Author has written 36 stories for Rurouni Kenshin, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Yu-Gi-Oh, Pirates of the Caribbean, Star Wars, Charmed, Dragon Ball Z, Inuyasha, Fullmetal Alchemist, Mummy, Shakespeare, Yu Yu Hakusho, Angel, Heroes, Across the Universe, and Hair.
Remo Con is an escaped convict from the C.R.A.Z.Y W.R.I.T.E.R assylym in Doesn't Exsist, California. Although her purple eyes and white hair give her away on occasion, she tried to live a fairly normal life on the run.
The newest anchorman glared at the camera, feeling it wasn't flattering him enough.
"And now we bring you an update on the Remo Con case," he says, squinting now to see his lines running across the screen by the camera.
"Tit is concieved that she is can see and ground some hair in the Hairy Pot and Tar universe, though tit is hot conformed." The camera man goggles at the idiot he is filming and the producers throws himself out the window after seeing the broadcast before he has to face the public. Remo Con remains oblivious to these happenings as she writes about another doomed soul in the condemed house.
The newscaster stared into the camera thinking "Blow up. Blow up. Blow up!" Unfortuantly it remained quite intact. The man to the side of the camera was mouthing "3, 2, 1" and then it was time for him to go on. Damn.
"T-there has b-been an upd-date in the Remo C-con c-case," he stuttered. He could feel the sweat building up on the top of his forehead. It would drip down any second, he had to hurry.
"ItappearsthatRemoConhasfinallygottenascreennameandhasnotmadeitpublicknowledge,thepolicewouldapprecaiteitthoughifsomeonewouldcontactheratOkashiraRemoandfindoutwhatherplansare. Thankyouandg'night." There, he was done. Thank God.
Somewhere watching the news
A bald man, obviously wearing a rat toupee stood infront of a green background. One hand was clutching the toupee, one thought obviously on his mind, "Stay on, Stay on, Please God let it stay on!" While in one hand his clutched a piece of paper, his eyes seemingly glued to it. His hands were shaking uncontrolably.
You could almost see his heart pounding out of his chest.
"I am sorry to report, ehem, as the station manager, ehem, it is my duty, ehem, to tell you poor people, ehem ehem, that all of the reporters have been, ehem, killed. cough hack" He tried to put on a grave face, but instead it became controted to seem like he was holding in laughter. Which would hurt the ratings...
"We are unsure of, ehem,who has, ehem,commited this act of felony,ehem, but we think it might be the elusive Remo- "
"Don't give her the credit."
"Huh?" The station manager whipped his heard around and the camera followed. In the corner, hanging out the window was a blond man with glowing green eyes.
"She's too soft to do anything like that." He hopped down and landed gracefully on the floor. The station manger began trembling. As the mysterious man came walking toward him, the station manger fell to the floor and backed up against the wall.
"Please," he begged. "Don't hurt me, I'll give you my toupee!" And with that he ripped it off his head holding it out as an offering.
"Why would I want your hair?" the man asked, his green eyes seeming to grow larger. The station manger fainted. The man turned to the camera.
"Remo, come meet me at the plain. You know where it is." And he vanished.
In The Middle of Nowhere
Remo grinned. "See you there, Liran. Its about time you showed up."
We deviate from this plotline to bring you this new update and sudden random change in Remo's schedule:
Innocent bystanders can see an unidenfiable white haired purple-eyed figured running crazed across the atlantic ocean to England, carrying a torch and pitchfork, seeminingly yelling something along the lines of "J.K. Rowling DIE! How dare she! How dare she! My poor, poor Severus! How DARE SHE DO THIS TO HIM!" AT this point innocent bystanders run for cover.
It was misty, but anything worth its mystical salt was misty somehow. Remo rolled her eyes at the obvious cliche, but this was her destination none the less and she figured as she was better off not making too much of a fuss. She was already in a bind, and getting kicked out of here would not improve the situation.
The sign was floating above the building, reading in all its misty glory "Sanctuary for the Lost" an almost holy ground for anyone, evil, good, or somewhere in the over powering grey area in the universe. It was here she had to stay after losing her way. She didn't know how long she would be here. But she did know that right now, even her evil cohorts would not welcome her. She might have slightly pissed most of them off right now so it was here she would stay until she figured out what to do. Seeing some sort of monk she internally groaned and prepared for a very long, grueling process.
