Arc Two : Uranus, The Magician

 
“While an overwhelming majority of Earth nation leadership welcomed Royal Makai’s mission of love with open arms as their Profane Crusade began, it became extremely clear that they had underestimated certain elements of the governments of the Russian Federation, the United States of America, and the Fifth French Republic. By underestimation, I specifically refer to the open executions and covert assassinations of peace-seekers and outspoken sympathizers that chose unconditional surrender to the Demon Lord, at the hands of those that would accept nothing worse than a complete ceasefire. The Kuiper Group was the most strategically ambitious of these shadow-groups, despite their relatively minuscule membership.”


-excerpt from the Mamono Encyclopedia Britannica, First Edition, Chapter Four: The Superpowers of Earth And Their Downfalls
 



(Wollcroft obeys the order, as his two subordinates rush into the room. They quickly scream, and Non hears the sound of two loud thuds onto the left door. He, Wollcroft, and Lance follow in to shoot whomever’s pinning the airmen, only to find a 6-foot & 5-inch-tall blonde human of vaguely Nordic descent, clad in golden armor and with four feathery wings protruding from her back. Her sword sheathed, she had the airmen pinned at their chests using her shield, up against the sculpture of Frederic Remington’s Coming Through The Rye.)

(N.S.A Non) “Eydis, it’s me! Let ‘em go, they aren’t incubi! Everybody just stand down! She’s an alien all right, but she’s on OUR side!”

(She takes the shield off the airmen, they drop to the ground, catching their breath. She grabs the National Security Advisor to give him a crushing bear hug.)

(Eydis) “Non, my friend! You haven’t a clue of how relieved I am to see you! Are you well? Do you feel infected? Did you succeed with the first phase?”

(N.S.A Non) “It’s wonderful to see you too, my dear Valkyrie, but can ya’ let me go? I’m wearing plate armor under my suit and I’m startin’ to lose my breath!”

(She complies, letting him go, carefully placing him back on his feet. At the same time, Secret Service agents run across different parts of the Main Hall, the closer ones quickly acknowledge and salute the National Security Advisor, then continue on their own personal defense strategies. The Main Hall itself resembles a serial killer’s rampage, the floor covered in Mamono corpses of all kinds, the walls and ceiling sprayed with blood. Two of the ceiling lamps had eerie scarlet glows, on account of being covered in said blood. And the Baltimore Sheraton Breakfront Bookshelf was riddled in bullets, nearly all of the platters and cups had shattered.)

(N.S.A Non) “Thanks, sweetheart. Gentlemen, this wonderful lady here is Eydis. She’s a Valkyrie, and the last relevant member of the last organized anti-monster resistance that used to exist on the alien homeworld. Managed to sneak her way into a portal, showed up here a few months back. Now? She’s our trump card at fending off the higher-powers that are running this whole invasion. Without the info she’s given us, I’d hardly have much of a plan to beat the monsters.”

(Eydis) “Oh, dear Advisor, you flatter me. I spent over six years wandering the world you Earthmen know as Kenkou, without purpose. Without a plan. I had completely given up on freeing humankind, or even achieving my revenge upon the Traitor Hero and his broodmare, until I had the stroke of luck that brought me here. It is YOUR intellect, bravery, and planning-skills that will save your world and avenge my comrades and my Goddess! Your Secret Service has been invaluable in assisting me at holding a stern defense of this palace’s center structure, and I take it that you were able to rendezvous with your military forces to cleanse the Eastern Wing? I was beginning to lose hope, beginning to think that you had been mounted and incubized at your Congressional building.”

(N.S.A. Non) “Oh, don’t worry so much about me, I did have some close calls and strokes of luck myself. But, I managed to escape the Capital building through the underground train system with a commendable escort of lawmen. Once we arrived topside onto the streets, we ‘bumped into’ nearly half a’ legion of courageous patriots who had all come on their own accords to reinforce and relieve us! The East Wing is mostly clear, but I've got to get to the West Wing, retrieve the President and any other of my colleagues and superiors! We’ll then be heading back to the East Wing’s basements, where a hardened and well-defensible command center awaits for us to begin the great retaking of the homeland! Now if you want to stay and reinforce this area, feel free, but you know, I’d greatly appreciate it if you came with me! There’s no such thing as ‘too many reinforcements’ after all! And could you lend a healing hand? A traitor in the Theater room had shot me in the arm, only a few minutes ago.”

(Eydis) “Bastard! Most certainly! Show me where the cur has wounded you!”

(Non pulls his arm out of the left side of his suit, wincing in pain. The magical maiden places her hands on his wound, a glowing yellow light from her hands spreads to Non’s entire upper arm. Within three minutes, the light  seals the wound and regenerates the small portion of his arm that had been shot off.)

(Eydis) “There, all better now! It was no issue to fix your arm, only skin and a small amount of muscle had been sheared!” Now to answer your other question, yes! I would most certainly be honored to join your party! It’s been far too long since we last collaborated in battle! Camp David I believe, was the name of our previous e-engagement?”

(N.S.A. Non) “Alrighty then, welcome to the party! But Eydis, is there a reason why you and the others here haven’t checked on the West Wing?”

(Eydis) “Yes, my dearest l-Advisor. About 20 minutes ago, we all heard your President speak over the building’s voice lines, he said that he and a select group of the Secret Service were ‘locking down’ that area to protect his guests until further notice, or until we are relieved of duty! As you are now here, we can get inside, as the door locks are slaved to a code-machine. I assume you know the code to gain us entry?”

(N.S.A Non) “That I do indeed. Lance, Wollcroft, get me Colonel Andreas on the line. I’ve got to give her some orders before we proceed.”

(Wollcroft tests his radio for the Colonel to respond, once she does, he informs her that N.S.A. Non needs to discuss operational plans, then hands the radio over to Non.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Colonel Andreas, great to hear from you again. I’ve arrived at Whiskey Hotel’s main center. The Secret Service have it reinforced, but they were undergoing radio silence, it would seem. Have you figured out where the East Wing distress beacon was coming from? We’re about to enter the West Wing to grab our VIPs. I’ve been informed that they were all moved over there, before POTUS locked that sector down. I’ve got the access code to enter, but I need to know about the situation on your end first.”

(Andreas) “Current situation is Shit-Hot, sir! We’ve found the distress beacon, it was legit, but the White House kitchen staff had been turned, tried to use it to lure us into a trap. Thank God Almighty that we saw that coming, because if we hadn’t, we’d all be in a mutant orgy by now. My Marines tossed a few ‘nades into the room, traitors are all deep-sixed. We also found what we think is the Secret Service’s problem. There’s a radio jammer in the First Lady’s office, no sign of her. Stands to guess that there’s another active one somewhere in the West Wing. These mothafuka’s are huge! Must’ve gotten their bigger bitches to haul these! It’ll be a few more minutes before we can unfuck the jamming, seems they’re specifically set to block whatever encrypted frequencies the Secret Service use for comms. The traitors we iced at the Treasury HQ must’ve given them those frequencies. Landlines are all cut too, the old-fashioned way! Have you tried calling POTUS on your cell phone?”

(N.S.A. Non) “Tried that back on the Metro line, along with trying the rest of the Cabinet. No answers from any of them. West Wing’s jammer must be a short-range one that also fucks with cell signals! I’ll check it out when I get there, and I’ll send out a runner to grab your SIGINT folks if it blocks radio frequencies too. Outstanding job, Colonel! Consider yourself promoted to Brigadier General! Grab a general’s dress cap and upgrade your pins if you can find any! Once I rescue the VIPs, I’ll send a runner to escort you and Sergeant Major Wheeling to the EOC!”

(Andreas) “Affirmative, don’t you worry your pretty little head, sir! We’ve got this under control, And by the restless spirit of John Paul Jones, we will NOT fail you all, the way we failed Madison and Jackson back in 1812! GENERAL Andreas, out!”

(Eydis) “Pretty little head? Advisor, you wouldn’t happen to be one of those men who give out professional rewards to any woman who so much as flutters her eyes at you?”

(N.S.A Non) “Relax, Valkyrie. She’s married, saw a ring on her finger. You KNOW I don’t do adultery. She’s gotta be 20 years older than me too. Now I like a woman with a bit of age on me, but past 45? Noooooooo, thank you.”

(Eydis) “Oh my, have you already forgotten that I only appear to be a fair maiden of 25 years?”

(N.S.A. Non) “Oh, come on! That doesn’t apply to you, little Miss ‘I don’t need makeup or spells to look 25 when I’m really 85’.”

(Eydis teasingly lifts Non up by the collar, getting right up in his face. It’s not lost on Non that she reeks of perfume.) “Little, you say?”

(N.S.A Non) “Okay, okay, Big Miss.”

(Eydis) “And don’t you forget it.”

(She lets him down, again.)

(Lance) “Okay you two, get a room, but not right now! Mister Non, by all means, say the magic words and open up the West Wing. And if I see Martin Sheen in there, I’m opening fire, just sayin’.”

(N.S.A. Non) “You got it, Terminal Lance.”

(Lance) “Aw, screw you too.”

(The group makes their way over to the door, trying not to get fresh blood on their shoes. Lance nearly trips over a dead Demon that had been decapitated by Eydis. They walk by the painting of Laura Bush, unblemished, save for two white X’s painted over her eyes. Under that painting stood a white-paint message saying, “YORE HUSBAND TOOK MY LEGS.” The painting of Hillary Clinton on the opposite side, is soaked in an unfortunate Alraune’s chlorophyll. The Alraune herself was clearly a US Army veteran. On her tattered dress uniform still lay two veteran medals, one of the Global War on Terror Expedition, and the other of Operation Enduring Freedom.)

(Non takes a few seconds to remember the password. He then puts in the phrase ‘OPENTHISSHITTYDOORYOUASSHOLE2021.’ The computer confirms that the phrase passes, then requests fingerprints to proceed. Non does so, once again the computer confirms his identity, as the locks on the door disengage.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Hey, Eydis. Why didn’t you lock the East Wing entrance? I could’ve been the Ultimate Hero for all you knew.”

(Eydis) “Advisor, I am more than capable of sensing all forms of demonic energy and mana, from decades of training. Your mana is clean, whereas the Ultimate Traitor is in the most literal sense, the second-most absolute filthiest conduit of demonic energy in existence, after his wife. I can sense his energy for as far as what I’ve calculated to be around two-hundred and fifty of what your world calls a ‘nautical mile.’ He is here, dearest Advisor. Here in this city, somewhere to the southwest. He is quite close, and I do not understand why he has not arrived to eliminate you and I, the only significant threats to his power on this half of Earth. I do not know if I can defeat him in a fight. I also do not know the exact details of how my Goddess was slain, but I do know that she died in open battle, and it is quite possible that her worthless spawn had murdered her entirely on his own power, skill, and volition.”

(Wollcroft) “And this man’s the husband and top commander of the alien leader, right? Back at Andrews, I overheard some officers that got mutated. They were swearing allegiance to The Demon Lord, talking about how they’d do anything to find a husband for themselves. I was lucky to be in a security room, overhearing the whole thing over a hot-mic’d intercom. Question though. If the Demon Lord is a woman, shouldn’t she be called The Demon Lady or Lordess?”

(Eydis takes a good look at Wollcroft’s velcro name patch)

(Eydis) “Reasonable observations, Mister…. Wollcroft? Apologies for not recognizing your rank, as you can understand. And further apologies for whatever suffering that you and your allies have gone through, on your journey to this palace. I still blame myself and my fellow Valkyries for the fall of the resistance that Mister Non spoke of. The Order may have still been able to turn the tide had I, and the remnants of my sisterhood, ignored our Goddess’s orders to stay out of the battle that took her life.”

