Arc Seven : Fear Of A Pink Planet “Now as to the Kuiper Group themselves, I will now regale you with my opinion on them. That is, I bear no ill will to the ones codenamed SEDNA, HI’IAKA, GONGGONG, NEMESIS, ORCUS, ERIS, and MAKEMAKE. I am not blinded enough by hate to push blame onto those who are not responsible, those who are merely associates of the ones who have truly done harm unto me. My hate is reserved specifically for Administrator Harald Vogner, Inspector-General Elias Panoglu, and Minister Lexi Dubois. Especially Dubois, may the spawn of that arch-scoundrel be cuckold’d or Alped. And she would not have been in the position to do what she did, had NATO’s intelligence branch and America’s NASA not covertly collaborated to create the Kuiper Group in the first place. Though I still wonder to this day, as to why neither the American Space Force nor the European Space Agency were ever directly involved. We shall never know, as Chief of Staff Marston and Director General Aschbacher have long since been unavailable for comments or interviews.” -excerpt from the Mamono Encyclopedia Britannica, First Edition, Chapter Seven: How I Learned To Keep Worrying And Hate The Bombs Bozeman, Gallatin County, Montana STYX Station, Level 5 3,700 feet above sea level 10:40 P.M., Mountain Standard Time Zone (In a room labeled “E-6,” there lies a human and a Mamono sitting next to each other in transparent plastic chairs with lavender-gray seats, atop a short stage-platform. Two other chairs lay unused over the red suede carpet that matches the walls behind them with glittery sequined pillars breaking up the color-monotony. Around the platform and where the pillars meet the ceiling, were arranged sets of lightbulbs, two of which were already flickering on account of having been bought off-the-record from Costco, in cash. Three Blackmagic 4K Plus studio cameras faced the stage, as did five rows of fifteen seats each. And in those chairs, sat the Vice-President of the United States, and the Krampus head of his Secret Service detail, using the empty studio to have a private conversation.) (V.P. Fred Roquefort) “You know I have to shoot you if we find a reasonable cause, Vera. After what Andreas just told us about Ben Schmidt, I’m afraid I have to sleep with both eyes open around y’all.” (Secret Service Agent Vera Lauderdale) “I know, sir. I don’t get it though. How the hell did all the USSS folks at the White House go rogue, but not the ones already running all over town? Would’ve been a smarter idea to do the opposite. I mean, look at….Emilio Gutierrez! He’s fine, probably ‘cuz he spent the whole morning on a wild goose chase for Non, but me and my girls? We got our asses kicked like it was nothing!” (Roquefort) “So how’d your team get got?” (Lauderdale) “It was last midnight. Schmidt told us to head over to the ground-floor press room back in the West Wing. We walked in thinking it was some quick briefing before we’d run out and help VIPs or civilians hide inside Whiskey Hotel. Then when our last unaccounted agent took a seat, the door locked on us, and we all got gassed with that demon-energy shit before we could smash through the windows. Next thing you know, that princess in the tracksuit, her name’s Azazel or something, orders us to hop on a pre-prepped C-5 Galaxy at Ronald Reagan International. Our mission was to intercept you, in case O’Grady AND Dicola got deep-sixed. Which they did!” (Roquefort) “So why aren’t you….intercepting me right now?” (Lauderdale) “Look, jackass. That energy did something to us, besides the fuckin’ obvious mutations! It forced us, like….like. Nah, it was straight-up mind control! Like being in the backseat of your own head! So we climbed aboard and flew over to paradrop onto your hideout in Bozeman, but right before we did a group HALO jump, all that mindwipe juice--” (Roquefort) “--wore off?” (Lauderdale) “Bingo. It must’ve been an altitude thing, since we were at about 27,000 feet when the back door opened and it was right then that my mind started going back to normal. ……Mostly normal” (Roquefort) “You mean the cargo ramp? Jesus, what diversity center office did they hire YOU out of?” (Lauderdale) “Fuck you and lick my furry pussy, Freddy. Not EVERYONE in the Secret Service did glownigger shit in the military. Take the two guys we just talked about. Schmidt got his job from nepotism, just ‘cause he was Dicola’s dad’s fraternity big at Cornell U back in like, 1983. Gutierrez was poached from the Baltimore FBI office’s Hostage Rescue Team, and you’re talking to a 9-year vet of Chicago SWAT. Schmidt personally hired me, hell he personally hired almost EVERY fightin’ woman in the SS. Obviously, it was one big diversity move, but to be fair, we’re all qualified veterans with street-beat OR ground-pounding experience. Some of us thought he just had a kink for heavily armed women in fancy suits and uniforms, but Agent Spengler gave my team the real four-one-one.” (Roquefort) “I’m already up to speed on that fifth-column thing, Max Dupree told me while I was driving over here. So how did the remaining guys keep their jobs?” (Lauderdale) “Informal legal blackmail, I shit you not. The ones left, the ones that didn’t accept a reassignment to a desk job or a transfer to the DSS, were the dudes who put their heads together and threatened a class-action lawsuit for discrimination. Schmidt had to keep them around or get the book thrown at him, and Director Spelling was too busy getting pearl necklaces from that cat-costume femboy bellhop she found on Bumble, always making sneak-trips down to Richmond instead of paying any attention. She’s SUCH a bitch.” (Roquefort) “Yeah, I was in the same social circles as her back in Princeton U. We always knew she’s one of those ice queens that act like complete assholes to everyone except their pampered paramours, and she’s the opposite of a size queen. God, I hope the rumors are right about her….untimely demise in downtown Annapolis. Chopper crashing right into a Valero’s pumps is what they’re saying.” “......So, how did it feel like? T-to transform, that is.” (Lauderdale) “Oh geez, I thought you were gonna ask me what it’s like to have a goat pussy or something. So…..it hurt. But, it kinda felt good. Like…..like when a masseuse pops your back, or unwinds the muscle knots around your neck. A-and your whole-ass body starts getting hot, REALLY HOT, and you can’t get the idea out of your head. The idea to find a guy and pin him down and rip his pants to shreds and suck him off and then slam your ass down on his dick and make him bust and have his babies and hold his hands and live happily ever after an--” (Roquefort) “--Goddamn, that’s a lot of ‘ands.’ But what about y-you know, your…legs, and feet-hoove-things, and your horns?” (Lauderdale) “I don’t know how to really describe it, Fred. I’ve got no toes to wiggle any more, can’t wear socks without turning everything into a slip n’ slide, and I keep losing my balance ‘cuz my muscle memory still thinks I have a heel and toes. It felt totes weird to have ‘em for the first hour or so, but then some kind of…..I guess you could say a new layer of….. instincts….. got copied and pasted into our cerebrums. Your mind starts to tell you that this is completely okay, like-like you ALWAYS had these mutations. And so you get used to them fast. I even almost forgot that I can’t wear boots anymore, back when me and my team was lockin’ and loadin’ up in the C-5. And the horns get in the way of wearing any helmets, thus the beanie.” (Roquefort) “I see. Well, I’ll cut to the chase then. I’ll give you five hundred bucks to let me touch your horns and hooves.” (Lauderdale) “What the fuck, Freddy, no! You have a wife, go do that to HER!” (Roquefort) “She’s still human and I respect her choice to try and stay human. Six hundred then.” (Lauderdale) “Hell no! You’re not my husband, and this is supposed to be intimate stuff!” (Roquefort) “That’s the alien thoughts running up in your head! They’re lying to you, Vera! How is this any different from going to a petting zoo?” (Lauderdale) “Because I can talk and kick your ass into a concave shape and tell you to fuck off!” (Roquefort) “Seven hundred and a season pass to Disneyworld! And you’re not even married!” (Lauderdale) “No, and a thousand times no! Why me?” (Roquefort) “You’re the only goat-lady I’ve seen that isn’t jailbait or already taken! Please, Vera, I need to touch it! I-” (The former Senator of Nevada starts salivating at his throat.) “I WANNA LICK YOUR HORNS! I WANNA SUCK ON THEM HOOVES AND DRAG MY TONGUE ALL THE WAY UP YOUR FLUFFY LEGS AND SMOOTH TUMMY AND STOP AT ‘DEM TITTIES!” (Fed up with this workplace sexual harassment, Agent Lauderdale raises her right hand up to give the Vice-President a massive bitchslap. Fred catches her by the wrist, then pulls her in with his other arms. Congratulating himself in his own mind, he lines up his mouth to intercept Vera’s, initiating a deep French kiss, his tongue dominating her entire mouth. His bodyguard nearly decides to punch him in the face then kick him in the stomach, but she relents upon noticing a stream of tears rolling down his face. Fred pulls out to take a breath, as Vera decides to calmly ask about his erratic behavior.) (Lauderdale) “Fred…..please. You’re married, a-and I’m not a homewrecker. Please, we can’t do this. Why are you doing this?” (Roquefort) “S-sorry, Vera. It’s just that--it’s just--it’s…” “Meg left me. Five days ago. We’ve been having marriage trouble since I got passed over for being Secretary of Defense in the next administration, and the crockpot finally blew this Tuesday. She took the kids, and locked me out of my own house in Carson City. I called in a favor from Governor Robinson so I could crash in a guest room at his ranch in Helena, which ended up saving my ass when D.C. got blitzed. Funny thing, if it wasn’t for this alien invasion, I’d be at a divorce law firm in Reno, getting the paperwork ready.” (Lauderdale) “Oh my god, Freddy. I’m…..I’m so sorry. But why didn’t your own state’s Governor help?” (Roquefort) “Almost everyone back home took Meg’s side. That bitch is probably already planning a date with that asswad Howard Davis. She already turned the kids against me, none of them want to be with their underachieving loser of a dad who’s three weeks from losing it all.” (Lauderdale) “Think she would’nt’ve done all those nasty things if she knew you’re the Veep now?” (Roquefort) “That’s just gonna kick the can down the road. Fuck her, I’m going to find someone else that I can make some happy with. REAL happy.” (Lauderdale) “L-like me?” (Roquefort) “‘Course I’m talking about you, ’ya silly goat. We’ve been around each other enough back at the Capitol Building that Meg was already accusing me of cheating on her with you. Well if the shoe fits, wear it!” (Lauderdale) “Freddy, I don’t think I can keep myself under control for much longer, this ‘s all too much! …...I love you too! I’ve been in love with you ever since we rode together to Quantico last July 5th!” (A pair of cartoonish hearts appear in her pupils, as she begins to drool as well.) “Let’s go find a room, a bench, SOMETHING! Forget about Meg, let’s fuck until you’re an incubus! We can reset your adulthood, you can do it all again with a wife and babies who aren’t gonna ditch you when you’re down in the dumps! We gotta go and star--what the fuck!?” (The Krampus-woman notices that a door about 20 feet away has been opened, and a man with a wireless microphone is standing in the middle of the hallway with a PRESS-labeled lanyard around his neck. With him is a human woman behind the center-facing camera.) (Lauderdale) “Some privacy, please!?” (Roquefort) “Okay, who the hell invited TMZ, and how long ‘ve you two been standing there?” (Reporter) “First off, not every camera pointed at a politician comes from tabloid rags. Second off, I’m Sean Devin, FOX News. You might remember me as the guy who interviewed Bigi Jackson last month about the balcony incident with his dad. And three, we slipped in right when you started saying something about petting zoos.” (Roquefort) “.....Sorry to say that I stay out of celebrity news.” (Lauderdale) “Sorry, too. They only ever put on C-SPAN and the BBC where I work.” (Devin) “Well, shit. Anyways, me and my camerawoman Jeanette appear to be the only news crew around here, could we annoy you with an interview right now?” (Roquefort) “Call for me at 7:15 A.M. sharp. Me and the agent here are gonna drink and bang our pains away until then. Don’t bother me until then, and I’ll give you an exclusive, even if anyone else from the Fourth Estate arrives by then.” (Devin) “Deal. Come on, Jeanie. Let’s go grill the Governor of Idaho, I got a scoop saying he’s on the 2nd floor! As for Agent Vera here, just one question! Whaddaya think about most of your entire agency turning traitor?” (Lauderdale) “They know the risks of pulling treason more than anyone else. I’m still repping Uncle Sam. No further comment. You two know where the private quarter area is? C’mon, this is some kinda’ 500-million-dollar FEMA survival shelter, they ALL have private quarters. Mous, Non, and Norville are total Jews about their budget requests, but they ALWAYS go the extra mile for quality-of-life crap! I’ve seen the McMansion rooms at Camp David, the Bush ranch, and Joe Biden’s place in Delaware, you’d think they hired British royalty for interior decoration advice!” (Devin) “Well, there’s something awfully familiar about this room, like I’ve seen it on a TV rerun before. But, uhhh, t-this has GOT to be highly classif-f-fied….b-but fuck it. Private quarters are on the 8th floor. My source told me to wait there until a press conference was announced, but I decided to check out this room beforehand. Please don’t arrest me, I’m just exercising my freedom of speech.” (Roquefort) “Well, you WERE invited here, and I’m issuing Executive Order Who-gives-a-shit-9000! In which I, Vice-President of the United States of America, Fred Roquefort, of sound mind and body, do declare that the entire state of Montana has the complete permission to speak freely!” “Now then, Mister Devin. Tell me everything about this “source” of yours.” Shuttle Carrier Aircraft N905NA Kaibab National Forest, Arizona Thirty-one thousand feet above sea level 10:46 P.M., Mountain Standard Time Zone (In the first-class seating area, a man speaks into an intercom towards another man in the cargo hold.) (Man in cargo hold) “...And furthermore, all that C4 would’ve been a helluva lot more useful had we spread them out into booby traps across the Johnson SC! Be honest, Harald! You wanted to turn a space shuttle into a Michael Bay prop, just to see what would happen!” (National Air & Space Administrator Harald Vogner) “Would you calm the fuck down already, Major! It was just the Independence, it’s not even a real shuttle! Besides, it worked! We took out about a hundred n’ fifty of them! Jesus, I hope all my associates aren’t ALSO getting grilled over every little decision by their number two’s too! I didn’t even ask for a Space Force liaison, President O’Grady personally came down to Cape Canaveral just to shove you down my throat! So count your blessings that I even let you come along, Larry, because if Non hadn’t busted General Marston loose, I’d have ditched you for literally being a flight risk!” (Space Force Major Larry Newaz) “Harry, need I remind you that NASA is a CIVILIAN organization. You are NOT the king of outer space! Go ahead, cry about it! You assholes had your half-century in the spotlight, but you’re second-fiddle to us now! The only reason we even keep NASA around anymore is because the NRO doesn’t want to deal with the paperwork, and because Roscosmos and JAXA have serious beef with the Department of the Interior for all those SpaceX bribery scandals!” (Vogner) “You just know YOUR role, and shut your mouth, Larry. Remember that I’M running the show here. You can barely even fathom the clout I have, the sheer political capital in my pockets! JAXA and the ESA answer to ME! Roscosmos consults me before they so much as sample a new flavor of Smirnoff vodka! I’m arm-in-arm with NATO’s top command staff! French, Russian, Japanese ministers, they jump when I say how high! The National Security Advisor CC’s me on the President’s daily briefings! Almost every politician