Sonichu Cwcville Vice [A Sonichu Fanfic] -

[Broseph Stalin]

Hai! This is the first chapter of "Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost", a Sonichu fanfic I'm working on when I'm bored out of my mind. It's the tale of a meth cook named Rock on the run from his old boss. Right when he thought he had a clean break, a near fatal car accident left him stranded in the middle of the Virginia wilderness, only to be picked up by a mutant electric hedgehog pokemon and his girlfriend. Or sister. Or whatever the fuck Rosechu's actual relation to Sonichu is. Anyhoo, enjoy!

EDIT: Like Cwcville itself, it's going to be batshit crazy as fuck. You've been warned.



Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost
(Too lazy to photoshop together a decent logo)


Chapter 1: Rock


So you're probably wondering who I am, where I'm from, and all that crap. I go by Rock, a nickname given to me by my old boss when I worked for his drug cartel. That was back when I had something close to a job, when I felt like a somebody. Where am I now? A trailer in the middle of the southern California desert. How did I get here? Well, I guess it's time for a crazy and long story.

It all happened back when I was working in east Fargo, North Dakota for Cheqwan Fandango, pimp lord of the space vikings and leader of the East Fargo Rollas street gang/drug cartel/prostitution racket/mafia/whatever the fuck else old Cheqwan wanted them to be known as. I was pretty much the only white dude there, but goddamn was I good at what I did: Cooking meth. I was obsessed with it. Not addicted mind you, but obsessed with synthesizing the product. I was good at what I did. I made good money and I knew how to cap a bitch if I had to. Can't say I was too good of a shot though.

Well, it all went downhill when Cheqwan started to do some downsizing. A lot of people got cut. Enforcers, dealers, informants, and even people like me. I was an iron chef when it came to cooking meth, and in his madness Cheqwan decided to put a hit out on me. So I stole one of his prized pimpmobiles, a pimped out supercharged 1955 Cadillac Eldorado, from his mansion outside of Fargo and hit the road. The trip wasn't an easy one. Cheqwan had people on my tail, trying their best to track me down and put two slugs in my dome. I drove through Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, and Kentucky, just to try and escape Cheqwan Fandango, but his men were relentless. It was when I came to Virginia that shit started to get real weird.

I was in the middle of a Road Warrior style chase scene and shootout. After flipping a van with a machinegunner firing at me from the sidedoors, there was a weird flash. Everything was quiet all of the sudden. The road sign in front of me read: Cwcville, 10 miles. “What the fuck is Cwcville?” I said aloud as I fumbled through the pockets of my jeans, trying to find my phone and see if I could pinpoint my location.

As I looked up at the road in front of me, I screamed “Shit!” and slammed on the breaks as two rodent like creatures, one yellow and the other pink wearing a red dress, ran toward my car (Technically Cheqwan's car, but finder's keepers and all that shit) and barely missed it. Panic swept across my body as I tried to control the swerving car.

It violently went off the road and into a brush, crashing through bushes and small trees till it finally hit a mighty oak tree. My head slammed against the steering wheel, knocking me unconscious. To this day, I wish I hadn't been wearing a seat belt. Because I would have rather been dead than have to experience the nightmare to come.

“Oh no, Rosechu!” Sonichu shouted as he slammed his heels to the gravel of the road, stopping and turning around. “It seems we cause that poor motorist to have an accident!” He bolted off across the road and toward the wreck as Rosechu followed behind him. “Oh Sonichu, how could we be so careless?” Rosechu cried out as they came upon the crash.

“It's ok, Rosechu. Just remember what Joseph said about forgiveness and all that!” Sonichu said with a smile, completely oblivious to the potential murder scene that lay before them. The two electric mutant rodent hedgehog things approached the car wreck as they scouted for signs of life in the darkness. Black smoke started to poor out from the hood of the car before it caught fire, illuminating the scene and revealing my unconcious body. “Look, Sonichu. There!” Rosechu said and pointed at the front seat. “Wow, Rosechu! I don't think I've ever seen this human before. Let's take him back to town and get him back on his feet! Father has to see this.”

And so the one called Rosechu picked me up and sat on Sonichu's head before the electric hedgehog mutant thing sped off to Cwcville, a city of insanity and broken dreams, where a manbaby reigned with supreme authority over its denizens. Yes, my friends. This story is about to get even crazier.

 

[Pikonic]

Re: Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost. Chapter 1 [A Sonichu Fanfi

I like it, an outsider viewing CWCville as it really is.
I look forward to reading more.

 

[AtreyuFalcor]

Re: Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost. Chapter 1 [A Sonichu Fanfi

I love it! Kid your gonna be a star!

But seriously I like it. Maybe you can explain why the mayor has been AWOL for so long. Have the PVCC finally taken over in his absence?

Is there clear moral alignments? Or is morality a gray area for the sonichus, Chris-chan, and the PVCC denizens?

