A little fanfic

[Master Procrastinator]

WARNING: The following is meant to contain weapons-grade silliness.

HANNAH MONTANA AND THE CULT OF AWESOME

ACT 1: THE BEGINSENING

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It was a warm summer's day on the Hannah Montana Pony Preserve.
Hannah was watching as her sidekick John brushed down her most
favorite pony of them all, when all of a sudden she let out a sigh of
boredom. John shuddered. Nothing good ever came of Hannah
being bored. Almost right on cue, catastrophe struck – a massive
explosion rocked the pony barn, causing it to shake like it was a
polaroid picture. Fortunately, the barn had been built to withstand
a direct nuclear assault. Hannah was very protective of her ponies.
“Something blew up!” the overly enthusiastic teen proclaimed in her
'I'm overly enthusiastic' voice (did she even have any others?).
“Let's go check it out!” John was a little reluctant to follow
until he remembered that the sidekick gig did have hazard pay.
Outside the barn, a fallen rocket was clearly visible in the distance,
with a long cloud of smoke trailing from the wreckage like a tornado
lacking in motivation. “It's too far to walk,” said Hannah, “let's take
the pony!” John did not like the idea of a long pony ride. He was a man,
not some pony-riding freak. Fortunately, Hannah's favorite pony was
also the fastest pony alive, capable of outrunning even a rocket-powered
Segway, and so the duo arrived at the crash site so fast that Einstein
did donuts in his grave.

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The rocket was in bad shape. Hannah knew this because she was
an expert in the field of rocketry. And because the rocket had
totally exploded. “This rocket totally exploded!” gasped Hannah.
John did not get paid enough to care enough to even roll his eyes
at Hannah's masterful talent for stating the obvious. There wasn't
much in the pile of blackened metal to identify the fallen craft or
what its purpose was – other than being a frickin' sweet rocket.
“This adventure sucks!” said Hannah, folding her arms and pouting.
John was very glad that this adventure sucked. The adventures
that Hannah actually enjoyed usually involved globetrotting,
international intrigue, and lethal pop-star showdowns, none
of which were fun for him. Wait... did his ears hear the sound of
incoming helicopters? A fleet of black choppers surrounded the
crash site, as a throng of chainmail-wearing warriors poured out of them.
Vikings. John liked the adventures involving vikings least of all.

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Fortunately, Hannah happened to be the world's greatest kung-fu
fighter, and she knew that vikings were easily defeated by ninja skills.
“Give us the rocket, little girl!” one of the berserkers growled.
Hannah was unfazed. “John! Use your gun!” she commanded.
John was all too happy to comply, because he didn't like vikings even a
little bit, and neither did his gun. His gun felt no fear as the
raging horde rushed towards them, and John envied the trusty little
firearm. Hannah, ever eager and impatient, charged straight forward
into the mass of norsemen, smiling all the way. She ducked under the
swing of an axe, feeling its edge cut the air where her head had just been.
A swift kick to the shin sent the axeman to his knees, and a second kick
to the face sent him into unconscious bliss. For the briefest fraction of an
instant the other vikings paused to ponder how a small child could
defeat a mighty warrior. Then, since they are not such big fans
of the whole pondering thing, the vikings attacked with even greater fury.
Hannah danced among them as if she were playing a deadly game
of DDR, her strikes as swift and precise as an aimbot. One down...
two, three, four... “M-M-M-MONSTER KILL!” said John, in his
best Unreal announcer voice. The vikings were ignoring the little
man, since he was too cowardly to charge into melee and thus must
not pose any threat, but the sorcerous power of his gun proved to be
their undoing. As they tried in vain to land a blow on the pop princess,
they were struck down by thunderbolts of hot lead. The vikings were
decimated before John and Hannah could even work up a sweat.

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Seeing the devastation below them, the helicopter pilots wisely
decided to flee in terror. “There's only one nation that would
send vikings to recover a lost rocketship: Europe!” Hannah
thought aloud, putting her world-famous deductive powers
to good use. “Let's go to Europe!” John groaned at the idea.
There were French people in Europe. Or so he had heard.
“They have guns in Europe,” he reminded Hannah, “guns and bombs.”
“So that rules out going there by plane... We'll just have to cross
the ocean somehow!” Oh please, oh please, oh please, thought John,
don't let the next sentence be “fortunately Hannah was a world
champion long-distance swimmer!”

