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. Was Caligula Lightning's first champion, and managed to survive and succeed in Slaughter Serenade. Is trying to find his father, and has discovered that his brother, Maxwell Powers, is still alive.

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. 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:
(image not yet available)
The ILLUSIONIST's hispanic/asian servant. Is also a skilled knife fighter.


Other Characters:

The Bebop Shogun:
Powerful Jazz musician and fighter/mass murder. JAZZ FANTASTIC seeks the Shogun.

The Sinistars:
A team of performance-themed assassins hunting the ILLUSIONIST.

Maxwell Powers:
Vic's younger, accomplished, capable, handsome brother. Looks like Vic, but has a glorious mustache and is bigger, stronger, and suave. First appears at Slaughter Serenade---is he somehow connected to von Toity?

Imhotep:
Fabled magician in Ancient Egypt. Failed to appear at a summoning ceremony held by the GUILD...


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Story So Far:

Vic has somehow survived another of Caligula Lightning's bloody tournaments, this time relying on his own abilities rather than the strange powers he has inexplicably (not for long) possessed. He is currently trapped working at the Bloody Stool Inn until he can pay for damages in his fight with Church and State, though not for much longer.

Who was the mysterious man at Slaughter Serenade? And what does the Baron Hoity von Toity have in store for our lackluster hero?

Find out in Chapter Four: Blood is Thicker than MAGIC
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Rice]

Hey for once I'm kind of looking forward to your promos!

[Spamdini]

Church & State, not Stars & Stripes! God!

[Action Hank]

Whoops!

[Spamdini]

Gawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwd

[Action Hank]

-----------CHAPTER FOUR: BLOOD IS THICKER THAN MAGIC!----------

It's evening at the Bloody Stool. The inkeeper stands at his usual spot, spitting into cups and wiping them dry with blood-soaked rags. The large holes in the walls have been patched up with broken tables and stained sheets, and the damage hasn't effected business. In fact, business is better than ever! Goons stand around getting drunk, fighting, raping, etc. However, there is something new in the inn.

A sign.

Hanging outside, above the door, is a sign proudly proclaiming the Bloody Stool as home to one of the finalists for Elegy of Extinction, the ILLUSIONIST!, right next to the official "letter"---a piece of skin cut off the back of the original messenger.

And inside, a crude stage has been constructed in the corner where a large black man wearing sunglasses plays a saxophone while an asian or hispanic man with a shit stain for a mustache is juggling knives and a man covered in bandages and a dirty tuxedo pulls the head of a rabbit out of a hat (and screams in horror). The goons watch and laugh. There is an odd respect for these pathetic performers that a newcomer could sense but not understand. Yes, the ILLUSIONIST was a buffoon. He was a fool. But he had fought among kings and monsters and had won time and time again.

"Now, for my next trick," he says, winking at a human skull sitting on a stool near JAZZ FANTASTIC, "I will need a volunteer from the audience!"

Goons rush forward, hands in the air, screaming, kicking each other to get in front, killing each other to be chosen. One man seems to slide through the chaos and, although hidden in shadows, his hand seems larger and more outstretched than the others.

"Come on up, mysterious stranger!" the ILLUSIONIST says, pointing at the shadowy newcomer. Goons sigh and swear in disappointment as the man steps forward.

"Now, I have never met you before, right? I don't know you-----" Vic stops. The man steps from out of the shadows and its clear that the two do know each other. It's like looking into a funhouse mirror: one of the men is beaten, dirty, tired, small and disheveled; the other is handsome, polished, big, and wielding a mighty mustache!!! But still, both are so similar!

The man winks at Vic in a way so that only Vic can see it.

"Of course. We've never met before," the man says. His voice is like Vic's, but deeper.

"MAXWELL!" the ILLUSIONIST shouts, throwing his arms around his brother, unable to keep up the trick or play along with the grift. Maxwell only smiles as his brother embraces him. The trick cards pour out of Vic's sleeves as he hugs his brother. Soon the ground is coated in cards. If one were to closely inspect the cards directly below the feet of the Powers brothers, one would have noticed a few wet tear drops, freshly fallen from the face of the ILLUSIONIST.

"Gay!" a lone goon shouts from the crowd.

[Action Hank]

"Sir," Kimchi says. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

TOOOOOOOT! A whistle blows from nearby.

"Of course, Kimchi, my humble servant," Vic says, removing his hat and wiping the top dry. "Max said that my father is in Nouveau Richonia, and so that's where we're going. Ah, there he is."

Team ILLUSIONIST stops in front of a large black gate covered in spikes. There are a lot of people moving in and out of the gate, which is heavily guarded and patrolled by Caligula's soldiers. Maxwell is standing with several beautiful women, flirting heavily when he spots his brother.

"Ah, you made it," he says with a big smile. "We better get going. I have your tickets right here." He pushes away the women who pout and then are instantly pounced upon by rape-happy goons.

TOOOOOOOOOOT!

The four men (and one skull) push their way through the queue through the gate and into the plaza. To the far right there is a giant board with the names of various cities and times written on it in blood, and there are several smaller gates made of bones with crudely made signs with numbers painted on them.

Max excuses himself and reminds the others to meet at Track 6 in ten minutes.

"What a glorious trip this will be," Vic says, as they push through the crowd towards the "6" sign. "I haven't traveled by rail in years!"

