The Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut

[Kamog]

Are the FBW's at this new place cuter than the ones at the old place?

Are there any FBW's here at all?

Well, I like the name of this new place. I'll come back with my samurai sword and ninja weapons, just in case a fight breaks out.

[narf poit chez BOOM]

OOC: If a fight breaks out, a certain mouse will be here as fast as the NSN Murpy's Law will putter.

BTW, are there any nearby stellar objects I should be aware of when I park my planetoid?

[RudyHuxtable]

We have beautiful, exotic, real live breathing women (yes, "they" are unimaginably immense), and for the rowdier, computer enthralled crowd there are femme-bots.

Maybe tomorrow morning I'll give you a written description of the Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut.

I'll give you a tid-bit:

Wrap-around bar with a fish-tank full of tropical, sub-tropical, and alien salt water fish. Complete with miniature treasure chest and gravel. Of course, the entire design is supported by grav fields so it floats.

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

heeheehee...

[General Woundwort]

The owner and patrons of the Won Ton are enjoying their cosmic cuisine and comic banter when the faux-Chinese muzak being played over the loudspeakers is rudely interrupted.

“Hey. Hey! What are you doing here?” a disembodied voice crackles over the loudspeaker. “This is a private studio! You must leav… AUUUGH! [THUNK]”

A pregnant silence permeates from the speakers for a few seconds. Suddenly, another song bursts forth from the ceiling. A strangely familiar one.

Right on cue, General Woundwort and Raging Deadstar step through the door, followed by a mass of pinstripe-suited goombahs, torpedoes, and goodfellas, many of them carrying oddly-shaped violin cases. A phalanx of Furio clones follows Woundwort and RD as they walk up to the main counter.

“Greetings, Mr. Huxtable. We are the duly designated representatives of Growltigger Enterprises, the sole owner and titleholder of entertainment establishments on these forums. You have opened a restaurant on Mr. Growltigger’s turf, without prior authorization or contractual agreement. We doubt very much that he will be pleased with this. Therefore, we are here to offer you… an arrangement.”

Woundwort pauses to light a Padron Anniversario cigar, then continues. “You are cordially invited (with full guarantee of amnesty and safe passage, of course) to come to the Forum Chat Bar and Grill, and negotiate a franchise agreement with Mr. Deadstar and myself. If, when Mr. Growltigger returns, we can offer him proof of your good intentions (and a generous cut of the profits), he may be less inclined to cut off your head, set fire to your body, and feed the charred remains to the Pak’ma’ra. I can guarantee you that you’ll find Deadstar and I much easier to deal with than the Boss.”

Woundwort places a data crystal on the counter, which upon later examination is found to contain rather graphic footage of Growltigger’s ‘hostile takeover’ of a prior competitor (rated ‘T’ for Teen).

“Hopefully that will convince you. Consider our offer well, and don’t take too much time in doing so. If the Great Kat comes back and finds you still doing unauthorized business on his turf… the personal consequences would be most… unfortunate.”

“Good day to you. We expect to see you soon.”

Woundwort and RD tip the rims of their fedoras in Rudy’s direction, and depart the Take Out Hut. The hordes of capos follow them out. The Sopranos theme song fades away, and the original disc jockey’s voice is heard again (somewhat less chipper, and in obvious need of some ibuprofen)…

“We now… groan…return you to our regularly scheduled muzak…”

[narf poit chez BOOM]

Ooh, is there going to be a fight? It's been so long since I had someone to play with...

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

After the news flash and the events it described left the patrons (and the structural suppports of the building) more than a little haggard, AZ makes a call on his mitochondrial phone. (get it?)"

"AgentOne, dispatch all agents from Two to Ninety-Thousand Six Hundred And Five to GT Enterprises. And go yourself, too."

Just as he ends the call, Silky DrawZ comes running in. "I've got it! I've got proof! It's -" and is splattered all over the Hut, ruining the Praetorian nicely simmering away on the BBQ, set there to replace the one that got ruined by the splattered bits of the GT Goon Commander (1kT, 1kT resistance, damage 1 due to flying debris, Destroyed After Use).

Moments (though for some of the Xiati it was days) later, several Nultoh strongmen enter the establishment and prepare to smash the place up.

(Btw, what's the "O" word?)

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

...NEWS FLASH

A large group of very rare Xiati/Cue-Cappa crossbreeds, of which none were supposed to exist after the Genological Riots, have complained about a disturbed psychotemporal quantum field near the Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut. Upon inspection, officials concluded that the restaurant had been replaced with a quantumchroniton illusion that functioned as the gateway between the material world and a pocket universe. Councillor Hackett, the councilman that ordered the investigation, demanded it be removed immediately, and the original Hut put back in its place.

When asked, Hackett stated that this occurence had nothing to do with his new Intragalactic Inc. TX-23 interplanetary sports car, or with the firebombing - which happened sometime later.

Growltigger Enterprises has generously offered to place tight security near the restaurant, if it ceded corporate control to GT Enterprises. When the hut proprietor, a mr. Huxtable, refused, another firebombing consumed the entire alcohol storage building next door, where the main ingredients for most of the establishment's drinks were kept.

GT Enterprises has refused to comment on this occurence.

[Atrocities]

/me Cleans my gun.

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

StrategiaInUltima said:
...NEWS FLASH

A large group of very rare Xiati/Cue-Cappa crossbreeds, of which none were supposed to exist after the Genological Riots, have complained about a disturbed psychotemporal quantum field near the Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut. Upon inspection, officials concluded that the restaurant had been replaced with a quantumchroniton illusion that functioned as the gateway between the material world and a pocket universe. Councillor Hackett, the councilman that ordered the investigation, demanded it be removed immediately, and the original Hut put back in its place.

When asked, Hackett stated that this occurence had nothing to do with his new Intragalactic Inc. TX-23 interplanetary sports car, or with the firebombing - which happened sometime later.

Growltigger Enterprises has generously offered to place tight security near the restaurant, if it ceded corporate control to GT Enterprises. When the hut proprietor, a mr. Huxtable, refused, another firebombing consumed the entire alcohol storage building next door, where the main ingredients for most of the establishment's drinks were kept.

GT Enterprises has refused to comment on this occurence.

The dimensional gate was Jack's, not mine. I just showed a recent news flash to the patrons in which a councilman had ordered the annihilation of the pocket universe and that had already happened, according to the news flash.

You see, Jack? Your pocket universe had already been demolished.
I'm sorry for you.

And AZ... I know the Hut is gone, too. I stated that the first shot from a quartairy PDC annihilated just about the entire fricking northern hemisphere.