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Fortunately, Hannah owned a fleet of naval aircraft carriers.
John let out a sigh of relief. The sea sparkled as if it were made
of diamonds, only those diamonds were also made out of
water somehow. Hannah was way too excited about the
boring ocean voyage up ahead, bouncing around,
giggling like an fool, before turning and smiling at John.
And then John was a zombie.

TO BE CONTINUED

[Nique]

Does the next chapter involve them infiltrating the Offices of Tiger-Beat magazine only to find Zarniwoop in his office on an intergalactic cruise?

[Master Procrastinator]

Does the next chapter involve them infiltrating the Offices of Tiger-Beat magazine only to find Zarniwoop in his office on an intergalactic cruise?

Aw dang, now I have to come up with something else.

EDIT: Super bonus update! There probably won't be another chapter for a couple of days.
I hope you enjoy it.

HANNAH MONTANA AND THE CULT OF AWESOME

ACT 2: THE MIDDLENING, PART ONE

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It was a warm summer's day on the Atlantic Ocean. Captain
Xzibit paced the decks of his ship – the HSS Montana. It was
widely accepted to be the most pimp thing ever to float, and
the good captain saw to it that things stayed that way. There
was only one person in the fleet who outranked Xzibit, and
that person was leaning on the ship's railing looking out to sea.
“Yo Hannah,” Xzibit said, “I hear ya like lookin' out at the
ocean. It's a good thing these balconies are already here,
otherwise I woulda had to build some on for ya.” The young
celebrity turned to face the friendly commander. “My fleet's lucky
to have such a devoted captain. I'm glad I hired you!” “Thanks,
Han,” Xzibit replied. “What'cha doin' out here, lookin' at all
them waves?” Hannah paused without speaking for a moment,
looking deep in thought. “I was thinking about how the ocean
is like the mission I'm on. It's all so very mysterious.”
The kindly captain chuckled. “Don't go thinkin' too hard, girl.”
He turned and left the way he came, as Hannah went back
to her vigil over the shifting waves.

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John stood on the command deck, taking in the sea's never-ending
horizon and refreshing salty breeze. He didn't turn around or even
acknowledge the captain's footsteps behind him. John didn't trust
the captain, because his gun wanted to shoot the man – and his
gun was seldom wrong about such things. Still, it couldn't hurt
to be polite. “Hello, captain.” “Yo dawg, don't tell me you
been starin' out at the ocean and thinkin' deep stuff too?”
John allowed himself to smile just a little. “Actually, I've been
keeping watch. You never know what you'll run into out here.”
“That's fo' sho,” Xzibit replied, “but... hey, wait... Is that what
I think it is!?!” John looked in the direction of the captain's gaze,
where he saw a single enormous fin plowing through the sea
straight towards them. Oh gods, he thought, we're doomed.
It's a whale shark.

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The whale shark was nature's most perfect predator, combining
the unstoppable bulk of a whale with the fierce tenacity of a shark.
Few had ever seen one and lived to tell the tale. “Prepare to fire all
forward pimp batteries!” barked Xzibit as he rushed onto the bridge.
The pimp cannons were the Montana's main weaponry, dealing
damage to the target based on how un-pimped they were in
comparison to the super-fly warship. They would have little
effect against a whale shark, though, since it was widely known
to be the dopest beast in the animal kingdom. “Captain! Those
cannons will never stop that thing!” John shouted. “Well
what am I supposed ta do?” replied the captain. John pondered
for a second. “Remember the gangsta code: when bling fails,
firepower prevails.” Xzibit gave the gunslinger a wide grin.
“You go teach Jaws a lesson, homeboy.”

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Once standing on the flight deck, armed only with his trusty gun,
John realized that teaching the whale shark any kind of lesson
would be easier said than done. “John! What's happening!?!”
Hannah called from behind him. He turned to face her, trying
not to show any of the terror he felt. “There's a whale shark,
and it's heading this way. If we can't stop it, it's going to sink
this ship and eat everyone on board.” He made no exaggeration
here, since its giant whale stomach actually had enough room
to do just that. “Oh.” was all she said. Even Hannah had reason
to fear the beast, since all her ninja skills would be useless against
such a massive foe. John suddenly felt a strange pull coming from
his gun. “Use usss!” an extremely creepy voice said in his mind.
Gun? You can talk!?! The pistol replied yesssss, now just shut up
and use usss! Use the gun... but how? Inspiration struck with the
same blinding speed Randy Savage uses to snap into a Slim Jim.
“Hannah! Take my gun!” John said in an imperative tone.
Hannah held the gun with some uncertainty, since she'd never
even picked up a firearm before. This was going to be a difficult
decision, but it had to be done to save the Montana and its crew.
“Now, throw it into the whale shark's mouth!”

