Dragon Ball Z Uncensored

[Action Hank]

THE RETURN OF THE ILLUSIONIST

CAST OF CHARACTERS:

MAIN CHARACTERS:

The ILLUSIONIST:

Victor Powers, Jr. Our clueless hero. Somehow survived spending several years trapped in a car possessed by the soul of Rodney Dangerfield and a dead DILETTANTE. Currently Caligula Lightning's first champion. Is trying to find his father, who is somewhere within the Lightning Empire!

Mr. Sinistar:

Old magician and head of the Magic Association Guild of Illusionists and Caterers (MAGIC, or the GUILD). Only surviving member of its Supreme Highest Secret Part. Hates the ILLUSIONIST, and wants him dead. But first, he must discover how Vic has somehow acquired some of the LOST MAGIC that will give Sinistar ULTIMATE POWER!

JAZZ FANTASTIC:

The mysterious and JAZZ-powered ex-bodyguard of Mr. Sinistar. To what the full extent of his powers and motives are, we do not yet know! Is currently teamed with the ILLUSIONIST and searching for the even more mysterious Bebop Shogun.

THE DILETTANTE'S FUCKING SKULL:

The skull of the dead DILETTANTE that the ILLUSIONIST carries around and talks to. Is just a fucking skull.

Kimchi:
The ILLUSIONIST's hispanic/asian servant. Is also a skilled knife fighter.

----------------------------------------------------------------

The Story So Far:

After having returned from a three year hiatus, escaped Mr. Sinistar into the wastes of America, and teamed up with JAZZ FANTASTIC, Vic has won Abhorrent Anathema and become Caligula Lightning's champion. What adventures await our hero?

----------------------------------------------------------------

Memphis. The edge of town. A young, lanky black man is sitting with his head in hands on a stoop outside a run-down dive called "The Limp Wrist". A brass saxophone sits by his feet. A split reed rests between his lips. From inside comes the sound of a trio playing "All of Me". They aren't any good.

"That wasn't too bad, kid," a gruff, deep voice says. "Rough and stiff at times. You gotta learn to loosen up. You can't let the music control you."

The kid looks up, but the man's face is obscured by a halo of a yellow street light. The kid squints and looks down at the man's feet. He's wearing wooden sandals.

"But you also shouldn't control the music. Music is like a river. Musicians are but boats on the water. We can only control our direction. But a good musician knows when to ride the current, when to fight it, and when to do nothing at all. Here, you'll need this."

A small plastic case containing a fresh reed lands next to the kid. The man climbs up the stairs of the stoop, his sandals clopping on the wood. Then he opens the door and enters. The kid spits out his split reed and pulls out the new one. There is something inscribed on it.

From inside, a saxophone joins the trio. It's like a shaped diamond among unpolished stones. Like a rose among dandelions. The trio grows quiet as the saxophone playing continues. At first it moves smoothly, like changing tide of a small pond. But then it grows more wild, ecstatic, violent, like white water crashing and breaking apart rock. People begin to hoot and holler. They intensify. They're shouting and screaming in ecstasy. No, not ecstasy. Pain. Their cries are their last cries, and soon its silent.

The kid slowly stands. His legs wobble as the door to "The Limp Wrist" opens and the man in the wooden sandals steps out.

"Jazz is like a river, kid," the man says. He steps by the kid and down into the dusty street. "Always remember that."

The kid can only nod. As soon as the man is gone, he rushes into the club. The floor is an inch deep in blood. He drops his brass saxophone and steps backwards out the door.

In the yellow light of the street lamp he looks at the inscription on the reed again. "Bebop Shogun," it reads.

It would be five years before the kid, Jazz Fantastic, crossed paths with the sandal-wearing musician again.

------------CHAPTER THREE: ILLUSIONS of things past--------------

JAZZ FANTASTIC watches from the corner of the arena as THE ILLUSIONIST is proclaimed winner of Abhorrent Anathema. He lights a fresh cigarette and pushes his sunglasses up his nose. Yet his attention is not on the battles nor the piles of blood being spilled before him. Instead he's carefully looking over the audience. Looking for that man. The Bebop Shogun.

