Crono Sector is a man who believes he does not make mistakes. He very much does not extend this attitude towards others. Here is a list of his main criticisms with a variety of Hell Week characters.
Lady Luna: A naive wrecking ball who lacks direction.
Doctor Dalmatian: He is, to his credit, persistent. But he’s easily distracted. Would easily have gotten himself killed by now if it weren’t for his superpowers.
Gepetto: Fragile. Weak. Crono holds a particular disdain for those who aren’t willing to do what needs to be done.
Harley Hofelder: (Harley is fortunately spared, as he and Crono never met face to face)
Fester Jester: Loud and reckless to the point of being irritating. But at least she’s not Boogie.
Trencher: He’s crass and greedy. But he is able to do his job without too much mouthing off, so Crono tolerates him the most out of the members of the Villain Alliance.
Boogie Man: Obnoxious, flagrant, disrespectful and intolerable. He is always deliberately late to meetings, his wardrobe is an attention-hungry eyesore, and you’d think he lives to make Crono’s life difficult. Crono’s least favourite of the Alliance to interact with.
Miss Vile: Rude and has a loose understanding of caution.
Mr Venus: His ambition drives him to frequently overstep. Foolish to believe he ever has a chance of being one of the Alliance’s highest members.
Black Mamba: Very little, actually. Black Mamba is a man worthy of fear and respect. But at times his confidence borders on complacency…and his judgement may be impaired when it comes to Will. Ultimately, he is a smart man keeping the city in order, and Crono will remain doggedly loyal to him.
Will: His very presence within the Alliance is a threat. He cannot be trusted and he distracts Mamba. He’s disrespectful and he goes out of his way to irritate Crono as much as he can. Crono would forcibly remove him if Mamba hadn’t explicitly forbid him from doing so.
Hush Weaver and FJ can't hang around together because they're completely incompatible, power-wise and emotionally, but Hush Weaver and Pleonexia couldn't meet because I fully believe Pleo would kill Hush in less than an hour
Went ahead and made a few more Pokemon teams for some of my OCs. In order (left to right) we have: Gepetto, Doctor Dalmatian, Lady Luna, Fester Jester, Crono Sector, and Bronco Clement
Characters: Gepetto/Richard Dahl, Fester Jester, Doctor Dalmatian, Lady Luna/Fall Bates
Prompt list: Found here
Funnel Cake - Commonly served at carnivals, it closely resembles a tangle of string. Dusted with powdered sugar for extra sweetness. Photos rarely do it justice, making it look either very appetizing, or vomit-inducing.
When Gepetto opened his eyes, he was dangling in the air. His arms were held aloft, tied by thick ribbon to something far above him. There was a throbbing pain in the back of his head, a reminder of the blunt instrument he’d been hit with before he’d fallen unconscious. There was a chuckle on his left, and Gepetto perked up, attention drawn towards the sound. Fester Jester rolled into his view, balancing atop a large pink and blue ball. Gepetto stiffened.
“You’re awake!” Fester chirped, her grin emphasised by her makeup. “Welcome back to the big top.”
“Where are my friends?” Gepetto questioned. His eyes were burning into Fester Jester, watching her as she performed a shocked expression and then rolled across his line of sight, travelling on top of the ball under her feet. She passed by a large cage that hadn’t been present when Gepetto and his superhero friends had first entered Fester’s big top. A mound of brown and red was curled up inside, a tail occasionally tapping against the cage floor.
“For one weekend only, the greatest show on earth proudly presents…” Fester threw an arm in a flourish before the cage. Gepetto’s heart dropped as he realised the creature within the cage was Lady Luna, but Fester was moving again, slinking behind a giant spinning wheel and gripping the edge with visible excitement. “The beast of New Salvation City, neither wolf nor woman! And her dear friend, the fallen angel that taunts death, the human target.” Gepetto’s eyes widened as Fester Jester spun the wheel with a heave. Doctor Dalmatian was tied to it, his body limp but held in place by the wrists and ankles. Fester watched the display with another smile, her red eyes blazing with delight and focus. Gepetto grit his teeth and struggled against his own restraints, trying to pull the ribbons free. His escape attempt was unsuccessful, leaving him wriggling in the air like a worm on a hook.