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Fortunately, Hannah had a throwing arm to rival Bullseye's.
The handgun spun through the air with the speed of a dozen
antelope, if antelope were suddenly able to fly somehow.
It lodged firmly in the gullet of the sea-going abomination.
John looked into the merciless eyes of the beast and said
“Die, you sonnuva - “

The whale shark exploded.

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John was watching the sea again. A small part of his heart
still hoped that somehow his gun would find its way back to
him, but deep down he knew it was gone forever, having
bravely sacrificed itself to save them all. Xzibit walked up
and put one hand on his shoulder. “Yo dawg, I know you
liked your gun... so I had one o' my bros in the armory fix
this gat up good just for you.” John took the new pistol
and cradled it in his hands. Could it be? Surely not.
“That's right,” the captain said, dispelling any doubts that
remained. “We put a gun inside yo gun so you can shoot
stuff while you shoot stuff!” “Thank you, captain. I'll
treasure it forever.” “Nah, don't thank me bro, just use
that thing to take care of Hannah for me.” The look in
the captain's eyes held a warning about just what would
happen if he should ever fail to protect the girl. Maybe,
just maybe, the captain had been one of the few people his
old gun had misjudged.

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The fleet arrived safely at Europe, and John and Hannah
disembarked from the Montana. Europe was a very strange
country indeed, populated by a variety of tight-knit ethnic groups.
Tourists sat at outdoor tables near fancy restaurants, nibbling
daintily at spaghetti with baguettes and bratwurst. A Spanexican
flamenco mariachi band played near the dining establishments,
living off donations from wealthy foreigners. These immigrants
came from the southern continent of Spanexico, seeking to fill
open niches in Europe's burgeoning ethnic stereotype market.
A group of obnoxiously smelly Frenchmen noticed Hannah and
said “Ahhh, it is the Hannah Montana, teen pop sensation” in
their silly non-English language. Fortunately, Hannah was
fluent in every language, and was able to converse with them.
There was nothing even she could do about the smell, though,
which left John thinking that he wasn't paid enough to put
up with all this. The pair of adventurers wandered until they
encountered one of the Englishmen, who were in charge
of the European Space Agency since they were stereotyped
as being boring, stuffy intellectuals. This particular gentleman
happened to be involved in the agency himself, and led
both John and Hannah to their headquarters.

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“You may call me Reginald.” the gentleman said in a cliché
British accent. John did care enough about this to roll his eyes.
“Through this door is the launch facility we are using for
our Lunar Exploration Program. The future of mankind is on
the moon, my good man!” The door slid open smoothly,
revealing a silo holding a gargantuan rocketship. Hannah
gasped in surprise. “This is... exactly the same model of rocket
that crashed near my pony barn!” Reginald smiled a sleazy
smile. “But of course, dear girl. In life, there is no such thing
as coincidence after all. You two are meddlers, interlopers,
unnecessary distractions to our plan! The Cult of Awesome
shall reign supreme from our citadel upon the moon, and
no one will be able to challenge us!” At that, a horde of
vikings rappelled down the sides of the missile silos, brandishing
submachine guns. “How did you think we Europeans managed
to forge an alliance with the vikings?” Reginald gloated. “They
too are under the Cult's sway. Together we will shape the
destiny of all mankind!” The vikings surrounded John and
Hannah, with their weapons aimed unerringly at the two
bold (perhaps too bold) adventurers. John smirked. His
new gun did not yet bear a grudge against the vikings as his
previous one did. It would learn. And he was still a zombie.

TO BE CONTINUED

[Master Procrastinator]

Oops, I lied. Here is the third chapter.

HANNAH MONTANA AND THE CULT OF AWESOME

ACT 3: THE MIDDLENING, PART TWO

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It was a warm summer's day inside the European Space Agency's
Lunar Exploration Program rocket silo. John and Hannah were
surrounded by vikings toting automatic weapons. “Don't worry,
John, we can take these guys!” Hannah said, with her trademark
bloodthirsty grin. John had every intention of going down
fighting, but unless the next sentence was something like
“fortunately, Hannah was able to project bulletproof force
fields” their chances of winning were rather slim. Fortunately,
Hannah was a lot like Gordon Freeman in that even though she
had no experience with guns, she was really, really good with them.
“John! Duck!” She yelled, then she kicked a machine gun out of the
hands of one of the vikings and fired while spinning extremely fast.
For a moment after she stopped firing, there was absolute silence.
Then every last viking toppled over in a lifeless heap.
“Egads!” exclaimed Reginald.

