A.N.T.I.(American Nitwits Think Intelligently): The Rebellion

The dark night suddenly grew lighter; clouds rolled away in a distance. A man in a black tuxedo, sporting a handgun by his left pocket, was standing by a bus stop. "I hate Mondays."

Cyclops Coats, or Agent CyKo, as everyone called him, was in a lesser-known quadrant of the FBI, until he broke away in the early 21st century. He is now waiting for the bus to pick him up and bring him to headquarters.

Getting antsy, he stomped his foot in the tune of a tap-dance song he had heard the night before. Another man came up to the bus stop. CyKo heard him mumble something under his breath.

The bus drove up, and both got in. Inside the bus were two sets of seats, all of which seemed to be reserved. Two signs were displayed for both rows, the one on the right read "Good Guys" while the one on the right said "Bad Guys". CyKo sat on the right, while the other sat on the left.

"Looking forward to the brawl later?" asked the man on the left. "Dude," answered CyKo, "I love Super Mario Brothers Brawl! I didn't know the agency had a Wii!"

A.N.T.I. (American Nitwits Think Intelligently): The Rebellion

Secret Agent Boe Ring stood ominously at the curb, his narrowed gaze sweeping up and down the street periodically, as if willing the forces of evil to show their collective face and meet his wrath. His stature was straight and firm, his charcoal suit pressed and neat, his countenance serious and stern. He was, by all accounts, the very epitome of a no-nonsense get-the-job-done by-the-book secret agent kinda guy.

A bus finally pulled up to the bus stop, and opened its doors. Boe took a moment to adjust his hat and pick up his briefcase, then marched resolutely up the steps and entered the vehicle, with the authority of an admiral entering his battleship. He stood at the front of the aisle and surveyed all the seats slowly, grunting disapprovingly at the “Bad Guy” section and nodding affirmitavely upon spotting the “Good Guy” section. His steely eyes locked on the seat he wished to take, near Agent CyKo, and then he progressed forward with an air of harsh dignity.

However, just as he got about half way, his brightly-polished straight-laced size 12 right shoe caught on the bottom of a seat at the same exact moment that the bus lurched forward, sending him sprawling head-over-heels down the aisle until he landed in an ungraceful heap several feet later. His briefcase flew open, sending Silly Putty and goldfish crackers flying.

“Oh, Silly Putty!” He growled, trying to collect himself. He stood as quickly as he could, and adjusted his tie and coat. Then he scooped up as much of his briefcase’s former contents as he could and put them away, taking his seat next to CyKo with a severely bruised ego. “The contents of this case are supposed to be top secret!” he explained. “Go figure something like that would happen. Always at the worst possible moment, always.”

A.N.T.I. (American Nitwits Think Intelligently): The Rebellion

The bus rolled to a stop outside the tall, wrought iron gates of a vast estate. A large house on a hill loomed in the distance, with green, manicured lawns surrounding its verandas. There was a grove of trees lining the driveway, one of which had roses trained to grow all the way up its trunk and into its waving boughs. Stretched out before the mansion was a lake, with ivory statues striking a pose along its shores, and a small group of ladies were lunching on the south bank.

"I see the tour bus has stopped by again," began one of the little old ladies with a sniff, but her words broke off as one of the nearby trees, the one clad with roses, gave a shudder. There was a sound somewhere between a sneeze and a cough, and about twenty birds flew out of the tree as fast as they could.

"How peculiar," said one of the silver-haired women. "It seems that tacky bus always gives those birds a fright. I can't say I blame them. May I have another cup of tea?"

Unbeknownst to the lunch club, a young woman with roses woven into her braid and wearing camo slid silently down from the tree, and somersaulted behind a hedge to avoid being seen before running towards the iron fence. She dived into a bush beside the gate, and after a great deal of rustling, she appeared on the other side, spitting out a leaf. She glanced at her watch, then hurried onto the bus.

"Sorry it took me so long," said Agent Thorn, taking her seat in front of Agent Boe Ring and Agent Cyko and turning to face them. "Is it true we'll be getting a new assignment today?"

A.N.T.I. (American Nitwits Think Intelligently): The Rebellion

CyKo stifled a *gigglesnort* as Boe Ring tripped, attempting to keep a serious face. What resulted was actually a face like this: . Looking at the spilled contents of the suitcase, CyKo became ravenously hungry (HUHLO? GODLFISH! :O ).

"Top secret, hmm? What's special about them?" Here, CyKo ate a goldfish cracker, and started playing with the silly putty.

Agents from the 'Bad Guy' side of the bus started laughing. Trying not to insult Boe Ring, who had mentored him in the past, CyKo refrained from laughing.