“I didn’t expect you to wake up first.” Fester Jester continued speaking, moving backwards and returning within Gepetto’s view. He fixed his gaze back on her, still swinging back and forth despite no longer consciously moving. She reached a hand out, ignoring Gepetto’s obvious recoil and brushing her fingers against the back of his head. He winced, pain jolting through his skull at the contact. Fester pulled her hand back, examining the blood on her fingertips before wiping it away. “You, the living marionette. I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully in my show.” Gepetto’s tied hands clenched. He wasn’t a talkative individual, but his anger and growing fear for his friends curbed that nature.
“Let them go. Now.” He ordered. Fester snorted, expression twisting into amused disbelief. She shook her head, moving away from Gepetto. Her feet danced across the surface of the ball with uncanny balance, never once falling from her perch.
“No no no. I need them, just like I need you.” As Fester Jester spoke, Gepetto struggled again, trying to hoist himself further up the ribbons. The glee faded from her voice, falling into a scowl. “Besides, you three have been the greatest threat to my circus I’ve ever seen. I can’t allow that to continue.” Gepetto’s arms shook, the muscles tense as they took the brunt of pulling up Gepetto’s body weight. He slipped, barely catching himself before he could lose what progress he had made, and grunted with the effort.
“They’re not your puppets, Fester!” He spat through gritted teeth.
“Are they yours?” She questioned. Even entertaining the thought made him feel sick. They very well could have been, with his abilities, but he wasn’t a monster. He didn’t take away people’s willpower like Fester Jester did.
“No.”
“Then they’re up for grabs.” Fester declared. She turned and snapped her fingers. The cage rattled as the mound of fur uncurled and rose to its feet, rumbling lowly. Luna growled and snapped at the bars, her hackles raised. A mask was attached to her face, obscuring her eyes and muzzle but not her teeth, which were sharp and bared beneath her curled lips. The mask displayed a simple face smiling in joy.
Gepetto swallowed and increased his pace, scaling the ribbons until he had plenty of give. He locked his legs around them, using one hand to pick at the ties around his other wrist. Fester Jester was cooing over Luna, stating commands and plans for their act as Gepetto worked at the knots. One wrist came free, and he quickly shifted to the other, willing his fingers not to shake. At last, both ribbons were untied, and he dropped to the floor, rolling to absorb the impact. Gepetto looked up in time to see the pink and blue ball slam into him, sending him flying backwards. The ball ricocheted back to Fester, who caught it in a movement that turned into a somersault, placing her back on top of the ball’s surface. Gepetto went skidding across the dirt floor, kicking up a cloud of dust. He closed his eyes against the spinning world, and pushed himself back to his feet, launching into a sprint towards Dalmatian on the knife-throwing wheel. Fester Jester kicked the ball towards him again, but this time he dived, dodging the blow.
“Stop it!” Fester screeched, moving to the right to catch the ball on its rebound. She steamrolled into Gepetto’s path, stopping him from moving any further. “I’m in charge here. Sit down or I’ll make you!” Gepetto’s eyes darted from Dalmatian and Luna to Fester. He knew a solution, but he couldn’t resort to it. It was against his personal code. He had to find another way.
Thinking quickly, Gepetto interlaced his fingers and slammed them into the side of Fester’s ankles, sweeping them out from under her. She cried out as she bounced off the ball and hit the floor. Gepetto kicked the ball out of the way and Fester growled, climbing back to her feet. Her makeup was smeared with dirt as she lunged, tackling Gepetto and bringing him down with her. He beat at the hands clawing into his chest, his throat, strangling anything they could reach. Fester’s eyes were clouded over, her face splitting in two to accommodate twice the normal number of teeth, and the shriek that bellowed from her mouth was like several voices all howling at once. Gepetto screwed his eyes shut against the cacophony, trying and failing to knock away the hand that clenched around his throat.
“You’re not a fighter, Gepetto.” Fester Jester told him, the skin rotting against her skull as he watched. “You never have been. I have the fighters locked away in cages, and you’re not letting them out!” Gepetto gritted his teeth, his eyes glancing wildly towards his friends. They were going to be stuck here forever, forced to perform tricks for other people’s entertainment. He was going to lose his closest friends in the world if he didn’t do something.
With a snarl, Gepetto slammed his forehead into Fester’s. She fell back with a yelp, the twisted visage of her corpse vanishing as she clutched her head. Gepetto rose to his feet, every movement slow and deliberate. His gaze was fixed on her, his lips pulled into a thin frown. His last resort went against everything he stood for, everything he was, but Fester Jester was hurting. His. Friends.