in Florida and Texas, from all their D.C. senators, to the waste commissioner of Key West, to the mayor of El Paso, they ALL work for me! I’ve got top-level insiders in the CDC, CIA, Homeland Security, MI:5, Interpol, even in the Spetsnaz! I’ve got eyes all ‘round the world, from London to The Bay, Major! Do you have the SLIGHTEST IDEA, about just how we’ve been so prepared for the aliens? Me! That’s how!” (Newaz) “Bullshit! You mean to tell me that Non’s….” (Vogner) “That he’s a patsy? Not just him, Major. He’s just one of several tips on the iceberg. I roped him in to divert any attention from me or ERIS, and to take the fall in case he couldn’t outsmart the rest of the O’Grady administration and their new friends from outta town. And that Valkyrie? All that tactical information we got from her is appreciated, but the strategic info we’ve gotten out of turncoats and bribe-ees were a lot more useful in hindsight. SEDNA and NEMESIS falling for each other was also an unintentional bonus, brought even more heat down on the both of ‘em. And it was a complete success. Royal Makai has absolutely no idea that QUAOAR or HAUMEA even exist, no clue that we’re the ringleaders. Let ‘em have a round of whack-a-mole for those lovebird schmucks.” (Newaz) “Harry, did you just slip me into some worldwide conspiracy to counter those Lilim?” (Vogner) “I sure as hell did.” (Newaz) “So……now what?” (Vogner) “We’re going to land at Grand Canyon National Airport, then we’re going to NIX Station.” (Newaz) “What the hell does Richard Nixon have to do with any of this? Were those UFOs in Vietnam ALSO Mamono spies?” (Vogner) “Not talking about Tricky Dick, retard. I mean Nix, the moon of Pluto.” (Newaz) “Oh. OH! Shit, it’s all clicking now! Nix, Haumea, Sedna, Eris, they’re all deep-space asteroids and mini-moons!” (Vogner) “How the fuck did you rank this high in the Space Force and not figure this out sooner.” (Newaz) “My MOS is 17X, Vogner. Cyber Warfare. Anything past The Moon ain’t in my job duties.” (Vogner) “I SPECIFICALLY ASKED JERRY TO SEND ME A 14N!” “God-dammit, this entire time I thought you were in Space Intelligence! Well, fuck it! Cyber Warfare ain’t completely useless. You’ll do just fine at NIX, you’ll see.” (Newaz) “Should we call up the nerds in the comms suite and ask them about the status of your ‘Kuiper Belt’ pals?” (Vogner) “I was just thinking the same thing. Come on up here, I’ll fill you in.” (The man codenamed HAUMEA flips the intercom switch directed to the cargo hold off, then flicks the one to the comms suite on.) (Vogner) “I took a good chunk out of my yearly paycheck and took out a lot of favors from Boeing to make sure the interior of this jet was up to LOOKING-GLASS’s specs. You all better not be slacking off in there!” (A voice speaks up from the other end.) (Voice) “Uh, Frankie Spencer here, Mister Vogner. We’re working as fast as we can, but we’re just grad-school interns, uh, sir. Some of this software is high-end black ops military gobbledygook that we can’t decipher, we’d highly appreciate getting somebody from the Department of Defense to lend us a hand. But we HAVE managed to get tabs on your associates who-shall-not-be-named. Your transponders are all live and in effect. SEDNA is moving around Joslyn Castle in downtown Omaha, Nebraska. ERIS is moving fast across north central Tennessee, just left Nashville city airspace about six minutes ago. Their radio chatter was mostly encrypted, but we intercepted a bit about being stuffed with civilian evacuees on a Kroger’s roof, and something about an Immigrations & Customs Enforcement public servant running off to be a hero. Someone else ran off too, but the helicopter engine noise drowned that part out and we can’t isolate it.” (Vogner) “Has this ICE guy been identified?” (Spencer) “Y--yes. Guy’s name is Jacob Taliente, works at the agency’s HQ in Washington D.C. We’ve been using NSA software to access his phone records, and we found out his girlfriend dumped him less than a day ago. Perfect timing, he’s primo Mamono-bait now. He’s since made no contact with anyone else using his normal phone, not even his family. Smithsonian security camera footage identified him as having joined NEMESIS and ERIS at that plane museum next to the Dulles airport. They’re zipping across the country in our old VTOL prototype, the XV-15.” (Vogner) “THAT chopper? Woah. So Non’s little pet project with Fleischer paid off! Any dings on that baby and I’ll make sure it comes out of their wallets, though. …..But he kept telling us he’d take the Blackbird. Was he lying, or did something come up?” (Spencer) “Something DID come up. We were listening in to any phone calls coming from that Smithsonian at the same time, we managed to faintly overhear Non ranting in the background during a Leesburg cop’s outgoing call to her dad. We clipped and enhanced his voice. Tee-el-dee-arr, he and ERIS took the XV-15 because the Blackbird’s reactivation wasn’t completed on time. And they went to Nashville on purpose. Agent Taliente came along as a reward for directing them to a qualified Osprey pilot, someone from the Marines. The call ended right before they said the pilot’s name.” (Vogner) “I know exactly what the purpose is. The Ultimate Hero and his thirty-fourth pretty pink princess piddle-widdles, they’re tailing NEMESIS, trying to box him into a trap. Too bad, SEDNA anticipated this and set up some hoodoo sigils all over that city to conceal him. He’s still in Nashville, right?” (Spencer) “Yes, ‘Lord Vader’. Our transponder indicates that he’s in front of the fake Parthenon in the downtown sector, which is still in our hands. He’s not moving, so he’s probably getting frisked and metal-detected by the military or cops. There IS something to be alarmed about though.” (Vogner) “What?” (Spencer) “The thirtieth Lilim is most likely moving to intercept him too. Her….Jimmy, toss me that handbook on the Lilim, flip to Modia’s page first…..thanks!” “Her plan now seems to be about making a beeline for Governor Luc Van Carver, her previous assumed strategy of carving a swath from Gettysburg to Gary, Indiana appears to be complete misinformation. She did a disappearing act right after they took Pittsburgh. The Mini Cooper she took was spotted last noon, found abandoned at the Grand 'Ole Opry's parking lot when they turned the security feeds back on. The license plates checked out. But she was also recently spotted flying by that news station NEMESIS got sighted at, although this was about five hours before the XV-15 landed there. …..This ECHELON software is fucking creepy, not gonna lie. Shit’s like Person of Interest, we’ve got the keys to every traffic camera, every bank vault monitor, every unencrypted computer webcam from Lubec, Maine to Okinawa Island. Can’t believe the NSA just went and gave us their crown jewel with no strings attached.” (Vogner) “Oh, yes. Director Chesterfield was TOO easy to rope in. We ARE talking about the one man who has the easiest access to every single American citizen’s digital porn stash! There’s absolutely no reason to trust Royal Makai if you see what HE sees on a daily basis. He knows the score, and he gave away the crown jewels so he can cash in those good boy points for a promotion when the US government glues itself back together. Probably wants to run the NRO, the CIA, maybe take over as Secretary of the Air Force so he can have the DIA at his beck & call. But he hasn’t got the balls to go all the way up to SecDef. Or maybe he wants to get public opinion on his side to kick off a political career on a high note.” (Spencer) “So what if Modia curbstomps NEMESIS?” (Vogner) “Then Lady Liberty still has me, SEDNA, and ERIS. Roquefort too. That’s the whole point to our corner of the Kuiper Group, we prop one of us up as a fall guy to take all the heat, then the rest of us get the job done if the fall guy gets pinched. And since we’ve got a bonus with the Vice-President, that leaves us with two fall-guy slots. Hell, worst case scenario, Fred can at least let off Diego Garcia all on his own.” (Spencer) “So we wait for one of the other three to reach a Station before we let ‘er rip.” (Vogner) “Hell yeah, motherfucker.” (He flips the switch on the intercom, then unlocks the first-class door locks to let Major Newaz in. Meanwhile, Spencer returns to his designated computer screen, currently displaying air traffic across Tennessee with green triangles signifying friendly aircraft, red triangles signifying confirmed hostile aircraft, and white triangles for unidentified flying objects ranging from large Mamono to airliners on total radio silence. He zooms in to Nashville, pondering as a co-intern speaks up.) (Jimmy) “Frank, the city’ll be a red zone by tomorrow noon. We gotta make the call out to NAS Meridian, they’ve got search-and-rescue teams stationed there. We’ve got a green light, they can pull our guy out and let Music City, USA rot. We gotta do SOMETHING! Fuck!” (Spencer) “Calm down, Jimmy. The Ultimate Hero’s a one-man army, but he’s still just one man. We’re NOT calling Meridian, you heard the Administrator's orders! Look, Non’s gotta be a smart guy like us, or Vogner wouldn’t have let him in on our massive black op in the first place. We’re gonna let him do his thing. Besides, the city’ll last twice as long if we can get Van Carver out of the picture, and get all his troops under the mayor’s control. I’ve got a plan.” (Jimmy) “Oh, wise and mighty Frank, regale to us this great plan of yours?” (Spencer) “There’s gotta be at least one pay-phone around once we land. We stop for a minute, call Non, tell him to get rid of that governor, and warn him about Modia. We’ll have to be as fast as possible, just in case his phone’s bugged, or the Lilim and their flunkies already whipped out some spell that traces landline calls.” (Jimmy) “Well, that’s a good idea, but there’s just one problem.” (Spencer) “What?” (Jimmy) “I don’t have any change on me.” (Spencer) “....I, uh, ....I don’t either. Everybody! Raise your hand if you’ve got at least 75 cents on you!” (Nobody raises their hands. Another intern with a nametag on his polo stating “Lofleitner” asks a question.) (Lofleitner) “Uhhhh, dude, we’re in the 2030s, who honestly uses coins or payphones anymore? Jesus, at least have a debit card if you’re so scared about spending cash you don’t have!” (Spencer) “Just for being such a smartass, YOU’RE making the call, Billy!” 2500 West End Avenue Nashville, Tennessee January 3rd, 20-- 12:47 A.M., Eastern Standard Time Zone (US Army Private) “Sorry for the hold-up, Mister Secretary, but I’m afraid everyone gets searched, no ifs, no ands, no buts. You could be George Washington or Ulysses Grant and I’d STILL have to do it. I have my orders, and you’ve got yours.” (SecHS Non) “Well, we’re through here, not gonna cry about spilled milk. You got an escape plan if the bad guys break through, Private Simonson?” (Simonson) “Nope. I’m going out guns blazing. I am a bit interested to know what kind of monster I’d turn into, but that sex addiction isn’t worth the trade-off. No siree, I’m not budging from my post.” (SecHS Non) “Good fucking luck then, ma’am. In the worst case scenario, get ready to head into the sewers. You’ll find out why soon enough.” (As the Secretary passes by the hastily-constructed metal detector, itself taken from the Fable Lounge a block south and quickly rewired to a mobile generator, he stops for a moment to take in the sights. The Parthenon stands completely intact, save for the impact marks of twelve 20mm shells that had been magically redirected by an Owl Mage who had been fired upon by a F-22 Raptor the day before. The sorceress was no longer a threat by now, having been simply rammed by the Raptor seconds later, sucking her into it’s turbines, causing an explosion that killed her and the pilot.) (The building itself had two layers of barricades encircling it, both made up of sheet metal, concrete barriers of all sizes, several large automobiles and construction vehicles with removed tires or treads, and humble sandbags. Non moves through the cabin of a Hyundai Staria to get through the outer layer of defense. He then passes by a disheveled group of humans and a single Greenworm, sifting through scattered wreckage of the aforementioned F-22 Raptor in the hopes of finding intact electronics or bullets to sell or trade to get their next fix of alcohol or narcotics. Patrols of soldiers, law enforcers, and average armed citizens rush about, hoping that their efforts can at least maintain this makeshift fort as America’s last stand in this city should the worst come to pass.) (Non gets across the inner layer of defenses by climbing over a tall concrete barrier, nearly slipping while on the top. He hops down onto the sidewalk right before the main entrance, remembering to bend his knees to cushion the sudden stop, while thinking to himself that he had really ought to find size 13 running shoes to replace his increasingly uncomfortable Jackman Cap-Toe dress boots. A Tennessee state trooper attempts to halt him, but the Abominable Snowman quickly flashes his new Homeland Security identification card in the trooper’s face, then proceeds to pick up the pace. Aware that he has more important duties than hassling federal officials, the trooper continues walking his patrol route. Non walks up the last flight to steps before entering The Parthenon through its front doors, stopping to feel up the plaster-mimicking concrete pillars.) (For the first time since he left Fort Sumter at 8:06 A.M., two days earlier, there no longer needed to be any rushing about. The Ultimate Hero was miles away trying to break through to the eastern edge of downtown. Azneth and her hanger-ons were definitely unable to penetrate the local defenses to nab him. No major groups of Royal Makai-aligned troops or traitors were anywhere to be seen, for now. And no Lilim, Shoggoth, or similarly-empowered Mindflayer, Dark Mage, or Witch would be able to be anywhere around without tripping up any one of his Valkyrie's mana-markers. Supposing, he thought, they worked exactly as advertised.) (The Football was safe in the Congresswoman’s hands, his own entourage should already be on their way to CHARON Station. His former Deputy-now Acting National Security Advisor [and their mutual draconic charge] should be fine back at Charleston Harbor, President O’Grady & Vice-President Dicola’s web of domestic treachery had been neutralized by his own web of domestic treachery, and the eyes of two worlds had glimpsed our reclusive protagonist for only a few seconds before redirecting themselves to ‘ol Jimmy Delvecchio. “Long Live The King” indeed, to quote a certain black-maned lion. Let him and Druella scratch & bite for their big W’s against each other, he thought. While the Kuiper Group moves into position on the underside of the big chessboard that is the planet Earth, with only an out-of-touch demi-god and his strategically-useless daddy’s girl to play The Great Game against them.) (He has no idea that a Lilim older than even Druella tightens a noose over all of North America even as he metaphorically speaks, but back on the topic of Kings, it’s right now that a man wearing an exact replica of Elvis Presley’s powder-blue Vegas jumpsuit blows a loud whistle at Non right before the Alaskan opens the main door.) (SecHS Non) “Owwww! What the hell is your problem, jackass!?” (Jumpsuit man) “Uh-huh, well, baby, that there door’s a no-go, no-siree.” (SecHS Non) “You think I can’t open this door? Watch me.” (Jumpsuit man) “Oh, no, no, no, I say it baby, I say, it’s a dang ‘ol bad i-deer to open up from there.” (SecHS Non) “Why? What, is there some kind of tripwire that activates, like, a 75 millimeter cannon to blast me into the troposphere?” (Jumpsuit man) “Woah, nellie! That’s a close one. Naw, it’s a TOW rocket launcher on that there other side, baby. You wanna talk to the General, you take the regular museum entrance like all them other chumps, uh-huh.” (SecHS Non) “Hah! Rigging an anti-tank missile to the front door. I like the way Patterson thinks! Alright, I’m going. Say, you got any Percodan tablets? I’ve got body aches like you wouldn’t believe. C’mon, no self-respecting man of The King would be caught dead without any!” (Jumpsuit man) “I oughta kick your ass for crackin’ wise about that, but I