(Wollcroft) “I don’t blame you for all this, ma’am. No one here can fairly blame you, for obeying orders that only turned out to be bad ones in hindsight.”

(Eydis) “Your kind words mean far more to me than you would think. But to answer your observations. To the first question, the answer is yes. The man once called The Ultimate Hero, is the husband and highest commander of The Demon Lord, the most powerful succubus that has ever lived. So powerful that my predecessors found it sensible to invent an entirely new word to describe succubi on her level of power. They are the Lilim, composed of the Demon Lord and the many daughters that she has sired with the man I name The Ultimate Traitor. What went wrong with him? He was the most revered man in The Order, higher than the Pope, second only to the Chief God! He wanted for nothing, had the love and adoration of every sane human in the world! And he threw it all away. He wasn’t brainwashed or tricked, as many coping clergy had believed to the last breath before their own demonic transformations. He betrayed us, all on his own free will, his own choice to put us all to the Demon Silver swords of Royal Makai. Now as to why a male phrase such as ‘Lord’ is used in lieu of a female one? It is a cultural difference. In my world, Lady is a title meant for the politically-powerless wife of a Lord. Lord is a genderless term used to describe an individual of high political power, of either of the two genders. The husband of a female Lord is referred to as a “Sir,” or by any other title that the man has earned or inherited. ‘Lordess,’ is not a real word in either of our worlds, Mister Wollcroft.”

(Non puts his right hand on Eydis’s left shoulder.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Be careful, Eydis. We might find out the answers to your own questions sooner than we can hope for. Now that that’s cleared up, let’s find that jammer and find our VIPs.”

(They walk into the Palm Room, where another monsterized Secret Service member lies in wait. The Alraune is too busy lying in a mound of lawn-dirt in the middle of the room, reading the latest issue of Better Homes & Gardens. Before she can finish putting down her magazine to alert her compatriots via radio, she sees Eydis. The ex-human freezes in her now purely-metaphorical feet. In those two seconds of hesitation, Non draws his Colt, shooting the Alraune right between her eyes. The lone bullet exits the back of her skull, smashing through a glass portion of the door-exit to the West Colonnade.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Oh, no. I was already crossing my fingers that we’d be able to cross the open-air West Colonnade without being spotted, but they definitely heard that glass break. Let’s pick up the pace, we might be ambushed from the windows!”

(Eydis) “Leave the slaughtering to me for now, Advisor. You men must save your bullets for when I am not around to assist, and my sword and shield are much quieter than your firearms.”

(N.S.A Non) “Affirmative, you heard the lady, gentlemen. I’m going to open the door, and on the quiet count of three, we’re going to sprint to the door on the other side. Eydis, take point. You’re certainly faster than us anyways. Now we could just go around and take the normal entrance, but then we could be targeted by snipers. Eydis has had experience with fighting Cupid-looking aliens that’ve upgraded their bows and arrows for long-range firearms and crossbows. I think those Abrams blasted a few of them, definitely heard some bullets bounce off of them. West Colonnade’s got the advantage that all the trees block anyone not on ground level from seeing us. After that, we’ll definitely have to shoot our way through to the Oval Office, then my office. ”

(Non opens the door, then counts down to three. The six-person team makes their mad dash. Eydis could have easily used her wings to fly to the door, but chooses instead to keep up a slightly faster pace than the others to save energy. They arrive at the West Wing’s northwestern entrance, seemingly unseen.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Alright everyone, good job. I don’t think we’ve tripped up any alarms. But just in case, Eydis, deploy your shield and get in front. Remember that film I showed you at Camp David? The part of Captain America, when he smashed into a room, using his shield to keep his allies covered as they shoot the building’s defenders? Let’s try that strategy, just in case.”

(Eydis) “I am more than capable of creating a simple magic barrier for us all. However, your plan has merit, and will cost less mana for me. Very well, I will stay in front. I advise that Mister Wollcroft and his men get behind me. I shall lower myself slightly, to allow space for you all to open fire. Mister…. Lance, open the door, if you would be so brave?”

(Lance) “I’ll do it, but if I get shot, you’d best patch me up as well as you did for Mister National Security here.”

(Eydis nods in approval. Lance Corporal Lance opens the door from an outwards angle, making sure to stay out of the way of the door. To no one’s surprise at this point, nine monsterized White House staff members & Secret Service agents open up a barrage of gunfire. Enough of their Earth culture and training resides in their heads to decide that Non and his entourage are too dangerous to be left alive. Around the next corner, a vampire named Lucinda lay in wait with a M320 grenade launcher, found in the trunk of a DEA Lincoln Continental that had been parked at the West Wing’s tourist entrance. As the Vice-President’s Chief of Staff and now monster-wife, she had known that Non and Eydis were coming from watching the security cameras in the Palm Room.)

(Normally, a 40mm grenade would be no more dangerous to Eydis than a .177 caliber pellet would be to a U-Haul truck, but Lucinda’s grenade were lined with demonic silver, and stuffed with a surprise for the patriots and the Valkyrie.)

(N.S.A Non) “Oh geez, oh gross. This is just plain sad. I almost slipped on a chunk of brains. Who the hell is this monkey-freak? Oh MY GOD, IT’S PRESS SECRETARY EUNICE. Oh, I thought she was cool! Ohhhhh, those Kenkouans are going to pay for this, they’ll rue the day, they’ll pay and pay and pay and PAY! Let’s turn this stupid corner, but stay frosty! ‘Freyja’, that means keep your weapons out, and stay ready for attack.”

(Eydis) “As you command. We are now in your ‘home court advantage’ if I read those strategy books right.”

(N.S.A Non) “You read correctly. Hey, it’s Lucinda! AY LUCINDA, YOU AND THE VEEP ALL RIGHT?”

(Lucinda) “Oh, Vincent and I and just fine, buddy! You know, today’s your lucky day after all! Once we show the fifth member of ABBA how great it is to give yourself fully to love and lust, we won’t need to toss you in the funny farm after all!”

(N.S.A Non) “SHE’S TURNED! GET BACK TO THE DOOR, SHE’S GOT A GRENADE LAUNCHER!”

(Eydis quickly puts up a magic shield to cover the hallway. Lucinda opens fire, the demon silver fails to penetrate the shield, but the round explodes into aerosolized prisoner fruit. Eydis gets hit. Immediately recognizing the fruit’s effects, she smashes her way out the right-side stairway door. Non stopped to gawk, so he was also doused in the fruit. As his erection goes full-mast within seconds, he takes his pants off from the sweltering swamp heat. Now in the visual presence of the fatally-attractive Lucinda, along with memories of good long looks at Eydis’s armor gaps, his penis begins leaking Cowper's fluid right then and there. He dives into the West Wing Cabinet Room, quickly shutting the door, using the last brain-blips of clarity to keep said door shut with a chair.)

(Trying to get up with his pants pulled down his legs, he trips again, now leaning onto the wall. Now past the point of no return, Non loses his cool, proceeding to loudly and lewdly masturbate while moaning Eydis’s name, yelling sweet nothings that no one but himself hears, on account of the soundproofed walls. To his horror, he only lasts 34 seconds before the first blast of sperm erupts. His last few brain cells that aren’t focused on the bewilderment of how much semen he’s painting the table and floors with, soon notice that he’s also been moaning the name of the Abominable Snow-woman that he torched in Arlington. It becomes his salvation, as by his third orgasm, the subconscious disgust of masturbating to a dead woman overpowers the effects of the prisoner fruit spray. As he tries to re-collect his mind, Non notices that the Cabinet Room table had cups of water for every chair. Utterly dehydrated from the nerve-wracking events that have taken place since the invasion began, he puts his boxers and pants back up, chugs through 5 cups of water, no longer caring if the cups were booby traps, laced with quaaludes, viagra, or anything else that could affect his sex drive. Three minutes and several gunshots noises from outside later, Lance and the others bust in from the windows.)

(Lance) “Mister Non, you’re alright! Saw your Valkyrie girlfriend crash into the Blair House. Was it something to do with the pink mist in that grenade? Oh, what the fuck? Dude, you just blasted, like, half a human’s body water content of jizz all over there!? That’s fucking nasty!”

(N.S.A. Non) “Brilliant observation, asshole, just brilliant! In case the gears haven’t clicked yet, she’s not my girlfriend, and that pink mist is an aerosol version of an alien fruit. They call it ‘prisoner fruit.’ It’s basically viagra, cocaine, crystal meth, and 4000 milligram doses of L-Arginine and zinc rolled up in one! Makes you ultra-omega-super horny, and it’s got magic shit that’ll make you literally cum buckets WITHOUT killing you from dehydration! The Secretary of Agriculture is either full of shit, or he’s compromised. Last month, I took a vaccine for prisoner fruit effects, didn’t work, definitely fake!”

(Wollcroft) “So there’s no cure for that?”

(N.S.A Non) “None whatsoever! Once it’s got you, all you can do is to find an alone-spot and crank it all out of your system. Or it fulfills its original purpose, to make you run out to meet ‘n fuck a monster woman!”

(Before Non can think of anything else to say, a pounding noise on the Cabinet Room door grabs the attention of everyone in the room. Non, taking long strides to avoid the puddles of his own seed, dripping off the table and walls, puts his ear on the door.)

(N.S.A Non) “Uhhhh, who is it?”

(Lucinda) “NOOOONNNNN, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE. COME OUT SO I CAN TAKE YOU TO YOUR ACCOMPLICE. I KNOW YOU’VE GOT PRISONER FRUIT PUMPING THROUGH YOUR BODY. JOIN USSSS, GIVE IN TO YOUR PRIMAL NEEDS. TAKE YOUR ANGEL-WOMAN, BECOME THE BEAST WITH TWO BACKS! GIVE IN AND TAKE HER LIKE I TOOK MY MAN, WITHOUT SHAME, WITHOUT FEAR OF THE STIGMA OF BEING JUST A MISTRESS OR A GIGOLO.”

(Non speaks firmly, but quietly, to the others in the room.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Dammit! She bagged the Vice-President! Another VIP write-off!”

(Lance) “How‘dya know that?”

(N.S.A Non) “Long story, White House drama! The Veep’s marriage isn’t working out, but they’re sticking together so a moral scandal won’t ruin his chances at running for Governor of New Mexico! His wife’s fuckin’ some retired Chicago brain surgeon. The VP’s been banging his Chief of Staff, who happens to be the vampire right on the other side of this door! And before you ask why I care so much, I normally wouldn’t, but YOU try concentrating when your office is next door, you and your boss have left both of your doors open, and his Chief of Staff deepthroats with the decibel range of a pressure washer!”

(As the others nod and cringe-groan in understanding, Lucinda gives up on waiting, deciding to use her newfound strength to break the door down. Aware that even with Mamono strength, it would take some time as the door and it’s hinges were remade to be bomb-proof during Lyndon Johnson’s administration. Bit by bit, she winds up her punches to break the hinges, then poke her grenade launcher through a crack to physically neutralize the armed men in the Cabinet Room. Too high off her own newfound powers, it doesn’t occur to her to just go around and fire through the windows.)

(Lucinda) “Can’t hide in there forever, my darlins’! Your angel’ll have gone to ‘two in her pink and two in her stink’, by the time I open this here door!”

(N.S.A. Non) “Ready your weapons, folks! Once she creaks the door open, blast her hand off! I’ll open the rest of the door, then you guys’ll shred her to bits! Anyone got a knife? Take off one of the chair legs in here, sharpen that leg! Dunno if Bram Stoker was bullshitting or not, but wooden-staking her couldn’t hurt to try!”

