Booya Sucka - Comin' Atcha Again

God the progress of this fic is taking me an exorbitant amount of time, which is so unnessecary for the length that this will be overall. I just wanted to post the progress of this, and since I don’t think anyone rememebers this fic, since the last time I posted it was before the server crash, I’ll just post the whole thing. It ain’t that long folks, only seven pages at best. It’s a comedy, guys and gals, so laugh it up! And tell me if it’s good or not and all that other goodness.

Booya Sucka! : The Stranger

Though their names remain etched within each and everyone’s mind; Cloud, Tifa, Barret, Vincent, Yuffie, Cait Sith, Cid, and the great evil that was thwarted by them, evil still rears it’s ugly head now and then, like that annoying guy by that always wants to talk to you about pointless topics. It tries it’s best to cause trouble that is thought to be long gone. That is why I am here. Why I have come to restore peace to this disturbed land.

My name? BS.


“Hurry up, Muffy! The party’s going to start in a half-hour!” a middle-aged woman, blonde hair trying to fight back the gray streaks age wishes to bestow on her, yelled from her little bathroom next to their bedroom.

“Well, darling, I would simply love to move along in this process here, but I’m having quiet the trouble figuring out what to wear.” Muffy said, walking into the bathroom. “What do you think, Buffy? You think this works?” he asked, gesturing to his person.

She stopped combing her hair for a moment and looked at him and scanned the clothing choices. Making odd expressions, contourting her face, she said, “Well, I like the tie. And I like the pants and I love the shirt. But just not together, dear.”

Grumbling for a moment, looking down at himself, he asked, “Well, then, what should I do to change this look into something we can both enjoy?”

“Change that tie and the pants. The blue set. You’ll be fine, darling.”

“Very well,” he concluded and walked back to the bedroom.

Buffy commenced combing her hair. She smiled after a while, glowing at the image placed out before her. “I do look stunning, don’t I?” she spoke to no one in general.

“Who are you talking to, darling?” Muffy yelled out from within his closet.

“No one, dear. Just flattering myself. A little, self motivation.”

“Mmm, yes.” his muffled voice said in return. Walking back into the bathroom, he asked, “Are you wearing that thing again? That black dress simply does nothing for your exquisite features, dear.”

“Well, you know what they say, Muffy.” Buffy replied. “Once you go black, you never go back.”

“Goodness sakes alive, will you ever cease using such tired phrases?”

“Well, darling, you’ve got to stay with what works. Stays with what works.” she smiled at herself in the mirror.

“Mmm, yes.” his voice drifted as he walked out the room.

Several moments later, the two were out the door, on their way to the big bash where only the rich were able to congregate. Starting the engine up on their laviously, luxuriously lush automobile, Muffy asked, “Did you ensure the diamond was securely placed in the room with the semi-automatics ready to fire at anyone who happens to venture within?”

“You mean, the alarm, dear?” Buffy returned a question.

“Yes, yes, you know what I mean.”

“Of course I did.” he replied. Driving out from their establishment, he finished, “How careless do you imagine me to be?”

Meanwhile, inside the manor, a button simply labeled “Off” which was opposite of “On” was pushed, and the security system was quietly shut-down.


“Oh, good heavens alive!” Buffy cried in horror. “My beautiful, $62,400.45 diamond has been stolen from me!” She commenced in the sobbing once more and burried her head in her hands.

Walking up behind her, Muffy peered into the room his wife, at the doorway, had fallen to her knees in surprise and agitation. Noting the scene before her, he shook his head. “Wow. Evil has penetrated even our expensive and therefore best mansion in the whole town. If it can happen to us, my dear, I’m sure for a certain now that it can happen anywhere.”

Buffy, though, was too shocked still to do anything but continue her insessent crying.

“And they left not a clue as to where we can find them.” Muffy continued, as he picked up a slip of folded paper that simply said on the outside, “Not A Clue”. Inside the paper was blank. “Well, this is just plain rude.”

“Is there anyone that can restore peace to this downhearted person!??” Buffy asked out loud, tears still streaming down her face.

At that exact moment, as if saying this were his cue, a masked man, a BS symbol adorning his forehead, with tight black spandex covering his whole person, yellow streaks highlighting the most of him, crashed violently through one of the windows in the room and rolled on the floor. Hopping up quickly, shrugging off any glass debris, he placed his hands on his hips and stated, “I am!” A gust of wind flew behind his words, and flapped his cape some.

“Good gracious, young man! What are you, some sort of hero?” Muffy asked the caped, masked villigante.

“Why, that question can be answered with the utmost assured response of YES!!” he replied, forcefully.