got shit to do. If you're really in pain, I’m pretty darn sure we’ve got some Ibuprofen in the stockpiles inside.” (SecHS Non) “Thanks for the tip, and I’ll see you ‘round like a jelly donut.” (Jumpsuit man) “Man, fuck you.” (Heading back into the zone in-between the two defense layers, Non walks into a school bus and exits through a passenger window, this time tossing out the decoy Football before doing an overdramatic landing roll to no one’s applause. He walks down three flights of steps then passes through the visitor entrance, mentally noting that the hours-of-operation sign had been hastily covered by a blank poster with a large note written on it in permanent marker. It states that the governors of Mississippi & Georgia, and the mayor of Memphis, were to be shot on sight. Again, he flashes his department ID card to the guards, with no further hassle. Glad that he finally didn’t have to open his mouth and get that cavity searched, Non strolls through the building, disappointed to see a note stating that all the artifacts in The Parthenon had been moved to the 2nd floor‘s sculpture backroom, and that the elevator was out of order.) (Folks of all sorts had been stockpiling ammunition and reserving weapons of all sorts, having started in the gift shop and spilling out into the basement museum for extra space. A group of eleven Army Reservists were scattered around the ammunition stockpile, using Podavich speed-loader devices to quickly put all the little bullets in all the little magazines, then placing said magazines into properly labeled cans or boxes. Non walks through the museum-turned-armory, following the signs that lead him to the stairs leading to the 2nd floor, while trying not to knock over any of the various rifles, shotguns, and odd light machine guns leaning against the walls and display glass, nor bump into any of the plastic folding tables with stacks of miscellaneous pistols and submachine guns.) (The Secretary accidentally tips over a vintage Lahti L-39, nearly going even more red than he naturally is from embarrassment at the loud sound of the anti-tank rifle clanging against the floor. The corporal in charge of handling the ammo supply peeks around the corner to inspect the noise, and heads back to the gift shop after seeing Non lift up the Lahti and put it back in place. Heading up the stairs, he takes a right turn, entering the main room within seconds. What would normally be an empty open room with naught but a single statue, has been transformed into a command center. Several news-displaying televisions with subtitles set up surround the rooms, tied to the various pillars and plugged into wall sockets. Plastic folding tables crowd the floor, with various building schematics, maps of the county & city sewage lines, and FBI files on certain detainment or assassination targets, cluttering them. Four soldiers assigned to Bravo Company of the 3rd Ranger Battalion guarded the room, saluting Non while maintaining complete alertness towards the room. Non walks up to one to ask a question.) (SecHS Non) “At ease, Rangers. You guys mind telling me where the big man in charge around here is? Or are we already in a Do Lung Bridge fuck-fuck circus?” (Ranger 1) “Major General Patterson’s on his way back right now, Mister Non. He went off on a HVT retrieval op with the rest of our platoon. Weellll….what’s left of our platoon.” (SecHS Non) “......Herschel ran off right into an active AO?” (Ranger 2) “Permission to speak freely, sir?” (SecHS Non) “Permission granted to everyone and anyone I meet.” (Ranger 2) “Herschel Patterson ain't seen any combat since 1995, so his geriatric girdle-wearing ass done strapped up to go out and get as much action as he can. Son of a bitch is the textbook definition of ‘danger close!’ In the last two days, I’ve almost gotten airstriked by our own side SEVEN times while holding his six! You have NO idea how glad I am that me and Dukakis switched posts. And he’s off the reservation, you’d know all about THAT stuff. It’s one thing to do some area denial to buy us time, but razing almost everything north of the Cumberland River is just….just batshit!” (Ranger 1) “Oh yeah, don’t talk about digital camo in a bad light around the man either. Hershey-boy was on the Natick lab team that came up with Universal Combat Pattern back in 2004. Everyone knows it sucks unless you’re surrounded by gravel, and that’s why it got replaced so quick by Multicam.” (SecHS Non) “And? Come on, we all make a few mistakes in our professional careers, and we’ve all backed the wrong horse at least once.” (Ranger 3) “Yeah, but the General doubled down and to this very night he refuses to admit it was all one big stupid idea. Once World War Three started, his sentimentality won out, so he pulled his whole ACU set out of the closet, and now he sticks out like a sore thumb on purpose so he can finally live out his dreams of being some kind of Hollywood super-commando from the future! It--” (Ranger 1) “--TO BE FAIR, UCP-Delta wasn’t so bad.” (Ranger 2) “Shut your dumbass up, Langdon, they’re all just bootleg MARPAT anyways. We should’ve just went with All-Over-Brush, now THAT was a--” (Ranger 3) “--Oh my god, this is the THIRD conversation we’ve had about ‘aesthetic soul’ tonight! Look, I wish we’d stuck with ERDL-Lowland, but you can’t always get what you want!” (Langdon) “Yeah, and Multicam proves ♫that if you try sometimes, well you might find, you’ll get what you neeeed!♫ Your thoughts, ‘Homelander?’” (SecHS Non) “Well, when it comes to the classics, it’s Swiss Alpenflage, hands down. Oh go on! Laugh! You think I’d look stupid wearing that in southeast Alaska, but you haven’t seen all the other assholes back home who listened to 4chan /k/ map diagrams. And if you thought UCP was an obvious MARPAT ripoff, you haven’t even seen Pencott Leatherneck! But now that we’re on this topic, I would like to make an OFFICIAL policy statement that Multicam Black is the greatest modern camo. You can quote me on that, you won’t change my mind, and so help me that when this is all over, I’ll make it a mandatory cut for the entire Department of Homeland Security. ATACS Law Enforcement-X is also acceptable, but I’m gonna commit workplace harassment on whoms’tever I catch that’s wearing it.” (Langdon) “You faggot!” (Ranger 2) “Homo.” (Ranger 3) “That’s soooooooooo gay!” (SecHS Non) “Your boo’s mean nothing, you get what the DoD says you get!!” (Ranger 2) “Well, it’s a stupid camo for Hollywood space-cop wannabes. Soooooo, I suppose it’s fine if the Feds use it.” (Ranger 3) “ATACS LE-X is the stupidest pattern ever made in the USA, even compared to Dual-Tex and anything HyperStealth ever made. And you’re talking to someone who’s got 30k invested in them!” (Ranger 2) “Why them? Ain’t Crye Precision a safer bet?” (Ranger 3) “I know this is insider trading, and Mister Non should probably arrest me, but I’ve got a few hot tips on Arfcom that some of the Lilim are interested in acquiring HyperStealth’s shit for their own cop forces, after they take over the world.” (SecHS Non, rubbing his temples) “Oh great, another genius that’s playing both sides. You did that stock-trading on your phone today?” (Ranger 3) “Yeah. I did! Look, if we win, the world’ll be so banged up that the US dollar’s gonna reign supreme like it’s 1946 again. We lose, I’ll get a nice passive income either way.” (SecHS Non) “And if the nukes fly, there won’t be much of an economy to care about anymore anyways.” (Ranger 3) “That’s right! Anyways, what’s the deal with you being here of all places?” (SecHS Non) “......I’m just killing time until Herschel gets back. I need to speak with him face-to-face, as soon as he gets back. …..You guys seen any good movies lately?” 301 28th Avenue North Nashville, Tennessee January 3rd, 20-- 12:55 A.M., Eastern Standard Time Zone (Meanwhile, at the Legion of Doom--I mean, the Parthenon Towers apartment complex rooftop across the park, an elevator door opens, as Azneth & Rehema step out to greet Stacey and Terri.) (Terri) “Took your thick asses long enough.” (Rehema) “Oh, piss off! That was the bloody slowest lift I’ve ever taken in me whole life.” (Azneth) “I’ve been on even slower ones in New York….” (Stacey) “You could’ve just flown up here with those succubus wings that I KNOW you’re hiding under that sports jacket.” (Azneth) “......Alright, I’ll skip to the confession. I can’t fly.” (Terri) “The fuck do you mean you can’t fly?” (Azneth) “I don’t know how, okay! I, um…I never bothered to ask anyone to teach me. Look, I can fly, technically. Just not very well! Instincts can only go so far! It’s too risky anyways, someone’s going to spot me and then we all get blasted by a gunship or a fighter jet if I try it!” (Terri) “Hasn’t happened to ME yet.” (Rehema) “You’re just a bat, Terri. No one’s going to waste a multi-million-pound attack aeroplane on the likes of any of us, save the madame and the Hero. (Terri) “Oh, as for you, you could’ve used those doggy claws of yours to climb up here using the balconies!” (Rehema) ‘DO I LOOK LIKE LARA CROFT TO YOU!?” (Stacey) “I take that as a ‘I don’t know how to scale a building’ answer. By the gods, you Earthers need to go outside more often. And as for Princess Atrophy Wings here, I’m personally telling your mother about this! Bountiful Eros, what kind of a succubus doesn’t bother with learning how to fly after turning twenty? And for that matter, how old ARE you, really? Tell us the truth, ‘Raspberry,’ because I’ve been getting conflicting answers from different people! We’re a team, and I REALLY don’t like having secrets between teammates!” (Azneth) “.......I’m seventy-nine years and four months old. I lie to people who don’t know how many Lilim there are so they can’t put two-and-two together. And I’m insecure about it because I got bullied a lot until I was 60 by my Sabbath friends who kept calling me an old hag……And I’m only telling you all this because my mom recently gave me a good talk about being honest with others before being honest with myself.” (Stacey) “Seriously? I’m older than you by seven years. And who gives a single damn about what those mental midgets who huff cope-fumes all year round about not having real brothers to make incest flipper-babies with, think?” (Terri) “Yeah, Sabbaths are full of assholes who need spiked horse-cocks up their assholes. It’s fine anyways, Our flying recon spot is checked off so long as you’ve got the amazing me!” (Rehema) “Yes, yes, we’re all quite important in one way or another. Thank you for sharing that with us, mi’lady, but back to the mission and all that, so we can move on with our lives. How’s our target?” (Stacey) “He spent some time bullshitting at a well-defended supply depot a few blocks northeast. Then he got escorted to that big…..church-thing over there.” (Rehema) “It’s a near-perfect copy of The Parthenon, one of the most ancient temples on this planet that’s still intact. Originally dedicated to the strategic-war goddess Athena, of the original Greek civilization…….I read about this place in a brochure on my plane trip to Washington last week.” (Stacey) “Strategic war? Ah, so she’s a rear-echelon brotherfucker. Hmph, sounds like Ares could slice her up and spit her out. But why here of all places? Isn’t Greece on the other side of the planet?” (Rehema) “From what I’ve read, the founders of this city were huge fans of antiquity-era Greece, so they put their money and minds together to build this place, and the state’s capitol building, in that particular style as sentimental tributes.” (Terri) “You think he’s in there to pay homage or bargain with this goddess? Oh hell, what if this Athena gives him a Blessing! Look, we’re REALLY going to be in over our heads if we stand against a Hero without your dad around!” (Azneth) “Relax! Unlike Ares, Athena isn’t real. She’s propaganda, totally made up by ancient Athens’ rulers so they could justify their supremacy over the rest of the land by having a cooler patron deity than everyone else. Whatever shrine’s in there is no more dangerous to us than a soiled diaper.” (Rehema) “Got an extra pair of binoculars?” (Terri) “Take mine, I don’t need it. I got echolocation, remember?” (Azneth) “Terri, you are a VERY important asset to me, and I hope you consider me as much of a friend as I do to you. So what happened after my love arrived here?” (Stacey) “He went up to the front door, leaned on a pillar and just started staring……menacingly. Then some weirdo in a sequined spandex onesie talked to him. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the weirdo walked away looking upset. Then Non went into the building through the basement entrance. We lost track of him after that, obviously.” (Terri) “That weirdo’s the building tour guide.” (Stacey) “And just HOW do you know that?” (Terri, showing off her Iphone 13’s screen) “He’s right on the front page of the park’s website. Well now that you two finally got here, how do we proceed now?” (Azneth) “We wait. That replica temple hasn’t got any escape tunnels, does it?” (Rehema) “Not that I’m aware of. The Nashville sewers are also far, far less secure than Washington D.C.’s train-tunnels. They wouldn't be able to build one without some random reporter finding out. The only ways in or out are through the front doors, or the well-defended basement entrance that we can all clearly see from here, or by smashing through the windows in the back, which also should be quite easy to spot by those defenders.” (Azneth) “Alright, here’s how it’s going to be. My sweet Snowman’s going to leave the building, and get into a car, eventually. Terri, you’re going to carry Stacey, and dive towards that car once it starts driving. Let her go at that point. Stacey, you’re going to land on the roof, smash the front windows, and use your mucus to quickly pin his hands to the wheel to keep him from shooting you. At the same time, you need to twist and pull the keys out, then toss them out of the car. The vehicle will slow to a stop, at which point you’ll move his arms to guide the car into an alley. Me and Rehema will cover the entrances and exits. And Terri? You’re going to put that spin-gun to his head and force him to get out.” (Stacey) “Then I pin his limbs to a wall while you fuck his brains out, then his incubus self’s gonna deactivate all those nuclear bombs through that portable supercomputer he’s got.” (Rehema) “Quite right! I’LL help the princess hold him down, while you use your mucus to cover the entire bag, just in case he triggers some sort of time bomb.” (Terri) “Good plan, there’s no way he’ll slide through the four of us all on his lonesome!” (Rehema) “Yes, yes, absolutely. Then we can finally go attend to….our o-own af-fairs.” (Stacey) “Keep your eyes on the Princess’s prize, woofer.” (Azneth) “What are you talking about?” (Stacey) “Rehema’s scoping out that guy cooking a midnight snack in front of that statue by the temple. Huh. He’s been lighting a fire using a trash can. Smart.” (Rehema) “Mmmmmm, he’s cute. I’m doubling back to meet him once we’re done.” (Azneth) “We’ll go with you, We’re staying as a team until we’ve all got husbands to care for. And that goes for Ann and Claudette too. After that, your job is done, and you’ll all be well compensated for your time. Consider it hazard pay.” (Terri) “Thanks, my lady. This’ll all be over soon enough. In the meantime, I suppose we stay up here until Non begins to leave?” (Azneth) “Nope. You and Stacey stay up here. Me and Rehema will go get the car ready for us to follow you two and him. Rehema, hand me the binoculars, I wanna see this catch you’ve found too.” (The lesser succubus takes and peers through the magnified glass towards a statue of John W. Thomas, seeing a black-haired French-looking man wearing olive L.L. Bean Primaloft slip-on shoes, brown Carhartt chinos and a hoodless black Calvin Klein High-Shine puffer jacket over a Gucci black/orange kaleidoscope bowling shirt.) (Azneth) “Odd choices of expensive clothes, and I see a bump under his right armpit. He’s got a gun.” (Rehema) “What do you think? Of the fellow himself.” (Azneth) “He’s rich, or he’s a thief with high-class tastes. A well-groomed five ‘o clock shadow, a smidge of hair gel, an-is he eating chili macaroni? Eww. Well, he’s handsome-looking at least. Please don’t nuzzle him when you pounce, or I’ll