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I'm ripping this idea off a friend. The basic premise is simple. Someone starts off a story and each poster below them continues the story. We could set up basic rules to keep the story for the most part on the same track. With my friends story we had no rules so the story got ridiculous fast. It spanned many universes and brought characters such as Dr. House and Sonic the hedgehog together.

It was late at night in the urban concrete street of LA, a hot wind blows past through the quiet street

And then the man with the lips of a fish and teeth of an ox dropped dead, as an unassuming man who was nonetheless a small minded bastard walked by him.
Barely glancing back, the man could be heard to whisper "I guess i was the right one for you."

- walking purposefully yet not quickly so not to draw attention, the unassuming man continues his trek into the mist shrouded alleys of the city, in the morning police officers find their work is only just beginning...

a dog farted...

John Cena.

John Cena was the right man for the job. Hell, the only man for the job. A veteran of two wars and a nasty divorce, he was the only man in the city that had enough grit to push back against this city.

Cena had left his job as a pro wrestler years before, tired with the posturing and chest-beating. He would always hold a special place in his heart for it, but he knew the fish-lipped people needed his help. Back in his wrestling days, his manager had been Bose Panchet, a fish-lipped man, who also had the feet of an elk and the tongue of a honey badger. He looked up to this man, but when Bose was murdered in tepid blood by a deranged binman from East Central, he saw the way that these people were treated by the system, and vowed to avenge Bose's fateful legacy. As he stood over the dead fishman on that warm LA morning, the sight of the cold body brought back horrible memories, and he decided his first action would be to

he took to the underworld of the mean streets of LA, not a hard thing to find but difficult to survive without experience or the right grit. he found a name, a name of a man neither unassuming nor of a small minded bastard.

it was a feeling, a primal feeling of instinct and gut

Originally posted by Nuke Nixon
- walking purposefully yet not quickly so not to draw attention, the unassuming man continues his trek into the mist shrouded alleys of the city, in the morning police officers find their work is only just beginning...

To this point, it was a shockingly coherent beginning.

Yeah, this went to shit quickly.

And he didn't mind the shit and kept on flicking harder and harder at each pounce like a beating drum only getting more rough at its beat. Heather knew he had total control over her yet still she kept on riding like a jocky to its horse. He knew she was such a dirty **** and he could get away with anything even murder. She then screamed with such joy I'm going to cumm I going to cumm.... and....

He had found Nicolas in an old run down motel. His escorts had John off. His room dior was cracked open. The musky smell of the the room penetrated his nose, and his mind. John Cena walked to the window and placed his finger on the thing that opens blinds. "It's time to let the tiger out of his Cage." John Cena let loose the mighty glare of the sun. Right into Nicloas' face. He screamed, "My eyes!" as the light burned reality into his pupils. John Cena stood there, impatient.

Cena mulled it over, then started to smirk.


218 minutes later (they opted for the extended version of the first one on Cena's insistence), the films were over. Cage chuckled.

"Not my finest hour," he said, pulling on a cheap cigarette. He offered Cena one, but Cena just looked at him with disgust.

"I'll pass on the cigarette, but I think the second one is solid, as far as sequels go."

Cage flicked the cigarette butt out of the window.

"What are you here for, Cena?"

"I think you know."

"Do I? I've been cooped up in here for the past six months, preparing for Leaving Las Vegas 2: Leave Harder," he said. His eyes shot up at Cena, and Cena saw the pain behind that look. "I need another nomination. I'm dying here, man."

Cena paced the room.

"Do you know anything about... a fishman?" he said.

Cage stalled, then adopted a nonchalance in his expression that Cena recognised all too well. He turned away, put his hand on the wall, and said:

'You know, I should really go outside and pickup that cig-butt, it was a total dick move to flick it out the window like that; you can start a forest fire like that. Don't know what I was thinking."

Cena raised an eyebrow at his long estranged friend. When Nick made eye contact with him, John studied the hollow sunken face, the thin features of him. It wouldn't be the first time that he envisioned Nick as a scarecrow. A hollow thing made of straw. He wondered if he poked him hard enough that nothing but straw would spill out.

