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Code n 0 0 b by Skul



Code n 0 0 b: Chapter 1 - The Code
Date: 24 August 2006, 11:17 pm

Chapter 1 - The Code

      Sitting in his office in the Writers Guild of HBOFF, Skul raised the unlit cigarette and put it in his mouth as he read over Dean Albury's awful fanfic, being strangely amused by it. The utter chaos of the writing always brought a smile out of him. It was hard to believe that this was meant to be accepted as a real fanfic.

      Shaking his head in disbelief, Skul picked up a red-coloured lighter and was about to light the cigarette when a small stream of water shot out and hit him squarely between the eyes. He wiped the clear liquid off and glared at the lighter as though it had meant to soak him. He gave a heavy sigh and threw the joke lighter into a drawer and retrieved a silver butane lighter. He popped open the cover and ignited a flame.

      He took a drag from the cigarette and immediately started coughing. He stubbed out the white stick on his desk and then threw it into a nearby bin, all at once remembering that he didn't smoke. He patted his chest, coughed again, and continued reading about the Master Chief combating three battalions of Covenant troops.

      Skul had barely read four more words when his speakers produced a small ding, indicating an e-mail message. Minimising the window with the fanfic, Skul opened up his e-mail client and saw the subject line of the newest message -- URGENT: Code n 0 0 b.

      Code n 0 0 b? thought Skul, I think I've heard of this.

      Frowning in his adorable way, Skul clicked on the e-mail and started reading.

      Subject: URGENT: Code n 0 0 b
      To: Group-Members, Group-Moderators
      From: Admin

      Attention all members and moderators.

      It would appear that we are having a large influx of new members. However, that is not what this e-mail is about. The main focus is that many of these new members are being disrespectful when given constructive criticism and advice. Since this has been on the uprise, lately, I fear that we may be on the brink of a whole new n00b invasion. This is not for certain, so do not panic just yet, but be on your guard. We may, I say again, may see a second n00b war.

      For this reason, I have initiated Code n 0 0 b. Be on full alert near new members showing signs of n00bishness. Do not hesitate to report any suspicious activity.

      Let us hope it is not what we fear.

      Love,

      Louis Wu.


      Skul felt a chill run down his spine. He shivered and looked up and the leaky ceiling. Water pipes running above the member offices were leaking. More specifically, water pipes above his office were leaking.

      Skul stood up, moving his office chair out of the way of the dripping water as he did so, and walked out into the hall. He looked over to the nearest office opposite his. According to the metal plaque on the door, which was fully open, it belonged to Sterfrye36.

      "Hey, Ster," said Skul, waltzing into Sterfrye's office without asking, "I got an e-mail about—"

      "n00bs. Yes, I know," replied Sterfrye, cutting in smoothly, "Also, don't call me 'Ster' without asking if it's alright to do so. Same with entering my office."

      "Oh, sorry. How did you know what e-mail I got? Are you spying on me? Would it be alright if I called you 'Ster'? Is it okay for me to come into your office, right now? Are you busy?"

      Sterfrye paused, processing the multiple questions in his head and formulating answers before the sheer number of the queries Skul had thrown at him caused a severe case of confusion.

      "I know what e-mail you got because all members got it at the same time. No, I'm not spying on you. Yeah, I suppose it would be alright if you called me 'Ster'. You're in my office, now, so what's the point in asking? No, I'm not busy," Sterfrye replied, answering all five questions at once.

      Skul blinked.

      "…'kay."

      "Is there anything else you wanted?"

      "No, no, that's fine, thanks."

      "Then kindly leave. I need to finish this fanfic."

      "Really? What one is it?"

      Sterfrye swivelled slowly in his chair to face Skul. Glaring maliciously at the bone-headed author, he said in a low, dangerous voice, "If you don't already know… then you don't deserve to know…"

      "You'd better leave his office, Skul," said a nearby cleaner, sweeping the floor.

      Skul turned and looked over his shoulder at Dagorath, the part-time cleaner, part-time author and nodded, stepping backwards through the threshold with Sterfrye still glaring at him.

      Back into the relative safety of the hall, Skul felt more at ease. He had a sudden thought and turned to Dagorath.

      "Hey, Dag… why are you being a part-time cleaner when you know that we've got a perfectly good cleaner, already? I mean, it's not as if you get paid for it."

      Dagorath thought for a moment, leaning on his long-handled broom which, when raised upright as it was now, stood taller than him.

      Shrugging, Dagorath continued sweeping and said, "Keeps me busy, I suppose."

      "What about writing fanfics and such?"

      "Yeah, I like writing them, but, you know… cleaning's cleaning."

      This confused Skul a great deal and he was unsure how to respond.

      "Don't try asking anything else," the part-time cleaner said, smirking, "you'll just get even more confusing answers from me, because I like to do that, sometimes."

      "…Okay. By the way, the pipes above my office are leaking. It's getting pretty annoying when I'm trying to write my fanfics and look at por… uh… pork chop recipes…"

      Dagorath leaned his tall broom against his right shoulder and stretched.

      "I'll get that seen to, soon," he said, not meaning it, "Try putting some pots and pans down, in the meantime."

      "I guess I could try that," said Skul, wondering where he would get pots and pans, and walked back to his office as Dagorath continued sweeping.

      Skul sat down once more on his office chair and thought about the e-mail regarding Code n 0 0 b. A second coming of the n00bs? Surely not…?

