Acone and Marshal sat, once again, in a limousine on the highway. Marshal held his phone in his hands. Acone slouched with his legs spread out, drinking another bottle of water. He tried to ignore the sweat still dripping down his forehead. Outside the windows, the headlights of the limo lit up the fragmented forms of trees on either end of the road. Both were totally silent, still processing everything they'd heard.

Silent, that is, until Marshal's phone dinged.

Acone jerked up instantly. "That it?"

Marshal nodded. "Uncut audio. Video's still sending."

Acone took another swig of water, trembling. He got up and sat next to Marshal, nearly falling over when the limo made an unexpected turn. "Play it."

Marshal looked down, took a deep breath, and hit the play button. He placed the device on the seat in the middle of them.

"Your methods of restraining us are broken. No magic resists our spells, and any attempts to stop this message are futile. You are weak. We are strong. We know where you are, Earthmen."

Marshal's finger slammed down on his screen, pausing the audio. Slowly, he looked up at Acone. His eyes stood out, unnaturally large in his stout face. He was the first to speak.

"That was a different voice."

Marshal nodded.

"Let's—play it again, play it again," Acone demanded, waving his arms in some kind of attempt to make Marshal go faster.

Marshal's finger slid across the glass, moving the playhead back a few seconds.

"We know where you are, Earthmen."

He paused the audio again.

"That must have been when we were yelling," Acone said, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Can do it it once more?"

Marshal complied, pausing immediately after the second voice stopped.

"Why—" Marshal began.

"Keep going," Acone snapped, cutting him off. Marshal obeyed, pressing the play button once more.

"It did not take long to find you. Not long. Your magic will belong to us. Do not resist and there will be no bloodshed. Your weapons are disabled in our presence. Even now. You Earthmen are—"

Acone took the initiative this time, slapping the pause button with his ring finger. "That's the same fucking voice."

Marshal blinked. "It... What the fuck?"

He leaned back from the phone, and into his seat. "Why didn't we hear that?"

Acone shrugged. "We were talking pretty loudly after that point. And then that kid blew that charge, and we kinda... forgot to listen."

Marshal heard his fat appendage hitting the glass again.

"...weak to our spells. Your spells are no match. If you want to keep Earth, you must—"

Acone paused it again.

"You ever seen Snakes on a Plane on TV?" he asked.

Marshal's eyebrow rose on its own. "What?"

"You ever seen Snakes on a Plane on TV?" Acone repeated. "The movie, with Samuel L Jackson?"

Marshal briefly thought that this additional bit of information was entirely useless. "Yeah. Once. I think."

"Well, when he's, y'know, cussing it up," Acone said, "they can't show that on TV. So they dub over it."

Marshal suddenly realized his point. "That's... No fucking way."

He held his head with his hand. "No. No fucking way. I refuse to believe that's happening to us."

Acone, in response, hit play again.

"...surrender. So surrender, then. We will not harm you. We desire only land and power. You will be able to live in our glorious empire, where Earthmean will be—"

Acone paused the audio once more.

"Marshal," he stated, calmly, "I think this is worse than a dub."

The administrator, who had been thinking the same thing, only nodded. They both said the next sentence in unison:

"It's a form call."

Form calls. The bane of politicians and citizens everywhere. Some marketing department, somewhere, apparently thought that awkwardly inserting unique vocal clips into a pre-recorded message would make it feel more personal. It didn't, of course, a fact which relegated it to a technique only used by the most shameless (or desperate) of marketers.

Acone slammed the play button again.

"...used as magical batteries one week a year. You will grow used to it. You have only a few months. Prepare for our coming."

The message cut out.

Acone sighed, pressing the button on top of the phone to lock it. Both him and Marshal sat looking at the opposite end of the cab, lost in thought. Acone was the one to break the silence.

"We just got sent a fucking form-call threat from wizards from space."

He turned back to Marshal.

"This limo doesn't have a bar in it, does it?"

>>1508128971 (OP)

Holy fuck, 105 images omitted? 105? It's been less than a day and you guys already made that much porn of her? Are you fucking serious?

I'm impressed, /d/. I really am. This is some impressive shit. I gotta admit, the entire "is a huge talking Equine insect" put me off at first, but apparently you people are into that. Wow.

Jumbo Man is aware of how little purple horse used my signature move, the Flying Jumbo Jet Tackle! The Yodeler has said purple horse is lame for using my move! Jumbo man does not like people talking badly about his friends! Pony is Jubo Man's friend! Yodeler talk bad about pony! JUMBO MAN IS ANGRY! Jumbo man challenges Yodeler to a match, next Monday! No holds bared! And the person who loses—MUST SHAVE THEIR BEARD!

"Another? Please—God dammit, holes? Are you serious? Do you know how hard it is to make toy figurines with holes? The modeling process is so much more—alright, fuck it, get the designers on it. Christ. We can probably get one out to production soon enough, right? I mean—yeah, still gotta get legal clearance, but c'mon, of course they'll want to merchandise their images!"

Author's Note

Eh, have another.