"You can leave when you've finished answering my questions, Nicholas." John crossed his arms, moving to put himself between his gangly friend and the door. The energy in the room suddenly grew tense. The scarecrow in the denim jacket and sunglasses lost himself for a moment, actually wondered if he'd be able to power through the former Heavyweight Champion. The thought didn't stick. Maybe if he had popped a blue before his friend had barged in here.

He resigned himself to his fate, although began noticeably perspiring.

"Fish man, eh? I've known a few since I've been around. You'd have to be more specific. They all tend to blend together, ya ask me. Just weird-o freaks with horrific mouths. What's your beef with them?"

Originally posted by Quincy
Cena raised an eyebrow at his long estranged friend. When Nick made eye contact with him, John studied the hollow sunken face, the thin features of him. It wouldn't be the first time that he envisioned Nick as a scarecrow. A hollow thing made of straw. He wondered if he poked him hard enough that nothing but straw would spill out.

"You can leave when you've finished answering my questions, Nicholas." John crossed his arms, moving to put himself between his gangly friend and the door. The energy in the room suddenly grew tense. The scarecrow in the denim jacket and sunglasses lost himself for a moment, actually wondered if he'd be able to power through the former Heavyweight Champion. The thought didn't stick. Maybe if he had popped a blue before his friend had barged in here.

He resigned himself to his fate, although began noticeably perspiring.

"Fish man, eh? I've known a few since I've been around. You'd have to be more specific. They all tend to blend together, ya ask me. Just weird-o freaks with horrific mouths. What's your beef with them?"

'Would you prefer another target? A military target? Then name the system!' Leia hesitated, could she really sacrifice the rebellion to save the world below? 'Dantoine' she whispered, 'they're on Dantoine'. 'You see Lord Vader, she can be reasonable...'

Cena knew this was going to be a hard nut to crack but then... it was as if a million voices cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced.

The Death Star set its course for Dantoine.

Cena turned the TV off again.

"This isn't the time to be watching Star Wars, Cage. Not after what you just said. We aren't steering away from the fishmen just yet."

Cage was pacing now, another cigarette lit. Cena watched him carefully, scouting the room for any weapons that could be used against him. He assumed Cage would never be so stupid to try and take him down, but you could never be sure with Cage. He was a live wire, a loose nut, a ghost in the machine, and all sorts of other things; Cena had seen him brain a bartender with a saucepan for no reason more than accidentally pouring him a pint of Carlsberg when he had asked for a Guinness. The man was unstable, and had been ever since Face/Off. Word was, there were still remnants of John Travolta's personality lingering inside him that he could never quite shake off. Every once in a while, he caught glimpses of Scientology behind his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, fishmen. I already asked you, what's the deal with you and them ****ing fishmen?" said Cage.

"Feeling touchy, Nic?"

"Naw. I'm just getting real tired of your tone. If you have something to say, spit it out, huh?"

Cena smirked.

"Alright then. One was found dead this morning. Cold as a cod. You, er... know anything about this?"

"And why do you think I would?"

Cena pulled out a scrap of paper. On it was written: To my favourite fan, **** fishmen, and **** their scaly little faces, yours sincerely, Nicolas Cage. Cage eyed the piece of paper, then laughed a little bit.

"I guess your favourite fan wasn't so loyal after all, huh?" said Cena.

"This all you got? That could be anybody's handwriting. This is crazy John, you need to get a hold of yourself."

Cena moved; in seconds, he had Cage against the wall of the dingy en-suite bathroom, his hands on his throat. Cage tried to keep a calm face, but the drips of sweat betrayed his fear.

"You want to die in here, friend? If not, you'd better start talking. Fast."

Originally posted by Scribble
Cena turned the TV off again.

Swing and a miss.

Originally posted by Scribble
Cena turned the TV off again.

"This isn't the time to be watching Star Wars, Cage. Not after what you just said. We aren't steering away from the fishmen just yet."

Cage was pacing now, another cigarette lit. Cena watched him carefully, scouting the room for any weapons that could be used against him. He assumed Cage would never be so stupid to try and take him down, but you could never be sure with Cage. He was a live wire, a loose nut, a ghost in the machine, and all sorts of other things; Cena had seen him brain a bartender with a saucepan for no reason more than accidentally pouring him a pint of Carlsberg when he had asked for a Guinness. The man was unstable, and had been ever since Face/Off. Word was, there were still remnants of John Travolta's personality lingering inside him that he could never quite shake off. Every once in a while, he caught glimpses of Scientology behind his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, fishmen. I already asked you, what's the deal with you and them ****ing fishmen?" said Cage.

