# The Saga of Gun Monkey (Chapter 1 Complete 06/06/06)



## Bront (Jun 3, 2006)

Note to the readers:
Due to popular demand, both on and off the boards, I'm going to try to flex my creative muscle and see if I can tell the story of Gun Monkey, a character concept a friend of mine came up with a while ago, and I refined into a playable character.

Since then, DMAC made a picture of Gun Monkey (Thanks again btw), which apparently has become quite popular, and there are several different versions of Gun Monkey out there, but the first version I statted up that DMAC made the picture for was the Gun Monkey that was posted for the Resolutes in Living Supers.  This is not that Gun Monkey, though he's close enough, in that his origin has not changed, only the world in which he lives in (Which is not the Living Supers world).

I guess this isn't your normal story hour, as this isn't an RP session as much as me just writing, but I hope it's enjoyable for everyone to read.  Comments are welcome.

Enjoy,
Bront


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## Bront (Jun 3, 2006)

*Footnotes*

*Appearance:*
Gun Monkey resembles a normal human most when he stands, and walks upright.  He has short brownish black hair over his body, except for parts of his face, hands, and feet that are hairless, where they show his brownish skin.  

He has begun wearing navy blue spandex pants that stop just below his calves and have a hole for his tail, and a navy blue spandex mid-sleeve top.  He has a black belt where he carries any gear he has with him, including his 2 pistols.  The holsters for the pistols are oddly designed, that while holding them secure, allow him to draw the pistols with either his hands or his feet, or even occasionally his tail.

When in disguise, he wears a trench coat with a hat (think the Thing), a white t-shirt, and a pair of jeans with a hole for his tail.  He almost always carries his pistols with him, even when in disguise.







*Notes from the Lab:*
Gun Monkey has prehensile feet, as well as a prehensile tail that he is able to grab onto things with, and keep his balance.  When moving in combat, he often will flip, roll, or hang, and fire with any of his prehensile appendages.  He has no off-hand.

Gun Monkey can swing freely and quickly if the conditions are right for it, such as available swinging line, vines, or even handrails.  He has incredible natural jumping ability enhances by his acrobatic skills.  Combined with his prehensile feet and tail, he is extremely surefooted and can maneuver over obstacles freely and easily.

Gun Monkey has precise vision and hearing, able to use both senses at an extended range, and for targeting.  He also has an uncanny ear for danger that makes him incredibly hard to sneak up on.

Gun Monkey is quick, maneuverable, and hard to pin down.  He is extremely hard to catch off guard, even if snuck up on.  He is good at dodging and rolling with blows.  Gun Monkey is a crack shot with any ranged weapon, with uncanny aim and precision.

Gun Monkey has two custom blaster pistols that he is fully capable of building and repairing.  While they rest in holsters on his hip, they are easily accessible by his legs and tail as well, and are likely to be fired, in tandem, from just about any limb.  The Pistols are reinforced, durable, capable of being used in Melee if needed, and only function for Gun Monkey himself.  The pistols have several different modes of fire, of which Gun Monkey is fully capable of adding more with a little research.

Gun Monkey is excellent at mechanical and electrical repairs, and is gifted with a knack for figuring out the inner workings of such things.


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## Bront (Jun 3, 2006)

*Prologue*

*Journal Entry: Day 1*
	I don’t know how I got here.  I don’t remember anything before waking up.  All I know is my whole body aches, even my tail.  Someone is sliding food in through a portal in the door, but they won’t talk to me or anything.  I found this journal and a pen, so I figure I should write out what I’m thinking.  Were my hands always like this?

*Journal Entry: Day 3*
	They finally let me out.  2 large men brought me into a room, where a voice asked me to do various physical activities in them.  I argued at first, but there didn’t seem to be any harm, and I did feel like I needed to stretch my legs.  I hope I did well, I just wish the ceiling was a bit higher.  The men don’t look quite like me, not enough hair, and their tail is tucked up in front of their legs.  That must be awkward.

*Journal Entry: Day 10*
	I’ve met the woman behind the voice, Dr Elizabeth Strap.  She’s much more pleasant in person.  After my daily exercise, they brought me into a class to teach me electronics and mechanics.  It seemed quite simple, though I was assured that it was quite advanced.  They want to have me in some kind of class every day now.  This should be fun.

