sir, echofon is a program, not a device. (gingasaur) wrote in the_death_wing,
sir, echofon is a program, not a device.
gingasaur
the_death_wing

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*drum roll* Welcome to The Death Wing!

Welcome to the first fight of The Death Wing. We picked the winner and the place in this one just to give you an idea of what this place is going to be all about. Give us comments if you'd like, in fact, we would indeed love you for that, and if you add us to your friends list you can be here when we set up the poll for the next fight!

This is our first one, so you know what, have mercy on us. We're just warming up. :P

Enjoy!



NOTES: Don’t take this seriously. Please, in the name of all that is holy, don’t. It’s just supposed to be fun. And guess what, we don't own shit. Except Orange and Ginga, we do own them, because they are us. :P


Guard: *glares* I can’t let you in; your names aren’t on the list.
???: What do you mean you can’t let us in!? We’re here to commentate!
???: For The Death Wing! Hello!?
Guard: Right. “The Death Wing”. *rolls eyes*
???: YES. THE DEATH WING. Now let us in!
Guard: Look, if you don’t leave now I’m going to have to get the Secret Service in here to escort you out.
???: Come on! This job is very important! Practically as important as being President! You have to let us in.
???: Wait, wait, let me get my little “A” badge out. *rummages through purse*
Guard: You’re not supposed to have an “A” badge until I issue one to you.
???: AAARRRGGGHHH, COME ON! What can we do? Can we bribe you?
Guard: No.
???: *pulls out a slice of cake* Here! Cake! Everyone loves cake. It’s got blueberry filling!
??? & ???: BLUE FOR DEMOCRATS! *grin*
Guard: Go away.
???: *gasp* He resists the Democratic Cake.
???: TRAITOR. *gets tears in eyes* Don’t you want to contribute to party unity!?
Guard: Get out of my face and do it quickly.

*many staffers are now staring at the situation*

???: LEEEEEOOOOOO! HELP USSSS!
Guard: *stands up from desk, phone in hand* Alright, that’s it.

*Leo walks into the lobby, staring sternly at the Guard, ???, and ???*

Leo: There you are. What took you kids so long?
???: We got a little held up by this asshole. *points to the Guard*
Leo: Did you give him the slice of the Democratic Cake?
???: Yeah. It didn’t work.
Leo: *stares at the guard* You resisted the cake?
Guard: Their names weren’t on the list!
Leo: ??? and ??? won’t be listed, smart one. Don’t tell me that’s what you were looking for.
Guard: *blinks* But…
Leo: *grabs the list* Give me that. *he brandishes his glasses in a grandiose fashion, puts them on, and scans the list* They’re right here, you idiot. Orange and Ginga.
Guard: Well, if they’d been walking around with their real names instead of question marks on their faces-
Leo: This is exposition! You can’t be obvious with your identity in the exposition or else it’s not fun anymore.
Guard: *opens mouth to speak, but is stopped by Leo*
Leo: Oh, just give ‘em their little “A” badges so we can get on with this.
Guard: *closes mouth* Yes, sir.

*the Guard grabs two “A” badges and tosses them at Orange and Ginga, who smile gleefully as they put them on. The Guard glares some more and watches them walk by his desk*

Orange: *looks around at everything as they walk into the lobby of the White House* Ooooh.
Ginga: *also looking around with the same expression of wonder* Aaaah.
Leo: Oh, stop, it’s not like you haven’t seen it before.
Ginga: It’s just so different being IN it instead of WATCHING it on TV.
Leo: No it’s not.
Orange: Leo, you’re unusually sarcastic today.
Leo: Look, I’m about to watch the President of the United States and the President-Elect duke it out in the Rose Garden. The sarcasm’s pretty much unstoppable today, as this is probably the most humorous thing I’m going to see all year.
Orange: I don’t know, C.J. vs. Big Bird would probably top that.
Ginga: SHH, future fights are top-secret, remember?
Orange: *covers mouth* Whoops!

*the pedeconferencing between Leo, Orange, and Ginga continues until they reach his office. Once inside, he hands them a box*

Leo: Here, these are all the things you asked for.
Orange: *rummages through the box* Three microphones, check. Block of cheddar cheese, check.
Ginga: Are the crackers there, too?
Orange: Crackers, check. Also, Goldfish crackers? VERY check.
Ginga: *darts to Orange’s side and peeks inside the box* Ooh, Extra Chedder Goldfish! My favorite!

