Contra(dictory)
also I hang out here, I guess
Except this story will be exclusively posted on the MarioWiki Forums.
Javelin woke up the morning after Halloween in high spirits.
Well, not really. For one, he woke up mid-afternoon, and secondly, he felt pretty terrible. Turns out gorging one's self on a variety of different candies isn't that good of an idea.
He pulled himself out of his bed reluctantly and stumbled through his apartment and into the bathroom.
Javelin Noir, like many many many many many others in the MarioWiki, was an orphan. The teenager stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, noting how absolutely fucking exhausted he happened to look. He had long, black hair with sickly pale skin, and his eyes were the same jet-black color as the hair on top of his head. He had a slim frame, the kind given to the athletic and to the slackers with a fast metabolism- the latter being the case here.
After taking a quick shower, brushing his teeth, and all the other boring things he does in the morning, he walked outside.
He was dressed like every other stereotypical teenage protagonist- a large white T, torn-up blue jeans and cheap tennis shoes. Noir began to walk through the bustling city that was MarioWiki.
"Hey, Javelin!" said a random, cheerful passerby.
"Fuck off." he grumbled, just quietly enough not to be heard. He gave a bored sigh and, after some walking and ignoring pedestrians, he made it to this destination: The MarioWiki Police Force Building.
He walked inside.
"Detective."
He turned around. Smasher, a higher-ranking officer, was walking towards him. "Hey," he said, "I'm sorry about what I said yesterda-"
"It's not a big deal." Javelin cut him off sharply, "Now, what's the job today? Any new cases?"
"Actually..." Smasher said, "Yes. There's somebody we need you to investigate, to get close to. Find out everything you can about this person. We suspect he may be involved with the troll gangs on the East Side." The officer handed him an orange envelope. "I'd prefer not to talk more in public," the man said, "Would you mind coming to my office?"
Javelin shrugged and walked with Smasher into the latter's office. Smasher's office was fairly small- just a few file cabinets, a small, messy desk, and two chairs in front of it. The young detective shut the door behind him and sat in one of the aforementioned chairs, leaning forward, staring attentively at the older man.
"Open the envelope." Smasher said, leaning back.
Javelin did so.
Inside of the envelope was a picture of-
Me. Before I died.
Javelin raised an eyebrow. "Who's this guy?" he asked.
"His name's Tabuu," Smasher said, "And he's been around here for a while. Longer than you and me both, in fact."
"Then why are we investigating him now? I'm sure that people have looked into his files before."
"That's the thing...the people who do never report back."
"You mean they...disappear?"
"Into thin air."
Javelin scowled. "I'm definitely not the right person to go for for something like this. Call James Bond or some shit- this isn't my area."
Noir began to lift himself out of his seat.
"Wait!" Smasher said, "We got a message, just yesterday, from one of the people who disappeared."
This intrigued the detective. "Who?" he asked, "What did they say?"
"Well," he said, "It might not be him, but we got a message from an old investigator we used to have around these parts- Cobweb, he was called. He hasn't responded to us, and when we tried to trace his location, the proxy sent us all over the globe. Anyways, the message said 'Death isn't the answer'."
"So that's why you're getting me involved in this."
"Yes, there's a riddle involved. Find out what Cobweb was trying to tell us. Find out what Tabuu's been up to."
Javelin sighed. "Alright then," he said, "But under one condition."
"What?"
Noir gave him a bland stare.
"My mother's not a whore. Yours is."
Every update will be added to this first message, but I'll post in the topic whenever updates come up. Once the next update comes out, I'll delete that update post. K? K. Glad we understand each other here.
This is my last story.
I paused. That seemed to be a little overdramatic for an opening, didnt it? I highlighted and deleted the line, and started typing again.
My name is
I sighed. No, thats too overused.
I got to do something new, something different. Something that nobodys done before. I deleted the line.
Userpedia was snowing...
...pretty hard. Oh wait, thats an error- thats saying the city was snowing. Ive never heard of cities snowing, but Im also too lazy to go back and fix that.
Hey.
My names Tabuu. But if youre reading this, you probably already knew that. Over the years, Ive written a ton of stories- which, coincidentally, always star yours truly in a major role.
I know, I know- it gets annoying, right?
I wore a thick fur coat, baggy jeans, and a snow hat. I walked through the lonely snowy streets of New Wikisburg- it was daytime, yet the sun was nowhere in sight. Over my right shoulder was a bag carrying a large laptop, and I used the carrying case as sort of an armrest. In my left hand I loosely grasped a cup of hot chocolate- my favorite winter drink- and it was still quite warm.
This is (probably) (not) my last story involving Userpedia. Just keep that in mind. Whats it gonna be this time? Talking scythes? A war?
Nope, this is a murder mystery.