 

[Dollars2010]

Re: Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost. Chapter 1 [A Sonichu Fanfi

This is gonna be good.

 

[Ronichu]

Re: Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost. Chapter 1 [A Sonichu Fanfi

If you finish this, I will make it into a proper paperback through Createspace (if you want me to). I can even design up a fancy cover for you.

 

[Broseph Stalin]

Re: Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost. Chapter 1 [A Sonichu Fanfi

Thank you all for the comments! I didn't think that I'd get this kind of a response after just one chapter. o_O Chapter 2 probably won't be posted till either later tonight or tomorrow, depending if I can finish up some schoolwork in time and still have the energy to finish/proofread Chapter 2. Now to answer a couple of questions!

I love it! Kid your gonna be a star!

But seriously I like it. Maybe you can explain why the mayor has been AWOL for so long. Have the PVCC finally taken over in his absence?

Is there clear moral alignments? Or is morality a gray area for the sonichus, Our Pet Lolcow, and the PVCC denizens?

I'll try no to spoil too much of the story.

1. The story takes place a few months after the events of Sonichu #10 or #11. Whichever one Chris published last, I can't remember. The PVCC failed to topple the Chandler dictatorship and are recovering from their defeat in Sonichu #10. Cwcville also sustained damage during the attack, nearly destroying the already fragile economy and rendering a third of the population homeless. While the story won't exactly pick up in present day explaining Chris's sudden absence, it will however detail the events leading up to his abandonment of Cwcville as well as the aftermath. ; )

2. As far as morality goes, Chris is pretty much the same envious, greedy, arrogant, power hungry manchild ruler he was. The Sonichus of the Chaotic Combo still carry out is will without question. However, later on in the story Sonichu will start to question himself and his actions after a personal blow is dealt. The PVCC is the only resistance group trying to overthrow the Chandler dictatorship, yet their numbers are slowly dwindling.

If you finish this, I will make it into a proper paperback through Createspace (if you want me to). I can even design up a fancy cover for you.

Heh. Let's not get too far ahead now! Thought I'll definitely keep the offer in mind.

 

[Broseph Stalin]

Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of Rock's fucked up journey through the totalitarian city state of Cwcville. In this chapter: Rock gets wallet jacked and shit.



Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost


Chapter 2: Welcome to Cwcville



I awoke hours later in a daze. My head felt like someone took a ball peen hammer to it. I was in a jail cell of some sort, but it seemed more like a decontamination room from some science fiction movie. I looked ahead and saw a large figure lurking in the shadows. There was a high pitched chirp, like a little five year old kid saying “Hmm...” as the figure moved forward, breathing wheezily with every step he took. He finally came to the light, revealing himself. It was truly a terror to behold. Before me was a man with thin, greasy, unkempt hair. The only attire he wore was a pair of blue jeans and a grease stained long sleeved red and white clown shirt. There was a medallion around his neck, like some kind of yellow Sonic creature's head. “Mm... Hello there uh...mister.” He said to me in a rather high pitched tone. I could tell he wasn't all there. “I'm Christian Weston Chandler, mayor of Cwcville.” He said. “What brings you to our fine lickle-- lit-- uh little town?”
“I uh...I'm just passing through, looking for a place to settle down.” I said.

“Hmm...” Chris chirped as he looked through my wallet. He opened the billfold and pulled out the last $1500 I had to my name, stuffing the 100 dollar bills into his jeans when I was looking at the crayola drawings around his office. His acne riddled, grease stained face lit up with joy when he found the photos I had in there from better times with Cheqwan Fandango's crew. “Gee willickers!” Chris exclaimed in a joyful but creepy tone. “You must get a lot of china!” He threw the photos at me and I picked them up off my lap. I had no idea what he meant by “china” then. At first I thought he meant like China plates or Chinese food, the latter of which I scarfed down almost constantly since my wife left me.

“China?” I said with a raised brow. Chris giggled like a child as he tapped his fat, stubby finger against the pictures, rubbing them against the one of Cheqwan's bottom bitch giving me one of the best lapdances of my life. “CHINA!!!” Chris said again. “Y'know. China! Mmm...sweet, warm, holy china.”
“China... China...” I muttered to myself. Then it suddenly hit me. “Chi-- Oh! You mean, uh, like a vagina? Pussy?”
“Yes! Yes!” Chris said as he hopped up and down. “Can you please help me find my sweetheart, sir? All I want is a boyfriend free girl.”
“Well, actually...” I began. Chris was still staring at me with those dead fish eyes, smiling at me as he breathed heavily. “Well, the thing is, a friend introduced me to those girls. And said friend is kind of not on good terms with me anymore so uh...yeah...”