At the first stop of the bus (at a location that was named: "Secret Badguy Hideout, but SHH! Don't tell anybody"), about three-fourths of the 'bad guy' side got off of the bus. While walking up the isle and out to the bus, many gave hi-fives and knuckle bumps to CyKo. "Cya later, CyKo." "Yo, CyKo!" "You da man, CyKo!" and the like. CyKo returned likewise.

As the bus rolled steadily onward, CyKo began humming. It soon became a quiet song. "lookin' at me now... like Who's that chick that's rockin' Kicks humm humm humm."

CyKo looked towards Boe Ring to make sure that he wasn't disturbing him.

He heard a great rustling noise, and Agent Thorn appeared into view. "Hello, Agent Thorn. And yes- a new assignment is sure to be revealed today... not sure what it is, yet. I hear that Chief and our Evil Scientist Joe Weirdsworth II were fighting over who to send on the mission, until they found us (here CyKo waved to those on the left side of the van)."

Another stop. The rest of the 'Bad Guy' agents left the bus, with each one that left the bus steadily leaned to the right. The bus driver turned the 'bad guy' sign backwards, making it read 'good guys'. Half of the good guys then switched seats to the other side to prevent the bus from falling over.

A.N.T.I.(American Nitwits Think Intelligently): The Rebellion

Evil Doctor. Joe Weirdsworth the II turned off his IMM (Invisible Making Machine, for all you wanna be evil peoples) and suddenly appeared standing in the middle of bus. His white lab coat complimented his black AR-15 and night vision goggles quite nicely.

“Hello and welcome to Sunnyside! Oops. Sorry, wrong intro. Anyways, welcome to the A.N.T.I M.U.P.E.T.T.S team. Here we have but one goal. Protect the children of America from the M.U.P.P.E.T.S, a group of Communist mutants created at the height of the cold war, in order to quietly turn innocent children into diabolical villains!

Yes. You heard me right! You are the last chance for the next Generation of the United States of Insane. Will you stand up to this craziness, or will you sit on your counch and watch as your family members are infected with unspeakable ideas, will anyone else join me?" Doctor Joe asked.

"Oh. Is that a Goldfish?" Joe said, bending over and picking one off the floor before eating it "Now, what were we talking about again?"

A.N.T.I. (American Nitwits Think Intelligently): The Rebellion

Agent Boe Ring was clearly disturbed by those laughing at him, but he tried not to respond. He simply folded his hands and began twiddling his thumbs, while whistling the National Anthem of the United States of Insanity. However, his whistling was soon interrupted by CyKo's humming, causing him to go off-tune, so he gave up.

When Agent Thorn entered, Boe gave her the greeting of a single solemn nod. "Evening, Agent Thorn. I believe a new assignment is scheduled, indeed."

"Oh. Is that a Goldfish?" Joe said, bending over and picking one off the floor before eating it "Now, what were we talking about again?"

Agent Boe Ring raised his hand, as he had been trained since kindergarten to do before interrupting a person who is talking about something that seems important. "You were talking about M.U.P.P.E.T.Z., sir, and their plan to turn American children into diabolical mercenaries of evil. You were also speaking about Goldfish, sir."

Animals of Justice Society (AJS): The Prophecy of the King

Prologue: 25 years ago...

A large, lone figure was lying near a large rock. He tried to stand, but weakened and fell back down. A soft moan escaped his mouth.

"Moe! Your majesty!” Another figure swooped down from the air and landed next to his injured companion. “Are you alright? Oh, yes you are! Come on, I’ll get some help and we’ll take you back to the kingdom!”

“No, my dear friend,” Moe murmured weakly. “I won’t be coming back…”

“Of course you will!” his friend scolded. “Where else can you go? Save your energy, and let me…”

“I’m not joking, Corne. I am not going to live much longer.”

Corne soon grasped what was going on and cried “No! You can’t die now! We need to restart again, and we can’t do that without you!”

“I know, Great Horn, but my time has come. All I can say of what to do next is that it’s time for all of you to leave the island. Now, before you protest, remember as your ancestor Chouette announced that one day, we’d have to abandon our home and thrive among others until the wrong had been righted.”

“But how long before then? That big, hairy thug will stop at nothing to have his revenge on us!”

Moe dared to think of an answer, but his mind blanked. What would right the wrong he and everyone else who lived here had created?

Then, his deep, brown eyes caught something in the sky. Rain was still falling, but the clouds were breaking, and there shone three bright stars. Almost instantly he realized what it meant. Could it be? Was it true that the time was nearing?

