Lockout!

Back when the site had just gone down, Daniella made the comment that we could get a fic out of the situation. Well, here's what I've come up with so far....

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DAY 1

SQL-DATABASE ERROR

Database error in WoltLab Burning Board: Link-ID == false, connect failed
mysql error: Host ‘C15472-140440' is blocked because of many connection errors; unblock with
‘mysqladmin flush-hosts’
mysql error number 1129
Date: 28.03.2013 @19:07
Script: /index.php?sid=
Referer:

ElectricWhite’s eyes glazed over as she read the error message. She tried to logon to the Gatchamania.net site again. Again, the error message.

She’d heard of the site going down before, but this was the first time it had happened since she’d joined this group. Still, it didn’t bother her; it was sure to be fixed soon.

DAY 2

EW was nearly exhausted by the time she’d gotten to the edge of the parking lot at the Gatchamania site. She’d never seen so many people here at one time, and she was certain they all weren’t members. She passed several prayer groups, a Catholic priest performing an exorcism, a Greek Orthodox priest who seemed to be doing the same, a handful of faith healers, at least one shaman from every tribe in the Amazon Rain Forest, a bunch of rabbis, and a voodoo priestess dispatching a chicken.

EW urged her wheelchair on until she came upon a group of newbies chiseling small holes in a wall and then stuffing bits of paper in the holes.

“What the hell –?”

“Oh!” one of the newbies let out a startled cry. He nervously stepped over to her. “Uh, well, you see, the site’s down, and we haven’t heard from Cep, so we decided to write little prayers and stuff them into this wall –”

“Well, cut it out! This isn’t the Wailing Wall. Cep’s probably working on the problem now.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’ve just gotta be patient.”

“Well, what should we do?”

“Just relax. Be patient. This isn’t the end of the world.” She left them as they pulled the bits of paper out of the wall and discussed ways they might patch the holes. She rounded a corner and let out a groan – in front of her were a half dozen people holding signs that read: “THE END IS NIGH!”

* * * * *

The Spectran commander stood in the center of a vast courtyard within the Gatchamania site. He struck a pose that he thought made him look powerful, even though his uniform made him look like a puke-green jackalope. A solder darted up to him and saluted.

“Sir,” the soldier said, “the site is secure!”

“Good. And what about this ‘Cep’ character?”

“He’s not in any of the places we’ve searched.”

“That’s not good, soldier.”

“But there’s one place we have yet to look, sir.”

“Where?”

The soldier pointed toward the high, vaulted ceiling. The commander looked up and saw a schooner-shaped cloud slowly drifting several storeys above them.

“But we’re about to take care of that!” the soldier cried, anticipating the commander’s next question. As soon as he finished speaking, a large trampoline was dragged into view. On the far side of the trampoline, more Spectran soldiers started forming a pyramid. Finally, a soldier carrying a large butterfly net scurried to the top...

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“There are worse crimes than burning books. One of them is not reading them." --Ray Bradbury

EW fantastic

a butterfly net - I think once again they underestimated our mighty Cep, I don 't know if he would be annoyed or just insulted

ps can we keep the trampoline? or is made by the same company that makes the mecha's?
cause it could be fun

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May the bad things get lost on the way to you door!

Just wait until you hear the ending

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Thanks Cep

Gatchamania.net Administrator

That was hilarious, EW! I did suspect that Galactor/Spectrans had something to do with it! This after I thought that the site was angry with me, and wouldn't leave me log in, after it might have thought that I might have forgotten it due to my lately, regular absence! My suspicions about an enemy attach became more founded, since, after not being able to enter the site, our home computer went dead for a couple of days also! There are no doubts ... the enemy managed to spread its virus! And, to say that I was so happy to have had some time to spare during the Easter holidays! Our computer has just been revived, but alas ... I'm now left with just a speck of time at hand! Hope everyone has had a lovely Easter!

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To be or not to be a gatchamaniac - that's the dilemma!

I'm still looking for the trampoline...

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yer...but what about the trampoline????

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May the bad things get lost on the way to you door!

The emails I exchanged with EW during the time when the site was down helped deal with the withdrawal symptoms, until I found you again at the temp base!

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They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Naturally, they became heroes -- Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan.

LOL EW! I think we should bounce on the trampoline and knock them all out like "Angry Birds"!

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There is no problem that cannot be solved with time, patience, and a judicious amount of high explosives.

Okay, here's the next installment!

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The signs were being changed to say things like, “Keep calm, Cep’s on it!” and, “Hang in there!” ElectricWhite urged her wheelchair on until she came to a small circle of people sitting on the ground, furiously tapping away at their laptops. They each wore a polo shirt, dress slacks, and the helmet and winged cape of a different member of the Science Ninja Team. They were the Gatchageeks, the IT team of Gatchamania.net.

Daniella T knelt beside one dressed as the Eagle, peering over his shoulder at his computer screen. “So, what does this mean, Gary?” she asked.

“It’s something only administration can handle.” the Gatchageek replied. He looked up to Daniella’s face to accentuate his point as he added, “Only Cep can help us now.”

“Hey, no sweat!” EW chimed in. But then she quickly added, “But I think we’d better focus on keeping the huddled masses from freaking out.”

“Shhh!” one of the lady Gatchageeks near EW hissed, “We don’t want one ofthem to get any ideas!” She then looked off to her left. EW followed her line of sight to a clump of purple several yards away – the entire Katse clan was sitting there, slump-shouldered and dejected-looking.

