Another Gundam Character Party! :Redux:

[Folken Fanel]

It is the hundreth year of the Colonial Era, and for the past eleven months, the Human Federation has been at war with a mysterious enemy from space. Though it is known they are human, little else has been discovered about the Federation's newest enemy. This enemy, which calls itself the Fandom, uses new humanoid weapons known as mobile suits to fight its wars. After crippling the Federation's space forces, the Fandom has used its mobile suits to wage a war of attrition on the Earth's surface.

Forced to play catch-up, the Federation has built several top tier mobile suits to combat the Fandom advance. However, the one component lacking in these machines are pilots, and for that the Federation has finally found a solution...from another universe.


He was sitting in his room, typing away at a reply to one of the topics on Mechatalk. Pausing for a moment, he took a long swig from the glass of chocolate milk before him and wiped his mouth before putting the finishing touches on his post. Tab, enter, and presto!, one more post for Folken.

"Mom!," he called, "I need some more chocolate milk, please!"

He heard his mother coming up the stairs, and then there was a bright, blinding flash of light. He was momentarily blinded, and after recovering his sight, exclaimed, "Where the h-e double hockey sticks am I?"

(Veteran members of the board should know what to do next. And, before anyone thinks about locking this, I got Chris and Heretic's permission first.)

[The Big Zabowski]

He was sprawled out on the love seat, drool hanging from his lips as he snoozed the lazy sunday afternoon away in his apartment. It was the dead of a Michigan winter, 30 degrees out and a bunch of snow on the ground. In his head, he was dreaming of spring break, and how he'd finally get his taxes and bills paid so that he could go have some care-free fun without them hanging over his head..and his parents nagging too.

"Ah, num num num.."

He rolled slightly on the couch, and with a bright flash of light landed on the floor of a large dome like structure.

*THUD*

"C**TLUCKER; WHAT THE HELL!?"

...

Zabo shielded his face as a bright light shown down from above, the trio of lamps looking kind of like the tri-force. Cool huh?

He blinked and sat up, rubbing the back of his head as he looked to his left and his right. On his right he saw another person, a kid about 15 or 16 being helped up by what looked like Nuclear reactor operators. It was then that two others approached him and assisted him in standing. He simply shrugged them off, brushing off his AE track jacket and bootcut jeans before grabbing his flat cap and plopping it back on his head.

"Uh, take me to your leader?"

The two suited guys looked at each other and shook their heads, one of them pulling off HER helmet and crooking an arm at her side.

"Well, I'm sure he'd like to meet you and Folken, Zabo."

"..Zabo? Just who in the hell are you supposed to be? The AA Polezi or somethin'?"

The chick, probably no more than 23 giggled and pushed Zabowski along toward an arched doorway at the right of the room, while the other two men fussed with Folken back on his pad thing.

"Alright, alright..I'm goin'" Said Zabo, his hands up in a mocking "I surrender" gesture.

[Folken Fanel]

Folken watched as there was another surge of energy on a platform across from him, and another person appeared. After some quick dialog between the newcomer and another engineer, he put up his hands in a mock surrender.

"I don't think you need to do that," he said to the newcomer, who had been called Zabo. His name sounded familiar, but Folken brushed it off as coincidence.

"Anybody wanna tell me where we are and why my hair's standing on end?"

One of the engineers fussing about him looked at him and said, "Please step away from the trans-dimensional teleporter, and into the decontamination room."

Folken's mouth dropped and he hurried off the platform. "What do you mean decontamintation room? Did we just get nuked?"

The engineers just pushed him towards an ominous looking door, "Look, just go in the decontamination room and everything will be explained after the rest of the others arrive."

[The Big Zabowski]

At the other end of the doorway stood about 20 rooms, each with a glass viewing pane in front of them and doors on either side. 'Zabo' was escorted into one of the rooms, having dropped his rised arm thing and raising a brow as he looked about the base.

Or whatever the heck it was

"H-hey..what are ya-!?"

It was then that Zabo was at the end of what looked like some kinda funky weapon out of Ratchet and Clank or something, several cables running to a back wall as it was wielded by the male officer dude thing that been working with the chick.

"Ok, what the hell is this.. What do you want?"

Well, Mr. Zabowski, we just want you to relax and just breathe calmly. It'll all be over in a second..

"Uh, how about no, and I get the hell out of here. M'Kay? It's been nice miss, but I have a show to catch tonight."

The girl blinked and cocked her head at the mentioning of show.

"Show? As in television? Surely you can't be serious.."

Zabowski shook his head.

