A DIFFERENT log!!
As you'll recall, our heros (Greed and Kimberly) sent The Villain (that would be Mustang) a party. Here I present the fruits of their labors.
(First part of this scene, prior to the Roy-ness, can be found here)
Characters: Roy Mustang and a host of NPCs
Setup: What do you do when a bunch of people come into your house and start gettin nekkid?
Warning: Same fat guy, same thong. But this time with nudity included at no extra charge.
The Colonel is curled up in bed, dressed in black pyjama pants and a t-shirt, as he reads a book. Finally relaxing after a rough, paperwork-filled day of work, his muscles untense and he settles in for a few hours of delicious silence, head tucked against his pillows. Blissfully lost in the text as his slender fingers flip through the pages, the unsuspecting alchemist is unaware of the group of people tromping up the stairs and towards his apartment. But, if he had been given a chance to run, he would have taken it.
"Ahh, this is it!" the fat man in the hat who liked to wear thongs and sing of camels exclaimed, looking at the paper in his hand and at the number on the door. He turned to his compadres. "Drunken orgy!" he announced over the low roar.
Simultaneously, he and the poker-playing cigar smokers rapped on the door.
Not waiting for an answer, the door was shouldered open and Roy's poor apartment was flooded with drunken rabble. Clothes went flying. Partners were chosen or swapped at will. And, as Greed had predicted, none of the revelers noticed that, prior to their arrival, this had been an orgy-free area.
Roy nearly rips a page out from his book as he jumps at the knocking, turning to look in the direction of the door. Heart pounding like a jack hammer in his chest, he sucks in a calming breath as he slips out of bed.
Who would be up at this hour? He yawns as he runs a hand back through his hair, bare feet padding on the rug as he makes his way to his bedroom door. But before he can get to his front door, it is flattened to his rug with a loud slamming noise, and a pair of used women's underwear is thrown in his face as a whirlwind of naked bodies tumbles into his living room. Rigid with shock at the scene before him, his expression is one of utter disbelief and disgust.
A large-bosomed woman wearing a whole lot of nothing approached the clothed one. "No no, silly. You're supposed to remove this," she said, and started pulling on Roy's shirt, giggling madly.
"Yeah yeah man," confirmed a man in a matching outfit "Less is more, you know?" He began assisting the large-bossomed woman in her effort to de-clothe the Colonel.
Roy Mustang is appalled beyond words. Even when the woman walks up to him, he can barely form coherent words like "no, no, I...don't...get...", as he swats her roaming hands away.
Brow furrowing in horror, even big breasts don't distract him from the horrific nature of this entire situation. Once he gets a good grip on her hands and keeps them away from his clothing, he twitches madly, feeling a really bad headache coming on as he opens his mouth to speak--or rather, to bellow out his protest. This seems like a bad dream. A very, VERY bad dream. But before he can even get close, he's double teamed and is busied with the task of getting a maked man's hands off of him. Glancing back at his nightstand inbetween trying to avoid fingers that're trying to run up his shirt and tweak his nipples, he stares longingly at his gloves, wishing he had picked them up on the way as he tries to back up, and wishing he had lifted more weights so he could just push them off and run away...
Masculine hands traveled down Roy's front, fumbling with the ties of the fuzzy pants while across the room, cowboy hat girl was busy enjoying a nice ride. Two of the cigar-smoking poker players were taking turns trying flip cards into another ample-breasted woman's cleavage, the three of them taking a short break.
Seeing the commotion and always willing to assist those in trouble, the fat man who was now wearing only his thong ambled over to the unwilling participant and began to give his advice.
"Now, now, don't be shy, lad! Why, I recall the first time I wore a thong in public. That would be right now! And I'm not embarrassed, wot! Naked is glorious! You'll feel freer than you've ever felt in your life. I had a dream once that the whole country had gone nudie, and what a dream it was! I had a naked barbecue, and then went for a naked motorcycle ride! I woke up feeling more refreshed than I'd ever felt after a good long nap! I do say, you're not hiding anything in there, are you?" he asked, attempting to pull the waistband of Roy's trousers just far enough for him to get a peek inside.
Roy isn't sure who to look at, or who to try to get off of him first. But he does know that he does not appreciate someone looking down his pants without his permission. Finally mustering enough brain power to let out an enraged yell, he concentrates his energy into bellowing out the words. "GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME!" Getting control of his faculties, Roy Mustang is absolutely livid as he claws the hands off of him with several flailing motions, struggling against them briefly before he breaks free from their slimy grasp, scrambling to grab his gloves.
The large-bosomed woman turned to her naked and thonged friends. "What a party-pooper! He's no fun at all!" she remarked, scooping up the naked fellow and attempting to whisk him off to a corner. The thonged man followed, still discussing the finer points of nudity and the sublime comfort of a thong.