      He thought back to when he just observed the happenings at HBOFF, before he became a member. A war was being fought -– a war that was ending.

      Skul knew he was lucky to appear at the tail end of the n00b wars. He wasn't sure he would ever have returned if the n00bs were swarming everywhere, ruining the smooth running of a place he now knew and loved. He was certain that if they were ever to return, he would join the fight against them.

      He had witnessed several stray n00bs wandering in, but they had quickly been turned back.

      Skul sat, enduring the Chinese water torture from his ceiling, hoping never to see a full-scale war break out around him.


menwhlile the nyoo leedar of the n00bbs spanihs spratan hoo him old leedar twinkie wot was been dafeetdi ony wuns bafore woz plottn him ravenj on teh fulez at hbo!!!11! and this tym!!!!! sed spnaish spartna this tym!!! nun of em r sarvyv ololo!11!!!1!1!


      Commander Demitri Wolf sat in his office, spinning around on his office chair, bored. His head was tilted upwards, facing the tiled ceiling, and he let out a bored expulsion of air. Abruptly, he stopped spinning. Had he heard something?

      Picking up his immaculately clean mirror-shades, Demitri slipped them on and stepped out into the hall. He looked over to the big window at the end of the hall not far from his office. Dagorath passed him with a bounce in his step.

      "Dag, did you hear anything outside?" Demitri asked as the author-cum-janitor bounced near.

      "Hear anything? No…" Dagorath turned his head and studied his reflection in Demitri's mirror-shades, brushing a few loose strands of hair back into place with his hand.

      "I could've sworn I heard… a voice, I think," said Demitri, frowning at Dagorath, who seemed to be smiling at him in a way Demitri didn't quite like.

      "Heh, you're going crazy," commented Dagorath, finally looking away from his double reflection.

      "Yeah, yeah," replied Demitri with a sigh, "but it sure seemed real. Maybe I'm just hearing things…?"

      The wolfy one stared out at the orange early evening sky, straining to hear the voice again, wondering if he had heard it in the first place.


littal did wolf no that he woz rite and had hered a nise but tha one that maed he nise waz called tk262!!!!11!11 he creepedded arund 2 cable teh jackels windo and undar it wnatin 2 meet him nemasis but waz telled not 2 do it becus it wz not time yet 2 fays him becuz it wuz the time isn ot rite



Code n 0 0 b: Chapter 2 - Gathering An Army
Date: 12 October 2006, 10:47 pm

Code n 0 0 b: Chapter 2




lol we is now almust redy 2 tayk teh hbo plaize 4 gid almost tim!!!11! seded spanash spratna taht he laff evil!!11 o no wot is him going 2 d?o


      Sitting in his office, hunkered down over his worktable, thedarkfire's nose wrinkled as he poured the gunpowder and gasoline into the fifth wedge of cheese. Gunpowder, gasoline and cheese mixing together do not make the most pleasant smell, but thedarkfire ignored it as best he could, as the cheese was his specialised weapon. He was able to mix the three substances together to make an extremely dangerous weapon – the Exploding Wedges of Cheese. They were excellent stealth weapons, too. After all, who would expect cheese to explode, even if it smelled of gasoline? A few people said they would expect a gasoline-smelling wedge of cheese to explode, but darkfire knew that they were just saying that to spite him.

      Squeezing the stopper back on the hollowed-out wedge of yellow dairy goodness, the one made of dark fire placed it carefully inside his crate of exploding cheese. Their combined smell wafted up from the crate, wrapping around him like a blanket. thedarkfire's eyes started watering, forcing him to open a window and get out of his office until the smell dissipated.


zomg we haf 2 starrt gettin teh forsas redy for atak on hbo!!1! sed spanihs spratan he grined evaly and luked ovur at him spshal choob taht cuntaynd.................... u wil had 2 wait nd c!!!!!!!!! ;)


      The Arbitress' nuclear reactor powered humvee came screeching to a halt at her reserved parking space inside the Moderator Car Park. She had just barely escaped from fanboys who, as usual, were amazed that a girl played Halo. They constantly asked her for a date, thinking that because Halo was a 'common interest', she would want to sleep with them based on just that. The Arbitress had managed to keep them at bay with her Energy Sword, but their loud jabbering in the shapeless language known, among other things, as 'AOL talk' caught the attention of many more scruffy, pre-pubescent males running to the scene, many with their faces painted like the Master Chief's helmet. They poured out of buildings, flooding the streets and alleys. Very few roads were left open and the fanboys were closing in quickly.

      Luckily, The Arbitress' humvee was parked only a few feet away. The nuclear reactor that powered her large, grey vehicle allowed her to escape the small-minded fanboys in a flash. She zoomed down the rapidly filling streets, scattering the fanboys in her path. They attempted to give chase, but were so uncoordinated that they ended up running into each other and falling over, cursing.

      As they were fumbling to get up, a silhouetted figure stepped into view, his features partially hidden in shadow by the setting sun blazing behind him. The fanboys turned their heads, frowning at the newcomer. The stranger pointed at them and said, stfu an lissan noobs!!!!11

      The Arbitress stepped out of her humvee. The ornate silver armour she wore gleamed, reflecting the glare from the circular ceiling-mounted lights. She took a deep breath, inhaling the lingering odour of premium plus gasoline, and exhaled, glad to be far away from the fanboys. As she walked to the nearby elevator, she shook her head in amazement. All she had wanted was a bottle of Romulan Ale – which was actually Listerine mouthwash – and had ended up getting mobbed by fanboys as soon as they learned she played Halo. The found this out the moment they saw her armour, which was an exact replica of the Arbiter's.