*Journal Entry: Day 20*
	I’m writing this with my feet.  It seems I can use them like hands.  I’m learning to deal with my tail better too, seems I can use that like an extra hand if I need to, though I don’t have any fingers.  The pain is finally gone, though I feel like I’m changing somehow.

*Journal Entry: Day 30*
	I took target practice today with some throwing stones.  I missed the bulls-eye once.  Everyone was staring at me, I think I disappointed them.  Later, I was so upset; I ended up throwing the chair in my room.  I’ll have to do better.

*Journal Entry: Day 38*
	Apparently they were happy with my target practice.  They are teaching me how to build this device they call a pistol, and have had me test with a sample.  It’s a strange device, but I’ll probably understand more once I learn how to build my own.  I still haven’t seen anything like me.  I guess they don’t have tails, or at least that’s what Elizabeth tells me.

*Journal Entry: Day 60*
	I’ve mastered this pistol thing.  I even made a few tweaks they appear to be surprised with.  It seems awfully dangerous, and it’s obvious they don’t trust me, sending guards to watch me while I put it together and take it apart.  Beth won’t tell me why I’m here, just that it’s important and for a good cause.

*Journal Entry: Day 61*
	I’m beginning to see and hear better.  I heard some people talking about the other experiments down the hall, a Dr Shue and Dr Wagner, or at least that’s what their nametags said.  But they were so almost at the other end of the hall from the medical exam room.  I’ve gotten pretty good and locating where a sound is coming from.

*Journal Entry: Day 77*
	Apparently, I’m designated number 7.  I think that means there are at least 6 other experiments going on.  I’m beginning to not like what’s going on here.  They’re watching me closer, and I’m seeing less of Beth.  I heard someone call me a monkey in the distance.  I wonder what that is?

*Journal Entry: Day 81*
	They let me watch this thing, they call it TV.  I found some channel where you can discover all kinds of things.  I finally saw what a monkey is, and I do kind of look like one, but I look more like the others I see here at the lab.

*Journal Entry: Day 95*
	I finally got an answer from Beth.  Apparently I’m special, one of a kind.  She admits there are others, but they don’t function like I do.  She seemed proud of me, which was good, but there was a bit of sadness in her eyes.

*Journal Entry: Day 102*
	That guard had it coming.  He shouldn’t have been making fun of me like that.  I don’t know what the big deal is, he’ll wake up with a headache, nothing more.  Beth was mad, and told me to be careful for my own safety.  That didn’t make sense, am I not safe here?

*Journal Entry: Day 110*
	They let me out again.  I guess they figure a week was enough punishment.  Beth keeps on looking at me strangely, and now they’ve started to teach me some geography.  I think I’ll be learning why I’m here very soon.

*Journal Entry: Day 131*
	They finally let me out of the restraints.  Do they think because I’m not human I don’t have feelings?  Why would I want to kill people?  I hope I didn’t hurt anyone too much, particularly Beth, who seemed quite upset as well.  I guess they’ll remember that for a while though.

*Journal Entry: Day 135*
I met the others.  Numbers 1-5 were all monkeys or apes of some kind, but seemed a bit different.  They all could communicate using sign language, and seemed to chatter with each other a lot.  Number 6, who looked like a more upright Gorilla, was a different story. He couldn’t speak, but seemed to understand Beth’s hand movements as well as the others.  She handed him two guns similar to mine, and he followed us along to the target range.  She said I should call him “Gun Monkey”, a nickname he’d been given by some of the guards.  I shrugged and decided not to argue.  He’s a pretty good shot, and seems like a nice fellow.  Shame he can’t talk.

*Journal Entry: Day 145*
	I’ve been on the run for several days now.  It was horrible; I don’t know where to begin.
	Beth came to me late about 4 nights ago.  She said it was time to go.  She handed me my guns, and tried to lead me out.  I got the feeling she didn’t intend to come back, so I told her we should take the others too.  I found number 6, who she quickly armed as well and then lead us to the others.  There was a doctor in the room with number 5, giving him some kind of injection, and number 5 quickly dropped.  In anger, I shot the doctor, not sure what setting, but he didn’t look good.
	Beth, Gun Monkey and I ran, hoping to escape the compound.  The guards came at us quickly, but Gun Monkey and I seemed to work well together.  One of the guards caught us from behind, and shot at me, but he was a poor shot, and hit Beth right in the eye, the tranq dart sunk straight into her head, and she convulsed and collapsed.  I grabbed her badge and went with Gun Monkey, and we quickly got outside the compound through a window.  He hoisted me over the fence, which I cleared with a leap that surprised even me, but before he could jump, the guards tore into him with the mounted turrets.  Cursing them, I ran, and quickly lost any pursuers.  I knew if I had turned, I would have killed them, and there had been enough death.
	I’ve been hiding since.  It seems I’m somewhere in Mexico, and the besides strange looks I get from most of the natives, they don’t speak English.  I’m making a break for the U.S. border; perhaps I can make a life there.