*Leo continues to watch, leaning on his desk as Ginga and Orange look through the box*

Ginga: Scissors, check.
Orange: Giant rubber pencil, check.
Ginga: Re-useable ice cubes, check.
Orange: Jell-o shooting bazooka, check!
Ginga: Well, if we have that, then damn, we’re set.
Orange: Right-o! Leo, are they ready yet?
Leo: Not quite. Meaning this is the perfect time for you to explain to me what we’re doing here again.
Ginga: Well, thaaaat’s easy!

*sparkling lights descend upon Leo’s office, and Ginga and Orange grab their microphones. Leo stares incredulously as spotlights shine on the microphone-wielding pair*

Orange: What we do here, Leo, is we fight!
Ginga: Well, not we exactly. The West Wing characters do that for us, we just sit back and watch.
Orange: And commentate.
Ginga: Yes. This is “The Death Wing”, a place where all your favorite characters duke it out in various White House locales, and even non-White House locales. They’ll kick, they’ll bite, and they’ll throw disco balls. The laws of physics don’t matter here, and neither does common sense, so literally anything is possible!
Orange: We’ll pick the fighters, but the rest is up to you, the people! Every week (or so), you’ll pick the location of the next fight… and who’s going to win it.
Ginga: Right, we don’t want to be biased here, because knowing us and the way we are, we’d be having C.J. win every fight.
Orange: Oh yeah, definitely.
Leo: And I’m your battle analyst.
Ginga: Right! You help us in our commentating, and before each fight, you give us your opinion on who you think will win!
Orange: In all seriousness for just a moment, Ginga and I didn’t feel it would be appropriate for you to participate in any of the fights, because John Spencer really did die and all. So it just… wouldn’t be funny.
Ginga: And that’s our main goal here, to make you laugh in disbelief at the insane mind-blowing things occurring here every week.
Orange: These mind-blowing things which are not supposed to be taken seriously at all.
Ginga: Right, right.
Leo: Well, I’ve got some opinions on who’s going to win, I don’t suppose you’d like to get all these sparkles out of my office so I can voice them?
Orange: *snaps fingers* There! All gone. *gives Leo his microphone* Voice away.
Leo: *clears throat and taps the top of the mic a few times* Yeah, the winner’s going to be the President.
Ginga: And why do you say that, Leo?
Leo: Because if worse comes to worse, he’ll make the President-Elect’s head explode with mindless trivia. If he starts “There is one fruit”, he’s done for.
Orange: *nods seriously* Indeed. The trivia kills.
Ginga: Oh, yes. I know I’m excited, as this is our first fight here at The Death Wing! I’m also rooting for Jed, because really, who does not love Josiah Bartlet?
Orange: Only idiots don’t.
Ginga: Thaaat’s right. Idiots do not love Josiah Bartlet, and there are no idiots in this room.
Leo: This room is also the wrong one for the fight. We’re out in the Rose Garden, remember? I suspect they’re out there now waiting for us.
Ginga: *gasp* You’re right. Boy, Leo, if it wasn’t for you we’d be pretty lost.
Orange: Y…eah. I don’t even know how to get to the Rose Garden.
Ginga: Help.
Leo: *sigh* Come on, it’s this way. *shakes head and walks out of the room with Ginga and Orange trailing behind*

*Out in the Rose Garden, many a lawn chair is set up in perfect formation. Secret Service agents are milling around, talking into their tiny microphones. The audience consists of Mrs. Landingham, C.J., Sam, Josh, Toby, and Abbey. They’re sitting in the front row of the lawnchairs, watching the commotion around them*

C.J.: Boy, this is some setup.
Josh: You’re tellin’ me.
Abbey: It’s just a bunch of lawnchairs around an open spot of grass.
Sam: I think it’s more the fact that we’re going to be seeing a fight here that’s impressing them. And me. I’m definitely impressed.
Mrs. Landingham: *sighs* To think it’s come down to fistfights at the White House. *lifts her cookie jar off the grass and opens it* Would anyone like a cookie?
Toby: Yes, please. *grabs three out of the jar*
Mrs. Landingham: Toby, I said a cookie. Singular. Put those two back or you don’t get any.

*Toby stares at his cookies. Mrs. Landingham stares at him. Sam stares at Mrs. Landingham. Abbey stares at Sam staring at Mrs. Landingham. Josh stares at the cookies and remarks that he wants some, too. C.J. elbows him in the side and stares at the spectacle as well. After a tense minute, Toby slowly places two of the cookies back in the jar. The others sigh with relief as Mrs. Landingham smiles, closes the jar, and places it back on the grass beside her chair.*

*Ginga, Orange, and Leo make their way over to the lawn chairs and sit down beside everyone else*

Orange: Hey, guys.
Everyone Else: Hey.
C.J.: You know, for all this exposition we don’t even know how you two ended up here or why we let you into the White House so easily.
Ginga: That is a very good point.
Orange: But nobody cares about that because we’re here to watch the fight, don’t you know.
Leo: Which would be fine except our contestants don’t seem to be here yet.
Bartlet: Not so! We are here now to fight to the death like proud medieval warriors or any other sort of macho man analogy you can think of.