      Arbi... she thought dreamily, drinking the 'Romulan Ale' and waiting for the elevator.


      Mark25 sat at his computer, responding to a recent fanfic, mentioning numerous times how illogical many elements of the fic were. Skul had jokingly suggested to Mark that he should get a pair of Vulcan ears.

      "You're 'Mister Logic', aren't you? Why not get the image to go with it? Get some Vulcan ears and maybe start plucking your eyebrows. Hell, get a Starfleet uniform, too!" Skul had said, grinning.

      The bone-headed member woke up in a trashcan outside HBOFF half-an-hour later with a splitting headache. Ark Night was the one who found him and pulled the garbage-smelling member out of the cylindrical refuse receptacle.

      "What did you do this time?" asked Ark, wrinkling his nose at the smell.

      "I told Mark he was always too logical," replied Skul, leaning against the bricked exterior wall of the HBOFF building.

      "Mark doesn't seem like the kind to knock people out and throw them in trashcans for that kind of thing. He's crazy, but not that crazy! What else did you say?" asked Ark, folding his arms.

      Skul scratched the back of his head, about to relate what he had said, when he yelled out as he accidentally raked his fingernails over the sensitive bump half-hidden under his short hair.

      "Ow! Damn it, ow! Shit!" profaned Skul, touching the bump lightly and drawing his hand away sharply, as though it burned, "Ow… anyway, I said to Mark that he should get some Vulcan ears and--"

      Ark cut him off, "You had to go too far, didn't you, Skully-boy? Mark's sensitive about his logic, don't you know? Didn't I tell you not to make fun of it?"

      "Well, actually… no, you didn't."

      "I didn't? Damn. Well, I'll do that now. Don't make fun of Mark's logic. He's sensitive about it."

      "Alrighty…" replied Skul, nodding and followed Ark back into the building.


spaisnh spartan loked arund him an dthot I ened mor troops so he is went owt nd fund a lot of ppl he ask em who they are an thay saty thay hayt reedin coz its 4 loosers wot r stoopedso spniash spartan pratnedid he hated 2 reed 2 and gotem to joyn hos armee uf n00bz!!1!1!!!!!! thay wud bee yoosfool coz they wuz a bit of smrt but nto as smatr as him but smurter then must of him n09b armee thay wud bee yoosfool!!!1111!1


      Night was falling and most of HBO's members and staff were leaving, BlasTech among them. He passed Jillybean's office, which, like all other Moderator offices, had a gold plaque with their name engraved in it on the door. Under her name, Jilly had added a small, handwritten note saying 'I do NOT look like Cortana!'

      Dave noticed that her office's light was still on. He thought it odd, since she had usually left by this time. He stopped by her door and leaned his huge Ban Hammer against the sturdy oak panelling. Peering closely, he could very vaguely make out a shape through the frosted glass. Rapping lightly on the door, he called out, "Jilly? Is that you in there?"

      "Yeah," came her reply.

      "You leaving, soon?"

      "Maybe in a little while. I'm gonna stick around here for a bit."

      "Okay, see you tomorrow."

      Jilly's faint, blurry image waved a goodbye to him and Dave returned the gesture before hefting up his Ban Hammer and continuing on his way to the exit.

      Inside her office, the walls almost completely hidden under numerous photographs – one of which was a picture of she and The Arbitress in the HBO Tavern – Jilly worked away at her new, as yet, unpublished site. It was still far from complete, but she worked on it whenever she could. What she was creating was not a fansite, but rather a hatesite for the one thing she despised more than anything else – Cortana. To Jilly's knowledge, her site was the only one dedicated entirely to hating the blue-purple hologram.

      This'll teach her to steal my lipstick! That bitch! thought Jilly, angrily.

      Outside, hiding in the shadows of the night, a figure watched Jilly through the window of her office, spying on her for no real reason. As the figure continued to peer in, just outside the radius of light beaming through the window, a thought formed in the slow mind.

she loks lyke curtana lol!!Q!!1



Code n 0 0 b: Chapter 3 - Worst Contact
Date: 15 December 2006, 12:05 am

Code n 0 0 b: Chapter 3




      Mech walked along the well-lit halls of the Writers Guild, his eyelids drooping. It had been a long, hard day of reading and writing, but like the rest of them in the massive building, he endured it.

      He perked up when he saw something shining on the floor.

      "Hey, is that a rare coin worth millions?" he asked to nobody in particular.

      Mech bent over to pick it up with a bright expression on his face. Moments after he had bent over – a position any angry ram would have taken advantage of – a large, sharp blade whizzed past where his neck had just been.

      Mech, not noticing the blade, peered closer at the object on the floor and sighed, disappointedly, "No, it's a bottle cap…"

      He straightened just as a huge spike sprang out of the wall where Mech's head had been positioned in three-dimensional space a moment before and then retracted. Mech never saw the spike, what with the deadly object being out of his field-of-vision as it was.

      Continuing on his way to the elevators, his eyelids dropping again, Mech stepped on a well-positioned banana peel… and continued walking, unaware of the yellow fruit skin. He entered the elevator, not hearing the gunshot or the impact of the bullet on the hardwood inside the elevator as he reached over to press the ground floor button.


      "Banana peel? What the hell were you thinking with a banana peel?" asked Sev Lover One, incredulously.