JAZZ pushes his sunglasses up on his nose. He steps over to Kimchi.

"I think we're being watched, cat," he says. Nodding over to a suspicious looking man in a trench-coat sitting on a bench reading a newspaper. "I don't like the feel of this. All jive, man."

"Yes. We've been followed since we left the inn," Kimchi says.

--------------------------
One day earlier.

"It's been many years, brother!" Vic says. They're sitting at the bar in the Blood Stool. "I've haven't seen you or Pa since Atlantic City."

Maxwell smiles and takes a sip of his grog (which is burning a hole into the bottom of the putter mug, but Max Powers has a gut of steel).

"Five years," he says. "I thought you died in Vegas when it went Zombie."

"No, I never quite made it to Vegas. Got caught in the allure and wonder that is---Omaha."

Maxwell laughs.

"Yeah. I saw you, on TV, before this all went to shit. That was quite a magic trick, when your car vanished and all."

Vic laughs a bit nervously.

"So, what about Pa?" the ILLUSIONIST asks, drawing closer to his brother. Maxwell cringes a bit at Vic's terrible garlic breath.

"Well, that's what I'm here for. He heard that you were still alive, and sent me to find you."

"REALLY? HE WANTED YOU TO FIND ME?" Vic's grows excited.

"Yeah. He's in Branson. But its not too good, bro. He's---sick."

"No!" tears well up in the corners of Vic's eyes. "I must see Pop! Must!"

"There are only three weeks to Elegy of Extinction. The only way we can get to Branson and back in time is by MURDER TRAIN."

Suddenly the bar goes quiet.

"Oh no," the inkeeper says, cutting in on the conversation. "He ain't goin' on no train. He gots ta' pay off 'is debts."

CLINK!!! A giant bag filled with gold coins lands on the bar.

"Will this do?" Maxwell asks.

The inkeeper stares, mouth open.

"Ugh..."

"Meet me tomorrow, at the station. I'll have the tickets."

Maxwell stands. Some of the goons close in on him, staring at the money.

"Ey," one of the goons says. "Ya' rich! Ya ain't gonna be fer long." The goon twists his wrist and fires outwards like a grappling hook connected to a stump by a chain. Spikes pop out of the fake hand as it aims straight for Max's face.

Suddenly the arms is wrapped around the goon's neck and tightened until the head pops off. Maxwell is standing behind the goon.

Two other goons attack, but Maxwell moves so quickly, his hands so fast, that he's already at the door. AND THE GOONS ARE NAKED! Maxwell drops the dirty clothes on the floor, laughs a hearty laugh, twirls his mustache, and opens the door.
---------------------------------------------

TOOOOOOOOOOT!

Vic turns and points at the train. Its surrounded in steam and smoke and the air smells like cooking meat. The engine is a big, black phallic-shaped metallic monster covered in barbed wire with machine-gun turrets. Heavily-armored goon guards are chained to its side holding large spiked rods.

"Wow," Vic says.

From the top window of a neighboring building, there's a flash of light. JAZZ rushes forward with his Sax case, but it's too late! HE CAN'T GET TO THE FLYING KNIFE!

Suddenly its snatched out of the air by Maxwell, who's returned, holding the tickets. He snatches it so quickly and effortlessly that JAZZ can barely follow. The knife disappears in his hands.

"Come on, bro. Let's get going. The train's about to leave." He eyes a rapidly approaching blur.

"Whoopie!" Vic says. "This is gonna be fun. Whooo hooo!"

Vic pumps his arms as his brother pushes him forward. At the same time he tosses the knife at the Castrati Contortionist, who leans back and catches it with his mouth---however the momentum is too great and it flips him over.

As TEAM ILLUSIONIST gets on the train, the man behind the newspaper raises a walkie talkie to his mouth.

"Stage one, failed. Moving on to stage two. Sinistars, time to get on the train."

[Action Hank]

"So, where have you been for the last three years?" Maxwell asks as they take their seats on the Murder Train.

The interior of the train is crowded and hot, however TEAM ILLUSIONIST is sitting in their own private compartment, a rare luxury afforded only by the rich or the powerful. The rest of the passengers stand in tight metal cars that are nothing more than animal pens. Goon conductors walk between metal cages and periodically dish out slop from dirty buckets. Now and then, heavily armored conductors wielding stun clubs enter the pens to collect dead bodies. Currently, the train is operating with a 65% mortality rate, its highest since it began running.

Its bodies that make the train go!

Kimchi pours the two brothers some tea, another rare luxury. JAZZ declines. He just sits back, lowers his hat, and appears to drift off into sleep. However, his eyes are open behind his glasses.

"Well," Vic beings, sipping at his tea. The train jostles a bit as it runs over a pack of hobos, causing Vic to choke.

"Master!" Kimchi shouts, and rushes to the ILLUSIONIST's aid. He only manages to knock over the cup and pour scalding tea all over Vic's crotch.

"Ahhhh!" Vic stands up and Kimchi pounds unmercifully at Vic's genitals. Maxwell just smiles.

"Its good to see you, Vic," he says, and sips his tea.

The ILLUSIONIST grimaces and nods in response. At last Kimchi stops with the crotch chops and Vic sits back down.

