Futurama: Elseworld

It's been a couple years since I've attempted at writing fan fiction. I like to think that I've gotten better as a writer, though evidence of my previous fics would prove otherwise. But unless you want to go back and find my fics from 2004-2006 here on PEEL, which I don't recommend, you'll most likely have no way of reading any of my old stories. Here, I'm starting fresh.

I previously had an idea in which Xanfor brilliantly adapted into his story Amuk in Time, though I think it's time that I write one for myself. Now I'm backing myself into a corner since I have a lot of other writing projects and fan fictions that I'm working on so don't expect many updates from me. This is just for fun and for old times sake. I loved writing Futurama fictions, though I certainly wasn't the best. Now that I've berated myself enough I present Elseworld.

Synopsis: Based off of both The Farnsworth Parabox and Bender's Big Score, this story intertwines many multiple universes and characters. Fry wakes up to find that he's in a different universe, taking place five years in the future, where here he does not exist. After nearly getting killed, he must find the Professor to help get him back to his universe and possibly save all universes as each one is deteriorating day by day.

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Old New York, the hallow ruins remained untouched since their destruction several centuries ago. Few lingered in the vapid wreckage, possibly due to the vicious hazmat troopers that stormed through the empty streets or the self made crypt caused by the dangers of a destroyed city. The mangled mess that once was the Empire State Building stood crookedly tall with shattered windows and gaping holes, barely reaching the top of New New York’s ground. Truly, time had forgotten about Old New York, now just an empty void that would forever remain a black spot in Earth’s history. At the moment though, Old New York was not alone, for a small scampering could be heard through the lonely streets. Out of a pile of rubble, an eye stalk popped out scanning back and forth like a periscope.

A small helpless whimper escaped from the rubble, as the creature and his eye stalk emerged, desperately looking back and forth for something. Standing in uniform, agelessly tired, the small Nibblonian muttered miserably, “He has to be around here somewhere.”

Taking but a second to rest, he scampered down, fleeing across the street to search for his missing someone. Quietly he would stop, fully alert of the dangers around Old New York. He feared most of all that troopers would find him, for their sole purpose was to search and destroy. He sniffed the air, assuring himself that the troopers weren’t around, then proceeded onward. Had the little creature been at higher grounds just hours before, he would have seen the sphere of light implode near the subways. He would also know that the urgency in finding his missing companion had only deepened. For while he was safe from the troopers currently, they were all fascinated with the rare scene of light that had just occurred.

...

A dank smell filtered through the subway car. Crashed against rock slide, the subway was isolated from the other subways cars and the nearest station. Here it was the darkest, no one had gone this far into the caverns, though someone had found it quite easily. Lying near under a broken seat, Phillip J. Fry groggily awoke. The tingling smell of decay and rot scorched in his nostrils, he jerked upward only to slam his head against the bottom of the seat. Cowering in pain as he twisted away from the seat, Fry moaned in confused agony momentarily.

“What the…?” He blinked several times, finding himself alone in the empty car, “Where am I?”

He whipped his hands over his face, massaging his forehead that ached in pain. In almost total darkness, he stared down the long car, lazily standing up. Searching almost blindly for any sort of exit, he froze when he heard the militant stomping of hazmat troopers coming his way. Fry’s stomach clenched in fear, though he wasn’t sure why. He huddled behind an L shaped seat, holding his breath as the troopers came closer and closer. Thin beams of light flickered back and forth through the glassless windows, showing Fry exactly where he was. The subway rocked violently as a group of troopers boarded the car as Fry forced himself to grow smaller.

Vicious clanking and tearing rang in his ears while the troopers ruthlessly tore the subway apart in search of him. Fry scuttled away from the seat fearing he might get hurt in the process, though his timid movement alerted the troopers who immediately stormed his way. Lights flashed in his eyes, as only the inhuman silhouettes cornered him.

“Stand up!” One of the anonymous troopers ordered, to which Fry jumped up immediately shooting his arms up in the air, “What’s your name?” the trooper, or possibly a different one, barked.

Fry squeaked, “Fry! Phillip Fry!”

The trooper angrily asked, “What’s your business doing here Mr. Fry?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know how I got here!” Fry felt his entire body shaking from the menacing troopers, only worsening his already confused state.

“Aren’t you aware that it’s illegal to be down here Mr. Fry!?” The trooper shouted, stunning Fry, “We’re going to have to take you down.”

“But we’re already down…aren’t we?” Fry stupidly asked.

“Get him men!” One ordered, as the group raised maliciously armed spiked clubs over their heads. Fry, numb with fear, let out a whine that only caused the troopers to laugh horrifically. As they closed in on him, he found himself leaping through the empty window behind him. The troopers began to pull and swing, trying to assault him before he could escape. Fry let out a terrified scream as he felt the spikes tear and slash at his legs. Falling backwards out of the subway, he saw the troopers begin to rattle the car as they tried to escape to catch him. Rolling on his side to stand back up, a seething pain roared in his leg. One of them nabbed his shin.

Despite the ever growing pain, Fry leapt up and began to run as fast as he could. The troopers sprinted close behind, trying to knock him back down. He ran down the track, searching desperately for an exit, he could only hear the sound of his heart racing. After an agonizing few minutes, he saw a ledge that led to a platform, taking no time but to leap up onto it. Fry let out a painful gasp as his shin throbbed from the impact. Several feet ahead was a stairwell that hopefully would lead Fry to safety. He took no time continuously running as the troopers raged behind him. At the first landing of the stairs, Fry felt one of the troopers clubs hook his foot. The trooper yanked, causing him to fall on the stairs before him.

Turning around to face them Fry helplessly relented, “I haven’t done anything!”

“On our territory Mr. Fry, that really doesn’t matter.” A trooper taunted. He rose his club, preparing to paint the decayed walls pink with brain, as Fry embraced himself for the attack. The trooper was momentarily paused however by one of his cronies utterance of, “Uh..sir…?”

That momentary pause was enough, as a blast shattered the trooper’s hazmat helmet causing him to fall backwards dead. Fry, as well as the other troopers were stunned, when suddenly a shower of laser blasts illuminated the dark stairwell. There were screams that would make Wilhelm proud, as the troopers retreated by either falling dead or in pain. The scent of burning hazmat suits and smoke lingered the stairwell. A stunned Fry eventually looked up the stairs to see who was firing. All he saw was a cute little animal with an even more adorable gun in his tiny arm, smiling exhaustedly at him.

“I never expected you Nibblonians to be so violent.” Fry said after a moment.

The little monster lowered his gun, sighing, “We’re not Fry. It took several years just to develop this one weapon. I was hoping to not use it tonight.”

“Nibbler, where are we?”

“We’re in the ruins of Old New York, though I’m afraid this isn’t the same Old New York.”

Fry elaborated, “But it stinks, there are dead bodies, and monsters trying to kill me, how is it different?”

Nibbler trotted down to his side, examining his wounds. Taking out a tiny band-aid from his pocket, Nibbler placed it over Fry’s bloodied shin. Staring at the little smiling kitty, Fry relaxed.

Nibbler continued, “We have a ways to go Fry. I’ll explain as we go along.”

Fry stood up with Nibbler’s useless help, as he cringed to continue up the flight of stairs. Pondering Fry asked, “So how did you know I was here? Why was I here to begin with anyway?”

“Perhaps it would be best if I started at the beginning Fry.”

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Let me know what you think.