"First off miss, don't call me shirley, and yes, it's a TV show. And I'm gone..see y-"

*VOOOOOOOOM~*

Zabowski quite literally went into the glass pane window, his chubby face sliding against the window with a squeaking sound as he slid into a crumpled heap on the floor..

"Anyone got some Jack..? Oog"

The Girl just sighed and looked at her counterpart.

"Well..I'll say that this was one of the more interesting results.."

The Man nodded, looking at a readout on the wall.

"Tox results state that aside from some minor hiccups, he's fine. Cholesterol is a little high.."

As the pair attempted to bring Zabowski back into his normal element, Folken would probably only wonder what he'd have in store for himself..with that gun thingie.

[Heretic]

*in space*

One of the Federation’s remaining battleships, the Dragon’s Fang emerged from its Space Hyper-Fold along with a bedraggled collection of damaged ships. On the bridge of this impressive battleship, sitting in what looks to be a very comfortable chair, is a man in a mask. Don’t bother asking who he is, he has a mask on. I’m sure his real identity will be reviled in some dramatic way long after everyone else has already guessed it, but none the less, a masked man is all he shall be until then- -

“Are you about finished narrator?”

I’m just trying to set up an air of mystery about you.

“Well can you stop for now? We have to get things moving here.”

Yes, you are absolutely right. After the masked man’s brief conversation with the narrative, a timely communications window opens on the bridge’s main screen. On the screen appears a man who obviously seems in charge of something important by the number of shiny things on his uniform. “It’s good to see you back alive Mysterious Masked Man, did you achieve your goal?”

“I have indeed Admiral, I have in my custody the plans for the Fandom’s Inter-dimensional technology. It is as we suspected, their gateway generators are capable of bringing over not only people, but machines as well.”

The admiral frowned as leaders of something important always do, “That explains how they were able to amass such a large force of Mobile Suits for their initial attack.”

“An advantage we can now take advantage of… Wait, did that sound silly to you?”

“Just a little,” the admiral said, “But I’ll let it pass.”

“Thank you. Anyway, now we can expand our operations by not only bringing pilots, but powerful robots as well.”

The admiral smiled, “Yes, with these super robots to join in our war, we can finally drive back the Fandom.”

The masked man stood up dramatically and a breeze that should have been impossible in the enclosed bridge of a star ship, send his cape billowing. “I have fulfilled my part of the bargan, did you get who I asked you for?”

“Yes,” the admiral said doubtfully, “But I’m not sure why. I mean, what do you need a collection of Japanese Animation song Makers? Don’t get me wrong, I think each it talented in their own way, but why do you need them?”

A sly smile played across the exposed lower half of the masked man’s face, “Do you know of robots that combine to create one super powerful robot?”

The admiral looked puzzled, “Yes, the Fandom has been known to employ a few, but what does this have to do with these musicians?”

“Just as those robots combine to create a powerful force, these musicians together become more powerful than the sum of the individuals. And if we are going to have any hope of winning this war, we will need the hot blooded power that they will invoke. Because together, they form JAM Project.”

[Folken Fanel]

(Okay, that was unexpected... )

After 'Zabo' was escorted from the larger room, the engineers/technicians/whatever they were ushered Folken through another door. On the other side, he was greeted with a sight much like Zabo had been, and he didn't like it.

"Umm, what the frak is that?" he said, pointing to the menacing gun-like object one of the technicians was holding.

"Oh that, don't worry about. Forget all about the Probe-U-Later. Instead focus on the picture of a pretty woman being beamed into your head."

Folken let down his guard for a moment, which was all it took.

*VOOOOOOOOM~*

"Oh Dear God! Have you people no sense of decency!" Folken shouted as he was slammed against the wall. After several minutes of intense humiliation mixed with cries for mercy, the Probe-U-Later was deactivated and Folken was lowered onto the floor.

"Okay, your vitals check out fine. That'll be all. Once you've changed into the regulation jumpsuit, exit through the door to your right and follow the blinking lights to the briefing room."

Folken rubbed his buttocks and tried to forget what had just happened. He found a neatly folded seat of clothes in the corner and after putting them on, exited through the door.

What was in that chocolate milk?

[Strike Zero]

"You... have got... to be kidding me..."

That was all Strike Zero could utter as he looked around, attempting to take in his new surroundings, which appeared to be some sort of laboratory that'd been ripped directly out of the Xbox game Halo. He was standing on top of a glowing white pad. The room was dome-shaped, and filled with several humming chrome-clad machines, all of which Strike had never seen the like.

Not a minute before, he had been sitting at his computer, happily lurking the blue-colored message board of MAHQ. All of a sudden, there had been a blinding flash of light. His chair disappeared out from under him and he landed not-to-softly on the ground. When he looked up, he found himself in this place.