The sound of gunshots screeched through the cool, wintry air, and the snow turned red. The cup of hot chocolate fell to the ground, followed by my lifeless body.
A murder mystery, a tale about why I just died, and who killed me.
Enjoy.
I paused. That seemed to be a little overdramatic for an opening, didnt it? I highlighted and deleted the line, and started typing again.
My name is
I sighed. No, thats too overused.
I got to do something new, something different. Something that nobodys done before. I deleted the line.
Userpedia was snowing...
...pretty hard. Oh wait, thats an error- thats saying the city was snowing. Ive never heard of cities snowing, but Im also too lazy to go back and fix that.
Hey.
My names Tabuu. But if youre reading this, you probably already knew that. Over the years, Ive written a ton of stories- which, coincidentally, always star yours truly in a major role.
I know, I know- it gets annoying, right?
I wore a thick fur coat, baggy jeans, and a snow hat. I walked through the lonely snowy streets of New Wikisburg- it was daytime, yet the sun was nowhere in sight. Over my right shoulder was a bag carrying a large laptop, and I used the carrying case as sort of an armrest. In my left hand I loosely grasped a cup of hot chocolate- my favorite winter drink- and it was still quite warm.
This is (probably) (not) my last story involving Userpedia. Just keep that in mind. Whats it gonna be this time? Talking scythes? A war?
Nope, this is a murder mystery.
The sound of gunshots screeched through the cool, wintry air, and the snow turned red. The cup of hot chocolate fell to the ground, followed by my lifeless body.
A murder mystery, a tale about why I just died, and who killed me.
Enjoy.
You know, maybe this isn't worth writing a story about. I mean, I might've just been shot because I'm a dick. That isn't the kind of shit that makes the worldwide news, much less an interesting, heart-pounding tale of suspense and glory.
Let's do a flashback- it's supposed to help you understand the plot, and, uh, add some kind of unique style to this. A style that hasn't been used in any movie, story, game, or comic book, ever. This is some completely original shit right here.
Okay, I'm flashing back to a period before I died. It'd be nice of me to tell you how much time before me being gunned down this was, but that'd take all the fun out of it. It's October. No, Halloween. Everybody likes Halloween.
On this Halloween, a young man is walking throughout the streets of New Wikisburg, holding a rather enviable bag of candy and dressed in a costume tackier than the one you wore when you were seven years old.
The thing is, he's twelve. So it's not "Aww, it's so cute that kid doesn't have a good costume!" it's actually "That kid might be a serial killer- quick, give him some candy."
This young man's name is Javelin Noir, a name that hasn't been used in any of my other stories, ever, and he's a cool guy. No, scratch that. He's a dick that owes me, like, seventy bucks for all the games I lent him. Can I sue somebody from beyond the grave?
I'll talk to Satan about that.
Anyways, back to Noir. So he's pretty satisfied with himself, walking with his candy and stuff. He walks to another person's house, knocks and says "Trick or Treat!"
"Go away!" calls a loud, obnoxious voice from inside, "I don't have any candy!"
Javelin looked at the porch, which was strewn with confetti, various candies, a lit Jack-O-Lantern, and a sign on the door that said "Candy!" in big, black letters over an orange background.
He was understandably confused, and knocked once more. "Trick or Treat!" he repeated, in a slightly different tone of voice.
"Fuck off, kid!"
Javelin winced. Man, he thought, This guy's a dick.
Javelin walked away.
Smasher, a man in his late thirties, with long, brown hair and bright green eyes opened his door, dressed in a demented-looking jester's outfit. "And your mother's a whore!" he drunkenly screamed.
Noir was long gone.
What was the point of that flashback? Don't answer that, because you don't know it. Not yet. You will. Someday. Maybe today. Okay, not today. But later. Tomorrow. No, next week. Next tomorrow. Weekomorrow. In a few years. Week-years. Yeah, that sounds about right.
Let's do a flashback- it's supposed to help you understand the plot, and, uh, add some kind of unique style to this. A style that hasn't been used in any movie, story, game, or comic book, ever. This is some completely original shit right here.
Okay, I'm flashing back to a period before I died. It'd be nice of me to tell you how much time before me being gunned down this was, but that'd take all the fun out of it. It's October. No, Halloween. Everybody likes Halloween.
On this Halloween, a young man is walking throughout the streets of New Wikisburg, holding a rather enviable bag of candy and dressed in a costume tackier than the one you wore when you were seven years old.
The thing is, he's twelve. So it's not "Aww, it's so cute that kid doesn't have a good costume!" it's actually "That kid might be a serial killer- quick, give him some candy."
This young man's name is Javelin Noir, a name that hasn't been used in any of my other stories, ever, and he's a cool guy. No, scratch that. He's a dick that owes me, like, seventy bucks for all the games I lent him. Can I sue somebody from beyond the grave?