An exception was called for.
Gepetto raised his hands, hovering in the air at his chest. Fester’s entire body went stiff, palms stuck to her injured forehead. With a flick of a finger, her arm reached up, up, stretching far above her head.
“What?” Fester twitched, a visible attempt at resistance against what had taken hold of her, but Gepetto couldn’t be shaken off. “What are you-” Gepetto splayed his palms, and Fester sat bolt-upright, both hands held aloft. Gepetto’s focus bore into her as he stalked forward, every step slow and intent. Fester’s eyes were wide, drowning in a mix of confusion, anger and horror as Gepetto approached. “S-stop! Stop it!” She was pushed backwards by her own spine curling, catching herself by the elbow at an odd angle. Still Gepetto’s expression didn’t change, ignoring her startled cries as her own body dropped her onto her back and pinned her there. He side-stepped Fester, keeping a hand extended towards her as he walked to the spinning knife-throw wheel. He spun it back upright, and tapped Dalmatian’s cheek. Dalmatian’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Gepetto as he unbuckled Dalmatian from the wheel.
“Gep…?” He groaned. Once one wrist was free, Dalmatian helped remove the others, despite his groggy return to consciousness. Gepetto hooked an arm around Dalmatian’s back to help him down, his brow creasing softly. Beneath his regular mask, Dalmatian’s eyes followed the length of Gepetto’s arm, and they widened slightly when they saw Fester Jester. “Oh, Gigi…”
“It’s fine.” Gepetto assured him.
“But-”
“It’s fine.” He insisted, ignoring the dismay in Dalmatian’s voice, “Help Luna.” Dalmatian looked over his shoulder, and the prepared-for-action stance that Gepetto was familiar with returned to his friend. Dalmatian looked back to Gepetto, scanning over him quickly, and he wrapped a hand around the back of Gepetto’s head.
“You’re hurt.” Was the only explanation he gave, the only explanation Gepetto needed. A soft gold glow emanated from Dalmatian’s hand, and Gepetto could feel the wound healing over. Dalmatian hurried towards Luna’s cage, Gepetto following shortly behind. Fester Jester was still squirming, grunting and hissing her discomfort at being held. Gepetto reminded himself not to look, not to listen, just keep that hand outstretched until everyone was safe. Dalmatian unlocked the cage (the key was still sitting in the lock - Fester must not have thought anyone but herself would have access to it) and threw open the door. Without Fester Jester’s instructions, Luna stood there half-crouched, vacant and unresponsive. Doctor Dalmatian carefully removed the mask from her face, dropping it to the dirt only to crush it under his boot. Lady Luna blinked, the dazed look receding from her eyes.
“What happened?” She questioned. She looked between the two of them, stepping out of the cage. “Are you two alright?” Dalmatian assured her that he was fine at the same time Gepetto nodded. She also followed Gepetto’s arm, and her wolf-like ears dipped low. “Are you alright, Gigi?” She repeated the question. Gepetto didn’t meet her eye. He nodded again. Luna, bless her heart, believed him.
“You keep holding and Luna and I will restrain her, okay?” Dalmatian instructed, and put a hand on Luna’s arm, half guiding and half pulling her towards Fester Jester. Gepetto stayed put, keeping his hand up, keeping Fester in place. His heart was still beating out of his chest, but it was partially soothed knowing that he had rescued Luna and Dalmatian.
Characters: The Boogie Man, Crono Sector, Fester Jester
Prompt list: Found here
Baklava - Another dish I haven’t tried, but could love or hate, from the sounds of the ingredients. Because of where I first heard of this dessert, I often connect it with fun but parental energy.
The exterior of the museum was swarming with security guards and police. He tightened the collar of his shirt, ensuring both that he looked professional and that the layer of clothing underneath was hidden. The Boogie Man approached the museum’s main doors, keeping his gaze forward, stride quick and purposeful as if he had every right to be here. A security guard stopped him at the door, holding up a hand. She was wearing a blue polo shirt, a logo and the words ‘Cronos Security’ emblazoned on the left side of the chest.
“I’m part of the cleanup crew. I have to assess the damages before I get the rest of the team in here.” His tone unbothered, but keen to get to work, flicking the ID clipped to his jumpsuit pocket. With a little help from Boogie’s particular kind of invisibility, the security guard checked her radio, her attention diverting from him as she nodded and waved him inside. Boogie smiled and entered the museum.
