and continued the chase, guns blazing and proving to the WWF Boss how I got my reputation of being a prospective postal employee. Of course I had sp much fun releasing my angst over his shenanigans with the Whiffer and Triple A that I didn't notice where I was going. I thought that portal he ducked into went to some top secret place where I could find something to blackmail Vince into leaving me alone. I didn't expect that portal lead to a space-going satellite set on a launching rocket with a track designed after the 'Superman: The Escape' roller coaster. I say that because of the track design: straight down a runway of 2-3 miles to pick up speed, and then it goes 90 degrees straight up at full thrust. I got a good look at that track and my heart jumped into my mouth; neither me nor Vince were trained for space travel!! Before the rockets fired, I managed to get into a standing position against a well secured box so that, on the up-turn, I wouldn't black out from the G-forces. Vince didn't think of that, which is why I saw him fall to the back of the rocket during the climb. The impact finished up what the blood going to his feet started. By the time the G-forces subsided and the Rocket broke away from the Earth's atmosphere, Vincent K. McMahon was out cold. ____________________________________________________ And for once, I thought I liked the WWF. It appears that Vincent here has surpassed all of my expectations. I knew he was the Bill Gates of Professional Wrestling, I just didn't know *how* good he was at it. Make a note, Davey-kins: Install Windows 98 to all of his computers, and tell Microsoft that he has pirated copies. I didn't have time to wonder why Vince would go at *me* and not Shinji, the only *real* Power that Is in the AAA. I needed to think fast, and think plot contrivances. I dived toward Vince's limp body, hoping he had something I needed on his person. I guessed right: A set of keys and a manual, both with the words, "Satellite of NITRO II" written on them. Thinking that's what this crate floating in space was supposed to be called, I pocketed them. I wanted to go for the Ginzuishou he had as well, but I heard him groan as he regained consciousness. I needed to act faster. By the time he was waking up, I had just chucked him into the Airlock. His mind snapped *wide* awake when I slammed the door behind him and slammed the 'release' button. In retrospect, I wished I could have seen his face. Your classic Kodak moment, seeing the owner of the WWF show utter horror. Seeing the door slide open to reveal nothing but a Big Blue Earth in outer space. The *vacuum* of outer space, may I add. I bet Vince crapped his pants. However, I didn't waste my time pondering. I still had work to do, and it concerned the items I snatched from Vince. The keys allowed me to get manual control over the satellite while the booklet contained blueprints and command circuits that I could easily disconnect. Of course, that was what I was intent on doing. I wasted no time in ripping apart panels and jury-rigging circuit boards. I was almost done when a light marked MADS began flashing. Hmmm, I wonder who's calling me? Heh, heh, heh. I checked to see if everything was in order before pressing it. "Vince," I said with a smile, "You look like shit." What can I say? After being sucked into outer space and then suffering a 50 mile freefall through the atmosphere, no doubt being singed quite a bit by re-entry, Vince really did look like what you find in a toilet. "I must admit, David Gonterman, you have surpassed all of my expectations. Kintobor told me you'd try some stunt like this, I just didn't expect you to actually pull it off. I bet Austin had a hand in it too, the..." That perked up my ears. I should've known *he* had a hand in *that*. "So *you* had Kintobor all along! I was wondering why he was still existing even when the AAA began. And that also explains why you have *me* exactly where I wanted *you*..." "You know as well as I do that Kintobor is still here because *you* never had the guts to destroy him, fanboy." I gave him the Stone Cold Salute. "That's *Mister* Fanboy to you, Jackass." Vince replied with a rather smug smirk, and mashed a button. Hard. Oh, sure, I reckon that if the signal that tagged the dish on this satellite's underside would've gotten anywhere near me, it would have hurt. However, by the way Vince was mashing the buttons on his machine with a very frustrated expression, it was clear something was amiss. "Excuse me, Vince? Is something wrong?" I tried to look concerned. "Something *wrong*?!" Vince turned to the camera angrily. "You should be screaming like you got your ass paddled again! That signal *should* have been sent directly into your mind. I spent top money for this machine!! More money than you'll ever have in your entire life! You should be reeling from experiencing 'Blood and Metal' in every possible . . ." Without emotion, I picked up a cord and showed it to him. "Parallel Cable in the crappiest quality China can put out. Cost: Five Bucks." He had the 'he *didn't*' look on his face, much