“Friend,” he mumbled, doing his best to be loud enough, but starting to weaken horribly, “There is a prophecy about to happen. See those three stars? They are a sign of three great heroes. The two smaller ones will be two noble rescuers that’ll bring all of you together again and help defeat the dark villain and his comrades. And the giant, fiery one that’s higher than them will become a new leader,
someone who’ll save the day and show you the right way again. I don’t know when this will in fact happen, but it’s nearing faster than either of us might’ve expected.”
Corne sat amazed. “Who will be our leader until then?”

“You should be, and if you must, you can appoint someone else.” Moe’s breathing became hard, and announced, only in a soft whisper, “Go now, Corne. I’ve done what I've been called to do. Hold on, and know that things are going to be alright. Have hope…” Then, he closed his eyes, and had his final breath. There, his body lied on a rock, and Corne sobbed on his late friend’s shoulder as the rain kept splashing down.

25 years later...

Chip, a Parson Russel Terrier of the sort, was strolling down the street. He enjoyed getting a nice stroll every morning. But then, he heard something.

A.N.T.I. (American Nitwits Think Intelligently): The Rebellion

As the bus bumped and chugged its way down the street, it stopped at an intersection in front of an old, slightly battered building of dusty grey stone. As the bus waited at the intersection, a car ran the red light, and the bus driver honked angrily on his horn.

The harsh sound blared through the grey building and into a huge library, where a young woman dressed in black sat at a table, her dark-framed glasses and messy ponytail barely visible above the stacks of books in front of her.

At the sound of the horn, she jumped, hastily checked her watch and tucked her book under her arm. Giving the library one last reluctant glance, she hurried out, shutting the doors behind her. On her way outside, she opened the book again, finding where she'd left off.

Outside, the bus waited at the stop in front of the building. She slung her orange satchel over one shoulder and began to climb the bus steps, still deep in the adventures of Ivanhoe. Her nose nearly hit her book as she slipped on a patch of grease on the top step, and she narrowly escaped tumbling into the surprised bus driver's lap.

He gave her a skeptical look, one eyebrow raised, but she flipped her ID card at him. "Agent Mal'ady," she murmured, already nose deep in her book again, and continued down the aisle.

She had made it to nearly the back of the bus and plopped into the seat next to Agent Thorn when she noticed the silence. Looking up from the page, she realized three very important facts.

Firstly, she was late. Secondly, she had interrupted the revered Doctor of Weirdsworthiness himself, in the middle of his speech. And thirdly, the silence was growing awkward.

Agent Mal'ady lowered her book rather guiltily and looked around at her fellow agents, before glancing back at her boss. "Um...sorry, Doctor. Hi, guys." She closed her book and laid it on her lap before rummaging through the satchel. She held up a small plastic bag and grinned hopefully. "Care for a Dorito?"

A.N.T.I. (American Nitwits Think Intelligently): The Rebellion

"Ah, yes. Thank you, Agent Goldfish correct? Ok then. Gold fish are a form cracker, made out of thin pieces of baked bread, which are compressed together in layers. Giving them their crunchy taste, and now, what’s next? Who wants to discuss Quantum Physics with me?

Or maybe alternate Universes? Or better yet! The M.U.P.E.E.T.Z! They are all biomechanically engineered. Part Dog, Part Alien, part Frankenstein. Each of them has a specific power or ability. And then there are separate classes, first we have the Kermid class, these are the warrior caste, they are green ninjas and are able to blend in with any and all surroundings.

Next come the Big Beard, these gigantic yellow creatures are the bronze of the operation. They are the average thug. Their brains are really little but their testosterone levels are really, really high, therefore they are used by the brainier of the bunch to perform dirty work.

Which brings us to the Big Reds; these are the real big boys of the group. Mean, nasty, cunning, stealthy, basically everything that screams ‘bad guy’ cliché, I know, but hey. I was young and- well hello Agent NoseInBook, you interrupted my speech. Again, you really need to cut that out before I turn YOU into a goldfish.

A.N.T.I. (American Nitwits Think Intelligently): The Rebellion

Taking a dorito, CyKo delved back into his seat.

CyKo waved to the now-plopped Agent Mal'ady.

CyKo grabbed a paper airplane, and wrote a note upon it, since he was not allowed to speak during the Doctor's speeches. He threw it to Mal'ady, the airplane flying in the stuffy air of the bus. The air was so stuffy in fact, that the airplane stopped halfway, taking a nose-dive into the floor of the bus.

He shuffled towards the the paper airplane, and kept throwing it and picking it up, repeating the cycle until it finally (after some three-and-a-half minutes) reached Mal'ady's lap. CyKo winked, then went back to his seat, feeling slightly awkward.

He whispered slightly, "You open it."

Sitting back down, he cringed at what he had heard from the Doctor, and raising his hand, asked: "What does M.U.P.P.E.T.Z. stand for, sir?"