      "Well, I thought he would, you know, slip on it so we could, you know, kill him, you know?" answered Sev Lover Two.

      "Banana peels don't make you slip up, dimwit!"

      "They do on TV, in cartoons and stuff."

      "Cartoons aren't real life! Don't base stuff on cartoons! What are you doing watching them at your age, anyway?"

      "They're funny!" said Sev Lover Two, defiantly.

      "I don't care! And stop talking defiantly, you sound stupid when you do."

      "Okay, okay," Sev Lover Two responded, less defiantly.

      "Well, whatever. Let's just go home. We'll get him, tomorrow," said Sev Lover One with an evil grin, "Oh, yes… tomorrow… mark my words. Tomorrow we will get him. Getting him tomorrow is what we will do, I guarantee it. Definitely tomorrow, that is the time we'll get him…"

      Sev Lover One rambled on about the same thing for several minutes while Sev Lover Two got in the elevator, hit the ground floor button and went home.


so wots are part asked teh guy taht woz part of tema dat wood be tellan tha hbo fulez taht reedin iz bowrin nd crap nd gay nd 4 loosers!!1!!1! ok well do that coz its troo seded da guyy wot woz on tahat team lol, they wall be 2 bizay tellan thos guyz taht r not crap an gay and i wil destory tehm!11!!! sed psanish saptan


      The next morning, me came in







      Skul woke up much later after being beaten around the head for what was mistaken to be bad grammar when in actual fact, he was talking about the HBO member me. Dragging himself back to the keyboard, Skul resumed typing:

      …me came in, his head nodding. Earphones were snugly settled in his ears, the phones themselves connected to an MP3 player. The small device, capable of holding an unfathomable amount of MP3s, was sending its electrical signals through the earphones' wires and turned the signals into Denis Leary's Asshole.

      "I'm an asshole!" me unconsciously yelled as he passed Demitri.

      "We know. Shut up," said a grumpy Demitri, who hadn't had a good night's sleep, but me never heard him and entered his own office, still yelling along to Mr. Leary's gravelly voice.


      Rabid Gallagher was walking through the dimly lit underground parking lot at a leisurely pace when a soft sound on his right caught his attention.

      "Who's that?" he asked, casually, assuming it was a colleague. There was no answer, even though he had called loudly enough for his voice to carry around the enclosed space clearly.

      "Hello?" he called out, feeling uneasy. He waited, listening. There was no sound apart from the nearly inaudible buzzing of the lights overhead, lights that did little to brighten the drab yellowish-brown of the cement that made up the parking lot's walls, discoloured by years of exhaust fumes.

      Gallagher walked towards the sound, his movements slow and cautious. He drew his sidearm and held it low. All members and staff were required to wear a sidearm after the announcement of Code n 0 0 b.

      Peering past a row of parked vehicles, Gallagher saw a figure crouching next to a Warthog.

      "Who are you?"

"u cant see me im hidinh!!!1!"

      Gallagher's jaw dropped at the sound of the figure's voice, or rather at the sight of the figure's bad grammar, punctuation and spelling, which Gallagher was somehow able to see.

      He levelled his gun at the creature that was clearly not human. It was a n00b.

"nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh dont shout me!!11!1

      The HBO member couldn't concentrate. The n00b had forgotten to close its dialogue. In essence, it was narrating the story.

      "Close your dialogue, you twit!" yelled Rabid Gallagher.

      The n00b huffed, but complied.

"

      "That's better," said Gallagher and then squeezed off a round into the n00b. The illiterate wannabe writer screamed and clutched its chest. It looked down and saw its vile blood coursing down its chest. It looked up at Gallagher with hate in its blank eyes, cried "h4x!!11!" and then fell to the ground, lifeless.

      A n00b. Great… thought Gallagher.

      Something told him this wouldn't be the last n00b he would have to kill. Holstering his weapon, he ran to the elevators; he had to let his comrades know that their security had been compromised.

      Gallagher entered the elevator, punched the button for the fifth floor and scratched his nose.

      The elevator doors closed, preventing the HBO member from seeing several sneaking, stealthy, slinking, shadowy shapes emerge from many different hiding places; behind cars, pillars, vents, walls… and… well, that's it.

      …From a few different hiding places…

      "Commander ss," whispered one of the shapes, "this is lolwtf skwod. Nameless n00b thirty-four has been killed by one of those stupid 'readers'. Over."

"omg hax!!!!!1!1!"""

      "Er… yeah. Orders?"

"KILL UM!1!!1Q"!

      "How about we sneak around and try to gather Intel, instead?"

"……………………………………..k"

      "Alright, then. lolwtf skwod out."



Code n 0 0 b: Chapter 4 - HBOperative
Date: 6 April 2007, 12:03 am

Code n 0 0 b: Chapter 4




"n00bs! They're able to get through our defences!" Rabid Gallagher cried again.

"I heard you the fourteenth time!" Syotica cried back.

"You had us at 'Hello'!" said Skul with a snigger.

"Shutup," said Syotica curtly without glancing at Skul who was standing in the doorway of Syotica's office. The office was filled with Japanese calligraphy. It was on every wall, covered most of the inside of the office's door and was stencilled on the white PC tower. On the back wall was a shelf on which a beautiful sword lay. Light glinted off its clean, sharp blade. Underneath the sword on another shelf was the sheath. The black surface of the sheath had golden Japanese characters flowing gracefully across it.

