Dragon Ball Z Uncensored

[Ryoko's Biatch]

"Quite the interesting match, kid," Caligula cackles. "I was amused."

Deimos restrains his urge to kill his boss, knowing that there is a good chance the monster could kill him. His body is still sore and his power depleted. Without his helmet, his anger is clear as day.

"Don't get all butthurt, you faggot," Caligula squeezes an infant, its blood running between his fingers and into a wine glass. "I've got a mission for you, I think you'll like it. There are a lot of people for you to kill."

"What is it?" All it would take is one punch with his void fist and that fat fuck would be dead.

The emperor signals to his scribe, a 12 year old boy who had his teeth pulled out by goons so he could give better blow jobs, and the boy limps over. One of his legs is deformed. Emperor Lightning unfurls a scroll made of human skin and then shows it to Deimos.

"I just got this report this morning from the governor of Murder. It seems we got a temple dedicated to one of the gods of the old America. The job is simple: Kill all of the heretics and destroy their heathen shrine." Caligula throws the scroll to Deimos and then lifts his wine glass. "Here's to a successful endeavor," he says and then pours the blood down his throat. Some of it runs out of his mouth and into his beard.

"Hhn. Your regular goons can't handle this?"

"Sure, maybe, but I want you to do it. You're thorough and I know you won't leave a fucking trace of the blasphemy. Those idiots are the strongest in the country, but they don't know how to do anything but smash shit up." A grin spreads across the emperor's face. "You're smart and you're subtle. They would just bring more attention to the false religion and that's the last thing we want."

Deimos strokes his short beard. "You can stop blowing smoke up my ass, Caligula. I'll do it."

"I knew you would. Now get the fuck outta my sight."

As Deimos leaves the throne room of Castlevania, Junior Bruce, Junior, steps out from behind the throne.

"Sir, if I may ask ..."

"Why did I pay compliments instead of threatening him?" Caligula looks down at Bruce. "I want him sticking around. I think the others may try to get rid of me because of what's going on and I can't fight all of them at once. Maybe two or three, but, with him, the odds are closer to even."

"Are you talking about the Black Judge?"

"Nah, fuck that fag. I just used him to get Deimos on my side. Without the Secret President on his side, he's undeserving of my notice."

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

On a cliff near Castlevania, two cloaked figures watch Deimos leave the giant castle. Deimos pulls a helmet off of a corpse and puts it on his head. One of the figures laughs. The other speaks, a strange echo in his voice.

"What's so funny?"

"That bastard Caligula sending out one of those guys out to do his dirty work. It's a bit ironic."

"How's this shit ironic? The dude is doing our work for us, we might as well just go back."

"No, we have to send a message. Besides, who knows if he can even get the job done."

"Whatever," the echoing voice sighs, "We already here anyway."

"To Murder!"

The cloaked man with the echoing voice grabs his comrade and starts to fly.

[Mautty]

Becarefull in the jungles of murder.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Deimos slashes through the overgrowth with a machete, deep in the dangerous jungles that mysteriously took over the American Southwest after the Apocalypse. The humidity sticks to his body, but he ignores it as he makes his way toward the cult temple. He pauses momentarily to check his map, but it's of little help since there are no useful landmarks.

"Phobos, can you look for the temple for me?"

The demon cackles. "I could, sure. I want to get out of here almost as badly as you do." Phobos extends his bony, spider-like legs until his head is above the jungle canopy and then marches forward.

Phobos remains invisible, but Deimos can still follow him, watching for the telltale sounds of plants being pushed aside. "I see it," the creature calls down. Within an hour of walking, a clearing comes into view.

A monumental ziggurat greets Deimos and he sees men in brown robes bowing toward the peak. At the very top a figure in extravagant dress, gold jewelry and purple robes weaved with gold thread, holds high an oval shaped object. From the ground it's impossible to tell what it is.

The priest yells, "The time for prophecy has arrived!" The brown-clad revelers stop their bowing. "Come and the prophet will reveal your fate!"

The cultists line up single file and one at a time enter the temple at the top of the ziggurat. After five minutes, each cultist exits the temple, either glowing with happiness or crying in misery. Deimos watches patiently, curious as to what is happening.

One cultist, smiling, runs to a friend. "What did the prophet tell you?"

"The news is good for me and my family. My shit shall grant my son great power, the strength to defend my farm from the impious brigands who roam the land."