"Feeling touchy, Nic?"

"Naw. I'm just getting real tired of your tone. If you have something to say, spit it out, huh?"

Cena smirked.

"Alright then. One was found dead this morning. Cold as a cod. You, er... know anything about this?"

"And why do you think I would?"

Cena pulled out a scrap of paper. On it was written: To my favourite fan, **** fishmen, and **** their scaly little faces, yours sincerely, Nicolas Cage. Cage eyed the piece of paper, then laughed a little bit.

"I guess your favourite fan wasn't so loyal after all, huh?" said Cena.

"This all you got? That could be anybody's handwriting. This is crazy John, you need to get a hold of yourself."

Cena moved; in seconds, he had Cage against the wall of the dingy en-suite bathroom, his hands on his throat. Cage tried to keep a calm face, but the drips of sweat betrayed his fear.

"You want to die in here, friend? If not, you'd better start talking. Fast."
Adrenaline shot through Nicholas's veins, was he really being held up by such a MONGREL?! A former heavyweight champion yes but still far below the plane of existence CAGE RESIDES UPON! "heh I guess you forgot" Cage choked out "You're dealing with, GHOST RIDER!!!" Cage thrusted a mighty blow using both his legs into the abdomen of Cena, The champion was sent flying backwards, reeling in such a way the former wrestler was having flashbacks of being thrown towards the ropes. Cena smashed into a record player causing it to jump to life, playing a fast paced Spanish guitar melody, Cena glanced at Cage and cracked his neck back and forth while cracking his knuckles "Shall we dance?" The former marine asked? "NOT MANY GET TO STAND IN THE SAME REALM AS CAGE MONGREL! HOLD YOUR TONGUE", in a flash Cage vanished and then suddenly appeared in front of Cena WHOOSH, "What's this?!" John was shocked Cage launched a barrage of fists towards Cena, they both trained at the same dojo...Cage had potential, but was always so full of himself..he never really had what it took to master the arts, but he was damn good...and a much higher tier opponent than the phony opposition in the ring.

It's been ages since John faced an opponent of this caliber, he was overwhelmed for a second and sent reeling back once more before catching himself "Hah, damn Cage, that pride awakened in you again didn't it? Sadly I guess I'm going to have to give you an additude adju..." just then a wave of dark internal energy rippled through the former heavyweight champion and he dropped to one knee while clenching his face...


The sounds around him faded, the music was non existant, even Cage's crazy God complex phrases were muted to John....

The darkness was so loud inside him, for all the good John has done he has had to repress so much of the abyss inside of him, if the light is strong the shadow is that much darker. It was Nega Cena, John struggled with him his whole life trying to take over his body as his vessel, especially in the old Thuganomics heel era, "Heh kill Cage" "I can't!" "You're weak..." A powerful dark pulse of aura tore through our hero, feeling as if every one of his nerves were being seared in cold fire, it rendered the detective champion mentally unconscious, he clasped his hands to the sides of his head in agony and screamed towards the skies, before suddenly rising up as a whirlwind of energy crackled around him....his arms slowly dropping to his sides, every exhaled breath nothing but steam, as his eyes opened to reveal they had became crimson. This was enough to snap even Cage to his senses "CENA SAMA, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!" Nicholas cried out..He was all too aware of what was going on, back at the dojo the harder john trained the worse nega cena became, their sensei sealed Nega Cena inside John one night after Nega tried to kill the master, John gave up training due to not wanting to weaken the seal...if Nega is back, John must have been training, but..why?" The kohei asked himself.