On a first assessment, there really wasn’t much for that Mayor Fatcat to worry about. The impact on his precious museum and its exhibits was minimal. A lot of money had gone into making this city seem cultured, and that was proved by the stone and metal architecture that barely had a scratch on it. Boogie tucked his hands in his pockets, looking around as he wandered further into the museum. There were people in here, too, a brief scattering of top personnel to respond to a supervillain break-in. Boogie Man doubted any of them would have noticed him even if he weren’t pumping dismissive vibes into their psyches.
Many theories had been posited since Boogie Man’s debut on the villain scene as to what his superpower was, if he had one at all. His eccentric manner of speaking and dress tended to throw people off. Some guessed light manipulation, some guessed mind control, some even went way outside the box and thought he might have some kind of influence over luck itself, tilting the scales in his own favour. The truth was far less flashy. Boogie Man could become invisible - a counter-intuitive power for a man who embodied a disco ball, but it wasn’t the typical kind of invisibility. The typical kind relied on becoming unseen by the eyes, but Boogie’s relied on becoming unseen by the mind. This ability for his presence to be dismissed or explained away, more of a psychological invisibility, wasn’t what he would have chosen for himself, but it was useful for getting in and out of places unseen.
Someone new stepped into Boogie Man’s path, wearing the same blue polo shirt underneath a thick coat. Boogie wasn’t a short guy, but he still had to look up to meet the newcomer’s eye.
“Excuse me.” He was frowning, feet firmly planted. The tag on his shirt read ‘Hodgkins’. “Access here has been restricted.” Boogie didn’t say anything at first. He let the professionalism slip just enough, so only the man in front of him could see him waggle his eyebrows. He saw a familiar steel in Hodgkins’ eyes, and he resisted the urge to laugh.
“I’m here to assess damages.” Boogie stated. He switched off his power as he spoke, becoming just as noticeable as any other Joe Shmoe. Hodgkins nodded, and he stepped aside, leading Boogie down another corridor while telling his employees that he had this matter handled. Boogie Man let himself be led, Hodgkins sticking closely by his side. Once they had passed through another door, and the other onlookers were far out of range, Boogie grinned.
“You’re living the big life, aren’t you babe?” He remarked. Hodgkins’ jaw clenched, eyes glancing towards Boogie for a second before fixing forward again.
“Stay focused on the task at hand.”
“Come on, we’ve got all the time in the world! You can boiler room with Boogie till the cows come home, babe.” Boogie turned to walk backwards, still keeping stride as he directed the declaration towards his compatriot, “You’re always so focused on the clock, stop and smell the roses! It won’t kill you.” Hodgkins increased his pace, forcing Boogie to nearly jog to keep up with him.
“Prancing around like a prized horse might kill you.” He warned, showing no signs of amusement. Boogie shrugged and turned back around, following Hodgkins into a deeper part of the museum. Ever since they’d first had to interact, Boogie Man had known that ‘Hodgkins’ (although really, Crono Sector) didn’t have much of a sense of humour. But he still enjoyed pushing Crono’s buttons.
Boogie Man and Crono Sector stepped out into a small corner of the museum, housing a limited selection compared to the more packed spectacles near the front entrance. There were several mannequins attached to the floor via metal poles, designed to hold extravagant dresses or coats. The velvet rope that usually separated them from patrons had been tossed aside, and a person was seated by one of the mannequins, their wrist handcuffed to the pole. Their head rested in their other hand, and the black and white scheme of their clown costume matched the bored and glum expression on their face. They looked up at the sound of footsteps and Boogie Man’s chuckle at the sight of them.
“Well well well. Look what we caught.” Boogie Man eyed Fester Jester over before directing his next statement at Crono, “It looks a little shrimpy though, think we should throw it back?”
“Ha, ha. I think you should fire your costume designer.” Fester snapped, gesturing towards Boogie’s jumpsuit. Crono stepped away from the two of them, double-checking the locations of the security cameras. Boogie largely ignored him and let the man work; Boogie Man’s power only worked on people, not machines. He leaned over and flicked one of the pom poms on Fester’s hat.
“What would you try to filch from a museum? Pagliacci’s pantaloons?” His tone had been light-hearted with Crono, but it was genuinely mocking towards Fester Jester. He rarely got along with them, and vice versa, unless it was for work.