Suddenly an partially dismembered audience member is flung backwards and lands next to JAZZ.

"Hello, Jazz," a raspy voice says from the open mouth of the dead audience member. JAZZ sucks in his cigarette, holds it a moment, then releases.

"Ventriloquistador," JAZZ says. "So the old man sent you to ruffle my feathers."

"Sinistar isn't fond of traitors. You remember the Magical Dandy."

"That cat wasn't hip. He just wanted the bread."

"And what about you?"

"It was just a gig. I ain't in no GUILD. Now I'm on to cooler things, dig?" He nods towards the ILLUSIONIST, who is attempting to do a ring trick for Caligula, but somehow manages to trap his hands in the ring. Nervously he attempts to pull the rings off, but only manages to decapitate a dove that was hiding up his sleeve. The dove's head drops to the ground. Caligula watches and laughs.

"Oh, we 'dig' alright." The Ventriloquistador's voice sounds pained. "That idiot can't even do a trick an 8-year-old kid could do. Now he's a champion, which means he'll be all the more difficult to get to and kill."

"I need that cat alive," JAZZ says. "I got more important things to do than be the old man's Satchmo."

"Still chasing after the 'Bebop Shogun' I see. Stop wasting your time. Sinistar is still willing to forgive you if you off Vic. We'll give you one more chance. Do it tonight, or the rest of the Sinistars will put on a 'performance'."

"Jive," JAZZ says. "Buzz off, square."

The dead body laughs a bit, and then the voice is gone.

"Shiiiit," JAZZ says, putting out his cigarette. "It ain't ever easy."

Meanwhile the ILLUSIONIST has managed to somehow also lock up one of feet into the rings, and is partially hogtied. Caligula laughs so hard that a partially digested baby shoots out of his nose.

[Magic Juan]

I hope to use positive feedback here to signify that this is a good promo.

[Action Hank]

Caligula Lightning thrusts out his bulging stomach, knocking the ILLUSIONIST onto his back. They are standing outside Caligula's palace at the Slave Dungeon. Here packs of men and women are driven into corrals by powerful goons, fitted and chained, and placed on pedestals to be sold to the highest bidders. These are the lucky ones.

Caligula's men stand guard, forcing onlookers down to their knees as their emperor's mass walks by.

The ILLUSIONIST stands up and wipes the dirt off his pants. There is a Scooby Doo band-aid over his upper lip. A drunken back-alley doctor had patched him up with a rusty box cutter (which he claimed was from Bin Destruction) and dental floss.

"As my champion, you are entitled to servants," Caligula says. He's holding a massive cow leg and eating it like a drumstick. "Choose little man. There is a fresh batch of slaves from the shitstains of the east that have arrived only this morning."

The ILLUSIONIST, not entirely sure what's going on, steps forward. In front of him are presented a dozen half-naked dirty men and women, shackled together and being periodically whipped (just for the hell of it). Suddenly, he recognizes one of them.

"Have I seen you before?" he says, pointing towards a weaselly Asian-looking man. He could also be some sort of Hispanic blend.

"SPEAK!" a slave master shouts, whipping the man. In fact, the Slave Master's hands have been mutated from the wastelands into whips. A lucky break! "SPEAK WHEN YER CHAMPION SPEAKS TO YOU!"

"Yes," the man says. "We met in the Kingdom of Bonefucker."

Caligula crunches down on the bones of the cow leg, having fully devoured all the meat. He sucks at the marrow, a disgusting slurping sound that causes one of the slave women to faint.

"Worthless cunt," the Emperor says, spitting out splinters of bone as he speaks. He reaches out and tears the woman off of her chains. He opens his mouth and bites down on her head, popping it off and spitting it onto the ground. He then proceeds to stick his massive dick into the gaping hole in her neck but its so long that the head pops out of her vagina. "I don't have all day," he says. He's not even paying attention as he fucks the woman's entire body.

"What's your name?" the ILLUSIONIST asks.

The Slave Master whips the Latino-Asian.

"ANSWER YOUR CHAMPION!" he shouts.

"My name is Roberto Chen. But people call me Kimchi."

The woman's body explodes into a puddle of guts and semen.