Yanking the necessary glove on, he bares grit teeth as he stalks into the living room, turning a fiery glare on all of them. "Who sent all of you here?!" He raises his gloved hand, as if he's being threatening--even though, to anyone who doesn't know/care, he isn't. In his half-asleep, enraged delirium, he doesn't get the fact that they don't know and don't care that he's the Flame Alchemist.
Some long-haired hippy guy in the corner raised his hand in imitation of Roy "Yeah man, why are we here?" he asked, smiling sublimely. "Do you know?" he asked the person next to him.
"Are we really here at all?" replied a philosophy student who was being fondled by a hermaphrodite and a blonde, "Are we really having an orgy, or is it all in our heads? One of the mystifying questions of the universe."
Roy twitches. Once. Twice. Three times. "Get. Out. Of. My. Apartment. All of you. Now." He doesn't care if they have to leave naked--he just wants them out. He'll call backup on them when they're streaking from his apartment.
A girl in a pair of pink fuzzy cat ears with stars tattooed in strategic areas on her breasts sidled up to Roy, pressing against him. "Mou...you don't want us to leave, not really, do you? We could have so much fun." she reached down to 'pet' the alchemist "if this is too intense for you, then me and you could have some fun in private..." she purred, nuzzling against him.
He's in a bad enough mood that even a naked cat girl can't appease his rage. "Get OUT!" And then there is a snap, a surging amount of flame, and catgirl is charcoaled. She's still alive, because it would be such a waste if Roy actually did kill her, but...
The catgirl blinked and coughed, a puff of smoke rising from her lips. The burns weren't extreme, but the shock of actually being set on fire made her quake. She stared at roy in terror, finally getting her charred limbs to respond. Shrieking, she sprinted from the apartment, holding what was left of her clothes to herself.
The others, seeing the burst of flame and the fleeing charred lady, suddenly became aware of things that were more important somewhere else. Even the threesome in the back had seen it, and a quick 'Thankyouforthesexgottagobye!' was tossed casually from unwanted guest to unwanted guest as everyone tried not to be the next to become barbecued.
The Colonel runs all of the nekkid people out of his apartment, and then immediately makes a beeline towards his phone. Dialing the appropriate numbers, Roy calls upon the military to chase the naked bums down and apprehend them. Once he is done with that, he proceeds to try to figure out how to alchemize his door back to its hinges through the half-asleep chaos of his mind...seething, all the while. "Once I find out who did this..." he mutters as he accidentally turns the doorknob into an apple, "...I will kill them."
(First part of this scene, prior to the Roy-ness, can be found here)
Characters: Roy Mustang and a host of NPCs
Setup: What do you do when a bunch of people come into your house and start gettin nekkid?
Warning: Same fat guy, same thong. But this time with nudity included at no extra charge.
The Colonel is curled up in bed, dressed in black pyjama pants and a t-shirt, as he reads a book. Finally relaxing after a rough, paperwork-filled day of work, his muscles untense and he settles in for a few hours of delicious silence, head tucked against his pillows. Blissfully lost in the text as his slender fingers flip through the pages, the unsuspecting alchemist is unaware of the group of people tromping up the stairs and towards his apartment. But, if he had been given a chance to run, he would have taken it.
"Ahh, this is it!" the fat man in the hat who liked to wear thongs and sing of camels exclaimed, looking at the paper in his hand and at the number on the door. He turned to his compadres. "Drunken orgy!" he announced over the low roar.
Simultaneously, he and the poker-playing cigar smokers rapped on the door.
Not waiting for an answer, the door was shouldered open and Roy's poor apartment was flooded with drunken rabble. Clothes went flying. Partners were chosen or swapped at will. And, as Greed had predicted, none of the revelers noticed that, prior to their arrival, this had been an orgy-free area.
Roy nearly rips a page out from his book as he jumps at the knocking, turning to look in the direction of the door. Heart pounding like a jack hammer in his chest, he sucks in a calming breath as he slips out of bed.
Who would be up at this hour? He yawns as he runs a hand back through his hair, bare feet padding on the rug as he makes his way to his bedroom door. But before he can get to his front door, it is flattened to his rug with a loud slamming noise, and a pair of used women's underwear is thrown in his face as a whirlwind of naked bodies tumbles into his living room. Rigid with shock at the scene before him, his expression is one of utter disbelief and disgust.
A large-bosomed woman wearing a whole lot of nothing approached the clothed one. "No no, silly. You're supposed to remove this," she said, and started pulling on Roy's shirt, giggling madly.
"Yeah yeah man," confirmed a man in a matching outfit "Less is more, you know?" He began assisting the large-bossomed woman in her effort to de-clothe the Colonel.
Roy Mustang is appalled beyond words. Even when the woman walks up to him, he can barely form coherent words like "no, no, I...don't...get...", as he swats her roaming hands away.