Chris's face fell, like he found out he had cancer. “Oh...” He muttered, his upper lip trembling a bit. I could tell he was trying to get me to feel bad for him. Almost immediately he regained his composure. “Alright, well uh...hmmm...I'll uh...just have Sonichu show you to your room at the soup hotel.” Christian said as he snapped his fingers. Sonichu burst in through the doors, running over to Chris. “Hello father!” Sonichu said with glee. “How is our new guest?”
“He's settling in just fine, Sonichu. Show him to his new home, Soup Hotel 17.” Chris said smugly.
“A soup hotel? We could get Ms. Allison to set him up with a house!”
“Mmm...nah. He came here with no money.”
“Whoa, whoa, wait.” I interjected. “I've got like, a thousand bucks in my wallet.” I grabbed my wallet and opened the billfold, but I was shocked to find that my money was gone. “What the fuck? It was right here!”

Sonichu handed me a handful weird looking coins with a large red W stamped on them. “Here you go, sir! Have some W quarters on the house!” Sonichu said with a smile. I looked at them for a few moments and slipped them into the pocket of my hoodie. “Uh, cool. Thanks.” I said. Then my ears rang when a loud siren blared in the room. “Uh oh, it sounds like the city is in trouble!” Sonichu said.
“No time to lose, Sonichu! Let's roll out!” Chris said as he placed his hands on the Medallion. “Electric...Hedgehog...Power!!!” In a flash the fat manbaby that stood before me turned into...well, a fat manbaby wearing ripped bluejeans, a blue furry headdress with a facehole, and tons of blue body paint. Chris and Sonichu sped off through the window, running off at insanely high speeds toward smoke rising from a part of the city.

I stepped out of the clear cell like structure and into the office, walking toward the window and gazing out at the view. It was an entire metropolis, almost like Detroit, Chicago, or some other large American city. What creeped me out a little was the constant references to “CWC”. Above me was a large blimp advertising something called “CWC Cola”. There were other buildings with the same three letters, all sounding the same. CWCee Dees, Cwick City Gym, and Cwick-Circuit City. I'll admit, I was awestruck, and surprised that a deadshit like that Chris fellow could run a city like this. But not all was as it seemed as I was soon about to find out. I turned around as I heard the door to the office open behind me. “Oh, great. Another broken window.” A blonde haired woman in a buttoned red sweater and blue dress slacks came into the room. She looked at me for a moment then gave a polite smile. “Ah, hi there. You're the new arrival I take it?”

I nodded and offered my hand as she came closer. “Yeah. I'm Rock.” I said as she shook my hand.
“Allison Amber.” Her smile began to fade a bit. “I'm Chris's secretary.”
I chuckled lightly. “Let me guess. You do everything while he goes and jacks off, right?” I said.
Allison blink at me and said, “Actually, yeah. I pretty much run the whole city while he does whatever he wants.” After that there was silence for a solid minute at least. I didn't expect her to drop that one on me. “Well, uh...I guess you're going to give me a tour of the town?” I said with a slight smile. She smiled back and shook her head, beckoning for me to follow her.

“I'd love to, but my schedule is pretty much full for the rest of the day. And tomorrow. And the day after that. The most I can do is tell you where to find things.” Allison said as we went to her desk outside of Chris's office. She sat down and started typing on the computer in front of her. “You said your name was Rock?” She said.
“Yeah.” I replied as I crossed my arms.
“Rock...?”
“Just Rock.”
“Oh. Ok then. Well it says here that you're booked at Soup Hotel 17, is that correct?”
“That's what Chris said, but I really wouldn't mind a decent house.” I frowned a bit, trying to give her a subtle version of the old big eyed puppy dog look. She smirked at me and rolled her eyes. Yeah, I knew that wouldn't have worked. “Well Mr. Rock, I could if you had the funds.” Allison said. I reached into my pocket, pulling out the W quarters Sonichu gave me. “Will this cover it?” I said. Allison laughed a little and shook her head. “No, not even close. I'm sorry, but you'll have to sleep the Soup Hotel for now.” I sighed, hanging my head as I stuffed the coins back into my pocket.

“Well, could you set me up with a job?” I said, looking back up. Allison typed away at her computer for a few seconds before she said, “How about this. Come by my office the day after tomorrow at noon and we can see if we can place you somewhere till you get back on your feet.” I smiled, starting to laugh with a bit of joy. “That-- That's-- That's great!” I said. “Guess I'll head out then.” I started to walk out of the office before I turned around and said, “Hey, where and what is a Soup Hotel?”
“It's a massive Soup Kitchen. You're living in a homeless shelter, pal. The backpack we recovered from your car is waiting for you in your room.” Allison replied. Homeless again. I had a feeling that I wouldn't have the same luck I did with Cheqwan Fandango's crew though.