(After nearly five minutes of pounding, Lucinda manages to break one of the three door hinges. Wollcroft manages to turn a detachable chair leg into a stake, but it turns out to be unnecessary. Another five minutes later, Lucinda nearly manages to get another hinge broken off, only to receive a tapping on her back. She turns around, expecting to greet reinforcements, only to be impaled through the sternum by the business end of Eydis’s enchanted sword. As the sword goes through Lucinda, it pokes out her back with enough force to penetrate the door behind her, nearly stabbing Non in the left arm. He yelps in panic and recoils from the door. As Lucinda dissolves into dust as vampires do upon mortal expiration, Eydis takes a second of deep thought to mentally register Non’s scream.)

(Eydis) “Oh no, no, no! Advisor, are you hurt!?”

(Non) “Not at all, just spooked! Thanks for the save, I’m opening the door now!”

(Non opens the door, as the others keep their guns pointed towards Eydis, in the off-chance that this was a trick. Upon realizing that this isn’t, Lance pokes into the hallway to retrieve the weapon of the now-deceased Vice-Presidential Chief of Staff. As Eydis enters, she can’t help but notice the thick syrupy white elephant in the room.)

(Eydis) “Disgusting! Fret not, Advisor, that was quite a lot of prisoner fruit spray that we absorbed. As brave and brilliant as you are, you’re still only an unenchanted man. It only affected me for hardly a minute, but that diplomatic guest house was swarmed with Mamono. I must have killed nearly thirty before I returned to you.”

(Wollcroft) “Outstanding work, ma’am. Now that we’re all here, let’s locate and retrieve the rest of the VIPs.”

(N.S.A Non) “We’ll start with POTUS. Oval Office is only two rooms away, but stay alert.”

(They enter the President’s secretary’s office, to find it utterly empty, the windows closed. The secretary had managed to activate the blast shields before leaving the room. To the left of her desk, the President’s closet was also devoid of life. With a brief respite, the group takes seats, as Eydis speaks her mind regarding something that had occurred to her, as she had been slaughtering her way back to Non.)

(Eydis) “Non, something had occurred to me just recently. Your nation has a multitude of forts, lairs, and high-flying communication-vehicles, many of which are still hidden from the Mamono. From any of these locations, you could activate the American nuclear arsenal. There is truly no need to take such a risk as coming to this palace, where the forces of Royal Makai have precisely anticipated that you would arrive, and have clearly set up traps to ensnare you or any of your allies. So why continue? Why fight on? Why have you not escaped this doomed city by automobile, aeroplane, or helicopter?”

(N.S.A Non) “You know, that is a completely fair question. I do have an answer though. It’s about loyalty and guilt. As much as I hate some of the Cabinet, I can confidently call a good portion of them as my friends. For security’s sake, I’ve ensured that no one, but you and I, have the entire details of the final phase. I’ve kept important secrets, withheld critical information, and lied to my friends. The least I can do is to rescue them and take them to safety in America’s darkest hour. As for the rest of you, I can’t afford to tell you the exact details either, but I can afford to say that I don’t actually need the Cabinet to authenticate the codes that we need to start a nuclear strike. Long story short, I found a way around it, and I can authenticate a code and turn one of the three keys myself. I only need two VIPs to stay unmonsterized, at least until they can get their codes in. There’s a secret list of other people that I’ve given emergency clearance, and that list only exists inside the heads of me and “Freyja’ here. Never wrote or typed it down anywhere, no paper trail, highly unlikely that every single known or secret VIP will be turned by the time I reach a computer that can start the launchings.”

(Lance) “Need-to-know-basis. I’d expect this from the White House, but holy shit, you’ve gone above and beyond to restrict information about your counterattack plans. But what happens if YOU get compromised? No offense to the lady, but I don’t think she can pass the scanners and passwords.”

(Eydis) “No offense taken, your point flows true. If a horrible mistake were to be made, and our dear Advisor were to be incubized, I am to slay him, then locate the closest qualified individual with pure mana. Once locating this trustworthy human, I am to explain to them what the phases of the Advisor’s plan was, and to help them continue from where he left off.”

(N.S.A Non) “As terrifying as it sounds, I came up with this backup plan. If I’m compromised, then I’ve been turned into an incubus. I won’t be the same man I am right now, so by all means. Kill me if it comes to that. I’ve already accepted my fate and mortality, but I won’t allow myself to let our country die, that is a DIRECT order.”

(The military members of Non’s ‘adventuring party’ salute him, then acknowledge the order.)

(N.S.A Non) “Well we’ve had our rest. You all get in the closet. I’ll greet the President, and if the Oval Office is compromised, I’ll yell.”

(The group follows his order, as Non presses a button under the secretary's desk. As per White House security measures, measures that Non had meddled in five months earlier, his right ring finger’s print is acknowledged by the button, unlocking the door. Non walks to the door, very slowly opening it, his pistol drawn. Managing a half-head size opening, he peeks into the room, to find out that all hope in the head of the Executive Branch is lost.)
 
(The President stands in the center of the Great Seal carpet, fully nude and moaning out two names. A Demon wearing a dark scarlet-red Chanel suit, white gloves, and a black pillbox hat is loudly performing fellatio on the President, as a Honey Bee tongue-punches his prostate. At the same time, the POTUS is eating out and anal-fingering a Kikimora that has splayed herself out across the glass table between the two Oval Office couches. A younger man is also in the room, rapidly pounding his member into a Moth-woman as they both lay on top of the President’s desk. Paperwork, daily briefs, a personal computer, and a multitude of other office desk items lay hastily scattered across the floor. Lastly, an ex-human Were-rabbit, still wearing her uniform that noted her status as a US Air Force Major, has a Secret Service man in a rutting leglock under the painting of Benjamin Franklin. In a cosmic instance of irony, The Football lays forgotten on the floor next to the damaged bust of former President Harry S. Truman.)

(Non does not fail to notice just how familiar most of the monsterized women are. The sheer sexual energy emanating from the room spreads to the National Security Advisor, bringing him quickly to a half-erection before he comes to his senses and closes the door. By a stroke of luck, he was unnoticed and unheard, as the orgasm-grunts and yelps of the woman and man on the Presidential desk drowned out the sound of the door closing. The Advisor then quickly re-engages the locks on the Oval Office entrance.)

(With one more distraction on his mind, he uses the secretary’s desk computer to check on Tunnel Zulu Papa, which takes the Resolute desk’s chair down an elevator to a one-man tunnel that leads to a secret flat cellar door behind the projector of the Theater Room in the East Wing. Non hadn’t used it on account of that it can only be opened on both ends, or self-destructed, from either entering the passcodes into the President’s secretary’s desk computer, or from voice-activated codes that would need to be spoken into a speaker built into the Resolute desk. Knowing that the bombs that would cave in Tunnel Zulu Papa would not be felt by the Oval Office, he selects the tunnel, then enters the self-destruct passcode, 1986DBLABYRINTHSIDETWONO.SIX. With no one else the wiser, he turns to the others, still quietly waiting on his greenlight from the closet.)


(N.S.A Non) “Alright, everyone. We’re leaving. The Presidential family is completely compromised.”

(The others look on in horror. Wollcroft gasps, Lance goes back into the closet to unleash a flurry of slurs, the other two airmen slump back into the chairs in utter defeat, as Eydis also takes a seat, bowing her head in grief.)

(Wollcroft) “All of them? Even POTUS’s grandkids?”

(N.S.A. Non) “Whoa there, good thinking, Lieutenant! We swore an oath to protect that man and his family. We’ve mostly failed, but there’s still hope. I forgot about the grandkids, to be honest.”

(Lance) “Whaddaya mean they’re gone? Dead?”

(N.S.A Non) “I mean the President is eating out that maid Lisa, who is now some kind of dog-woman. The First Lady is now a Demon and she’s blowing him, I’d recognize that ripoff Jackie Kennedy outfit anywhere. The Presidential secretary became a bee-woman and it turns out that she likes eating ass. President’s son and daughter-in-law, who’s now a moth-woman, are smashing and they’re doing it right on the Resolute desk. The military aide that had the President’s Football became a rabbit-lady, and she’s making damn sure that her Secret Service lover ain’t pulling out anything soon! You wanted details, there you go!”

(Lance) “What in the actual fuck, man. Well what are you waiting for? His secretary’s gotta have those phone numbers somewhere? Grab them! Then once we find that jammer and take it out, we’ve gotta call them pronto! We’ve gotta disable their Football before they remember about it and shut all the nukes off!”


(N.S.A Non) “Already ahead of you, Lance Corporal. Bingo, found a list of phone numbers. Here they are! Page 3. Let’s head back out into the hallway. Oval Office has got to be bugged, and ‘Freyja” is good, but she’s not fast enough to kill them all before someone can hit an alarm. Am I right?”

(Eydis) “You are correct. As simple as it would be to slay them all, it’s far too likely that they’ve anticipated this, and have a trap placed. Do you have any idea as to where this jammer may be? I would also very much like to know if those children are safe, or are not.”

(N.S.A. Non) “If Royal Makai’s bitches have any sense of poetic irony, the jammer’s been placed in my office, on the other side of this floor. Needed to double-check on some personal items there anyways. ‘Freyja’, once we get there, create a deflection shield and take point. Purify the room in case of any aphrodisiac traps. Once that jammer is taken care of, we can declare the President’s Football compromised to lock it out of the system!”


(Eydis) “Wise maneuver. I shall do just that.”

(The group makes their way back out the Cabinet Room and into the hallway. Unnoticed by the others, Eydis cannot help but spare a glance at Non’s spilled seed. Entering the hallway, one of Wollcroft’s airmen nearly trips on the clothes that once belonged to Lucinda. They make their way through the circular hallway, deciding to avoid the lobby in case of more traps. Passing through the Oval Office corridor, the Roosevelt Room is clear of hostiles. Three soon-to-be-incubized cooks are in the Dining Room, not knowing that their lovers are dead at the end of the West Colonnade. Eydis senses them, motioning to Wollcroft. If there’s anything that she had taken well to learning on Earth, it was modern American urban warfare tactics with Non and his Delta Force accomplices. Wollcroft kicks down the door, opening fire on the three surprised cooks. Two go down quickly, their now-dead bodies strewn over the electric stoves. The last cook falls over to the floor behind a deep-fryer, as the 1st Lieutenant quickly zips into the room to double-tap the last cook’s cranium, then zips out. He gives the others an all-clear hand signal.)

(Moving on, the first office of the Senior Advisor is empty, while the secondary Senior Advisor office is locked and occupied. Eydis senses demonic energy from the room, pulls out her sword, then knocks on the door with her shield in a ploy to stab whomever comes to the door, THROUGH the door. To her surprise, the 64-year old Senior Advisor is at his desk. Making a wild, but lucky guess, he assumes that it’s National Security Advisor Non who’s knocking, and invites him in.)


(Senior Advisor Blackwire) “Come on down, Non! I don’t bite, yet! I’m alone, this ain’t no trap! Scout’s Honor! I just wanna talk, and if you don’t like what I’ve gotta say, you’re free to walk away, I won’t hit any alarms!”

(N.S.A Non) “Alright, Blackwire! I’m coming in!”

(He walks into the room, as Blackwire motions his hand out for Non to take a seat. He fills an iceless shot glass of Wild Turkey Rare Breed, then fills another, offering it to Non.)

(S.A. Blackwire) “Oh, would you relax for once in your life? I was there when you briefed the Secretary of Agriculture and the FDA and DEA heads on that ‘prisoner fruit’ stuff. They didn’t give me any yet, but I’m willing to try some, once my wife gets here. It’s just plain-Jane Bourbon, no tricks. I remember what you briefed us on, regarding getting turned into an incubus. Irrelevant until I get to see my wife again. I know about the negative side-effects, but getting a swig of the Fountain of Youth is a fair trade-off if you ask me.”