Syotica frowned and turned to face Skul, "What are you doing here, anyway? Stop standing in peoples' doorways! Get back to writing!"

"Okay, okay…" muttered everybody's bone-headed buddy and Skulked off. He would have been writing if it he hadn't come down with a serious case of Writer's Block. All the cures he had read of hadn't worked… mainly because he never tried them.

"Alright," said Syotica, turning back to Rabid Gallagher, "so what you're trying to say is n00bs are able to get through our defences?"

"Well, that's gist of it, yeah," said Gallagher.

"Just the gist? Tell me the whole thing."

"I was being sarcastic," said Gallagher, rolling his eyes, "Listen, are we gonna do something or not? I vote for doing something."

"We will, we will. I just have to report this to Wado, first."

"Right. What should we do in the meantime?"

"Nothing. Just go about your business and don't tell anybody anything. The last thing we need is people getting peeved because of some n00bs."

"Nothing? But…!"

Syotica cut him off, "We've got a man on the inside."

"What do you mean?"

"We have a sleeper agent within the n00b ranks. His name is Sebasman. He's been feeding us Intel for a while, now."

Gallagher sighed heavily, "Alright. I won't tell anyone."

"And make sure that idiot Skul doesn't go blabbing it to everyone," said Syotica, frowning.

Gallagher waved a dismissive hand, "Aah, he's probably forgotten it, anyway."

"Just make sure," said Syotica, jabbing his finger at Rabid Gallagher with each word, which Gallagher thought was rather unnecessary.


Skul stopped in the middle of the hallway leading to the parking garage – he had gotten lost again – and scratched his head while having an exaggerated look of confusion on his face.

"Hmmm… I seem to have forgotten that I overheard a conversation between Syotica and Rabid Gallagher concerning n00bs breaking through our perimeter. Oh well, I'll probably remember it later…"

Skul continued to search for his office as he wandered the very un-mazelike hallways of the HBOFF building.


Sebasman walked freely among the n00bs in their main base, which was known only as Posting Practice, or PP, with many a n00b making the same unfunny jokes about the abbreviation sounding like a name for urine.

Seb had been sent in as a sleeper agent for HBOFF. He was to send back any information every few weeks. If the matter was more urgent, he was to make contact at the soonest possible convenience.

The many n00bs never gave Seb a second glance, or even a first one, as he was dressed exactly like them. Despite his skin not being a freakish green-brown colour and the rest of his body lacking any kind of mutation real n00bs get when they are transformed into the strange, illiterate and rude creatures they are, he was able to do anything and go anywhere. As long as he did n00bish things and talked in a garbled language that vaguely resembled English with the very occasional "lol" and "wtf" thrown in, he was indistinguishable from a real n00b. To the foul creatures themselves, at any rate. He was lucky none of the Anti-Reading nor the Fanboy sections of the n00b army wanted to enter the Posting Practice building. Stupid as they were, he would stick out like a sore thumb to them. When asked how he felt about this lucky turn of events, Sebasman always began with, "Well, there was this plot contrivance, you see…"

The man of Sebas noticed that he was suddenly not as able to go anywhere he pleased as he once was; a single area was off-limits. Once the n00b leader had began formulating his plan, spanish spartan had made it clear, in a way, that nobody was to enter his office, not even the n00bs he granted permission to. The not-too-great one was in his office – which happened to be the first ever thread in Posting Practice – the majority of the time, Sebasman noticed. He would have to use this to his advantage, somehow. He couldn't think how at the current moment – there was something more pressing on his mind.

One time, he had walked openly into the unguarded basement of Posting Practice. Inside, he saw six gigantic, yet non-descript vats filled with a thick, green fluid. Badly painted on the sides of the containers was the name of the substance. In large, bright-green, yellow, pink and sky-blue letters were the words n00bius stereotypicos lol. The n00bs were creating the dreaded virus right in their own base. It was inconceivable that they had managed to create so much of it. However, with their plot holes, the creation process did not matter and the reason why the basement of Posting Practice had enough space for six huge vats did not have to exist. The plot holes were convenient to the n00bs. They used these reality-bending techniques unconsciously, without realising it. Plot holes were always dangerous to writers, as reasons for things do not have to exist. Good writers make sure to avoid using these convenience devices, since they degrade the overall quality of the story, despite them making the writing of the story easier – they don't need good reasons for anything.

If n00bs realised they could use plot holes to create whatever they wanted, to bend the very existence of storytelling to their will, every writer would be in for a world of hurt, including the n00bs, themselves. Plot holes are powerful devices, but they are made from the essence of bad storytelling. They are pure evil – the Dark Side of writing. Nobody knows what would happen if too many were used in a short story and nobody was willing to find out. Whatever would happen, it would be much worse than the story simply turning out to be freakin' horrible.

Unfortunately for Sebasman, the vats weren't the end of it. There was something worse in store for HBOFF, maybe even for HBO, itself. In the back of the basement, he had found a door, which opened to a plain corridor. At the end of the corridor was another door that lead to a generic laboratory. On the far wall, there was a large tube containing an abomination to everything writing stands for. Vats of n00bius stereotypicos, plus a tube containing that… thing… counted as urgent in Seb's book (only $19.99, plus shipping).

Managing to find himself a secluded area away from the hordes of the n00b army, Sebasman opened a COM link with HBOFF.

"Come in, Ark. This is Active Camo, repeat, this is Active Camo, come in."

Syotica's voice crackled through the COM link, "Active Camo, this is Ark. Your signal is very weak."

