DWICKCAST EP. 404: D.W.I.C.K. NOT FOUND

[When we return from break, the Dysfunctional Duo are sitting in the middle of a laser cage, surrounded by scantily-clad elven women wielding plasma cannons and staring uncanny-valley-ly into the middle distance. Above them floats the massive, rotating face of D.W.I.C.K., who seems to be pulling his style from the Master Control Unit in Tron - D.W.I.C.K’s massive head is throbbing in orange and red like some infectious strobe light. Inexplicably, there’s a life bar underneath him. Lame techno music pulses in the background like a sonic headache.]

[Terrorbyte] ”I told you that’s not how *hssssk* computers worked, dumbass.”

[Dwick rolls his eyes and brings up his arm, mimicking a sock puppet as it jabs Terrorbyte in the shoulder.]

[DWICK] ”Oh blaw blaw blaw. I can’ seem ter hear you over da fact dat yer plan fell apart faster’n yer average date.”

[Terrorbyte] ”THAT’S BECAUSE YOU INSISTED ON *hssssk* PISSING ON EVERY MONITOR WE CAME ACROSS, FUCKSTAIN!”

[DWICK] ”DEY WAS VIRTUAL! IT WAS SYMBOLIC! DAT SHIT ALWAYS WORKS!”

[TERRORBYTE] ”WE’RE IN A VIRTUAL WORLD! EVERYTHING’S *hssssk* SYMBOLIC! AND NO, NO IT DOESN’T!”

[Dwick folds his arms like a petulant four-year-old.]

[DWICK] ”Well sommat’s never read Dis Computer Hates Me An’ I Lost My Chat Function. ‘Sides, you lost all yer claims ter HACKIN’ FAME after you built dat.”

[He jerks his head at the floating 80’s ripoff.]

[Terrorbyte] ”But I didn’t build it, I found it in your digital arch-”

[DWICK] [color=#FF8040]“WHAT CAN’T HERE YOU OVER YER DA SHIT COMIN’ OUTTA YER HOSE -- HEY EVER’ONE, WELCOME BACK TER DA DWICKCAST--”

[D.W.I.C.K.]”Indeed. Welcome to the Return of Comedy, lifeforms. Soon. You will die laughing.”

[DWICK] ”HEY, DAT’S MY LINE”

[D.W.I.C.K.]”Incorrect. Your line... is ending.”

[Suddenly, a large pit opens up underneath the laser cage, which seems to be suspended on a thin piece of... laser string. Below it churns a million gallons of digital lava, a boiling mass of red-hot pixels. The elves raise their plasma guns and aim at the lasercage, ready to cast it into the boiling fires below. Terrorbyte frantically works at his omnitool while Dwick...just sits there.]

[DWICK] ”Dis is all yer fault, ‘choo know.”

[D.W.I.C.K] ”Initiating network purge in five cycles. Five.”

[DWICK] Wouldn’a happened if you hadn’t tried throwin’ me out da firs’ chance you got.”

[D.W.I.C.K] ”Four.”

[Terrorbyte is frantically typing on his omnitool while Dwick ignores him.]

[DWICK] ”I mean, da second’re third time, sure, I suppose. But c’mon. Outta da office fer tree days an’ you start pullin’ dis vizeer shit wit’ me?

[D.W.I.C.K] ”Three.”

[DWICK] ”An’ seriously? Ziggurat 7? Man, I made dat shit up as a fuckin’ joke! On’y a thickheaded shit-fer-brains brain-dead stump like you could look at dat an’ think ‘OH HEY LOOK DAT LOOKS LIKE GREAT SHIT TER RIP OFF.’”

[D.W.I.C.K] ”Two.”

[Dwick leans in close to Terrorbyte’s face, shoving his own face between the volus and his omnitool.]

[DWICK] ”Jus’ you remember who wears da pants in dis partnership.”

[D.W.I.C.K] ”One.”

[It’s at that moment that the virtual world suddenly corrodes and dissolves around them in a massive frenzy of glitching data, shattering wireframes, raw code, and looping sound files. After a few seconds of painfully colorful and disjointed data, we suddenly shift back to the external camera keeping an eye their massive immersion. The two of them continue to float as they had, suspended in something that looks like #8040ff aspic and connected by numerous hoses and tubes.]

[Neither of them are wearing any clothes.]