“So far we’ve been lucky.” the Gatchageek said to EW, “All they’ve done is sit there and sulk.”

“Sulk? Why?”

“I guess they’re upset that this mess wasn’t their idea.”

“We’ve got another problem!” a geek wearing the Swallow’s colors cried, “Gatchfanfic’s gone down!”

A gasp came from the nearest bystanders. “Did you hear that?” a woman shouted, “Somebody’s targeting the Gatchaman sites!”

“Aw hell.” EW groaned as a panicked murmur spread through the crowd.

“You see, brothers and sisters,” a voice that sounded very much like Billy Graham called from behind EW, “we have all sinned in the eyes of Cep!”

EW turned her chair to face the voice. She found a man who looked very much like Billy Graham did in the 1950's. In his right hand he clutched a scroll. Behind him stood six other people, all dressed like tent revival participants from that same era.

“Yes,” he continued, “we have displeased him!”

“Um, I don’t think –” EW said.

“Hey,” a Gatchageek dressed as the Owl cried, “the gatchfanfic site’s back up!”

“We must repent!” his voice took on a more fevered pitch, “We must show him how truly sorrowful we are by self-flatuating ourselves!”

“I’m pretty sure ‘self-flatuating’ isn’t an actual word –”

The Evangelist finally noticed EW. He stepped over to her, and, while still clutching the scroll in his right hand, placed his hands upon her head.

“Oh Mighty Cep!” the Evangelist called, “We are a sinful lot! But I ask you to take pity on us! Use this poor, crippled soul before you and use her to show us the tiniest bit of your power!”

“I’m not really comfortable –”

Meanwhile, his followers had raised their hands skyward. They swayed back and forth while muttering, “Preach it, brother!” and, “Amen!”

“Yes, take pity on this wretched heap of shame,”

“Hey now –”

“this hollow shell of humanity,”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“this mouth-breathing sack of pus,”

“THAT’S IT!”

“and make her walk again!” The Evangelist threw his hands into the air and stepped back. EW glared at him.

“It doesn’t work like that, bright boy.”

The Evangelist brought the scroll down on her head with a loud smack! “Cepless heathen!” he screamed. EW let out a cry that was more shock than pain. He raised the scroll above his head again and brought it down. This time, however, EW caught it and wrenched it from his hand.

“CUT IT OUT!” Nobody there had ever heard her yell so loudly or with such anger before. The Evangelist’s eyes filled with rage.

But then littlewolf popped up between the Evangelist and his followers as if she’d just used a trapdoor in the walkway. She did a quick legsweep and knocked the feet out from under him.

EW had been so focused on the Evangelist that she didn’t notice anybody else approaching. But, before his behind was halfway to the ground, a small crowd had formed a defensive perimeter between her and the Evangelist’s group. Not only were there Gatchageeks, but Transmute Jun, Amethyst, KT1972, k2p2, ChrisW, and Springie also appeared.

“None of us like what we heard you saying to our friend, Friend.” Transmute Jun said as the Evangelist sputtered while pulling himself back up onto his feet.

“She should repent –”

“What?” KT1972 scoffed, “The Defender of the Faith?”

“There’s no way she could be –”

“Actually,” Gary the Gatchageek interceded, “Cep himself proclaimed ElectricWhite Defender of the Faith. If you want, I’ll show it to you, once the site’s back up and I have access to the archives.”

The color had drained from the Evangelist’s face. “I had no idea that was her .”

“How many wheelchairs have you seen tooling around here?!” Amethyst didn’t even try to conceal her annoyed tone.

There was an awkward moment of silence. EW had managed to regain her composure.

“Um, ma’am,” he called over the wall of Gatchamaniacs and Gatchageeks, “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me...”

“Well,” EW replied from behind the wall, “if you’re willing to help us keep the membership calm while Cep works...”

The Evangelist never knew how lucky he was – if his miracle had happened, she would have instantly sprung up from her wheelchair, put her fist through his skull, and stomped on him until he was nothing but a greasy stain on the concrete.

* * * * *

The puke-green jackalope commander tried not to roar in frustration as he watched a smashed trampoline, a shattered butterfly net, and a pile of broken Spectran soldiers being cleared away. The schooner-shaped cloud drifted calmly – if not smugly – above. And, most annoying of all, not a single bounce was produced by the trampoline.

The commander glared up at the cloud. “So help me –”

“Sir!” The commander gave a startled yelp as his eyes shot to four Blackbirds standing before him.

“Sorry, sir!” the Blackbird leader snapped a salute.

“It took you long enough.”

“Sorry, sir! Some of the Spectran leadership were having us try on new uniforms – they want us to wear a color darker than black, sir!”

The commander didn’t question this; he learned early in his career that those who asked questions didn’t last long.

“You see that?” he pointed at the cloud, “We believe the target is in there.”

“Right, sir!” the Blackbird leader cried. With that, all four leapt up and soared toward the cloud. Their speed increased as if they were nuclear warheads roaring toward their target. They were going to reach their goal at the exact same moment.

Gonnnnnnngggggg!

The noise reverberated throughout the courtyard as the Blackbirds spiraled back to Earth, their helmets a massive spiderweb of cracks.

“WHO THE HELL EVER HEARD OF AN IRONCLAD CLOUD?!?!?” the commander bellowed.

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“There are worse crimes than burning books. One of them is not reading them." --Ray Bradbury

Aw, and I was hoping to use that trampoline, too. ;-P

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"The heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing." -- Blaise Pascal