"The prophet told me that the cheese this year shall be perfect for sticking my dick in. I may not have to rape any of my sons or daughters this year!"

"Praise be unto the prophet!"

The strange ritual comes to an end and the priest exits the temple. The cultists bow once again to the priest, calling out in unison, "Praise be unto the prophet!" The priest raises his arms to silence the jubilant crowd.

"Please, the prophet needs his rest. Deposit your gold and you will be under the prophet's protection from the thunder pussies who ravage our homes. Next week we shall perform the Rite of Anal Rape. Praise be unto the prophet!" The cultists respond.

Deimos, unsure of what to make of this, whispers to himself, "What in God's name is going on?"

[Vinny]

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[Action Hank]

Mother. . . bitches?

[Ryoko's Biatch]

As the cultists begin to wander away, Deimos aims his gun at one's head and fires.

BANG

The body crumples to the ground and the nearby cultists dive into the dirt. Deimos steps into the clearing, and walks up to one of the earthbound cultists and points his gun at the back of the man's head. The assassin whispers, "Bang," but before he can pull the trigger the gun is knocked out of his hand.

"What the fuck?" Deimos looks around and then a green blur throws him on his back. He opens up a portal and grabs a shotgun, hoping the scatter will negate his enemy's speed. But the green blur is gone. He decides to just kill the cowering cultists to draw whoever attacked him out.

After he fires, the buckshot is reflected back at him, though it bounces off of his armor.

"Drop your weapon, cur," a voice calls out. Deimos looks up to see a man in a Revolution-era military uniform and mounted on a crystal horse.

"Washington?"

"Indeed I am," Washington replies. "Leave these people alone that they may return to their farms and tend to their families. They are innocents."

"Suck my balls."

"Kiss my ass, assassin," Washington points his sabre at Deimos. "My sword shall cut your body in twain."

Deimos drops his shotgun. "Listen, I'm just doing my job. Why should you give a shit about these people? Do you know what they do?"

"I know and, though I don't approve, I respect their rights as citizens to believe as they will as long as they do not violate the rights of others."

"Wait, is it true that you held an opponent's wife's hand in a jar of acid? At a party?"

"Yes, but that is not important right now." Washington fires lasers from his eyes and surrounds the clearing with a wall of fire. "This foul prophet must die, I agree, but let the people go."

"You just trapped them in here, though."

"No shit, but I also trapped you and the prophet."

"Oh, okay. Well, I'll go kill the prophet."

Deimos walks toward the ziggurat but then two cloaked figures fall out of the sky. One pulls his hood down and stares at Deimos with a maniacal grin. Washington's eyes turn cold as he recognizes the man.

"McBeef," Washington says quietly.

"Heh heh," you remember me. "The name's Richard McBeef, Deimos, since our host, Mr. Washington, is being so rude as to not introduce us. Me and my associate were going to let you wipe these muthafuckers out, but it seems Mr. Washington won't let that happen. So now we have to fight."

Washington and his horse disappear and then reappear above McBeef, swinging down his sabre. Clouds of smoke shoot out from the sleeves of the other cloaked man and catch the blade in mid-air. McBeef laughs again.

"My associate is a very powerful individual. You'd be wise to let us do our work or else we'll have to add you to our list of people to kill."

Deimos pulls out a sword and charges at McBeef only to have another cloud of smoke fly into his lungs, choking him. He coughs, but the smoke refuses to be dislodged, and as he suffocates, his hand loses its grip on the hilt.

"Didn't you see what my associate did to Mr. Washington? And good ol' George is infinitely stronger than you'll ever be." McBeef waves his finger in Deimos' face. "I was going to let you live even though it is our policy to kill anyone who sees us. Now, you're going to have to pay."

Deimos' eyes lose focus and the demon cackles in delight. The two cloaked men are distracted long enough for Washington to free his sword and cut the smoke that chokes Deimos in half, freeing him. McBeef screams and then the blade pierces his heart.

"Fu ... Fuck you ... Washington," McBeef mutters before he slides off of the sabre.

"MOTHER BITCHES HAY SLAY DAY LAY AND A TWIST OF GAY! FREE MY SLICES OR THE CONSEQUENCES WILL BE ASSFUCKINGLY DIRE!"

The prophet steps into the sunlight and out of the temple.

[Big Fagot]

MCBEEEEEEEEEF!