"Okay, let's go," Caligula says. Several servants rush forward to wipe his dick off. He smacks them with his dick as he turns.

"Wash this Kimchi up and send him to our Champion's quarters," the Slave Master says, whipping him once more for good measure.

-------

It was on that day that I became the humble servant of the ILLUSIONIST. It would be the beginning of my new life, of an incredible journey in the times of high adventure and goons.

[Rice]

I won't pretend that I read your promo but those pictures sure made me lol!

[Rice]

And Jazz Fantastic is a good name.

[Action Hank]

It all begins with a knock on the door of the ILLUSIONIST's complimentary hut. Vic is taking a bubble bath, and JAZZ FANTASTIC is too busy standing in a corner smoking a joint, so Kimchi goes to see who it is. He opens the door, but sees no one. He reaches down his leg and pulls out a large bowie knife and carefully eyes the assorted loitering goons. Then he hears a groan coming from the door's backside. He pulls it shut and sees that a goon has been nailed to it.

"오하이오 성교!" Kimchi shouts. "¿Cuál el infierno es éste?"

The goon, blood spurting out from the nails in his arms and legs, speaks.

"I hereby announce the matches of the gladitorial combat event titled Slaughter Serenade: A Sanguine Symphony of Melodious Maiming..."

Kimchi listens carefully to the announcement and then goes back into the hut.

"Who was it?" Vic asks. He's in his bathtub, playing with the DILETTANTE'S FUCKING SKULL like it was a rubber duckie.

The ILLUSIONIST's faithful servant recounts the announcement.

"Oh my!" Vic shouts, and the skull pops out of his hand into the air. JAZZ catches it without even moving from his spot. "Another fight?"

Then there's another knock at the door. Kimchi opens it and finds a second goon nailed ontop of the first.

"More?"

"By order of his Holiness, Emperor Caligula Lightning, this house is to be vacated immediatley in preperation for Slaughter Serenade----"

"배설물!!"

Kimchi rushes back into the hut.

"What is it?" the ILLUSIONIST asks, leaping up from his bath, surprised by his servant. Although covered in bubbles, its clear that Vic is wearing his lycra tuxedo in the bath.

"We've been evicted!" Kimchi says, dropping to his knees.

"What?!?!" Vic shouts.

"YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES TO COMPLY, OR FACE EXTREME PUNISHMENT!" the goon announcement shouts from outside the door.

"Guess its time to split this joint," JAZZ says. He tosses the skull back to Vic, who bobbles it before dropping it into the tub.

"I guess so. Let's try to find my father. Kimchi, pack everything up!"

"Uh, we don't really have anything to pack."

Vic steps out of the tub and dries off with a towel.

"Well, pack up the DILETTANTE then," Vic says, looking over at the tub. The water is brown from dirt and blood and piss (that had dried to the ILLUSIONIST's lycra). Kimchi nods, halfheartedly, and rolls up his sleeves.

"No time to roll your sleeve, my good man!" Vic says, optimistically. "Just grab him and lets go! Onward, to ADVENTURE!!!"

[Action Hank]

New Years Eve, 1999, at the Blue Note in New York City. There were ten minutes to midnight, but everyone's attention was fixed on the quartet burning up the stage. On drums was "Bloody Knuckles" Jones, pounding away like each other note like a thunderclap or a raindrop. On bass was "Ain't Afraid of No Ghosts" Morales, stiring the rhythm like a master chef. The organist, John Bishop, pushed notes to the crowd like he was speaking the word of God. And on a silver saxophone, no longer a lanky boy, was JAZZ FANTASTIC.

The FANTASTIC FOUR tore the place up. Each set outdoing the next. Another band was supposed to be playing, but the Fantastic Four were deep into their tenth encore, with no sign of slowing down. And frankly, the other band had lost their confidence to follow such an act.

JAZZ blared, pumping pure soul of his horn. The melody frantically raced against the rhythm, and it all came crashing together in a frenzy.

"WOOOO!" the audience shouted. "KEEP IT GOING!" they cried.