(Non takes a shot, remembering that Blackwire always offered his guests a shot of liquor. He hasn’t been incubized yet, but he has most definitely switched sides to Royal Makai.)

(N.S.A. Non) “So they got your wife, huh? What’d they turn her into?”

(S.A. Blackwire) “Oh, you know Francesca. She always was a cat-lady on the inside, and now she’s one on the outside. Says she’s got spots like an ocelot now!”

(N.S.A. Non) “You know, you’re really taking the first steps towards the end of the human race in stride, my dude. Don’t you give a shit about that? I know you weren’t sleeping in on me and ‘Freyja’’s briefings on how Royal Makai’s intergalactic hustle operates.”

(S.A. Blackwire) “Non, my boy, I must admit my motivation. I’m selfish, and it’s nothing personal. I’ve got three sons, bless their hearts. But me and Francesca have been trying for at least one little girl since the start. And now we’re too old to have kids anymore. Monsterization, or ‘magic-assisted biological de-aging augmentation,” as the SecAg put it, is our only hope to have the daughter we’ve always wanted. I’m sorry, pal. But when I took Francesca across the threshold and made our vows, I swore to do right by her. And this is me, doing right by her. If you lose, me and my sons will still be dead from old age, long before we’ll need to worry about running out of men. But you won’t lose. I know you’ve got some kick-ass 3000 IQ plan to beat the Kenkouans, which is why I’m not going to stop you. My wife and the boys are waiting on me back at our beach house down south in the Outer Banks. I was going to wait until we all surrendered, but you’ve made it THIS far, you’ll make it to the end. I just know it. Guess I’ll be clearing my desk now. Then I’ll head out the lobby, drive over to Dulles, take a plane down to North Carolina, then parachute out. The Mamono won’t touch or hassle me, I’m married to one. You’re gonna make those nukes fly, kid, and you’re gonna save the world. Francesca’s been upgraded, I’ve gotten exactly what I needed out of Royal Makai. Let ‘em eat plutonium, while me and my family make a toast to you in our private basement-bunker.”

(N.S.A. Non) “Blackwire, I’ll admit it. I came in and expected that I would have to blow your brains out. But I can’t do it. You did what you had to do. As upset as I am on the inside, there wasn’t really much I could do to stop you. What did you tell them? Did you let them in the building?

(S.A. Blackwire) “Nope. I didn’t need to do anything. They upgraded the President’s daughter-in-law first. She managed to get through security, and then she turned the First Lady. Then they nabbed The Boss’s secretary, and it was open season once she did a manual override on the blast windows from her desk. The First Lady walked in here, told me my wife was on the line. So I took the call, and Francesca told me all about how happy she was to have a new lease on life, and how we’ll have the daughter we’ve struggled so long for. Once the call was done, they cut all the lines, and set up the radio jammer, which you probably have noticed by now. They put it in your office, it’s a trap. Dunno what kind of traps though, but your buddy Freyja’ll probably have some magic way to beat it.”

(N.S.A. Non) “Thanks for the tip-off, and thanks for the drink. Take the Wild Turkey with you! Once this all blows over? Me and the SecInt, we’ll head over to your place and help you finish it off. Good luck to you and your family. Sorry it had to be this way, and my condolences to your wife.”

(Non reaches out to shake hands, Blackwire accepts.)


(S.A. Blackwire) “And good luck to you and your pals too. I don’t know if you had thought of it, but I took the liberty to give out orders to fully stock all of the secure rooms here, just in case you succeeded and the nukes flew. Gotta give the survivors here as much time as possible to stay underground before having no choice but to risk ground-floor radiation. The job was finished three days ago, and I told our upgraded colleagues not to mess with them until I give an all-clear order. Told ‘em it’d make for a juicier trap if we left them without a trace of demonic energy. Success or not, I’ll see you around. And if you get yourself killed somehow, then I’d like to say that it’s been an honor serving the American people with you. I know you had your heart set on the Oval Office, and I think you’dve made a fine President. Also, I never told anyone this until now, but if it ever comes up, tell the Secretary of Education that I said she’s a complete bitch, and I hope she gets botulism.”

(N.S.A. Non) “You know, I completely agree about the SecEd. Well, so long, Blackwire! It’s been an honor as well!”

(Non gets up from the chair, then walks out of the room. As he leaves the Senior Advisor office lobby, Blackwire has one last word to get in.)

(S.A. Blackwire) “Oh and one last thing! Just remember, if we lose, you won’t exactly be through yet! Elected politicians will go out like the dinosaurs, but there’ll always be a place for unelected officials like us!”

(N.S.A. Non) “I’ll keep that in mind, man!”

(Non returns to the hallway to find that Eydis and the others had already cleared the White House Chief of Staff’s office.)


(N.S.A. Non) “So was there anyone inside?”


(Lance) “Oh, yeah, there sure was. Turns out that the Chief of Staff was a furry. Some snouted dog-woman was sucking him off. They saw us, and then they both pulled Glock 18’s out, and tried to ice us. Airman Lindon got hit thrice in the gut, your girl’s patching him up right now. Hostiles are dead, how was it with you and the Senior Advisor?”


(N.S.A. Non) “I let my fellow advisor go. He’s no threat. Long story short, he had a simple goal, and he outplayed me AND the aliens. The guy’s old and he wanted a biological daughter, and it looks like he’s gonna get one. We all danced to his tune, and now he’s bowed out of The Great Game. All there is to it.”

(Lance) “Well that’s great. Once less fellow human to waste a bullet on. Once the Valkyrie's done fixing Lindon, we’re making a move on the Vice-President, oorah?”

(N.S.A. Non) “Oorah, Marine. Let me in the room, we’re taking those Glocks. Can’t hurt to have some extra firepower. Probably should have taken some off of those traitors back at the West Colonnade.”

(Lance) “Too risky now. Oval Office might see us this time. After we’re done at your office, we’re heading downstairs. Our VIPs have got to be down there somewhere, then we’ll take the stairway up, the one next to the Cabinet Room. Once our VIPs make it to the center section of Whiskey Hotel, I’m afraid we’re going to have to assassinate POTUS and the others. In all seriousness, they know too much. Can’t let them escape, they might make people think the alien occupation is legit. Huge morale drops on our side. Like you said sir, we swore an oath, but our oaths were to the United States of America, NOT it’s leaders. And we’ve got to do it, not ‘Freyja’. She’s too high-profile. We need to make it look like it’s just you, in charge of a motley crew of stragglers. We know that they know you’re here. But we don’t know if they know that your angelic trump card is here. And if they know she’s here, we might get those Lilim called in on us. And if they’re anything like what you and the Valkyrie have mentioned, it sounds like they’re walking WMDs.”

(N.S.A. Non) “Won’t lie to you on this, Lance Corporal. The Lilim basically ARE that. They’ve got demi-god level magic abilities, they can read your mind to an extent, and then brain-fuck you, and some of them can straight-up warp reality in the immediate vicinity around them. We know that at least one of them is active on Earth, but she’ll only be able to take down one missile silo or submarine before it’s too late for them. And then there’s the Lilim daddy, The Ultimate Hero. We honestly have no fucking idea what his upper limits are. ‘Freyja’ has only gone toe-to-toe with him thrice. And every time, he went softball on her to make the monsterization easier. That rat bastard is someone in this city, and our shit-clock’s ticking.”

(Airman Lindon, having overheard the conversation, walks over to take the Glocks from the cold, dead hands of the White House Chief of Staff and his wife. Handing one over to the National Security Advisor, who puts it in his left pants pocket, along with grabbing three extra 33-round magazines to put in his right pocket. Lindon then walks back to strip the Chief of Staff’s brown shoulder holster, offering it along with the other Glock and spare magazines, to Eydis.)

(Lindon) “Please, ma’am, take it. Least I can do for you, saving my life. You never know when you might need it. Maybe you’ll run into someone who can tank your magic, but not a bullet.”

(Eydis) “I would highly doubt the possibility of encountering such an opponent, but there is wisdom in your logic. I accept your offering, with great thanks. At the very least, it will save me from wasting mana if I must do battle with humans.”

(She puts on the holster, viewing herself in the Chief of Staff’s office lobby. She then lowers her weapons, places her hands on the holster straps, creating a glowing effect that lights up the room like a flare. Once the effect dies down, the others notice that her holster has turned blue, and the Glock now has the appearance of being painted golden yellow, save for the blue trigger.)

(Eydis) “The Advisor is correct, let us proceed, lest we squander enough time to draw the Ultimate Traitor’s baleful direct attention. Mister Wollcroft, if you would kindly open the Vice-President’s door? I will enter first.”

(Wollcroft) “Affirmative, ma’am.”

(Wollcroft opens the Vice-President’s office lobby and peeks in, only to jump back against the hallway wall to scream after seeing whatever lay within.)

(Wollcroft) “KILL ‘EM, KILL ‘EM, KILL HIM! THE VEEP’S A DIDDLER! HOLY MOSES ON A FUCKING POGO STICK, HE’S DIDDLING KIDS!”

(N.S.A. Non) “I knew that smarmy fuck was an actual freak-in-the-sheets! Sick piece of shit! ‘Freyja’, kill him, kill him now!”

(Eydis) “Disgusting perversions! He’ll die screaming!”

(Eydis barges into the lobby, to find a Sabbath ritual with the Vice-President in the center. He’s blindfolded & tied to a makeshift stake in the center of the room, as a vaguely mid-teens Witch is about to fondle the VP’s 70-year old wrinkled nutsack. Having heard 1st Lieutenant Wollcroft’s screams, the Sabbath group of 12 was already facing the door, ready to fight to keep their ‘onee-san’. Expecting to fight just one human, they mostly lower their guard, only to meet the grim and outrageously disgusted visage of Eydis. The Sabbath members start taking steps backwards in fear, knowing full well who exactly they were now dealing with. Eydis swiftly draws her sword, while looking at the open door. As the Sabbath group waits for her to make the first move, she turns her head to Non.)

(Eydis) “Advisor, I must assure you. You do not need to see this, and I take no pleasure in doing what I am about to do to these corrupted children. Please do your soul a good deed, and close the door. I will open it soon. I must rip and tear until it is done.”

(Non accedes to her wishes, closing the door to the soundproofed lobby. After what felt like several hours of grueling suspense, but was actually only four minutes, Eydis emerges from the lobby, clutching onto the blindfolded Vice-President by the neck, tossing him to the ground. The man reeks of a recent fear-induced trail of urine, and is covered in many of the blood and guts of his captors.)

(Vice-President) “Oh god, oh please, you don’t understand, this wasn’t me raping them! I wasn’t forcing myself on them, they came to ME! God, don’t kill me, I’m beggin’ you! Non! I heard your voice, I surrender! I’ll tell you everything, just let me live! As much as I wanna be young again, I-I’m not willing to do it this way! I don’t wanna diddle ANYBODY, but they cornered my office! I didn’t have a choice!”

(Eydis) “As much of a slime as he is, he speaks the truth. Those monsters were raping him. He only consented, from his fear of a worse fate.”

(VP) “And can SOMEONE take off my fucking blindfold and untie my hands, please!?”

(Non kneels down and takes off his blindfold, letting him finally see, while Lance cuts his zip-tied hands free.)


(VP) “Oh, you! The Valkyrie! You saved me! I-I can’t put into words just how much I appreciate the rescue!”

(Eydis) “Words are enough from you, now tell us whatever you know!”

(VP) “I’ll tell you what you need to know, but first, where’s Lucinda?”