I'll talk to Satan about that.
Anyways, back to Noir. So he's pretty satisfied with himself, walking with his candy and stuff. He walks to another person's house, knocks and says "Trick or Treat!"
"Go away!" calls a loud, obnoxious voice from inside, "I don't have any candy!"
Javelin looked at the porch, which was strewn with confetti, various candies, a lit Jack-O-Lantern, and a sign on the door that said "Candy!" in big, black letters over an orange background.
He was understandably confused, and knocked once more. "Trick or Treat!" he repeated, in a slightly different tone of voice.
"Fuck off, kid!"
Javelin winced. Man, he thought, This guy's a dick.
Javelin walked away.
Smasher, a man in his late thirties, with long, brown hair and bright green eyes opened his door, dressed in a demented-looking jester's outfit. "And your mother's a whore!" he drunkenly screamed.
Noir was long gone.
What was the point of that flashback? Don't answer that, because you don't know it. Not yet. You will. Someday. Maybe today. Okay, not today. But later. Tomorrow. No, next week. Next tomorrow. Weekomorrow. In a few years. Week-years. Yeah, that sounds about right.
I know I won't be leavin' here with you
Javelin woke up the morning after Halloween in high spirits.
Well, not really. For one, he woke up mid-afternoon, and secondly, he felt pretty terrible. Turns out gorging one's self on a variety of different candies isn't that good of an idea.
He pulled himself out of his bed reluctantly and stumbled through his apartment and into the bathroom.
Javelin Noir, like many many many many many others in the MarioWiki, was an orphan. The teenager stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, noting how absolutely fucking exhausted he happened to look. He had long, black hair with sickly pale skin, and his eyes were the same jet-black color as the hair on top of his head. He had a slim frame, the kind given to the athletic and to the slackers with a fast metabolism- the latter being the case here.
After taking a quick shower, brushing his teeth, and all the other boring things he does in the morning, he walked outside.
He was dressed like every other stereotypical teenage protagonist- a large white T, torn-up blue jeans and cheap tennis shoes. Noir began to walk through the bustling city that was MarioWiki.
"Hey, Javelin!" said a random, cheerful passerby.
"Fuck off." he grumbled, just quietly enough not to be heard. He gave a bored sigh and, after some walking and ignoring pedestrians, he made it to this destination: The MarioWiki Police Force Building.
He walked inside.
"Detective."
He turned around. Smasher, a higher-ranking officer, was walking towards him. "Hey," he said, "I'm sorry about what I said yesterda-"
"It's not a big deal." Javelin cut him off sharply, "Now, what's the job today? Any new cases?"
"Actually..." Smasher said, "Yes. There's somebody we need you to investigate, to get close to. Find out everything you can about this person. We suspect he may be involved with the troll gangs on the East Side." The officer handed him an orange envelope. "I'd prefer not to talk more in public," the man said, "Would you mind coming to my office?"
Javelin shrugged and walked with Smasher into the latter's office. Smasher's office was fairly small- just a few file cabinets, a small, messy desk, and two chairs in front of it. The young detective shut the door behind him and sat in one of the aforementioned chairs, leaning forward, staring attentively at the older man.
"Open the envelope." Smasher said, leaning back.
Javelin did so.
Inside of the envelope was a picture of-
Me. Before I died.
Javelin raised an eyebrow. "Who's this guy?" he asked.
"His name's Tabuu," Smasher said, "And he's been around here for a while. Longer than you and me both, in fact."
"Then why are we investigating him now? I'm sure that people have looked into his files before."
"That's the thing...the people who do never report back."
"You mean they...disappear?"
"Into thin air."
Javelin scowled. "I'm definitely not the right person to go for for something like this. Call James Bond or some shit- this isn't my area."
Noir began to lift himself out of his seat.
"Wait!" Smasher said, "We got a message, just yesterday, from one of the people who disappeared."
This intrigued the detective. "Who?" he asked, "What did they say?"
"Well," he said, "It might not be him, but we got a message from an old investigator we used to have around these parts- Cobweb, he was called. He hasn't responded to us, and when we tried to trace his location, the proxy sent us all over the globe. Anyways, the message said 'Death isn't the answer'."
"So that's why you're getting me involved in this."
"Yes, there's a riddle involved. Find out what Cobweb was trying to tell us. Find out what Tabuu's been up to."
Javelin sighed. "Alright then," he said, "But under one condition."
"What?"
Noir gave him a bland stare.
"My mother's not a whore. Yours is."
Every update will be added to this first message, but I'll post in the topic whenever updates come up. Once the next update comes out, I'll delete that update post. K? K. Glad we understand each other here.
