*Then comes a giant...fly. It begins to invade Travid's island, sucking out all the goody-good juices.*

When I was younger, I sucked at transitions. Still do, but this...this made me fall onto the floor laughing LLLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

Lost the plot for this one :P

I MIGHT make a fanfict much, much later, but for now, I gotta handle a LOT of RPs on two other sites.

So if I don't know squat about Warhammer, how would I know something as obscure as the Inquisitors? Of course I might make something that's really similar to another fiction, and more often than not, the ideas I conceive and put in have probably been done before.

Not everything can be original, not after thousands of years of cultures and legends and myths.

But I'm not sure if you created Spiral Knights or the Alpha Squad, so what's with the hypocrisy? Why bug me about my work if practically every single fanfiction here is not going to have an original idea? You're saying that I'm making a fool of myself, but I'm not the one labelling everyone else's works as unoriginal. Just defending my own's and others.

It isn't plagiarism if I don't even know what I was "plagiarizing". I can't be copying if I had no idea that there was anything like this.

You come to my thread, label it as "unoriginal" like a plethora of others, label one other fanfiction as trash because it IS original, and now you're backing off? Are you trying to leave every other author with a bad taste in their mouth?

You're behaving like a jerk.

Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr........k-thoom!

Just like every corporate-owned elevator, the stops always ended with a little skip in the brakes; just another one of those quirks cost-effective Fiends had in mind when they built their corporate compounds. Rows and columns of outdoor cubicles scrunched up against the rim of the sidewalk, providing just enough room to avoid breaking safety protocol.

It's not like anyone could drive their cars in the streets centuries ago.

When Felicity arrived, her ears were instantly greeted with a chorus of mashed keyboards - some were literally being ripped in half out of pent-up frustration; others were to be recycled. Yet, just like the occasional Glorgo she saw moping on the floor, they all went to the Processing Facility.

Unlike most other Dark Cities, this one in particular was successful due to the monopolization of almost all sanitary effects and appliances. Ironically, those who bought their products instantly went bankrupt and let their cities become messy derelicts, while the Clæn Compound was untouched.

Except for Felicity, who was only lightly-dust coated.

[ALERT! ALERT! FOREIGN CONTAMINANT LOCATED. PROCEED TO EVACUA- IGNORE THIS MESSAGE; THERE IS NO CAUSE FOR CONCERN! CARRY ON! *BZZT*]

Instantly, while she was still staring off towards the soft thistle-tinted lights, she was assailed by a small quartet of extremely pale Devilites. A pale cream in color, they differed from the rest in the sense that they wanted little-to-nothing to do with the "dirty alien freaks"; their gates could only be accessed by trusted associates. Montague, fortunately, was one of them.

Among the short, spritely male workers, the oldest one in particular had a very similar appearance to the Isorans. He simply called himself Lee, and like his namesake, had a perfectly groomed full-beard akin to a certain Southern general. He was one of the few exceptions to the isolationist policies, and was also the first to introduce Felicity around.

"Ah, looking for work here?" chirped Lee as promptly jammed a vacuum onto her waist. She squirmed uncomfortably for a bit.

"Y-yeah. Father's kept me in here for far too long; I wanna see places...not just here, Moorcroft, and Haven. Like Amu-Sol."

Lee coughed.

"Amu-Sol's stocks were terminated several years ago. All that's left are squatters and a hole in the cryogenic machinery..."

"But they had monopolized every industry concerning with ice. That's a lot of money to be made, right?"

"No one has that technology to thaw all the ice without damaging the stratum. The Gremlins say it's a hands-off site. It will continue to be until their denizens follow protocol."

"...what about the Almiri- eep!"

Lee smacked a moist towelette on her face.

"You're clean. Only job left for today is to re-adjust the walls of the cubicles. I already did half of them; I'll split wages 80/20, alright?"

Yes, you heard right, viewers. Lee lived cheaply, but his upkeep costs were high regardless, due to age liability. Unfair pay-to-labor ratios were the norm for a company like this.

Felicity smiled, face glistening with appreciation as she quickly ran the towelette under her armpits and spine. That was a 1% raise compared to last time.

"Oh dear..." Lee mumbled as he checked his sleeve.

"Hand me a tweezer, will you? There's a speck of lint here I can't quite take out with these old hands..."

And yet, his apparent age was no older than 27.

"Erm...alien..." a voice trumpeted nervously.

"Yessir?" Felicity responded without a second thought. She had just nudged the final cubicle into place without so much as even a scrape. Then again, lubrication does that.

She didn't mind the derogatory term; it was befitting of her to be called like so, even if she learned her first purrs in Moorcroft. The fact that she had a pale-cream complexion and stood at least a foot taller and fifty pounds less than her peers only confirmed she was not some deformed child.

"Our Overtimers are having difficulty managing our last CFO's articles, or more specifically, weapon. He acquired an...antique from the Lower Strati - Almirian in nature."

"I thought Fiends were good with spears and weapons of similar nature. Devilites especially." She turned towards the Devilite, a pale-white youngster standing at least two feet under her.

"That's a given, but the weapon in question is not one we have mastered the usage of; even our Trojan security sector struggled with grasping ahold of it."

"...I'm guessing this assignment is of a sensitive nature?" Felicity guessed. The Devilite blew a short note - a confirmation.

She grinned. Screw getting Lee's pay; this was going to be interesting AND high-pay.

~~~

I'll tear all of you to shreds! screamed Valryn as he flung his host, the Head of Security, at another Trojan. Unfortunately, his strike was blocked with relative ease; another damnable perk of the summoned Fiends.

Surrounding him was an easy task; keeping his flames at bay was different story entirely. Perks of clinging onto the olden ways, the massive Trojans employed metal whenever they were summoned from whichever world they came from. Given that their blades were massive in size and weight, combined with their heavy armor, that world could be expected to be terrible; Trojan legends depicted monsters of renown that petrified dozens at a glance of the eye, lured men into the sea, and sunk massive crafts into endless oceans.

That aside, the Trojans had left their world to serve under a complicated, fickle faction with worse problems than originally. Unluckily for the Trojans, there were much worse things here on Cradle.

Take for example, this.

Valryn, in another indignant outburst, spun around with his Fang. A sphere of flame, and with it an impressive explosion right after, did no real damage to the Trojans, save for the fact that a few of their shields were now permanent additions to their arms.

This, Felicity saw with great excitement as she approached the scene.

[ATTENTION FACULTY MEMBERS, PLEASE EVACUATE AREA O-12A. THE SITUATION WILL BE CONTAINED, OVER.]

The Trojans slowly began to back off, still blocking his escape into any of the various alleyways he might take. Felicity, on the other hand, approached the massive, Fang-wielding Trojan head-on.

IS THIS WHAT THEY SEND TO CONTAIN THE WARRIOR SECOND ONLY TO THE DUKE? A SPINELESS LASS?!

Valryn growled, then glowered, and burst out into another frenzy. He, in the form of his host that was literally overflowing with fire from the mouth and eyes, charged forward with his melted shield.

The battle, in that effect, had begun.