MORGANFOKKER SAYS THAT YOU ARE NOT BEING HONEST

A Book By Any Other Name...

"What's this?" Max asked, staring at the book. It was sitting on the coffee table; he reached over and picked it up. The cover declared the book to be Tempest Of Times by Shakespear.

"Something I picked up at a yard sale," Frank replied. "I saw it there and it intrigued me. You know how most of the time what-if's and what-not's seem to be the norm, seeing this book by Shakespear was a kick. So I picked it up."

The book enraptured Max; it looked ancient and out of place. And the feel of the cover didn't feel normal at all.

"I know things change all the time," Frank continued. "That material things in our possessions change and the like, but that book has been through several changes with me now..."

"And you don't find that odd?" Max inquired.
 

"Well no," Frank said. "We stay together, and you usually have Joy and Pain, there's Maggie's katana, Suki's godhammer... If some of our weapons survive the changes why not a book?"

"This is significant," Max answered.

Max dialed the Professor's number.

Another Version

Max awoke to the sensation of his oxygen being cut off. His eyes flickered opened to see someone's knee across his windpipe and he felt a gun barrel pressed against his temple. He knew that this day was bound to happen, since his senses kept on getting whacked after each shift. 

"Hi Max," the chirpy fellow said. "Remember me?" The one with the advantage was dressed in an orange shirt that declared him to be property of a jail somewhere. 

Images flashed through his mind like a slideshow downloaded by Microware. Still no recognition came to him. 

"C'mon Max," the fellow said, sounding dejected now. "After all we've been through, I'm hurt!" 

As the knee let up from Max's windpipe he garbled, "I'm not the version of Max that you know."

* where is max cube?

version x.2

Where Dreams Do Not Go

Mags walked out of the bedroom. Lately, she had trouble sleeping at night and she couldn't fathom why.

She made a cup of coffee, using the one-cupper on the counter. She needed to taste the oils once again; it was a soothing comfort.

The cupper signalled that it was finished with a huge gurgle. She took the cup and put in two sugars and a dash of cream for colour. With cup in hand she stood out into the balcony.

The cool breeze was a comforting blanket around her; she saw the steam from the coffee rise and dissipate like sailors on shore leave. It was a cloudless evening and she could see the stars shining ever so brightly in the velvet sky.

"It is a beautiful evening, isn't it?" Trump asked. He was sitting on the railing staring over the vast city.

"That it is, my good friend," she replied after she took a sip from her coffee.

"Having those nightmares again are we?" he asked.

"I rightly don't know," Mags replied honestly.

Before the Shifts

Berlin 1994

Her eyes opened, against the light of the lamp. It had been such a deep sleep, she couldn't remember the last time she slept liked that. Her arm reached over to drape across the body that was next to her, but it wasn't there at all.

"Max?" 

Peering around the room, she saw him. He was standing in front of the open window looking out at the city below. His hands clasped behind his back like a sentry on duty, the military training still hadn't waned from his personal life. Not yet, and she doubted that it ever would.

"Yes?"

"You are going to have to leave soon," she told him.

"I know," he replied. Still staring out the window.

"You know you have the power to stop this," she said.

"I know," Max stated. He turned to look at her. "But it's a decision that I had made."

"We can fight it you know," she said.

"I don't want you to," he told her. "This is something that I have to do."

A Game of Bullets

Goner laid there with blood seeping around his body, due to the three bullet holes that had hit him in the chest. He was alive, but he didn't know for how long. Frank had ran over to him as Angst laid down a covering fire.

"Frank," Goner coughed up. "You stupid bastard, you are going to get killed."

"Shut up," Frank ordered him. "I'm not letting you Sean Bean on me."

MORGANFOKKER SAYS THAT YOU ARE OVER-ESTIMATING YOUR IMPORTANCE

Tool Meet Job

He ran his rough, calloused hand over the smooth surface of the structure. It glinted like the blade of his sword. 

"I've had dreams of things like this," he said. "The dreams feel old... Older even than my memories." 

"You're a strange guy, Aki," Max said as he watched his friend study the large object. 

Akimoto turned with a smirk. "What's that story about the pot and the kettle?" Max returned the smirk. "So... What is it?" the warrior asked finally. 

"It's called a spaceship. They're really useful for fighting aliens." 

Akimoto nodded. "Good thing, with that horde of invading monsters descending from the heavens." 

"It seemed appropriate."

 

* who is max cube?

version x.1

The Cookie

INT. 'GOOD TOMES, GOOD TIMES' - DAY

GONER is sitting at a table with a laptop before him. He's scrolling through a website, his fingers dancing around the keyboard. MAX is sitting off to one side, a smoke before him as well as a cup of coffee.

MAX:

Anything at all?

GONER:

Just give me a few more seconds. Let the program do it's job.

MAX:

Time is of the essence here.

What Mysterious Awakenings Await Thee

Maggie opened her eyes and found herself lying submerged in a tank. She was in a sea of colorless liquid, but somehow she was breathing. Her first reaction when she became aware of her surroundings was of panic. She tried to move but a jolt went through her limbs - that's when she realized that she was held by a pair of manacles.

"Not again," she muttered to herself, though her voice sounded foreign to her.

When Maggie moved small electrical jolts warned her of the consequences of her action. She was naked and covered with electrodes and wires. 

"She's aware," a female voice announced. 

"That was sooner than we expected," said another female. "Page the good doctor and let him know Magenta Blue is a go."

Maggie pulled at her restraints only to be greeted with another jolt of sharp pain that made her wince.

"No sudden moves, Magriel," said a voice. He stepped forward and a cold smile crossed the frozen wastes of his face. 

"The more you move, the stronger the jolt," he warned. "And we don't want our star pupil to be dead before we begin."

"Well, now that you have my attention. Who are you?" she questioned.

"My name is Morganfokker and I would like to officially welcome you to this plureality."

"Should I know you?" Maggie questioned.

"Maybe," his answer was short and curt. He touched the glass tank, looking down at Maggie in a hungry sort of way. "I've been searching for you for a long long time."

The Smell of Lemons

Angst slid across the tile floor on her belly, keeping the uzis trained at the turnstile. She expected to see the beasts the moment she revealed herself, but there was no sign of activity anywhere. She rolled over to the bench when her momentum slowed down.

"Well," Dexter said. He was at the men's washroom door peering out. "Did they go?"

"I think so," Angst replied. She scanned the platform once more, sniffing the air as well. Their was no smell of lemons. "Maybe they can't stay in this realm for long."

Dexter stepped from the washroom, bat in hand peering around the platform as well.  "Mofo's don't know who they are dealing with.