I walked out of the large shopping mall, eying some of the stores outside as I made my way to Soup Hotel 17. On the ground, the city was a shithole. I mean seriously, there was a burning barrel every 50 yards I walked. There were propaganda posters with phrases such as “A GOOD JERKOP IS A DEAD JERKOP!” and “MARY LEE WALSH IS A LYING WHORE!” with a caricature of a woman in a purple dress with gray hair wearing a viking helmet. The Soup Hotel wasn't any different from the rest of the buildings. It was taller and guarded by men in riot gear. I approached one and told him my name. “Follow me to your quarters. If you deviate from the path you will be shot on sight.” The guard said as he escorted me at fucking gunpoint through the “Soul Hotel” as it's called. Very few people looked like actual homeless. Like the kind you see at gas stations and shit. No, these people seemed like regular citizens that have fallen on very hard times.

We finally came to my room, Room 419. The guard opened the door and shoved me inside, closing and locking the door. “We're on lockdown till Mayor Chris finishes his grand battle with the Jerkop patrol that infiltrated our fine city. Until then, dinner is canceled and all food is to be rerouted to the Sonichu residence and the mayoral palace. Hail Chandler, citizen.” The guard slammed the door and left me to my solitude. The room was pretty bare. Nothing but a desk, shoddy wooden chair, and folding cot bed with only a pillow and what looked like a folded bath towel for a blanket. Home sweet fucking home.

I saw the backpack that Allison Amber had mentioned, lying right next to the cot. I opened it and went through the contents, making sure everything was still there. My cigarettes were gone, but my zippo was still there thankfully. That's really all I have left of my ex-wife since I pawned the wedding band. My notebook that held my drug formulas was untouched as well. I don't think anyone in the city knew what was really written in it. It was all I had left, really. Finally, there was the gun case. I have no idea, even to this day, how they were able to overlook it. I kept the key in my pocket since leaving North Dakota. I guess all Chris was interested in was my wallet.

I opened the case with the key, and there it was: my prized AMT .45 Longslide. I felt a little safer knowing that it was with me, even if it did have only one fully loaded mag. I'd have to buy more bullets for it somewhere in the city. If they even had gun shops here. With exhaustion slowly taking over my body, I flopped onto the bed and close my eyes. There were going to be rough days ahead. Luckily for me, I found the perfect partner in crime during breakfast the following morning...

 

[exball]

Re: Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost. Chapter 2

can't wait for chapter 3

 

[Hawtistic]

Re: Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost. Chapter 2

Love it. Is this current greasy tom-girl Chris or 2008 Chris?

 

[Broseph Stalin]

Re: Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost. Chapter 2

Love it. Is this current greasy tom-girl Chris or 2008 Chris?

Classic Pre-Tomgirl Chris. The greasy horror we know today comes later.

 

[Broseph Stalin]

Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost. Chapter 3

Another chapter of Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost! In this chapter: Rock eats breakfast with Inos and gets high and shit.

And I finally found out how to center. :3

Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost​

Chapter 3: Breakfast with Inos​

The sun rose over Cwcville to a new day in my Hell. It was breakfast at Soup Hotel #17. The menu: Leftovers from Cwcee Dee's. It was almost exactly like McDonald's food. Hell, IT WAS Mcdonald's food. And like a ton of the food at McDonald's, it sucked major ass. I would have killed for some fresh homemade hash browns, smoked bacon, and poached eggs. The coffee wasn't too bad though. Anyway, I grabbed a tray and got in line while the guards, wearing aprons over their riot gear, served the leftovers to the occupants of the Soup Hotel.

I sat down and started to cut into my fake eggs when a Squirtle pokemon hopped onto the table, looking high as fuck. He started inching his way toward my food, like he was wanting to eat it. “Hey, no! That's mine!” I yelled as he held the tray away from him. Then, an elderly Jamaican man came by and snatched him up. “Bad Squirt-boy, mon! Plenty o' munchies for all here.” He said as he sat his own tray on the table, letting the Squirtle eat his biscuits. “Wah gwon, mon? My name be Inos. Who yu?”
I nodded to Inos with a smirk on my face. “I'm Rock. Nice little pet you got there.”
“Who, the Squirt-boy? Chuh, he be da burden sometime, but e' would'a been euta'nised if I din't come along.” Inos replid, eating from the pile of biscuits on his plate. “Yu from 'round here, Rock mon?”
“Me? Nah. I'm from out of town.”
“Oh ya? Where from?”
“North Dakota.”
Inos laughed and slapped his knee. “Bredha, yu com'a long way! What bring yu to dis bloodclot city?”
“It's just where I ended up. What about you?”
“Tcha, mon... I be chillin' on de sidewalk one day, seen? Dat bumbaclot Sonichu snatch me up and tro' me dis place. No respect, mon. No respect.”
“Shit, man. That sucks.” I looked around, picking a piece of bacon off of my plate and slipping it into my mouth. “This place feels more like a prison that a soup kitchen.”
“Tcha! You been in da pen, rude bwai?”
“Yep. Spent about two years in a state prison after I got caught dealing in a club. Luckily the pigs thought I was a tweaker.”
“Ah, de ganja?”
“Nope. Methamphetamine.”
“You be dealin' de crystal, mon?” Inos said in a hushed tone.
“I cook it, mostly. I'd deal sometimes when I really had to.” I sighed a bit. “I kind of wish I was back in the business...”

