User:Orian57/UnProvise/UPR/The Battle of the Famous Characters

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UnProvise Name: The Battle of the Famous Characters
Description: James Bond, Harry Potter, Indiana Jones, Hillary Clinton, Superman and some other people, all in a room together?! What, no... There is no product placement in this UnProvise
Contributors: YTTE + BlueYonder + Jasper + Orian57 + CheddarBBQ
Who Is Who: YTTE plays James Bond + BlueYonder plays Winston Smith + CheddarBBQ plays Harry Potter + Jasper plays Indiana Jones + Orian57 plays The Doctor


NOTICE: Since Qua's ban, his character is now open for anyone to play. NXWave has been replaced.

James Bond -- James Bond had always been shy, and as he strolled into the room, full of famous people, it took a lot of effort to not shoot them all. He patted his little gun under his smoking jackets. He was wearing two tuxs, today, because it made him feel manly. James pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, seductively flashing the brand name about. The room around him was dark, but noisy. He looked again at the invitation card he'd recieved.


James Bond, come to 666 Dark Street on the Friday the 13th, this February. There will be cocktails, nice shaken-not-stirred cocktails. That's the way you like them, right? Meet us there, come alone. Hookers provided.


James looked around confidently. He wasn't shy anymore, his cool cigarette had calmed his nerves. Maybe a few drinks would prepare him for whatever was to come?

Winston Smith -- Quite suddenly, a scrawny, scraggly, pale, unshaven man in a ragged overcoat on the other side of the room, who for the past half hour had been staring silently into his rather rancid-smelling glass of Victory Gin, cried out at the top of his voice "Two plus two is five and I love Big Brother! Yaaaay!" An awkward silence desended upon the crowded room for but a minute as everyone turned their gaze toward the man. Winston Smith, for 'twas the man's name, glanced around, flushed with embarrasment, mumbled an indistinct apology, and took his own invitation out of his coat pocket to re-read it.


3971 Smith W.: Attend party of crimethinking unpersons 13 February. Ginrat will halfwise increase. Rethink doubleplusungood dress habits fullwise. --O'Brein.
8434-30

The man named Winston Smith was remarkably weedy and gittish. Which explains his vulneurability to gin and random whores from work.

James Bond -- James Bond glanced again at the odd, ragged-looking man near the bar. Bond strode over, skimming past the two blondes who thrust themselves in his way and attempted to rip their clothes off before him. He stole a quick glance at the man's invitation and saw "Winston Smith" in a large, elegant typeface on the envelope.

"Nice to meet you" James extended his hand "I'm Bond, James Bond, James Harvey Bond, James Harvey Wilson Bond. I don't believe I've had the pleasure?"

Winston Smith -- Smith extended a hand in return and shook Bond's, and forced an awkward grin, revealing a row of teeth yellowing and decaying from several gallons of low-quality alcohol. "Uh...Smith" he said. "Winston Gregory Havilland Smith. Yes, I seem to remember your name from work; the Ministry gave us a bunch of books by a guy called Fleming and told us to erase all mention of any annoying and unrealistic characters. There was nothing left when we were finished."

Smith's eyes scanned Bond's snappy dry-cleaned outfit and the shiny pistol sticking rather obviously out of his pocket. "That's one nice suit." he said. "Do you work for a repressive and brainwashing government too?"

James Bond -- Bond smiled and looked past the man in an epic stare into nothingness. "Calling a government repressive and brainwashing is a bit like calling an egg eggy". Bond cursed mentally, for not being able to come up with a better example. Apart from the litte eggy mistake, he was pretty happy with the epicness he'd just introduced into the conversation. He snapped his head back to Smith. "Fleming? I don't believe I've heard the name. Should I have?"

