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W.C.'s D.F.'s: Case #6
Turning Off Turn Back the Clock
The following story you are about to read is purely the imagination of the idiot writing this, but it's short. Yet it does tie-in to the G-52 community. And yes, the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Chapter 1
It was Monday, 6:10 a.m. The city: Wildcat City. The psychopaths that are TBTC, or Turn Back the Clock, are only doing us a favor with their stupid acts of terrorism, because they gave birth to the idea of giant glass domes over the cities of the world protecting them, and while they wanted Lennart the Viking Lion under house arrest, it instead convinced him of why he should think before he acts. What saddens me is all the suicides they are doing recently, because we prefer to let them live to see the consequences of their actions, even if it is worse than dying.
My assistant is Andrew Stennels, the Cat with the Golden Gun. My boss is Chief Olaf Crosmond of the Wildcat City Police Department. My computer specialist is the nasal-voiced cheetah, Nick Carlton, famous for saying, "When you can't have it your way, chill!" My name is McDowell. You know me as WARCAT, the tiger who wears black and rides a Harley Davidson I proudly have embellished with the name "Fireball." I am a gunfighter. I am also a freelance police officer. Together, we make up the Gunsquad, a special unit devoted to protecting our city and its great citizens.
What is a freelance police officer, exactly? Well, originally we were our own independent unit, but we had all gone through police training and earned other credentials that gave us all the rights of a regular police offcer, provided we did not abuse these policies. The most important thing for us was to go through the proper process of obtaining a legitimate warrant on certain crooks. (It sounds like I'm referencing the Carmen Sandiego franchise, but it's true in real life, folks. You can't arrest specific crooks without a warrant, and you cannot get a warrant if you do not know what the crooks look like.) Eventually, circumstances beyond our control led to a merger, and now the Gunsquad are classified as regular police officers of the W.C.P.D. We just don't dress in the regular uniforms they do. But we each now carry a badge showing we are part of the regular police department. We enjoy what we do helping people, keeping order, and solving crimes and mysteries to keep you safe. You must do your part as well, though. However, I had wanted to be a police officer from the start anyways, and so my goal was achieved at last.
TBTC, for those who do not know, is a combination of members left out from two previous terrorist groups, all of which have been brainwashed by the CNG effects, since CNG is setting them up for their ultimate doom. Half the members were once members of STOPS, or Stop the Over-Powered Superheroes, whose primary purpose was to eradicate the G-52s and all other superheroes that exist. The other half belonged to AOFUT, or Agency of Finishing Unfinished Tasks, whose original agenda was to get the entire world under the control of the British Empire, thus "finishing what the Glaswegian Devils couldn't."
The current version of TBTC has a totally different agenda: by killing off every single citizen of the United States, and bringing down its economy with it, it will restore the world to what they believe is a better time. They preach the United States does not belong in this world because of the direction it has gone, but they're not taking into account the fact we're improving under Leo the Patriotic Lion as our President. (They're furious about him being President, though.) But this is only the pot calling the kettle black; they don't practice what they preach. Then again, when did they ever?
Nothing these terrorists ever did made sense, but when you see that CNG was involved, it doesn't surprise anybody that these idiots abruptly went from wanting to rule Wildcat City as its own stand-alone nation, but under their dictatorial hate, and not under the wise decisions of Mayor Tim Jabowitz, to wanting to destroy the entire USA, even though they have double standards. Vinnie Volare, the janitor that tried to use GLO (Green Light Operations) to destroy the whole USA with the combination of red, orange, and yellow CNG (which either starts fires or explodes like dynamite), introduced new technology in the form of his Vinnie-bots, but then turned around and said the company was guilty of wanting people to be grateful that 12% of humans get to work, leaving out the other 80%. Yes. Sometimes advances in technology lead to the end of certain human jobs; computer technology eliminated the need for telephone switchboard operators, for example. But why was he using the very thing he was preaching against? I don't understand it.
Anyways, on with the case.
As mentioned before, it was Monday at 6:10 a.m. I hadn't arrived at the office yet. In fact, I hadn't made it out of the shower yet, and already the alarms were going off. It didn't help that I was in a grumpy mood, considering the weird dreams I had the night before, but it's better to do everything without complaining or arguing. Still, I lamented, "It always rings when you're in the shower."
