Taka’s Fresh Start


In the wee morning hours on a Tuesday, Taka stands at the sink of his penthouse apartment in downtown Halcyon. Running a comb through his luscious ear hair, he winks (or maybe just blinks) at himself and gives a toothy grin.

Taka (to reflection) : They can’t get enough of ya.

Casting away the comb with haughty disdain, he wipes his hands on the guest towel and exits the bathroom. Strutting back into his obscenely large bedroom, Taka is startled by the presence of two creeps. One is leaning against his nightstand twirling a pair of Taka’s underpants on one grimy finger, while the other calmly eats a turkey leg by the bedroom door. The creep at the nightstand waves and bows.

Jeff: Thank you so much for meeting with us Mr…(looks at the waistband of Taka’s underpants) Taka.

Marty: I was way off.

Taka: What the churn is this?

Jeff: Opportunity. Synergy. Dream weaving. Call it whatever you want, but it all starts now.

Taka: I’d love to kill you guys, I really would, but I gotta get to the hero select screen. I’m going to be instalocked, like, any second.

Jeff: Don’t worry, we got your shift covered. Found a guy, out of work, looks just like you. Sure, he’s 64 bits, but they probably won’t notice.

Marty: And he doesn’t do your little flip…thing. But he’s got a sweet barrel roll.

Taka: Whatever. Peace.

Taka vanishes. Jeff counts to three on his fingers and points to Marty. Marty slams the door, a loud thud follows immediately after.

Taka:(throwing his box on the floor) ICE dammit!

Jeff: Look (struggles desperately to hop onto Taka’s bed, writhes onto the mattress,  as would a seal on land, and strikes a relaxed pose) I’m going give you the real talk. People don’t like you.

Taka: Who could possibly not like this?

Taka does a sassy twirl.

Marty: Yikes.

Jeff: Well first, we’re not big fans. You tend to go a little harder than necessary.

Marty: One of my patella’s never regenerated.

Jeff: Then, there’s the Stormguard. You assassinated a lot of their people back in the day. The Grangor think you’re too prissy. You tend to eat the Meekos. Noobs find you confusing.

Marty: And you’re getting blasted on Reddit.

Taka: What is Red-ett?

Marty (pointing up) : Oh, just click the links from my previous line of dialogue. Maybe not the third one, it’s mean.

Jeff: Mr. Taka, please sit down.

Marty slams a splintered chair into the back of his knees, dealing 3 piercing damage and knocking Taka into the seat.

Jeff: We don’t just want to makeover your image, we want to give you the total respawn you so desperately deserve.

Taka: I don’t need this. I agreed to wear white and carry that baby fox around.

Jeff: And what will you do when reports are released saying that you allowed a baby fox to be killed over and over while you foolishly push the enemy jungle with zero defensive items? Or how about the fact that his growth is stunted, he wobbles when he walks, and he doesn’t know the color gray from the color gray? What THEN, big shot?! WHAT HAPPENS WHEN-

Jeff tumbles off the bed in his excitement, landing on one of Taka’s old wrist blades that was left on the ground. The knife cuts a huge gash across Jeff’s little orange head and unleashes a torrent of blood around the room, most of which does not appear out of place as there is already quite a bit of blood on the walls. Marty drops his turkey leg and rushes over, scooping up Taka’s underpants and wrapping them around the wound. Taka watches the scene impassively as Marty knots the briefs with his teeth and helps Jeff back up on the bed. Jeff tries to stand, gets dizzy, and opts to lean casually against the pillows.

Jeff: My point is, we can make you loved.

Taka: Alright, fine. I see where this is going and I’m in.

Jeff: Really?

Taka: Yea, we should definitely use Koshka.

Jeff: For what?

Taka: My wife. Everyone already assumes we’re going to end up together because we’re both kind of animals that slash people.

Marty: Is that racist? It feels racist.

Jeff: I’m pretty sure the lines are blurred on that since we’re all fictional fantasy creatures, Marty. (to Taka) I’m sorry, I don’t see where you’re going with this.

Taka: I have some kids with Koshka (unnecessary air demonstration), Catherine kills her (again, and way too violent). Boom, sympathy.

Jeff: Sure, that would be simple, and create cheap hype, but (flips onto his little pot belly and props his head in cherubic fashion) let me ask you something: would Master Shishou want you to take the easy way out?

Jeff motions towards the closet.

Taka (with supreme reverence): Master?

Marty walks over and grips the door handle, making intense eye contact with Taka, who is literally on the edge of his seat. With a grand flourish, Marty whips open the closet door to reveal a pile of desiccated bones.

Taka: What is this?

Jeff: He’s still dead…

Marty: He doesn’t remember.

Taka: I remember!

Jeff: Right, scarring and ironic moment you’ll never live down, but we thought it was more the meaning, you know?

Taka stands up, wrist blades brandished and makes his action movie slow-mo walk toward Jeff.

Jeff: Wh-whoa! We can make everyone love you! We can solidify you in the meta!

Taka stops, cocking his head.

Taka: You’ve got the amount of time it takes to respawn at the fifteen-minute mark.

Marty counts frantically on his fingers.

Marty: 32 seconds!

Jeff: Okay, okay! Marty, let’s go strait to the finale, hit it.

Marty begins to sing In The Air Tonight by Phil Collins

Jeff: Taka Knife-Hands-Cat-Ears-One-Eye, what if every time you entered the Fold, you were a team player?

Marty: …I can feel it coming in the air tonight…

Jeff: What if,  you focused on the carry instead of the one trying to kite you away from the fight?

Marty: …I saw it with my own two eyes…

Jeff: What if, you counter built and didn’t stick stubbornly to a clunky critical-based structure you’ve used for ages?

Marty: …its the first time, the last time

Jeff: What. If. You didn’t ping when your death was obviously your fault.

Marty: …I’ve been waiting for this moment for all my life

Marty whips a dirty sheet off a lump in the corner, revealing a tiny creep drum-set. It’s so adorable you’re lucky you can’t see it because you would “aww” yourself into early on-set dementia. He plops onto the stool, grabs the sticks and busts out the sweet solo located at exactly 3:14 in the song.

Jeff: The future is now! You too can have the foresight necessary to win matches and become someone that teammates are relieved to see in solo queue! Right up there with Vox and Ringo; even, dare I say, getting banned in international competition. Just say “yes” and we shall lead you away from the dark past and toward the bright purple-ish hue of Taka One-Point-Infinity!

Jeff relishes in the immaculate delivery of his closer for one perfect moment, and then the loss of blood catches up with him and he collapses face down on the duvet cover, which Taka bought only because the girl at the bedding store with a monkey tail and webbed feet was kind of cute. Marty jams out the rest of Phil Collins, like he should, and then quietly places his sticks down and bows.

Taka (pointing to Jeff): Is he dead?

Marty: No, he disappears when that happens. Probably just a coma.

Taka: Tell him “no”, the “Tik-Tak Killer Clock” mocks jocks who try to knock his socks, dig?

Marty: Gesundheit.

Taka shakes his head and turns to leave.

Marty: Wait-wait! I got another idea!

Taka: What?

Marty: How about a “Sexy Bus Driver” skin?

Taka participated in his next match with only one wrist blade because the other was so deeply imbedded in the wall behind Marty’s corpse he couldn’t wrench it out. But don’t worry, he still went 2/12/0.


Note: Jeff and Marty first appeared in “Dead and Back Again: A Creep’s Tale” read it here.





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