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“Don't think you've won just yet, my dear!” the Englishman said.
“You're forgetting that here in Europe, we have guns and bombs.”
“So you have a bomb planted somewhere in here?” asked John.
“Quite the contrary,” Reginald spoke with a hint of menace
in his voice, “I am a bomb.”

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The explosive Englishman stood between them and the doorway,
the only way in or out of the room. Hannah's keen intellect raced
to find another means of escape, but the silo had no other exit...
There was no way out. But there was a way up. “Let's take
the rocket!” she said exuberantly. There was no time for argument
or even eye-rolling, and so Hannah and John climbed aboard.
Hannah's extensive knowledge of rocketship piloting had them
in the air within seconds. “Where are we going now?” John
just had to ask. “Where else? To the moon!” was Hannah's
response. John had been afraid she was going to say that.

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It just so happened that the rocket's auto-pilot was conveniently
programmed to fly straight to the moonbase. The rocket docked
without incident, and Hannah and John took their first steps
into the base of the Cult of Awesome. A banner hanging near
the docking area said “Welcome to the best moonbase in the
universe!” John had some suspicions before, but now there
was no doubt at all in his mind.

“Maddox,” he muttered under his breath.

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Suddenly, they found themselves faced with a roomful of
pirates. “Arrrr!” the pirates said, naturally. Once again, John
found himself thinking that he didn't get paid enough for
all of this. “Hey, aren't ninjas supposed to be the sneaky
ones!?!” Hannah protested. For anyone else, mentioning
the pirates' sworn enemies would be a fatal mistake. For
Hannah, it was just an opportunity to start a good fight.
She sidestepped the thrust of an enraged buccaneer's sword,
disarmed him with a blow to the wrist, and sent him reeling
with a kick. Another pirate's horizontal slash gave her a chance
to duck and scoop up the fallen sword in one deft movement.
Brandishing the stolen saber, she invited the sailors to
join her in the dance of death. John was busy picking off
the pirates outside of Hannah's reach when an unexpected
bullet whistled past his head, reminding him that unlike
vikings, pirates knew all about guns. He saw a small
group of musket-wielding men wearing bandanas off to
his left. Their primitive flintlock weapons were no match
for him and his gun, and he needed to get rid of them
before they had a clear shot at Hannah. He felt the
reassuring presence of his gun, and somewhere buried
deep within it, another gun inside. Taking aim at one of
the riflemen with his gun, the gun within set its sights
on a second pirate. A single pull of the trigger, and two
enemies cried out and fell. This would be too easy.

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Pirates are nothing if not pragmatic, and once the
tides of battle turned against them they beat a hasty
retreat. “That was fun!” Hannah remarked cheerily.
Using her peerless architectural analysis skills, she
led her sidekick through the moonbase's maze of
halls and corridors, correctly deducing which passages
led to the center of the citadel. Eventually John and
Hannah came to stand before an enormous door
with the pirate's skull and crossbone emblem
painstakingly embossed upon it with pure gold.
This had to be it.

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Inside was a cavernous chamber, littered with gold
coins and sparkling trinkets of every kind. A trail
clear of booty led to a massive throne shining with
enough jewels to humble a thousand royal crowns.
“This room sure is well-described,” lampshaded Hannah.
The figure sitting upon the gargantuan throne lifted
his head, bringing his face into the light.
Maddox, the Pirate King, examined the intruders
trespassing in his domain of manliness.
“Hey cult leader guy! What're you doing all this
for!?!?” Hannah demanded with extra punctuation marks.
“It's simple, really.” the Pirate King responded.
“My followers and I are going to make the world a
better place – by making it more manly.”
He paused to gesture grandly. “Imagine it! A
world without pansies or whiners! A world
where only manly animals exist, like whale
sharks and dinosaurs!” This took a moment to
sink in for Hannah. “Only manly animals....”
she said, in the quietest voice John had ever heard
her use. “Does that mean no ponies?”
Maddox gazed upon her sternly.
“No. Ponies. Allowed.”