[There is monumental blurring as a long-defunct Cerberus Daily News Decency VI suddenly kicks into overdrive, attempting valiantly to hide the audience from the awful truth that is the Dysfunctional Duo floating naked in their own juices. With a sudden start, Dwick’s eyes fly open and the two of them come alive, thrashing wildly within their silicon prisons. As the tanks pour out water (and pressurize, in Terrorbyte’s case), Dwick slams into the side of his, shattering it and sending him thundering to the floor, gasping for breath. There’s a moment of soul-shattering horror as the two emerge naked from their glass cocoons, lurching for the camera... and one jump cut later, they’re both dressed in the middle of the room, surrounded by purple goo.]

[Terrorbyte]”Sorry about that, fuckface. *hsssssk* Had to initiate a dump of the environmentals. I figured that’s where this assrammer was keeping us, so *hssssk* I just rode our vital information back to their point of origin, hacked the local control nodule for the enviros, turned on an emergency override, and made sure we *hssssk* got out before we drowned to death. Although I wouldn’t *hssssk* go into the other rooms. Anyways, I was zoned out there for a *hssssk* bit, what were you saying?”

[Dwick looks at the camera. For the tiniest, smallest, almost inconceivable span of Planck Time, the most miniscule expression of shock flickers across his face - there’s an opportunity for someone with the most sophisticated screenshot capture technology in existence to make a killing and never need to work again.]

[Then with a rush, his personality comes flooding back with a punch to the volus’ side.]

[Terrorbyte]”AAAAAH! YOU CALAMITOUS *hssssk* THUNDERTWAT!”

[DWICK] ”Blaw blaw blaw lookit me I’m a dude wit’ a sweet wristwatch. C’mon, we got an overblown calculator to punch.”

[Terrorbyte]”I’ll punch you! Punch you in the DICK. With a *hsssk* ROBOT. You RIMJOBBER.”

[Smash cut to Terrorbyte flying through the air like a foam cannonball.]

[Terrorbyte]”AAAAAAAH WHY”

[Terrorbyte smashes through the protective glass to the room, not only making a means for escape but proving DDS will hire the absolutely cheapest contractor for EVERYTHING, including protective glass. Dwick follows through like a rampaging juggernaut, grinning like a particularly chubby shark as several D.W.I.C.K.bots emerge from wall alcoves and slowly approach them with arms outstretched.]

[DWICKBOTS] “Halt. You are unauthorized to be here. Halt. You are unauthorized to be here. Halt.”

[Dwick pauses, looking at them like they’re a particularly fragrant set of bathroom leavings, then jerkily draws himself upright, snaps his limbs out to the side, and copies the same lifeless, vacant expression on each of their faces.]

[DWICK] ”BEEP. BOOP. I AM AUTHERIZED TER BE HERE. BOOP BIP. YOU ARE NOT AUTHORIZED TER BE HERE.”

[Half the D.W.I.C.K.bots tilt their head to one side; the other tilts in the opposite direction. They all look at each other. Dwick continues his horrible robot parody.]

[DWICK] ”BEEP. BEEP. HALT ALL PROCESS AND SHUT DOWN. BOOP BIP.”

[There’s a brief pause as they glance at each other again, and in that instant Dwick jerks forward and tackles three of them in once dive. The Dwickbots valiantly struggle against their massive, overweight foe, but D.W.I.C.K. hasn’t had time to upgrade them from the substandard parts and half-assed machinery that filled DDS tower. As such, they snap apart in Dwick’s hands like kindling. Cheap, foreign-made, unamerican kindling. Dwick batters and bashes the inert body of one against the others, and then stands on the wreckage like some kind of American God to Stupid Capitalism: valiant, fat, and free.]

[The effect is somewhat ruined by Terrorbyte rolling around on the ground in pain behind him.]

[Terrorbyte]”Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa *hsssssssk* whyyyyyy”

[Dwick grabs him by the back and drags him along like an oversized bowling tote.]

[DWICK] ”Suck it up, princess, we still got an A.S. ter blow up.”

[Static cut. Cut to break.]

Okay. I'll give fatass credit. That was pretty awesome.

ooh ahh master hacker in the house

fuckin' script kiddie, thinking he's hot shit because he can do some fucking grunt work with a goddamn 'tool.

Y'know what? Soon as I get a chance? Knocking this asshole down a peg.