call you a furfag for the rest of time.” (Stacey) “It’s easy, wolfie. Just knock him out and then drag him into the nearest cave. Uh, basement, I mean! Oh, you get the point.” (Terri) “Hmph, the guy’s a bit too grizzled-looking for my tastes. Look at his eyes though.” (Azneth) “Yeah, he looks awfully tired.” (Rehema) “......He looks sad.” (Stacey) “All the more reason to take him and let ‘im huff your fluff while you slobber his knobber and all that good stuff you bitches do.” (Azneth) “He’s pulling someth-oh, an alcohol flask. Drinking the pain away, it seems. Yes, please do take him, Rehema. We ARE Mamono, after all. Saving humans from themselves is kind of what we do.” (Rehema) “Yes, I got the point when you surrounded the White House. I just hope he doesn’t see Terri and Stacey’s divebombing, lest he run off in fear for himself.” (Terri) “Uh guys, let’s discuss the rest in a minute, I hear a helicopter coming, and it sounds BIG.” (Rehema) “She’s right, everybody head for the staircase NOW!” (Terri’s echolocation and heightened hearing prove correct, as a Sikorsky King Stallion from the Marine Corps hovers overhead, making a slow approach from the southeast to land in the middle of the sidewalk-roundabout immediately northeast of The Parthenon, guided by a rectangle of ignited 30-minute Orion road flares. The back door opens and the rear ramp descends, with seven Army Rangers, 22 Marine reservists, and Major General Herschel Patterson emerging from the darkness of the cargo hold. A group of forty-one aquatic Mamono spring a trap, immediately bursting from the depths of Lake Watauga. Tossing flashbangs, arachne-silk bolas, spell-enhanced electro-nets, and even opening fire using Demonic Silver-tipped harpoon guns, their attacks are answered by a hail of gunshots from the American soldiers, as the helicopter’s pilot and co-pilot rush to man the side-door GAU-19 minigun that’s facing the lake.) (Patterson and several Rangers start dashing their way to get into The Parthenon, as all but two Marines ignore his orders to break off and retreat. The aquatic Mamono are quickly reinforced by fifteen incubi wearing tactical wetsuits, leading them are two treasonous Navy SEALs, who seize the initiative to steal the helicopter to deny an immediate means of escape for Patterson and Non. The King Stallion’s operators manage to start up the .50 BMG electric chaingun, managing to let rip and slaughter twenty-three of Royal Makai’s minions, before a crack of thunder-like noise erupts across the park, the co-pilot’s head suddenly exploding hardly a second later. The pilot’s helmet visor is now splattered in the brains & blood of his ally, blinding him from being able to see where the gunshot came from. A challenger approaches, as an incubus/monsterwoman sniper team in black uniforms and matching ski masks cheer for their successful hit on target. The incubus pulls back the bolt on their Boys anti-tank rifle to fire another .55-caliber bullet at the pilot, aiming through a welded-on 20x Unertl scope. Another pull of a trigger, and the pilot’s chest is blasted through, killing him almost instantly.) (A state trooper spots the second gunshot, aiming his M27 loaded with a Beta C-Mag towards the sniper position at an Genie telescopic boom lift, across the lake in the parking lot of the Tristar Centennial Medical Center. Looking through his own Burris Trophy Extreme scope, he lets loose a spray of seventy-three bullets before his magazine jams, missing the sniper team, but peppering the parking lot enough for them to take the hint. One of the rogue Navy SEALs and his Sea Bishop wife are both shot to death by the Marine reservists, but the other one and his Selkie lover manage to board the CH-53K through the co-pilot door, helping two Sahuagin get inside to man the miniguns before taking off.) (Now on the floor beneath the roof, Azneth and her team look in horror at the carnage taking place through an empty room’s windows, ducking as a three-round burst of stray bullets from a net-restrained Marine punches through the window-glass, hitting none of them. Rehema tries to ignore Azneth’s vocal regrets of having first-row seats to a siege for the second time in one night, as her eyes stay on the chili-mac eater, who has drawn his machine pistol while behind cover, crouching & peeking around a corner of the Thomas statue.) (Patterson’s defensive perimeter manages to turn back the tide, albeit losing thirteen more men and women to water funnels created by hydromancers within Claudette’s ranks. Her troops quickly retreat with moderate casualties, having failed to neutralize Patterson but succeeding in taking critical equipment from his hands, along with twenty-nine of his forces monster/incubized. Most rush back into the lake, but four leap into the King Stallion as it begins to climb sixty feet before tipping forward to maneuver through the streets, starting with the coincidentally-named Patterson Street on the other side of the park. Or they would have, had the sniper team’s token Mamono not pushed a car-key button that remotely opened the back door of a Isuzu Reach disguised as a FedEx delivery truck, in front of the Centennial Arts Center’s main doors. The back door reveals a FN-6 SAM launcher mounted on a tripod. (As they rush into the medical center to dispose of their disguises, her teammate calls a burner phone set to vibrate, tipping over the dashboard of the Isuzu which tugs a wire that pulls the trigger on the FN-6. The missile blasts off, near-instantly locking onto the King Stallion, hitting it on the side. It fails to penetrate the armor, but manages to destroy three of the six top-rotors, causing the pilot to completely lose control. The SEAL manages to save everyone’s lives by expertly maneuvering the helicopter to crash-land in the open area of the Centennial Sportsplex, skidding across four large empty tennis courts, and slowing down to a stop just before hitting the bleachers of another tennis court.) (The new co-pilot and aquatic monster passengers of the CH-53K quickly break their emergency metamorphosis runes to temporarily transform into bipedal land-lubbers, running out and splitting up to re-meet at a predetermined rendezvous point behind friendly lines, as two of the mermaids retch into a trash can from a combination of the mangled dead bodies onboard and the near-death experience they just had. A Nashville PD-commandeered Robinson R66 arrives and shines a spotlight through the area, catching only one Marrow and gunning her down, before an Holstaur cowgirl in turn appears and takes cover behind a bleacher, firing on the cockpit with an entire tube’s worth of handloaded .45-70 from her Marlin 1895, killing the gunner and destroying several instruments including the spotlight controls.) (The pilot decides that the area is too hot, and suddenly realizes that with a shot-out radio and no gunner to report in, nothing is really stopping him from pulling a Brad Vickers. So he takes the M249 from his gunner and pushes the corpse out, before heading straight south into the night. General Patterson screams over the radio in an attempt to flag the pilot down, not knowing that he’s yelling to empty static. He pulls out his personal six-inch barreled Colt Anaconda, firing all six rounds of .44 Magnum at the deserting helicopter, failing to significantly damage it.) (As the park-turned-battlefield returns to another calm before a storm, Terri gets up and turns to Azneth.) (Terri) “Hel, what a bloodbath. Someone tell Claudette what just happened.” (Azneth) “Soon! Non and that general HAVE to know by now that our pincers are closing in fast. He’ll try and move faster. Let’s get out of here and move into position. Go, go, go!” (At that same time, Patterson and his Rangers enter The Parthenon, heading into the command room to regain their bearings in safety. They walk in to find the guarding Rangers standing at their posts, while Non sits at the base of Athena’s statue and starts clapping his hands.) (SecHS Non) “Jolly good show out there, lads! Major General Patterson, I presume? Boy are you a sight for sore eyes, and I don’t mean your uniform. Been a hot minute since I’ve had any real command staff to talk to.” (Patterson) “Mister Secretary, welcome to the party! And it’s Adjutant-General now. I apologize for making you wait, but I had to personally attend a rescue operation to the southeast. Long story short, I do believe the Black Panther’s leadership is cut off.” (SecHS Non) “Define ‘cut off’? (Patterson) “As in confirmed kills on every one of their chief lieutenants, except that Sphinx honcho herself. I received actionable intelligence from an inside source that Van Carver vouched for, and we busted down the doors right on time to pull some jarheads out of the fire. But after what just fuckin’ happened outside, it’s clear that our perimeter isn’t as good as it looks, and that whole thing might’ve been a trap within a trap..” (He turns on his radio.) “Colonel Allen, I need four counter-sniper teams on the Parthenon roof, covering each corner. I KNOW we don’t have any ladders tall enough, so use grappling hooks and rope! Those redcoat traitors are specifically targeting our cargo air assets--” (SecHS Non) “--Definitely trying to keep any VIPs like us from hauling ass outta here fast.” (Patterson) “Yeah, what he said. See if you can enlist any friendly flying freaks to lend a hand as well. And get the Navy on the line, tell them I need a P-8 to drop at least three depth charges on Lake Watauga. AG Herschel out!” “So, what the hell brings you here of all places tonight, hockey-punk?” (SecHS Non) “I’ve got two reasons for being here. One, I wanted to take a nice look at the statue in here. This building’s been on my travel bucket list for a while.” (Patterson) “Ah, you wanted to take a nice look before this place and the OG in Athens get bombed into marble chunks. Fair enough. But I have to ask, you’re in charge of Homeland Security. Now, I don’t know if the new Cabinet gave you a rundown, but you’re supposed to be out there doing something to secure the homeland, as the title implies. Still, I can see why you’d want to see the place. She’s a real beaut, this statue of Athena here.” (SecHS Non) “.....It sure is. Some real nice styling done to the shield, reminds me a lot of my fiance. Don’t tell her I ever said this, but Athena’s helmet is cooler. Nice touch with the giant snake as well. Really adds an all-American “don’t tread on us” vibe to it. But what’s with the angel in her hand? (Patterson) “That’s Nike, the Greek goddess of victory. It’s awe-inspiring the first time you see it, but it’s hard for me to look at this without thinking of my grandson…..” (SecHS Non) “......H-he died in Iraq or Afghanistan, didn’t he? The statues remind you of how both those places were Alexander The Great’s playground. History’s most successful Greek, yet.” (Patterson) “Wha--no! The worst my grandson’s had was a transfer to Joint Base Lewis-McChord after he blew out his right kneecap for rucking too hard at Ramstein! No, this reminds me of how my daughter-in-law caught him jacking off to Nike & Athena, the hot ones with nice tits from some arena video game called Smitten or something.” (Langdon)” It’s just called Smite, sir.” (Patterson) “Yeah, that. Herschel the 3rd’s got good taste in his cartoon women, never understood all the hubbub on them though. Then again, I got into the Army about twenty years after hot chick pin-up art on all our equipment got banned. Guess that shit’s coming back in vogue, hundred-year fashion cycles and all that. That being said, you really ought to meet up with your own agency. They’re on lockdown last I heard, and we could sure use whatever help they can bring.” (SecHS Non) “All in due time, Adjutant General. I’ll be seeing the local branch office here when I’m through with you and the Governor. What’s our status on the city? Battle lines and all that. (Patterson) “Major Harris, if you could pull out the third map from the top of the main table?” (The Marine complies. Non takes a look at the county-wide map to see that downtown is still mostly a green zone, with a blue circle around the train station that The Order is said to be operating from, the red zone covering known areas under Royal Makai control, white zones under the Black Panthers, and yellow under Conway’s D.C. loyalists. Patterson takes out an erasable highlighter to add more green zone to the south, taking away from the white zone. He then adds a little more red zone to the east, with a large black X marking a spot.) “The Sphinx tried to lure us out by using her lieutenants as bait in case we decided to leave those Marines to dry, in an ambush at the Green Hills Mall down over here. But she didn’t know that we already knew it would be a trap. You should’ve seen the looks on their faces when we came out with L.A.W.’s, AT-4’s, and a Mark 19 already locked and loaded. I think we blasted half of the mall to pieces by the time we pulled out! Anyone else trying to escape by vehicle either got shredded by the fifty-cal MG’s on my now-deceased helo, or they were strafed by some of our remaining fixed-wing assets.” “But everything’s still pretty chaotic on the west side. Lots of enlisted boys and girls, reservists too, all trying to join the fight that don’t know that we and Conway have a falling-out. We’re split almost in half, but once we drive her out of the county, or tread on her, we can rope those troops back in to mount an offensive to out curbstomp the Panthers, then do a blitz of our own on the airport. We’ll wipe out the Lilim command structure too. Unlike us, Royal Makai’s got a far more informal chain of command. We take out a few top ladies, their whole army falls apart and turns into every woman or couple for themself. Shows what you get when you run a legion of mercenaries with extra steps.” (SecHS Non) “But of course, the Hero puts a wrench in this whole machine. So it looks like Mr. Double-Universe is making you piss your pants too, huh? I don’t blame you, you saw the shit he did on the White House lawn?” (Patterson) “I sure did, son. Anyone that can walk off a direct smack from an M982 Excalibur, goes straight to the top of my priority list. Current intel, that black X, indicates that he’s mucking around the edge of west Glencliff, plugging defensive holes before we can exploit them to take back any territory over there. And once he’s out of holes, no doubt he’ll haul ass straight for Luc. The Order will buy us some time once I misdirect the demi-god to their spot, but after that, it might as well be game over if the Demon Lord thinks that Luc’s bluffing. Word’s trickled through the grapevine that the Air Force is planning something special for ‘He-Man, Master of the Universe’, but I’m not happy that they’re using MY men as bait to draw him out into the open. …..He came here following you, didn’t he, son?” (SecHS Non) “.....He did. The President gave me a mission to take The Football and get out of D.C., to buy everyone entrenched at Whiskey Hotel more time by luring out their heaviest hitters with OUR heaviest hitter. Well, now I’ve got the Ultimate Hero, one of the weaker Lilim, and some kind of hand-picked strike team all running around this town with the specific intent to hunt my ass down. So the plan worked--” (Patterson) “--And our fair city drew the short stick. You’d have had a better chance if you went to Chicago, y’know.” (SecHS Non) “Well, I’m sorry, but I DIDN’T KNOW THAT, UNTIL I WAS ALREADY HERE, AND MY RIDE TOOK OFF! …...Are you still interested to know reason number two the easy way, or the hard way?” (Patterson) “Just cut the bullshit and lay it out. I’m pretty busy tonight, if you were too retarded to tell.” (SecHS Non) “Alright, here it is.” (He pulls out and unfolds the forged executive order he had printed and ‘signed’ earlier.) “I’ve got orders signed off by President Delvecchio and General Atlee Hoboken themselves, in which they specifically state that Luc Van Carver is now operating without any decent restraint, totally beyond the pale of any acceptable human conduct--” (Patterson) “--Those pencilnecks at the Pentagon think I wouldn’t recognize an Apocalypse Now quote when I hear it?” (SecHS Non) “Look man, I’m just the messenger on this. Information was too sensitive for a regular courier or e-mail, but