like the one Mike Tenay had when he was first introduced to the AAA. "I yanked it from a receiver-like device of some kind. It wasn't an essential part of this ship, and it was taking too much room in a place I wanted to work in, so I just disconnected it. Thought I could use it for parts." "*DAMN* YOU!!" Vince punched a hole through a nearby wall with his fist. "Damn you straight to Hell!" "No thanks, Vince. Even if I *did* need help in getting there, they wouldn't let me in. Satan's scared stiff that I'll take over that place. Oh, that's Strike Two." "Strike *Two*? What was . . . " Vince realized it the moment he touched his jacket. "Ah, I see. The Nitro II plans." "And the keys too." I smiled like the cat with the canary in my mouth, as I showed the keys to him. "You should realize by now that you're not dealing with Steve Austin anymore. We Authors are notorious for twisting plots and playing God. Add that to a quick learning curve with new programs, coded Blueprint instructions, or even circuit boards, and tweaking this satellite was a piece of cake. Maybe you should go back to just running the WWF and tormenting those other guys. Stone Cold gives you *enough* crap, you don't need mine." This was where Vince got all indignant and conceited. "I wonder how far you *have* yanked my controls in such little time. I think you didn't do as much as your bloated ego would like to think, David Gonterman. You're not that smart. I doubt that you even had enough brains to get that college education. You are nothing but a disgruntled Little *Hulkster*..." "Make that a Stone Cold Mark, and you'll be more correct." Who *else* would put 3:16 after his name to title his rant page? Note that this does not apply to people named John. "You have no skills, no talent, no friends, and no possible means to have anything even resembling a decent life. Hell, you don't even know if you want to do prose or a script! And you think you can possibly find a way out of that Satellite, you worthless piece of shit?! I spent a *phenomenal* amount of money to make it, and just so you'd have a nice, isolated orbiting hell. Prepare to suffer." He spun around to get something, and I did the behind-the-back technique. "Oh, and I want my groceries bagged in paper, please." It was obvious from the groans Vince was emitting that I had delivered a low blow, just as I hoped for. He returned to the camera with a dish and his smile. Only this time, he looked almost devilish with that evil grin. I faked hurt. "Oh, don't tell me, you got SMAK in there." "Not *just* SMAK, Gonter-boy," Vince exclaimed. "The MiSTing of that very story!" His eyes were practically glowing with evil. "The file that you got more flames than even *you* could even stand. This is the totality of your hatred, racism, and intolerance, and I WILL MAKE SURE YOU WILL RELIVE IT OVER AND OVER, LIKE THE SENTENCE IN HELL YOU DESERVE!! *And* I'll make sure it's broadcast on cable, so everyone will watch you suffer. I'm sure that nobody would give a damn about you, once they got past the 'giggling' phase." He shoved the disk in the control panel. "Prepare for SMAK sign, David... FOR ALL ETERNITY!!" The way he hit that big button with his fist seemed almost blissful. I just waited for Vince to calm down enough to realize that something wasn't right. He expected the Satellite to be reeling, all lights flashing, and that six-sectioned tunnel opening to lead me to my doom: watching my first attempts at storytelling over and over, especially ones where I was getting a lot of bad karma out of my system. He didn't expect the Satellite of Nitro to be as calm as the Enterprise when nobody's on it. "Awwwww, nice try, but as you can plainly see, that was the very first device I disconnected. However, considering your choice of stories, I'll give you a break. Foul Ball. Strike Two." The look on Vince's face was expected. I had outclassed him, and he didn't like it, one bit. It was something that could match what Robotnik expressed whenever he saw a certain blue hedgehog. I tried to look surprised. "You actually *hate* me? But I'm such a nice guy . . . ." By this time, screens behind him were going haywire. Alarms all over told him that the Satellite of Nitro II was moving away from it's geosynchronous spot over Titan Tower. Of course, that's because I was resting my elbow up against a joystick marked 'Manual Control.' " . . . However if you think you have another swing, either at me directly or at my characters by using me as a human shield, you can kiss it good-bye. Not only will I take your pretty little satellite, I could end up taking what's left of your hide." Vince thought that was funny. "Good one, David. Too bad you can't renew your prescription in outer space. Even *if* you managed to completely take over the Nitro II, there's no way you can swing back at me. There's no weapons on that ship." "Don't need any," I snickered, then moved toward the screen in a pose reminiscent of Q in the Star Trek: TNG pilot. "I've read the file on 'Sailor Moon vs the WWF', and I noticed that you've got something that belongs