[Action Hank]

I hope that's not the last we see of Richard McBeef!

[Spamdini]

Richard McBeef cannot die. Certainly not until he deals a deadly blow!

[Ryoko's Biatch]

The prophet, in his gold robe, walks down the stairs of the ziggurat toward the assholes fighting each other in the clearing. He pulls down his hood to reveal a man with spiky green hair.

"You thunder pussies dare defile sacred land? By the powers granted to me by the venerable Ant God, I shall destroy you all for your heretical actions." The prophet starts charging his ki or whatever, but doesn't do anything for several minutes.

Deimos breaks the silence, "So this is the guy I'm supposed to kill?"

Washington nods. "This is Piccohon, the illegitimate son of Piccolo and Gohon."

"Whatever." Deimos draws a 9mm and fires, but the bullets bounce off of Piccohan's skin.

"MOTHER BITCHES, THE ANT GOD HAS BLESSED ME WITH SKIN AS HARD AS HIS EXOSKELETON!"

The remaining cloaked man rips off his cloak, revealing a robotic form. He opens up a compartment in one arm and puts a plastic bag inside.

"FUCK MY DICK, FAGGOT!" Piccohan runs toward the formerly cloaked robot and punches it in the chest. The chest gives slightly like it was a sack filled with smoke. "What is this shit?"

"I am the Weed Machine," he grabs Piccohan by the neck. The cultists see their prophet about to be murdered, so they jump on the Weed Machine, but smoke shoots out of the vents on his arms blowing them all away. The echoing voice says, "The boss is tired of your bullshit, so I'm here to choke a muthafucka."

Clouds of smoke billow out of Weed Machine's wrists and fly up Piccohan's nose. As Piccohan's torso expands he tries desperately to scream but all that comes out are wisps of weed smoke. Within seconds his body explodes and the smoke goes back into Weed Machine's arms.

Deimos points his gun at Weed Machine. "That was cool and all, but let's see how you do with a few more holes in that suit of yours." Deimos fires, but Weed Machine starts to fly.

"DEADLY BLOW!"

Deimos' neck cracks and he hits the ground. McBeef shakes his hand and laughs. "It hurt punching that damn iron helmet. Washington, we have unfinished business. The boss has a price on your head and I have my own reasons to kill you."

"Dick, I have no qualms with ending your life."

"NO ONE CALLS ME DICK! NOT ANY MORE! DEADLY BLOW!"

Washington catches the fist in mid-swing. "Dick, you are done here."

"Weed Machine, kill every single one of these muthafuckers."

Weed Machine nods and fires smoke bullets from his fingers at the cultists. Washington throws McBeef in front of some of them and then uses his crystal horse to deflect the rest.

"Dick, Weed Machine, these people are innocent! If you do not leave now, your lives will be forfeit." Washington draws his sabre.

"Fuck that!" Deimos stabs Weed Machine in the back and smoke leaks out around the edges.

"No! Noooooo!" Weed Machine cries out as the sword is pulled out. He tries to hold the smoke in, but it's just too much to control, and his body slowly deflates.

"Fuck, without more weed, he's going to die!" McBeef pulls out a bag of weed from his belt and throws it to Weed Machine, but it flies into a void.

"No, I have all the weed I need," Weed Machine says, digging his fingers into the dirt. "There is a secret that almost no one knows." The clearing starts filling up with fog. "If I'm going to die, I'm taking you all with me."

As the fog thickens, Deimos smells the weed smoke. "Oh shit." He throws his sword into McBeef's throat and then dives into a portal.

McBeef gargles on his own blood. Washington shakes his head as he and his horse bound off into the sky.

"THIS PLANET IS GOING UP IN SMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKE!"

As Washington looks back, the clearing explodes. He knows this isn't the end. He thinks, Even if McBeef is dead, the idol surely is not. And Deimos, he survived a deadly blow from McBeef. No man could live through one of those. No, not just survived, he did not even look shaken by it. I wonder ...

[Ryoko's Biatch]

WEED MACHINE

[My Head Hurts 90]

Fantastic.

[Big Fagot]

I wish I could make that damn program work.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

McBeef, his clothes burned off, stumbles out of the crater where the pagan temple used to be. He drops a round object into a black bag and pulls out a cell phone. As he puts it up to his mouth, the wounds on his body start healing.

"Boss, I got the target. Do you want me to destroy it?"

...