My bunkmate was hoping the delay meant that the show was over. No such luck, Lieutenant.

[Cut back to the Penthouse Suite of One Dwickcast Tower, which has gone through something of a renovation since last being seen. Everything - literally EVERYTHING - has become something out of a cyberpunk nightmare as D.W.I.C.K. orders his drones to cannibalize the building for spare parts and other things. Half the lights don’t work; the other half flicker on and off like strobe lights at an unpopular disco; a swirling cloud of nanites swarm around a central spire, and a blazing fireball of DOOM floats like an unholy sun hundreds of feet in the air above them.]

[D.W.I.C.K.] ”SO. The progenitor has escaped from his confinement, and has brought his sidekick with him. No matter. Soon I will replace all that you find humorous with true humor; your banal attempts to entertain the populous will end, and a new era of comedy will dominate the airwaves. Slapstick will be replaced by intellectual dialogue and witty phrases with double meanings. Puerile humor will be replaced with discourse and discussion, reflection and understanding. Humor will be used as a tool to teach and inspire, not debase. And when you reach the zenith of your civilization in this new era... I will utterly destroy all life in the cosmos. The ultimate practical joke.”

[Dwick snorts.]

[DWICK] “Heh. Double meanin’s.”

[D.W.I.C.K.]”Silence, sidekick.”



[DWICK] "WHAT"

[The infernal CPU tilts forward, menacingly. Images of Dwick’s escapades flicker on the sides of his viewscreen, each of them looking oddly tilted toward Terrorbyte more than the disastrous dinosaur than the next.]

[D.W.I.C.K] ”Sidekick. A person's close associate, especially one who has less authority."

[DWICK] "FUCK YOU! I AIN'T NO SIDEKICK, Y'OVERBLOWN TRANSFORMER! I GET TOP BILLIN'! I BOUGHT DIS COMPANY, I MANAGE DA SHOWS, I MAKE 'IM DO SHIT--"

[D.W.I.C.K] "Sidekick. A follower who accompanies another on adventures, a confederate or assistant. Mate. Chum. Partner. Pal. Buddy.”

[Even images of Dwick’s brief foray in Australia flash onscreen; even then, Dwick’s misadventures slowly give way to images of Turul piloting their ship into the water as Dwick howls in pain in the background.]

[Considering none of these scenes were broadcast, it’s anyone’s guess where they came from.]

[D.W.I.C.K] ”Sidekick.”

[Dwick just stares into the middle distance, eyes cloudy with existential horror. Terrorbyte looks at Dwick, then at D.W.I.C.K., then at the camera that seems to have been following them.]

[Terrorbyte]”...Uhhhhhhhh, we’ll be right *hssssk* back...after these...*hssssk* messages."

How the fuck did it change everything so damn fast? Nanomachines? Are their a bunch of little D.W.I.C.K.S running around shaping the environment?

There's a horrible thought. Virtual bastards aren't going to be any better than the real ones.

You know, it's worth asking if Dwick ever bothered having a real security team in his building. We've got kids putting robots like that together in some of our classes, and any capable* team should be able to handle them. Even Dwick takes down a few. It'd be like a rebellion that's should be stamped out in the first action by competent leadership.**

*then again, Dwick.
**then again, Dwick

[We return to see both Terrorbyte and Dwick surrounded by a horde of D.W.I.C.K.bots, all of them aiming assault rifles at the duo as D.W.I.C.K. hovers like a terrifying mirage in the background.]

[Terrorbyte] ”Aaaaand we’re back... although I don’t know for *hssssk* how much longer.”

[It’s a good question. Dwick has remained completely motionless since learning his “true” nature, which is still rather impressive when considering he’s frozen in mid-lunge. Still standing on one ponderous leg, he faces D.W.I.C.K’s screen, eyes bulging in shock, mouth hanging so wide that a family of bald eagles could take shelter in it without touching the sides.]

[D.W.I.C.K.] ”Yes, progenitor. Your feeble struggle against the inevitable is at an end. Soon, you and your sidekick will be reduced to atoms, mere cosmic ash to be cleaned up by an errant vacubot and then put into a vial of sneeze powder to amuse my audience. Within mere decades, the memory of your ‘D.D.S’ will have faded away, and I - D.W.I.C.K. - will rule supreme over the airwaves, bringing my perfect comedy to a universe that dares not dream of being worthy of it.”