Winston Smith -- Smith raised an eyebrow and looked somewhat confused. "Um...eggs?" he said, rather unimpressed. "We're not allowed those back on Airstrip One. You're a lot more impressive in the books. Um...anyway...Fleming..." Smith paused for but a moment to think. "Uh...well, I could swear he wrote a bunch of trashy books about a chap with the same name and..." He hesitated for a moment, then seemed to brush it off. "Ah, must be a coincidence." he said. "Or maybe one of your stalkers is writing an unauthorised biography of you." He blew out his cheeks and looked around. "So...any idea what this party's all about?"

James Bond -- Bond checked his watch, discretely and touched his gun handle, for comfort, very indiscreetly. "No" Bond said, in his most epic of voices "Not a clue. All I know is the party has something to do with an insane Russian who's trying to take over the world, lots of money, leaked information documents, nuclear bombs and some hot chicks... Well that's what I heard, anyway." Bond thought carefully, this wasn't exactly his cup of tea.

Indiana Jones -- Suddenly out of nowhere, a sound was heard. James Bond looked over to see a rolling bolder thundering down the road and someone running ahead of it. The man, Indiana Jones, fell through the door and sat up panting. "Hey, what's up?" He said.

Winston Smith -- Unimpressed, Smith cast his glazed and reddened eyes up and down Indiana's curious and impractical cowboy clothing, and reflected on the rather unrealistic suddenness of his appearance, which he had seen somewhere before.

Bond

Bond was suspicious of the new cowboy, but tried to calm everyone down by pulling out his gun

"Who're you, then?" he said. "Are the Thought Police having a fancy dress party?"

James Bond -- "The thought police?" chuckled Bond with his trademark swagger (if you can have a swaggering chuckle). James turned smartly on his heel to face the newcomer, this cowboy. "No, this isn't the Thought Police" Bond muttered to Winston, "this is Dr. No". James elegantly whipped his hand in and out of his tux, to reveal his small pistol.

Indiana Jones -- Indiana Jones felt threatened by the gun, but managed to calmly say "Relax. I'm here for the same reason you are, look at this." He pulled out his own invitation.


Treasure and wealth will come your way on exactly Friday the 13th. Be at the center of 666 Dark Street as an entrance will open exactly at 11:00 PM, hope you survive. -Connery


"I don't know what you're getting worked up about, but if you want to play that way." He angrily pulled out his signature whip and threateningly threatened James Bond with it.

Winston Smith - Smith, having never used a gun before, since George Orwell just wasn't that type of writer, held up his hand in a pacifying way. "Now, now, you two," he said, "don't fight. We're all equal, after all, no matter what the government will have us believe. Perhaps we can be united by a common cause. And Mr Jones, here, may be able to tell us why we have been summoned here."

James Bond - Bond snarled, lacking his usual style. He tucked his gun away slowly and turned to the odd little man who was calling for peace. 'Winston Smith...' he thought to himself, 'where have I heard that name before?'. Suddenly he remembered something and smiled. He focused his eyes seriously on Winston, completely ignoring Indiana Jones, behind him.

"I know why we're here", he said seriously. "But I won't tell you until I get my free hooker and a martini!"

Winston Smith -- Smith scowled with cold dissaproval. "Don't patronise me!" he barked. "You know perfectly well the only woman I ever had made a habit of shagging other random ugly men on grassy knolls!" He smashed his glass of Victory Gin against the wall. "Bah! Have your martini, oh-you-who-grows-fat-on-government-profits, but you will then tell me what sort of evil totalitarian conspiracy has brought us here!"

The Doctor -- After a small buzzing noise the side door opened and in walked a man dressed in a three piece suit and wearing a long brown coat. He strolled on up to the group and he flashed a piece of paper at them. It was his invitation, apparently.

Please help!
Come to 666 Dark Street (London, UK, Earth)
on exactly Friday the 13th of February 2008 AD (On the gogorian calender not the other one)
-- Bad Wolf

He introduced himself as "The Doctor". "Okay which one of you is the evil alien overlord planning to enslave the human race and make them mine the planet Saudi Arabia for all of it's oil?" He demanded of the befuddled group. "It's easier if you just own up, please I'm not in the mood for running around saving the planet today."

