Acrylic Paint

[Proto Triose]

As I've finally gotten everything together, I felt the most appropriate place to post a second topic would be here with all the story tellers I miss reading. I hope you've all been working diligently at coming up with more stories for me to read. I genuinely miss your creativity and passion. Please do message me if you remember me, and even if you don't I would love to hear from you. Without further adieu, though, a little random short story in the tradition of Proto. One that makes absolutely zero sense I think is a perfect return one.

Acrylic Paint

Acrylic Paint. It is the name of an artist's utensil. The right hand that holds the brush. The left hand that holds the palette. The only thing missing ...
... Is the Artist.

We open, if you will, panning over a view of the globe. Not the newspaper place that Superman works at, though that would be rather comical. No, this is our world, but it isn't. The year is 3015, because it's such a neat and clean number that I just can't resist. New Old Alpha Supreme Cerulean Tokyo Photoshop is yesterday's news. I know, I know, it's confusing because it sounds so fancy and new agey. But you have to remember, Old Alpha Centurion Trojan Photobucket Tokyo was destroyed a hundred years ago, with this city springing up over night. Literally. Tokyo was destroyed so many times in all those other shows that scientists found a way to replace Tokyo by putting a lifeboat on the ground and pulling a string. Eventually they ran out of names, so they started taking corporate bribes and naming the city random words because it just didn't matter anymore.

America VI is the world's leading middle power. They're not quite third world, but since Trump took office the nation was destroyed at least three times. If you factor in Y2K and all the other stupid freak outs, that brings us to around six Americas, and since Americans aren't the most creative bunch, they just started adding numbers. The world as a whole is overpopulated to the point of torture. People stand shoulder to shoulder in the subways - not the mass transit, those are defunct because too many people tried to get on them. I mean the food stores. And worst of all, you have to wait two weeks for a chance to stand in line to receive a ticket to wait for an iPhone 46c17bx. The 46c16bx came out last month. Amazing piece of tech, but you know how fast technology progresses these days.

The problem with overpopulation was put under deep consideration by all the heads of all the countries. It was Kim Jong Ill-Rhymes that came up with the one logical solution. Two people, a man and a woman, were given the authority - nay, the RIGHT - to kill whomever they want, for any reason whatsoever. These two were to be mentally unstable, and have absolutely zero qualms with pulling a trigger. Their team would consist of random hobos off the street, who would run their technology and give them poor advice in order to help decrease the surplus population.

These two, Martin and Rosetta, were to be code named Acrylic Paint. This is where our story begins.

Lord of the Matrix United: A New Hope

A man slapped a thick file onto the desk in front of Martin, who had his hands at his sides, gripping the sides of a chair. The chair across from him squeaked slowly, like nails on a chalk board, as a man in a black suit pulled it out. Sitting calmly in front of Martin, he took a deep breath, taking his sunglasses off and setting them on the table.

"Dear God, thank you."

"For what, Mr. Gamgee?" The agent spoke with precise language, no hint of an accent.

"For taking the sunglasses off." The Agent drummed his fingers on the table, frowning. "Oh don't get all pissy. Who wears sunglasses inside, anyway?" whack "Ow, was that -" whack "It just doesn't make sense is all I'm saying."

"Indeed. Mr. Gamgee, we brought you here because it appears that you are living two lives. In one, you are a mild mannered gardener who lives in a hole. You help your neighbors with their plants. You take out their garbage. You are the spitting image of the type of person everyone wants to be around."

"Damn straight." Martin, whose last name was definitely not Gamegee, sat up with a grin on his face, showing off pearly whites that literally flashed. Like a damn cartoon, if you know what I mean.

"In the other, you are the One. The bearer of the ring. The one ..." The Agent leaned forward, flipping through pages until he found the one he'd clearly been looking for. Reaching to the side, he took his sunglasses, slowly bringing them back to rest on the bridge of his nose as he spoke. "Who bears the ring. One of these lives has a future, Mr. Gamgee."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"The other, does not." The Agent held up his hand in a fist, freezing in that position.

"I'm confused." Martin tilted his head, then in a fit of something like tourettes, he lifted his gun and fired it, killing one of the guards standing behind him. No one moved or said anything as the body fell to the floor. No blood came out until it hit the ground, then a gratuitous amount of blood started draining into the floor under the desk. More than a human body should hold. Still they sat in silence, until the Agent screamed in ecstacy. A gun barrel exploded from between one knuckle, a lightsaber growing from between another, and a blade schniked out of the last. The Agent's eyes started glowing a fire-like yellow.

"I am Weapon Agent Vader Soromon, you ungrateful -"

But he was cut off by a voice screaming from outside, in a scottish accent. "Doon't say it!" The door was kicked open, and a dwarf with a poofy orange afro burst into the room, his hair bobbing about, defying the laws of physics. Unless you were talking boob physics in an anime, then I guess it was following those laws pretty well. "It's coopyrighted!"

Everyone there turned and looked at the dwarf in confusion. The short man stomped into the room, snapping off the gun barrel and all the other gadgets attached to the Agent's hand. "This will cost us entirely too much to keep the show going! You must stop now!"

Martin took a deep breath, standing up. But he only yelled "GACK" and shot Weapon Agent Vader

ATTENTION. THE REMAINDER OF THIS SHORT STORY HAS BEEN CANCELED DUE TO COPYRIGHT VIOLATION. UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE, ACRYLIC PAINT WILL NOT BE POSTED OR ADDRESSED. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AS THE RESPECTIVE LAWYERS BATTLE IT OUT IN THE COURT OF LAW.[/i][/font]