NSWRPF Archive IDS: The Internet Service You Take For Granted

IC: As Bruce Lee
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His cohorts really weren't doing anything...and he had to take a dump.

"Hey dudes....I gotta take a dump." Bruce said, thinking they wouldn't mind.....

....now to make a hole.

Vegeta will be so pissed off when he found that him, Bruce Lee, was also the inventor of the Kamehmaeha wave, one of his many abilities.

He ddn't even have to recite those lame words...he just outstrected his hands...and a bright, really big, blast, tore a hole 10 miles wide.

He then did his bussiness.
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TAG: McGee, Veers

IC: Zeus
Snow Covered Mountains

"You there!" boomed a voice from the clouds. "Bruce Lee! You violate the laws of the Earth."

A sign suddenly appeared in front of Bruce Lee that read No Pooping. Violators will be struck.

And a lightning bult plummeted from the sky towards Bruce Lee.

Tag: Players!

IC: As Bruce Lee
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"You there!" boomed a voice from the clouds. "Bruce Lee! You violate the laws of the Earth."

"Come on....don't take it seriously..." Bruce Lee said, trying to negogiate with the Zeus, god of the sky.

A sign then appeared on the ground... Bruce was really more concerned about the bolt.

".......laaaaaame."
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TAG: Everyone in this merry gang of man

GM Approved

Name: The Joker
Age: perpetually 30s
Gender: Male (just barely)
Appearance: [image=http://www.mustangmods.com/data/15295/joker.jpg]

Name: Mr Spock
Age: mid- to- late 30s
Gender: Male
Appearance: [image=http://www.daystech.com/picture_library/spock.gif]

OOC: UP AND AWA...OY!

Update coming soon, folks.

This whole having a life thing is weird.

OOC:

What about solo sex?

IC: Will Smith
Location: Bel-Air, California

Will Smith had been running for hours. His legs grew weary under his continuous trek, but he knew he had to do something. He had gone to sit on his throne as the prince of Bel-Air...but little did he realize that Bel-Air had been infected with the T-Virus.

"Oh God, oh God no...!" he mumbled, stumbling quietly into an abandoned house. He scurried to the upstairs bedroom and locked himself in, securing the windows. The zombies would find him eventually, but he just had to keep away from them long enough...

Will Smith's mind wondered back to his cheery home in West Philadelphia where he had been born and raised. His thoughts turned to those days that he would play basketball outside the school, just chilling out, maxing, and relaxing all cool. He had a peaceful, if urban, existence, but this had been ruptured when those guys came -- those guys that started trouble in the neighborhood. He had gotten into one little fight and his mom got scared and sent him to live with his auntie and uncle in Bel-Air.

He remembered vividly begging and pleading with his mother to not make him move but she had remained adament. She handed him his ticket and suitcase and sent him off with a quick kiss on the cheek. He had boarded the airplane, and, for a moment, things weren't too bad. Drinking orange juice out of a champaigne class? Maybe things would be alright in Bel-Air after all.

But he had landed and whistled for a cab, and when it came near he saw that the license plate said "Fresh" and it had dice in the mirror. If anything he could have said that this cat was rare but he had figured, "Nah, forget it." And told the cabbie to drive to Bel-Air.

He had pulled up at around seven or eight and told the driver that he would see him later and readied himself to sit in his throne as the prince of Bel-Air. That's when...when the zombies came.

Smith shook his head distastefully and turned back on his Global Communicating Device. He headed into a sub-menu called "EMERGENCY STUFF" and clicked on a button that said 'IDS'. He was ordering a gun in order to fight the zombies. He needed that gun. Yet, more importantly, he needed the Internet Delivery Service.

Tag: Reynar_Tedros and co.

IC: Christian Bale
Location: Throne of the Gods

Christian Bale was bored. Oh boy, was he bored. He was so bored, that he decided to intercept a transmission from Earth to a system called the Internet Delivery Service. Christian Bale loved the internet, as he had gained many followers from the wonderful piece of technology, including one such devoted follower from a website called TFN. He would reward this Tedros when he found himself before the throne of the mighty Bale. But now, to the interception.

It was a message from one Will Smith. Will Smith? Bale thought. Hitch? ZOMG no wai! Pulsing with excitement, Bale read the message. Apparently, Will Smith needed a gun to fight off some invading zombies. A gun? Bale thought. Aw hell naw, I'll give him three and an extra arm to wield them all. And with a flick of his wrist and a bit of pain from his carpel tunnel (Guitar Hero XII was one tough game), it happened.

Tag: sword_of_raditz

IC: Will Smith (now wielding a gun)
Location: Bel-Air, California

As Will Smith waited for a reply from IDS, he suddenly felt as if his message had been intercepted. It wasn't that he had some sort of physical contact with the binomial code that was hurtling through space carrying a message, but it was that his watch suddenly began to glow, and he knew he was in the presence -- or, at least, his message was -- of an awesome deity. This deity could only be one person, and one person only. If you were to question how many different people this could have meant, you would have also narrowed it down to only one. Only one single person. Like, if you took the number one, and put it to the first power, or maybe even the zeroth power, you'd end up with the same answer. The same thing, no matter what. Just one. One person. It could only be, after all, one person. There was no doubt in his mind that of all the billions of potential candidates open for this possible occurance, he knew that only one of them was the right answer. It had to be just one person. One man. One. And only one. Not two, or possibly even four, but one, just one.

It had to be Christian Bale.

Suddenly a third arm wrenched itself free from his stomach, wielding a gun. The sky parted into an icy blackness and down from the heavens (and through a roof) came two more guns, landing straight into Will Smith's hands. It was destiny, perchance. But, alas, it must be fulfilled.

Will Smith burst out of the window, his guns firing infinite ammunition aimlessly about. He yelled and screamed and shouted and screeched, realizing that they would come. Oh, how they would come. By the hundreds -- nay, the thousands -- they would march, marching towards him. And when that happened, he would be ready.

Or doomed to a slow, agonizing death. Either one.

Tag: ZOMBEHS