Sweat drenched the musicians. This was their big break. JAZZ thought long and hard about all the shit he had gone through to get to this moment. Five terrible years filled with the nightmares of that monster in Memphis. He had overcome them. In fact, he was using the same reed that the Bebop Shogun had given him, to empower himself against that tragedy.

And the five years of practicing, of hard work, of struggling was finally paying off. In the audience, the president of Blue Note records (no relation to the club) watched on, eagerly awaiting the next set break so that he could sign the band to a multi-record label. The FANTASTIC FOUR were going to revitalize jazz. They were going to make it significant again!

Then the door opened, and giant figure of a man wearing wooden sandals stepped into the Blue Note jazz club.

-------------------------------

JAZZ rubs his joint out on the sole of his shoe, and saves the roach for later. The three men and a skull are wandering down the wretched streets of the city. It has been several hours since they had begun their search for Vic's father, and JAZZ was carefully eyeing out for memebers of the Sinistars. He hadn't told Vic of their meeting. He had his reasons not to.

He may still have to kill him.

"Kimchi!" Vic shouts, adjusting his top hat. "Please politely inquire those gentlemen over there about the whereabout of my father, Victor Powers."

The ILLUSIONIST points over to a group of goons busily taking turns raping a young girl and boy.

"Uh, but---" Kimchi starts, pointing at the raping.

"No buts!" Vic says, grinning. "We are on an adventure, my fair servant! We do not have time to dally!"

Kimchi's mouth drops. He nods, rolls his eyes, and walks over to the cluster of goons. One of them has an axe embedded into his arm. Another one has an axe embedded into his dick. It is the fabled AXE GOON GANG!

"He must be around here, somewhere, partner." Vic says to JAZZ. JAZZ just nods. "Popeye told me he was alive and here. I know it must be true. My father was always so cunning."

Kimchi, meanwhile, is interupting the goons. They don't seem very happy.

"Why, back in Altantic City, he was the best grifter there was! I could never live up to him, though. A tragic story, really. My younger brother, Maxwell---he was something else. He could run the cards and play the mark like my dad. I was a complete failure. Me, his namesake. That is why I am now a master magician instead!" He rubs a tear from his eye, and a dove flies out of his sleeve and into an exhaust fan above.

Kimchi, meanwhile, is dodging punches and slices from the Axe Goon Gang. He has pulled out two knives and is deftly blocking. One of the goons loses an arm.

"That's why I must find my father. I have to show him all the things I have accomplished. At last, he will be so proud of me!"

Kimchi rolls between the largest of goons, whose axe dick is still dangling from his pants. Kimchi slices it off and kicks it up, impaling it in the goon's stomach.

"Sure thing, cat," JAZZ says. He bites on his thumbnail and spits it out the side of his mouth.

Kimchi stands, panting, covered in the blood of the Axe Goon Gang. The young girl and boy crying tears of joy, and hugging their hero. Their mother and father come running out to thank Kimchi. The ILLUSIONIST looks over.

"Kimchi, stop fraternizing with the locals! We haven't time for that! Let's get going!"

[Action Hank]

As the trio walk down the street, they pass a poster nailed to the wall (with dicks). The ILLUSIONIST doesn’t even notice it until Kimchi pulls at his sleeve.

“Master, master, look!” he points at the poster. “Your opponents next week at Slaughter Serenade!”

Low and behold, the poster was of the Reverend Zeebo Sykes and the nefarious Uncle Slam across from a crudely drawn image of Vic and JAZZ.

“What a nefarious duo,” the ILLUSIONIST says, rubbing his band-aid. “Why, I have the same hat as that fellow,” he points to the image of himself. “But they look weak. I will win them over with my act, and JAZZ will soothe their savage souls with his dulcet tones.”

JAZZ winces.

“No, my lord,” Kimchi says, pushing Vic’s finger so that it points at Sykes and Slam. “These are your opponents.”

“DEAR LORD!” Vic shouts, jumping into the air. “Such monsters!”

“Oh, don’t worry, master,” Kimchi says. “Your skills are far greater than those two. You’ve already won Abhorrent Anathema, you are sure to be victorious at Slaughter Serenade.”

Vic ponders this for a moment.