Buffy looked up at him, tears still streaking from her eyes, and then observed the mess of glass that lay behind him. “You broke our window!!” she bellowed, and then resumed her crying.

“Fret not, dear lady. For it is I, the one who will avenge your savaged, ravaged, blood lossed heart!”

She looked up at him again, and confusingly asked, “What does that mean?”

Muffy ignored her question, and asked him, “But, what I want to know is just what those two initals stand for? BS? Uhh, would it Beast Slave?”

“No, good sir!” his deep voice responded, a hint of laughter flowing through.

“Beautions Special?”

“Well, that would just be short of silly, sir!”

“Barking Stupid?”

“Now your just making things up!”

“Ohh! Bullsh-”

“No, no, no, no!!” he quickly interupted him. “I am a family friendly superhero!”

“I had the window specially flown in from (winter town). How ever am I going to receive a replacement?” Buffy pondered, tears finally slowing their decent down her face.

“Well, what IS your name then, young man?”

“My name, is Booya Sucka!” Booya proudly proclaimed, a gust of wind blowing his cape after he finished announcing it. “And I have come to rid this world from any and all evil!”

“Uh-huh. Well, that’s all well and good, but I don’t really see the need for the costume.” mUffy started. "I mean, it’s just a pretencious little garment meant to try and hide your true inner thoughts and emotions from people, something I certainly don’t want in some kind of “superhero”. Muffy finished, making little quotes with his fingers. “And anyway, what actually MAKES you a super hero anyway?”

“Well, fellow doubter, when I proclaim the words, Booya Sucka!” and then a gust of wind began to blow his cape some, “I gather on super HUMAN strength, able to knock any foe out with one solid punch!”

“And then you have my friends, who simply will not understand how we allowed such a unruly fellow like you to walk away scotch free.” Buffy muttered along, still remaining on the topic of the broken window. “And my mother, oh Muffy, my mother! What will she think?”

“I think your lying, good sir, I don’t think you have any such power.” Muffy stated to him.

“But I do! And I can prove it to you!” Booya said, and walked up to Buffy.

“Oh my, and then I simply must have to find out about the framer and see if he can arrange a time to come over and examine this catastrophe.” Buffy was still saying when she stopped and looked up at Booya who towered over her.

Shouting loudly, “Booya Sucka!” he pulled his arm back and then let his fist sail into her face. As soon as it made contact, she completely blanked out and toppled over, unconcious.

Examing his wife, he looked at Booya and said, “Well, looks like I’ve been made the dill in this pickle jar.” he stated, smiling approvingly. “Well, off you go now, to retrieve the stolen goods that’s been abducted from us and to go and do harm to his person. Go on, go, go.” he softly coached, pushing his hands away approvingly.

“Yes sir!” Booya said, and jumped out the window, his cape knocking away some shards of glass as he did so.

Crouching next to his unconcious better half, Muffy muttered, “Very good work already, masked defender. Very good, indeed.”


“So, you know, this dude just comes right up to me, right?” the blonde hair fellow begins. “And he looks at me and he says, ‘Dude! How can I be a dope as you?!’ So, you know, I’m looking at him looking at me, and I kinda look at his clothes, and like, I can totally tell he can’t be like me even if I ripped my face off and splattered it on his, ya know?”

The other two fellows in the room started chuckling at the truth to this.

“So, like, there I was, trying to figure out how to tell him, ya know, that he can’t be me! No one can be like me, ya know? There’s only one Manchez, and that Manchez is me, ya know?” he said, taking the toothpick out from the side of his mouth.

“So, what did you say, Manchez?” one of the men asked.

“What do ya think I said, Ricky? I was like, ‘Ayo! You can’t be like me! I’m sick tight. You can’t flow like I do. You can rock a Vincichi suit like I do. Get over it!’” and he finished that last line thrusting himself forward to the invisible person he recanted his story about.

The other two guys smiled and clapped approvingly of the story.

“Ya know, ain’t no one I know who is more stylist than you. You know that, right Manchez?” the other man commented.

“Ay. I know you know that I know about the dopeness that we both know comes from me. You ain’t gotta keep bringing it up, Picoolo.” Manchez said, walking over to him. Patting him on the cheek some, he said, “You gonna start to make me blush some, now there.”

Picoolo started to smile again, as Manchez walked away, shoes clicking and echoing in the large room. The tall ceiling room was spotted with darkness, the only light source coming from the large fireplace. Four large chairs, two on each side of the room, funrinished the rather ordinary room.