Hall of Wallowers
"It's most impressive," she said, sneering. And it was. It was the hall of concerns. It was the hall of phobias. It was the hall where everything that could not be construed as pleasant to someone somewhere was kept, everything from an eternally clicking pen to Slash Fest '05. It was an amusing room to Remo because it was there. Not necessarily that she found what was in it amusing, because she found the evisarated body of what she assumed was someone who had tried to go against some norm somewhere less amusing than she would have liked, but it amused her nonethelesss by its simple existance.
You see, the room was an expanse that could not be measured by any standards. It could not be comprehended by any person in the universe, even those who kept it up and running as best they could. And all that space, full of all those worries, full of all those hated things, full of all those things people could not go a day without thinking of an shuddering, was deeply amusing because it meant that most people in the universe spent their time contemplating these things they did not want to think about.
This room fit nicely in the Sanctuary of the Lost, becasue all those people were indeed lost. Some more lost than others, but all were lost at least a little.
The whole thing's amusment was magnified by the fact that most of these complaints were posted somewhere on the internet.
"It's like they all think someone cares," Remo mocked quietly.
"Because someone inevitably does," the almost silent monk beside her rebuked.
"Hmph," she grunted dismissively. The damn monk has clearly never left the sanctuary.
We Would Love to Resume The Story, However...
Remo was sulking. She was sleepy, and she was not pleased. This time has been taken for her to rub her eyes blearily and yawn repeatedly while other characters in this story take the time to quickly and quietly build a new news station.
When the story resumes, chance are said news station will regret being built, but as of now, let us all take this moment to laugh quietly to ourselves as Remo passes out on the floor, snoring quietly.
"We here at W.P.L.E.A.S.E.D.O.N.T.B.L.O.W.U.S.U.P would like to take this moment to thank everyone who worked so hard to build this station, even though we couldn't afford to pay them," the anchorman announced, pausing briefly to look his mirror.
"And we would also like to thank everyone who has re-established the "Where Is Remo Now" hotline." The mirror, the anchorman liked to believe, was his personal savior.
"And we would finally like to thank Remo for not killing any of our staff members. Yet. Wait- is that a split end? Do I have a split end? Makeup? Makeup! Get in here! I cannot have a split end! I simply cannot!" he howled.
The station manger appeared.
"We apologize. Fault, er, equipment- yes, you're fired. Ahem. Normal programming will resume in a moment, for now please enjoy the brief presentation of our very own dancing mushrooms!"
"Even I have better tastes than that," Remo said in disgust. What a waste of valuble viewing time. She really didn't understand why the Middle of Nowhere didn't get more channels.
The new anchorman sat in front of the camera, nervously shuffling through the sheets of paper before him. The camera man gave the countdown.
The station manager put the finishing touches on his suicide note.
Hopefully something would explode. That usually happened right about now.
And then he held up a piece of paper. I Quit!
The teleprompter woman ran out in front of the camera.
"As you may all be aware, a few months ago the ever elusive Remo Con disappeared quite completely off the face of the planet. However, recent sightings have placed her leaving an airport in Cairo heading toward London. It is believed she will attempt to join the End of an Age ceremony. Harry Potter fans are to be reminded that she is dangerous and prone to ruining canon at the slightest provocation and never wrapping the new story line up- though we have recieved word that the current stand still in both the Jonathan/Imhotep world as well as the Shakespearian massacre will soon see updates. Probably.
"Again, under no circumstances are you to approach her. Simply call our hotline and trained professionals will handle it from there. Thank you."
A few moments later she too handed in her resignation.
The reporter squinted in vain at the piece of paper in his hands.
"Oh, what the hell. I believe I'm here to discuss something about some criminal named Nemo- Nemo, now that's a funny name, why I remember-" the camera man cleared his throast nervously, while the rest of the crew frantically mouthed 'Remo' at the senile old man, cursing the day the young, capable reporters had decided they valued their lives over good news.
"Anyway, as I was saying, this Nemo person- now what are all you whipersnappers flapping your lips about for? Hush, I'm trying to give a report here. Anyhow, this Nemo person has been spotted, as of late, studiously avoiding some vampire thingymabob and has seemingly been spotted in Ethiopia-" the crew valinatly tried to get 'Egypt' across "doing something involving violent. Or maybe magical. You know, in my day that was considered the mark of the devil-"
The camera man stopped filming. Hopefully the station would judiciously edit the segement. Building repairs just weren't in the budget this year.