“I guess so, though I don’t remember how I won. I haven’t been feeling myself, dear Kimchi, since----since---”

“You WILL succeed!” Kimchi says, his eyes shinning in awe. “You gave all us slaves such hope as we watched you defeat those terrible warriors. You surely will bring peace to this country, as you did to the Kingdom of Bonefucker.”

JAZZ snorts.

The ILLUSIONIST pulls the DILLETANTE’S FUCKING SKULL out of a bowling ball bag. He rubs it a moment.

“Let’s carry on, gentlemen. But first…”

The three continue walking, leaving behind the poster. However fake mustaches and beards and devils horns and all sorts of terrible things were drawn onto the pictures of the Reverend and Slam, including a penis squirting into Zeebo’s eye.

[Action Hank]

A man sits on a stool, on top of a hill overlooking the city. Squinting, he watches three men wander through the streets as they periodically stop to talk to the other specks that litter the city. The man lifts a mug of tea to his lips and sips. He grins as a yellowish speck closes in on the three men.

Down in the city, a 12-year-old girl in blonde pigtails approaches the ILLUSIONIST, JAZZ FANTASTIC, and their humble servant, Kimchi. She's dressed in a schoolgirl's uniform and carrying a few school books. Several goons look on, their brains and crotches firing rape signals. She stops a few feet in front of Vic and curtsies.

JAZZ grasps the strap of his sax tightly. Kimchi picks up on the musician's nerves and slowly reaches down for a knife.

"Why, what a pretty girl you are," the ILLUSIONIST says, removing his hat and bowing back, revealing the beginnings of a bald spot.

As she rises, its clear to everyone, but Vic, that this is not a girl. Not a girl at all. The creases and lines on her face show age. And moreso---she might not even be a she.

"Oh Mr. ILLUSIONIST," she/he says. But the voice is unnaturally high. "I am such a fan!"

"Then flowers for the pretty girl," Vic says, and reaches into his hat. He digs around a bit.

"I'd love to have your autograph. In fact, I'd do anything to have it. I'd even...KILL...to have it."

Vic is having trouble finding the flowers. He pulls out a rabbit and some coins.

"I know I have some flowers here somewhere."

S/he rushes forward, tossing his/her's books outward like shuriken. Kimchi acts fast, leaping across the path of the books and parrying the attack with his knives, sending them right back at the The Castrati Contortionist! The Contortionist ducks by bending backwards into a crab and, staying in that position, leaps forward.

JAZZ slaps the Contortionist down with his sax case.

"You're no fun," the Castrati Contortionist says, rolling over into a pretzel shape, and using momentum leaps backwards into the air, landing on a goon. The Contortionist wraps his and arms around the goon, and squeezes tightly, slicing the goon to bits.

"No, no, no," Vic says, still digging through his hat. He's now leaned against the wall with a small pile of animals, coins, and rings near his feet.

JAZZ pops the case open, ready to retrieve his sax when the Contortionist hisses, and rolls away back into the shadows.

"Oh, I'm an idiot!" the ILLUSIONIST says. "They're not in my hat!" He flicks out his sleeves and flowers spew out onto the ground, half-eaten by rabbits. "Ta-da!"

But the Contortionist is gone.

"Oh well," he says, picking up his stuff and stuffing it back into his hat. "I guess she had to go."

JAZZ nods and locks his case. Kimchi wipes some dirt of his pants. Vic reaches down and picks up the flowers. Suddenly there is a whizzing noise! Kimchi REACHES OUT AND CATCHES A KNIFE, BY THE HANDLE, WITH HIS BARE HANDS. There is another whizzing noise. HE DEFTLY CATCHES ONE KNIFE AFTER ANOTHER UNTIL THERE ARE A HALF-DOZEN in his possession.

"What the---" he starts, looking around. But there is no sign.

"Let's get off these streets, cats," JAZZ says.

"Yes, my good man," Vic says, stuffing the flowers back into his sleeves. There is a yip sound as he stabs a rabbit in the butthole. "I am getting very hungry! And we should find an inn for the night."

"Yes, let's find some digs to crash," JAZZ says, eying the streets cautiously.

Two miles away, up on the hill, the man kicks at the dirt with his iron boot. He lifts a satellite phone to his ear and speaks.