Sitting down, looking around, Manchez asked, “Hey. Where is Vincardo? I hope he’s not still trying to learn how to breakdance. Ever since he saw that there breakdancing competition video, you know, the one that Ricardo brought with him on his last trip?” Manchez waited until he saw the approved head nods of his two commrades. “Yeah, him, he just been wantin’ to breakdance and be like the guys he saw on that tape. But we all know Vincardo can’t be a breakdancing fool. I mean, he can be a fool, but you better not beleive that he can be any sort of breakdancing fool, ya know? Ya know??” he finished chuckling as the other two men laughed at the thought of Vincardo breakdancing.

Vincardo, as you might not have known, has a little problem with having two left feet. In the litteralist sense, though. For some unexplained reason, he litterally was born with two left feet. His parents were more than a little embarresed to say that he was their son, and all of his friends shied away from him the instant they realized his odd handicap. It was only when Manchez befriended him, did he really beleive that he would be with people that liked and respected him for who he was. But the only thing that his friendship with these three unruly men brought was constant teasing and belittling because he could theive like his compadrades could.

“I mean, think about it! Think about it, guys!” Manchez was able to say over the laughter of this Vincardo breakdancing. “Watch me. And I ain’t never breakdance a day in my life!” And with that, Manchez dropped down and started to breakdance, spinning his legs in a whirlwind of skill and precision, head spins and fancy footwork being accomplished.

After the short show was over, he spread his arms out in a flashy show, waiting for the applause that of course came. “You awesome, dude. You awesome!” a skinny man yelled out.

“You know I is, Hench. You know I is. Get out of here.” Manchez smiled at him. “Now, if Vincardo was to try to breakdance, you KNOW he’d be flat on the floor before he even got a chance to put two feet forward!”

The men again laughed at the “delightful” image they conjured up within their heads. As they giggled and chuckled and occassionally snorting, a confident Vincardo sauntered in the wide room, a slight grin cropping up on his face. The men slowed their laughter some as they reconized his presence and looked at him with inquistiive expressions.

“What you so happy about, Vinny?” Jex, the other fellow asked.

“Wouldn’t YOU like to know.” Vincardo responded.

“Yes, I would. That’s why I asked.” he replied, a bit confused at Vincardo’s answer.

“Where WERE you all this time, Vincardo?” Manchez asked him.

Vincardo chuckled some and said, “Round and about, doing things I ought not to.” he vaugely replied.

“Okay, I don’t know what your talking about,” Hench said. “So, can you just tell us where you were and what you were doing?”

“Let me answer that question with all of you following me into the next room,” Vincardo said walking away.

“This better be good, Vinny,” Jex said, a bit on the heavyset side, struggling to rise from his chair.

“I don’t have time for games, Vincardo,” Manchez said as well.

As the three men followed Vincardo into the following room, they noticed a new light source emmenating from a corner that never emmenated light before. Following closely now to Vincardo, they realized what it was. A huge, magnificant, quite heavy, diamond from the depths of the deep, deep earth; very rare, very expensive. The light from the full moon, the clear sky spying down on it without hinderance, gave the room a soft, eerie glow.

Stunned, mouths dropped down in awe, the three men stuttered over to the diamond that was resting on a soft, red plush cushion. “Where did you find this, Vinny?” Hench was the first one to ask.

“Find?” Vincardo almost laughed repeating him. “I didn’t FIND this. I stole it, guys.”

“You stole it?” they all asked in unison, looking at him dubiously.

“Course I did.” he replied, chest sticking out a bit in pride.

“From who? Where? When??” Manchez battered him with questions.

Chuckling, Vincardo stuffed his hands in his pockets and started, “So many questions, so little time.” He started to walk past them, but stumbled, on account of his two left feet. Falling into the arms of Hench, and being pushed back into a standing position, he tried to regain composure and started up again, saying, “From the mansion that belongs to the richest couple in town. The Tenors!”

Gasps escaped the lips of all three fellows as Vincardo waited patienly for praise and adulation. He never did receive it, but he did quickly receive a knock on the head from Manchez. “You stupid!”

Vincardo was a bit surprised at his reaction. He wasn’t suppose to be angry with him. He was suppose to be praising him and thanking him, even profusely, for doing such a thing. “Wha- what?” was the only thing he could stutter out.

“You did this without even asking us?! Without even consul’in’ us, making sure no loop holes were exposed, yo?!”

“There weren’t any loop holes, Manchez! I made sure of it.”

Crouching on one knee, Jax observered some sand build up from a spot from the bag that was busted, a rather big pile now accumilating. The “sand” was redish, and a bit thicker than normal sand. “Hey, look at this.” Jax called out.

“What is it, Jax?” Hench asked.

"It looks like some sort 'o sand.

It’s aaalive! :smiley: Great to see you back in action, Bookbag :slight_smile: