Another day, another game of Space Station 13. Let's see... plan for the day... Get monkeys, bathe them in radiation to mutate them, check which genetic blocks give which beneficial mutations, and **You are the traitor!** ... Dammit. Alright, plan for the day... get monkeys, mutate monkeys, check their genetic blocks, give myself mutations, find the clown, kill the clown, steal a tank of plasma, and escape on a shuttle alive and outside of custody. Buttsauce. ... ... Well, that's almost all the steps completed. Got Hulk, TK, and Heat Resistance out of it, and the clown killed himself before I got a chance to. At least I got his mask. Alright, now to wait until evac, and **Your objectives have been updated!** Fffffuck! Damn adminbus! Dammit, I'm so angry I think I'm getting fucking tunnel vision! Alright, new plan... *find Clown Planet*. Woah, what's happening? Oh god dammit, what's wrong with my screen?! *find Clown Planet.* Everything's spinning! I can't see a damn thing! *FIND* Oww! My head! I can't feel my legs! *CLOWN* Getting... hard... to... think... *PLANET* **honk honk** Ten minutes later, the station had gone from relatively tame anarchy to a complete wreck. The singularity had been released, killing off the majority of the staff just in time for a mass breakout at the Xenobiology labs. On top of all that, the geneticist disappeared along with the escape pod the engineers were souping up and the clown's body. Cuban Pete paced around the escape pod he had just stolen. He knew nothing about his situation, beyond the fact that he had to find Clown Planet. Where this was, who knew. All Cuban Pete could do was fiddle with the pod until he got somewhere. He tried a few interesting-looking buttons, taking great care not to smash the console with his hulkish strength. As he pressed the buttons, the world seemed to swim away as a loud roaring signaled the starting of the pod's engines. Cuban Pete came to as the ship juddered to a halt. The stars around here were... different. They were much brighter, almost... cartoonish. That, and there was a planet below him instead of an asteroid field. Cuban Pete remembered that he had hardly even explored this ship, and went off to check it out.

"Lookin' back. I'd reckon I shoulda jumped before I fired. Probably shoulda used the stronger rocket." Rattlesnake Jack mused to himself as he propelled through the air. "Ah well, I can easily fire more and go further up." However, his trajectory towards the Castle was interrupted, as he passed by some strange mechanical device flying through the sky. Just as he was falling towards the castle, it passed by and, he found himself landing on-top of it. Rattlesnake Jack clung onto the device, as his rocket launcher returned back to Rattlesnake Jack's 'Realm of Guns.' **"WHAT IN TARNATIONS?"** Rattlesnake Jack banged on the device with his right foot, as he held on. _Right then, well won't be too much effort to get back there._ he thought to himself, while still on the escape pod. Breathing in and out he glanced at the device. "What was that dang'ol _thing_?" He glanced back up towards the Castle. Wouldn't be too hard to get back there.

Cuban Pete's pod rocked as it landed, knocking him to his feet. When he got up, he heard *something* banging on the roof. Thinking quickly, he emptied out a nearby spray-bottle and squeaked over to the ChemDispenser. The device was rather silly for something that held so many different chemicals, looking more like a soda fountain than a piece of sensitive equipment. He filled the bottle with one third liquid Oxygen, one third liquid Silicon, and one third Hydrogen Monoxide. Swishing it around to dilute the ingredients, the bottle's contents grew thick and foamy. Brandishing his bottle of fresh Space Lube, Cuban Pete was confident that, whatever came through at him, he would be able to slip it. From then, the battle was *his*. With a sly grin, he opened the only entrance to the pod, spritzed a thick, lubey coating on the floor just in front of it, and hid behind the ChemDispenser. If this was a smart creature, it'd take the bait. If it wasn't, he'd just have to wait for the lube to dry before going out and hunting for it, personally.

Rattlesnake Jack was, not sure what the dickens happened as from the strange pod, emerged a rather slippery substance. Jack quickly muttered out, "Ah damn it.", as his boots were rather slippery from the Space Lube, as he was sliding into the craft, as he waved his arms around to maintain some sense of balance. However, he didn't maintain it and landed square on his bottom, but not before moving at incredible speeds to make sure his duster-coat didn't get this weird stuff on it, using his hands to make sure the back of it was mostly free of it. But of course, his jeans, well the seat of it anyhow, was coated in it. "Ack, my jeans." Rattlesnake Jack was now fully emerged inside the pod.