"Yeah, all of the cultists are dead."

...

"Okay, I'll bring the package back. I'm on my way to the pick up site in the N.E.D."

...

"Caligula's mercenary destroyed Weed Machine's containment suit."

...

"I figured you already knew he'd be there. Should I wait for Weed Machine to be recollected before we move in?"

...

"You've already begun the process? Good."

...

"No, no. I don't think I'm smarter than you. I'm just glad that you're already on top of things."

...

"The mercenary shouldn't be a problem, it's Washington we need to worry about. It seems like he knows what we're doing before we do."

...

"Your plans are excellent, but Washington is a brilliant general. It's my fault for not acting on your orders fast enough. I apologize. I shouldn't have wasted my time scouting Caligula."

...

"Good. I can't believe he's pushed it so far."

...

"I don't think he knows we've been watching him. The mercenary doesn't even know we exist."

...

"Yes, he heard our names."

...

"Shit, I'll stop him. Don't worry about it, it's my fault."

...

"I'm on it, Mr. Prime Minister."

The cell phone beeps and the screen turns black. McBeef puts it back. He kicks the bag in frustration.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

"Fuck."

Deimos falls out of a void and hits the ground hard. He wasn't cursing because of the pain; he was cursing because he realized he forgot something.

"The goddamn artifact," Deimos pounds the dirt with his hand, "I was supposed to destroy the artifact."

"It couldn't have survived that explosion," Phobos tells him.

He was probably right. The flames that engulfed the temple could still be seen from this distance. He wondered why Caligula wanted the thing destroyed. The instructions didn't even explain what it was. Fuck it, he finally decided as he got up off of the ground. It was a long way back to Castlevania and less than a month before Elegy of Extinction.

Before he can make much progress George Washington and his crystal horse fall into his path. Deimos lets out a sigh and then yells out, "What the hell do you want, old man?"

"We need to go back. The prophet still lives." George Washington has a grave look on his face.

"That's impossible, don't you see that shit over there?" Deimos points to the rising smoke. "Besides, that Weed Machine guy killed the prophet."

"No," Washington says, "Piccohon was not the prophet. He told his followers that he was, but the real prophet was the idol they all prayed to. I believe that Caligula told you to capture a certain artifact."

"How the hell do you know that?"

Washington's horse turns. He points his fist toward Deimos and the Mason ring on Washington's finger lights up; a hologram appears. "Show me the prophet." Red lasers fire out and stop in mid-air, forming an image. As the image becomes clearer, Deimos sees a shape. A bag moving back and forth. "Have you seen enough or do I need to show you more?"

"Who is carrying the bag?"

The image zooms out, but we don't see that the world is made out of weed. It's Dick McBeef. The hologram disappears and Washington lowers his hand.

"McBeef will be here soon. It is up to you if you wish to engage him, but I am needed elsewhere." Washington's horse raises up to its hind legs. "I eagerly await the results, it could well influence the future should you succeed." And with that Washington was gone.

Phobos' inhuman face appears in front of Deimos'. "This could be interesting. I thought you killed McBeef, but there's more to him than the fat piece of pork he appears to be."

"I guess if I don't kill him now, he'll try to kill me later." Deimos draws a sword from his void. "Maybe it'll earn me a bonus, too."

Trees start exploding behind Deimos. Flying wood chips embed themselves in his arm. He winces momentarily, surprised at the speed that McBeef caught up with him. When McBeef stops, his balding head shines in the mid-afternoon light.

"I've taken about as much shit from punk kids like you as I can stand," McBeef says. The muscles in his arms thicken. "Prepare for the full power of my deadly blow."

"Give me your best shot, McPork," Deimos says with a grin on his face. "I mean McBeef."

[Ryoko's Biatch]

"You think this is funny, kid?" McBeef asks as his frame continues to swell. "I have control over every cell in my body and right now I'm having my muscle cells grow at an exponential rate."

"I've fought my fair share of freaks," Deimos pulls out a pistol. "This isn't half as scary as the guy with the indestructible, shape-shifting dick."

Deimos fires and the bullets hit their target, but McBeef's muscles grip the projectiles before they can make much progress. Crouching down, McBeef digs his fingers into the earth and pulls out a boulder. Raising it above his head he laughs.

"It's been nice knowing you, but I'm afraid this will be the end of our acquaintance."

"Yeah, I figured. See you in Hell, Dick."