*Bartlet and Santos saunter into the middle of the Rose Garden, Bartlet a little less so because he’s having to use his cane. Santos is waving to everyone and Bartlet is therefore giving him a strange look*

Josh: God, this is rough. I’m so torn; I don’t know who I want to win.
Toby: WELL, YOU CAN’T JUST SWITCH SIDES IN THE MIDDLE AND LEAVE US WITH A CANDYGRAM SO YOU HAVE TO PICK SOMEONE.
Ginga: Haha, a future fight brews already. Annnyway… hello Mr. President and Mr. President-Elect! Are you ready to smack the crap out of each other?
Abbey: Oh, I know my husband’s more than ready; he’s only been talking about it all morning.
Bartlet: Although I’m usually not privy to attacking someone with my fists, I think I’ll make an exception today. I like to roll up my sleeves and jump in the fray.
Orange: Why did that sound like his back pills speech?
Santos: I’d like to request a line, please.
Orange: REQUEST DENIED.
Ginga: *brandishes her microphone* So, Orange, you’re a famous loather of Jimmy Smits. Can you tell us why?
Orange: He rubs me the wrong way.
Ginga: Like a bad bar of soap…
Orange: …you’re weird.
Ginga: We’re all weird here; Toby’s talking about candygrams again, for cryin’ out loud.
Toby: BECAUSE YOU DON’T JUST WALK AWAY, YOU DON’T-
Orange: PLEASE save it for your fight with Josh, whenever that will be!
Josh: I still… would really like to have a cookie.
Mrs. Landingham: You missed your opportunity for cookies.
Josh: You didn’t even offer me any cookies!
Ginga: *holds the microphone up to Bartlet* SOOOO, you are, um, the President, and I can’t really think of anything to say so, GO FIGHT AND STUFF!

*Bartlet and Santos blink and then turn toward each other. They just stand there, staring at each other. Crickets chirp all too predictably, even though it’s the middle of the day.*

Santos: So.
Bartlet: So.

*They stare at each other some more. Sam shifts uncomfortably in his lawn chair. Toby coughs. Abbey raises an eyebrow and strums her fingers on her armrest. Leo rolls his eyes. C.J. eats some Goldfish. Josh tries to reach for Mrs. Landingham’s cookie jar but is stopped when she slaps the back of his hand.*

Orange: And our contestants are… standing and trying to stare each other down. Oh, yeah.
Leo: Do something, Mr. President!
Santos: Hey, you were going to be my VP, you can’t root for him!
Leo: Yes I can.
Santos: No you-

*suddenly Santos falls onto the grass, flat on his face. He has been tripped… by Bartlet’s cane.*

Bartlet: Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re supposed to be fighting me, not our audience.
Santos: *spits grass out of mouth* Hey! That was cheap! That must be breaking a rule!
Abbey: You go, Jackass! *blows Bartlet a kiss*
Bartlet: Thank you, Medea. *catches the kiss*

*A stack of papers smacks Bartlet in the face, and he falls into a bunch of roses*

Santos: Ha! EAT MY EDUCATION PLAN! Does that paper taste good?
Bartlet: Oh no you did not.

*Bartlet lunges for Santos’s leg and grabs it. He takes out Mrs. Landingham’s pen from inside his pocket, rolls up Santos’s pant leg, and begins to write.*

Bartlet: “I… am… a sissy… who would dare to throw… his president… into roses… and I shall… be sorely defeated… by… him.”

*Santos growls and kicks Bartlet in the face. Pretty much everyone’s mouths drop and C.J. shoves Goldfish into her mouth at an alarming rate. Santos then pins Bartlet to the ground, takes the pen out of his hand and writes on his forehead.*

Santos: “Property of Matthew Santos… P-R-E-S-I-D-E-N-T!”