to Serena-chan." It was my turn to look devilish. "I think there's someone who wants to talk to you." On cue, the door was kicked... no, *blasted*... in. And a dark and foreboding figure strode into the room with steps sounding like the Bells of Doom. A figure resembling a robotlike cowboy with a cape-like trenchcoat. He had in one hand a sniveling Rocky Maivia, who was all but dissected. In his right, he had a gun with a metallic crescent moon attached to the barrel. Behind him, the remainder of the goons that attacked me were battered, bloodied, or worse. To his merit, Vince acted very business like. "Mr. Kronos. What can I do for you?" Star Mech wasn't the only one. DDP and then Sting entered the room. "And what is this?" Vince muttered. "A Satellite of Nitro alumni reunion?" "Aw hell no, Vince... it's a lot better than that." The last person to show up was, naturally, Stone Cold Steve Austin. He'd take any chance to swipe at Vince. "I believe you have something that don't belong to you, and Star Mech is here to collect it." My boy merely cracked his knuckles. "You have a choice, sir," I added. "You can hand it over to him, and you can walk outta here, or these gentlemen will probably rip that crystal out of your hand, and probably half of your body with it. Then Star Mech here can dust the rest. But either way, you are not leaving the room with that Ginzuishou." "You mean this?" Vince held up the white glowing crystal. "I know how to use it, you know..." "So do I!!" Growled Star Mech in his electronically altered voice, as he put his hands in front of him. His belt buckle opened with a ding-dong, and a *large* Ginzuishou floated into his hands. Vince's jaw dropped. Most of the wrestlers had the same reaction, even Austin. "Damn, son, what did you *do* to that crystal? Take it to Warrior University to absorb some Dilithium?" he asked. "There must be something about these Author Avatars, McMahon. They're packing more firepower than some countries' armies. Oh, and in case you wondering about why Kronos *is* here, there's something you obviously overlooked in SMUSA." Vince's eyes were wide, and staring right into that Ginzuishou like I would look at a wasp. "Don't tell me he's from the same Moon Kingdom as that brat Sailor Moon..." Steve Austin looked disappointed. So did I. "You shouldn't have said that, Vince. You have just dissed his daughter." Not to mention showing how little research he did. "WHAT?!" He definitely crapped it there. I could see the puddle. "You see, Kronos was the Moon *King* in the Silver Millennium. And he doesn't like anyone insulting family." The SON Alumni just gawked at each other. "He booped Queen Serenity?!" Sting asked a bit incredulously. "At least, that's what Shawn Michaels said," Page replied with a shrug. "Geez... I had no idea. That's one hell of an ego." "You got that right." But then Vince aimed the crystal toward Star Mech, which made everyone else jump. "Wait a minute!" Page interjected. "You're not thinking of using that thing at full blast, are you? Do you know what it would do?!" "You'll destroy this whole building... and everyone in it!" added the Stinger. "Not to mention everything else in a 50-mile radius!" Page exclaimed again. "Not to mention *yourself*!" Sting added. "Heck, even I've seen enough of that show to know that using the Silver Crystal is a death wish." McMahon tensed up, and the crystal began glowing more brightly with power. Either he didn't believe them, or didn't care... in any case, this situation was going to get ugly. For the moment, I was a bit glad that I wasn't on planet Earth. "DON'T BE AN IDIOT, JACKASS!!" Austin swore. "There's only two people on this planet that can use that crystal and live." He pointed to Star Mech. "THIS MAN IS ONE!! He can save our asses, but you... you'll be reduced to dust in the wind!!" That was the last thing I heard before the monitors went to white noise. It took me a moment to realize what had happened. I switched to a spy camera I found nearby and managed to zoom down to Titan Tower in time to see its demise. The floor where the fight was in went first, with glass and fireballs shattering all around the tower. Then the floors above and below it went, in turn, until it looked like it got blasted by the aliens from Independence Day. The similarities continued when the blast grew exponentially, devouring all of Greenwich, and then a good chunk of Connecticut in a matter of seconds. In time the ball of Pale White Lunar Fire was big enough to be seen from a window near me... damn. Hey, I've seen the Ginzuishou at work, just not in real life. And from what I saw, this was made by *two* of them. In fact, by the time I was thinking this, the fireball had enveloped all of the New England States!! Once again... damn. The environmental results were obvious. Hurricane Bonnie was shoved south, out of the South Carolina shoreline. The newsrooms in New York were in hysterics over what they feared were retaliatory strikes from Muslim Extremists. Bill Clinton was huddled in the White House fearing that someone up where I'm standing at