"We hath failed," he says. There is a scampering sound to his right as the Contortionist scuttles up the hill and into the camp.

"FAILED!?" Sinistar's voice shouts.

"The Embarrassment hath assistance, Mr. Sinistar. The knight JAZZ and some barbarian warrior. We lacked in proper preparation."

"WELL, YOU BETTER NOT FAIL ME AGAIN, DOUBLE-K," Sinistar shouts. The Knife-throwing Knight is forced to pull the phone away from his ear.

"We shall not," he says. Sinistar hangs up.

"What do we do now?" the Contortionist asks, undoing his pigtails.

"We shall wait for our fellows," the Knight answers, stepping towards the Contortionist as the Castrati lets his hair blow in the wind. "My lady, thou art fairer than the fairest moon," he says, and takes the Contortionist into his armored arms.

[Vinny]

I like these promos.

[Vinny]

Also, what the hell was Lex's finisher? I assume you don't remember what it was but I think it was this SUBMISSION MOVE where you lasso'd the guy's neck. And you say he's from Santa Fe, New Mexico on the wiki but he's announced at a PPV as being from GREEN RIVER, Wyoming.

[Vinny]

Nevermind, I found it. The Jewel of Denile.

Actually, got the ROSETTA STUN, too. Which one was the finisher?

[Mautty]

Im from Santa Fe, New Mexico

[Action Hank]

I don't have any of his promos anymore, so I just made some shit up. Whatever you have is right!

[Action Hank]

"This looks like a fine place to spend the night!" The ILLUSIONIST says, pointing to a blood-splattered sign to the BLOODY STOOL INN & PUB. Suddenly a window explodes as two battling goons fall out into the street and crush an old man holding a baby. They continue fighting and break through another window back into the Bloody Stool.

"Maybe we should stay at the Super Friendly Happy Peaceful Brothel and Kitten House?" Kimchi says, pointing down the street to the brightly painted building were several beautiful women stand outside, surrounded by cute kittens and sweet and relaxing music.

"Gawafff!" Vic says, swatting his hand effeminately. "The Bloody Stool sounds like a wonderful establishment. Most likely British, 'gov-ah-nah' and as we all know, the British are very sophisticated. Perhaps they'll throw some 'shrimp on the bar-bee.'"

Kimchi slaps his forehead as they walk to the door, which is a piece of black iron studded with blood and core-covered spikes. JAZZ simply nods.

The inside of the inn smells like week old pee, which the floor is coated in. Goons are busily smashing the shit out of each other while also fucking the dirtiest 80-year-old whores west of the Mississippi. A big, burly looking man with an eye-patch is working behind the bar.

"I like the cut of this guy's jib," Vic says, elbowing JAZZ. "A man who's seen the world."

"Half of it, at least," Kimchi says, as they sit down at the end of the bar.

"What kin' I git 'cha?" the Innkeeper says, spitting into a glass and then rubbing the spit with a blood-stained rag.

"My business associate and my servant are looking for a room," Vic says.

"Ha!" the Innkeeper says. He spits again.

"And we're also looking for a man. Do you know a Victor Powers?"

The Inkeeper rubs his greasy chin.

"Victor Powers? No, no. Sorry. But---I does know a Maxwell Powers, I does. E' comes by from time ta time. Big, strong-looking feller."

Vic's eyes open wide. "Does---does he have a mustache and a big scar on his chin?" JAZZ lowers his sunglasses just a bit.

"Yep, that be Maxwell Powers. The finest mustache in all these cursed lands," the Inkeeper pauses to smash a bottle over the head of a goon who attempts to reach behind the bar for some whiskey. "Rich and elegant, that mustache be. Finer even 'den the Baron's!"

"Can you tell me where I can find him?" The ILLUSIONIST says, anxiously.

"He's gone fer a few days. Some business or other in Jew York City."

Vic relaxes in disappointment. JAZZ raises his sunglasses again and lights up a cigarette, then turns with his back to the bar, eying various fights. Kimchi has somehow gotten into a game of liar's dice during the conversation. The Inkeeper walks away to pour some drinks.