Don't forget, folks, that while I am mainly concentrating on my police work, I am also a G-52, since not all G-52s have superpowers, or are even superheroes by definition. I have imagined what life would be like if I had superpowers, but that's not how I roll, even though I am still a superhero by definition. (The concept really is an abstract one.) I say this, though, because the call I was getting was from the G-52 app, and unlike a regular cell phone's option to go to voicemail, this one keeps buzzing and buzzing until you answer it. So I hurriedly finished and got myself dried off and dressed before answered it.
"G-52s, Gunsquad Division," I began, since that's how I typically answer the app's calls. "This is WARCAT. How may I help you?"
"W.C., thanks for taking my call," came the voice from the other end, and she sounded worried. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"No; I was already awake."
"Oh, that's good. Sorry for calling so early, but when my phone updated, it somehow deleted the C.I.D.F. app; otherwise I would have called them first. There was a ruckus going on outside my house around 4:00 this morning. I think it was those TBTC idiots; both my husband and my neighbor have complained to the police multiple times about them. I ran outside to find them arguing with each other, and I think one was going to kill the other one."
"Why do you say that?"
"I heard one guy say something about how CNG smuggling is now mandatory within the polices and regulations of TBTC. If you refuse to smuggle it, you die. If you comply, then you'll probably still die anyways. It's CNG they're smuggling, after all."
"It is indeed. What's your location?"
"I live just off the corner of Branch and Elm, down by that Zaxby's that went it where that McDonald's used to be. I'm a daytime shift manager for that Zaxby's. My exact address is 1995 Simmons Lane."
"Thank you. Is there CNG around your house? If so, do not leave it just yet, and I'll tell the C.I.D.F. for you. They're experts at handling this stuff."
"There is, but it's sealed in a clear Tupperware container. I can't tell what color it is, though; I think it's sea foam green. I may be wrong. It's a good thing I had today off anyways." (This lady worked as a manager for the McDonald's in question; she successfully campaigned to get all the honest employees to continue to work alongside her when it became a Zaxby's.)
"Sea foam green? That's new! Anyways, you just sit tight; we'll be there in a jiffy."
"Thanks." The link broke off, and as promised, I informed the C.I.D.F., who in turn mentioned it to Super C. They have a policy that states because they come from the same original planet as Super C (Caticon), they have a duty to inform him about CNG-related cases, locally, internationally, or universally. I then informed Nick and Andrew about the case, although Nick had to opt out of it because he was recovering from a cold. That didn't bother us; he was doing the civic duty by staying home when feeling ill. But don't worry; he'd recover from it in due time.
TO BE CONTINUED
-----------------------------------------
W.C.'s D.F.'s: Case #6
Turning Off Turn Back the Clock
The following story you are about to read is purely the imagination of the idiot writing this, but it's short. Yet it does tie-in to the G-52 community. And yes, the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Chapter 1
It was Monday, 6:10 a.m. The city: Wildcat City. The psychopaths that are TBTC, or Turn Back the Clock, are only doing us a favor with their stupid acts of terrorism, because they gave birth to the idea of giant glass domes over the cities of the world protecting them, and while they wanted Lennart the Viking Lion under house arrest, it instead convinced him of why he should think before he acts. What saddens me is all the suicides they are doing recently, because we prefer to let them live to see the consequences of their actions, even if it is worse than dying.
My assistant is Andrew Stennels, the Cat with the Golden Gun. My boss is Chief Olaf Crosmond of the Wildcat City Police Department. My computer specialist is the nasal-voiced cheetah, Nick Carlton, famous for saying, "When you can't have it your way, chill!" My name is McDowell. You know me as WARCAT, the tiger who wears black and rides a Harley Davidson I proudly have embellished with the name "Fireball." I am a gunfighter. I am also a freelance police officer. Together, we make up the Gunsquad, a special unit devoted to protecting our city and its great citizens.