“I wasn’t stealing for me!” Fester hissed back.
“Enough.” Crono returned to the two of them, having successfully turned off the nearby cameras, “I’m not going to babysit every time the two of you are in a room together. Grow up.” Fester scowled, the expression not unlike a pout.
“It’s only gagging, babe. You know how us show ponies love a bit of fratricide.” Boogie Man smiled, attempting to brush away Crono’s concerns. He kept that overly-polite smile on his face as he walked over and hooked a hand under Fester’s arm, hoisting them to their feet. Their own hand was still held down by the cuffs, and they straightened their costume before tugging at the cuffs.
“What about this?” Fester questioned. Boogie considered what the best course of action would be. He patted down his pockets, disappointed that he didn’t have a pick on him. His gaze flicked up as Crono approached Fester, and Boogie backed up to give him operating space.
“Arm straight.” Crono instructed. Fester locked their arm, pushing themself back another step.
They and Boogie watched as Crono rolled up the sleeve of his coat, revealing a bracer attached around his forearm. With a flick of his wrist, a blade extended from the bracer, about half a metre long and shaped like the hand of a clock. With practised precision, Crono raised his arm and sliced through Fester’s wrist. Boogie stared as the hand hit the floor with a soft thump, dark and viscous blood seeping from the wound. Fester examined their sliced arm with the same casual regard as a chipped fingernail, and shook the handcuff off. Crono examined the blade on his wrist, wiping it clean on his other sleeve with a scowl of distaste.
“You were sloppy.” Crono told them. He sheathed the blade once more, and rolled his sleeve back down as he jerked his head towards Boogie. “Grab it.” Boogie Man shrugged and retrieved the hand, wiggling a few of the fingers out of curiosity before shoving the whole thing into his pocket. Crono checked his watch, one of several he wore on his person. “Time to leave. Now.” He didn’t wait for a response as he started to walk back in the direction he and Boogie had entered through. The other two followed shortly after. Boogie Man stayed behind Fester Jester, the formation not only giving more cover, but giving the impression that they were escorting Fester out to be properly detained, if anyone did poke their noses in.
“Which exit?”
“Side.” Crono stated, taking a turn away from the path that led to the front entrance. Boogie watched the back of his head as Crono glanced over his shoulder, every movement alert and watching their surroundings. “We may need cover.”
“Got it.” Boogie nodded. He sped up his stride so he was closer to the other two, keeping them within the bubble of his invisibility. To his amazement, even Fester allowed the other members of the group to take the lead, staying hunched between them so she couldn’t be seen. Despite there being no smile on her face, there was a light skip to her step.
The side door had none of the flash of the front entrance, just an impressive looking lock. Crono produced a key from his person, making short work of it and holding the door open. Fester passed through first, with Boogie striding through afterwards. Cronos Security was used by virtually every important business in the city, including the museum. The company’s owner, Brett Hodgkins, had access to the keys and passwords for everything under his company’s protection. Which meant Crono Sector also had that access.
Boogie took a deep breath of the evening air. He looked around, pleased to see no-one had seen them yet. Fester, despite going first, had barely passed the threshold, currently craning her neck to see the large crowd she had gathered.
“Move it.” Crono growled from where he was still holding the door open. Fester rolled her eyes but joined Boogie, who hooked an arm around her shoulders and led her further away from the museum. She was tense in his arm, but she didn’t try to fight him. Boogie glanced back over his shoulder as he walked, spotting Crono pull the door closed. He was still on duty as head of security, he had to remain behind. Boogie Man continued heading towards the street, him and the clown he was holding not so much as a blip on anyone’s radar.
A character playlist for Fester Jester, mainly used to put me in the mindset to write for her. Songs included are as follows:
Upside Down Circus by Hollywood TV Music Orchestra // Cirque de Loon by Hollywood TV Music Orchestra // Execution Is Fun! by Tardigrade Inferno // GUM by Jule Vera // Come With Me - Pure Imagination by Karmin // Hypnosis by Tardigrade Inferno // Lovely Host by Tardigrade Inferno // Looking at Me by Sabrina Carpenter // Waltz of the Bone King by Peter Gundry
A couple more Fester Jester/s I made a few months ago and didn’t upload. Local clown not as chipper when outside of tent, still skips down hallways, rides unicycles, and owns chewlery