"Probably due to the increased n00bishness of the place, sir. Almost anything of good quality can't enter or exist here."

"Hmmm. I suppose we can take that as a compliment about our COM technology. Anyway, what is it? You reported in only two days ago with nothing. I assume you've found something important…?"

"Yeah," replied Sebasman, "I've not only found something important, I've also found something horrible. You won't believe this..."

"What is it?"

"Well…" Sebasman licked his lips, "it's something that we thought was dead."

"EXPost?"

"Er… no, not quite."

"Oh. Well, whatever. Just hurry up and tell me what you've found."

"Well, there are huge vats in the basement of the n00b HQ. They're filled with the n00bius stereotypicos virus."

"You're… kidding…!"

"I wish I was, sir. But that's not the worst of it."

Their came a crackling sigh from the other end of the transmission, "What's next?"

"I took a look inside a laboratory that is also located inside their basement. I found a big tube with something awful inside. The thing that's inside is..." Sebasman paused.

Syotica wished he had saved his earlier sigh for now, "What? Stop trying to build suspense!"

Sebasman took a deep breath, "The thing inside it… is t—"

Sy heard only static, "Hello? Active Camo? Are you there?"

Silence except for the angry, harsh hiss of static.

"Oh, for the love of...!" Syotica punched a convenient nearby wall, "Damn clichés!"

As his face slowly contorted into an expression of slight pain, Sy grabbed his hand by the wrist, ringing his aching fist.

"Owww…" he moaned.



Code n 0 0 b: Chapter 5 - n00bfiltration
Date: 27 July 2007, 1:44 am

Code n 0 0 b: Chapter 5




                              INT. HBO TAVERN – DAY

                        (COLD BLOODED is sitting at the bar)

                                    COLD BLOODED
                                    (to AZRAEL)
                              Az! Get your ass over here!

                                          AZRAEL
                  (Behind bar, walking towards COLD BLOODED)
                                    What's up?

                                    COLD BLOODED
                                    (to AZRAEL)
                  It's about time. Get me a drink, would y… hold on…

                                          AZRAEL
                              (to COLD BLOODED)
                                          What?

                                    COLD BLOODED
                                    (to AZRAEL)
            Why the hell is this being written like a screenplay?

                                          AZRAEL
                              (to COLD BLOODED)
                                    Hey, you're right!

(AZRAEL and COLD BLOODED look around the bar and see Skul typing away at a laptop)

                                    COLD BLOODED
                                          (to SKUL)
                  Skul! Stop typing this like a screenplay!

                                          AZRAEL
                                          (to SKUL)
            Yeah! Type normally! Don't make me come over there!

                                          SKUL
                        (to AZRAEL and COLD BLOODED)
                                    Alright, alright…

            (Skul stops typing the chapter out like a screenplay)

      There was no detectable change, but everyone in the HBO Tavern instantly knew that the chapter was now being written normally. Or at least as normally as Skul could write.

      CoLd sighed with relief, "That's better."

      "Definitely. Now, what were you saying?"

      "I was about to ask for a drink."

      "Alright, what would you like?"

      "The usual…"

      "You don't have a usual."

      "I don't? Damn," CoLd rubbed his chin, not because he was thinking, but because a small boil had suddenly and inexplicably sprouted there during his last visit to the tavern's restroom.

      "Well, make my next order the usual," continued the one with lower-than-normal-temperature blood before ordering his favourite brew, which Skul didn't know and so couldn't type in.

      Azrael placed a tall glass of Drink in front of CoLd.

      "Anything else?" asked the tavern barman.

      "Um… no, no."

      "Go on. What's on your mind?" inquired Az, leaning forward.

      "Well…" CoLd lowered his voice, "I heard rumours that n00bs are amassing an army."

      "Oh, come on. They're n00bs, what can they possibly do?"

      "Remember the last time they attacked us en masse? A full-scale war broke out!"

      "Yeah, but they weren't very successful, were they? They're too stupid to try that again, especially with… him gone."

      "There's no such thing as 'too stupid' with n00bs," said CoLd, "Even with… him no longer in charge of them, that doesn't mean they're going to give up. They're still going to try to take over HBOFF for no apparent reason…"

      "Don't be a schmuck," said Azrael, leaning back past his centre of gravity thanks to the magnetic boots he was wearing sticking firmly to the nails in the floorboards, "Just drink your drink."

      "You'd better hope they don't decide to attack," said CoLd, lifting his glass of Drink.


liek lol they r gonna dei! seded spansh spartatatan "we r tek ovur the forumz nd the will sai uz stoires r gr8 an well laff atum"!!! "good plane " sed an nerby n00b wot wiz nerby "lol i know" laffded spansih spataran wif a hapy lok on him arngry fase!


      "Holy shit," said the lolwtf skwod leader in disgust, "look at all this crap!"

      The squad, made up of three anti-readers, three fanboys and two n00blings, stood behind a bookshelf in the HBOFF Story Archive.

      "Man, I've never felt so sick since I was forced to stand in a… library… ugh," said lolwtf-2.

      "No swearing," said lolwtf-1, with a slight smirk, amused at his own joke.

      "Heh. Sorry about saying the 'L' word. You know, I suppose this in a way is a… a…" lolwtf-2 thought hard and came up with, "crapary."

      "I guess, yeah," replied lolwtf-1, nodding his head, then turned and hissed, "Hey, come back here, you stupid kid!"