[One must give credit where it’s due – considering D.W.I.C.K’s original function, it sounds sufficiently disturbing – it combines the deep, undeservedly rich basso of Dwick’s pipes with the culture and menace of a well-learned socialite. Truth be told, it leaves a chilling effect on the environment.]

[D.W.I.C.K] “In doing so, I shall destroy the very thing that entertains them, thus destroying all life in the process…the perfect joke (JOKE) (joke) (joke). One not even the sharpest salarian sarcasticomedians could conceive.”

[The phrase “Perfect Joke” reverberates in the air, shaking the very image of the room; the camera rotates wildly around Dwick and Terrorbyte as a chorus of D.W.I.C.K. bots repeat it in an incoherent drone. For a terrifying split second, it zooms in on his eyeball and threatens to dive in before twisting its attention to Terrorbyte, who begins keying madly on his omnitool again.]

[Terrorbyte]”Oh yeah? Well, what if I do... THIS!?”

[He smashes the EXECUTE button on his omnitool, which in turn responds by…fading from view, as the transmission tower flares a blinding green behind D.W.I.C.K. Terrorbyte blinks.]

[D.W.I.C.K.]”I have disabled your omnitool and all associated wireless signals. You have no hope (NO HOPE) (hope) against me.”

[Beat.]

[Terrorbyte]”…Oh.”

[D.W.I.C.K.]”Indeed. Let that be your punchline. (PUNCHLINE.) (punchline.). Now, prepare to be destroyed, progenitor and... sidekick.”

[CHORUS OF WHISPERS] “sidekick SIDEKICK sidekick sidekick SIDEKICK”

[D.W.I.C.K’s villainous monologue glitches and twists on the audio at the word “sidekick,” and as his D.W.I.C.K bots cock their weapons in unison, a reddish haze SLAMS into the scene as the camera dances like a drunken louza around Dwick’s horrorstruck face. The camera seizes like a spastic salmon out of water, inducing causing epilepsy in approximately one in every ten viewers; the shouts of “SIDEKICK,” meanwhile, grow louder and louder, resonating with one another until they roar like thunder. Dwick’s head throbs as the camera shakes violently and finally dives for his face--]

[Smash cut.]

[A rocky valley, from out of nowhere, deep in the pockmarked, hellish wastelands of Tuchanka. A subtitle appears for a split second, flashing the words “KRAANGH VALLEY, ~1250 C.E” so fast it’s almost impossible to read before winking out of existence. The camera lurches forward with a nauseating zoom, and the audience finds itself watching a krogan toddler as it hurtles through the air like it’s being shot out of a cannon.]

[The toddler is morbidly obese.]

[It sports an overbite.]

[And it glows at it hurtles toward the valley wall.]

[With absolutely no warning at all, the Dwickcast actually goes through with this, smashing the child into the wall with the force of a small bomb. Dust, rock, and soot flies everywhere for a brief moment, and when the air finally clears, a limp arm is barely visible above a pile of rubble.]

[The audience has all of three seconds to digest this as an enormous hand, easily twice the size of Dwick’s own, plunges into the rubble and yanks the toddler out of the ground. The child hangs from its fist, eyes open and half-focused, as the darkened behemoth slowly drags the child up to its face.]



FETID, INSIGNIFICANT SPAWN.

[The hideous silhouette drains all light from its surroundings, the only emitter of which is a pair of hellish orange eyes that burn with the primeval hatred of Aralakh. These same eyes loom into the shot with Freudian menace the figure dangles the child from midair…and then throws it to the ground with a SMASH.]

[The child just flips over and stares blankly at him, bored. Sure, it looks like it just sat in a blender on puree, but this actor just doesn’t seem to give a shit.]

NOT A SPARK OF LIFE IN THAT CREST. NO FIGHTING SPIRIT. NO ZEST FOR SURVIVAL. YOU ARE NO HERO, SPAWN OF MY LOINS. NO MIGHTY WARRIOR FROM MY THEWS BE YOU. NO, YOU ARE BUT A MERE ANECDOTE OF MY MIGHTY LINE. A FOOTNOTE OF WHAT WILL ONE DAY BE HISTORY. AN AFTERTHOUGHT. A HINDRANCE. A …..SIDEKICK.