since I was already in town, Jimmy D tasked me with this. So the dealio is that the entire Tennessee Military Department, or what’s left of it, is now officially federalized, to be put into effect immediately upon you finishing reading this, and all authority transferred to--” (Patterson) “Give me that! What in the nine hells is Hoboken smoking, thinking that I can just--” “--ANSWER TO LORRAINE CONWAY UNTIL PERSONALLY RELIEVED BY THE PRESIDENT, ARMY CHIEF OF STAFF, OR SECRETARY OF DEFENSE!? FUCK THAT ALBINO REPTILE! YOU CAN GET ANOTHER RIDE BACK TO WASHINGTON AND TELL THEM THEY CAN KISS MY ASS AND GARGLE MY WRINKLY BALLSACK!” (SecHS Non) “Sooooo, you’re disobeying a direct order. …..It’s treason, then.” (The Major General deploys and points his Anaconda right at Non’s face, cocking the hammer down.) (Patterson) “Oh, yes it is. Luc’s one of my best friends. I'd follow that man onto Omaha Beach AND the summit of Iwo Jima if he told me he had good plans for there. And he’s got the vision to put this state on the global map, even if it means going full Sam Houston-mode. So you folks can take me and my troops from us by our cold, dead hands. You’ve been patient and respectful in coming here, so I’m giving you one chance to get the fuck out of here. Nashville’s Injun Territory now, hockey-punk. We’re gonna succeed where Aaron Burr and ol’ Jeff Davis failed. D.C.’s hours are numbered, and if they wanna flex their nuts over a backup stronghold of a state as their fallback point, go cry about it to Kentucky or Alabama.. Conway’s head’ll be on a pike in two days time, same goes for the Sphinx and that cow at the airport.” “Soooo, you’re going to walk out of here, you’re going to leave this state, you’re going to tell that New Jersey fuckwad just where he can stick it, and you’re going to get that Hero and his minions outta here by virtue of them, following YOU.” (SecHS Non) “And what makes you think the Lilim aren’t going to waltz in later, snap their fingers, click their ruby slippers three times, and turn this whole city into a Demonic Realm?” (Patterson) “That’s not happening, no sir-ree. You wanna know how and why? Go ask Van Carver himself. He’s still open for negotiations, and he’s more than happy to show his leverage off to anyone with top authority. You wanna be the Joint Chiefs’ assigned fixer? Go out and run that errand. I’ll be escorting you outside. I need tell that gumbo thief in the puffer jacket to get the fuck out of my park anyways, bitch thinks we didn’t see him through the ride’s window.” “Come on, Snowman, let’s get you out of here.” (The two-star general and the Secretary head down the stairs back into the ex-musuem, back to the tourist entrance.) (SecHS Non) “So, I guess I can’t have any supplies?” (Patterson) “.....You can have two STANAG mags, that’s it.” (Non reaches into a box and takes them.) (SecHS Non) “So, how long did it take you to get through Ranger school? You don’t get the tan beret without putting the work in, as far as I know.” (Patterson) “Ahahahahaha, no time at all! After my time at Natick, I cashed in a favor to get assigned as an instructor in the ARTB at Fort Benning. Turns out that being a teacher for that school is enough to earn the tan. You even get to wear them just for being in a unit joint-assigned to the 75th for at least one straight year.” (SecHS Non) “Yeah, I remember your name coming up a few times when I read your pal Poitier’s tell-all book about the Army universal camo trials. So what’s it really like to develop a whole new form of uniform?” (Patterson) “Ahhh, that’s just rumors. I had nothing to do with the group that put together the ACU uniform cut itself. Army Chief of Staff Shinseki assigned me to oversee the development team for the Universal Combat Pattern camouflage. Think of my team as the software developers, while Poitier was with the hardware group.” (SecHS Non) “You ever regretted signing off on that project. Major General?” (Patterson) “Fuck no! It got me into the hallowed hall of the Army’s history books, even if it’s for infamy. You civilians just weren’t ready for the future, and the future’s all-digital. Besides, I didn’t approve of it because I got bribed or something, I approved the project because M81 Woodland needed a good replacement, tricolor desert sucks ass against night-vision, and I correctly predicted that the Hindu Kush would be the next hotspot. You have to admit that UCP excelled in that AO. It’s not MY fault that most of our division commanders were too stupid to realize that it’s not supposed to be used clean in forests, that they didn’t dirty their uniforms up like they were supposed to, or that the bean counters bulk-bought cheap-ass Chinese detergents that made the outfits glow in the dark if you saw ‘em with night-vision goggles!” (SecHS Non) “And what'dya do before Natick? I heard from Hoboken and Menendez that you were in Desert Storm, and some of my friends in the French government have spoken highly of you, but I never asked for details. Until now” (Patterson) “Well, my military career started in ROTC at John Overton High, deep in the south central part of this town. Shame they started renovating everything about five years after I graduated. When I came back, I might as well have been a stranger there. I got a full-ride scholarship into West Point for being the best cadet at Jay-O, and I graduated from there in 1991, right on time for Desert Shield. I got assigned as an attache to France because I took a few classes in that language, and they made me a liaison to then-Commandant Pierre Andrepont, what a character he was. I fought with him and his Foreign Legionnaires through Iraq, Rwanda, the Congo, and that whole messy clusterfuck of Yugoslavia’s meltdown.” (SecHS Non) “Officially, we were never involved in the Congo….” (Patterson) “Officially, we only sent neutral observers, besides UN peacekeepers. On paper, I was just on phone operator duty at his FOB.” (SecHS Non) “And in practice, you were just as knee-deep in the dead as Pierre and his boys.” (Patterson) “As far as they thought, I WAS one of the boys. Andy-pont even tried to have me declared an honorary Legionnaire when I got transferred back to the States, bless his war-junkie heart and may he rest in power. But we couldn’t get that done without revealing my combat record in the Congo as well as the….not-even-remotely-legal actions we all took down there as a group. After 9/11, I got sent back here, and put in charge of the ROTC unit at John Overton, right back where I started. Then in late ‘03, I pulled strings to get a transfer to Natick, and the rest is all on public record. At least Jacques Chirac’s administration was gracious enough to give me basic French citizenship as a consolation prize. Along with 200,000 laundered bucks in never-ever-talk-to-the-press money.” (SecHS Non) “Well, at least something good came out of that mess. A real shame about Pierre anyways. That Lisbon Terror-Wave practically annihilated the Mediterranean’s best of the best. Can’t believe it’s already been five years. I was still in FEMA back then, and even I lost a few friends.” “But back to your camouflage magnum opus, I get it. I mean, you know what they say, foolproof plans are only as proofed as the fools you expect, not the fools you get. And I spoke with Mayor Conway about forty minutes ago. She hasn’t left town yet, and she’s open to a compromise.” (Patterson) “I’m not authorized to make that kind of call, as much as I’d like to put a 225-grain Hornady through her brain. That’s between her, Luc, and the SecDef. …..I see you’ve got a Double Eagle. Jesus, I haven’t seen one of those since I went to an EZ Pawn shop back in 2020 to get…..aw hell, what was it? “Oh yeah, it was a replacement golf putter! So I walked out with the putter, a 50-inch Toshiba TV, and an acoustic guitar for my wife. That Colt was going for four grand, so I passed it over. Not my first choice in a pistol, but you’ve got a Mark 2, so it’s not a bad choice either. A shame Colt completely went to shit in 2004, it’s embarrassing that they’re run by Czech soyboys now. All those FN Herstal lobbyists rubbed me the wrong way back then, and still do to this very day. God, I hate Belgium. The Sour-Krauts didn’t gas them hard enough in World War One if you ask me.” (SecHS Non) “You’re speaking to the choir. Yeah, so I’ve cut deals with Steyr, General Dynamics, Honeywell, Kalashnikov USA, among others, but I’m not in anyone’s pocket. I work WITH them, not FOR them. Major difference there. I’m strictly quid pro quo. I land them good contracts, they give me money, off-the-books shipping & handling for certain items that I don’t want the Black Budget bean counters to know about, and I open doors for good connections. I had a 120K-a-year warehouse supervision job lined up for my little brother with Northrup-Grumman, had he decided not to go to college when he graduates twelfth grade next May. Or should I say IF he graduates. And as for me, I already had an offer on the table to join the RAND Corporation’s board of directors after the next administration gave me the boot. Would’ve kept me busy until I turned 35 and made a bid for the Oval Office myself.” (Patterson) “I guess a silver lining to all this is that we can get rid of Common Core and make a better curriculum to separate the future STEM nerds from the future Starbucks baristas. Maybe we can go back to making college too pricey for anyone that isn’t already rich, forcing all the poor folks to have to ‘Be All That You Can Be’ for a free ride.” (SecHS Non) “....That’s IF there’s still an America to have a SecEd to make that decision.” (Patterson) “....Yeah. Well, as my wife said when her brother got filthy rich off of investing in GMC back in 2010, ‘The biggest losers in a crisis aren’t the folks who prepare for the worst and find out the situation is even more worse. It’s the folks who wasted their chance preparing for the worst when they should’ve also made plans for the best-case scenarios.’ And it’s--Hey! You there! I thought I told you to get lost! I wasn’t just talking about the temple! You wanna go be a punk shoplifter, you’re gonna do it out of this park!” (The man who’s caught Rehema’s eye turns around, having just finished his very late dinner by throwing away his empty tray and used utensils. He puts his hands up, then walks over to the rest of his possessions.” (Chili Mac Enjoyer) “Alright, alright, I’m packing up! Jesus, you take ONE bag of Mountain House beef & chili mac, and everybody loses their minds! What ARE you dickheads, the Wal-Mart loss prevention squad?” (Patterson) “Well, hockey-punk, I’ll leave you to your meeting with Luc. Good luck, and tell Conway I said she can go suck-start a shotgun next time you see her.” (Non walks up to the ration-eater, getting off of a bench labeled “EXECUTIVE” on its backside.) (SecHS Non) “Need a hand?” (Ration-eater) “No, no I’m good. You’re….. that young guy who’s on the National Security Council, right? I saw you on the news during the new president’” (SecHS Non) “Up until a few hours ago, I was the top guy ON that council. Secretary of Homeland Security Non at your service, citizen.” (The Alaskan moves to shake the other man’s hand, who reciprocates. The two start walking eastwards across the park.) (Ration-eater) “.....Duncan Desmoine. Former assistant dorm supervisor of Dogwood Hall, University of Tennessee.” (SecHS Non) “Former? How do you even get fired from being an assistant? What, were you swiping pricy liquor and beef jerky when you thought no one was looking?” (Desmoine) “Nah, it’s because the dorm doesn’t exist anymore. I shit you not, a one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people-rapist went Godzilla mode and smashed the building to bits. I’m kind of in a transitory period now.” (SecHS Non) “That’s rough, buddy. So everything you own is on your back?” (Desmoine) “Not really, just what I own all on my own. I COULD go back home to Baton Rouge, but that’s a whole ‘nother can of worms.” (SecHS Non) “Jeez, even your car got got?” (Desmoine) “Oh, THAT got commandeered by these two random assholes yesterday. So check it, I was headin’ west on I-40, never mind you why I was in Memphis when this all started, when I’m crossing that bridge over the Tennessee River. A convoy on it had just gotten strafed by an A-10 or something, so I slowed down to bob and weave around all the wreckage. Then out from behind a flipped Suzuki Equator, this guy pops up and flags me down, claiming to be an ‘international weapons inspector.’ And he was bride-carrying a mermaid, who whips out a goddamn .50 caliber Deagle from her purse! So she gave me twenty seconds to grab what I could and get out of my car.” “So I did! They sped off, and I wound up havin’ to walk all the way to the nearest marina, where I hitched a ride in the back of a F-150 all the way back to my dorm in Knoxville, right in the middle of it getting stomped. Then I hitched another ride on a bus full of Mad Max cosplayers that stopped at the Opry-house. So I stole a bicycle and stopped here for supplies, then Patterson gave me the boot and confiscated my bike! Once this all blows over, I’m going to New York. And I’m going to hold the Secretary-General of the United Nations hostage until the blue helmets gimme my car back! That was a vintage 2000 Nissan Skyline! I mean, why me!? I never riced it or stanced it, it came with the matching spoiler, I only did one single street-race over in Shreveport just to say I’ve done it, I only have two traffic violations on my record, both for running red lights! I never even drifted in it, it’s a fucking automatic!” (SecHS Non) “Why would you even get a Skyline if you weren’t going to go manual and live out every Tokyo Drift fan’s wet dreams?” (Desmoine) “I wanted a cheap sports car and it was only 16 grand at the DriveTime on the southwest edge of Knoxville.” (SecHS Non) “ONLY sixteen grand!” (Desmoine) “Yeah, my family’s kinda ballin’, if you haven’t noticed the clothes!” (SecHS Non) “Oh please, I saw those exact same jackets sold for fifty bucks at Burlington Coat Factories ten years ago. And L.L. Bean shoes are two-hundred-fifty at most these days.” (Desmoine) “All right, fine. The truth then. Most of my clothes are hand-me-downs from my dad, since we’re the same height and he got too fat for these.” (SecHS Non) “So you Cajuns really ARE just as short as your escargot forefathers.” (Desmoise) “5’9 is only short in Scandinavia and sub-Saharan Africa, jackass. It’s normal-height everywhere else! And before you call me nouveau-riche, I’d like to state that that’s mighty big talk coming from someone with a SCAR rifle.” (SecHS Non) “Bah, this is basically a rental. My normal rifle’s a Steyr G62.” (Desmoine) “So where is it?” (SecHS Non) …..Rusting at the bottom of that mini-lagoon next to the Pentagon. Long story, I had to jump out of a Bell Jetranger before it crashed. The rifle sling slipped off of me, and the G62 sank like a rock.” (Desmoine) “Oof, bet a cannonball into the water from that height must’ve hurt like hell.” (SecHS Non) “Nah, I jumped at almost the last second, so I didn’t fall for long. I still have my other piece too, a Colt Double Eagle.” (Desmoine) “What’s a Double Eagle?” (SecHS Non) “It was Colt’s attempt to barge in on the double-action/single-action craze back around 1989. Take a look for yourself right here. So it’s a 1911 that’s basically got a Rube Goldberg device inside that lets it do double-action shooting too. The first model sucked ass, but the Mark 2 model was good, which this is one of. Serial number dates it to November ‘95.” “But it was too little, too late. It got eclipsed quick by the entire catalog of Para-Ordnance, not to mention that it didn’t compete so well against the Ruger P90, Smith & Wesson’s 45-oh-6, and the HK USP, among a few others. So it got discontinued in ‘97. It’s honestly more of a custom piece, since I replaced almost all the 1911-compatible internal parts. I would’ve gone with a Caspian Arms set of parts, but EGW had a big sale on that year’s Black Friday.” (Desmoine) “You don’t look like the kind of guy who outta worry about sales….” (SecHS Non) “I had just finished grad school back then.” (Desmoine) “OH! Okay, that’s fair. I just did too, last month. Funny, MY heater’s dated to February 1996, not far off. Small world, huh?” (SecHS Non) “Don’t tell me it’s a Delta Elite….” (Duncan unbuttons his jacket from the top, stopping at the middle button. He then reaches in with his left hand, un-snapping his firearm from a modified Galco shoulder holster, then pulls out a gray Steyr SPP with an EOTECH 558 mounted on top. ) (SecHS Non) “.....Are you insane?” (Desmoine) “Big talk for someone who doesn’t have a front grip on his guns either. Ain’t no lagniappe on your shit, you’re all factory-stock.” (SecHS Non) “Like I said, the SCAR’s a rental. I haven’t got the time to find a workbench and go to town on it. My Colt’s got Trijicon night-sights, and there’s enough fires in this city to light up the night for plenty of miles in every direction.” (Desmoine) “Aahhhhh, I’m just fuckin’ with’cha, bon ami. This holographic sight’s a one-x, so it’s ain’t really much bettah’ than iron sights. You’re probably wonderin’ how I got my beautiful hands on this cher--” (SecHS Non) “-- I sure as hell am. Lemme guess, your old man bought it for you as a graduation gift?” (Desmoine) “Nah, I swiped it FROM my pa last month. Asshole always made ME dust off his gun collection, so without me around, he didn’t notice anything was missin’ ‘till ♫the end of the woooorld as we know it!