McBeef's eyeball explodes as a bullet flies through it and into his brain. The body jerks as blood, bone and gray matter fire out of the back of his head. When he hits the ground, the boulder crushes him. Deimos blows the smoke from the barrel of his gun and then drops it to the ground.

"I thought Washington couldn't lie. That guy was a pussy."

The boulder rolls over and the mangled Richard McBeef rises from the waist. His head is just beginning to reform around the hole in it. The crushed body is already almost fully restored. He cracks his neck to each side and then stands.

"That was very good," McBeef says, wiping the blood from his chest. "If it wasn't for the upgrades the boss gave me, you probably would have killed me."

"Who's your boss?" Deimos pulls out another gun. A Glock 21.

A confused look crosses McBeef's face before he starts laughing again. "So he didn't tell you about anything? I guess that makes sense, he didn't tell us about his plans, either. I'd let you in on our little secret club, but I don't see much profit in talking to dead men."

"The Secret President?"

"Oh ho," McBeef raises his eyebrow, "You know more than I thought, but he's not the boss." A new eye blinks in McBeef's face. "Well, enough of that, let's finish this."

McBeef catches a bullet in mid-air and throws it to the ground. Then he waves his index finger. Deimos drops the gun and thinks to himself, Guess the stupid asshole is smarter than he looks. Rolling out of the way of a chunk of earth, he pulls a sword out of his void. Back on his feet he charges McBeef, who simply catches the blade in his throat and leans forward. McBeef's meaty hand holds Deimos' in place around the hilt.

"We haven't even gone on a date and you want to hold hands?" Deimos spits in McBeef's face. "Besides, I'm not into that fag shit."

"I'll show you who's the fag, fag," McBeef gurgles and blood runs down his mouth. "I've been going easy on you. I see that was a mistake."

"I guess I should tell you the same." Deimos winces as one of the bones in his hand snaps in two. "I've got a monster in my blood."

"Don't make me laugh, fool!" McBeef spits his blood at Deimos. "We know all about your faggot demon. He won't help you!"

"Heh," Deimos falls to a knee, but his face betrays his confidence. "I'll have to show you what I mean, then." He rises back up and pushes the hand guard up to McBeef's adam's apple. McBeef's eyes widen, wondering how his massive strength could fail him.

The grin widens across Deimos' face. "I've never gone all the way with this, but you've forced my hand." Red stones burst through his arm, creating a rocky skin. He raises his arm and slices McBeef's head in two. McBeef staggers and pushes his skull back together.

Deimos' teeth sharpen as the stone skin spreads to his face.

"Let's see what this body can do."

[Ryoko's Biatch]

As the stone skin continues to spread over Deimos' body, McBeef watches with horror. He hadn't felt fear like this since that day over three years ago ...

His step-son John, that rambunctious pubescent boy, he tried so hard to ruin McBeef's life. McBeef's wife wouldn't believe him, that John was just an angry kid, that he needed time to get over his father's death, but that damn kid. That goddamn asshole kid.

Just when McBeef was about to do his wife doggy style, the way she liked, that damn kid accused him of murdering the boy's father, that he had actually admitted it to him. The kid was right, McBeef did murder his father, but he would never tell that faggot kid that.

McBeef knew that the boy's father, John Sr., wasn't good enough for his wife. Sure, he was a hotshot senator, but McBeef had heard him talking about all of the horrible things he had done. No man like that deserved a wife so beautiful. Every day she would stop by John Sr.'s office and as soon as she left he would be back to his corrupt ways. It was sickening. So Richard hatched a plan.

One day, John Sr. walked past McBeef, who was mopping up the floor. John Sr. was asking some of his aides if they wanted to go fishing with him on his new boat. McBeef knew what kind of depraved things would go on when John Sr. was out sailing. John Sr. was known on Capitol Hill for his yacht parties, where there would be endless supplies of cocaine and hookers and whatever was left over would be tossed overboard. McBeef ran into the janitor's closet and ripped off his jumpsuit to reveal a business suit.

"Excuse me, sir," McBeef called out. "I heard you mention you were going fishing. Do you mind if I tag along?"

John Sr. sized McBeef up. He didn't remember seeing this guy around before. If he was some kind of informant or something, John thought, well, he could go overboard with all of the hookers.

"Sure, Mister ... ?"

"McBeef. Richard McBeef."

