Attack of the Killer Homunculi

Summary- Yeah, Fayt and Co. whine about being created by the 4-D beings, but what happens when something sentient they've invented finds out the same thing? One thing's for sure: the Homunculi aren't as cute as they look...

A/N: It's kinda short, but this is just the teaser chapter. I'll see what kind of responses I get before I put up longer chapters. Well, hope you enjoy the craziness… -smiles-

Chapter One: The Hangover You Don't Deserve

The annoying beep of the communicator's signal woke Welch Vineyard from her morning-long nap. As she opened one blood-shot eye, the bright sunlight confronted her and she remembered the reason she was sleeping on the job: she had the worst hangover of all time. She tried to ignore it, but the communicator began bleeping in time with the throbbing of her headache. Wincing in pain, she considered throwing it and the video camera out the window, but managed to refrain, knowing that any damage would come from her already meager wages. A voice that was designed to be soft, but now sounded as jarring as the beeping chimed in with a soft countdown. Welch had installed a timer in the video camera since a few… mishaps… with the camera randomly turning on whenever anyone wanted to get ahold of her. With ten seconds remaining, she managed to barely raise her head and put on a grimace that she hoped looked like a smile. She tried to tame her hair back into her customary pigtails, but the rat nest it had turned into overnight refused to comply. Rummaging through her desk drawers, she finally managed to find a compact mirror to assess the damage, and with one second left, she saw that her eyeliner had smudged to cover half of her face as she slept. She threw the mirror across the room where it shattered into the wall, and glared into the camera, daring whoever it was on the other side to comment on her appearance.

Cliff's startled face appeared on the screen in front of her.

At least it's not anyone who I wouldn't want to see me like this…She thought, musing on a certain blue-haired hero.

"Whaddya want?" Welch grunted, not caring if she sounded rude.

"Rough night?" The person on the other end winked roguishly.

"It's none of your business unless you've just created a cure for hangovers." Welch snarled.

Her headache came throbbing back to life with a vengeance as she spoke and she let out a low moan, "…Please tell me that you're patenting it now…"

"Ah…" Cliff grinned impishly, "So it was a bender that did this to ya. Lucky. I was starting to worry that an experiment went wrong on you, too."

"Shut up." Welch glared, before thinking about what he'd just said.

She groaned exasperatedly and slumped. People were calling in with problems and it was only…

Welch peered at her clock to see the red numbers flashing '2:48 PM' at her mockingly.

"What's the problem?" She grimaced as cotton-mouth attacked her throat. She gritted her teeth, convincing herself to take the call before hunting down Milenya and forcing her to make her any potion that would come close to helping her recover.

How is it that 'hangover' isn't a status ailment? She winced, not really listening to Cliff.

"…so we really need your help over here. The workshop's a mess." He finished.

The thought of Fayt seeing her like this coupled with her inability to move without aching made Welch grope for any excuse to not cross the street to their workshop.

"Err… sorry, but we're really very busy right now. I'm afraid I can't--"

A stony look settled on Cliff's face.

"Alrighty, but I'll just have to drag you over here so that who-know-who can see you looking so—"

Welch glared at the Klausian, knowing it was a lose-lose situation, but she finally gave in, feeling too exhausted to argue.

"I'll give you some aspirin…" Cliff tempted.

Welch had first learned of aspirin when Mirage had been treating Ameena. It had worked on the sick girl's temperature, and the doctor of the city had gone on and on about the effectiveness of it. Welch was sure it'd work on her pained body.

"I'll be over in fifteen minutes. No less." Welch grumbled unhappily, hanging up before the man on the other line could say anything.

She grabbed a bottle of cider (courtesy of a recent patent from Damda) from the new products shelf and took a swig to take the edge off of her headache. She sighed and tried to remember the last part of her date with Count Noppen, but all she could recall was a slight haze over the events of the evening and that he'd bored her so much talking about his new book that she had to drink bottles of cider to look even half interested. Cursing her luck in guys, Welch made her way to the back restroom, hoping that she could make herself presentable in such a small span of time.

She emerged ten minutes later looking relatively normal, if a bit ill. Grabbing her wand, she stomped across the street, hoping for Cliff's sake that whatever the crisis was was actually worth her time.

Little did she know…

A/N: Ooooo… so how'd you all like the teaser? Hungover Welch amuses me to no end. –grins- Anyhow, it'll get much more crazy-funny-ish in the chapters to come. Review to egg the craziness on!

NEXT CHAPTER: Fayt and Co.'s POV and how a simple experiment could go so very wrong…

See the pretty periwinkle box? Click it… I promise it doesn't bite!