"This better not be... what I think it is..."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure it is what you think it is, SZ."

Strike turned to the direction of the voice. Standing there was a man dressed in what he took to be a radiation suit.

"You mean... this thing is a space-time rift generator used to pull people into this dimension from a separate one, and now you plan to have me and a bunch of other randomly selected guys from the same dimension pilot a bunch of technologically advanced robots with which to fight one of the greatest, if not THE greatest wars humanity has ever seen?"

The man just smirked. "Pretty much, although actually, the device you're standing on is a little closer to a space fold device rather than a rift generator. Rifts tend to be quite messy, you see. By simply folding dimensions on top of one another, we can get around having to make all sorts of difficult and time-consuming calculations, as well as a sizable amount of red tape--"

Strike's head fell into the palm of his hand. "Why does this always happen to me?"

"Oh, quit whining. I'm sure you'll come out of it reasonably intact like you did the last time," the man said. He then held out his arm. "In the meantime, please make your way over to the decontamination room so that your body can be sterilized of any foreign cosmic matter that you may have picked up on the way here."

Strike glanced in the direction the man had gestured. Through the glass door he could see two others who were dressed like him--meaning not in white suits--who Strike assumed had been picked up just like him. To his shock, they were blasted by what seemed like a gigantic laser cannon mounted to the roof of the building.

"Umm... I think I'll pass, thanks," Strike said. "In fact, I think I would very much prefer it if you zapped me back to my own dimension right now."

"So sorry, but I don't have authorization to do that," the man replied. "C'mon, why don't you just go along with it for a bit? We'll make it worth you're while."

"Well," Strike said, thinking, "that depends..."

There was a pause.

"....will there be food?"

The man grinned. "Oh, there'll be food alright. So much food, that you'll be stuffed."

Another silence.

"...was that supposed to be a threat?"

"Yes. Just get through the door, SZ."

Strike sighed. "Fine, fine. Stupid razzafrazza..."

[Folken Fanel]

Folken was ushered into a large, dark room. LIke many stereotypical anime briefing room's, this one had a large holographic map in the center that displayed their current location. As far as he could tell with his limited geography skills, they were somewhere in Africa...or Canada.

"Okay, now what?" he said aloud.

Immediately, a static-coated voice replied, "Take a seat, Folken. Once the other pilots get here, we'll begin to explain."

Folken sighed and took a seat, grumbling, "You've said that a lot. HOw do I know you don't just want to rape me like in some sick hentai movie?"

"If we wanted to do that, we'd have kept you in the Probing Room."

[Strike Zero]

"Right this way to the decontamination room," a female technician said. Strike glanced up at the doorway.

"But... the sign up there says 'Probing Roo--'"

"Step lively! There's not much time to waste!"

They entered and Strike was moved to the middle of the room. There were even more people here than in the previous room. Several were tending to another man whom Strike assumed had been brought here in the same manner as him. Just as he was about to call out to them, a giant instrument that looked sickeningly like a laser cannon descended from the ceiling and pointed itself in his direction.

"...what is that?"

*VOOOOOOOOM~*

Strike was thrown ten feet through the air across the room. He smashed into the wall with a great THUD, then tumbled to the floor.

"Argh! What the bloody hell--"

"Okay, everything looks good," the technician said as she typed on a hand-held datapad, not missing a beat. "Now, off to the briefing room!"

For all Strike knew, he could very well be walking straight into a torture chamber.

To his relief, the next room looked very much like a briefing area. A great holographic projection of a map was in the center, surrounded by chairs.

There was a burst of static from the PA system. "Sit down if you would, Strike Zero."

For the first time, Strike had to wonder how it was that these people knew his username. Then again, these were people that could bend the fabric of space time, so it didn't seem too unusual at all.

He took a seat in front of the map. Another person was sitting a couple seats over.

"You wouldn't happen to be from my dimension, would you?" Strike queried.

[Folken Fanel]

Folken looked over his shoulder and saw another person in similiar clothing to him.

"You wouldn't happen to be from my dimension, would you?"

"That depends. Are you from a dimension where celebrities rule the world and people on the internet have no common sense? If so, then yes, we are from the same dimension."

As Folken was talking, a door slid open and a group of uniformed men walked into the room. One stepped up to a podium on the other side of the holographic map and put a large folder on it.

"Alright gentlemen," he said, "Since the Dimensional Gate is out of order currently, we'll have to wait for the remaining pilots to join us. In the meantime, I guess it would be best for you to know why you're here."