"I'll go find some towels or something," Kimchi says, and exits the department, though he first checks his knives.

"Well, I was in that dreadful race. And then, suddenly, I was somewhere else!"

-------------------------------------
The only light is a dull blue pulse from very far away. Vic grabs at himself, seeing if he is really there or if he is dead. Then he turns to the DILETTANTE.

"What just happened?"

But the DILETTANTE is fucking dead.

"Oh boy," Rodney Dangercar says. "I get no respect! Every week my dad used to take me to the zoo. Turns out, he was trying to make a trade! Now look at me! I would have had better luck in the monkey house."

"Oh god, oh god, oh god."

Vic tries to push himself away from the dead DILETTANTE. But its a Mitsubishi Mirage. There's nowhere to go. He manages to slip into the back of the car, but there's no fucking leg room! SHIT!

"When I was a kid I got no respect. I told my old man, 'I'm sick and tired of running around in circles.' He got mad. He nailed down my other foot."

"What does that have anything to do with---with---anything?"

"Look at me. Even as a car I can't get respect. My kid drives me nuts. For three years now he goes to a private school, he won't tell me where it is."

"What does that mean? Why is this happening to me?!"

"Oh my," a familiar voice says from the front seat. The car suddenly smells like a mix of rotten eggs and cologne. "Seems like you're in quite the bind."

"Lucifer! You've come to save me?"

Lucifer sits, a chalice in hand. He swishes around the liquid a bit but doesn't take sip.

"No, far from it, Victor." The chalice suddenly turns into a roll of paper. "I've come to discuss your contract. It appears that you've violated it. In section 34, part d, addendum xiii, it clearly states that trans dimensional shifting is prohibited. Now, I've already been *chuckle* burned once by such actions. That's why the addendum was put into place."

"So, what does that mean?"

"It means that I'm dropping you." The contract bursts into flames. Lucifer blows at his fingertips.

"You're just going to let me die?"

Lucifer laughs. "I don't care what you do with yourself. Live, die, I am no longer your manager. In fact, I'm retiring. Oh, you can't imagine the anarchy going on back on Earth. Hell is a mess with new arrivals, and I haven't the time to play games. But, as this wasn't entirely your fault, you are guaranteed a compensation package."

He hands the ILLUSIONIST a burlap sack.

"There is $34.48 in there. And some gum. Use it wisely."

And then, Lucifer is gone.

"Oh boy. You just got the shit end of the shaft," Rodney Dangercar says.

Vic just stares at the sack. He doesn't even open it.

"I call dibs on the gum, woah boy. My breath smells like a mouse died in me."

----MEANWHILE-----

Kimchi makes his way through the first class area, searching for a conductor. First class is much nicer than the pens, though not quite as nice as the private compartments. It is here that things resemble a normal train as one would find it before the apocalypse.

"Excuse me," Kimchi says to a goon conductor, tapping the man on his shoulder.

The goon turns. Kimchi reaches for a knife----

"YOU!" he says.

[Action Hank]

NOTE: No new chapter this week. I'm on vacation.
The ILLUSIONIST will return on the 29th.

[Magic Juan]

I guess it's always funny when someone finds an arbitrary amount of chump change.

Just giving you my two cents, though.

[Action Hank]

Things worked differently inside the pocket dimension. For one thing, time behaved queerly. While in our own dimension three years passed, time passed much more quickly within the pocket dimension. In fact, to Victor Powers Jr, over 100 years passed trapped within the Rodney Dangercar.

Now, how did Vic survive over 100 years trapped in a car with no food or water? If someone else had been trapped, they would have died. The screwy physics of the pocket dimension still required for living cells to have a continuous supply of ATP for protein production and for cells to grow and split. And even if they did manage to survive, how was it that he didn't age? You see, something happened to Victor even before Hard'rok banished him and his dead partner.

The ILLUSIONIST had been radiated by the inner workings of the Sleigh(t) of Hand.

If he had remained in our own dimension, he would have suffered lymphoma and died a painful death as his cell machinery went haywire and filled his body with cancerous, useless cells. Instead, something else happened. As the radiation began interfering with the amino acid makeup of his DNA, he entered the pocket dimension. Instead of creating dangerous cancer cells, the radiation enhanced his telomerase.

When scientists first studied DNA, they noticed an area of repeating amino acids that seemed to pose no useful function. However, this area, the telomere region, is actually the control center of longevity. We are incapable of fully replicating the complete DNA strand during DNA synthesis. The telomere acts as a buffer zone that protects important genetic information. However, each time a cell splits and DNA is replicated, a bit of the telomere region is lost. As it shortens, the chance for mistakes in genetic replication increases. Eventually, the cell reaches a point where it will lose genetic information, and cancer is often the result. Telomerase is a protein that adds more repeating amino acid pairs to the telomeres. The dose of radiation that Vic received changed the structure of his telomerase.

Basically, Vic's cells can never die naturally. They no longer age. And, they never will age again.

A second thing happened. Just because he can never age doesn't mean he doesn't require energy. The second thing that happened was that Victor Powers, Jr, the man known as the ILLUSIONIST, mistakenly and randomly encountered something within his first week within the pocket dimension.