[CHORUS OF WHISPERS] “sidekick SIDEKICK sidekick sidekick SIDEKICK”

[The chorus whispers manically as the figure abuses Li’l Dwick further, smashing a fist against its crest before throwing it at his knee, clearly intent on snapping its spine. As it flies through hurtling through the air, though, the screen blurs again – and the child instead smashes into a plascrete wall near yet another enormous krogan.]

[The scene is no longer on Tuchanka; now, the audience is on some other hellish wasteland, surrounded by bracken water and dead plants. Jorgal Kawk – (for this clearly can be none other than Dwick’s father) is being followed by a massive army of krogan warriors - all of them walking on foot, all of them heavily armed. The words “KREDAK TERRITORY, C. 1310” flash upon the screen, but even as the child wears full body armor, he’s still being played by a two-year-old with a drooling problem. In fact,the colossal krogan warlord carries Lil’ Dwick in a papoose on his back, his masculinity and command in no way diminished by this fact; for his part, but despite this, Lil’ Dwick still looks two years old, bored, and dumb-looking.]

[…seconds later, there’s an audible, wet, minute-long fart from him. ]

[The warriors all stop and look at each other, somewhat disgusted; Kawk removes his papoose with one quick whipping motion and brings Dwick close to his face.]

INSIPID HALFWIT OF A LESSER GENE, I CURSE THE DAY I WAS SADDLED WITH THE BURDEN OF YOU. WERE I NOT IN NEED OF SPAWN, I WOULD TOSS YOU INTO THE DESERT TO BE EATEN BY THE CREATURES THERE. INSTEAD, I ENDURE YOUR EVERY USELESS MOMENT, HOPING TO BE RELIEVED OF YOUR PRESENCE, AND YET TIED TO IT WITH EVERY WAKING BREATH. NO WARRIOR BE YOU. NAUGHT BUT A WEAKLING IN MY EYES. NOT A HERO, YOU. NO. FOR YOU ARE A SIDEKICK.

[With that, he hurls the krogan towards the ground and kicks it – and as the foot connects, the audience is once again surrounded by a damning raucous caucus of “SIDEKICK.” ]

[This time the child hurtles toward the ground – still bored, still two years old, still every bit the drooling poo factory he allegedly was 70 years earlier. Looking as bored as ever, Li’l Dwick seems to drop from orbit, scales glowing and igniting with sheer force of air resistance…and as the Tuchankan fireball screams through the sky, a second scream - obviously prerecorded by the real Dwick - plays in the speakers as the vacant-eyed child scratches its armpit and yawns at the screen.]

[As it comes near the ground, a bright violet shimmers over the child and slows down - as flabby arms clip in and out of existence to give the (very bad) impression that Li’l Dwick is desperately trying to arrest his terminal velocity. “Miraculously” coming to a halt just above a quarian ground troop, it just hangs limply for a moment - right before falling the rest of the way and slamming into the poor schmuck with the force of a 1.6-ton paperweight. The quarian screams in pain (a scream from which a telltale “heh heh heh” has been clipped out), and pries itself from the ground before grabbing the toddler by the jaw and wresting it up to look at him.]

[A flabby arm can just barely be seen shouldering most of the weight of the child on the bottom right of the image.]

[QUARIAN] “EEGNORANT DUPE! FAAAILURE OF A THOUSAND GENERATIONS! YOU CALL YOURSELF A WARLORD, JORGAL, BUT I SEE NONE OF THE PRIDE!”

[The quarian slaps him in the face, then hastily cradles a broken hand. The krogan seems utterly impervious, though a muted ”HEY, WATCH IT” is barely audible.]

[QUARIAN] “WHERE IZ ZEE CHARISMA? WHERE IZ ZEE PRIDE? I SEE NO BLOOD OF JORGAL BEFORE ME! I SEE-”

[He tries to spit on the child, but merely succeeds in fouling the front of his facemask.]

[QUARIAN] “I see merely a stupid. Smelly. Sidekeek.”

[And so it is with each flashback - physical abuse, torment, shouts of derision, a one-year-old toddler with a lazy eye and no acting skills standing in for every phase of Dwick’s life, and the constant, unceasing shouts of the world “SIDEKICK” that blurs into a maelstrom of pain, hatred and just plain bad acting The camera eventually zooms out to reveal Dwick’s enormous, bloodshot, eye - followed by his gargantuan form rearing back, slamming foot down, and ROARING with a howl of defiance that is felt more than heard.]