(N.S.A. Non) “She tried to make me rape ‘Freyja’. So we went and put her to the sword, literally.”

(VP) “YOU. DID. WHAT!? YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU’RE GUILTY, TOO, YOU UPTIGHT, CONDESCENDING, NEANDERTHAL, PRIMITIVE THROWBACK DARK AGE FAGGOT-WHORE! WE WERE GONNA BE MARRIED, ONCE THIS ALL BLEW OVER AND DRUELLA GAVE ME THE BLAIR HOUSE! YOU ARE SO DEAD, YOU MURDERING SHITWIPES!”

(The Vice-President then pulls out a .45-70 Derringer that had been hidden up his ass. Of course, no one had seen that coming, but Eydis managed to quickly turn around, moving her shield into position to deflect one bullet into the ceiling, while the other bullet hit Airman Lindon square in the middle of his ceramic body armor, a missed attempt to aim at Non. The bullet fails to penetrate the armor, but the sheer kinetic force of a .45-70 bullet at near point-blank range is enough to knock Lindon flat on his ass. Even though he had only two shots, Wollcroft’s instincts went into full effect, immediately raising his M16A4 to double-tap the Vice-President’s skull into bloody gibs.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Whoa! Nice shootin’, Lieutenant! Where the hell’d you learn to move that fast? Keanu Reeves movies?”

(Wollcroft) “Nice guess, sir. But no, I’ve got combat experience. Did a three-year tour of duty with the Suez Canal MFO. Fuck, man. If you told me last night that I’d storm the White House and assassinate the Vice-President, I woulda’ called you a wacko off the meds.”

(N.S.A. Non) “Not an assassination if you were defending other people, but you’re right. This is completely bonkers and scuffed, as the Brits say. This is going way, way worse than I thought it would. Thought we’d make it in time to rescue everybody. I was dead wrong. I really don’t want to see any dead kids, someone give me the blindfold. I need to get into this drilled-skull’s office.”

(Eydis picks the blindfold off the ground, putting it over Non’s eyes. She guides him over to the Vice-Presidential office, using her magic to push any corpse-obstacles in the lobby out of his way. Upon reaching the office, she closes the door. Non then takes off the blindfold.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Alright, let’s see what he had in the old safe. Hmm, here’s his clothes, his security clearance access card, some more .45-70 bullets. Now his desk. Nothing, dammit. Just folders full of blackmail that’re now worthless. ‘Freyja’, destroy his file on me, would you please?”

(The Valkyrie does so with a fiery flick of a wrist, erasing the largest compilation of evidence that would prove just how deep and wide Non’s covert circumventions of Executive Office protocol, military regulations, and the Constitution itself, went. They understood that one-time abuses of authority would be necessary to save Earth civilization as they knew it. And if Non ever went too far, he could trust his ‘guardian angel’ to keep him on the straight path.)

(Eydis) “My lo-dearest Advisor, what do you intend to find in this room?”

(N.S.A. Non) “Double checking to see if he’s got the Gold Codes. While we’ve got a trick up our sleeves to duplicate them, Royal Makai might be able to put a wrench in our gears if they try a certain move. The President should normally have them somewhere in the Oval Office, but some days it’s randomly assigned to the Vice-President, to throw high-profile spies off. Hmmm, his safe’s open, let me take a peek. Oh my God!”

(Eydis) “Yes! That is, umm, what have you found!?”

(Non pulls out a black leather suitcase with gold-yellow snap-locks, identical from the outside to the Nuclear Football used by former President James E. Carter Jr.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Jackpot! I found the secondary Football! Once that jammer’s down, I can lock the President out from here! Only one last thing to do!”

(Non proceeds to unplug the Vice-Presidential Office’s personal computer tower, then pops the tower open from the side. Unplugging and taking out the solid state drive, he places it in the zipper-pocket on the back of the secondary Football.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Bingo. Who knows what secrets and information the Veep had digital access to? If there’s information that he or someone else in the government had sold us out to Royal Makai before today, it’ll certainly clear me of any crimes committed in the line of duty. Treason on a level this high would certainly justify the most extraordinary of countermeasures. Let’s get to my office now.”

(Repeating their entrance into the room, Eydis gets the two of them back into the hallway, closing the door behind her. In her mind, she gives thanks that the impending devastation will wipe away the traces of what her dear Advisor would call an ‘Anakin Skywalker’ maneuver.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Alright, patriots! Last stop before Dodge City! ‘Freyja’, let’s execute the plan.”

(Eydis nods in acknowledgment, putting a shield of holy magic around herself. As the others maintain a distance by standing around the corner in a small waiting room, she enters the room. As she opens the door, a tripwire is snapped, comedically getting a pail of prisoner fruit juice dumped on her. At the same time, a 12 gauge beanbag round out of a pipe shotgun hits her in the chest. They harmlessly flow & bounce off of her shield. Noticing that the blast windows have already been activated, she then walks to Non’s desk, taking a seat in his Corinthian leather chair. As she sat down, the chair activated a whoopee cushion packed with aerosol demonic energy, to no effect. Hitting the power button on his computer tower shoots out another blast of prisoner fruit juice, this time from a digital clock that was suspiciously plugged into the computer via a USB cord. She knew the clock was rigged, well aware that her Advisor was obsessively compulsive at keeping perfect time in the clocks in his offices and lairs. And this clock was six minutes ahead. Opening the three drawers on his desk from top to bottom, she found nothing tampered in the top and middle drawers, only to set off a demonic energy-tampered smoke grenade in the third drawer.)

(With all attempts at sabotage an utter failure, a Gremlin emerges from the closet where Non kept his public functionary dress uniforms, two cocktail-party tuxedos, a now-missing boxed photo album of his family, and a single note in an envelope. Lastly, inside the closet lay an emergency rifle, to be used in case the White House was ever attacked while Non was still inside. It was a Steyr G62 that had been gifted to Non, in return for arranging a large sale of the rifles to the Alaskan Coast Guard and State Troopers. The Gremlin was taken by surprise, but recognized Eydis for exactly what she was, grabbing the G62 in an attempt to open fire. Only to realize that in the heat of the moment, she hadn’t put the magazine in. With a smirk, Eydis stabs the Mamono halfway down her sword, then tosses the monster out the door. As Eydis uses a quick spell to clear the office of demonic energy, the Gremlin was laid out on the hallway floor. Near-death, the Gremlin pulled a pro Predator move, attempting to cackle as she triggered a series of 10-second time-bombs under her overalls. However, Eydis had seen the first two movies with Non, thus she placed a shield around the Gremlin to prevent the explosion from damaging the building. The time-bombs hilariously fail to detonate, as Eydis turns off the barrier. In utter annoyance, she unholsters her Glock 18, fatally shooting the Gremlin with a six-round burst of fire. Non and the others emerge from their hiding spot.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Woah, you got in! So this freak had my room booby-trapped?”

(Eydis) “Absolutely. I counted five separate traps, and she tried to shoot me with your rifle. The door, your desk, your seat, even your personal computer had traps within them. The room is clear now, I sense no more rotted mana in there.”

(With the all-clear, Non enters his room to sling his G62 over his back, walking into his closet to grab the four fully-loaded STANAG aluminum magazines that came with the rifle, placing two on each side of his plate carrier’s elastic cummerbund. He does a double-take upon noticing that his photo album box is missing, but decides not to raise a fuss about it. Looking around to see if Eydis is in the room, he quickly grabs the lone envelope, placing it with the Veep’s SSD inside of The Football. He then walks to his desk to see if it’s been tampered with, any further.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Alright, I’m online. Perfect! They forgot to dump the Recycle Bin. Bill Gates, you’ve saved the day, ahahaha. Now where’s that jammer?”

(His CIA-derived history software showed that the Gremlin had made copies of every file on his entire SSD, which amounted to fifty-two gigabytes. The files had been copied to fourteen different flash drives, along with being emailed to thirty-seven different Google Mail accounts across the United States and Canada, all of which had odd usernames that were highly likely to be burner accounts. The flash-drive copies were finished three hours and fourteen minutes earlier. However, the mass email had been sent out only twenty-four minutes before Non arrived in the room, while an even later duplicate email was sent to thirteen accounts in Great Britain, only seven minutes before the present. Right on the wire, exactly where the National Security Advisor wanted them to think they were. But it also occurred to Non that that might be exactly what they wanted him to think. Cat & mouse mixed with chess, is always a mental pain for even the most strategic-minded.)

(With the jammer unconnected to his computer, Non continues his search for that item, combing through his bookshelf, then inside and under his desk. Going back into his closet, he decides to put on a different slate grey suit, one that was set aside for press conferences. Taking the items in his previous suit jacket out, he noticed a long square object in his suit. Upon taking the suit off the rack, he then noticed a wire that trailed from the square object to another one inside the suit pocket of his black tuxedo. Upon taking that square object out, he figured out that every one of his suits and tuxedos had a square object with a green blinking light. Collecting them at once, then placing them onto his desk, he decided to cut the Gordian knot, realizing that this must be the jamming device, definitely a custom job. Placing the seven squares on top of each other to make a stack, he then pointed his rifle from top-to-bottom, chambering and firing one shot down, destroying all the jammers at once, leaving a hole through the desk that impacted the floor. He then walks out of his office one last time.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Alright everyone, we’re done here. God, I’ll miss this office. But all good things really do come to an end at some point. Let’s head on downstairs! I’ve located and destroyed the jammer. Once we find the VIPs, we’ll radio Colonel Andreas to make sure that the path is clear! Not sooner, we might overplay our hand if we do that. It’s best that we get out of the West Wing as quick as possible.”

(The group complies, Eydis again takes the lead, with Wollcroft in the back. Upon reaching the bottom of the staircase, Eydis slightly opens the door to peek her head out. She spots two Werecats talking to themselves in the hallway facing the north wall, five Satyros, eight Ratatoskrs, and a single Danuki that appeared to be the leader. Three of the Satyros are wearing clothes that indicate they were White House staff, while six of the Ratatoskrs can clearly be seen to have formerly been D.C. Metro police officers. A Satyros named Antigone is in conversation with the Danuki.)

(Antigone) “So, Rebby, my new pal! We were talking to ourselves, and we were wondering, you think we should go check on our upstairs folks? I’m sure that your, uh, President-fellow is under control, but I don’t trust those Sabbath folks to be able to hold that other man down. I remember back in my old world, that some men actually killed themselves after finding out that the Sabbath was going to take them. And what do you think that  explosion was?”

(Rebecca) “Miss Antigone, I assure you. Our security is tighter than a noose around a war criminal’s neck. There’s no possible way that the West Wing isn’t completely under our control. That explosion? Had to be the National Security Advisor. That Non’s a clever one. Probably lied and finessed his way back into his office, then triggered the traps I ordered placed in there. Explosion had to have been the grenade that I told your friend Gertrude to rig in his desk. She’s got him under control. We shall wait, Miss Antigone. Wait until we get the orders to march the rest of my old colleagues upstairs to the Press Briefing Room.”

(Antigone) “With the highest respect, my lady, how can you so callously disregard the people that once worked side-by-side with you?”

(Rebecca) “You were born a Mamono, right, Antigone?

(Antigone) “Yes, miss. In the Verelith Forest, a most wonderful place, even in winter.”

(Rebecca) “Then you wouldn’t get it. I was once a weak and silly human, barely able to get away with skimming from the budget. How was I supposed to live the high life I deserved, if all I could get away with was a ten-thousand here, a ten-thousand there? My mind has DRASTICALLY improved since I accepted the gifts of Royal Makai. Now that my youth and perfect body have returned, all I need is a man that can truly complement my newfound intellect and desires, and I’ll be on the fast-road to surpassing the riches of even Donald Trump! My worthless parasitic lout of an ex-husband will NEVER SEE ANOTHER PENNY FROM ME! Forty-five years of marriage, and all Alfred had to show for it was the three whores his loins made, and four-hundred fifty grand of debt!”