has had too much of him. Florida got something extra in their amusement parks' fireworks shows, even the ones that didn't have them. The Appalachian Mountains kept the Midwest safe from the full brunt of the blast, but they saw a pretty kick-ass Aurora Borealis style light show that stretched up to the Rocky Mountains. I don't wanna know what Quebec was thinking. This, and I found out the place where I can stage my Fauna Force comic. Now if only Blue Line can deliver art supplies to outer space... That's when I saw it, a streak of light shooting out of the Lunar Fire Ball like a bat out of hell, in a southwesterly direction. I immediately surmised that streak to be Vinnie Mac, porting out of there. I didn't even have to check. *Never* expect your nemesis to be dead unless you yourself have checked the corpse and made sure, even if you have to kill him again. Nevertheless, I managed to get to the thrusters and get out of the air space of the East Coast. I didn't want to be over the head of a pissed off Star Mech. And I'm sure that Vincent K. McMahon wouldn't want to be on the same *planet* as Team FoxFire. ___________________________________________ This, incidentally, brings me up to now. I've just managed to fix the communications arrays (I accidentally damaged them earlier), and I'm at the moment talking to about the only person I can trust right now. "So, Shinji, this is how it goes. Until you commandeer a Space Shuttle or something to get me out, I'm stuck here on the Nitro II. Best make the most of it, I say. I've got enough spy toys attached to this crate to do some decent spying on Vinnie Mac. What I can find, I'll relay to you." "Thanks," the dude in the viewscreen replied to me. "I was afraid something like this would happen when I asked him to take Lynxara's place, but I didn't have a choice. And I definitely didn't count on him being *this* bad." "Nobody counted on him taking *me* out, though why me and not someone with more importance in the AAA, like you, I'll never know." Shinji smirked when he heard that. "It's Vince's usual mode of operation... he never attacks anyone when they have a chance of fighting back. He knew you couldn't pose a physical threat to him as long as he had his stolen Ginzuishou, unlike your Avatars. As long as he can't overpower me, I'm safe, even if it's only because he needs me to keep control of the AAA." Then he sighed, and said, "Christ, David, I'm sorry. Even when things got their worst, Jamie never even wanted you *dead*." "Tell me about it. Heck, Jamie's even buried the hatchet with me. By the way, I also got the broadcasting array set up. All you got to do is aim your feed to me, and I can broadcast it to infinity. Unless, of course, you do another show in Hell again." "Agreed. Personally, I think you'll be a big help in the coming months. I have the feeling the AAA is going to go *through* a lot of hell. Still, though, are you sure you don't want me to try to teleport you off? My powers have been a *little* iffy lately, but..." "No," I said emphatically. "I think there's something on this satellite designed to block teleports, and I haven't figured out how to disconnect it yet. It looks like it's built into the engine core. And with the Horde around," I moved to a viewer by my side, "I'd be surprised if you went through anything *other* than hell. . ." "What are you doing, Dave?" "Spare me your HAL impressions and just watch the show, Shinji." I switched to an exterior camera view. _______________________________________ The camera pod gave a good view of the satellite's metamorphosis. The large mid-section that must've housed the theater split down the spine, spreading out like wings. They revealed an elastic bag that expanded immensely, until it took the shape of a blimp, only ten times the combined size of the entire Goodyear fleet! This was perfect sized to fit the cabin where I was, which was as big as one of those blimps fully inflated... balloon and all. For mobility, thrusters sprouted out, two in back and one in front. And a pair of rotors slid out from underneath. Finally, lights flicked on automatically, lighting this Galaxy Class Goodyear Blimp like a second moon. At least it looked like one from the ground. "May God be with this vessel and all that are aboard her," I announced while popping the cork off a bottle of champagne. "I christen thee the USS Nitro II." Both of us lifted a toast... he had a good glass of the bubbly, too... in her honor. I merely took a swig from the bottle. It was not before we talked some more, mainly saying 'we know where to find each other', that I switched the control room to Sleep Mode. I just felt tired... okay, maybe a touch drunk too... and needed to take a nap. I have to say nap, because it's always 'nighttime' here in outer space. I was also worried about the low gravity on this Satellite; wouldn't want to wake up with something broken because I was bouncing around this spaceship. I decided just to lean back on the reclining Captain's Chair for a decent night's sleep. God, the Pay-Per-View will certainly be . . . interesting.