Enter an FNG (Funny New Guy)

In a deserted corridor of the Blue Dwarf . . .
Two maintenance `bots rolled down the corridor, thinking strange
robotic thoughts. They chattered to one another in their own lingo,
blathering about this and that.
They turned a corner and departed, leaving no evidence of their
presence.
Had they stayed, they would have noticed an odd `tinggg' sound
from the ceiling. Then, had they turned their optics upward, they
would have witnessed a six-foot diameter hole irising open in the
ceiling with a `VEEEEET'. They would have marveled at the fact that,
rather than opening into the deck above them, the hole seemed to
stretch off into infinity, its sides a swirling maelstrom.
Then they would have scurried out of the way as a man fell out
of the hole and splatted on the deck face-first. Because of the
man's unorthodox arrival, they probably wouldn't have noticed the
hole closing with a `VOOOOOT'.
The man rolled over onto his back with a groan, then reached up
and pulled the wire-framed glasses off of his face and studied them.
Miraculously, the lenses were only slightly scratched, but the frames
were horribly bent. With a sigh, he straightened them, then put them
back on his nose, which was bleeding substatially. He pulled out a
hankerchief and used it to wipe up the blood, then pinched his nose
until the bleeding stopped. He scrubbed his neatly-trimmed moustache
and Van Dyke beard, hoping that they weren't saturated with blood.
That accomplished, he dusted himself off and staggered to his
feet. Looking around, he shook his head. "Cubie, Cubie, where have
you taken us now?" He looked himself over with increasing dismay.
The suit he wore was made of some highly reflective material, but it
was badly scratched at the joints. He examined the gouges in the
finish on his elbow pads in particular with resigned disgust.
"This probably voids my thirty-day return policy. Blast!"
Finally he pulled a small green device out of his jacket pocket
and flipped the cover. Underneath were two buttons. He tapped the
larger of the two, then took a step back.
A beautiful raven-haired woman materialized in front of him,
wearing a black lace teddy and a see-through robe. She spotted him
and smiled lustily. "Oh, Zacky! Are we alone?"
Zack forced a smile. "Yeah Cubie, but I need to know where
you've taken us. Beats where we just came from, because no one is
trying to shove anything sharp through me, but a little info would be
appreciated."
Cubie pouted. "Always business with you, isn't it?"
Zack laughed. "Hardly. But let's verify our location before we
do anything that might slow our reaction times."
Cubie purred. "All right, Snuggles. But I hope you've been
working out, because I'm gonna . . ." Her expression darkened. "Uh,
oh. I can't link up with the STCP mainframe. I don't know where we
are."
Zack's forced smiled whitened. "Don't you remember what ST-
coordinates you set?"
Cubie's frown deepened. "No. And I don't know why. I –"
Suddenly she glared at him with unconcealed malice, and he
rolled his eyes. "Not again . . ."
Then he was ducking as her foot whipped through the space where
his head had just been. He tried to press the smaller button on the
device, but she kicked it out of his hands and it clattered to the
deck several meters away. He followed it with his eyes, and was
rewarded by a vicious right cross that knocked his glasses even
further away.
Cubie's voice was a feral growl. "I'll kill you, you scum!"
Then she attacked, sending a flurry of fists and feet at Zack.
He was blocking her strikes, but she was quite a bit better at
martial arts than he was, and she was connecting with more than half
her blows. Finally Zack staggered back, pointed behind her and
shouted "Put that camera away! That's my wife you're gawking at!"
Cubie whipped around, blushing and covering her exposed
anatomy. "Oh! I . . ."
The corridor was empty.
Zack was flying through the air, diving for the green device.
He popped the cover and stabbed at the smaller button. Cubie
disappeared a second before she drove a stiletto heel through the
back of his head. He flopped onto his back and studied the ceiling
ducts while he caught his breath. "Whew. Next chance I get, we're
going to marriage counseling!"
Finally, he retrieved his glasses, once again bent but unbroken,
then looked up and down the corridor again. Shrugging, he dug a
scratched and tarnished Susan B. Anthony silver dollar out of his
pocket, flipped it, caught it in his palm, then slapped it on the
back of his hand. He peeked at the coin, then looked to his right.
The gloomy corridor went off into the distance.
Frowning, he flipped the coin again. Two more times he did
this, then he smiled and headed off toward the more well-lit section
of the corridor, whistling as he went.
OOC: Howdy.