Inos grinned at me and looked around before saying, “Meet me back at de crib, mon. I got somet'ing I wanna show yu.” We got up and took an elevator to the top floor, where Inos and his yawning Squirtle lived. His room was a bit more lively than mine. Quiet Reggae music played from an old stereo near his bed, the room reeked of cannabis, there was a beanbag chair next to his coffee table, and he had a multicolored rug. “Nice pad you got here.” I said as I sat down on the beanbag chair. The yawning Squirtle and Inos sat down on the couch. Inos lit up a spliff and passed it over to me after taking a puff. “Dis some good hedge, mon.” He said as I took a slow drag. My god, was that good pot. I haven't had a good puff of the herb since I left Cheqwan's territory. Just then, I felt like I was right at home. “God damn, Inos. Where did you get this stuff?”

Inos chuckled as he took the joint back and puffed it. “I get it from outside de city. Squirt-boy an' I got a big bad smuggling opera'chon goin' on. What ya say, rude bwai? You wan' in?” I knew exactly what Inos was getting at. “You want me to cook for you, is that it?” I said as I looked up at him through glassy eyes. “Shit, man. I'm gonna need some scratch to buy the stuff we need to cook.”
“Tcha, don' worry. I an' I know some badmen that can sell everyt'ing yu can cook.”
I giggled like a retard, still high on that bomb ass weed that Inos had. “I'm starting to like ya, Inos.” I said. “I'll uh...I'll go and...fuck, this is good weed...I'll go and buy what we need when I can find a place where we can cook. Got a piece of paper I can borrow and a pen?” Inos handed me a small notepad and a piece of paper. I started writing down a list of materials to cook with. Beakers, burners, flasks, bottles, propane tanks, tubing, all that shit. “We can't cook here.” I said, handing the notepad to Inos. “Get the shit on this list. We'll need it to cook. Hopefully I'll have found a place to cook before you've even found the stuff.”

And that was the start of it. Smoking pot with a Jamaican war vet and his stoner Squirtle while discussing a way to get rich. I took a walk later during the day and realized that this city was perfect for a meth operation. It had little contact with the outside world. Hell, I was the first outsider in a very long time. Not only that but the law enforcement seemed preoccupied with some guerrilla group called the PVCC and their insurgents known as Jerkops. I also found out that cigarettes were banned and punishable with a hefty fine. Inos was able to supply me with a couple of packs on the house. That man was good at smuggling shit into this hellhole of a city. Later that night I smoke a few cigs in my room, savoring the sweet taste of tobacco before I called it an early day. I still had to find a way to make some legit income. Luckily, that gal Allison Amber found something for me when I visited her the next day. Even if I did hate what she had in mind...

 

[CatParty]

Re: Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost. Chapter 3

these could go in one thread

 

[Dunsparce]

I merged the topics. It's a single narrative, so keep it in a single thread.

 

[Broseph Stalin]

A new chapter in Cwcville Vice! In this chapter: Rock gets a dead end job at the CWC-Cola bottling plant and meets Tom, the manager who is in denial about the current state of Cwcville.

Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost

Chapter 4: Everybody Fucking Hates Tom​

Allison Amber. If I had to choose one person in that entire city to feel the utmost sympathy for, it had to be her. What could be worse than being the secretary to Christian Weston Chandler? Her day just seemed to be doing his duties while he was out jacking off with his hedgehogs or sitting on his ass playing video games in his office. Or jacking off in his office. She wasn't like most people in this city. In fact, she was really one of the few that knew what was really going on and that there had to be change very soon. While sitting in her office and waiting for her I noticed something pretty odd: A picture of Batman. Why the hell she had a picture of Batman, I never knew. I never asked her why and I always forgot to ask whenever we met. It was one of life's mysteries that would remain unknown.

“Ok, Rock.” Allison said as she took a seat behind her desk. “Since you seem to have no job experience for someone your age, the most I could find for you is a job at a CWC Cola bottling plant.” My stomach sank a bit, but to be honest I wasn't all that surprised. I spent years as a meth cook for Cheqwan Fandango and never really held a steady job after the divorce. What was I going to say? I'm an iron chef when it comes to meth? “Well, alright...” I said. “When do I start?”
“In five hours. Just go in and talk to Tom Lopez.” She said, going back to typing on her computer.
“Alright, cool.” I started to get up and leave, but Allison stopped me.“Hey, Rock.” She said. “Can I talk to you for just a bit?” I shrugged and sat back down, crossing my legs. “Sure, I guess.”