*Journal Entry: Day 150*
	I’m in the US now.  I’ve managed to disguise myself well enough that I can pass for an ugly man, but I can’t get too close.  They say this is the land of opportunity, so let’s see what opportunity they have for a 6’ tall monkey.

*Journal Entry: Day 168*
	I found a place in near Chicago named Grease Monkey’s, and it had a picture of someone like me in coveralls.  I snuck in, but I haven’t found anybody here yet.  It’s late, so I’ll hole up here for the night and see who I can find in the morning.  Maybe I’m not the only one.


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## Bront (Jun 6, 2006)

*Chapter 1*

Robert Raymond entered his shop at his usual time, 6 AM sharp with a box of doughnuts in hand.  He entered the front door and locked it again, and then set the doughnuts down on a side table, and then opened the door to the back before feeling something press against the back of his head.

“Don’t move, and don’t make a sound.  Drop the keys, now,” said a voice from behind.

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble,” Rob said, dropping the keys.  He tries to run his head before the object presses against his head harder.

“I said don’t move.  Don’t look back.  Where’s the Grease Monkey?”

“What you talkin’ ‘bout man?  This is my place.  I’m the mechanic.”

“No, I mean the one on your sign.”

“That?  That’s just a picture.  Look, I don’t know what you’re on man but there’s some money in the safe, take it.”

“I don’t want the money, I want to talk to Grease Monkey,” the voice said.  Out of the corner of Rob’s eye, he spots something like an animated robe grab a doughnut, and then hears a munching sound.

“I told you, it’s just advertising.  A play on words ya know?  Grease Monkey, Mechanic, same thing.  I’m the grease monkey”

Rob felt the object pull back from his head.  “You’re good at disguises then, or did you just shave?”

Rob takes the opportunity to turn around, only to be confronted by Gun Monkey, who’s got a gun in one hand, and a doughnut with a few bites in it in his tail.

“Gah!  What the hell?” he says, backing up against the door.

“So, you’re saying that you don’t really look like that picture and aren’t in disguise?”

“No man, I ain’t seen nothing like you since _Planet of the Apes_.”

“You’ve been to one?  How can I get there?”

“’Course not, it’s a movie man.  What the heck happened to you?”

“Well, I guess that makes sense.  So you’re just a mechanic?  You’re the one who missed the fraying break line on that car in there?”

“Yes, I’m the mechanic and… wait, what?”

“Yeah, and the fuel injector’s timing was a bit off.  I assumed it wasn’t celebrated properly so I fixed it.”

“I just replaced the transmission in that car for my daughter.  How’d you get to know so much about cars?”

“They’re fairly simple.  Anyway, sorry about the hold up thing, I should get moving before it gets too light out.”

“Wait, you got a place to go man?”

And so Gun Monkey and Rob got to talking.  Rob had been looking to hire a new mechanic anyway, and already had a pit setup, so Gun Monkey could work in his pit in return for food, a place to stay, and access to all the tools he could use.  In return, Gun Monkey told Rob a little bit of his story, and told him to call him Gun Monkey.  He never explained more than just that he left the lab on unfriendly terms, but this was enough for Rob.

“Just don’t bring all that stuff down on me, ok?”

“Deal.  Um, you should probably get more doughnuts too. <burp>"

“Great… by the way, it all right if I call you Gus?  I think it will be a bit less jarring to the customers.”


*Journal Entry: Day 169*
I met a man named Rob Raymond.  He’s letting me stay at his shop, get me food, and use his tools for me helping him work on cars.  He seems like a nice guy once he got over me looking different.  I told him my name was Gun Monkey, to honor Number Six.  He said he’d rather call me Gus, which was fine with me.


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