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Because I have nothing better to do than write stories and play Pokemon. This has no relation to any previous writings, besides the main characters' personalities and friendships with one another.
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A man in a long pitch black trench coat paces back and forth. The room is extravagantly decorated in gold and silver designs that refer back to the early Colonial period in British history.
The man stands in front of a window filled with sunlight.
???: Hmmm... I wonder if they're still out there. If so, then I might have come across the perfect bait... heh.
He looks up into the sky; No clouds are present. A smile breaks out across his face.
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Ritz: Brian, that letter is complete crap. It's faked and you know it.
Brian gets down on his knees.
Brian: Ritz, it HAS to be true! This letter says Polka is in trouble and we need to help her!
Ritz: And how did she manage to get that letter out if she was supposedly 'kidnapped'?
Brian: It says she tied the letter to the leg of a carrier pigeon when the guards were too-
Spyke busts into the room with a bottle of Mountain Dew in hand.
Spyke: Guys! I have a shitload of energy right now. Let's do something really action-packed and completely absurd.
Brian: How about saving Polka's life?
Spyke: YES.
Ritz hops up and sniffs the Mountain Dew bottle.
Ritz: ... Spyke, are you really drinking Mountain Dew?
Spyke: hiccup yessss.
Ritz: ... did you fill your Mountain Dew bottle with beer again?
Spyke: Very probably...
Ritz: Riiight. Well, I think I'd better-
Spyke slaps away Ritz's advancing hand.
Spyke: No. We're saving hiccup Waltz, whether you like it or snot.
Brian: It's Polka.
Spyke: Same difference... hiccup.
-----
Five hours later, after a short nap by Spyke and a long car ride...
Spyke: Argh... my head feels like hell.
Spyke wakes up in the back of the car, Ritz driving and Brian in the passenger seat.
Ritz: You look it too.
Brian: And smell like it... eww...
Spyke: Ok, enough with the remarks. Where are we and what are we doing?
Brian: Going towards the old mansion to save Polka!
Spyke: Alright that sounds pretty- ... wait, what? Brian, I thought we established that you and Polka being in the same place at once was a horrible idea.
Brian: But you don't understand! She needs our help!
Spyke: ... you'll need to plead your case more convincingly.
Brian: I'll buy everybody strawberry smoothies?
Spyke: Sounds good to me. We there yet?
Ritz: Well gee, if we were there then why would the car still be moving?
Spyke: Ooook, I'll take that as a no...
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Five minutes later, they arrive at the mansion. Spyke hands out BB guns to everyone.
Ritz: Eh, logic tells me that these won't kill anybody in our way...
Spyke: Because we aren't dealing with 'anybody'. We're dealing with someone that bullets would be useless against.
Ritz: So he has a lot of bullet proof armor? Well BB's won't do much better in that case.
Spyke: No, you'll see what I mean. Brian you ready?
Brian: Hmmm... these look a lot like those balls you see in the pinball machines... only smaller... how do they do that...
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The three friends walk into the atrium of the ancient mansion. BB guns are kept at their sides locked and loaded. A man walks up at the top of the balcony draped in a long pitch black trench coat.
???: Good evening, Brian, Spyke and Ritz.
Brian: Uh, Spyke? He knows our names.
Spyke: No s**t.
???: I believe you have come to re-obtain something very dear to all of you...
Spyke: Actually, I was too drunk to realize Brian's original request...
Ritz: I'm just here because Solitaire was getting old.
???: Ok, ONE of you is here to re-obtain something very dear to you...
Brian looks around.
Brian: ... oh, that's me! Ya, give me back Polka or I'll put a BB in your face... or something like that.
???: Heh, but did Spyke not tell you who I am? You should have figured it out by now...
The mysterious man lets down his hood. His face, his eyes, his hair... he looked exactly like Spyke.
Spyke: Guys, meet Anti-Spyke. Anti-Spyke, meet the guys.
Ritz: Oh hell, you have to be kidding. This definitely feels like the desperate solution to a writer's block about villian ideas.
Brian: Spyke, you have a twin?
Spyke: Not a twin... a life-binding clone...
Anti-Spyke: Mwuahaha! And you know what makes the situation even better? If you kill me, then Spyke dies as well!
Brian: ... oooooohhh... so that's why we're not using bullets! Right, well this is pretty freaky and all, but I'm still waiting for Polka.
Anti-Spyke reaches behind him to bring out a life-size doll closely resembling Polka.
Brian: Polka!
Ritz: Brian, that's a doll. You're a moron.
Spyke: Unless Polka suddenly has cloth for skin, I'd have to agree.
Brian: Guys, I'm serious!
Anti-Spyke: Listen to your partner, Spyke. You might learn something.
In the following silence, faint muffled speech can be heard from inside the doll.
Ritz: Oh... my...
Spyke raises his BB gun.
Spyke: This time you've gone too far, Anti-Me. Put down the girl or this BB will hurt you a lot more than it'll hurt me.
Anti-Spyke: Hm? Really? Depends if you can catch me first!
Before anyone has time to react, Anti-Spyke leaps forward off the balcony with superhuman-engineered legs and lands behind the three. He takes off running out the front doors of the mansion being closely pursued. Spyke and Ritz take carefully aimed shots but miss before Anti-Spyke jumps into their car, starts the engine, and speeds off.
They all stop running and catch their breath.
Ritz: ... o-... ok... I believe leaving the keys in the car was a BAD idea...
Spyke slams his fist into the ground.
Spyke: Dammit! How did I know it was him... he should have died a long time ago.
Brian: Well wouldn't you have died as well?
Spyke: No... it's different. Come on. I'll explain back at the house.
Ritz: Well we're sorta stranded out here.
Spyke: Oh... that too.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Two more parts to come.
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