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Hannah's hand shot into the air, pointing straight
up into the heavens. Pink energy spiraled around
her raised hand, coalescing into a massive drill decorated
with pony and flower stickers. She leveled the drill
at the Pirate King, gave him the fiercest stare a girl could
ever muster, and shouted at the top of her lungs:
“TEEN! POP STAR! BREAKAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”
Hannah and the drill launched straight at Maddox's
chest, leaving a clean hole gaping in the Pirate King's
torso. “So... awesome...” Maddox gasped, “That was
almost... manly...” A giant hole in the chest will kill
just about anybody, even the King of all Pirates, and
so the mighty Maddox sighed out his dying breath.
Even John was impressed, and he had already seen
Hannah pull some certifiably crazy crap.
Unfortunately, it was far too early to celebrate.
Maddox's eyes shot open. His hands clenched into fists.

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The Pirate King stood up proudly, the fatal injury
to his chest rapidly sealing itself up. “What!?...
Oh no... Oh gods no... it can't be.” John said.
“That's right, gunslinger.” Maddox spoke with
absolute confidence – and he had every right to.
“It's just as you fear. My awesomeness has
reached critical mass. I have become so cool,
the universe itself will not let me die.” Hannah
was crouched on the ground behind Maddox, her
drill having disappeared. It had been the most
powerful attack she was capable of, and she was
completely exhausted from performing it. The
Pirate King turned towards her. “You are very
strong, for a non-manly being. I can't let you live,
because if you were any stronger you might be
a threat even to me.” Hannah pulled herself into
a standing position with a visible effort. The
Pirate King looked down upon the child for a
short time, and then spoke thusly:
“Manly Fist Tempest!”
A flurry of testosterone-fueled punches was
launched towards the fragile girl. She dodged
to the best of her ability, evading nearly all of
them... until one connected. Her concentration
broke, and the flood of masculine fury overwhelmed her.

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There was a flash, brighter than the sun. John saw
a massive explosion erupt from where the Pirate King
and Hannah had just been. He dived behind a pile
of loot, (good thing those were there, eh?) and shielded
his eyes until the blast was over. So this was the power
of manliness... when its full potential was unleashed, it
rivaled the destructive force of a nuclear reaction.
He peeked out from behind the phat bling to see
Maddox standing unaffected, and Hannah lying
motionless on the ground at his feet. It was beyond
belief. How? How could this happen?
John stood and faced the Pirate King. Maddox
turned and looked John in the eye.
“You... you killed...” John stammered.
He was paralyzed by shock and fear.
And he was still a zombie.

TO BE CONTINUED

[Fifthfiend]

This is the Best Thing.

[Mirai Gen]

Damn, first John Freeman was my favorite character in any fiction ever. Now it's Hannah Montana.

[synkr0nized]

ha ha ha ha
Oh man, Hannah Montana and Maddox

[Master Procrastinator]

I hope Maddox doesn't mind being used as a character. Since he's portrayed pretty accurately as an immortal badass pirate lord who punches out Hannah Montana, I don't think he'll complain too much. He's not even really a villain, just as Hannah and John aren't quite heroes, because in the grim darkness of the Hannah Montana fanfic-verse there are no heroes.

[Nique]

in the grim darkness of the Hannah Montana fanfic-verse there are no heroes.

Haven't done this in a while but -

Sig'ed

[Master Procrastinator]

Here is the fourth and final chapter of this story arc.

HANNAH MONTANA AND THE CULT OF AWESOME

ACT 4: THE ENDENING

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It was a warm summer's day on the moon. Inside the moonbase's
throne room, John and Maddox stood facing one another, neither
one moving or speaking. Finally, the gunslinger's rage got the best
of him.

“You...”

“...killed...”

“...my...”

“...EMPLOYER!!!”

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This is where the opening credits would start. Imagine
a catchy theme song running in the background as clips of
Hannah Montana beating up random people are played.

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“Why so angry?” taunted Maddox. “If you and the girl hadn't
investigated our crashed supply shipment, the events that
led you here never would have happened. The doomed path
you both tread was one of your own choosing. A fate of
your own making.” John scoffed. “Fate? If this is what
destiny has in mind for me, no thanks. With the guns in my
hand and the gun in my soul, I can shoot my way through
to a better end!” The gun in his soul? Maddox raised an
eyebrow. So, he was one of those. This would be interesting.

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John remembered the final stages of his training. The
sensei had his back turned to the young apprentice, though
even if they had been face to face the bright ambience that
always appeared in flashbacks would have made him
unrecognizable anyways. “You're lucky, kid,” the old master
began. “It's not everybody who gets what you've been
given – and not everyone who gets it can use it. Still, don't
go breaking it out every time you need to bust a cap – show
some respect! This technique is for when you need to kill
every last motherf---er in the room, accept no substitutes!”
This was one of those times if ever there was one.