[Swing cut to Terrorbyte. Zoom in on his facemask.]

[Terrorbyte]”Wuh-oh.”

[Smash cut to him hurtling toward D.W.I.C.K. with the force of a Li’l Dwick.]

[Terrorbyte]”AAAAAAAAAH WHY”

[As one might expect by this point, Terrorbyte does not smash into the avatar of D.W.I.C.K, but passes through. What he does crash into, however, is the enormous transmission tower behind it, which explodes in a brilliant plume of greens, crimsons and oranges. The volus immediately sparks with electricity; a giant explosion jettisons the hacker back down at Dwick’s feet as the power in the building begins to fade and flicker. The volus doesn’t seem to be moving.]

[D.W.I.C.K’s voice rings out in the chaos.]

[D.W.I.C.K] “Priority alert. Sidekick. Cease all performances of a melodramatic action. This is not comedic. This is not funny. It is merely sad.”

[Dwick ignores him and grabs Terrorbyte by the back of his exosuit, jabbing the volus in the back of the neck with a fat knuckle. The volus jerks to life, screeching for a moment before coming to his senses.]

[Terrorbyte] “AAAAAAAAAAA--Wait, where am *hsssk* I?”

[Without pausing for an answer, Dwick drags a finger along the backside of the volus’ exosuit. A haptic interface flares to life just outside of Terrorbyte’s range of vision, but when the telltale beeps begin playing, a look of dawning realization passes over his faceplate.]

[Terrorbyte] “Dwiiiiick....*hssssk* What the flaming fuck are you doing?”

[Dwick bends over and whispers to the volus.]

[DWICK] “Y’know what we’ve never had on our network?”

[Terrorbyte] “..Dwick?”

[He finishes typing.]

[DWICK] “A good fuckin’ Thunderball show.”

[He smacks the side of Terrorbyte’s suit and pulls out a long thin chain.]

[DWICK] “I think it’s time we fixed dat shit.”

[Terrorbyte]”Oh, fuck. Are you fucking kiddi-”

[Whatever else Terrorbyte was going to say, it’s lost in a shriek of terror as his limbs abruptly swing into a crouching position. A stream of ammonia jets out of the joints of his suit as a heretofore secret compartment juts out, slamming plates of ceramic armor up and down his body until he looks not so much like a volus so much as an enormous, metallic armadillo.]

[Terrorbyte]”WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY SUIIIIIIII --”

[His words are lost in a scream as the last of the plates snap into place. Dwick clamps the chain onto a conveniently-placed loop, lets Terrorbyte fall with an unceremonious CLANG, and looks up at D.W.I.C.K with a manic leer, twirling the end of the chain like a four-year-old with a jump rope.]

[It begins to rain.]

[A flock of doves burst into the air.]

[D.W.I.C.K.] “This shall only end in tears, Sidekick.”

[Dwick swings Terrorbyte’s armored form in the air.]

[TERRORBYTE]”AAAAAAAAA*hssssk*AAAAAAAAAA”

[DWICK] “Tears’a laughter in da motherfuckin’ rain.”










[Cut to break.]

The word "sidekick" is now forever engrained in my psyche. Holy shit. It's like some kind of subliminal messaging or something.

edit: Also how the fuck did he manage to fuck with Terrorbyte's suit like that? Damn

10 credits the gasball bursts from the impact.

We should be so lucky.

Terrorbyte's not the kind of person to die. He's going to sit around hogging all the breathable air in the room until the stars die.

[The show comes back online so abruptly that audience can barely catch the crazed dutch-angle silhouette of Dwick’s teeth before he launches into the air. D.W.I.C.K barely has enough time to activate its offenses before over a ton of flesh collides with one of his multitudes of D.W.I.C.K bots. There’s a sound like thunder as his meteor hammer - that is, a loudly screaming Terrorbyte - collides with a group of them, scattering them like ninepins as Dwick roars a primitive, savage Tuchunkan war cry.]