Unleashing a (silent) berserker howl, Cuban Pete leaped up from his sitting position and charged at Rattlesnake Jack. Cuban Pete was momentarily surprised that someone could be slipped and not stay still on the ground for several seconds, but got over his surpise as he charged. With a speed and efficiency alien to the unrobust, Pete wrapped his gloved fingers around Rattlesnake Jack's throat. He switched to an aggressive stance. He tightened his grip around Rattlesnake Jack (now neck!)! Cuban Pete began violently throttling Rattlesnake Jack, shaking Jack's head like a ragdoll as he did so.

"Hey! It's a Clown Buddy!" Rattlesnake Jack declared, as he did enjoy clowns. Rodeo Clowns were good people and Jack felt that, perhaps he had met a new compatriot and ally, one that wasn't a complete city-slicker. However, he soon discovered this to be wrong, as he was getting charged at by said clown. "Wai-" That is when he had the clown's gloved fingers wrapped around his throat as he was being violently throttled and shaken. Hacking and gasping, Rattlesnake Jack quickly reached to his twin guns, and took two quick shots with pepper-spray bullets. He didn't aim at the clown, as he didn't particularly have that luxury, what with being throttled, probably to death, oh and the fact he couldn't properly stand due to the strange substance he found himself slipping on earlier. The bullets ricocheted around the pod, as one bounced around in a strange manner, one even doing a small loop-de-loop in front of the clown's face, before whizzing around his head to hit him in the nose. The other, to strike the back of his head.

When Cuban Pete was struck by the bullets, he did not appear to react, beyond letting go. Instead, he keeled over and laid still on the floor, punctuated by an almost comical 'squeak' from his gigantic clown shoes. His face didn't contort in pain, anger, or even joy; instead, it maintained the same neutral expression as he left his mouth open, silently screaming. When he landed, the whole pod shook slightly. A small baton-shaped object fell from a rack on the wall, and crackled with electricity. A sharp crackle resounded from the baton, fading into a low hum.

Rattlesnake Jack took in a large gasp of air, when the clown removed its hands from his neck. He fell back down on his bottom, and slid a quite a bit as the pod shook upon the clown's landing. He placed his guns back in their holsters. Rattlesnake Jack breathed in and out, as he glanced at the Clown. "Ya'll alright pardner?" He watched as he the clown left his mouth agape.

Bee had already had second thoughts about his plan upon the start of his flight. Truthfully, he'd expected to be thrown like a ball, like when Wolverine and Colossus did it. Never mind the fact he couldn't control his trajectory, and he was doing a weird sideways spin. The man's mind briefly flashed back to all the times his dad threw him into the ocean. "Oh! Maybe I can use my sword like a stabilize-WHOOF" Bee was interrupted as a small, icy weight crashed into his stomach with enough force to send them both the opposite way. He instinctively hugged it, thinking perhaps he could turn around in air, and use it to cushion his blow. Unfortunately, Bee had zero air control, and slammed onto his back on the ledge he'd started on, sliding several dozen yards. He let out a groan as his arms slumped to the side. "That better have been an ice pack that slammed into me." he mumbled, looking down towards his chest. A small, blue girl was there, instead of the magic cannonball he'd expected. "Oh my god.... Guys? I found a kid here."

Cuban Pete did not answer, beyond a weak rushing of air. It was at this point that he realized he was struck mute by the battery of mutations he put himself through! Cuban Pete's mouth closed into a deep frown as tears streamed from his eyes. It would be another few seconds before the game mechanics would allow him to move again, but Cuban Pete appeared to be shuddering with grief.

If there were things that could touch Rattlesnake Jack's metaphorical heart, crying clowns was one of them, though really it looked more like a mime crying at this point. But there was still a gloomy clown, and Rattlesnake Jack couldn't let that stand."Don't cry pardner...There's so many jokes ya gotta do! Chin up."

"Owww!", Cirno groaned as she clutched her head and stood up, jabbing an accusatory finger at Bee, "Hey, what's the big idea? Who are you? Did Yukari send you? Oh, I bet she did, that snake! I tell ya, when I find her I'm gonna let her have a piece of my mind, gappin' me away when I was about to break through the great..." Cirno trailed off as she looked around. "Hey, where is this?"