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A vortex of moving air swirled around John. Small coins and
trinkets were scattered haphazardly across the chamber, and a
particularly strong gust almost blew off Maddox's sweet hat.
A strange, far-off sound, like the echoes of gunfire from a
thousand battles, rang through the throne room. A light shone
from John's gun, as it grew and reshaped itself to form into
the holy pinnacle of firearms: the minigun. “That's a man's
weapon,” said Maddox. “Are you sure you know how to
handle it?” John smirked. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
He pulled the trigger, and a hail of bullets streaked towards
the Pirate King. The minigun could fire so many bullets so
fast that anyone it shot at would quickly be turned into
Swiss cheese, if somebody had come along and nibbled said
cheese until nothing was left but the holes. The roar of the
minigun ceased, leaving a strangely empty silence in its
wake. The Pirate King laughed softly. Hundreds of bullets
poured out onto the ground as his clothes and body repaired
themselves. “Not bad.” Maddox admitted. “But now it's
my turn.”

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Fortunately, Hannah had just been totally faking being
dead. With a flying kick the likes of which had never
before been seen, and never again would, she snapped
the Pirate King in two. “It'll take him a while to recover
from that,” said Hannah, “let's get out of here!” Hannah
and John ran for the door, where Hannah looked back to
see the Pirate King staring up at them. “You're both strong.”
he said. “That means I don't have to hold back any more.
I can reveal my true form!” Lightning crackled around the
throne room, and pieces of loot began to fly towards Maddox,
where they were absorbed into his body. “What's he doing?”
asked John. Hannah frowned. “I have no idea.” John's
jaw dropped. Hannah was stumped? That terrifying fact
made him run just a little bit faster.

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They arrived in the docking area shortly afterwards.
John's gun reverted to its original state; conjuring a
minigun was difficult and could only be maintained
for so long. Hannah pulled out a small radio, and
into it simply said “Execute order 42.” “Now what?”
asked John. “We get into the rocket, and hope it's fast
enough.” John hoped it was fast enough.

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Xzibit was chillaxing in his quarters when an alarm went off.
He rushed to the bridge, where the comms officer said “We
got a message for you, sir, just a few seconds ago. All it said
was 'execute order 42.' What's that mean, sir?” Xzibit
replied, “It means fasten yo seatbelts, cuz we're goin' for a
ride.” He began barking out orders to the rest of the bridge
personnel. “Have these orders relayed to tha rest of tha fleet.
Vaccum-seal all tha hatches! Engage tha life-support systems
and artificial gravity! Fire up tha main thrusters, and
prepare fo' liftoff!” Secretly, Xzibit was deeply worried about
the whole situation. Order 42 could only mean one thing:
Hannah was in trouble.
In space.

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The rocketship blasted out of the moonbase docking bay,
gunning straight for Earth. Hannah glanced at the radar
and saw numerous blips closing in on them. She silently
cursed her impatience, because in her haste to get away she
forgot two important facts. First, there were still many
pirates left alive, and they had to have ships to reach the
moon in the first place. Second, Maddox was no fool. He
would have known they would try to flee after discovering
the secret of his immortality. Hannah wasn't escaping.
She was flying straight into a trap.

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“Cap'n, the rocket's headed this way, just as Maddox said it
would.” reported one of the pirate crewmen. “Arr, blast
it out of the skies! The Pirate King promised a million
doubloons to the crew who shoots 'er down, arrr!” Suddenly,
the pirate ship was rocked by an explosive impact. “ARRR!
What were that, first mate?” the pirate captain demanded.
“It be a missile, fired by a small fighter. There be more of them
incoming! They're launching from -”

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They were launching from the carriers of Xzibit's fleet, which
had just arrived in orbit. The captain glanced at the pirate craft,
simple space galleons made from specially treated wood.
While pirates were notorious for their love of bling, they were
just as infamous for lacking hygiene, fashion sense, and the
suave self-assurance that only comes with being a stone cold pimp,
making them fodder for the fleet's cannons. If the pirates could have seen
Xzibit's beaming grin, they would have known the meaning of fear.

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In front of the rocket, a galleon exploded. Hannah quickly
maneuvered to avoid the cloud of debris. “I can see the
Montana up ahead!” she said. The rocket had no way of
docking once it got there... there was only one way of
getting aboard. They were going to have to jump.
“John, when I give the signal, I want you to exhale all
the air out of your lungs. Don't hold your breath, and
don't breathe any more in.” As the rocketship sped past
the carrier, Hannah blew the hatch and she and John leapt out
into the vacuum. Hannah used her momentum to kick open
the door to the bridge, and once both of them were inside she
closed the door and resealed it.