Brow furrowing in horror, even big breasts don't distract him from the horrific nature of this entire situation. Once he gets a good grip on her hands and keeps them away from his clothing, he twitches madly, feeling a really bad headache coming on as he opens his mouth to speak--or rather, to bellow out his protest. This seems like a bad dream. A very, VERY bad dream. But before he can even get close, he's double teamed and is busied with the task of getting a maked man's hands off of him. Glancing back at his nightstand inbetween trying to avoid fingers that're trying to run up his shirt and tweak his nipples, he stares longingly at his gloves, wishing he had picked them up on the way as he tries to back up, and wishing he had lifted more weights so he could just push them off and run away...
Masculine hands traveled down Roy's front, fumbling with the ties of the fuzzy pants while across the room, cowboy hat girl was busy enjoying a nice ride. Two of the cigar-smoking poker players were taking turns trying flip cards into another ample-breasted woman's cleavage, the three of them taking a short break.
Seeing the commotion and always willing to assist those in trouble, the fat man who was now wearing only his thong ambled over to the unwilling participant and began to give his advice.
"Now, now, don't be shy, lad! Why, I recall the first time I wore a thong in public. That would be right now! And I'm not embarrassed, wot! Naked is glorious! You'll feel freer than you've ever felt in your life. I had a dream once that the whole country had gone nudie, and what a dream it was! I had a naked barbecue, and then went for a naked motorcycle ride! I woke up feeling more refreshed than I'd ever felt after a good long nap! I do say, you're not hiding anything in there, are you?" he asked, attempting to pull the waistband of Roy's trousers just far enough for him to get a peek inside.
Roy isn't sure who to look at, or who to try to get off of him first. But he does know that he does not appreciate someone looking down his pants without his permission. Finally mustering enough brain power to let out an enraged yell, he concentrates his energy into bellowing out the words. "GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME!" Getting control of his faculties, Roy Mustang is absolutely livid as he claws the hands off of him with several flailing motions, struggling against them briefly before he breaks free from their slimy grasp, scrambling to grab his gloves.
The large-bosomed woman turned to her naked and thonged friends. "What a party-pooper! He's no fun at all!" she remarked, scooping up the naked fellow and attempting to whisk him off to a corner. The thonged man followed, still discussing the finer points of nudity and the sublime comfort of a thong.
Yanking the necessary glove on, he bares grit teeth as he stalks into the living room, turning a fiery glare on all of them. "Who sent all of you here?!" He raises his gloved hand, as if he's being threatening--even though, to anyone who doesn't know/care, he isn't. In his half-asleep, enraged delirium, he doesn't get the fact that they don't know and don't care that he's the Flame Alchemist.
Some long-haired hippy guy in the corner raised his hand in imitation of Roy "Yeah man, why are we here?" he asked, smiling sublimely. "Do you know?" he asked the person next to him.
"Are we really here at all?" replied a philosophy student who was being fondled by a hermaphrodite and a blonde, "Are we really having an orgy, or is it all in our heads? One of the mystifying questions of the universe."
Roy twitches. Once. Twice. Three times. "Get. Out. Of. My. Apartment. All of you. Now." He doesn't care if they have to leave naked--he just wants them out. He'll call backup on them when they're streaking from his apartment.
A girl in a pair of pink fuzzy cat ears with stars tattooed in strategic areas on her breasts sidled up to Roy, pressing against him. "Mou...you don't want us to leave, not really, do you? We could have so much fun." she reached down to 'pet' the alchemist "if this is too intense for you, then me and you could have some fun in private..." she purred, nuzzling against him.
He's in a bad enough mood that even a naked cat girl can't appease his rage. "Get OUT!" And then there is a snap, a surging amount of flame, and catgirl is charcoaled. She's still alive, because it would be such a waste if Roy actually did kill her, but...
The catgirl blinked and coughed, a puff of smoke rising from her lips. The burns weren't extreme, but the shock of actually being set on fire made her quake. She stared at roy in terror, finally getting her charred limbs to respond. Shrieking, she sprinted from the apartment, holding what was left of her clothes to herself.
The others, seeing the burst of flame and the fleeing charred lady, suddenly became aware of things that were more important somewhere else. Even the threesome in the back had seen it, and a quick 'Thankyouforthesexgottagobye!' was tossed casually from unwanted guest to unwanted guest as everyone tried not to be the next to become barbecued.
The Colonel runs all of the nekkid people out of his apartment, and then immediately makes a beeline towards his phone. Dialing the appropriate numbers, Roy calls upon the military to chase the naked bums down and apprehend them. Once he is done with that, he proceeds to try to figure out how to alchemize his door back to its hinges through the half-asleep chaos of his mind...seething, all the while. "Once I find out who did this..." he mutters as he accidentally turns the doorknob into an apple, "...I will kill them."