[The Big Zabowski]

"ZABO JUST GET IN THERE!"

"But hey, you said they'd have some tacos damnit! I WANT TACOS I WAS PROMISED MY TACOS!"

Zabo was promptly thrust into the doorway and into the first row of chairs, tumbling headfirst into the second row. Landing with a loud thud and clatter, Zabo took several moments before righting himself and brushing himself off. He then looked around and spotted a skinny kid and some other kanuck that decided to be dragged into this as well.

"Wait a minute..don't I know you?" Zabo said to Folken, finding the kid strangely famililar, like something from one of those internet RPs he kept tootling around on.

[Strike Zero]

"That depends. Are you from a dimension where celebrities rule the world and people on the internet have no common sense? If so, then yes, we are from the same dimension."

Strike was about to respond when a third kid came flying through the door and landed in the row behind. He stood and turned towards the first kid. "Wait a minute...don't I know you?" he said.

Just then, a man in a military uniform came in through a second door. He stepped up to the podium and addressed them. "Alright gentlemen," he said, "Since the Dimensional Gate is out of order currently, we'll have to wait for the remaining pilots to join us. In the meantime, I guess it would be best for you to know why you're here."

"I'm pretty sure I know why we're here, but go ahead," Strike said. He didn't mind having to listen to this guy. It would most assuredly be better than being warped and blasted at any rate.

[Arbiter GUNDAM]

MBF-06/ZGMF-X12A Arbiter, who, for the purposes of this story, shall henceforth be called Roberto, had just been putting the finishing touches on his latest custom design, the MSZ-007 Delta Gundam, when there was a big ole' flash of light and the next thing he knew, he'd landed in a room that look like the transporter chamber of the USS Enterprise. A rather attractive woman in a futuristic lab coat and wearing glasses walked up to him.

"Right this way sir." Roberto stared at her for a full 10 seconds.

"Sir?"

"I must be dreaming," said Roberto. He pinched himself and Gundamnit it hurt.

"Okay I'm not dreaming. But none of this can be real. I mean this is just way, way, WAY to far out of left field to be real. I must be on LSD or meth or something. Yeah that explains it. Even though I've never done drugs once in my life and literally nobody I know does either, I must be tripping."

"Yes sir, right this way sir," said the woman with an indulgent smile as if she'd seen people react this way before (she'd had in fact.).

"Yeah right. Whatever," said Roberto. He then realized that, since this was all a drug-induced hallucination, it didn't matter what he did here. So, as he caught up to the woman, he reached and gave her a firm slap on the behind.

A few minutes later, with several large, very painful bruises, ears ringing with the profanity of all nations, windblown from the... thing... probe... whatever, and with one hell of a puncture in his ego, Roberto was unceremoniously kicked into the conference theater.

"Dude, what happened to you?" asked one of the guys who was already sitting inside.

"Got my ass kicked by a girl probably about 60 lbs. lighter than me, wearing a lab coat, wearing glasses. And I'm pretty sure I'm hallucinating even though I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be able to feel pain. How's your day coming?"

Just then, a man in a military uniform came in through a second door. He stepped up to the podium and addressed them. "Alright gentlemen," he said, "Since the Dimensional Gate is out of order currently, we'll have to wait for the remaining pilots to join us. In the meantime, I guess it would be best for you to know why you're here."

"Give in General Fruitloop, do tell us," muttered Roberto darkly.

[Heretic]

*Back in space*

A junior officer knocked politely on the door to the Mysterious Masked Man’s Cabin before entering, “Sir! We just received-- OH DEAR GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING!”

“NOTHING! YOU SAW NOTHING!”

“NO SIR!” the junior officer replied, “I didn’t see you dancing to Caramelldansen!”

“Good, now what is it?”

The officer shook his head trying to forget the mental image he had just witnessed, “The first wave of pilots have been brought over from the other dimension. The Admiral is starting the orientation.”

“Good…” The Masked man faced a window and looked at the planet below, “I’m sorry to drag you into this…” He faced the officer, “you are dismissed.”

The officer saluted and closed the door. The masked man waited thirty seconds, then pressed play on his music player and resumed his dancing.

(The random video thread makes this so much more fun.)

[Folken Fanel]

"Alright, now that you've all had a chance to meet and stare increduously at each other, on to business."

The Captain/Commander/Admiral/leader pressed a button on his podium, and the holographic map shifted to display an image of a monstrous fleet of vaguely familiar warships. "Gentlemen, for the past eleven months we have been engaged in an epic struggle against the enemy forces you see here. They are called the Fandom and come from Mars. We do not know why they are attacking us, nor do we know exactly who they are. What we do know is that they use advanced military hardware known as 'mobile suits'. These 'mobile suits' are currently the most powerful weapons known to man, and the Fandom has thousands of them."