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Xzibit was observing the progress of the battle with the
pirates when he heard a familiar but unexpected voice
speak behind him. “Hey captain!” Hannah said. “You
got here just in time.” “Han, what is goin' on!? How did you
get on board? What are you doing in space?” “It's a long
story.” Hannah replied. “I'll explain later – we've got more
important things to worry about right now.” “You talkin'
about the pirates? We got 'em on the run, girl, it's no
problem.” “Not the pirates.” Hannah said. “That.”
She pointed to the moon.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moonbase was collapsing, and the debris was funneling
into a strange vortex of energy. Inside the vortex, a colossal
silhouette was visible, its shape twisting and contorting. The
vortex vanished, revealing an astonishing sight. From the
wreckage of the moonbase emerged a T-Rex. A cyborg T-Rex.
Wearing a pirate hat.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh, by the gods, what is that?!” Xzibit exclaimed. “That
is the true form of Maddox, the Pirate King.” John said.
“Look at that hat! It's awesome! There ain't no way our
cannons can hurt that thing, how we supposed to beat it?”
Hannah was frowning in concentration. “Can this ship be
flown manually?” she asked one of the crewmen. “Yeah,
sure.” he answered. Hannah turned to Xzibit. “Does this
ship have a self-destruct sequence?” “Girl, you be crazy,”
the captain remarked as he shook his head in disbelief.
“But I guess there's no other way. Everyone, get to the
lifeboats. I'm gonna start the self-destruct up.” He paused
for a moment. “Hannah, you better not be thinkin' o'
sacrificin' yoself. I'm gonna leave a lifeboat here for you.”
“Don't worry, captain,” Hannah said with a smile. “I don't
plan on dying anytime soon.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the lifeboats (also conveniently designed to operate in
space) separated from the Montana, Hannah nudged the
ship's control stick forward and flew towards the moon.
John stood on the bridge beside her. “I'm surprised you
came along.” she said. “Don't get the wrong idea,” the
gunman snorted. “I'm just here to make sure you do as
the captain said. If you get yourself killed, who's going
to sign my paycheck?” Hannah stifled a giggle.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Montana sped towards the T-Rex, its thrusters firing
at full throttle. Maddox let out a silent roar (cause there's
no sound in space, silly) and then fired laser beams from
his eyes. The beams cut into the ship's hull, but it kept on
coming. The carrier slammed into the giant dinosaur, lifting
it off its feet. Hannah pulled back on the ship's controls,
rocketing both Maddox and the Montana towards deep space.
The self-destruct sequence continued counting down.
10... 9... 8... Maddox struggled, his eye lasers firing wildly,
to no avail. 3... 2... 1... The ship exploded, sending the T-Rex
tumbling helplessly into the void.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A small lifeboat flew out of the explosion.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hannah sat on the bridge of the HSS Fast Pony, staring
out at the stars. She noticed John and Xzibit standing
behind her. “That was fun, wasn't it guys!” she said.
Both of them did a synchronized facepalming. She
looked thoughtful for a moment. “Now that it's all over,
I'm kind of bored though.” The captain and the gunman
couldn't facepalm hard enough.

THE END

[Master Procrastinator]

I apologize for the delay, but here is a new chapter.