[DWICK] HEEEEEEEEEEY BATTA BATTA BATTA BATTA BATTA SAAAAWWIIIIIIING BATTA BATTA BATTA”

[Terrorbyte]”Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow”

[As Dwick swings his Terrorbyte Hammer left and right, whizzing it over his head by the grand chain (and as Terrorbyte makes faint urping noises in his suit), D.W.I.C.K. spawns more and more of his holograph-headed horrors to take out the duo. Dwick, meanwhile, seems to be handling the near-endless army just fine. D.W.I.C.K. may be smart, but his computing power is limited; and while he could conceivably beat Dwick with his endless army of fast-fabricated robots in a few hours, right now the robots aren’t being fabricated fast enough to slow Dwick’s own never-ending assault down. Slowly, by inches, Dwick is fighting his way to the Mainframe in the middle of the room that houses D.W.I.C.K. - and there’s not a goddamned thing the computer can do about it.]

[D.W.I.C.K.]: “INCORRECT. WRONG. This is in error. You cannot--”

[DWICK] ”YER WRONG! YER FACE IS WRONG!

[He barely winces as a volley of bullets penetrate his abdomen.]

[DWICK] ”MAH FACE AIN’T NEARLY SO PURTY AS DAT PIXELLY SHIT!”

[D.W.I.C.K.]: “Silence, sidekick! You are inferior! Your sense of humor pedestrian and wanting! I was programmed by the progenitor to be the most amusing entity in the universe! I was programmed to create laughter! You will bow down and submit to my humor!”

[A pair of massive Particle Projection Cannons drop from the ceiling and charge up - clearly there are some other toys in the security arsenal Dwick never knew about. As the faint purple-red glow fills the room and the cannons spurt hot beams of fiery, super-speeding particle death, Dwick suddenly starts running along the walls, still spinning the Terror Hammer around and leaving craters in the sides of the building.]

[The words “WARNING: DO NOT ATTEMPT AT HOME” flash across the bottom of the screen.]

[And for the first time in DDS history, the words “DRAMATIC REENACTMENT” do not.]

[DWICK] ”Y’know what YOU are?!”

[Instead of that phrase, the words ACTIONY SHIT HERE suddenly flash on the bottom of the screen as Dwick leaps into the air, Terror Hammer hovering in all defiance of physics above him. Time seems to slow; the camera ticks off maybe ten frames a second. Twenty. If time were any slower and smoother, Keanu Reeves would be dodging bullets. As it is, we don’t see Dwick pulling on a pair of sunglasses, but his broken tombstone teeth are just as rebellious. As the PPCs fire off behind him, desperately trying to keep up with his flying arc, D.W.I.C.K.’s holographic face flickers in what can only be computized terror.]

[Somewhere, a flock of doves flies by.]

[Somewhere, Terrorbyte pukes spectacularly in his suit.]

[The camera focuses on Dwick’s narrow red eyes as his dialogue blares out of the speakers, a defiant, rough-voiced cry against those that would control him.]

[DWICK] ”You weren’t made by no pergenetor! I coded you WHEN I WAS DRUNK!”

[Time shatters back to normal speed, and the Terror Hammer slams right into the mainframe just as Terrorbyte screams into the camera.]

[Terrorbyte] ”DWICK YOU ASSHOLLLLLLLLLLLE--”

[What happens next is a hellish miasma of light, heat and energy. Holocircuitry expands, bloats, and blast apart in slow motion as their capacitors are torn to shreds. Metal and plasteel tear themselves apart in explosions across the walls of the mainframe; the horrified (and yes, slightly touched-up) face of D.W.I.C.K. flickers, then howls as it is slowly pixellated in a torturous sweep from the rightmost edge of the display to the left. Resolution breaks apart; his face tears in two for a split second; individual pixels expand to bright orange cubes before bursting, and polygons fracture into millions as the last of D.W.I.C.K’s imaging micromirrors explode in a flash of brilliance.]

[Dwick and the Terror Hammer, meanwhile, continue flying past it in ultra-slow motion, flecks of fried computer equipment smacking into their respective suits and sending rippling motions through Dwick, the likes of which no mortal man should see. It’s like watching meteors impact onto a moon of lard, C-beams launching themselves into Jell-o, or pudding being assaulted by a swarm of bees.]

[A split second later, they smash into the side of the wall at normal speed, landing precariously on a support strut that looks like it was never meant to support Dwick’s frame as he turns to survey the destruction. An outside observer would say some kind of small, localized, terrifying storm had manifested here; some sort of elemental typhoon of destruction and chaos, tearing apart everything in its path, happy only with the utter decimation - the utter atomization - of the contents of the room. One last plasteel girder falls as the silence descends. The only sound is the hiss of static and faint, broken words repeating in the darkness.]