He stopped to gauge their reactions, and to his shock, saw that not many of them were surprised. Continuing, he said, "We, the Federation, have yet to develop our own mass-production 'mobile suits', but have manageed to use the Dimensional Gate to pull several prototype machines from different dimensions. Since their pilots turned to jelly during the process, we had to recruit their alternate selves from different dimensions, which is where you all come in. In different dimensions, you are all pilots of advanced prototype 'mobile suits' called Gundams."

Folken could barely contain his laughter. Struggling to keep from bursting out and laughing, he raised his hand. "So, why didn't you just yank a couple thousand GMs or Daggers from those dimensions and use them?"

The Commander sighed and said, "The Dimensional Gate is flawed; we could only bring in a few machines before the Gateways collapsed. But that's not important. What is important is that your mission, should you choose to accept it, will be to spearhead our forces in a new campaign to push the Fandom off the Earth. So, do you except your mission?"

Folken thought for a moment, then looked at the others in the room. "Ah, what the hell, sign me up."

[Strike Zero]

It was as Strike had suspected. They were going to be made to pilot mobile suits, Gundams even, to counter this military from mars. The enemy sounded powerful, though he couldn't help but snicker at the name Fandom.

Did he really want to go through with this? Give up his teenage life to risk everything behind the controls of a mobile suit facing a deadly enemy for these people he didn't even know? He had so much going for him back at his world. For starters, there was...

...

Well, he had...

...

Uhh...

...

Strike sighed. "You know what, screw it. Count me in."

[Arbiter GUNDAM]

Roberto rolled his eyes as the Generalissimo explained their predicament.

"Gee where have we heard this plot before? It couldn't have been Gundam Seed or the original Gundam?"

When the Grand Marshall finished his speech, Roberto flicked a bored finger towards Strike Zero.

"What he said. As long as you don't give me a crappy Gundam, I'll do it."

((Can we have any Gundam we want, even a made up one as long as it isn't the MS equivalent of Ideon or the Death Star?))

[Strike Zero]

((Can we have any Gundam we want, even a made up one as long as it isn't the MS equivalent of Ideon or the Death Star?))

((That's how it was last time around. We did in fact make up a few Gundams near the end, though we never got to use them to their full potential due to the thread being prematurely closed.))

[Folken Fanel]

The Commander (who shall henceforth be referred to as 'William Ryker') smiled. "Alright then. As for you, Mr. Zabowski?" he asked.

Then there was a violent tremor throughout the building, and the lights flickered on and off several times. A voice spoke over the PA system. "Commander Ryker, we're under attack by two Fandom cruisers! Red and Silver squads have engaged, but they're outnumbered by the enemy's mobile suits. What are you're orders."

Ryker cursed. Looking at the other four in the room, he sighed. "Prepare the Vault to be unsealed. We'll use the Gundams. Have units 01, 02, 03, and 04 prepped for immediate combat."

"But sir, we haven't finished decontamination yet! The pilots could be fried!"

"Put them in normal suits and send them out, Ensign. NOW!" Ryker roared. He gestured at the four extra-dimensional pilots. "Follow me."

((Be picking which suits you want.))

[Strike Zero]

Now things were getting tense. Strike and the others stood and followed Ryker through the door the man had come in.

They traveled down a long, dimly-lit hallway, soon arriving at a small room with several technicians bearing normal suits. Within minutes, they had the four of them changed and ready to go.

The next room they entered was dark and vast, much larger than the previous room. Strike was just beginning to wonder whether or not this was the "vault" Ryker has spoken on when dozens of powerful lights flashed to life.

Strike saw that they were standing on a catwalk suspended high above the ground, and around them were four large doors--two on the left, two on the right--at least thirty meters in height. They were each labeled with the numbers 01, 02, 03 and 04, respectively. Strike had no doubt that their Gundams waited within. Ryker proceeded to address each of them in turn, directing the other pilots to the different cylinders.

"Strike," Ryker said when he finally arrived at him, "you were third to arrive. You will pilot Gundam zero three."

Strike nodded. He stepped forward and stood adjacent to the door labeled "03". As if on cue, it shuddered and slowly began to open. The Gundam that was revealed was covered in blue-colored armor, and mounted a shield on it's right shoulder, as well as a variety of other weapons.

"Blu Duel Gundam..." Strike murmured as he gazed upon the machine. The Gundam's green-colored eyes appeared to gaze back.

The young man allowed a smile to pass his lips. "This will do just fine."