What is a freelance police officer, exactly? Well, originally we were our own independent unit, but we had all gone through police training and earned other credentials that gave us all the rights of a regular police offcer, provided we did not abuse these policies. The most important thing for us was to go through the proper process of obtaining a legitimate warrant on certain crooks. (It sounds like I'm referencing the Carmen Sandiego franchise, but it's true in real life, folks. You can't arrest specific crooks without a warrant, and you cannot get a warrant if you do not know what the crooks look like.) Eventually, circumstances beyond our control led to a merger, and now the Gunsquad are classified as regular police officers of the W.C.P.D. We just don't dress in the regular uniforms they do. But we each now carry a badge showing we are part of the regular police department. We enjoy what we do helping people, keeping order, and solving crimes and mysteries to keep you safe. You must do your part as well, though. However, I had wanted to be a police officer from the start anyways, and so my goal was achieved at last.
TBTC, for those who do not know, is a combination of members left out from two previous terrorist groups, all of which have been brainwashed by the CNG effects, since CNG is setting them up for their ultimate doom. Half the members were once members of STOPS, or Stop the Over-Powered Superheroes, whose primary purpose was to eradicate the G-52s and all other superheroes that exist. The other half belonged to AOFUT, or Agency of Finishing Unfinished Tasks, whose original agenda was to get the entire world under the control of the British Empire, thus "finishing what the Glaswegian Devils couldn't."
The current version of TBTC has a totally different agenda: by killing off every single citizen of the United States, and bringing down its economy with it, it will restore the world to what they believe is a better time. They preach the United States does not belong in this world because of the direction it has gone, but they're not taking into account the fact we're improving under Leo the Patriotic Lion as our President. (They're furious about him being President, though.) But this is only the pot calling the kettle black; they don't practice what they preach. Then again, when did they ever?
Nothing these terrorists ever did made sense, but when you see that CNG was involved, it doesn't surprise anybody that these idiots abruptly went from wanting to rule Wildcat City as its own stand-alone nation, but under their dictatorial hate, and not under the wise decisions of Mayor Tim Jabowitz, to wanting to destroy the entire USA, even though they have double standards. Vinnie Volare, the janitor that tried to use GLO (Green Light Operations) to destroy the whole USA with the combination of red, orange, and yellow CNG (which either starts fires or explodes like dynamite), introduced new technology in the form of his Vinnie-bots, but then turned around and said the company was guilty of wanting people to be grateful that 12% of humans get to work, leaving out the other 80%. Yes. Sometimes advances in technology lead to the end of certain human jobs; computer technology eliminated the need for telephone switchboard operators, for example. But why was he using the very thing he was preaching against? I don't understand it.
Anyways, on with the case.
As mentioned before, it was Monday at 6:10 a.m. I hadn't arrived at the office yet. In fact, I hadn't made it out of the shower yet, and already the alarms were going off. It didn't help that I was in a grumpy mood, considering the weird dreams I had the night before, but it's better to do everything without complaining or arguing. Still, I lamented, "It always rings when you're in the shower."
Don't forget, folks, that while I am mainly concentrating on my police work, I am also a G-52, since not all G-52s have superpowers, or are even superheroes by definition. I have imagined what life would be like if I had superpowers, but that's not how I roll, even though I am still a superhero by definition. (The concept really is an abstract one.) I say this, though, because the call I was getting was from the G-52 app, and unlike a regular cell phone's option to go to voicemail, this one keeps buzzing and buzzing until you answer it. So I hurriedly finished and got myself dried off and dressed before answered it.
"G-52s, Gunsquad Division," I began, since that's how I typically answer the app's calls. "This is WARCAT. How may I help you?"
"W.C., thanks for taking my call," came the voice from the other end, and she sounded worried. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"No; I was already awake."
"Oh, that's good. Sorry for calling so early, but when my phone updated, it somehow deleted the C.I.D.F. app; otherwise I would have called them first. There was a ruckus going on outside my house around 4:00 this morning. I think it was those TBTC idiots; both my husband and my neighbor have complained to the police multiple times about them. I ran outside to find them arguing with each other, and I think one was going to kill the other one."
"Why do you say that?"
"I heard one guy say something about how CNG smuggling is now mandatory within the polices and regulations of TBTC. If you refuse to smuggle it, you die. If you comply, then you'll probably still die anyways. It's CNG they're smuggling, after all."
"It is indeed. What's your location?"
"I live just off the corner of Branch and Elm, down by that Zaxby's that went it where that McDonald's used to be. I'm a daytime shift manager for that Zaxby's. My exact address is 1995 Simmons Lane."