"Well, Dick, here's my card. I'll write down the place you can meet us at, we'll have a couple drinks before we head out. Is that okay?"

"Yes, sir." He hated being called Dick, but he'd swallow his pride just this once.

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

McBeef watches Deimos' amputated arm grow back in grotesque form. Deimos was now ten feet tall and must weigh at least a ton. McBeef realizes that he could be that size if he wanted to. He stands up.

"Well, big shot, you think you're the only one who can transform? CHECK THIS OUT!"

Twitching, McBeef's body expands, its bones and muscles growing obscenely. When the growth stops, McBeef hardly looks human. The two monsters, no longer men, step toward each other. In their twisted minds, only one thought exists: Kill. Only one can walk away.

They don't notice McBeef's bag rolling away.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

The two massive beasts stand mere feet apart, trading blows without any strategy, just pure brute force. Each punch cracks with deafening noise. Neither McBeef nor Deimos show a single sign of pain.

"You think you scare-" McBeef's voice is cut off by an uppercut, "scare me, faggot?"

"I-" Deimos is cut off by a right hook, "-haven't even begun to be scary." Deimos leaps back and opens his fists, each finger extending into a blade.

"Ha, how many times have you tried-" McBeef's body is pierced by all ten blades and pin him against a tree, the points going all the way through his body and into the wood. "We've covered this before. I can instantly heal from any wound you inflict. Give it up, no amount of strength or 'impressive' weapon can stop me."

Deimos spreads his fingers apart, slicing McBeef into chunks.

When McBeef's head hits the ground, it laughs. "It doesn't matter how many pieces you cut me into," while he says this a torso starts growing out of his neck, "I'll keep on growing back."

"Then I haven't cut you into enough pieces."

The blades retract back into Deimos' hands and then extend back out, digging into McBeef's face. He lifts McBeef off of the ground and throws him up into the air. Moving at blinding speed, the regrowing body is diced into hundreds of cubes.

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

"What's your name again?" John Sr. asks, shaking McBeef's hand.

"Richard McBeef."

"Right, right," John Sr. nods his head. "Dick, the boat is this way. Everyone else is already there. When we get there, we can take off."

McBeef's hands clench in anger. No one calls him Dick and gets away with it. But it'll be worth it this time. When that asshole senator dies, his wife will find comfort in McBeef's arms. Everything that damn dirty son of a bitch has will be his. The thought soothes him.

John Sr. steps onto the yacht and waves to everyone. "This is Dick McBeef. He'll be joining us tonight." He turns back to McBeef. "Dick, feel free to sample everything I have to offer." John points to the stack off drugged women laying in a pile. At that moment, a man picks up one and drags her to the side and pulls out his dick. McBeef gasps. He couldn't have imagined this kind of depravity. He lost his temper.

"What the fuck is going on here?" All of the people on the boat look at McBeef, bewildered. As far as they're concerned, they're doing nothing wrong. "Don't you see how sick this is?" One fisherman reels his line in, a dead hooker is attached to the hook. It was too much. McBeef runs up to the man and throws him overboard.

"You fat piece of pork!" John Sr. yells and punches McBeef in the face. "I invite you to my party and this is how you act? Sure, that guy was a useless fag, but that is still so not cool."

McBeef rubs his face and looks down at his gut. He really has fallen out of shape since he was cut from the Washington Redskins. The self-loathing he feels in that instant is transfered into his fist. His uppercut knocks the wind from John Sr.'s lungs and he falls to his knees. Everyone on board is still too shocked to react when McBeef dives through the window into the control room. He's still got some moves, he thinks as he claps his hands on the captain's ears.

"No!" John Sr. screams and then coughs, still not recovered. "Dick, what are you doing?"

McBeef picks up an ax and drops the blade into the floor, cutting his way down to the engine.

"Goddamn it, someone stop him! He's lost his fucking mind!" John Sr. still can't rise from his knee. No one moves until they hear an explosion. Then they panic, many of them jumping overboard into the freezing water. None of them are in good enough shape to swim to shore and most drown within minutes.

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

The bloody hunks of flesh hit the dirt.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

The flesh cubes lay in a puddle of blood. Deimos retracts his finger blades and starts to laugh. "I hope you can heal from that. I haven't had this much fun in years."

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

It had all started with the first deadly blow. As soon as John hit the pavement, the life in his body gone, fear creeped into McBeef's soul. He couldn't believe what he had done. In horrible coincidence, John's mother, who had thankfully put away her chainsaw, saw what had happened.