Allison moved her keyboard aside and turned off the computer monitor. “Why did you come here? To Cwcville?” She asked me. I forgot to come up with a good cover story. I told her a half truth. “To get away from some rough people I fell in with.” I said. “Not sure how long I'm gonna stay here though.”
“You're a...?” She began.
“Yeah, a criminal.” I finished. Allison looked a bit stunned, remaining silent for a few seconds before she opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again. “I, um...whoa, ok. You're the first ex-con in this city, I think.” She said.
“Are you scared?” I raised a brow, narrowing my eyes at her.
“Wh-- Wha--?”
“I said are you scared...?”
“N-- No! No, I'm...I'm sorry, I...well, I just don't know if you're a killer, a rapist, or-- or...”
“Look, just cool it, alright?” I patted her arm, smirking at her. “I'm harmless. I'm just trying to move on with life, alright?”

Allison smiled and nodded, albeit a wary smile. “So, is there anything else I can get for you?” She said. Well, she said “anything”, so I reached into my pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and offering it to her. “I need you to get me everything on this list.” I said as she took it from my hand, opening it and skimming over the list. She squinted her eyes and raised a brow. “Red phosphorus...butane...hydrochloric acid...phen-- phenoa-- phenylacetic acid. What is this?” She said, looking up at me.
“Just some stuff I need. You know, for science.” I said with an innocent smile. She looked at me, then at the list, then back at me. “Alright, I try to get what I can. I'm not sure what you're going to use this for but...well, just don't get yourself killed, ok?” Allison said.

It was a longshot, but Allison seemed like the kind of girl that wouldn't mind getting her hands dirty if it meant getting ahead. She was at the bottom of the glass compared to what I was doing. Bottling sodas. It was surprisingly easy work but the pay was crap. That Tom Lopez guy though, damn. He annoyed the hell out of me. But something was definitely up. I went to the bottling plant almost immedietely after leaving Allison's office. I went in, asked for Tom, and out came a man with combed hair, a goofy smile, and a tucked in shortsleeve dress shirt. “Hi there! I'm Mr. Lopez! But you can call me Tom!” He said. This guy had to be manically depressed or something. “Uh, hey.” I said, shaking his hand. “I'm Rock.”
“Oh good! You must be our new hire! Well come this way, and I'll show you exactly where the magic happens!”

Tom gave me a pretty fucking fruity tour of the factory. It was obvious this guy was in denial, always telling people to smile and all that shit. Everyone seemed pretty miserable, not that Tom was a bad guy, but it really did seem like he was in denial, trying to hold on to what little sanity he had left. When the ended at his office, he handed me an apron and a baseball cap. “Well, that's the tour, Mr. Rock! We're glad to have you with our nice little family!” He said. I gave him a pretty emotionless look, blinking a few times as he smiled at me. “Can I see your smile?” Tom said. “Everybody smiles here!”

Still, I didn't smile. I was honestly surprised when his smile dropped significantly. “Come on, Mr. Rock. Just smile! It'll please Father Christian!” His expression started to change into a frown. “Please, Rock...? Just smile. That's all I'm asking.” I cracked a fake smile, more like just showing my teeth rather than an actual smile. Tom went back to his wide smile and waved. “Alrighty then! Have fun and welcome to the family!” Tom said before he turned on his heel and walked off. So I started my job at the soda plant. The pay was utter shit, but it was enough to pay for my cigarette habit and for Inos to purchase the equipment we needed. For about an entire month I worked in that soda bottling plant. It was insanity, listening to Tom boast about how “entirely awesome Chris was” and how Sonichu was “the protector of us all”. Everything changed when I got a call from Allison Amber though. The chemicals had finally came in. It was time to cook.

 

[Satoru182]

I just read all of it today, love it.

Please continue with this fic.

It surprises me that Rock didnt get freaked out by a real squirtle, does Rock comes from "our" world or the reallity in which Cwcville is? Which is kind of ambiguous also.

 

[Dollars2010]

This is getting exciting!

 

[Broseph Stalin]

I just read all of it today, love it.

Please continue with this fic.

It surprises me that Rock didnt get freaked out by a real squirtle, does Rock comes from "our" world or the reallity in which Cwcville is? Which is kind of ambiguous also.

I guess you could say that Rock came from "our world" in a sense. Obviously in the second paragraph of the first chapter he mentions Cheqwan being "pimp lord of the Space Vikings" which to be honest is pretty out there, but Cheqwan is supposed to sort of be an over-the-top James Bond style villain. The "real world" outside of Cwcville has a couple of crazy traits to it, but nothing too illogical and flat out insane like Cwcville/Chris's World.

 

[Broseph Stalin]

This chapter is a bit longer than the others, but surely nobody would mind. In this chapter: Rock cooks meth.