James Bond -- James Bond looked warily at the new comer. "Aliens?" he said, rather quietly, with thick seductive tones. Bond wondered to himself, 'I don't think this "doctor" has ever had a wife...Hmmm...'. He looked up at the stranger's rather stylish, but active, clothes.

"Dr. No, I presume?"

The Doctor -- "No, no, just The Doctor. I don't like cats" the Doctor replied.

James Bond -- Bond half smiled at this odd doctor. 'Maybe he's Welsh...' he thought vaguely '...he doesn't like cats? That's ridiculous, the villains that I get these days are so shitty'. Bond had had one too many Martinis... "So," slurred Bond, suddenly swaying and in an instant becoming the picture of a drunk rich, stylish man "you wanna fight, Welshie?". Carelessly Bond threw his jacket aside - smashing several glasses behind the bar, surprisingly dramatically - and reached for his little gun.

UMM7

The Doctor had quite a presence; maybe those deep brown eyes were what made the other men putty in his hands

In a blur he plucked it from his pocket and emptied his entire clip, the shots echoing loudly around the room as lights shattered, people screamed and vases of roses feel to the ground. Not a single shot hit the Doctor, though, who stood there looking at Bond.

Indiana Jones

This is Indiana, but nobody cares.

Indiana Jones -- Indiana carelessly whipped Bond on the back, to amuse himself. "Shootin' someone with a big gun? This is the 1950s!" He said deeply.

Winston Smith -- Smith, aside from being just a little bit pissed on the petrol-like Victory Gin, was not intimidated by the violent scene unfolding before him-for the Thought Police, tough guys though they claimed to be, were too pansy-ish to use either guns or whips. Briefly slapping Indiana Jones and muttering a quiet "No it ain't, it'sh 1984", he hobbled drunkenly over to Bond, and leaning close toward him, said, spraying him with the stench of his gin-tinged breath "Calm yourshelf, Mishter Bond. Shink you got lame villansh? Try putting all your effortsh toward defeating Big Brother. I never even met the guy. And what you gotta deal with, eh? Mainiac businessmen named Max and crazy nutters with gold fetishesh? Hm?" Swigging another gin, he hobbled back across the room, grabbed Indiana Jones's hat, puked in it, gave it back, and, with a clumsy stumble, sent a table of bottles toppling over with a smash.

Indiana Jones -- Irritated, Indiana Jones whipped Winston thirty times. "1984?!" he said with humorous anger. "You must be DRUNK. Can't you see I was being chased by a boulder?" Indiana refused to drink, not knowing - nor caring - what a "martini" was.

The Doctor -- Getting distressed at the increasing violence The Doctor strolled over to Jones and relieved him of his whip. "Actually," he started as he walked towards Bond "I landed here in the year 2342, so..." He plucked Bond's gun out of his hand before he had a chance to reload. "I propose," with his sonic screwdriver he made the weapon fall apart and casually handed it back to Bond - ignoring the man's indignant glare, he continued "that we are in a place out of time." He snatched away Winston's drink "Don't you think you've had enough?"

James Bond -- "Well" muttered Bond, "that was classy. Why don't I do thinks like that". Bond thought this over a little bit and started to become very indignant - his voice rose to a shout "WHY THE FUCK DO I HAVE TO ROLL AROUND IN THE FUCKING DIRT SHOOTING MY ASS OFF TO KILL THE FUCKING VILLIANS?". Bond sotpped and looked around him, slightly shocked. Everyone was looking at him. "Um," he said, quietly, "the name's Bond, James Bond". The silence hardly seemed bothered by Bond's over-used catchphrase. "I...er," James muttered, "shaken not stirred..."

Indiana Jones -- "Who cares about your silly catchphrases?" Indiana Jones said with an unamused look on his face. "It's like Ghostbusters 3 gone wrong."

Everyone was standing around now, utterly confused. Around them lay smashed glasses and debris from the fights and misunderstandings that had occurred. Glances raced suspiciously between each other. A barman still crouched behind his bar, shivering.