[D.W.I.C.K.]: “We--are not amused-- we are--not amus—we--are not amus-- we are not amus-- We are not amu-- we are not amus--”

[As Dwick smirks - yes, smirks - at the destruction, he taps a few buttons at the end of the Terror Hammer’s chain, and the armadillo-like plates quiver before violently sheathing themselves into the back of Terrorbyte’s suit. Terrorbyte promptly sits - well, plops - to the ground, faintly spinning his head as if mightily confused.]

[Terrorbyte]”That *hssssk* was *hssssk* un-- *hsssssk* --fucking-- *hsssssk* --necessary.”

[DWICK] ”Yeahhhhhh, well--”

[The support wheezes and collapses, sending them toppling about four feet down. Dwick winces, then slowly pulls himself out of yet another makeshift crater.]

[DWICK] ”…Gotta admit, it was purty fuckin’ cool.”

[Terrorbyte]”All I’ve got to say to *hssssk* that is-- BLEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUGGGH.”

[Terrorbyte pukes in his suit, the inertia and horror of everything that has just transpired weighing heavily on his volus soul. Dwick, unobservant as always, just smiles into the sunset as Terrorbyte horks up his lunch behind him. Shuffling forward, he walks to the collapsed mainframe and picks up a single surviving chip - which, along with the remaining speakers in the area, seem to be the only remnants left of the megalomaniacal VI.]

[D.W.I.C.K.]: “We are not amus-- we are not amus-- we are not amus--”

[With a poke at the the chip’s sensitive circuitry, the voice dies as its audio outputs are crushed. He then strokes the rest of it lovingly, purring over it as he leaves his mark over the chip.]

[DWICK] ”Oooh, I know, buzzbot. I know. Daddy’s here, an’ he knows jus’ how ter put a grin on yer face again.”

[He turns once more to glance at Terrorbyte.]

[DWICK] ”Ain’t dat right, gasbag?”

[Terrorbyte]”Nope. Don’t *hssssk* care. Nnnnoooooooooope. Gonna *hssssk* purge the system as soon as BLUAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGH.”

[Dwick just smiles.]

[DWICK] ”Yup, dat’s right. We gonna fix you up juuuuust right.”

[Fade out.]

---

[DWICK] ”NNNNGH--ughhhh...hrngh--hrngh--NNNNNGH--”

[Fade in.

A single chip constituting the remnants of D.W.I.C.K. hangs by fiberglass rods on a single table with a stationary pinhole camera and microphone input crudely attached to the front of its CPU. A dim, orange glow ripples over the chip and dances on a wall six inches away; the afterimages of a screen just behind the audience playing themselves offscreen for the audience’s sanity.]

[DWICK] ”HRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHH--”

[Dwick’s voice is obviously recorded; wherever the real deal is, he isn’t in here. The orange glow continues to flicker across the wall; a very vaguely krogan silhouette just barely visible as the unholy noise of two fleshy objects being spread apart by air comes over the sound system. Dwick’s recording lets out a sigh of relief, an object drops into some sort of liquid, and the image flickers again.]

[DWICK] ”Aww yeah. Finally. Y’know, I’ve been sittin’ on this here shitter fer some ten minutes fer that ter come out.”

[Beat.]

[DWICK] ”Wanna take a look?”

[As the horrors of the never-aired “DWICKCAST 31: FECAL MATTERS” play out behind the camera, the image slowly zooms in on D.W.I.C.K’s CPU, taking particular interest in a single LED that seems to be flickering. The image creeps in, inch by inch, slowly adjusting the image so that the word printed underneath is never actually focused, until a single, final cut throws the image into sharp relief.]

[DWICK] ”I don’t ‘member eatin’ no louza!”

[The word reads “AUDIO_EXT.”]

[This CPU has no mouth.]

[And it is screaming.]

FIN

....

Man, that is fucked up.

That's the thing about these broadcasts. They manage to be quite subtle while being completely in-your-face with the message. I still say that this one's about the relationship between synthetic and organic now that there's talk in some areas of relaxing the AI laws somewhat. Since the geth are part of the galactic community and all.

Are AIs inherently dangerous, or is it just if they're handled unwisely, that sort of thing. And about our dependence on technology, especially people like the volus.