"Well, at least I know my brother is here," Vic says. "But we have some time to kill."

"We got that Slaughter Serenade gig comin' up," JAZZ says in gobs of smoke. "But I think we got other problems, cat." He nods over to Kimchi, who isn't very good at Liar's Dice. "We're low on bread."

"The curse of the performer!" Vic says. "Always living day to day, never knowing when you'll get your next hot meal. That's why I've been thinking, JAZZ, my friend, that we should put our talents to good use. Let's see, we already have our music in your fine skills. And we have Kimchi to help with the grunt work. All we need now, is a beautiful assistant to assist me in my spectacular feats of illusions and magic."

JAZZ doesn't even notice. Kimchi neither. Of course, Vic would never have noticed---

A stunningly beautiful woman approaches the bar. For some reason, despite being very hot, none of the goons seem to notice she's there, or else they'd rape each other trying to rape her. She winks at JAZZ.

"Oh shiiit," the musician says. "Not---"

"Hey there, tiger," she says to Vic, her voice almost hypnotic. "That's quite a handsome Scooby Doo band-aid."

JAZZ grips at his black sax case. It's The Hypnotits!!

[Action Hank]

JAZZ doesn't notice the man standing in the back, face hidden by shadows. He is deep in his solo. He's giving it his all. All energy flowing into the music. And then the man steps forward, and the sound of the wooden sandal tapping on the hard word floor somehow disrupts JAZZ. He opens one eye and sees the Bebop Shogun, a case as black as midnight in hand, sit down at a table. And JAZZ loses the flow.

The audience reacts, jerked out of their rush as if they'd fallen into cold water. Sweat begins to pour down JAZZ's forehead, he rubs it and tries to continue. Tries to find that flow, but he's lost it. He's lost it and Moanin' is running scared and wild. He tries to regain composure, but a ton of weight sits on his chest and the air just won't come out.

He feels the shadow grow closer, and time slows. The Bebop Shogun stands and his sax case drops and opens, a golden saxophone rising into the air and into his hands. The Shogun plays one note. It blasts right into JAZZ, shaking him.

"No, no, no," JAZZ says to himself. "I can do this. I can." He musters strength and plays a note back.

A grin forms at the edge of the Shogun's lips and blows again. This time two notes. JAZZ is able to hold himself steady this time, and he responds. He has to. It comes from his belly. More so, from some part buried below that he'd never felt before. He can almost see the music swirl out and through the crowd.

The Shogun grunts and plays five notes. JAZZ responds. The Bebop Shogun calls, JAZZ FANTASTIC responds. Back and forth. Building up. Onlookers watch in amazement. The band is silent, eyes glued to the action, mouths hanging, ears drinking.

What they did not know was that by the end of the night, almost everyone would be dead.

-----------------------------

"Why....ugh....hello," the ILLUSIONIST says, his eyes drawn to the Hypnotits' large bust. He yanks at his collar.

"Wanna buy me a drink, handsome?" she says, the words slide off her tongue and wrap Vic up in a bear hug.

"Ugh...why.....sure," he says.

JAZZ loosens the lock on his case. The Hypnotits lowers her hand over JAZZ's and smiles.

"There'll be no need for that," she says. Her eyes dance. JAZZ nods and lets go of the lock. "That's a good boy."

"KIMCHI!" Vic shouts to his servant. "COME HERE!"

Kimchi steps away from the game and timidly walks over to his master. Vic takes his aside. "I am in need of some money. This lady is of a high calibur, and deserves at least a drink with a small umbrella in it."

Kimchi swallows hard.

"We're out of money," he says, and to prove it, he turns his empty pockets inside out.

"Oh dear! How are we to buy this woman a drink?"

He turns back to the Hypnotist, who is smiling and crossing and uncrossing her legs. JAZZ sits quietly. Vic eyes the saxophone.

"Of course!" he says, and calls for the inkeeper. Several minutes later, a deal is struck. The Bloody Stool had a new house act: the Musical Stylings of JAZZ FANTASTIC and the Mysterious Amazements of the ILLUSIONIST!

The Hypnotits watches and waits. At midnight, the final member of the Sinistars would arrive. Tonight would be the first and only night of JAZZ and Vic's performance, that she was certain.