Winston Smith -- Winston stood in silence for but a minute, then wreched and vomited coupious amounts of what might, a long time ago, have been rice, all over a woman's dress, hobbled over to the Doctor, and slapped him soundly across the face. "Tell me something, Mr Doctor," he said, "have you, in your futuristic fiddle-faddle place, ever had to deal with a peasant riot? 'Cause I can get George Orwell to start one of those if you touch my drink again." He snatched his drink back and downed it. "Big Brother could tan your ass any day, Mr Ray Gun Guy."

Indiana Jones -- "Here's the deal, Doctor" Indiana Jones said. "Give me back my whip, and I can kick this guy's ass. I won't mess with you, again." He looked desperate for his whip. Only a few people had seen him without it - and those people have been dead since 1945.

James Bond -- "And what puts the Doctor in charge?".

James Bond had managed to recover from his embarrassment and emerged from the shadows as he uttered the words. The origins of the shadows appeared unknown. "And if there's nothing to do here," Bond said, looking around, catching everyone's eyes, "I'm leaving...I have places to be, gadgets to receive and people to thing-with-the...with-the...gun!"

Indiana Jones -- "And people to bore." Indiana said under his breath. "You can't get back."

Winston Smith -- Winston Smith waved his arms in slightly flamboyant objection. "Now, look here a minute!" he said. "You can't leave, Mr Ooh-what-a-big-gun-I've-got Bond! You gotta tell me why we're here first! I warn you, if you don't, the next villan you'll find yourself facing will be a whinging lefty Englishman who does nothing but write essays and hang around in his grovelly apartment!"

Indiana Jones -- "And we don't know the way back to our own times. Bond," Indiana said desperately, "there's no way out of this one. Don't go out that door. It leads right back, except you'd be drunk. That's what happened to Rummy what's-his-name" Indiana vaguely indicated Winston Smith.

Winston Smith -- Winston downed another gin. "Rum? Never heard of it." he mumbled before turning to a nearby posh-looking gentlemen and quietly throwing up over his tuxedo. "Take that, upper-claash poshie." he mumbled. "Sho, Bond," he said, turning back, "why are we here, eh? And while we're...hic...about it...what ish the shoul and why do we dream...?" He promptly stumbled over and crashed into the glass cabinet behind the bar, sending a shower of broken glass down on the bartender, who died messily.

James Bond -- Bond looked at the two men, slightly frustrated. Slowly his face lit up with a little smile and he walked over to a painting, which hang limply from one wall. It was puckered with little bullet marks and faint stains. Bond turned to face everyone, and very slowly said "All right, gentlemen, I believe it is time I explained certain things". Bond's eyes were dancing about, laughing.

Bond pulled out a pair of large, gold-rimmed sunglasses and slid them over his eyes - Gucci's logo printed extra large on the sides. "This way" Bond said, elegantly spinning round so that he could push the painting aside to reveal a oppressively, brightly lit passageway.

Indiana Jones -- "No," Indiana said. "I'm not gonna leave until you leave." Indiana looked pretty serious. "What's-his-name came back in 10 minutes with an empty bottle of whatever that is." He pointed at the bottle of gin. "Go out the door, I'll sit here for 20 minutes, since that's a different exit. If you come back throwing up on everyone, I'm not going anywhere near it." He looked a bit disturbed as he saw Bond walk through the new door. He turned to the Doctor. "You've been pretty quiet," Indiana said. "Any comments?"

Winston Smith -- Winston, whose liver was by now more or less pickled by the gin, let out a weedy belch to match his stature, then slapped Indiana again. "Shut up, yankee" he said. "Go rope shome Nazish or rape a temple or shomething. Mishter Bond gotsh to tell ush what'sh we'sh doing here. The Doctor'sh all quiet cush he...hic...worksh for the Ministry of Truth, probably." He stuck his head out the door. "Oh, Bond!" he yelled. "Get your posh arshe back here and take ush down thish...hic...passage of yours!"