Vic had always had a strange streak of luck, despite the overwhelmingly odds (look at the guy! He probably should never have survived child birth!). In fact, there is no such thing as luck. It wasn't chance that led him to his career in the FTUW. It wasn't chance that paired him with The DILETTANTE, or was radiated by the Sleigh(t) of Hand. Even his banishment to the pocket dimension wasn't by luck. Everything that had happened to Vic had been predetermined.

His entire life, his entire existence, everything that he had done or will do, had been set in motion thousands of years earlier. And the central point, the metaphoric lode stone to his existence, was there in the pocket dimension.

It was there that he encountered a great force.
---------------------------------
A woman sits with legs crossed smoking a long cigarette. She removes it from her mouth and blows a smoke ring. Kimchi stares, knife in hand.

A smile curls at the edge of her lips. She winks at him once and before he can think, he's in her control.

"Too easy," she says to the man sitting next to her.

"But where's the fun?" he says, and cracks his fingers.

"Ugh," she says in disgust. "I hate that disgusting habit of yours."

"My fingers are my tools," the Ventriloquistador says. He's an ugly, thin man with long hands and longer fingers. His face resembles a rat. "And like all tools, they must be carefully looked after. They are like the brush to an artist, a scalpel to a surgeon."

"A scepter to a fool."

"You have no appreciation for the arts. Watch," he says as he extends his fingers. Nearly invisible fishing lines extend from hidden reels within his sleeves and puncture Kimchi's skin, wrapping around his nerves and tendons. The Ventriloquistador then wiggles his fingers gently and Kimchi begins to dance.

Kimchi's mouth opens and closes, but the voice sounds muffled and odd:

"Care to dance, m'lady?"

The Hypnotits claps. "Very good. But the voice---"

The Ventriloquistador nods, clears his throat and when Kimchi speaks again, it sounds natural.

"Why do men break wind more than women? Because women can't shut up long enough to build up the pressure."

"Ghastly," Hypnotits says, "But it will do."

The Ventriloquistador relaxes his fingers and the fishing line detaches from Kimchi, who just stands there, still entranced by the Hypnotits.

"I propose a challenge," the Ventriloquistador says. "Let's see who does a better job controlling this mongrel. If I win, you will agree to go on a date with me. Escapist or not."

"Ugh," she says, squishing her face in repulsion. "And if I win, you're my slave for a month."

"Then its a deal."

[Action Hank]

The Ventriloquistador's Attempt:

Within the train of death and violence
A door is opened and met with silence,
Latino Kimchi (or is he Asian?)
Stood, though under another's persuasion
"Where are the towels that you were to get?"
Asked The ILLUSIONIST, his pants still wet.
For our hero's servant was empty handed
And Vic's goodwill was taken for granted.
"I am so sorry, sir," Kimchi then said
Though deadly thoughts had been put in his head,
As invisible lines steered his motions
And wiped his mind clean of true emotions.
So quickly he moved, hand seeking a knife,
If not for JAZZ, Vic would have lost his life.
CLUNK went quick steel against musical case
"Hey, cat, cool down," said the man of black race.
"Taste my blade," spat Kimchi, slashing out wild
JAZZ countered with a punch that wasn't mild.
Two backflips and kicks, and JAZZ was pushed back
Meanwhile Vic stares confused, why the attack?
"Friends," he said loudly, "Please stop this madness."
"This leads to nothing but pain and sadness."
WHACK! Kimchi smacks Vic with a left-hand slap.
The ILLUSIONIST falls backwards. "Oh crap!"
Things come to a head, as Max lends a hand
Snapping clear wires, leaving not a strand.
Down went Kimchi, devious plot curtailed.
For the Ventriloquistador had failed.


(UP NEXT: The Hypnotits's Attempt!)

[Mautty]

Wow it was fate that made Vic a huge douchebag. Any way Im your promos more and more. I guess it helps that you are a pretty good writer.

[Action Hank]

The Hypnotits' attempt:

From outside the compartment comes a snap,
Kimchi rises and begins a slow clap,
"Good job, noble warriors, what a show,
But the fight has just started, don't you know?"
And soon two knives are brandished in two hands
As Kimchi spreads legs, entering cat stance.
There's the flash of gold as music fills air,
The Birth of the Cool issues sounds so fair,
But attacks fall short on Kimchi possessed,
And in close quarters, our heroes are pressed,
For the hypnotic spell cast upon our friend
Is far too strong for Jazz music to end.
A spinning kick and the horn is knocked free,
JAZZ sways himself back, grabs Vic's cup of tea---
Dainty teacup to knife, clank and clank click,
"What movements, what grace," was all Vic could think,
Watching 'tween fingers covering his face,
Really, as a man, Vic is a disgrace,
His brother throws punches, JAZZ throws quick kicks
Vic Powers, the ILLUSIONIST, just sits.
Kimchi proves faster and knocks them away,
Aims knives at Vic, his main targeted prey,
"Now die, you loser, you phony, you fake
As your death by knives this mongrel will make."
Kimchi lashes out to land final blow
When time hiccups, and things suddenly slow
Vic sticks out his left foot, leans to his right
Kimchi trips up, and in the space so tight
Slides right into the wall, face smashed up hard,
Once again Vic proves himself no retard.
"Good idea," he says to his dead friend's SKULL
"But what had made our friend such a dumb fool?"
Soon he'd find out, troubles have just started.
"Oh my," Vic says, as he had just farted.