♫ Ahahaha, I wonder what the look on his face was, when he found out that I gave the pool house’s spare key and the gun room code to mah buddy Ernie Montoya! Aw, he and his posse musta’ cleaned the whole room out in 20 minutes flat, I tell ya ‘hwat.” (SecHS Non) “I see. Well, I wasn’t talking about the gun itself being insane, I meant that running around with a nine-millimeter these days is like bringing a Nerf football to the Super Bowl. I’ve been involved in anti-extraterrestrial interdictions for most of last year, and I saw firsthand that 9mm only does the job against the really weak ones. Like the insect-women. Especially the devil bugs.” (Desmoine) “Oh, bleugh, that sounds fuckin’ nasty. I’ve got a bunch of personal problems to deal with before I’d consider myself ready to settle down, but if you had to make me choose, I’d probably take one of them cute fluffy dog-women.” (SecHS Non) “I’m already engaged to a total angel, but I have to know….why canids?” (Desmoine) “......I never got to have a real pet, growin’ up. Momma’s allergic to cats and mah dad just never liked dogs in general. They do keep a bunch of fish though, but that just ain’t the same. Sometimes I’d head over to the nearest Petco, or the local pound, just to clear my head when classes got tough by playing with cute canines. I was gonna look into buyin’ a wolfdog after I got my own real home to call my own, but that plan’s done shot to shit now.” (SecHS Non) “And now here we are. So what’s next for you?” (Desmoine) “I’m gonna find a new comfy bench away from all the action, that’s what I’m gonna do. You coming along?” (SecHS Non) “Seems that you’re headed in the same direction as me. I’ll tag along until you find that bench.” (Desmoine) “Then what’s your move after that?” (SecHS Non) “I’m going into the eye of the storm to have a very serious talk with the Governor of this not-so-fine state. Have you been around there?” (Desmoine) “I sure have. You ought to coordinate a different rendezvous. Trust me, you DON’T want to go deeper into downtown.” (SecHS Non) “And why would I not want to go deeper?” (Desmoine) “Well it’s…it’s uhhhhh, it’s just that….” “You ever heard stories about how…..lewd…..Nawlins’ gets when college folks roll in during all them big festivals?” (Non nods his head in agreement.) “Well, you see, innermost-downtown Nashville’s done turned into a Mardi Gras ghetto roach motel on steroids. And I mean the 1980s bodybuildin’ type a’ steroids. Lots of people of all shapes and sizes that have clearly suffah’d from maladjusted psychological development in their growin’ years. Lotta folks that really ought to have court-appointed therapy sessions, if you’re catching my drift.” (SecHS Non) “Get to the point, Mister Desmoine. I do the lie-by-omission cryptic bullshit around here. So the freaks come out at night, as prophesied by Whodini. Tell me something I HAVEN’T figured out by now.” (Desmoine) “It’s a bunch of demented orgies. That’s all I really gotta say on that. I ran my raggedy ass over here the second after one of those mice-women invited me to fuck her in the ass while her own brother takes a crack at her womb. And I ain’t about that shit, either incest OR threesomes. I’ve bought my way into enough frat house ragers to know that ye olde ‘menage a trois’ never ends well.” (SecHS Non) “Good man. Monogamy’s always the best bet for sane people like us.” (Desmoine) “I like the cut a’ ya jib, blondie. So how’d this all happen, if you’re at liberty to say? Because it’s pretty obvious that these aliens were plannin’ this for a while, and I’m not naive enough to think that every single three-letter agency got caught with their pants down.” (SecHS Non) “As far as NASA knows, they’ve been aware of our planet since at least 2010. Long story short, we know because their scrying magic is what’s been causing all those little disruptions in the plasmasphere. The NRO thinks it’s only been going on for about two and a quarter years, but I’ve been helping Cape Canaveral do a cover-up on that. The disruptions have been influencing the stellar winds that go around the Earth, so we used the STEREO-A satellite to do particle experiments to figure out when the first disruptions came around, using some complicated spectroscopy that nailed the disruptions down to October 31st of that year.” (Desmoine) “So a world of monsters found out about us on a Halloween …..some higher power went and played a pretty sick joke on us!” (SecHS Non) “Their succubus-in-chief IS a higher power, for all intents and purposes. So yeah, they’ve been watching us for twenty-one years and two months before finally putting a full-scale effort into breaching the….. barriers of reality to make magic wormholes straight from point there to point here.” (Desmoine) “So what took them so long to make up their minds on coming here or not?” (SecHS Non) “A Hail Mary play, in a nutshell. So they took over their whole world, incubized every man, killed their Demon Lord’s competitors, and sent the last of that Chief God’s Order scurrying like roaches, waiting for an opportunity.” (Desmoine) “And that opportunity’s us. Yeah, I’ve passed by a few of their street-preachers earlier today, trying to recruit humans, or at least rile us up into executing every ‘Mamono’ we can find. I wanted to go up in their faces and tell them that if they hate monsterchicks so much, why don’t they do it themselves? But I’ll be honest, I pussied out. I got scared that they’d stab with those crazy-looking swords just for giving them lip. I should’ve just shot that last one in the back. I should’ve done….SOMETHING!” “God, it makes me sick! All of it. Those psychos are off preying on the lost a-and confused to turn ‘em into….cannon-fodder, for lack of a better phrase. We’re getting bombed to the Stone Age bit-by-bit by that chickenhawk Patterson, everybody’s turning into sex freaks, my sister got turned into a Demon and she’s been blowing up my phone to rub it in my face that she’s got magic powers and I don’t! I’m homeless, carless, I haven’t showered or changed my clothes in three days, I just found out I’m outgunned, and I’m probably gonna shit my brains out in a few hours once I finish digesting that chili mac! Everything’s going to shit, and nobody’s doing anything right about it! Everybody’s just going fuck-you-got-mine!” (SecHS Non) “I am. You can bet your ass that I’m gonna help clean up this mess once I’m through with Van Carver!” (Desmoine) “You might be Mr. Big Stuff with your department, man, but you’re still just one guy up against all those monsters! Just how far do you really think that you can get?” (SecHS Non) “On my own? Not very far at all, I won’t lie. But whether I die or get brainwashed, at least I’ll go out knowing that I tried.” (Desmoine) “But how? What the fuck can we even do?” (SecHS Non) “Are you just being rhetorical and wanting me to tell you what you want to hear? Or are you being serious, and willing to hear some cold, hard facts?” (Desmoine) “.......I’m listening.” (SecHS Non) “Find legitimately evil pricks who’re taking advantage of all this chaos.” (Desmoine) “Then what?” (SecHS Non) “Kill ‘em. Nooses, guns, blades, your bare hands, use whatever tools you’ve got. Just get the job done and don’t be a sadist when the clock’s ticking fast.” (Desmoine) “Don't let myself get attached to anything I ain’t willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat when I feel the heat around the corner?” (SecHS Non) “Ahahahahaha! Yeah, something like that! So what did you steal that made the Desert Storm vet so mad? NOBODY gets THAT mad over a single Wal-Mart MRE.” (Desmoine) “I walked in without permission to swipe a few TMP magazines from their stockpile. I should’ve done the smart thing, should’ve just taken some ammo and a rifle. In and out, faster than a peregrine falcon. But I got greedy. I wasted too much time digging through the ration containers to grab as much of the good stuff as I could. The general himself walked in on me, pistol-whipped me in the gut and threw me out. Too bad that asshole didn’t know I already took four pre-loaded mags and slipped that one chili mac bag in my jacket pockets. (The two men have by now arrived at the Centennial Park Bandshell. A couch stands alone on the stage, long with a recently-opened bag of popcorn left behind by another transient.) (Desmoine) “Oh come one, who does that? Who leaves behind a perfectly good bag of popcorn?” (Non flicks the safety off of his rifle and shoulders it.) (SecHS Non) “Someone who’s setting up a trap!” (The jig now up, Terri swoops in from the sky, firing all six revolver chambers around Non in an attempt to box him in. The Alaskan fires off five rounds of 5.56, two of which puncture the Werebat’s wing membrane. Her abilities as a monster immediately begin a healing process on said membrane, but it’s not fast enough for her to regain aerial superiority. She dives and rolls upon impacting the ground on the other side of the building, as Stacey peeks from the south wall to line up and fire two shells of demonically-energized buckshot, but Duncan spots her and ducks, letting off twelve rounds of 9mm that impact the wall but fail to penetrate it.) (Desmoine) “Friends of yours?!” (SecHS Non) “Not by a long shot! They’re some kind of spec-ops team sent in to bag me!” (Desmoine) “Who sent ‘em, Hot Topic?” (SecHS Non) “They work for the Lilim, the alien overlords! Run for it!” (As Terri rolls to hide behind a trash bin to avoid Non’s gaze, Stacey circles the building to link back up with her teammate while getting onto the radio to inform the others as to which direction their target is headed. The Cajun & the Eskimo sprint to the end of the park, crossing 25th Avenue North to run along the sidewalk of Brandau Place, Non taking point while Desmoine turns every so often to fire a few potshots to maintain distance from their pursuers. At the corner of 24th Avenue North, Rehema and Azneth improvise another trap, attempting to ram them with the Subaru. Non jumps out of the way as Desmoine lets off four rounds into the hood, failing to do any real damage to the car, but succeeding in spooking the Anubis enough to swerve & miss the both of them, as she slams the gas instead of the brake and drives right into the southeasternmost entrance of the Centennial SportsPlex ice skating rink. She slams the brakes, but the SUV is already on the thick ice, causing them to spin completely out of control and crash the back of their car into the bleachers on the other side. Neither of the women are badly hurt, and the two quickly exit their vehicle.) (Azneth) “AN ICE RINK? HE JUKED US INTO AN ICE RINK!?” (Rehema) “Bloody hell, my toe-beans are freezing! Grab my tail, I’ll get us off of this! (Stacey proceeds to chase the men on foot alone, pushing her way through a group of looters rushing across the street towards Azneth and Rehema’s now-totaled car. But Non is saved once again, as an M3A4 Bradley appears from 23rd Avenue North, heading southbound. Desmoine and Non wave at the Cavalry Fighting Vehicle, which stops and turns its turret in their direction. The two stop like deer in the headlights of a semi-truck doing 85 mph, as the coaxial M240C machine gun proceeds to open fire. Non yells at Desmoine to drop on the ground, and tackles him anyways. A stream of 7.62x51 bullets shreds the looting crowd, as Stacey uses an Ant-Arachne as a not-so-human shield while she speedily leaps into the basement-garage at 217 24th Avenue North.) (Terri’s wings have finished healing by now, so she flies up onto the roof of the apartment complex at 2312 Ellison Place, watching Non’s next move. The back door of the Bradley is deployed, and Terri reloads to fire another six rounds, this time at the squad that emerges to help Non. She misses every shot. One soldier spots her, and yells to the vehicle’s driver to warn him about Terri, who ducks before the CFV can finish turning its turret towards her. As the half-squad helps Non & Desmoine up, the master sergeant in command of the unit pipes up.) (MS) “Ha-haaa! I told you waste-oids we’d make it on time! Congrats, ‘Homelander’! You just got yourself a free ticket to ride the ‘Second To None’ Express! Hop on!” (Non and Desmoine walk up the ramp, only for one of the squad-members, a U.S. Marshal wearing a riot-shielded MICH helmet pushes back Duncan with her baton.) (Marshal) “I’m really sorry about this, citizen! But we’ve only got room for one more, and you’re not an HVT!” (Desmoine) “Fine, fine! I get it! Guess I’ll be seeing you around, Non!?” (SecHS Non) “You can bet your ass I will! You’re still serious about cleaning up the country?” (Desmoine) “I always was!” (SecHS Non) “Good! Get on over to this city’s Homeland Security branch, and tell ‘em I sent you! You wanted a new job, you got one! But there’s just one more thing to ask though.” (Desmoine) “What!?” (SecHS Non) “You got any smokes!?” (Duncan’s eyes light up and his nervous smile becomes a full grin. He reaches into his backpack’s smallest pocket, pulling out a smushed-up pack of blue Lucky Strikes. He pops the top to find that there’s only two cancer sticks left, pushing one out with his fingers for Non to grab with his own, slipping it into a pants-pocket.) (SecHS Non) “Not my preferred brand, but it’ll do! I’ll promote you up one rank right here and now, if you can lend me a lighter too!” (Desmoine) “Sorry, Snowman, but that’s where your luck runs dry….two cigs and no light. Ain’t that a metaphor for the ages?” (SecHS Non) “What the fuck do you mean by a metaphor!?” (Desmoine) “I don’t know either, but I’ll figure it out by dawn! Adieu, bon ami!” (The Cajun man steps off of the ramp, as Non and the squad take their seats. The master sergeant slaps the driver’s exposed leg, signaling her to close the ramp. The Bradley continues its drive southwards until turning left on Ellison Place, disappearing into the concrete jungle. Under the false assumption that he is now alone, Duncan Desmoine takes a large gasp of fresh air in relief, then decides to rest a bit longer by sitting down on a short staircase, in quiet surprise that his stomach hasn’t gotten upset by all the recent running. He walks over to the stairs and lays down his gun and backpack, before he is tapped on the shoulder. Duncan turns around to meet the business end of an ectoplasmic fist, courtesy of Stacey. The sucker punch knocks him to the ground, where his backpack breaks his fall.) (Desmoine) “OOOOOOOW! AHHH, MY NOSE! YOU BITCH, I’M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS ALL THE WAY BACK TO VENUS, YOU -ack-) (Stacey stands still with a smug grin, as Duncan gets up to throw a haymaker at her own nose, only for his fist to be stopped in its tracks by her ectoplasm, which then whips around his neck, flings his Steyr out of his other hand, and begins to choke him. Duncan grasps and clutches to reach her head, but the ‘plasm keeps his distance perpetually only inches away. Stacey loosens up her ectoplasm, enough to keep Duncan at bay, but not enough to crush his throat.) (Stacey) “Well, well, well. Looks like you’ve been left out to dry. Ah, I gotta say, you ARE a looker. You’ll make quite a catch for my friend. But I’M not here to fuck the absolute shit out of you. What I need is information. Where’s that new friend of yours going?” (Desmoine) “You’re gonna have to bring in one of those Brain-Scorchers if you want to find that out!” (Stacey) “Oh, we have plenty of Mind Flayers, yes. But I have a few other ways and means to get it out of you. But! My boss wants me to go easy on you poor widdle unarmed humans, so I’m going to let you choose. Cooperate, or get raped! It’s as simple as that.” (Desmoine) “You don’t scare me, ‘Ann Weying.’ You’ve been on that guy’s tail for…what, two and a half days? And you STILL haven’t bagged him. Either he’s TOO good, or you’re just really bad at your job.” (And at this point, a certain succubus and wolf-woman appear from around the corner, and Terri flaps down to the ground, as Stacey’s ‘plasm grabs Duncan’s oversized pistol off the sidewalk. Placing it into her normal left hand, she points it right at the Cajun’s head.) (Stacey) “Hmph, no matter what world I’m in, rich bratty boys in need of rape correction will be rich bratty boys in need of rape correction.” (Azneth) “AHEM! Mister…Dez-moi-knee, if I heard correctly.” (Desmoine) “Deh-Moyne. That’s how you say it.” (Azneth) “I see. Well, then….Duncan. Lovely name, at that.” (Desmoine) “......Thanks. And just who might you be?” (Azneth) “I, am Princess Azneth, 34th-born of Royal Makai! Me and my associates have come here to neutralize your new friend, as he is a clear & present danger to both of our entire worlds. Did you ever stop to think or ask about what he was carrying in that bag?” (Desmoine) “No….I was more concerned about why he didn’t have an escort with him. Let me guess, they sacrificed themselves to buy him more time?” (Terri) “They flew off, actually. Tried to do a decoy-switch on us, but we caught them in the act, live on camera.” (Desmoine) “.....A switch on what exactly?” (Azneth) “The Nuclear Football, a portable supercomputer used to manage your nation’s arsenal of WMDs. That’s what the Secretary is carrying in that bag right now.” (Desmoine) “Are you telling me, that I was right up next to that thing?” (Azneth) “Yes!” (Desmoine) “Holy shit, I was--but tha--isn’t the President supposed to have a bodyguard with that bag all handcuffed up to ‘em?” (Azneth) “Despite my best efforts, it seems that my dear Snowman had the honorable O’Grady assassinated, then took that Football from his cold, dead hands.” (Desmoine) “So that explains Speaker Delvecchio taking the chair without a fuss. Guess Mr. Alaska wasted Vice-President Dicola too?” (Azneth) “Oh no, no, it seems that it was the Valkyrie who eliminated that fellow.” (Terri) “Ehhh, he had a thing for Baphomets. Sicko had it coming.” (Desmoine) “Okay, okay, I’m sitting back down now. This is…. A LOT TO TAKE IN. Christ, so I just aided and abetted the guy that killed the President and wants to nuke the whole fuckin’ planet. The VP really WAS a kid-diddler, and…” “Wait, if he’s got the only Football left, why hasn’t he used it yet? He’s on the Cabinet now, he should be able--” (Azneth) “A nuclear launch requires three cleared individuals to authorize it through bypassing all the digital and analog safeguards. Trust me, we’ve lost a dozen good Automatons trying to breach those security measures. We believe that Non is attempting to rendezvous with the new Secretary of Defense, and Wisconsin Senator Fred Roquefort, your replacing Vice-President. We thought for a short while that Florida Congresswoman Palmieri was the new ‘SecDef’, but we’ve found recent messages indicating that she has not been promoted in any way. At least, not yet.” (Desmoine) “So THAT’S who was missing from that last White House broadcast. I don’t know about all this….” (Stacey) “The fuck do you mean, ‘you don’t know?’ If you want to die in a fiery blaze, be my guest. But I did NOT go through all that trouble of working my way up Princess Druella’s inner court, just to get vaporized by an insecure gymbro pencil-pusher who peaked in high school and won’t let go of his social ranking that he probably gigolo’d himself out for!” (Azneth) “Gah! I’m wasting time here! My husband’s heading behind his friendly lines, so I’m going to make another disguise spell to sneak past those lines. I’ll call Ann to slip in too, and back me up. You three keep moving around the perimeter, and don’t barge in until I give Rehema the signal via text-message. Stacey, you’re in charge until I or my father get back. Please take Rehema and Mister Desmoine’s advice seriously, they’re natives after all.” (Desmoine) “What--No! I’m from Baton Rouge! I only came to this damn warzone on my way from trying to collect my apartment possessions before going home!” (Terri) “Liar! I heard you and Non talking, you didn’t have any plans except to get your stuff and….and I couldn’t hear the next part!” (Desmoine) “That’s classified! I’m not telling you that either, and I’m--” (Azneth grabs his hair and locks her eyes with his.) (Azneth) “Oh yes you will. You’re a human male. You’re coming with us, you’re cumming IN us, and you don’t GET a choice. And even if I wanted to give you one, I couldn’t. Because I’m afraid that our resident wolf…..she likes you. And she wants you. Now we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. THAT choice is the only one you get.” (Duncan turns his head to get a good look at Ms. Hampton, eyeballing her from paw-feet to head, while Rehema gets on all four and licks her lips as her cheeks turn red, then she starts growling.) (Desmoine) “Easy way, easy way! Look, okay, she’s cute, and she’s definitely my type, but please, have SOME fuckin’ mercy! Can’t I go for at least six hours without something crazy happening! I-I’m not cut out for this, I’m not even supposed to be here, I’m--Come on, I can’t just backstab Non like that!” (Terri) “Why not!? He just abandoned you, he kept you out of the loop, and he used you as another meat shield to hide behind, then he disposed of you when he found something better! He doesn’t deserve your loyalty, give us a chance!” (Desmoine) “Give YOU a chance? Bec mon cul! You already blew that when you shot at me for no reason!” (Stacey) “Oh boo hoo, you were standing right next to our target! That’s like complaining about the smoke when you’re standing next to a coal refinery! Those bullets weren’t even lethal, all my shells are packed with D-Silver!” (Terri) “Actually, all I have is normal bullets.” (Desmoine) “Oh, you rat-bitch!” (Terri) “Well none of us really hit each other, so no harm, no foul! My point is that you should tell us what we want to know, before we get mad and find someone to MAKE you tell us what we want to know! Why are you so keen on defending that second-fiddle sportsman anyways? (Desmoine) “BECAUSE HE’S ONE OF THE FIRST PEOPLE IN A LONG, LONG TIME TO GIVE ME THE SORT OF CHANCE YOU KEEP ON TALKING ABOUT! He offered me a real job! You don’t know how close I was to rock-bottom before you freaks got here! I lost my car, I’m homeless, my only sister cut me off ‘for my own good’, my parents disowned me for failing the state bar exam, and I have a useless masters’ degree that I wasted YEARS of my life working for! You wanna know why I want to go back to Louisiana?” “.....I’m going back so I can kill my parents! I’m gonna kill ‘em! No gloating, no wacky Law & Order murder plot, I’m gonna knock on the door and greet my mom as she opens it like she always does. Then I’m going to pull this gun out of my backpack, put a hollow-point slug through her cranium, then call for my dad to pop him too! And then I’m heading to the nearest Homeland Security office, to go work for an upstanding man who gave me a chance to make something of myself! He gave me more of a chance in ten minutes, than my own family gave me in the last five years! They didn’t even pay for my college, that was all from a trust fund my grandmother had set up, bless her soul and may she rest in peace! AND DO Y’ALL HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE A HIGH-STANDING MEDIA DARLING’S LOSER OF A SIBLING!” (Azneth) “......Actually, I know exactly how that feels.” “I’m….so sorry to hear all that happened to you. I…I can’t promise that I can fix your problems, but if it’s any consolation, you have my word that l will find you a lucrative job befitting your skills, if you help us.” (Rehema) “Oh my god, you poor thing! I saw how sad you were earlier--” (Desmoine) “--Whaddaya mean you ‘saw’ me!?” (Terri) “We were spying on Non from a rooftop, and Rehema spotted you eating dinner. Eheheh, she was head-over-heels at the first sight of you. Pretty late for grabbing a bite to eat though, don’t you think?” (Desmoine) “My sleep schedule is screwed up for multiple reasons that aren’t actually you people’s fault. Guess you could say I’m nocturnal now. …..Alright, here’s the truth. Non went to the Parthenon to get supplies and request assistance from Adjutant General Herschel Patterson. The general told him to buzz off, so he turned to me for a helping hand. He hadn’t done anything undue towards me, and I supposed that he could be my ticket towards getting away with a premeditated double-homicide. He’s going straight for the state capitol building. He said Governor Van Carver just had a falling-out with the federal government, so the Department of Homeland Security is probably aiming to bump Luc off and install someone more pliable. Just like they did with the President, if your info’s right. For all I know, they’re doing this to all the other remaining state governors too.” (Azneth) “.....So THAT’S the game, my sweet. Seems that he’s putting the cart before the bull, but it’s clear by now that he’s just pretending to be making stupid moves. There’s a method to his madness, and I’m a breath’s distance from finding that method out! Godspeed everyone, and may Ares, Eros, and my mother send some luck in our favor!” (Desmoine) “Alright, I told you everything. Are we through here?” (Azneth) “I’m quite through with you for now, but my canine friend’s just getting started.” (Rehema gets right up in Duncan’s face, her heavy panting and tail-wagging gets the man’s undivided attention, as his gazing into her eyes becomes the straw that breaks his will, and the princess sees a bulge begin to form in his pants. Azneth’s face turns into a twisted grin, as she makes a fist with one hand and plops it in the other, then yells.) (Desmoine) “Hey, hey! Wait! Shit, can’t I take my clothes off first? Just give me another twenty seconds, I swe--” (Azneth, making a pounding motion into her hand) “--Rehema! Print!” (Rehema) “AWOOOOOO-- (Desmoine) “NO, PLEASE, I’M NOT THAT KIND OF GUY, WE HAVEN’T EVEN HAD A DATE YET-- AAAAAHHHHHHH--” 14th Avenue North Nashville, Tennessee January 3rd, 20-- 1:14 A.M., Eastern Standard Time Zone (Now rolling down Church Street, the Bradley stops at the intersection of Church Street and 20th Avenue North, where a fortified checkpoint comprising a TireDiscounters store and two parking lots at its west and north, stands armed and ready. As the driver emerges from the cupola to prove his identity to the defenders, Non turns towards the marshal.) (SecHS Non) “Thanks for the save. I didn’t expect any help, but I appreciate it anyways! You guys on Conway’s side?” (Marshal) “We’re on America’s side, dude. We intercepted a communication from The Parthenon, that old fart in command there said that you were on your way to the capitol, by yourself, on foot. We didn't know about that other civilian, I swear. So we had a unanimous vote in favor of deciding to lend you a helping hand! I’m Deputy U.S. Marshal Selina Tannenbaum, that hardass-in-charge is Mackenzie. He’s yelled so much today that he’s finally mostly piped down from overexerting his vocal chords. And these two Navy ROTC midshipmen are the Wyatt twins, July and August. August’s our designated driver tonight.” (SecHS Non) “Now why on Earth would your parents name you that?” (July Wyatt) “Okay, first off, my name’s pronounced ‘Jew-Lee’. And our dipshit showoff mom gave us those names because I was born at 11:57 P.M. on July 31st, 2012. ‘Auggers’ took his sweet-ass time and escaped the womb nine minutes later.” (August) “And if anyone else calls me Auggers, I’m stopping the tank just to toss your ass out!” (SecHS Non) “Well that explains why you’re all using Steyr bullpups.” (August) “Nah, that was a cosmic coincidence. Our ‘supplier’ had an AUG rifle of every color in his hobby room, all of ‘em lined up like the Power Rangers. Black, green, classic muddy-brown, white, some sandy-yellow one that I think’s from Saudi Arabia, and even one of those orange limited editions from 15 years ago. I of course called dibs on the orange one, since I found the room first!” (SecHS Non) “And what’s the deal with the firing ports?” (Mackenzie) “Seeing as how we weren’t expecting to go up against armored vehicles or anything that fires missiles, I had the motor pool grease monkeys shave off a few armor plates and rig the old firing ports back up. Those are belt-fed AR-15’s, and we smacked lightning links in them for obvious reasons.” (Tannenbaum) “Yeah, so while the Sergeant was off getting an official requisition for the tank, some assholes came in and stole all the non-critical equipment! Can’t have SHIT in Tennessee! Christ, I left Detroit hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with copper-wire hoarding tweakers ever again, but I guess you really CAN’T escape your past! So he poached me and the twins right after I met the two. Turned out that we all had the same idea to bust open a couple of vending machines at Tenn State’s gym at about the same time. So once we all got together, we kinda broke into General Patterson’s grandson’s house and took the liberty to re-arm ourselves using his collection. Beats me as to how he had a Danish fully-automatic cutting-edge M60E5, but we’re in no position to complain OR investigate. Herschel the 3rd doxxes himself enough on Instagram that July recognized his street, so we pinpointed his exact address from that.” (SecHS Non) “Oh I think I know exactly how he scored that machine gun. Two words, Claus Schroeder. He runs a exotic spice import company that’s a legitimate front for his illegal international arms dealing, and I know he has a few hookups in Denmark. Dude’s been slingin' product since Iraq imploded in 2004. I’ve used his services from time-to-time, and he always does us right, though he DOES charge top-dollar. Guess I’m not the only Pentagon pencil-pusher to directly do business with him. Claus even invited me to his favorite niece’s 15th wedding anniversary. Last I heard, she got turned into a Witch right after midnight yesterday. Her husband’s a cool guy, a 3rd-generation Cuban ironworker from Chattanooga. We got along quick, seeing as how both of us have grandparents who escaped the Warsaw Pact, and I also have a license for blue-collar work. Although for me, being an electrician’s a backup plan, just in case my political career bombs.” (July) “So before you ask, we didn’t kill Herschel Three. We just locked him and his Harpy rape-wife in their bedroom. By now, they’ve definitely either busted the lock, or gone onto the roof by opening the windows. Or they’re still banging each other stupid.” (SecHS Non) “So I assume that you scored this baby at the Lyell Reserve Center too, Staff Sergeant?” (Mackenzie) “Nope, never been there. I heard they’ve got a great cafeteria though. I got Second-To-None right off a supply train down at the Amtrak station a ways to the southeast! Glad I didn’t go to Union Station, seeing as to what happened there…” (SecHS Non) “What DID happen? I need to know, sergeant. I know that cult, the Chief God’s Order, is in control of that place now, and I have several very good reasons as to why they’re a serious domestic threat to the United States!” (August) “Even more than those mutant Primarch aliens that wanna violate our bodies and minds while having the UTTER NERVE, to say that it’s all for our own good?” (SecHS Non) “Those ‘Primarchs’ want to put us all in a zoo with extra steps, that’s true. But The Order does too, and they’re even worse! Those people are what you get when the Spanish Inquisition links up with the NKVD!” (Tannenbaum) “What’s the NKVD?” (August) “Joseph Stalin’s KGB before