"That's definitely gonna bruise..." Bee moaned, standing up. He stared at the fairy, catching his breath. Gently, he stuck out a hand, and placed it gently on her head, petting her. "Nobody sent me; you came here. To Hyrule. You don't look like you belong here, though." he explained, feeling his fingers grow cool. It gave Bee an idea. The suited man pulled the girls head closer, pressing it into his sore stomach. "...You. You make a great ice pack." he said, smiling.

"Wheee!" cried Okuu, free-falling from about a hundred feet up in the sky. Doubtless, anyone unfortunate enough to be caught under her would be quite unlucky indeed, given the immense weight of the control rod she carried on her arm and her foot encased in cement. But thoughts such as these did not occur to the Hell Raven, as she was having too much fun taking in the sights. A gigantic evil castle, a moat of magma, and a sky black with ill omen. It was all very pretty, just like her sweet little home in Hell. Except it wasn't Hell, and also she was falling. Falling straight towards a tiny fairy that she might have seen before and what was probably her boyfriend. My, but they seemed close. And not once during this fall did it occur to her that she could fly. Unlucky them.

Cuban Pete got up. Despite being nearly catatonic mere seconds prior, he had rocketed up to a standing position almost immediately, suffering no ill effects. Cuban Pete stared at Rattlesnake Jack, focusing on his guns. Still maintaining eye contact, he squeaked past Jack and walked to a small linoleum kitchen in the southwest corner of the pod. He cracked open the refrigerator and reached inside. Though the inside of the fridge was completely opaque, Cuban Pete managed to find two bottles of booze. One of the bottles had an unreadable label on it, though its brownish color and festive bottlecap was reminiscent of a cheap, space-themed beer. The other was a much more robust bottle, with *MAGNUM ALE* printed over it in big, friendly letters. Cuban Pete procured a glass from a nearby cupboard and shook the bottles obligingly.

"My swordsman sense is tingling." Bee said, looking to the side. "It's almost as if something terrible was about to.... oh." he looked up, and saw yet another girl, this one with a cardboard tube on her arm. "Oh fuck oh geez oh no." he said, spreading out his arms. He expected to be able to catch a girl. He expected to. In reality, he served as little more than a well dressed landing pad, the control rod giving the girl far more weight than he'd ever anticipated. "IT KEEPS HAPPENING." he cried out from under Reiuji.

Rattlesnake Jack glanced at the clown, who appeared much happier, as a clown should be. "Well Pardner, good ta see ya up and at it." Rattlesnake Jack glanced down as he maneuvered to get up, but he quickly found he was stuck to the floor below. He glanced down at the floor, as he tried to get up again. Still stuck. He just glanced down at the floor for a few good seconds, before hearing some rummaging. He glanced in the direction of the noise, just watching for a moment. He then returned his attention back to himself. He was still stuck. "Well, that's... certainly interestin'."

Cuban Pete took another glass from the cupboard. He tilted the bottle of space beer vaguely over both of the glasses, somehow filling them a sixth of the way. He then repeated the motion. Taking a swig from the bottle of beer, he set it on the counter and did the same using the Ale, only **four** times. As if by magic, both glasses turned into old-fashioned barrel-shaped tankards with a rushing, bubbling sound. Cuban Pete picked up both glasses and moved to Rattlesnake Jack, but noticed his predicament. Freeing up one hand, he knelt down and lightly shook Rattlesnake Jack's shoulder. Instantaneously, Rattlesnake Jack was back up and standing. In this pod, for some reason, the laws of physics didn't take the same hold it had in any other place.

Rattlesnake Jack, when helped back up tipped his cowboy hat towards Cuban Pete. "Thank ya pardner." He rolled his shoulders around and stretched out his arms. He kept his left arm extended out in front of his chest for a few seconds, before switching off to extending out the right arm. He eyed the glasses that the clown had brought over. Rattlesnake Jack took a wiff, and, his eyes lit up. "That booze pardner?" He asked, before scratching his cheek. "I'd reckon I oughta check on those other slickers." He grumbled out to himself as he glanced back towards the pod exit door. "Buuuut... no saloon anywhere in sight, and if'n I'm right in guessin' that there ol' drink is in fact booze."

Cuban Pete nodded, and handed one over. Clearly, Pete was breaking bread with Rattlesnake Jack, and had no sinister motives whatsoever! Cuban Pete pointed at the still-wet floor and held up his hands. One hand was held horizontally, the other was connected to the other hand by two fingers, almost like a human standing on a floor. He pantomimed the "human" walking across the "floor", before violently collapsing.