(Having heard enough, Eydis closes the door, then turns around to the others.)

(Eydis) “Advisor, do you recall a woman in the Treasury Department named Rebecca?”

(N.S.A. Non) “Yeah, Rebecca Cooper, Deputy Secretary of that department. What about her?”

(Eydis) “It would appear that she is in command of Royal Makai forces here. I also believe that she is the one that revealed your financial chicanery to the Secret Service, she claimed that she has been doing something similar, but for personal gain.”

(N.S.A. Non) “You know, she always gave me dirty looks when I passed by her office. So THAT’S the reason why. Has she been turned?”

(Eydis) “Yes, she has now become a Danuki.”

(N.S.A. Non) “Ugh, she’s a trash panda. Well, let’s get this over with.”

(Eydis) “There are two Werecats to the north of this door, and fourteen Mamono in the main area. I would suggest that the Advisor handle the Werecats, while the rest of us handle the others.”

(N.S.A. Non) “I agree, good plan. On the count of three, Big Miss will smash through the door and run out like Leeroy Jenkins. The rest of you, shoot anyone that dodges her blade and shield! I’ll join up once the cat-women are dealt with!”

(The others agree on the plan with shouts of ‘oorah and hooah.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Alright, here goes nothing. This is the biggest one yet. One, Two, Three!”

(Eydis smashes the door, immediately locking in on Rebecca Cooper. Non follows, doing a forwards leap, firing at the Werecats. Both are wearing body armor, but Non’s gunfire hits one in the lower stomach three times, and the other is hit once in the throat, both are neutralized, dying of blood loss within a minute. By the time it was over, Eydis had sliced up eight of them, while the others had shot the remaining six.)

(More Mamono rush into the fray, with three more bursting out of the Photo Room, one from the M Room lavatory, two more from the Photo Closet, three from the Secret Service offices, and one from the office of Non’s Homeland Security counterpart. The room turns into a firefight bloodbath, ending in all hostiles killed, at the temporary cost of Lindon and Lance, who had taken multiple aphrodisiac-stinger hits from the Manticore that had been hiding in the M Room lavatory. They are quickly excused to ironically hop over the dead biological-mashup, running into the M Room to get their privacy while “rubbing it out” of their reproductive systems.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Alright folks, that was too much gunfire noise to miss out on! The real heat is officially on! Fourth quarter’s started, our best quarterback and linebacker are out, and we’re down by 25 points!”

(Eydis) “Are you making a professional sporting joke?”

(N.S.A. Non) “Indeed I was, my dear! Outstanding display of firepower from all of you!”

(He opens the M Room door, kicking away the decapitated head of Rebecca Cooper.) 

(N.S.A. Non) “And an outstanding job from you guys too! Take your time, I get it. I was in your shoes just a few minutes ago! Wollcroft! Check the Ward Room, I’ll check the kitchen and the Navy Mess Room. You there, other Airman, what the hell’s your name?”

(Other Airman) “Senior Airman Petrov, 89th Airlift Wing sir! Glad to be here! I think we’ll pull this off, so long as you keep rolling with the big-brain moves! You know, it’s kind of funny. Had proper procedure been done, we’d both be on Air Force One right now!”

(N.S.A. Non) “Desperate times call for unusual measures, but keep up the good work, airman! We’ll have the bastards on the run soon enough! If we find the VIPs, double back here, ‘Freyja’ will hold the line!”


(Eydis) “Indeed I will. Now go, all of you! Time is an utmost essence!”

(Petrov, Wollcroft, and Non proceed to make like a banana and split. Petrov and Wollcroft find no hostages in their target rooms, while Non sweeps the kitchen, then combs through the Navy Mess Room. Zilch. Non returns to find Petrov and Wollcroft having already returned.)

(N.S.A. Non) “So I take it that we found nobody. Well, there’s only four places on this floor left. We’ll head to the Situation Room first, then we’ll try the Secret Service offices, then the ground floor Press Briefing Room, then their offices. Had they been in the upstairs Press Room, we’d have spotted them when we dashed through the West Colonnade. Either way, we’ll head back upstairs to wipe out the Oval Office, deactivate their Football, and proceed to the top floor. If our VIPs still aren’t there, we’ll have no choice but to write them off as casualties. We’ll head back to the East Wing, head to the Emergency Operations Room, and proceed with the backup-version of Phase Four.”

(He pokes his head into the M Room one last time.)

(N.S.A. Non) “You guys about done in there? We need you two to keep the lobby under control. At least until we’re done in the Situation Room and it’s adjacent smaller rooms.”

(Lance) “I’m fine now, sir. Just need to take a piss that I’ve been holding in since we saw the Vice-President.”

(Lindon) “Just about done sir, think I’ve got one last nut to bust! Can’t get my old drill instructor out of my mind! They turned her into a Minotaur back at Andrews, had the milkiest jugs I’ve ever seen on a woman that wasn’t plastic or pregnant!”

(N.S.A. Non) “Understandable and respectable, given the situation. Just don’t take too long, we might even end up leaving you behind. And keep an eye on the tourist entrance too!”

(Lindon) “Affirmative, sir!”

(N.S.A. Non) “Onto the Situation Room, let’s roll out.”

(The four freedom fighters walk into the entrance to the Navy Mess, this time taking a right turn. The Situation Room’s door handles are locked by a most stereotypical cast-iron lock, of the sorts that you’d see as a prop in a 1950s Hollywood period piece. Suspecting a trap, Non puts his hand on Eydis’s shoulder, silently pointing at the lock. He then makes two hand motions that the Valkyrie correctly assumes to mean that she should activate her shield and break the lock. She does so, finding that the lock is booby-trapped, shocking whoever touches it with demonic-energy enhanced static electricity. Courtesy of a Raiju that had long left the White House, killed by the aforementioned Apache strafing run on the Harry S. Truman Building. Eydis’s shield no-sells the trap, as she smashes the lock with her shield.)

(She then pushes the door open, drawing her Glock in case of more traitor Secret Service agents or D.C. police officers. Instead she finds every seat at the table to be filled with American politicians, military officers, and office aides, with a few more of them sitting at the chairs that sat against the walls. All of them were making muffled screams, the ones already acquainted with her made varying body language movements of relief, surprise, and joy. They were all tied to their chair armrests, their mouths also gagged. Quickly moving to sense any demonic energy in case of Doppelgangers, she finds none. Before letting the others in, she raises her hands, firing out a wave of mana that disintegrates all of the hostage’s gags and zipties. A roar of joy erupted from the room, from nearly everyone inside. Some went up to hug her, a chaplain tried to yell over the others to ask if she was an angel of deliverance, and one older-looking woman shook her head in disappointment. And as Eydis calls the others in, she notices a 40-year old man in a light blue dress shirt, dark blue pants, and an equally dark blue beret. He had been handcuffed to a briefcase suspiciously similar to the one Non had slung over his back.)

(Eydis, speaking to Non and the others) “Gentlemen, I have freed your superiors and compatriots! Please, come in! And to the rest of you, please, SILENCE! As happy as I am to see that you are all safe, sane, and still pure, this victory belongs to your National Security Advisor. This rescue mission was entirely his plan, although I did accomplish the majority of the… ‘heavy lifting’ for him. He is joined by four tremendously courageous members of your military forces, who deserve just as much recognition as I and him!”

(An older man in the uniform of a three-star US Army general is the first to speak up, directing his voice towards another man in a dark gray suit and purple tie.)

(General) “Look, Jackson, I told you! You didn’t believe it, but I told you! I knew that Arctic Circle son of a bitch would pull through! Knew he was the man with a plan to bust us outta here!”

(Jackson) “Yeah, yeah, he did it, I was wrong. Excuse me for not having the four-hundred bucks on me at the moment.”

(Non, Wollcroft, and Petrov walk into the room, greeted with thunderous applause from the rest, with Eydis joining in. A vaguely 50 year-old man in a dark green suit, pushes his way through the crowd to greet the National Security Advisor.)

(Green-Suited Man) “Well, well! Look what the Space Swede dragged in! Non, you did it, you son of a bitch!”

(The man reaches his hand out, flexing his bicep. Non responds, doing the same in return, as the two men do their best impression of the famous “Predator Handshake of 1987”. As they begin to jokingly arm-wrestle in mid-air, Non quickly loses, but keeps up a shit-eating grin that could rival a Cheshire cat-woman.)

(Green-Suited Man) “Aw, better luck next time, nigga! What happened, did Saint Peter and the Seraphim make you push too many pencils?”

(N.S.A. Non) “I dunno, Lawrence?! Since when did the Secretary of the Interior’s office make a request for a steroid prescription? You KNOW what that shit does to ya’ balls and boner!”

(Secretary of the Interior Lawrence) “Aw, cope, cope, cope! You’re just jealous ‘cuz ya’ running all over the country instead of hitting the weights at the pool room! If you’d done that instead, ya’ could’ve just punched your way here! But speakin’ of here, I thought you were headed to Cheyenne Mountain, what gives?”

(N.S.A. Non) The paper trail for that ‘trip’ was all bullshit! The whole thing never happened, I did it to buy time while I went through with Phase 2, did it at the South Carolina Senate chambers over at the Capitol! Even threw the aliens off by sending out a plane to Colorado Springs, with a body double from the Navy. And boy, it’s been a long time, getting from there to here, but my time is FINALLY here! 

(SecInt Lawrence) “And with good timing, too. Sometime later this evening, they were gonna drag us to the Press Briefing room, make us turn our Football on, just to make the world watch as we tell the military to stand down, then deactivate all our nukes, and order the country to surrender! Total demoralization shit! Then of course, turn the women here into monsters, right then and there, and make us all have an orgy on live TV!”

(N.S.A. Non) “Really nasty stuff, I know! I’ve been warning most of you for months now, were you all really not taking me as seriously as I thought?”

(Most of the people in the room look away from him, admitting their shame without speaking. A beady-eyed man in a black Mao jacket speaks up.)

(Director of National Intelligence Davis) “With all due respect, your briefing, and your expediency in liquidating their spies, painted a picture that the Kenkouans were only a world-ending threat to medieval-like civilizations. It seemed that nations with even World War One technology levels could render their invasion a laughable turkey shoot. It’s now clear that we’ve horrendously underestimated not only their capabilities of teleportation, but also just how quickly they can turn our own citizens and colleagues against us. You were right to believe everything that Miss Freyja had to say, and it seems that you’ve overestimated the threat, which is never a bad thing.”

(SecInt Lawrence) “Davis is right. Don’t you all get it by now? It didn’t take them four hundred years to take over their world, because The Order was a difficult fight! It took ‘em that long because they didn’t even remotely see The Order as a realistic threat! They were playing fuck-fuck games, toying with an entire civilization to milk as many males as they could, before the supply couldn’t keep up with the demand any longer! Well here they are, we’re a realistic threat, and they ain’t playing no games anymore!”

(Eydis) “It is only in hindsight that I realized this. Our morale was so high, it had never occurred to us that Royal Makai had outsmarted us from the first day of their existence. The Order’s day became numbered when the Ultimate Hero betrayed us. And it took four hundred and fifteen years for them to tire of the chase games.”

(Secretary of Transportation Jackson) “Well, it’s better late than never to launch our counterattack. They brought in some chicks who called themselves ‘Gremlins.” Started fucking around with all the computers in the NSA Watch Center, and our Video Conference Rooms. West Wing is compromised, is the EOC clear?”