(NEXT: A return to prose!!!)

[Action Hank]

Kimchi lies unconscious in a heap as JAZZ and Maxwell stand up and peer at the open door.

"This isn't good, cats," JAZZ says, looking over at the bloodied Kimchi. "We're just a trio now. If they are who I think they are, then we're against five."

"But we have an advantage," Maxwell says, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto the bench. His arms are huge and burly. "They can only get in through this door."

Vic leans back against the window and holds the DILETTANTE'S FUCKING SKULL against his chest. He pokes Kimchi with his foot.

"Dear dear dear," he says.

Then the train travels through a tunnel. The lights go out. There is a crash, and when the lights go on again, Vic is missing and the window is smashed open.

"Shiiiit!" JAZZ says rushing over to the window. He sticks his head through the broken glass and looks out. "They've taken him to the top!"

Maxwell rushes forward and leaps out the window, grabbing onto the roof with one arm as he does, and uses the momentum to swing up onto the roof. JAZZ grabs The Birth of the Cool and goes to join Max, when he's suddenly punched from behind. Caught off guard, JAZZ FANTASTIC nearly falls out the window. He grabs to the windowsill, broken glass cutting up his hands, and barely keeps from falling out of the train. Looking down, he sees that the train is on a bridge passing over a deep ravine.

JAZZ is pushed again. "Lame, man, lame!" Barely hanging on, he sees his assailant---or assailants. Several comatose-looking goons are filling in the compartment. They move with strange, puppet-like motions.

"Gonna gonna get you," they all say in the same strange voice. "Gonna make you pay for spoiling my date!"

The closest puppet goon rushes at the window and the hanging JAZZ, but the musician flips out of the way and into the air, kicking the attacker out the window as he does. As the fishing line breaks the goon suddenly regains consciousness just as his face hits rock and explodes into chunks of goonery.

JAZZ places The Birth of the Cool in his mouth but winces. His hands are shredded and full of broken bits of glass. He tears the shards out with his teeth and attempts to play as the gang of goons piles into the room.

"AUTUMN LEAVES!"

But the sounds are wobbly. A light breeze more similar to a fart than gale-force, issues out.

"Oh cat, this ain't good," JAZZ says as the goons attack.

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

Up on top of the train Maxwell races across the roof. Vic has been wrapped in bandages and chains across the back of The Rapist Escapist, who is heading towards the nearest turret. The top of the train is full of machine gun turrets, thick rows of barbed wires, goon guard posts, and all sorts of traps meant to discourage bands of roving goons from robbing, attacking, or hijacking the train.

A goon guard is mounted in the turret and is firing at the Escapist and Maxwell. The Escapist lifts up his arms and chains fly out, knocking away bullets and strangling the guard. He then climbs into the turret and turns the machine gun directly on Maxwell.

Max flips and dodges. As he does, he reaches out and with his amazingly quick hands, catches several of the bullets.

"You're good!" the Escapist shouts, though its hard to hear anything because its so windy. "Try to ESCAPE this!" He shoots some chains at Maxwell. Max dodges them and the chains clang along the rooftop.

"You're not fast enough," Maxwell Powers says, smiling. "Not even close."

"Who said that I was trying to hit you!"

Suddenly a chunk of roof is pulled from behind Maxwell, with the tips of the chains embedded in them. Surprised, Max is knocked off his feet and off to the side of the train. He manages to grab onto some barbed wire, which tears loose! Maxwell finds himself dangling from the side of the train, with the length of barbed wire as his safety line.

And furthermore, the train is rapidly approaching the next tunnel!

"Fuck," Maxwell says. "And I thought this was going to be an easy trip."

[Action Hank]

He opens the pouch and lets a single seed fall into his hand. The audience watches carefully as he places the seed into the earthen pot, delicately pressing it down into the dirt.

He waves his hands over the pot.

"Come on," he says gently. "Don't be shy."

And on cue, a green stalk raises into the air out of the pot. The audience claps, but the man only smiles and continues waving his hands over the pot. The stalk thickens, lengthens, raises up into the air. It sprouts branches and turns brown as the small plant gradually grows larger and larger until it is a small tree. But he's not done yet. He takes one step back and closes his eyes, breathing in gently. The small tree thickens and shoots straight up until it is no longer small. He opens his eyes and before him stands a fully grown cypress tree.

He exhales. The tree bends with the wind and falls apart into thousands of butterflies. The audience ahhs and oohs as the butterflies fill the air and swirl around him.

"For my final trick, I require a volunteer," he says as he lifts a wooden coffin upright. A beautiful young woman with raven black hair and milky skin instantly stands up. She is escorted to him. He smiles at her nervously. A sense of tension radiates from the audience, from the large man surrounded by guards.

"Please, step into the coffin," he says, pulling open the lid. She smiles and nods, and steps inside. He closes the coffin, and then carefully turns it around twice.

"Behold!" he says, and opens the coffin. Inside is another lid! He opens this, and there is yet another lid. Then another, and another, each smaller than the last, until he opens the lid and inside is a jewel-encrusted box, no larger than his hand. He lifts it up and shows it to the audience.