A.N.T.I. (American Nitwits Think Intelligently): The Rebellion

Agent Mal'ady nodded apologetically at the Doctor and sat quietly in her seat. Her fingers itched to pick up her book, but the Doctor's threat still echoed in her mind. Of course, he spouted dozens of such threats per day, but she had heard rumors of odd experiments done by him lately, and she had no desire to end up as fish-shaped snack food.

She was occupied with munching Doritos, watching CyKo attempt to send a paper airplane her way, and trying to breathe in the heavy, stale air of the bus when a sentence of the Doctor's caught her attention. "We have the Kermid class, these are the warrior caste, they are green ninjas..."

At the word "ninjas", Mal'ady's head swung around and her eyes lit up. "Ninjas, hmm? Just let me at them and we'll see," she muttered. Pulling out her notebook, she reached for her pen and scribbled.

Kermid class, warrior caste. Otherwise known as green ninjas.

Orange pwns.

She was interrupted by CyKo's paper airplane, which he had finally managed to sail through the air and into her lap. Picking up the paper and unfolding it, she read, Whatcha doing and I want more doritos!

Quietly, so as not to interrupt the Doctor, she tore a piece of paper from her notebook.

Dear Cyko,

P. S. Reach back behind your seat.

Dropping the note on the floor, she casually edged it with her foot over to CyKo's seat and poked him in the shoulder when the Doctor wasn't looking.

A.N.T.I. (American Nitwits Think Intelligently): The Rebellion

His back unsuspectingly poked by a feetz, CyKo turned round and saw that a bag of glorious, orange Doritos were being passed to him. In his bliss, he started munching loudly on the nacho-goodness.

Having listened to the Doctor rant on and on about MUPPETZ and evil big beards (he wondered what was wrong with beards- he always wanted to grow a long and fluffy one as a hippy disguise), his attention darted from place to place, but mostly remained on his doritos.

Looking despairingly at his now-emptied bag of doritos, he stared deeply into the M-BOO (mobile base of operations). Its old-ish appearance wasn't what was expected from a state-of-the-art agency like A.N.T.I., but the agency couldn't afford so much as an office. Tough times, he thought.

He looked at the doctor again, and said, "You said something about communistic Muppetz? Brainwashing kids through the teleyvision? How can that happen? How can we make it stop? Will I ever stop asking QUESTIONS?!"

He forced himself to remain silent. He had watched Muppetz as a kid. "Am I affected by these brainwashers?" he thought. "I hope not." was his only conclusion.

A.N.T.I. (American Nitwits Think Intelligently): The Rebellion

Trying to ignore Agent Mal'ady's Doritos, Agent Thorn raised her hand and, eyeing the bazooka strapped to the esteemed Dr. Weirdsworth's back, found the voice to ask, "Doctor, I would like permission to impart what I have learned about these mutants. In the dead of the night, I have often stolen into the house at Primberley to research these creatures. I have spent many an hour going through their extensive DVD collection and watching on their big screen TV the late-night broadcasts coming from "The Street" in Muppetzylvania, and it is clear that all of these were masterminded for the express purpose of brainwashing the children of the U.S.I. My findings are disturbing to the say the least. Do I have leave to address the group? And, uh, do you think you could not point your bazooka at me when I'm talking?"

A.N.T.I. (American Nitwits Think Intelligently): The Rebellion

Agent Boe Ring listened attentively to Dr. Weirdsworth’s dialogue, keenly taking note of everything said and filing it away in his impeccable memory banks. However, there was a slight distraction annoying him; every time he leaned forward or moved in his seat, the bench emitted a small, shrieking squeal. Being a responsible and resourceful sort of fellow, Boe decided he would quietly fix the problem so as not to cause further disturbance for all the other agents; he considered himself very thoughtful of others in this regard. He whipped out his trusty sonic screwdriver - a device capable of manipulating sound waves to do just about anything imaginable – and began sonicing the bottom of the seat below him.

However, Boe had never read the instruction manual for his sonic screwdriver, and therefore had no idea how to work the thing. Accordingly, it was on the wrong setting. Instead of tightening the bolts of the seat to stop the squealing, it actually loosened them all, and after only a few seconds of sonic manipulation the entire bench fell apart, and Agent Boe screamed in shock as he fell, thus creating a much greater disturbance than the miniscule squeal ever would have.

“Whoa,” Boe exclaimed as he tried to sit up amongst the wreckage of his seat. He suddenly realized what a disturbance he had caused, and he shot a worried gaze toward Doctor Weirdsworth and, more specifically, the bazooka. “Um… heh heh, carry on,” he said with a nervous chuckle, trying to pretend as though nothing irregular had happened. (And, in view of his track record of clumsiness and general bad luck, nothing irregular really had happened.)