*Bartlet lands a punch right on Santos’s stomach*

Mrs. Landingham: *sighs* Like a couple of boys in the schoolyard. *munches on a cookie*

Orange: Oh God! All this time we’ve been forgetting to commentate!
Ginga: Crap crap crap, you’re right! Okay, so! President Bartlet has just punched President-Elect Santos in the stomach!
Leo: We just read that!
Orange: Wait! What’s the President doing?
Ginga: Oh my God, he’s not doing what I think he’s doing, is he?
Leo: Oh yeah he is. He’s breaking out the silly string.
Orange: And now it’s interesting. The President has a can of silly string; he is threatening Santos with it.

*Bartlet steps toward Santos, shaking the can of silly string and waggling his eyebrows tauntingly*

Orange: Oho, man, what NOW, Matt!?
Leo: He does look a little panicked there.
Ginga: Now he’s running… he’s going… he’s gone behind a rose bush. Now he has lifted the rose bush out of the ground and he’s using it as a shield.
Santos: Bring it on! I’ve got thorns now!
Orange: The President doesn’t seem too intimidated; he’s still stepping closer.
Ginga: Santos is stepping back…
Orange: Bartlet’s stepping forward…
Leo: *yelling* Get on with it, Jed! Come on!
Orange: Oh! Santos has thrown the rose bush right at our President! Isn’t that a felony!? Where’s the Secret Service when we need them?
Leo: They’re over there making bets. *points to where the Secret Service is gathered, exchanging money and talking excitedly*
Ginga: Well, they won’t be able to help Jed, then, who’s been hit by the rose bush, has fallen on the ground and dropped the can of silly string!
Bartlet: *flails around, plant bits scatter everywhere*
Santos: *takes the can and throws it across the Rose Garden* Ha! What. NOW, Mr. President!
Orange: What an idiot, he could’ve damn well used the silly string.
Ginga: The look on his face right now suggests that he’s definitely realizing that. Poor guy.
Orange: Now Jed has torn the rose bush apart and is standing up again! I think I see a leaf in his hair.
Ginga: And I think there’s a thorn in his-
Leo: MOVING ON, he’s taking his cane and holding it like a sword.
Bartlet: Enguarde! *lunges forward and whacks Santos in the side*
Santos: OW! Ow! My spleen! Appendix! Whatever’s over there! Dr. Bartlet, help me!
Abbey: *scoffs* You’re on your own, Matt.
Bartlet: *laughs victoriously at Santos’s agony* Toby! That’s… how I beat anyone, really. *looks at his cane* This thing has really been useful since I started using it.
Santos: *holding his side and rocking back and forth on the floor* God, I think you broke one of my ribs! You… you Demacrap!
Bartlet: *polishes his cane* Go back to NYPD Blue, Matt.
Orange: BURRRRRRN. You can feel the heat from that one.
Bartlet: Oh. Wait. I’m sorry, that’s right, you can’t go back; you died there.
Ginga: OH! DOUBLE BURN. I was just waiting for him to bring that out! That’s like the Double Janney of disses right there.
Orange: True, so true. Matt just got spanked by the President who’s got about 20 years on him. *shakes head*
Ginga: He did indeed. This was actually a pretty short fight. Looks like the President-Elect can’t work miracles like he did during the elections.
Orange: That was no miracle, it was rigged. CHEATERS NEVER PROSPER!
Ginga: Oh yeah! That’s very true, too. You look pretty satisfied about the fight’s outcome.
Orange: You bet your ass I am. *takes some crackers and stuffs them into mouth* He never should win anything.
Ginga: So harsh. I don’t think he’s that bad, really. *reaches for her own Goldfish bag and eats some. C.J., who is now out of Goldfish, looks over at the full bag longingly.*
Orange: *glares at Ginga* Well, Leo agrees with me. *she looks at him hopefully* Don’t you, Leo?
Leo: What am I supposed to say? *he reaches into Ginga’s bag of Goldfish and grabs a handful* I agreed to be his VP. *eats a few… and then looks positively disgusted*
Orange: DAMN IT.
Leo: *mumbling* C.J. really likes these? They’re revolting.
Orange: *pokes Leo* They’re not that bad. Mmm, the snack that smiles back! *cheesy smile*
Ginga: Well, while Matt takes a trip over to ER we’ll say goodbye to our viewers and hope they enjoyed this first fight.
Orange: *waves like a maniac* BYE VIEWERS I LOVE YOU!
Leo: *too busy spitting the Goldfish out and trying to get rid of the taste to notice anything else*
Ginga: Bye-bye everybody! Make sure to vote for the next fight, ‘cause it’s all up to you!
*Fade Out!*


Executive Producers
Fuyu Ginga
Orangespaces
John We-
Hey! How the fuck did he manage to work his name in there! Get it out! Get it out now!

THE END
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