John cackled as his lightning crackled, he threw his right arm up, which released a massive Ki wave, splitting up the middle of the apartment, Cage snapped back to reality and barely dodged in time, but it wasn't meant to hit him, just distract, in that time Nega appeared and grabbed Cage by the throat slamming him through the apartment wall and the next one as well (which was thankfully vacant) with no effort at all and pushing him up against the wall until even the third one was about to give way "HAHAHA, back where we started, hmm Cage?!" Nega laughed as his grip against Cages pencil adrenaline filled neck tightened. Cage was shocked, is this how he was going to go out? His eyes started to roll back into his head as he heard Nega say "With this move I shall destroy your soul", Cage felt his body being slammed through the third wall and into the next room but he was floating..he realizes he's been thrown...the last thing he saw was a crackle of purple lightning and Nega utter the words "Shun Goku..." but at some point Cage's phone must have escaped from his pocket, someone was calling him and suddenly this beautiful hymn rang out NI5lrn69rOI

Nega immediately collapsed and grabbed his ears " NO! NO! NOOOO!" John was coming back, inside mentally he just hit Nega with his finisher and pinned him, nothing could stand against this Titan when that theme was fueling him! John snapped back to himself, Cage lay coughing on the ground in front of him holding his throat, "Hah, guess you're a fan huh Cage?" John chuckled while standing up and tightening the belt on his gi, Cage scoffed "Well! You were a pretty good heavyweight champion.." They both shared a hearty laugh, but wait who was calling him? John immediately grabbed the phone, "NO!" Cage's senses coming back into his heavily concussed hemorrhaging brain, he knew he was expecting a call, one from the guy behind wanting the Fish Lipped people killed...

Cena glanced at the phone, it was none other than ___________

*Incoming call from Samuel Jackson* "Why is Sam calling Cage at this hour", Cena mumbled under his breath, which constantly smelled of stale Cheetos and seaweed, so Cage wouldn't hear.

Answering the phone in his best Cage-voice, "What's up my Sammy J, what calls at this hour?

"Mother****er, you damn well know why I'm calling your ass right now. Don't act dumb. Shit. The Armenians, they're done waiting, you have to act now." Responded Sam over the line in a crackled voice which suggested he was somewhere with low reception.

Cena pondered for a moment in how to best respond in a Cage-like manner and all he could say was:

"I'M A VAMPIRE. I'M A VAMPIRE I'M A VAMPIRE" Said Cena into the phone, eliciting a wince from the crumpled man on the floor.

"Look, the Armenians...Sammy - I'm in the middle of something. I don't know if it's even connected, even tangientally, but there's something going on here in River City." He turned away and peered through the window, out on the vast urban wasteland of the city.

That's when Sam dropped the bomb on him.

"River City?! Mother****er, your ass needs to be in Bangkok yesterday! The Armenians want that kidney or another actor's kidney of equal or greater value that you owe them and your overacting ass is going to give it to them, or else my black-ass is on the line. Don't make me leave the safety of this volcano I'm hiding out in to head on over to RC and find your ass. You know I know the fishmen on an intimate level and they owe me a favor and I'll cash it in if I have to, Cage. Just don't! Consider your ass warned."

Cena trying hard to process this devastating information Samuel had dropped on him in his substandard wrestler-actor's brain; while maintaining his ruse of being Cage and trying to connect how Sammuel and the fishmen were connected, was left with three simple words ____ ____ ____.

"Broken Sandwich Manual"




...But what the hell could this mean!?

John smacked himself in the face. The Broken Sandwich is a popular pub down in Tiajuana where lots of fishmen congregated after work. That's where he met his 3rd wife, Nancy Drew. That's where Manual, their fiesty bartender gave the couple their first shots as a couple. It was all too obvious at this point. John knew where to go from here.

President Barack Obama extended his hand and motioned John Cena to get in quickly. "Brocky O, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." John exclaimed as he jumped into Buggy Force One. "How's Michelle?" John asked the POTUS. Barack smirked, "Still jealous that I won that dance contest and there for her heart?"

John laughed but really he was upset inside. He knew if had only been a little more funky he could have been the first black president. But John didn't dwell in the past. Especially when under gun fire. Bdog Otrain ditched the the crazy people and the two were quickly on a peaceful back road leading back to the presidential hacienda.

When they arrive at the hacienda, Obizzle and Cena discuss the events that just transpired. John fills the POTUS in on the fishman situation.

The camera cuts to Barack, with a stern browse and his palm over his mouth.

"That fishman was a CIA informant. His disappearance concerns the entire nation. He was on special assignment investigating the David Cameron and pig debacle. "

John Cena stood up and looked at the camera.

" You mean... "

Cut to Obama's faceface." I'm not letting international matters get out but.. "

Smash cut to Obama haermming