Cwcville Vice: Paradise Lost​

Chapter 5: It's Time to Cook​

I had everything I needed. The chemicals, the formula, the equipment. All that was missing was the piece de resistance: A place to cook. The Soup Hotel was too well guarded and the smell would have alerted the guards. Not to mention there weren't any well ventilated rooms to cook in. The CWC Cola plant was the place I had in mind. I was a good employee, not a star employee, but a good one. I had earned Tom's trust, but then again he was a nice guy. Too nice to the point where he was flat out fucking annoying, but it was better than having a slave driver for a manager. I knew I had to convince him though, get him on my side. It was during the lunch break when I was outside behind the plant smoking a cigarette where no one would see me, except for Tom who would come out to sniff the air and stare out at the city with a smile on his face for the remainder of his break. No shit, he would really do that.

I watched the door as I slowly took a drag of my cigarette, waiting for Tom to come out. As always, right on the minute, he came out with a smile on his face and walked toward his little meditation spot, only he stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed me. “Oh, hello there, Tom.” I said in a teasing tone with a grin, holding the cigarette between my teeth. “Mr. Rock, is that a...?” Tom's voice trailed off. He was trying to make sense of what he was seeing, a felony being committed in his own bottling plant. “Yes, yes, it's a cig.” I said, taking another drag and slowly exhaling the smoke in a cloud around my head. “Mmm... Nothin' like a smoke after lunch, eh Tommy boy?”
“Th-- That's a $1,500 dollar felony and ten years in prison right there!” Tom said and pointed at the cigarette.
“Oh come on, Tom. It's just a cigarette.”
“Yes, but, but...I quit a few years back and...” He stared at the pack in my front pocket wide eyed. “Can I...have one?”
My grin grew wider as I pulled the pack out and slipped the butt of one of the cigs out with my thumb, offering it to Tom. He opened his mouth, leaning forward slowly and pulling it out. I flicked my zippo open and lit his cigarette, watching him as he took a drag. “Tastes good, don't it? Something as simple as a Marlboro cigarette is suddenly on par to a Cuban cigar around here.”
“Look, Mr. Rock...please don't tell anyone. I-- I-- I need this job, for my family!”
“Hey, easy there, Tom. We're friends, right?”
“Yeah, yeah...we're friends.” He gave me a nervous smile.
“And friends do things for friends, right?”
“I...yeah, they do, I guess.”
“So... Would it be ok if I set up a little workshop in that one part of the plant? You know, the old part underground with the vats we don't use anymore?”
“Well, uh, I um...I don't see any harm in that. Why?”
“What if I told yo I could make us rich, Tom? You, me, and everyone in this bottling plant?”

Tom looked at me, then over to the plant. He was a good man even if he did annoy me sometimes. Hell, the worst thing he probably did in life was steal a cookie from the jar when he was a kid and regretted it for years to come. But he needed the money. He could barely put food on the table with his salary. He looked back at me and nodded. “Ok. Do what you need to do. Just don't hurt anyone, ok?” Tom said as he finished the cigarette and went back into the plant. I smirked as Inos and his yawning Squirtle came from behind the dumpster and approached me. “Alright, Inos. You heard the man. Move the stuff to the basement level.” I said as I discarded my cigarette. “A'right, rudeboy!” Inos said with a grin as he and the yawning Squirtle began to move the large crates and barrels of chemicals into the back loading bay.

The basement of the factory was almost like smaller version of the main brewing area. The brewing vats still worked, but needed some work done after years of being unused. This time, they wouldn't be brewing that CWC Cola crap. Just good ol' fashion methamphetamine. After Inos had set up everything it was time for me to suit up. Since I didn't have a hazmat suit, my boiler suit and an apron had to do. The respirator that Inos supplied me with was claustrophobic, but I was able to make due. Inos and one of Tom's closest men, some neat freak named Alex, kept watch outside while I did my thing. For the first time in months, I cooked. The moment I slipped that respirator on I felt alive, at peace, like I was no longer in Cwcville. If you're expecting some long poetic narrative about my process, well you're shit out of luck. Why the hell would I give away my secret recipe? I made pure glass, none of that cloudy crap tweakers cook at home. People paid top dollar for my crystal. This is what gave me status among the underworld. I was the closest thing you could get to a real life Heisenberg.

Right, anyway, I finished the first batch in my new lab. Before I even started on the next batch I had to examine my product. It wasn't as pure as the stuff I cooked back in North Dakota, but it came close. It was pure glass, at least eighty-four percent pure, give or take. I started on the next batch, using the same process. Everything went by so quickly. It felt like I was only in there for a couple of hours, but Alex came in and told me that it was already late at night. “You've gotta be shitting me.” I told him as I dropped my respirator next to the metal tray. “Nope, not one bit, Rock.” Alex said, scratching the back of his head. He ran his hand through his short cut blond hair as he looked over the meth I cook. “Wow...” He said, leaning closer. “What is this?”
“It's methamphetamine. Pure glass methamphetamine, to be exact.”
“You do know that this is pretty much a death sentence or life imprisonment for you, right?”
“Oh come on,” I scoffed, leaning against the table. “Maybe half a decade in the pen, but that's it.”
“Maybe where you come from, but around here Chris runs a real tight ship.”