[Mautty]

You promo way too fucking much.

[Spamdini]

He has to keep up with the best. Besides, Ace has really hit his stride lately!

[Action Hank]

JAZZ takes the stage (the left corner of the room). Bottles, knives, and sticks of TNT fly at him from the drunk and rowdy crowd. But he remains calm. He slowly opens the case to Birth of the Cool, and puts the horn together. He wets the reed with his spit and tightens it into place.

It's been awhile, he thinks. An actual gig. A bottle whizzes by and shatters against the wall close to his face.

He puts the horn against his lips. He breathes in slowly. Then JAZZ plays an arpeggio or two to warm up and then instantly breaks into Pennies from Heaven. The audience calms down. His fingers move hitting every note. His air control is perfect. Everything is perfect. Yet there is a controlled frenzy waiting around the edge of each note. Waiting.

As the music plays, goons suddenly pull money out of their pockets and throw them towards the musician. Although his eyes are closed behind his shades, he deftly dodges falling coins and pieces of stolen jewelery.

Hypnotits watches. Vic hands her a glass filled with some watered-down blue drink. Although there are no little umbrellas, he's had Kimchi make one out of tissue, toothpicks, and an unknown adhesive. She doesn't pay attention, and Vic pouts.

"JAZZ," she thinks out loud. "We're so much alike. A shame I'll have to kill you."

"He's a hack," a gruff voice says to her right. A man dressed in a trenchcoat and a fedora so that he appears only as shadows beneath his clothes sits down on a stool. The goon that had been sitting there sits twisted like a pretzel, neck snapped, wrapped in chains and locks. "I can't believe Sinistar ever invited him to join the Stars."

"Es, now you sound jealous," she says.

The man laughs.

"Hello sir," Vic says, putting out his hand towards the man. "Are you a friend of this lovely lady? I am Vic Powers, the ILLUSIONIST."

The man doesn't offer an arm. In fact, his arms aren't in his sleaves at all.

Vic doesn't retract his arm. A few cards fall out. Then a few more. Then a whole deck. Then a rabbit. Then more cards.

"Ummm," the ILLUSIONIST says. More cards fall out. "Some help, Kimchi! You were supposed to lock the clasp."

His servant gets down and starts collecting the cards as they continue to fall on his head.

"I told you it was broken!" Kimchi says. Some rabbit shit falls out and hits him in the eye.

Vic still doesn't retract his arm. The man watches it. Then---

"ENOUGH!" His jacket and hat fly into the air. He's completely wrapped in chains, bandages, locks, and belts. "I AM THE RAPIST ESCAPIST! AND I'M GOING TO---"

There's a strange clicking noise from within the ILLUSIONIST's sleeve, and FLAMES COME SHOOTING OUT! The escapist is covered in flames. He flails around, screaming in agony.

"Whoops," Vic says. "I thought we fixed that."

"I forgot to mention," Kimchi says, wiping away the shit. "That fire thingy is a bit too sensitive. One of the birds got to it."

The Escapist rolls around the ground, goons kick the flaming man back and forth. Somehow he's hoisted into the air and passed around like a beach ball at a concert. JAZZ continues to play, this time Favorite Things. A lot of naked women and guns are tossed up at the stage.

The Hypnotist rises from her seat. "ES!" she shouts. The crowd drops the pile of fire and steps away from it. JAZZ stops playing. Everyone watches as the last of the flames dies down---REVEALING AN EMPTY SMOKING PILE!

Two chains fly through the air towards the ILLUSIONIST! Suddenly Kimchi leaps into the path, and despite the quick movement of his knives, is caught! The chains wrap around his throat and stomach and drag him violently down to the ground.

The Escapist leaps from the rafters, dressed in sparkling silver lycra. Vic watches, mouth open.

"So beautiful!" Vic says as the Escapist lands next to Hypnotits.

"Victor Powers, Jr" she says. "When I snap my fingers, you won't be waking up."

"You're trapped," the Escapist adds. "You cannot escape...DEATH!"

[Big Fagot]

I just read this for the first time and, haha, Cual el infierno.