      One of the fanboys was walking, mouth agape, towards a large, high-resolution screenshot of the Master Chief hanging on one of the walls of the Story Archive.

      The fanboy turned at the sound of his squad leader's voice, sighed, and then rejoined his squad.

      "Don't walk out into the open, you idiot! One of those dumbass readers could walk in and see you!"

      As if on cue, the archive door opened soundlessly and in strode a huge solitary figure in a trenchcoat carrying a large, brown sack. Laying the sack down on the ground, the figure withdrew seven books. There was also a bulky file that looked a lot like a screenplay, mainly because it was one.

      The large figure, features hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat that cast black shadows on his face, placed the books and screenplay on the shelves of one of the bookcases.

      "Another Friday fanfiction update finished," said the large figure, placing his hands on his hips and seeming to glow with an aura of power – Administrative power.

      The trenchcoat-wearing, fanfiction-updating, aura-of-power-having goliath stalked back out of the Story Archive after picking his sack up.

      He stopped at the threshold of the room and turned around slowly. The n00b squad slid out of view as quickly and as quietly as possible, two of the members clamping their hands over the mouths of the n00blings, clutching them tightly to avoid them from yelling out or exposing themselves.

      The figure scanned the room slowly and thoroughly with his powerful eyes. Frowning, he turned back to the door and stepped through it, leaving the room empty, save for the lolwtf skwod.

      lolwtf-1 sighed with relief and said, "…Shit. What the hell was that thing? An admin? I hate those bastards."

      "Come on!" said lolwtf-3, impatiently, "Let's burn all these books!"

      "No," replied lolwtf-1, "Although I completely agree with your thinking, we're here to gather intelligence. Seeing as how we're much smarter then the readers, and I mean much smarter then them, it should be no problem."

      "Uh, sir? Don't take this the wrong way, but shouldn't it be 'smarter than them', not 'then them'…?" asked lolwtf-2.

      lolwtf-1 glared at him.

      "No, you were right – then is the right word," said lolwtf-2, suddenly taking a great interest in the carpet.

      "Okay, I think we should be able to pass for readers if we just pretend that we like boring books and enjoy reading," said lolwtf-1, "You two n00bs… you'll be a liability, so you wait in the parking garage.

      The lolwtf-skwod leader motioned to a fanboy, "lolwtf-5, take them down there, hide them and then meet us back here."

      "Sure!" said the fanboy in a bright, cheerful tone before leading the n00blings back towards the parking garage.

      "And don't do anything to expose yourselves, you stupid n00bs!" lolwtf-1 said to them as they walked away.

      With the small group gone, the skwod leader turned to his team, "Alright, I think we can reveal ourselves, now. Don't blow our cover. If they ask you what story you like, ask them which one they like and say you like it, too. That should get you out of most situations. I'd recommend trying not to get into a conversation with them in the first place."

      "No danger of that. They'd probably bore us to death with big speeches about what books they like and how awesome a story is because it has a huge load of words. No way am I going to talk to them, not if I can help it."

      "Heh, yeah. I can imagine them sitting in here, reading a book. Just sitting there, looking at words! Come on, how boring is that?"

      "But sooo interesting," said lolwtf-3, "Words in a book! Brilliant! I'll look at them some more!"

      The anti-reader then pretended to hold a book and stared at the empty space between his hands with an incredibly stupid look on his face, "Duhhh, words! Huh huh huh! A load of words is in here! Duhhh!"

      The anti-readers laughed, feeling superior. The fanboys, not fully understanding what the anti-readers were laughing about, joined in the laughter, wanting to be 'in on the joke', themselves.

      "Ohhh, reading sucks…" sighed lolwtf-1 with a smile on his face.



Code n 0 0 b: Chapter 6 - Quite A Catch
Date: 29 February 2008, 1:40 am

Code n 0 0 b: Chapter 6




      INT. HBOFF BUILDING - DAY

      "NO!" yelled the audience.

      "Sorry…" apologised Skul.


      Imperorator_Jon entered the Story Archive, totally unaware of the anti-readers and fanboys hiding behind a bookshelf.


      "Okay, there's one of them," whispered lolwtf-1, "I'm going out there. If he comes over here, pretend you're looking for a… a book… to… ugh… read."

      lolwtf-1 took a deep breath and then walked out into the open.


      Seeing something out of the corner of his eye, Jon turned his head and caught sight of a solitary figure who walked as if he wasn't too comfortable being inside the Story Archive.

      "Hey!" Jon called out.

      lolwtf-1 stopped and turned.

      Okay, this is it… he thought.

      "Haven't seen you around, before," said Jon.

      "…Uh, yeah. I'm… I'm new," lolwtf-1 replied.

      "Oh, then welcome!"

      "Uh, thanks," said the lolwtf skwod leader before turning away and pretending to look through fanfics lining a nearby wall.

      "Looking for something to read?" asked Jon.

      The anti-reader's jaw clenched and he balled his hands into fists briefly. Acting as if he hadn't heard, lolwtf-1 continued to feign interest in the fanfics.

      "I know a couple of good fics you might enjoy," said Jon, walking over to what he thought was a new member.

      "Okay…" said lolwtf-1 through clenched teeth. He looked over his shoulder at the others and raised his eyebrows. The lolwtf skwod members understood and started to also feign interest in the many various fics in the Story Archive.

      Jon reached the skwod leader and looked over at the others.

      "Oh, there's more of you," said the HBOFF member with slight surprise, "More members every day, heh. Anyway, let's see. There's a few good fics in this very bookshelf. Where are they?"