The more time I spent here in Cwcville, the more crazier the laws sounded. No homos, no cigarettes, no marijuana, Jim Crow laws, and all sorts of backassward shit. I shrugged and patted Alex on the shoulder. “I'm careful, Alex. I'll be fine.” I said as I loaded the bags of meth into my backpack. “So how much is that?” Alex asked me.
“How much will it sell for or how much does it weigh?” I said, zipping up the backpack and slinging it over my shoulder.
“Well, both actually. Not that I'm interested in buying.”
“Seven pounds. I'd cook more, but I need to find a distributor first. As far as pricing goes, I'd say about five large a pound, so...thirty-five large.”
Alex blinked at me, the look on his face one of awe with a touch of envy. “Don't worry.” I said. “I'll make sure you get a cut for keeping watch.”
“What if I, you know...want more?” Alex said as I made my way toward the door.
“More? Maybe as hazard pay if--”
“No, I mean, I want to help.”
I looked at him and raised a brow. “I don't need a lab assistant, Alex.” I said.
“Look, once your product starts to sell you're going to need to step up production. Just let me help out, ok? Learn the ropes and all that.”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. When I worked for Cheqwan, I had only one lab assistant that ended up smoking up half of our product. Poor bastard ended up stealing from Cheqwan and getting blown away by his signature gold plated Winchester 1887. But Alex seemed like a nice guy. “Alright.” I said. “I'll consider it.” That pretty much got Alex off my ass for the night. I went back to Soup Hotel 17 and met up with Inos, spending the night in his room after everything locked down for the night. The old Rasta was surprised when I dropped the seven bags of meth onto his table. “Ah, yu a real badman, Rock!” He said, looking over one of the bags. I chuckled and sat down on his couch, next to his yawning Squirtle that was smoking a bowl. “Tell me something I don't know.” I said sarcastically, but Inos didn't take that as a sarcastic comment. Gotta say, I'm glad he didn't. “Well I be talkin' to a boy over in Charlottesville, none too far from 'ere.” Inos said as he took the pipe full of weed from his Squirtle. “He be sayin' he can move all ya can cook, Rock. First he gotta taste though, seen?”

That sounded all too good to be true. I thought little of what could happen when I gave the bags to Inos the following morning and told him the price I was asking for. I spent the entire day in the lab staring at the equipment Inos had supplied for me, my mind clouded with thoughts of failure. What if my meth wasn't up to the standards of this distributor Inos mentioned? What if Inos would just pocket all the cash and run? Did I make a mistake? I started to get a little worried when Inos didn't show up for dinner at the Soup Hotel. But my fears diminished the next morning when a large manila envelope, its contents almost bulging out, arrived at the CWC Cola bottling plant. It was simply addressed to me with no other writing on it. When I opened it in my lab, my mouth dropped as stacks of 100 dollar bills fell out. I counted it all up: thirty-five thousand, just like I estimated. There was also a folded note inside from Inos' distributor. It read,

“Rock,
When Inos said you wanted $5,000 a pound, I thought you were insane. So I tried a bit of your stash (No sweat, bro. I paid) and HOLY FUCK $5,000 IS TOO CHEAP, BRO!!! Every tweaker here wants a taste of your crystal, man! For realz! Not sure if you have them where you and old Inos are from, but since you're selling here I guess business is shit over in Quick-ville or whatever it's called.

Anyways, the seven pounds you gave me went by FAST! I need more, man. Like not for just me, but to sell because the tweakers are getting antsy! Keep on cooking, man. Send more shit my way. Like, thirty pounds maybe? Or more? Fuck man, I don't know! Just HURRY!!!

Your business partner,

- J.G.”

I grinned, starting to laugh like a madman as I picked up the stacks of cash, squeezing them in my hands as I stashed them in my backpack. I'd still have some spending money after giving Alex and Inos their cuts. As for Allison, I would deal with her later. I still had plenty of chemicals left for cooking. I had a feeling I would need more fairly soon. I didn't think my meth would sell this fast. Even better, Cwcville wasn't on the map. The feds wouldn't be able to track me down, and neither would Cheqwan Fandango and his crew. At least that's what I thought at first. It didn't matter then though. All I knew was that I was back in business...

 

[Satoru182]

I laughted like a retard at the "Jim Crow laws" bit, great tale, you gots some mad writing skillz dude.

Want more please. Am starting to like Rock very much, but whats Chris up to?

 

[WiseOldBadger]

I cannot believe this... so crazy.... but so ... good...