"My ... My little pooey pooey boy. You fat piece of pork, McBeef! How could you do this to my son? You were supposed to get on terms with him and then I find out you molested him and now you killed him?"

"No, listen, it's not like that! Honey poo, he attacked me!"

"Now you're saying these horrible things while he's dead? No, never call me honey poo again!"

McBeef had no choice. He killed her. Hours later, the Apocalypse happened.

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

The blood jumps up and forms a web between the pieces and slowly pulls them together. A face soon becomes visible, its surface uneven and rough, but recognizably McBeef. McBeef's head coughs up scabbing chunks of blood as the rest of his body starts to regrow.

"You goddamn ... fucking ..."

"I'll let you pull yourself together."

"Fucking ... puns are the ... lowest form of ... humor."

When McBeef's arms grow back, he walks on his hands while his legs are forming and he charges toward Deimos. Deimos laughs and then kicks the torso against a tree. McBeef hits the ground and the tree splinters and falls. Suddenly, the laughter slows down and then stops. A sense of dread forms in McBeef's new stomach.

"I'll make this quick," a British voice says, "I'm not sure how well my illusions work against demonic powers. And, yes, Ninurta-allu, I know you're here and that my illusion did not affect you."

Phobos growls and becomes visible. The sight of the creature shocks McBeef who comically backs up and falls over.

"How did yo-"

The British man cuts Phobos off, "We know a lot of things. It's my business to know these things." The Brit steps out from behind a tree, smartly dressed in a suit and tie. "And if you try to interfere in the other aspects of my business, I will not hesitate to tell our mutual friend your name."

"What the hell do you want?" Phobos asks, his patience wearing thin.

"Nothing with you, Ninurta-allu. Now be good and leave me be." The Brit turns to McBeef. "You really fucked things up, McBeef. You should have known better than to engage Washington and on top of that, you lost the thing you came for and nearly had Weed Machine killed. I believe that I have to revoke your membership."

"No! If you do, I'll be killed!" McBeef falls to his knees at the Brit's feet. "Please, I won't make any more mistakes." He grabs on to the Brit's coat and his hands are quickly brushed off.

"You're bloodying my jacket," the Brit tries to rub the stain out. "You cunt, you think you can buy my favour with empty promises? No, your time with us is complete. I've already collected the prophet. You can easily be replaced at any rate. Well, I suppose it is time for me to go. As a sign of good will, I've erased Deimos' memory and he's currently experiencing the murders he would have committed if you were competent at your job."

Tears streak down McBeef's face. He can already feel his powers fading. The boss' powers even worked at such an incredible range, McBeef thinks. "I'm- I'm so-"

"Enough, I'm leaving. Ninurta-allu, eviscerate this worthless cunt."

McBeef falls down and screams as the demon lurches forward, it's teeth bared.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

The Brit sits down in a shiny, metallic room. He places McBeef's bag on a desk and sits down in front of it. Before he opens the bag, he pushes a button on the desk and a tinny voice responds.

"Keep me appraised of Weed Machine's condition," the Brit says and then examines his watch. "We cannot take off until we are positive that we have collected all of his smoke."

"What about Mr. McBeef?" the voice asks.

"Hmm. Just incinerate whatever's left."

"Anything else, sir?"

"Yes, I'd like a kettle of tea served to my quarters. Thank you. Actually, add some biscuits to that order."

The Brit stands up and walks toward a map of New America. He pulls out the pin that was placed over the site of the ziggurat. Other pins cover the map with photographs of individuals attached to them. He could have all of this done with a computer, but he preferred manipulating everything by hand. He felt that it helped him remember everything better. Running his finger over the country, he stops on Caligula's face and taps it several times. Finally, he turns around and sits back at the desk, then pulls the object out of McBeef's bag.

"Well, 'prophet', we meet at last. I've heard so much about you." The Brit holds the object up to his face.

"Suck my cock, motherbitch!"

The Brit tosses the object in his hands. "Oh, come now. Your dick was removed courtesy a certain Mr. Nguyen. I'm sure you'd like revenge, right, Ant King?"

"WERE IS THAT THUNDERPUSSY?"

"Patience. We need to reconstruct your body first, but you'll have a job right away." The Brit sets the Ant King's head on a pillow. "A position just opened up in my organization."