HANNAH MONTANA AND THE HOLLYWOOD CONSPIRACY

ACT 1: SEARCH FOR THE MISSING HAIRBRUSH

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John leaned against the side of the pony barn, cleaning his gun.
On the barn's second floor, where Hannah lived, a door slammed
with enough force to shake the heavily reinforced building.
“Where's my hairbrush?!” yelled Hannah. “It's a hairbrush,
why don't you just buy another one?” John asked. “Because it's
my favorite one, silly.” was her reply. “Come help me look for
clues, I just know somebody stole it.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hannah, of course, had an entire room devoted to hair-brushing.
Her training in the forensic sciences had taught her that a criminal
almost always leaves some trace at the crime scene, and she
intended to find it. John was grumbling about being forced to
search the hairbrush room when the glint of something quite
possibly worth money caught his eye, and he bent down to
pick the object up. It was a small golden loop, like a link
from a tiny chain. “Hey, check this out.” he said.
Hannah examined the loop. “I need to analyze this!”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fortunately, the basement under the pony barn was, of course,
a fully equipped laboratory. “Hmm...” Hannah mused.
“It's made of pure gold, but there are traces of sand on it.
Beach sand, from the west coast, probably California.”
“Don't tell me you're going to search all of California.”
John protested. “Nope!” Hannah said. “That would be
a waste of time. Everybody knows there's only one place
in California worth mentioning: Hollywood!”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two investigators rode in to Hollywood on the back
of Hannah's favorite pony, which was so fast the journey
had been shorter than Planck time. Hannah led the pony
as John gawked at the sights. In all of his travels, he had
never seen a city such as Hollywood. Scale replicas of all
the world's wonders could be seen, and actors and actresses
in all manner of costumes walked the streets. From the
shadows, a massive figure watched the girl and her companion.
He could sense that they had the fragment of gold he had
left behind. How convenient. He had already been charged
with bringing them in, but now it was personal. He
pitied the fool who messed with his gold.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In one of the plazas of restaurants and gift shops
strategically placed to ensnare tourists, Hannah noticed
a familiar face. Behind a table piled high with books
(entitled Avoiding Detonation: How I Learned to Live
With the Bomb in Me) sat Reginald, the englishman she had
encountered in her last adventure. “Oh, Hannah! I hadn't
expected to see you here.” he said cordially. “What are you
doing here signing books for?” she asked. “Oh well, I'm afraid
I'm unemployed at the moment, my dear. The disbandment
of the Cult of Awesome has caused more than a fair bit
of chaos in Europe. It was the only thing keeping the
Vikings on our side, and now, well... The European
Space Agency was scrapped entirely to allow more
money to go towards national defense. We've tried
sending diplomats to negotiate a peace treaty with the
Vikings, but they all had their faces bitten off.”
“Ouch.” Hannah said. “Ah yes. Face-biting is the traditional
Viking greeting. If the person on the receiving end survives,
they are considered tough enough to be among Vikings.”
John stroked his chin. “So this book-writing gig... does
it pay well?” ”Not now, John! Reginald, I'm here
looking for a hairbrush that was stolen from me. Have
you got any idea where I might start looking for it?”
“You might try asking that tough-looking gentleman
behind you.” Hannah whirled to face the man, and
gasped in surprise when she recognized him.
Mr. T.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I pity da foo' who holds onto my stuff! So gimme
back my gold!” the mohawked muscleman bellowed.
John drew his gun and took aim, but before he could even
pull the trigger Mr. T had lashed a golden chain around
the weapon and yanked it out of his grasp. “I'm hella
fast, suckas, don't even try to get past my necklaces!”
Mr. T wrapped another shining chain around John's
arms, pinning them to his sides. Hannah tried desperately
to land a blow on the huge man, but though she was fast
she was not quite hella fast, and before long she too was
ensnared. The bejeweled brute laughed heartily, and lifting
one under each arm carried Hannah and John off into the
dark alleys of Hollywood.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a long, sweaty ride in Mr. T's gargantuan armpits,
Hannah and John arrived at a great brick mansion standing
alone on a hill. Inside the front room, Mr. T pressed a hidden
button on a statue beside the door and an elevator rose up
out of the floor. “So, where are you taking us?” Hannah asked.
“I don't gotta tell you foo's nothin, and I ain't got time for your
jibba jabba! Just wait an' see!” he replied. The elevator doors
opened, revealing a long, poorly lit room, with cylindrical pods
lined up against the walls. The sides of the pods facing away
from the walls had oblong windows built into them,
and through the translucent, foggy portals a faint and eerie
green light shone. “You've done well, Baracus.” a voice
spoke from the darkness at the end of the room. “Put those
two down, and remove their bindings.” Mr. T reluctantly
freed Hannah and John from the weighty mass of gold
wrapped around them, returning it to its rightful place
around his neck. “You'll be wanting a nice glass of milk,
I expect. There's a fresh jug waiting for you in the fridge
upstairs.” The urban warrior rushed back to the elevator.
“Now, Hannah, you must be wondering why I needed
your hairbrush. I wanted a sample of your hair, because
it was necessary for a little project of mine. You see these
pods here? Take a look at what's inside them.” Hannah
approached one, wiped some of the fog off the glass, and
peered inside. A face stared blankly back at her. Her face.
“I love it when a plan comes together.” said the voice
hidden in the shadows.

TO BE CONTINUED

[Fifthfiend]

Hey Hannah-fanfic dude.

I have your next story arc (http://forum.nuklearpower.com/showpost.php?p=908168).