Easter Fan-Fiction Entry
"An Irie Easter" (or: "A thought of Jerk Duck")
Aflima - ID #10898
Leaving the beach resort was a bit of a regret - the drinks were amazing and the views spectacular - but the man had an obligation to perform. He gave his companion a kiss on the cheek, before running across the street and towards the Jerk Hut at the foothills on the outskirts of Ocho Rios, Jamaica.
"Devra should be fine for a few hours," the man thought.
He entered the bar area, nodded to the bartender who pushed a button on the wall. The side door opened and the man yanked off his backpack in order to change clothes. It was a quick change - the technology built into his suit meant that he only needed to don an innocuous-looking shirt, and press a few buttons. Within a few seconds, Aflima was poised to enter the Fight Club for the region.
To date, BADGE had yet to sanction any of the Fight Club locations within the Caribbean, and this week it had been a bit of a blessing. The influence of the World Corps had meant that the known locations of BADGE-affiliated Fight Clubs were on constant alert of infiltration and shutdown, but those in smaller jurisdictions escaped their notice. With Jamaica one of the countries not showing any significant inclination to adhering to the World Corps' missives, life there went pretty much as it always had for civilians and morphon-affected persons alike.
The small crowd cheered at the sight of a more globally-known battler among the usual crowd of local morphon-enhanced (and other) competitors, and after a quick grin, Aflima went to work. The challenge wasn't going to be difficult, but it was always worthwhile to keep active as well as survey for any upcoming talent who could really make a name for themselves in case global terrors reappeared in the region or outside.
Aflima's train of thought was interrupted by a blur of white and an egg in his hand.
"You're hard to find! Happy Easter, bud!" came a voice as the body of the creature vanished.
"Easter Bunny? I'm in the middle of a-" began Aflima with a puzzled look on his face. His sentence was interrupted by the body of one of the local fighters, who was thrown in from parts unknown. The two of them tumbled to the ground, the egg momentarily airborne.
"Ay, it's one of those famous eggs!" screamed a voice. The female, clad in a costume more fit for Carnival than battle, snatched the egg before it could land, sized it up, and took a nibble.
"Hey!" cried out Aflima as he shoved the unconscious battler off him. "You can't just eat something not for you..."
Quickly, the egg was tossed among the other competitors, each of them laughing as they took a bite and passed it around. One combatant, seven feet tall and body as thick as a moose, pointed at Aflima. "We share over here in Ochie. Got a problem with that?"
Aflima, briefly forgetting himself and letting his hand collect flame, began to voice his disapproval of such 'sharing' then was left slack-jawed as the others began to change shape. Faces molded from human into avian and arms transformed into wings. Boots popped as webbed feet emerged and before one could say 'quack?' Aflima was face to face with a series of duck-looking creatures of varying size and temperament.
"I'm not dreaming..." said Aflima. To confirm this, one of the audience members screamed and pulled on the arms of her companion. They and others rushed towards the exit. The duck-creatures, seemingly emboldened by the chaos, scattered and burst through the walls of the room. Aflima took a few seconds to gather his thoughts before running through the nearest of the freshly-created openings in pursuit.
It didn't take long for him to spot one of the duck-things, as it was ravaging a coconut stand. The vendor held a machete in front of him, but made no move to stop the creature from tearing through the inventory. The duck-thing attempted to bite through a coconut, shook its bill rapidly and with clear frustration flung it across the road, the fruit embedding itself in a bus stop pole.
"Hey!" called Aflima, getting no response. Aflima ran up and tried to grab the arm - wing - of the creature, who shook the hand off and began to waddle across the street and towards a beach. Aflima ran around and faced it, arms outstretched. The duck-thing tilted its head quizzically, then ran by Aflima and jumped into the water. From there it was a crazy scene with beachgoers trying to decide if the duck was real or an inflatable beach toy. A group of teens, possibly inebriated, started throwing a beach ball around the duck, who seemed content to be the equivalent of a volleyball net.