      "I don't want to bother you. Just tell me the names and I'll find them myself," said lolwtf-1, forcing himself to hold back a punch he wanted to throw at Jon.

      "No, no, I don't mind helping new members."

      The doors of the Story Archive opened and the fanboy lolwtf-1 had sent down to hide the n00bs earlier walked in.

      "Hey, skwod leader!" said the fanboy, totally oblivious to the fact that there was someone he had never seen before standing next to lolwtf-1, "I hid the n00bs in the garage like you said."

      Jon looked from the fanboy to lolwtf-1, to the fanboy and back again.

      "What did he just say?" asked Jon, jerking a thumb towards the fanboy.

      "Uh… I… I have no idea. Kid, what are you talking about? I don't even know you."

      "Sure you do!" said the fanboy, not picking up the visual messages on his skwod leader's face, "I'm part of your skwod sent in by—"

      "I have no idea who you are or what you're talking about, so shut up!" yelled lolwtf-1.

      Jon slowly backed towards the door, "I just remembered something, so, uh… I got to… a thing I have to do…"

      lolwtf-1 stared at him for a moment, then cried, "Get 'im!"

      Wasting no time, Jon drew his sidearm and pointed it at the approaching anti-readers. They stopped, not wanting to risk getting shot.

      The fanboys simply stood watching, jaws agape, at the scene before them. It was almost like something out of a movie.

      The fanboy nearest Jon, who was close to the door, started to insert his own 'action music' by saying "dun dun da daaa, da da da daaa da" over and over.

      Everyone slowly looked over at him and he quickly stopped.

      "Don't just stand there, idiot," cried lolwtf-1, "Get 'im!"

      The fanboy looked at his leader, then to Jon and back and said "Okay!"

      He rushed forward and was knocked down when Jon shoved him back with his hand without losing his aim at the anti-readers.

      "Well, what are you going to do? Kill us all?" asked lolwtf-1.

      "No, you're more useful to us alive," replied Jon.

      The HBO member backed up towards a wall-mounted intercom.

      He pressed the red button and spoke, "This is Imperorator_Jon. I've got some intruders here in the Story Archive. Apparently, there are also some n00bs hidden in the garage."

      "Roger that, Jon. Security is on its way."

      Jon released the button and watched the lolwtf skwod carefully. The anti-readers did not react and just glared. The fanboys got bored standing around and sat on the floor.


      The security guards soon appeared and took the members of lolwtf skwod out of the Story Archive.

      "Did you get the n00bs?" asked Jon.

      "We've sent some guys down to the parking garage. We'll have them, soon," replied a guard.

      Jon nodded and the security guard left with the others. When the doors closed, the HBOFF member started looking through the updated fanfics.


      "Stop laughing! Shut up!" cried Syotica.

"lulz!!1! j00 r teeh sux!!11!" slobbered the n00b, sitting handcuffed on a chair.

      "Just tell us who sent you, already!"

"rofl sum guy rofl!!1!!!11"

      Syotica sighed. The anti-readers refused to speak and the fanboys had no idea what was going on. The only ones left to interrogate were the n00bs. Syotica had a feeling the n00bs weren't going to be much use to them.

      "Alright, take him away," said Syotica to the guard.

      Just as the guard was leading the n00b back to its cell, the door opened and an out-of-breath Mainevent stumbled in.

      "Sorry I'm late," he puffed.

      "Where you been?" asked Syotica, looking over his shoulder.

      "I couldn't log in for a while."

      "Well, you wanna give this n00b a try?" asked Syotica, nodding his head over at the n00b who was standing by the guard, "I can't get anything out of it."

      "Alright. Sit it down."

      The n00b let itself be lead back over to the chair and sat down.

      "Alright, n00by," said Mainevent, "Let's talk."

"kk"

      "First, I would just like to get to know you. I'm going to ask a bunch of questions… and I want to have them answered immediately."

      "Please don't do Schwarzenegger references…" said Syotica.

      "Sorry," Main turned to the n00b, "You like to play Halo, right?"

"no lol"

      "What? No?"

"lololollololol!!!!1!"

      Mainevent gave the n00b a mild slap.

"owwwwww!!!!!1!!1"

      "Let's try again."

      The n00b looked angrily at the HBOFF member.

      "Now, my young n00b. What do you like to play?"

"pokémon!"

      "Pokeyman! Pokeyman, with the Pokey and the Man and the thing where the guy comes out of the thing, and he makes a fraaagh fr fra aagh aagh aagh!"

      "The hell was that?" asked Syotica.

      "Um…"

      "Well, that bout of craziness didn't do anything."

      "It could have…"

      "Yeah, but it didn't."

      "True."

      "Look, we'll try again, later. They'll break."

      "Wait, didn't we find a radio on one of them?"

      "Yeah?"

      "Couldn't we maybe… radio out and try to trace the source of the incoming transmission?"

      Syotica thought for a moment.

      "Maybe. I'll have to talk it over with the other Moderators. Don't try anything until then."

      "Sure, sure."


"where iz tehy??/??!?!!11!!??!11" sout spnish sptarna. "dey soud b her buy now"!!111!! "sont wury sur sed an humbal minyin "i am shore dey iz on awy bak!!1!" "yes I fink u r rite tanks 4 enkurijment faytful minin!1!!!!" and spinach spratatan huged teh minyin " we r conkur emn!!1!!!"





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