"A true treasure lies in this box," he says. "Richer than a thousand fields of wheat. Than a thousand pieces of gold." He opens it and inside is a bit of golden cloth of exquisite beauty. He pulls at the cloth and more comes out. He pulls and pulls and the foreign cloth pours out onto the ground. He makes one last pull, and it pulls the case inside out, causing it to vanish as he does, leaving him only with the large piece of cloth.

The audience claps, but he shakes a finger, reproaching them for the early applause. He tosses the cloth into the air and it floats there like a cartoon ghost. He walks around it, shaping the cloth so that it seems to be draped over a person. He winks at the audience and then pulls at the cloth.

The woman is behind it. He beams, but there is a nervousness to it. He is greeted with great applause, but suddenly the applause turns to gasps as horror as a stream of blood dribbles down the woman's mouth. She clutches her side, where a dagger handle--and thus a dagger--pokes out. She takes one step forward, tries to speak, and then collapses.

"THE PRINCESS!! SIEZE HIM!" the important man in the audience yells.

But the magician has been expecting this. He has seen it in a dream, and although he knows he couldn't escape his fate, he kicks over a table which splitters into hundreds of pieces, each becoming a poisonous asp. He has to make it to his secret workshop where his final illusion awaited him. There is a flash of light and smoke and he's gone.

"FIND HIM!" the important man shouts. "FIND THE ILLUSIONIST! BRING ME IMHOTEP'S HEAD!"

[Action Hank]

Maxwell clings to the barbed wire, flailing around in the wind. The Murder Train is moving at over 150 mph across twisting rail lines and steep grades. As it takes a tight curve, Maxwell is flung over the side and dangling in the air, his hands and arms lacerated from the barbs.

The Rapist Escapist watches Maxwell fly over the edge and then continues running down the length of the train. Two goon guards jump him, but he quickly strangles both with ropes and bandages. On his back, the ILLUSIONIST can barely breath through his trappings.

"Mmmph!" he says to the DILETTANTE'S FUCKING SKULL, which is pressed against his chest. "Mmmph, mmmph, mmmph!"

Maxwell pulls at the wire and crashes against the side of the train, barely missing one of the large metal spikes protecting it, and then flails loose again. "Oh shit!," he says into the wind. The tunnel is coming up and if he can't get control he was going to be paste.

He swings again, and swings right over the side and back onto the top of the train, however the cuff of his pants get caught and tears. At last he stands up and hunches over as the train enters the tunnel, wiping blood on his ruined pants and cursing himself. He feels a sudden sharp pain in his leg, and when the train comes out of the tunnel, finds a knife lodged into the roof in front of him. It had nearly sliced his Achilles tendon.

"Lucky lucky," sings a falsetto voice and Max turns just in time to catch a cartwheeling Castrati Contortionist and body slamming him to the roof. The Contortionist is a tricky one, and at the last moment slides around onto Max's back so that Max slams himself.

A knife lands right by his face.

"Blasted be this devilish wind," the Knife Throwing Knight says from ten cars back, lining up another knife and throwing.

Maxwell flips over in time, the knife landing right in front of his crotch. The Contortionist laughs.

"We could have been brothers!" he says, covering his mouth like a disgusting gnarl-toothed Japanese school girl. He then spins around and launches a flurry of kicks. Max blocks with his bloodied arms and winces in pain. "Or should I have said, sisters."

"Fuck you," Maxwell says, reaching out faster than the Contortionist can see, yanking out the castrati's legs. The Contortionist lands teeth first into the rusted metal roof, leaving his mouth full of shattered teeth. Max sees it out of the corner of his eye---

"Maaa buutifulll mooof!" the Contortionist shouts, and wraps himself around Maxwell.

"Beautiful," Max says to himself, and turns right into the flying knife.

"NOOOO!" the Knife Throwing Knight shouts, falling to his knees with a heavy clang.

Maxwell tosses the Contortionist off his chest, a knife lodged deeply into the Castrati's back. The little monster twitches a few times, but he's still breathing. Max kicks him aside and races down towards the front of the train, where he can barely make out the Rapist Escapist battling with several goons before dropping between the first and second cars.

Max tears some bandages off of a dead goon on his way, and wraps it around his cut arms.

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

The Knife Throwing Knight holds the bloodied Castrati Contortionist in his arms.

"It wast by mine own misjudgment that thou sufferest so, my poppet!" he says, wiping the blood off of the Castrati's face.

"You must carry on," the Castrati says. "For the mission!"

"How canist I? I shall not leave thee." The Knight lifts the light body of the Contortionist and leaps away.

[Action Hank]

The puppet goons file into the compartment and forcing JAZZ back against the broken window. He swings The Birth of The Cool at them to drive them back, knocking a few in the head. A few of the goons slump to the floor in puddles of blood and broken teeth, but for each one that falls, another enters the room.

"Damn," JAZZ says and looks down at the unconscious Kimchi. "This ain't gettin us nowhere." He then kicks up the black case and puts away the sax, strapping it over his shoulder and across his back. "Time for the second set."

JAZZ slowly begins tapping his feet. Behind his dark sunglasses, his eyes close in concentration. The nearest goon lashes out.

"De da de doooooo," JAZZ sings, and the goon is flung backwards by the force of the SCAT ATTACK. "Be do do de dooo!"

Each note strikes the next goon like bullets. Blood sprays into the air and all over JAZZ's sunglasses.

"Ski dee dee dee, ski dee dee doo!"