"Thank you. Is there CNG around your house? If so, do not leave it just yet, and I'll tell the C.I.D.F. for you. They're experts at handling this stuff."
"There is, but it's sealed in a clear Tupperware container. I can't tell what color it is, though; I think it's sea foam green. I may be wrong. It's a good thing I had today off anyways." (This lady worked as a manager for the McDonald's in question; she successfully campaigned to get all the honest employees to continue to work alongside her when it became a Zaxby's.)
"Sea foam green? That's new! Anyways, you just sit tight; we'll be there in a jiffy."
"Thanks." The link broke off, and as promised, I informed the C.I.D.F., who in turn mentioned it to Super C. They have a policy that states because they come from the same original planet as Super C (Caticon), they have a duty to inform him about CNG-related cases, locally, internationally, or universally. I then informed Nick and Andrew about the case, although Nick had to opt out of it because he was recovering from a cold. That didn't bother us; he was doing the civic duty by staying home when feeling ill. But don't worry; he'd recover from it in due time.
TO BE CONTINUED
W.C.'s D.F.'s, #6: Turning Off TBTC (Chapter 1)
Full title: "W.C.'s D.F.'s, #Case 6: Turning Off Turn Back the Clock"
A departure from my typical G-52 stories, but still taking place because the protagonist narrating is a G-52 himself, this is my attempt to bring a character I almost forgot about, WARCAT, back into the spotlight. He works as a freelance police officer, and heads his own detective agency, the Gunsquad, working in cooperation with the W.C.P.D., whose H.Q. is in Battlefield Range. (The detective agency is now part of the regular police department.)
TBTC (Turn Back the Clock), a terrorist organization bent on killing off every single citizen of the USA, and thus, according to them, will make the world a better place by doing so, now make CNG smuggling a mandatory part of the operation. The Gunsquad now has to deal with one of their crazy schemes.
This is Chapter 1.
G-52s, Gunsquad, C.I.D.F., etc. © me and me alone
Carmen Sandiego franchise © Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, The Learning Company, and everybody else who owns the rights; it was originally a production of Brøderbund (or Broderbund) Software.
Story details:
G-52 organization, Drumbums, Circus of the Superstars, and other such groups © me and me alone.
Some G-52s are joint-owned by me and
Chuong; see my bios gallery for which is which.
UN1024s, AIRAF, GSAF, Royal Pagans, and other such groups © Chuong alone
D-19 ©
16weeks
Blue, Toppet Kingdom, etc. ©
BlueMario1016
G-52 logo drawn by
zakavatarz; the world of Noah and all associates thereof © him and him alone
Current icon of me drawn by
pimpartist
Any canon characters mentioned © all who own the rights.
All music, movies, or television shows referenced © all who own the rights
A departure from my typical G-52 stories, but still taking place because the protagonist narrating is a G-52 himself, this is my attempt to bring a character I almost forgot about, WARCAT, back into the spotlight. He works as a freelance police officer, and heads his own detective agency, the Gunsquad, working in cooperation with the W.C.P.D., whose H.Q. is in Battlefield Range. (The detective agency is now part of the regular police department.)
TBTC (Turn Back the Clock), a terrorist organization bent on killing off every single citizen of the USA, and thus, according to them, will make the world a better place by doing so, now make CNG smuggling a mandatory part of the operation. The Gunsquad now has to deal with one of their crazy schemes.
This is Chapter 1.
G-52s, Gunsquad, C.I.D.F., etc. © me and me alone
Carmen Sandiego franchise © Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, The Learning Company, and everybody else who owns the rights; it was originally a production of Brøderbund (or Broderbund) Software.
Story details:
G-52 organization, Drumbums, Circus of the Superstars, and other such groups © me and me alone.
Some G-52s are joint-owned by me and
Chuong; see my bios gallery for which is which.UN1024s, AIRAF, GSAF, Royal Pagans, and other such groups ©
Chuong aloneD-19 ©
16weeksBlue, Toppet Kingdom, etc. ©
BlueMario1016G-52 logo drawn by
zakavatarz; the world of Noah and all associates thereof © him and him aloneCurrent icon of me drawn by
pimpartistAny canon characters mentioned © all who own the rights.
All music, movies, or television shows referenced © all who own the rights
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 64 x 120px
File Size 8.4 kB
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