It was Aflima's turn to tilt his head quizically, but it didn't last long as he heard a quack from back across the street. He dashed over to see another of the creatures who had infiltrated the open air market and managed to grab a hat and find its way into a sundress. The shopkeeper there was visibly unimpressed and was berating the creature with rapid words, most of which made Aflima cringe. Aflima knew enough of the local patois to know which words weren't suitable for children. Aflima approached this creature and grabbed the hat. This action was met by an angry series of quacks from the duck-thing, and in the blink of an eye it was Aflima running away, followed by the duck who was followed by the shopkeeper, still cursing.
"Well at least I got one following me back," thought Aflima as he carefully scanned the area. There were still several others unaccounted for but he was able to spot a third of the newly-anatine beings bobbing its head back and forth as it stood near a street band playing reggae in front of a set of adoring tourists.
"It's pretty good music, can't lie," agreed Aflima as he approached the duck-thing. "But how can I bring you back?"
Aflima again tried to pull the wing of the duck, to no avail. One of the tourists shouted, "Let 'im stay, mate! Every ting Irie!"
"Drunken tourists," muttered Aflima.
The duck that was chasing Aflima quacked loudly. The reggae-listening duck quacked loudly in response, and the next thing that happened was a flurry of feathers as the duo started slapping at each other. The music stopped, and the tourists began to surround the ducks, cheering and making side-bets on the winner.
"This is absolutely maddening," thought Aflima. He was perplexed, and all because of that rabbit's egg... "E.B...."
"EEEEEE! BEEEEEE!", screamed Aflima.
"I'm not a genie, you know," said EB as he whisked to a stop in front of Aflima. The small talking rabbit turned slowly and its jaw dropped at seeing the scene. "... kay."
"What is this?"
EB turned back to Aflima as the duck-brawl continued. "Well clearly you allowed that egg of yours to be consumed by people with less morphonic energy than you, those eggs were specialized such that anybody with irregular or lower morphon counts could temporarily alter their physiology, one time I gave Penny Pilot an egg and she gave it to her kindergarten class and it was Frogsville for nearly a week and even now they produce more Olympic-class long jumpers than any other town in -"
"Bunny!"
"So anyway, these eggs, not for norms. But the effects are temporary, at least," replied EB.
"And in the meantime, I can't get them away from causing havoc. I don't want to hurt them. How can we corral a dozen ducks?"
EB scratched his hindquarters. "Maybe get a momma duck?"
Aflima threw his hands up. "A momma duck."
EB did the equivalent of a shrug.
Aflima shouted, "Where we gonna get a big momma duck? Call Quark in drag?"
A blue flash appeared followed by the hero Strange Quark, wearing a shower cap. "I'm not a genie, you know," he said.
Aflima turned to face nobody in particular, and stared for a few seconds.
"Um, Quark friend?" said EB. "You know how to get some ducks back in a row?" EB pointed to the battle royale, the ducks tussling on the ground and tourists scampering away from the carnage. For their part, the reggae band members had turned to drinking Red Stripe beer and watching intently at the scene.
"Well ducks love nothing more than following their momma!" cried Quark as he transformed into a duck, blue as the sea and fifteen feet tall. It quacked loudly and waddled slowly up the hill. Immediately the two fighting ducks took to their feet and followed suit. The duck in the ocean flapped its wings and dashed across the street to join in. Within minutes, others joined - one with a suspicious-looking accessory in its bill and waddling in tune.
EB said, "Give it 10 minutes and they'll be back to normal... better make sure they have clothes nearby though! Gotta run!" before it dashed away in a blur.
Aflima muttered something about how Nova's resisted putting that creature in a stew all those years, then followed. The throng of tourists pondered following the ducks, then decided that beer and reggae was the better combo and gathered around the band again. The irate shopkeeper stayed long enough to swipe the sundress that had fallen to the ground during the melee and walked back to the market.
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