Bodies fly out of the doorway and flail against the opposing walls. JAZZ steps out into the hallway, his toe still tapping, his head cocked as if he's listening intently to music. He begins to snap.

"Ah, the fabled SCAT ATTACK," a bloodied goon says. "I've only heard of it. How pleased I am to force it out of you."

JAZZ doesn't listen. He's concentrating too deeply.

"DOOOO WHOP SCIT SCAT DEE!" Goons scatter like falling dominoes, clearing the corridor all the way down to an ugly, lanky man who is busily wiggling his fingers by the door to the next car.

One of the massive 7-foot tall conductor goons comes running out shouting out goonish and waving a giant hole puncher made out of two giant rusted nails from the opposite side of the corridor. He mistakenly impales a few goons, but doesn't even notice. The Ventriloquistador waves his hand at the conductor goon and catches him in a web of nearly-invisible fishing lines.

"NO TICKET!" the conductor says to JAZZ. The Ventriloquistador gargles a glass of water as the conductor speaks. "NO TICKET!"

JAZZ lowers a shoulder and races straight down the corridor.

"Doo doo doo doo doo doo sho scit scat de deep!" Goons are launched towards the conductor, but he catches all of them on the rusted nails and then lets them slide slowly to the floor.

"Thanks a HOLE lot," the Ventriloquistador says through the conductor, but before he can get out another terrible pun JAZZ rushes forward---

"DE DA!" he shouts loudly and the conductor's head flies right off and towards the Ventriloquistador, who smacks it away at the last moment. As he does so, all the controlled goons swing to the right.

"Very good," he says. "You may have bested my puppets, but I have a few more tricks up my sleeve."

The Ventriloquistador cracks his fingers and begins to roll up his sleeves. JAZZ takes a firm stance and begins to tap his toes.

"I'm going to put on a little show for you." He dips his hand into a large black bag and pulls out two giant dummies, each on one hand. "Meet Cain and Abel."

Cain is a demonic-looking dummy with horns rising out of his head. Abel is angelic, with halo and puppy-dog eyes.

"Hey Cain, why is this JAZZ such a meanie?" Abel says. His voice is sweet.
"Cain, that isn't very nice. You shouldn't call him a meanie." Cain says. His voice is gruff.
"Then what should I call him?"
"A faggot."
"That's a far worse word than a meanie."
"But at least its true!"

"Ugh," a feminine voice says from behind the Ventriloquistador. In the open doorway stands The Hypnotits. "That's just terrible. It's not even funny."

"Hey Abel, What do you call a room full of women, half with PMS, half with yeast infections?"
"I don't know."
"A whine and cheese party."

JAZZ takes his chance and rushes forward, kicking the decapitated goon conductor with a spinning kick. The conductor, who is still holding on tightly to the hole punching nails, spins in the air and towards the Ventriloquistador.

At the last moment, he reacts. Cain's mouth opens wide and rows of sharp teeth appear, each a spinning saw blade. It saws the conductor's arms right off, but the body is still spinning into Abel, who covers his face in horror. The body falls right onto the halo and is sliced to bits by its razor-sharp edge. A perfect circle of chest plops on top of the dummy's head.

The Ventriloquistador, shakes his head in anger and walks forward. Cain's arms and legs begin smoking as they grow hotter and hotter. All sorts of wild blades pop out of Abel's body. And then the Ventriloquistador gently places both dummies on the ground.

JAZZ has barely any time to react. Cain leaps into the air first, flames pouring out of his fists. JAZZ barely dodges when Abel leaps second, blades spinning and whirling. JAZZ can't fight them off! Abel's halo slashes---JAZZ's tie falls to the ground.

"Shiiiit."

[Action Hank]

At the edge of the river stands a house made of earthen bricks and straw. People stay away from it, as strange noises, smells, and flashing lights can be seen coming from it at strange hours of the night. The local children believe the house is haunted, and the brave few who attempt to learn more are frighten back by strange mechanical traps.

This is Imhotep's workshop

A man draped in a brown cloak rushes towards it. A giant mechanical asp lifts its head up to strike, but the man raises a staff and whacks it gently on its head and the snake lowers back to the ground. He then sticks the same staff into a giant lock built into the doorway, and the massive door made of bronze and strange metals groans and opens.

There is little time.

The man wanders past open scrolls depicting elaborate illusions. One shows how with quick motion and skill, one could decapitate a man and replace his head with a birds. On another table sits a strange looking wooden egg. He rushes past cages of birds and butterflies, past crates of asps and frogs. At last he stops by the back wall and presses on a brick. A trap door opens. Upstairs, that was the place of illusions and tricks. It was below where the real magic was. And if Imhotep was to survive, he would have to accomplish his greatest illusion of all. He would have to perform real magic.
----------------------------
The Rapist Escapist races down a corridor, past crates that on inbound trains would be filled with women and children. They are currently filled with marble and stone for the great city of Branson, to be used in the construction of villas for the rich. The air is thick with the smells of shit, death, and piss.

"Mmmph, mmmmm!" Vic says from under the wrappings on the the Escapist's back.

"Shut up," the Escapist says. "This would be easier if the old man wanted you dead. I don't know how you've survived up this point."

Mr. Sinistar had recently changed the orders. They could kill the others, but Victor Powers, Jr was to be brought to him, alive.

