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Gundam-Ranger-X

Three Girls and a Communist, CH2

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Well, I've managed to finish up chapter 2 in my fanfic. Unlike the first chapter there's some action in this one. I also think I did a good job writting the fight scene considering it was my first attempt at writing one.

I hope you all enjoy it. Feedback would be greatly appreciated.

On a side note, Erin has agreed to edit my drafts to make them clearer and to fix up the spelling and gramar mistakes I've made. I'll still be posting each chapter when I finish them and then update them later after they have been edited.

The Communist was created by me.

The Germinator was created by my friend, Erin.


Life tastes like kittens. I like kittens!

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Chapter 2

The sun shone down on this beautiful early summer afternoon. The people of Moncton went about their every day lives. Shoppers were shopping. Bankers were banking. Tourists were touring. The city of Moncton was indeed a peaceful place.

But not everyone was peaceful. One persone in particular. A man covered in flowers and various plant growth. A man standing outside the First Bank of Moncton. A man with evil intent and malice in his heart.

The man entered the bank and laughed his evil laugh. "I'm not the Terminator or the Dessolator! I'm not the Violator or the Silent Oppressor! I'm the Germinator, baby!"

He raised his arms and sprayed forth his seeds of evil. The seeds burrowed their way into the floor and sprouted forth great vines. The vines grew longer and thicker by the second. People ran out of the bank screaming.

"Open the vault my pretties!" commanded the Germinator. His vines shot forward and wrapped themselves around the vault's door. The metal creaked and groaned under immense stress until with a loud crash it gave in under the vines relentless pulling. Sparks showered down as the massive door was ripped off it's hinges.

The Germinator hurried into the vault, still laughing his laugh of evil. He began to grab as much money as would fit in his arms when a familiar voice stoped him dead in his tracks.

"Such a need for lawn enforcement and me without my weed wacker."

The Germinator turned and confirmed his fears. There in the doorway stood the Communist.

He wore a thick dark brown overcoat wich covered down to his knees, a pair of black leather army boots with riveted steel plates on the toes and heels, a pair of camo army pants, a pair or black leather gloves, a black mask wich covered his neck, eyes, ears and the side of his face, leaving his mouth exposed. He also wore his most signiture item - a black Russian fur hat with bright red star on it. And on that star was the mark of the hammer and sickle. Only in his early 20's he had a nice beard growth, styling it in a gotee and accentuating it with a well trimed mustach.

"We can do this one of two ways," he said with great panash and charisma. "One way involves you comming peacefuly and quietly. The other involves alot of pain and screaming."

The Germinator threw his head back and laughed. "I doubt that very much Communist," he said deffiantly. "We both know you have no super powers."

"I have enough power to beat you!"

The Communist quickly drew a throwing dagger from his belt and flung it at his villanous foe. It flew gracefuly through the air with a low whistleing sound. It flew straight and true when just as it was about to find it's mark a vine shot out of the floor and deviated it from it's course.

The Germinator threw his arms forward with closed fists. "Eat this!" he shouted and shot forth a barrage of sharp thorns at the Communist. The Communist reacted quiclky to the threat and backfliped out of the way. Growling in anger the Germinator fired a continuous volley of thorns.

Our hero had to tumble and jump, to zig and zag in order to avoid being hit by the relentless assault until he made it to cover behind an office desk.

The Communist was pinned by the Germinator's fire. He had to act quickly. He braced himself against the floor, and using all the strength in his legs, launched the desk at his adversary.

The Germinator was suprised by the flying piece of office furniture turned projectile and had to dive out of the way to avoid being flattened. He scrambled to get back on to his feet before his opponent could but he was too late. The last thing he saw before loosing conciousness was the sight of the Communist's mighty hammer flying through the air, comming right for his face.

With a loud smack and a dull thud the fight was over. The Communist had thrown his large two handed hammer at the Germinator before he had a chance to react.

The Communist picked himself up and dusted himself off. "One good hammering deserves another!" he said triumphantly before taking a swig from his flask of vodka.

He walked over to his downed foe and tied him up with some steel wire he kept in his vest along with ihs other assorted goodies. He dragged the Germinator's uncontious body to the waiting police officers outside.

"Take 'im away boys," commanded the police chief. "Well, once again we owe you a debt of gratitude, Mr. Communist," he added.

"Don't worry about it chief," replied the Communist. "Just doing my job. Make sure to put him in an all glass cell so he can't escape this time."

"Oh don't worry, we've got that covered," assured the police chief.

And with that the Communist left the scene, the fight having made him hungry.

He walked to a small cafe near city hall. He sat at his usual table and ordered a modest meal of meat and potatoes. 'This is the life,' he thought to himself. 'I give the police a hand fighting the supervillains here and there and I get free food and a free apartment. This truly is the Soviet Paradise.'

The Communist ate his dinner and ordered some chocolate pudding for desert. There were very few things that the Communist enjoyed more the chocolate pudding. He ate his piece of heaven and got lost in it. This was truly an orgasmic experiance. He could even swear that he felt the ground moved.

He was snaped out of his daze and brought back to reality by the sound of car alarms and glasses falling over. The ground really was moving.

The Communist ran outside. People were panicking. Moncton was not prone to earthquakes. The ground shook with increasing force. A deep crack began to form in the asphalt of the main street, snaking it's way twoards out hero. "This is new," he commented to no one in particular.

The ground split open and from the gash crawled a tyranosaurus like monster. It had spines on it's back and grey scaley skin. It stood on it's hind legs and it's long tail waived from side to side. It threw it's head back and roared a mighty roar that shattered windows. It fixed it's eyes on the Communist and licked it's lips.

A bead of sweat formed on the Communist's brow. "Oh you have got be kidding me!" he said in utter dissbelief.


Life tastes like kittens. I like kittens!

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