(N.S.A. Non) “It is indeed, sir. We’ve got the Main Residence and the East Wing cleared and under lockdown. We’re pulling out of here, consider the West Wing a write-off! Let’s go, people, shit-clock’s ticking! We need to reach a safe place to contact NIGHTWATCH, Looking Glass,  and NORAD! But just one last thing! Someone hand me a notepad and a pen! I need to mark down who’s who here, in case of shapeshifting infiltrators!

(The Attorney General tosses a notepad and pen at the National Security Advisor. He catches the notepad, but misses the pen, fumbling to the ground to pick it up. Keeping his cool, he places the Vice-Presidential Football on the main table, then begins taking a headcount of everyone that he can recognize.)

(He marks down: Attorney General Mickelson
Secretary of the Interior Lawrence
Secretary of Transportation Jackson
Secretary of Health and Human Services Dhar
Secretary of Energy Jamison
Secretary of Education Matsuda
Director of National Intelligence Davis
Secretary of Agriculture Plains-Flower
Administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency Lemonis
White House Deputy Chief of Staff Marroquin
Federal Bureau of Investigation Director Willemsen
Speaker of the House/New Jersey Congressman Delvecchio
Chair of House Strategic Forces Subcommittee/Florida Congresswoman Palmieri
Delta Force Commander/Major General Menendez
Air Force Chief of Staff/General Hamlets
Chief of Space Operations/General Marston
Chief of the National Guard Bureau/General Hoboken
Senate Appropriations Committee Chairman/Louisiana Senator Douglas)

(N.S.A. Non) “Alright, that’s everyone I know. To keep this clear, I’m gonna go down the list. Everyone who isn’t on the list, stay standing so I can headcount you too. Once this all blows over, we’ll use this list to reconvene and put our planet back from the brink.”

(Non does so, naming everyone down the list. By the time he’s done, there are nine individuals still standing. He then points at the three of the group that are wearing military uniforms.)

(N.S.A. Non) “Alright, you three, identify yourselves?”

(They confirm their identities as military aides-de-camp, respectively for the Air Force Chief of Staff, Chief of Space Operations, and the Chief of the National Guard Bureau. Non notices that Menendez’s aide-de-camp isn’t around)

(N.S.A. Non) “Hey, Menendez! Where’s your top goon Haverton?”

(D.F. Commander Menendez) “Lost track of the Captain when I high-tailed it outta the Pentagon, and I left my phone at my desk. He’s definitely a goner. Along with everyone else in our anti-alien task force. I don’t know HOW, but we had an info leak. Epsilon Lime got ambushed in their convoy while en-route to Wright-Pat. They were supposed to pull the two of us out of the city in stealth Blackhawks, while providing fire support for Freyja! That psycho bitch Cooper had a tablet out, made me watch every last one of them get ‘claimed.’ Tried slapping me around too, she was pretty pissed that I was too angry to get a hard-on. Said she was gonna save me for herself once the Press Room orgy began. Take it that you’ve wasted her?”

(N.S.A. Non) “‘Freyja’ went and lopped her head off, your ass is safe. Dammit, I liked Haverton, always genuinely laughed at my jokes. Where’s the rest of the Pentagon hot shots?


(Menendez) “Secretaries of the Army, Air Force, and Navy are dead. In all this chaos, they got their limo crushed by a Mack truck that ran a red light, then the Pentagon FPA pumped that truck driver’s guts full of lead. And the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs was at Vandenburg. I say ‘was’, because some lunatic corporal walked into her office to unload an M27. We never found out why that corporal did it, because he domed his own skull with a 9mm hollow-point.”

(N.S.A. Non) “Damn, what a shitshow. Alright, you four in the dress shirts and ties?”

(The next four individuals confirm their own identities, bringing Non to add them to the list.)

(Chair of Senate Internal Revenue Service Oversight Subcommittee/Illinois Senator Dupree
CIA Case Officer Halberstram
US Army Warrant Officer-2/Chaplain Jenkins
Chair of House Ethics Committee/Oregon Congresswoman Sorrentino)

(N.S.A. Non) “Okay, so that leaves you last two. Who the hell ARE you?”

(Stranger One) “Uh, I, uh, well… You’re not gonna kick us out if we tell you, right?”

(N.S.A. Non) “Depends. Stop stalling, we’ve got government shit to do!”

(Stranger One) “Oh, god, fine. My name’s Heinrick Little, I’m a bartender at the Exchange Saloon, you know that sports bar about two blocks northwest of here? I was going through the Secret Service cars in front of the West Wing Lobby. Thought I’d get lucky and find a grenade launcher or-or a machine gun or something. But then this bird-woman pulled me out of the car by my legs, held me upside down in the air with her feet-talon-things. Then she started singing Total Eclipse of The Heart, and I fell asleep. Woke up here all gagged and tied up with everyone else.”

(Stranger Two) “I’m Sherry Phillips. Not even from around here. I’m an architecture firm accountant from Boston. I was on vacation here, staying over with a cousin down south in Fredericksburg. While the whole world was going batshit crazy, I tried to hijack one of those old Humvees that was just sitting there, right in front of the Chamber of Commerce about a block north. Remembered a old History Channel documentary that one of my coworkers had put on TV during a recent lunch break. It told the audience exactly how to start up a Humvee without needing keys. So I hopped in the car, turned it on, and then this orange-hair fox-woman taps me on the shoulder, she’d been hiding in the backseats. Then she covered my mouth with a chloroform rag. I got knocked the fuck out, and then I woke up here trapped like the others. Guess the muties thought that me and Mister Little were politicians or officials trying to get away.”

(N.S.A. Non) “That Humvee was a setup, you got got.”

(Phillips) “No shit, Sherlock.”

(N.S.A. Non) “Well, fuck it. You two can tag along. We’re just going to declassify all of this for the inevitable HBO miniseries in five years anyways. Say, Little? You know how to do the barista thing with coffee?”

(Little) “Yeah, yeah. I used to be a Starbucks barista, actually. Before I got fired. Long story, don’t call the customer a faggot-bitch right to his face, even if he keeps hassling you on his stupid complicated Venti order.”

(N.S.A. Non) “Good, excellent! Once we get over to the East Wing bunker, you’re on bartending and barista duty. Don’t make me regret bringing you aboard. Take this Glock too. It’s an 18, which means it’s full-auto, so watch your finger on that trigger. There’s no safety, moving the switch up makes it single-fire, moving it down makes it full-automatic.”

(Phillips) “And what about me, Mister Non?”

(N.S.A. Non) “Screw it. I’ve got nothing for you to do. Just stick around, watch the show, write a book in ten years about how you lucked your way into a front row seat to World War 3!”

(CIA Case Officer Halberstram) “Speaking of front row seats, we ought to convene as much of the National Command Authority as we can. Where’s the President and Vice-P?”

[One minute later]

(Halberstram) “WHY DID YOU ASSHOLES KILL THE VICE-PRESIDENT?”

(Wollcroft) “Actually, it was just me. I shot him. Double-tapped his brains out, actually. That asshole had pulled a gun, tried to shoot the Advisor, then he shot one of my men. We had to take him out. But in his defense, we HAD just killed his Chief of Staff, who was also his mistress.”

(Halberstram) “Alright, smartass. So what, you gonna put a bullet in the President’s head too?”

(N.S.A. Non) “That’s ex-aaactly what we we’re gonna do next.”

(Halberstram) “You guys are fucking insane, you know that?”

(Lance) “Oh, we’re well aware of that by now.”

(Eydis) “Your President was in a Mamono orgy when we arrived at his office. It’s too late for him. He must be eradicated. Even with you all now rescued, if that man comes to his senses, he could single-handedly ruin all that we have worked towards to save your nation and world.”

(N.S.A. Non) “If it makes you feel better, we’ll make it as quick as possible. With that in mind, we should get going. ‘Freyja’, check the kitchen and Navy Mess hall, would you kindly?”

(Eydis) “I believe I understand what your ‘move’ is.”

(The Valkyrie walks into the kitchen, using another scanning-spell to detect any traces of demonic energy. The Senior Advisor had told the truth, the recently-stocked food was clean.)

(Eydis) “Everyone, please come into the kitchen, take whatever food you can hold onto, while still being able to run!”

(The ex-hostages obey the request, with the kitchen nearly picked clean save for varying sorts of junk food. Now alone in the kitchen, Eydis raises her hands, and the remainder of the food disappears. She then walks out back into the lobby, where the FBI Director is armed and leading everyone in a single file line, the Mamono had caught him off-guard, never bothering to check that he had a loaded Beretta 92X in his coat pocket. The Valkyrie walks up to her dearest Advisor.)


(Eydis) “There is no longer any food of substance in the kitchen, your friend Blackwire was not lying. How shall we proceed next?”

(N.S.A. Non) “I’ve got a plan, but it’ll require crackerjack timing. That is, very, very swift timing. You are going to escort the VIPs until the last one reaches the East Wing, keep them together, keep them safe. Phillips is going to call Colonel Andreas’s cell phone, they got the number off of General Marston’s satellite operators at NORAD. Wollcroft, Petrov, Lindon, and Lance are coming with me to the Oval Office. I’ve already told them, and we’re ready to move as soon as that last VIP enters the Main Residence. I’ll pull out my Football, use it to remotely lock out the President’s Football. When a Football is locked out of the system, it’ll blare an alarming noise until someone deactivates the alarm manually. Right before that happens, the others are going to bust into the room and shoot everyone. I’ll time the lock-out to occur just a few seconds after the Oval Office clearing begins. It’ll confuse and distract them, increasing our chances of victory.”

(Eydis) “Are you sure that you can handle this? Murdering your leader? Murdering the man who kindly gave you the power that you craved for so long?”

(N.S.A. Non) “‘Freyja’, sweetheart. You know as well as I do that he’s not the man I knew anymore. He knew the risks when he ignored my advice to hunker down at Mount Weather or Raven Rock. And he’s about to pay the ultimate price. Once we’ve made it back to the main residence, we’re hitting the blast shield to cut off the Palm Room and the entire West Wing. Then once I reach the East Wing, I can trigger the West Wing’s self-destruct sequence, along with the self-destructs to every underground entrance to the White House, except for the easily-defensible one that leads to the Metro subway tunnels. They know too much, and they’ll take advantage of every secret access point we’ve got.”

(Eydis) “Yes, I see. You have learned well, dear Advisor.”


(Petrov) “Learned what?”


(Eydis) “I’ve told him much regarding my past battles with the Mamono back on my homeworld. And he paid very close attention, as I was his best source of information on what their siege tactics were. In every single relevant situation, the Mamono would attempt to subvert and incubize the highest levels of royalty before they would fully attack a settlement. If their incubized converts were found and killed, the Mamono would always immediately retaliate with what you would call a ‘blitzkrieg.’ They exploit the weakest link in a defensive line, then send as many of their forces as they can into the new defensive gap.”

“They will find our gaps. And then they shall throw everything they have at us, once they discover that the Vice-President and President are dead. Even more so that they no longer have any control over the White House, or any influence over your National Command Authority.”

(With that said, a sense of quiet dread befell the lobby. After the FBI Director timed his watch, he gave out a countdown with his fingers. Upon reaching zero, the crowd began to speed-walk their way back to the Main Residence. The last person in that conga line, Congresswoman Sorrentino, reached the Palm Room without issue. It seemed that Royal Makai was still unaware of the loss of their hostages. As Palmieri helped her colleague Sorrentino into the Main Hall, the group left inside the West Wing began to realize just how eerily quiet it was. Other than the odd gunshot and animalistic screams and rooftop orgasms in the distance, they could hear nothing. Deducing that General Marston had informed Andreas to move the troops away from the West Wing, the time to act was now.)