"I just wish the old bastard would make up his mind."

"Mmmmmph!"

The Escapist takes a moment to rest. It wasn't easy carrying around a 201 lb man on his back. Where the hell were the others? They should have taken care of the brother and the musician by now.

"Mmmmmm. Mmmm mmmmm."

The door opens and Maxwell comes limping in.

"So, you lived," the Escapist says. "I won't let you ESCAPE death, this time." He shoots out bandages and chains, which wrap around pieces of stone and marble and pound at Maxwell like hammers. Maxwell jumps around, dodging the blows, but his leg hurts too much, and his stumbles. One of the stones smashes him against the head and Maxwell Powers is flung backwards.

The Escapist starts to laugh, and shoots chains around Maxwell's neck, strangling him.

Suddenly the Escapist is yanked backwards! He slips and falls into a mass of bandages, ropes, and chains. He turns around on his stomach to see Vic walking away.

"How did you----how did you escape that---"

Vic turns.

"It was the DILETTANTE'S idea," he says, grinning and holding up the skull. "He was getting too hot in there."

The Escapist leaps up into the air and floats for a moment.

"TRAP!" he shouts. Strands of bandages, chains, and ropes fill the air in every direction, creating a cage around the ILLUSIONIST. One chain knocks the skull out of Vic's hand, and sends it rolling on the floor.

"NO!" the ILLUSIONIST shouts. "My friend!" He tries to rush after the skull, but his way is blocked by the cage of chains and ropes and bandages.

The Escapist laughs and picks up the skull. He looks it over carefully admiring the eye sockets. A strange smile appears on lips, and he lowers the skull down to his crotch. He pulls out his dick and begins to SKULL FUCK THE DILETTANTE'S FUCKING SKULL! THAT RAPIST!

"NO!!!!!!!!" Vic says, falling to his knees. "No!!!!"

"Oh, yeah!" the Escapist says. "Nice and smooth!" He cums into the skull and it shoots up into the air and hits Vic in the face. The eye socket is cracked.

"No." Vic says, a bit of jizz on his cheek. He looks at the skull sadly. Then his eyes roll into the back of his head.

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

"Wha---where are we going?" Maxwell asks as Vic helps him up.

"Why to see father!" Vic says, opening the door between the cars. Maxwell looks back. There is nothing in the car. Nothing at all.

[Action Hank]

JAZZ dodges Cain's fire, but winces in pain as Abel's blades slice open his chest.

"Dee---" he starts another round of SCAT ATTACK, but there's no room to concentrate or time to get the rhythm down. He gets a burst of fire to his face instead, and barely gets his arms up in time for protection.

"Hey Abel, do you know how to cook a Jazz musician?"
"No Cain, I don't."
"LIKE THIS!"

Flames pour out of Cain's mouth as Abel slashes out. JAZZ is knocked back, singed, cut, and bloodied. His hat falls off to the floor and rolls down the corridor. He kneels, breathing heavily in pain.

"Enough with the lame jokes," the Hypnotits says, turning away and admiring her nails. She looks up to see Vic and Max entering her car. She pulls out her communicator and reads the message written across it. "Oh no." She reaches down for something strapped to her ankle.

JAZZ picks up his hat and places it back on his head as the two dummies ready a new attack. He raises his bloodied arms to defend and Cain and Abel strike.

BANG!

The two dummies stop, and drop face first in front of JAZZ. He looks up shocked to see the Ventriloquistador wobbling on his feet. A knife embedded in the front of his head. He falls forward and smoke rises from the fresh hole in the back of his head. The Hypnotits is standing with a pistol pointed past JAZZ. JAZZ looks behind him to see Kimchi, a second knife readied in his hand for the Hypnotits.

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

The train passes out of the mountain passes and over scorched lands. But burned out fields give way to lush, green pastures and rich plantations. They have entered Nouveau Richonia. As the sun slowly lowers in the western sky, obscured with the smoke and smog of the cursed lands, the train pulls into the Branson station. Although under construction, the station is extravagant and haughty. Italian marble columns support the gold-trimmed ceiling. Lavish fountains pour champagne, not water. Hookers wear real furs and are surgically enhanced to all look like Jessica Alba.

The Murder Train stops. Hundreds of heavily armed guards line up around it, guns pointed outward. The ticket checker steps forward. He's covered in bulletproof armor and wields two rail guns. Passengers step off. Goons attempting to break into Nouveau Richonia to rape its riches are blasted away instantly. A few lower-classed Nouveau Richonians run forward and drag the bodies away. Those with valid tickets are free to walk past.

At last team ILLUSIONIST steps out. They are bandaged and their clothes are torn and bloodied. The ticket checker gives them dirty looks as they show their tickets. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. Such garbage, he thinks. They couldn't even dress decently. Then he stops them.

"I only see four tickets," he says. "And I count five of you."

The ticket checker gives a funny look at the Hypnotits, whose face is covered in pillow case, and whose arms are tied and chained behind her back.

"It's okay," a voice calls from behind the rows of guards. They quickly spread out of the way as a man steps forward. There is a golden carriage drawn by horses that have been dipped in gold. "Let them through."

"Yes---yes sir!" the ticket man says.

Charles Artemis nods. "Welcome to Nouveau Richonia."