James Bond -- Bond, who had already got halfway down the brightly lit corridor, before turning back to watch the others, bemused. He looked down the corridor, carefully, through his dark glasses. "Come on, gentlemen, we have a woman to meet" he said icily, style dripping from his lips, "Yes, a woman". Bond swiftly span back and turned a corner in the passage without waiting for anyone to respond. Slowly his footsteps disappeared off into the corner's bright absences of shadows; they delicately floated before being swiped away into silence.

Indiana Jones -- Indiana, who was still standing rooted to the spot looked at James, as he disappeared, annoyed. "Come on, gentlemen, I don't almost kill myself to get a woman," he said, "unlike his unoriginal ass. That's right, I said ass."

Winston Smith -- Winston slapped Indiana yet again, leaving a large red hand mark on his stubbled cheek. "Don't shwear, yankee" he said, drunk as ever. 'Your filmsh are for kidsh. Ha, kidsh! You'sh got to make yourshelf kid-friendly, shucker! But me...I'sh from an adult-orientated political work. Ha! That makesh me cleverer than you, that doesh!' With that, Winston dashed on clumsy, skinny feet down the passageway after Bond, alternatly bumping into walls with a complete lack of dignity.

Indiana Jones -- Indiana, mocking Winston's drunken tone, shouted after the little man, "Don't be a shretard, old man. My filmsh are shrated PG-SH13, or SH12 in your Brit shplace. You're shcompletely dishorianted."

James Bond -- Bond swiftly navigated through the cold and winding passages. The walls slowly moved in and the soon Bond and Smith had to slide along the walls to fit through. Eventually they reached a large oak door. Large flaming torches hung beside it - like you know, those proper old-fashioned torch shits, like real medieval stuff. Bond gently tapped on the door. There was a muffled sound from within and then with a mighty kick James knocked the door aside.

The room was empty save for a little bath, which had been left running. On the other side of the room there was a small plastic table at which a naked man sat. He wore only pink tinted sunglasses.

Winston Smith -- Winston, during his time as a Thought Criminal, had numerous times had to gain favour with the Thought Police in ways he was not proud of-he was thus used to the sight of ugly naked men, and did not react to it. However, his drunkeness combined itself with the fact that hot baths were not so much a luxury as an impossibility back in Airstrip One, and overcame him; he indignantly plunged, fully clothed, into the running bath, splashing water everywhere. "Ah, great schtuff!" he drawled, drunk as ever. "Shco, Bond..." he said, finally, and indicated the naked man, "Whoshe that idiot?"

James Bond -- "I, er, dunno" Bond said, looking puzzled at both the men, "I was just meant to come in here, whack you, rape you, kill you and take all your stuff. I dunno what this guy's doing here".

Winston Smith -- At these words, Winston suddenly seemed to regain his soberity. "Rape, you say?" he said inquisitivley, climbing out of the bath. "Uh...hold on a minute..." He ran to the entrance to the room and howled down the passageway "JONES! COME HERE AND HELP ME!" He then turned around to face Bond, looking nervous. "Uh...let me stall you while we wait for the cowboy." he said. "Uh...why would your agency want me dead? You connected with the Thought Police? And...why would you rape me when there are women all over the world practically begging you to rape them and cut their throats afterward?"

Indiana Jones -- "Hahaha, no. Why? I overheard your conversation about the rape."

Harry Potter -- "Bloody hell, enough about the rape," Potter chips in, as the rest of the room notices for the first time that he is there. "Have you forgotten there's a child present?"

Indiana Jones -- Indiana looked in the direction of this new person, who looks around 17, and says, "We really don't need another character, famous or infamous," referring to James Bond, "to speak up this late. Anyways, you look around 17. That doesn't really add up to 'child', does it?"

Winston Smith -- Winston glanced at the 17-year-old too. "I say, I remember having to censor a book featuring someone like you." he remarks. "You're hardly a child. Or innocent. Did't you have some queer fellow with a beard molest you?"


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