(Having locked and loaded their weapons in the ground floor lobby, the motley strike-team quietly tiptoed their way up the stairs and next to the Oval Office. Non had separated, gone back to the White House Secretary’s office, to prevent the FIrst Family and their military aide from counter-attacking to seize the secondary Football. By the time they could get their computer back on to disengage the locks from inside the Oval Office, Non would be long gone through the busted windows in the Cabinet Room. He had also once again placed a chair to block the Cabinet Room exit. But unknown to the others, Non had an ulterior motive.)


(As agreed upon, Non would have one minute to block the Cabinet Room door, get to the Secretary’s office, pull out the secondary Football, and get it ready to lock out the President. With six seconds to spare, Non was ready. With perfect timing, Wollcroft quickly kicked open the regular entrance. He Immediately opened fire on the President’s son and daughter-in-law, having moved their literally-monstrous passion against the Resolute desk, rather than on top as before. Lindon had the other angle covered, firing at the President’s lagomorphic military aide and her own lover. The team maintained a distance, as Lindon spotted the primary Football. But before he could speak up, the President and First Lady, now hiding behind the eastward couch, pulled out their own guns to return fire, unintentionally using their Kikimora maid to draw the strike team’s fire.)

(Hearing those gunshots, Non deduced that they sounded too close to be the strike team. So he hit the Enter key, locking out the primary Football. As it made it’s expected alarm noises, the last rogue Secret Service agent leapt-fired from behind the Resolute desk, dual-wielding Beretta APX’s like a John Woo character. Making a successful roll-dodge to grab their Football, he had also managed to slide up next to the President and First Lady. He quickly handed The Football over to the President, who began to scream in rage at being unable to override the lock-out. Non was able to detect the failed attempt to override his override, deciding that it was time for him to rock ‘n roll.l  Once again placing his finger on the under-desk scanner-button, his fingerprint was once again authorized, disengaging the door’s locks. It then occurred to him that the President’s specific request that this door be an outswing, would be an ironic undoing for the ages. Kicking the door open, he already had his Double Eagle drawn with a top-off bullet in the chamber, putting three shots in the Secret Service agent, and four into the First Lady. With only two rounds left before a reload, he had the President dead to rights with his Sig M17 dropped to the floor and hands in the air. Non’s allies took this opportunity to secure the room, with Petrov retrieving the primary Football, and Lindon moving around Non to return to the secretary’s office, to secure the secondary one.)


(POTUS) “Non! Non, old buddy! Gimme the Football, man, I need that Football, GIVE ME THAT FOOTBALL! You didn’t listen to a fucking thing that my wife warned! That sore loser angel isn’t trying to help us! SHE. DOESN’T. LOVE. YOU! She’s a bitter bitch out for revenge, and she’s been playing into your greed and lust for power! I know why you’ve been helping her so much! You don’t even care if she does or doesn’t love you! You’d have done it if she was a guy! You let her subvert the Constitution, just because she made you feel important! She’s been feeding you a fantasy that you’ll save the world or some bull-crap! You’re not gonna save anybody, you’re gonna ruin it for every last person on two whole planets! You really think you can live with that? You shit-wipe! I should’ve fired you the minute that I found out you were making COG plans without telling me! I should’ve listened to Sorrentino and appointed a Brazilian instead of you! Well what are you waiting for! My wife’s dead! My son is dead! Laugh it up, kill me! Fucking do it! Oh, you don’t have the balls, huh! You can talk a big game about pushing The Big Red Button to vaporize a zillion people from behind a computer screen, but you ain’t got the moxie to shoot a guy right in front of you!”

(N.S.A. Non) “On the contrary, Mr. President! I’m bringing you in. Like you said, I do have a lust for power. And I’ll get much farther if I put you on C-SPAN to testify about deliberately sabotaging my plans for the Kenkouan invasion, how you underplayed their threat to the others, how you looked the other way regarding China’s brutality to its own people, how you mocked and belittled me for trying to get more money funneled into Veteran’s Affairs, how you had to make me cry to the Joint Chiefs of Staff to get our nuclear triad fully mobilized, and how you’ve been sabotaging my efforts to set up some bargaining table with the Kenkouans! By the time I’m done at the witness box in the Supreme Court, Delvecchio’ll be sworn into here, and you’ll be swinging from a rope off of Monticello’s ceiling, if I’ve got anything to say about it!”

(POTUS) “You disobeyed multiple direct orders, you lousy little Arctic weasel! How many of our citizens did you disappear without warrants! How many did you rendition to black sites? You got no high ground, snow-boy!”

(N.S.A. Non) “You think I’m worried about that? You think I was EVER worried about that? I got two words for you, ‘retroactive sanctioning.’ You think there was some symbolic reason why I went to the Capitol Building before here? Newsflash, asshole! I went there because it was close to the last place I was at, while much more secure! Wanna take a wild guess at what I was doing? Hint! What sort of paperwork would I need, that would require Supreme Justice Abernathy to sign off on?”


(POTUS) “Oh my God. You bastard. You did it, you went and did it, you crazy son of a bitch. You’re really gonna do me this way. I DID WHAT I HAD TO DO. YOU THOUGHT WE COULD WIN? I TOOK THE OPTION THAT WOULD RESULT IN THE LEAST AMOUNT OF DEATHS! THAT FUCKER LAWRENCE, HE AND YOUR ANGEL CUT ME OFF FROM MAKING THE ORDER. We… we had our fun, running this world. But the new world on it’s way will fix all the problems we can’t solve. Not without turning into a gulag state with thought police. As the man at the top, I can safely say that we don’t deserve to rule. Handing it all over to Royal Makai will solve everything, or at least everything that actually matters! It’s not too late, Non. It isn’t too late to just let me deactivate the nukes. Just put the Football down, put the gun down, and go home. Some of our folks might want to kill you just for getting this far, but I can pardon you and call them off. I can do it, Non. I can turn it off, call off the Ultimate Hero, and everyone with you gets to walk away without reprisals.”

“This isn’t treason, Non. This is me living up to the Constitution. I’m “ensuring domestic tranquility” and “promoting the general welfare.”

(N.S.A. Non) “You are. I can’t dispute that. But I’m ‘establishing justice, providing for the common defense, and securing the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity’. I suppose you forgot that part, especially the posterity thing. Suppose you also forgot about what that fellow whose face you see every damn day said? Is that what you want? As sorry as I am about your son, do you REALLY want your grandkids to grow up in a world without liberty? Without the freedom to choose anything beyond what their brainwashed instincts want?”

(He motions his off-hand to a painting of Benjamin Franklin, right above where the bust of Harry S. Truman once sat, while his other hand is still pointing his Colt .45 at the President. Non then points to Wollcroft, then towards the firearms that had been dropped by the deceased in the room. The airman moved to seize them.)

“Remember what he said about people trading liberty for security?”

(POTUS) “That’s a low-blow with a fair point. But that was then, this is now. What the hell were we doing with our liberty anyways? Turning matrimony into a lawyer’s joke for pinching a few pennies from the IRS? Bombing goat farmers back to the Stone Age so we could save a few dollars on gasoline? Bossing Europe around to get ready for Round Three when they lost their taste of war before Round Two was over? Don’t think I forgot about the full-spectrum polls from back when I first got in office. 84% of our blue-collar workers were in favor of atomizing THREE BILLION Indians and Chinese, if it would keep their inflated paychecks high. This isn’t 2003 anymore! With drone technology, and our Air Force light-years ahead of everyone but the Bear and Dragon, we can now pull multiple Iraqs at once, without any Fox News footage of grieving widows with their hands on body bags. And your chair-warmer Mous was completely in favor of it, that sociopathic bitch. Always spreading her Betty Boop legs for those Boeing and FN Herstal payoffs. So go ahead! Launch the missiles! Let the picture of the future be a boot of liberty, stamping on the face of security forever. Let this shitty cycle of everyone getting progressively worse and worse to each other continue. Let the human race keep spiraling further and further down to rock bottom. If you do this, Non, just remember that we could’ve made you happy and free from freedom. A freedom FROM choice. Could’ve given you the easy life, for the rest of your life. Remember that, when Earth reaches the bottom of it’s barrel. Because when that time comes, you’ll be just another rat trying to claw and clutch and climb over everyone else to get back out. Now get the fuck out of my office. I’ll come along quietly, but I need a moment alone.”

“A father shouldn’t have to outlive his own son. I just, I just need a b-bit more time with my boy. My wife.”

(The President slowly walks over to his son’s still warm corpse. Lifting his son up to clutch his head, not unlike the infamous painting of Ivan the Terrible, clutching his own son’s corpse. With tears already running down his cheeks, he begins bawling to himself about how he should have sent his family to Camp David. Non and the strike team quietly leave to respectfully allow him to grieve. As the strike team leaves their door open, Non closes the one he entered from. Five seconds after his door closes, the crack of a single gunshot reverberates throughout the White House walls. Knowing exactly what had just happened, Non took a flip-phone out of his pocket, placing it on the secretary’s desk. He then left the Oval Office through a broken Cabinet Room window, his weapons sheathed and the secondary Football in hand.)

(Quickly running across the lawn to rendezvous at the West Colonnade, Non was desperate to get his mind off of what had just happened. At least until reaching his colleagues in the East Wing bunker.)

(N.S.A. Non) “So about those turned Secret Service folks. You guys pick up their guns and ammo? Any bit could help.”

(Petrov) “Already picked dry by the ex-hostages. Even some of their clothes got jacked. Utterly fuckin’ disrespectful if you ask me, but I suppose all bets are off when it’s World War Three. Let’s just go, man. Ain’t nothing left here but the dead and the soon-to-be dead on the top floor. So I got a radio message from Marston. They’ve got security eyes on the whole floor, about fifteen aliens in there, just waiting for someone to hit a tripwire on the staircases. Whole floor’s a trap.”

(N.S.A. Non) “You got it.”

(The last living humans in the West Wing quickly make their way to the Main Hall, noticing two arrows landing on the White House south lawn, right by the Oval Office. All of them assume that the arrows were Hail-Mary missed shots. As the last of them enter the Hall, Non returns to the computer to reactivate the blast shield, cutting off the Palm Room and West Wing. He types in “CHECKMATEW-H.exe”, which then prompts a password request. He then types in “JUBALEARLYRIDESAGAIN.” The computer accepts, generating a prompt stating that the 40-second countdown begins in five seconds.)


(N.S.A. Non) “Someone radio the rooftop troops! West Wing’s gonna blow from the inside-out in about forty seconds! Tell them to hit the deck when it happens! As for the rest of you, mission accomplished. Do whatever you can to assist in defending Whiskey Hotel, find Andreas and see if she needs any help with anything. As for you, Lindon, I’m gonna need that Football. It’s been a pleasure, but also not a pleasure, if you get my wording. Keep staying frosty. It’s going to get even worse.”

(Lindon hands over the briefcase. Now holding both primary and secondary Footballs, Non speeds off towards the East Wing’s staircase, a spring in his step and a devious smile on his face. The President and Vice-President were out of the way, one way or another. A vacuum was about to be filled, and National Security Advisor Non was keen to squeeze into the new management. Phase Four was about to begin.)





“....Somebody done fired up the brimstone, and you're gettin' ready to burn!
It's gettin' ready to shake, you're gettin' ready to ache
Somebody done snitched to the news crew, and it's gettin' ready to break!
You're gettin' ready to lie, they're gettin' ready to spy
Somebody's been put on the hot seat, and you're gettin' ready to fry!
 
-Stevland Hardaway Morris


LINK TO PART THREE : https://www.4binz.org/452