Krushchev rebranded them as the actual KGB!” (Tannenbaum) “.....Oh, shit. Oh my god, we’ve gotta do something about them!” (SecHS Non) “Remain calm and keep exercising extreme caution, as I can see that you’ve already been doing. I have a plan for them, and it’s only pretty for us. But I need a ride to the capitol first, to see if Van Carver’s willing to get with our program. Or not. If it isn’t too much trouble, Mister Wyatt?” (August) “Sure thing, I can drop you off right at the front steps. But we’ve got someplace to be before that. Firebase Pat Boone’s comms operator has been blasting out everybody’s eardrums begging for reinforcements! They have a confirmed aerial visual on a tidal wave of monsters barreling right down Interstate-65! Looks like they’re trying to breach us by going all the way around the north part of the city. Ready up the right firing port, we’re gonna go broadsides on this! Sis, you take the comms! Mister Non, get on that Fightlite MCR, and I want Selina to help him keep it fed! Keep that other MCR next to you, just in case! Mackenzie, hand the Fed that MARPAT LWH, then get on top and make sure your M60’s locked and loaded before we dance! And make sure that SOFLAM’s battle-ready! We might get some air support, but no promises!” (SecHS Non) “We’re on it! Say, Marshal. How’d you know that bird-Mamono are called Harpies?” (Tannenbaum loosens her pants and takes off her helmet, revealing a blue aura of energy across her entire body. The energy particularly manifests in an appendage emanating from her back-waist & two triangles on the top of her head, resembling a bushy tail and ears.) (Tannenbaum) “Because there’s a Mamono riding shotgun in my body. Her name’s Kiyomi, and she’s a Kitsune-tsuki.” (SecHS Non) “......Well it’s nice to meet you, Miss Kiyomi. I’m sorry about the current circumstances, but your superiors forced my hand. Would you be so kind as to tell me what’s your stake in this game?” (Tannenbaum’s eyes begin to glow, signaling that Kiyomi’s in control.) (Kiyomi) “The same stake all Mamono have in this ‘game’, Abominable Snowman. I came here to find a good man to be my husband and father of my children. Marshal Selina is a peacemaker of a good heart, and I’m glad that I chose her as my host. I have no intention of stopping anyone here from continuing on this mission, but I do have a favor to ask. I know that you owe me nothing, but I beg of you to at least listen.” (SecHS Non) “You have my undivided attention.” (Kiyomi) “Make an honest attempt to bring peace to this war-torn land. Once you have usurped this Governor’s authority, or joined forces, make an effort to end this terrible bloodshed. I know the woman who commands Royal Makai’s forces in this area, and I can assure you that Claudette Tronmail is an honorable warrior who can respect a temporary ceasefire, at the very least. And if they refuse, be it on their own conscience.” (SecHS Non) “That was ALWAYS the plan. Well…..something like that. The result is the same, however” (Kiyomi) “Fair enough. I will let Selina take the reins until this battle is over, and you have my assurance that I have no intention of forcing myself on the future husband of I and Selina. In due time, the minds of us two women shall fully merge, so do not be alarmed at our personality if we meet again. Farewell, Snowman.” (The Marshal’s eyes stop glowing.) (Tannenbaum) “AAAAAAND, we’re back on the Selina channel. Alright. Well, there you have it. I let you in on our secret in case our mask slipped in the middle of combat. We didn’t want to alarm you at a time like that, not unless we WANTED you to shoot us in the back.” (SecHS Non) “Smart move. You wouldn't happen to also be a Mamono, July Wyatt?” (July) “I’m sorry, sir, but they got me too. It was only about four hours ago, so the total craving for blood hasn’t sunk into me yet. I got cornered in an alley by these two orcs, and--and……next thing I know, I’m seeing everything with a red filter, my vagina’s soaked, and I’m biting into another woman’s neck. I pulled out, and--and she starts turning into a squirrel-woman right then and there, and I realized just what the HELL is wrong with me now! I’m a parasite, a fucking plague carrier! I’m a vampire! I’M A VAMPIRE! I can’t even use mirrors anymore, I had to turn on my phone and use the camera to get a good look at myself! I didn’t ask to be like this! And I would’ve kept attacking more people if Auggers hadn’t risked his virginity to sneak through enemy lines. track me down, and snap me out of it! So I’m going to help you all kill as many of the bitches who turned me into this, as we can!” “God help ME, I’m going to find the Lilim who had the bright idea to invade our country, and I’m gonna personally rip their fuckin’ heads off right in front of their kids!” (Selina turns to Non and whispers.) (Tannenbaum) “Kiyomi says July’s just overreacting. Being a vampire isn’t really as bad as most Earth pop culture fiction says it is, but it’s not quite as wack as the Stephanie Meyer sort. She’ll get over it, ehhhh, in about a week from now.” (SecHS Non) “And you DIDN’T overreact yourself from having an alien force you into a symbiotic relationship?” (Tannenbaum) “Well….it was more like me spazzing out on a Hilton laundry room’s carpet floor after one of those Dark Mages popped out of a portal in the sauna and zapped me with a magic beam. Kiyomi got into me, and I spent most of the last two days just trying to come to terms with our memories merging together. Two-hundred and fourteen years of life experience is a lot to swallow, in only 48 hours or so. ……And Kiyomi’s scared, to be honest. She’s never seen anything remotely like this invasion before. She’s been an auxiliary in two city sieges, and both ended in an overwhelming victory in favor of the Demon Lord. Neither lasted longer than a day, and the mop-up operation afterwards took only about three hours both times.” (SecHS Non) “That’s what you get when you bet everything on a Hero. All of them turned out to be fallible schmucks, no better in the brain than you and me. And that sense of responsibility or superiority made them even weaker against the Lilim in every way that really matters.) (Tannenbaum) “Kiyomi says you’re in no position to judge, being a fallible human yourself.” (Mackenzie) “Yeah, and so am I! So is August! So was every other man on this planet up until New Year's morning! And guess what, we’re definitely putting up more of a fight against that Demon Lord’s armies than the humans on that other planet ever could!” (Tannenbaum) “WE haven’t had our manpower exhausted by a two-way genocidal cycle of conflict against the more traditional sort of monsters. We haven’t had ANY kind of real population exhaustion since 1944! We haven’t had the ceaseless disruptions in civilization’s stability that would keep us from inventing most of everything that makes up the modern world as we know it! There hasn’t been anything like that here, not since the fall of the western Romans, and that was about 1,600 years ago! If The Order had the same toys as us back when Lilith rose to power, they would’ve probably had a better chance than we do now!” (SecHS Non) “And that brings us to one of the bigger problems on my mind. Imagine what kind of fucked-up reign of terror they’ll carve out, now that they DO have access to our technology!” (Tannenbaum) “Kiyomi says Non’s right. She’s seen it with her own eyes, the aftermath of that Chief God’s psychopathy. Carts full of beheaded kids who tried to run away from Order territory, extra-crispy corpses of nuns and priests that got burned at the stake just for aiding a Mamono without knowing it, tying the elderly to horses and having them ripped apart in front of their families, all that sort of horrible crap, all just to keep their followers perpetually scared straight! She saw a burnout mage kill his own girlfriend for turning into a Wyvern, then not even five minutes later dousing a shed packed with harmless farmer Mamono in lamp-oil and starting a bonfire! She--she saw an archbishop take an Orc, his own pregnant daughter, out into some woods. Kiyomi ran as fast as she could--she ran, and ran, and--” (Selina’s mental dam breaks and she bursts into tears.) “A-a-and he chucked a bomb and aborted his own granddaughters! Our fox-friend was literally gonna--gonNA KILL HIM, KILL HIM, KILL HIM, I WANTED TO GOUGE HIS EYEBALLS WITH MY BARE THUMBS AND ROAST HIM FROM THE INSIDE-OUT AND-- “--.….And a goody-two-shoes Demon stopped her, not because it was ‘tHe rIgHt tHiNg tO dO’, but because she was kissing their team leader’s ass by following orders to a T!” (SecHS Non) “Then I happily welcome you to our side. You’ll all receive your kill-on-sight orders for those sons of bitches soon enough, and I’m bringing reinforcements.” (Several seconds later, upon reaching the intersection of Garfield Street and Delta Avenue, Second-To-None comes to an abrupt stop, causing Sergeant Mackenzie to fall out of his seat.) (Mackenzie) “What the--are we there already?” (August) “The GPS says it’s only a few more blocks away!” (SecHS Non) “So why’d we stop?” (August) “We almost hit a Prius! I spotted a chick in riot gear, riding shotgun. Looked human as far as I can tell. Pretty sure the driver was a man. They ain’t slowing down and I didn’t wanna kill ‘em!” (July) “I had eyes on them. That driver was wearing one of those ancient woodland PASGT vests. Whom’st the fuck would wear an antique like that in THIS day and age?” Garfield Street Nashville, Tennessee January 3rd, 20-- 1:26 A.M., Eastern Standard Time Zone (Rose Missouri) “We’re trying to stay inconspicuous, and your great idea is to wear yellow pants at night and play road-chicken with tanks! I have a dictionary app on my phone, in case you need a definition refreshing!” (Jake Taliente) “I TOLD YOU TO PUT ON THE CLOWN COSTUME! What part of ‘they’re gonna be looking for Feds that match our physical description’ are YOU not understanding!” (Missouri) “Trying to lose the heat!? You look like a Resident Evil palette swap! Where did you even GET that old-ass flak jacket?” (Global Positioning System) “At the next stop, turn right onto 3rd Avenue North!” (Taliente) “I found it in the trunk, nothing else was there except a basic M9 pistol and a hydraulic jack stand. Nine-mil’s not a great idea right now, so I left it on the ground for the next person who might need it.” (Missouri) “Well, I suppose that SOMEONE’S got to leave important things randomly scattered around for a real hero-of-a-story to find later.” (Taliente) “Aww, don’t be like that, Officer! Everybody’s the hero of their own story. So did you get what I asked for?” (Missouri) “Yeah, yeah, I found six tubes of your stupid Pringles, cheddar & sour cream-flavor, just like you said. I also got us frankfurter wieners and buns. Sorry that they’re kosher, but all they had left was Hebrew National. And I brought some Gatorade and canned Starbucks Doubleshots too. Try the White-Chocolate, it’s to die for….” (Taliente) “I’ll give one a try later. Alright, let’s take inventory. We’ve got food, water, anti-sleep drinks, almost a full tank of gas, baby wipes, snacks, zip-ties, duct tape, a portable jack stand, a crowbar, a full pack of Marlboro Golds, a Zippo lighter, and…..anything else we need?” (Missouri) “Blankets, for one. More bullets of course, and an extra jerry can of gasoline can’t hurt. Can I get real with you? Like, in the cynical sense?” (Taliente) “Sure, what?” (Missouri) “We ought to look for contraceptives too.” (Taliente) “Why, exactly?” (Missouri) “Jake…..the world’s going to hell in a handbasket. If that Demon Lord wins, well, we can at least have some extra campfire kindling. If not….that means Non, Palmieri, and the rest of that Kuiper gang are going to carpet-nuke the planet. They’re gonna bomb us all to the worst parts of the 19th century, cranked up to eleven. ……..And that’s no time and place to start a family. I feel sorry for all the monster AND human kids getting conceived this week, since they’ll either grow up in a nancy-prancy hugbox sugar bowl of a planet, or they’ll be born in a…..really bad world that’ll be scraping in the shadow of mushroom clouds.” “I like kids, Jacob. I WANT kids. Two boys, two girls, a cat, a dog, and a husband who works from home. That’s my American Dream.” (Taliente) “So you don’t want to have your ‘Dream’ come true if it means your kids spend their whole lives in some….’American Nightmare’. Yeah, I see what you mean. But you don’t need to worry, blondie! I have a plan!” (Missouri) “Oh really! And what’s this plan of yours?” (Taliente) “You know those coordinates Non gave Roy? I snuck a peek at them, and I’ve got a pretty good memory. We’ll get some more supplies, then I’ll punch that latitude and longitude into the car’s GPS, just in case our phones are already comped. It’s got to be that CHARON place the Rep was telling us about. And back to the physical description thing I was talking about, if the enemy’s got all the Smithsonians all to themselves now, then they’ll identify our faces on the security footage. Trust me, that’s how we send my department’s agents to the homes of ‘ilegales’ who start shit and run off without wearing any kind of mask. We have to assume our families are compromised too. You got a boyfriend?” (Missouri) “My, my, how forward for a strapping young man, Jacob! (Taliente) “wut.” (Missouri) “…..AHHHH, I’m just fuckin’ with you! No, I’ve been single for about two months now. There just wasn’t a spark with the last guy. You were lying about your girlfriend, weren’t you? Let me guess, she dumped YOU, and you’re too embarrassed to tell anyone, much less Non, who’s now the boss’s boss’s boss of the both of us.” (Taliente) “Y-you knew?” (Missouri) “You had a ‘tell’. So I never told you guys what I do at the FPS's branch inside The Pentagon. I’m a professional interrogation specialist. We grill and work over civilians who sneak into the building, then we pass them down to the DIA or CIA. I know a liar when I see one, and you had the clammy face and shaky hands of a textbook case.” (Taliente) “I HAD A LOADED UZI POINTED AT MY FACE!” (Missouri) “You did! And people with a gun in their face almost ALWAYS have a different sort of ‘tell’ when they spit out the truth!” (Taliente) “Okay, okay, I get it! Yes! I got dumped! My now-ex-girlfriend got turned into a succubus-priestess-nun-thing, and she hopped right on the dick of a childhood friend of hers! Meghan ‘wished me well’ and ‘good luck’ and ‘have a nice life’ and all that shit, and then she hung up! We’d been dating for eight months, and she never ONCE had the guts to admit that I was just the rebound guy! I’m pretty upset, I’m REALLY upset! If we survive this, I’m calling her out, live on FOX News when we all get our Congressional Medals of Freedom for lending the Snowman a hand. What have I got to lose!” (Missouri) “Oh my god, Roy Hodges is now officially the only normal guy I’ve met this week.” (Taliente) “Well we can’t ALL be sir-yes-sir-oorah jarheads who meet a nice girl at church and get married in six months and have no problems!” (GPS) “At the next stop, turn left onto Spring Street.” (Missouri) ‘Everybody’s got problems, Jake. Some people are just better at hiding it than others. I bet Roy’s got lingering drama from his time in active-duty, or from his highschool days, or maybe even current drama in his homeowner’s association. Like you said, everybody’s the hero of their own story. And everybody, at one point or another, becomes the villain of someone else’s story. Look at us! From Royal Makai’s point of view, we’re villains for resisting, hell, we’re super-villains just by being professionally associated with two members of this Kuiper Group! There’s no escaping that kind of dilemma. It’s completely inevitable! You think that when that Ultimate Hero guy first decided to stick his dick in a succubus and knock her up, that he’d end up doing what he’s doing today? Odds are that he thought he could get their world to hold hands in one big kumbaya. So that Chief God Order’s top brass told him right where he could shove it up his ass, and so he decided to do things the hard way. And sometimes, the hard way is the more fun way anyways.” (Taliente) “You’re thinking that Non didn’t tell us the whole story?” (Missouri) “He didn’t give off a tell, but it’s not unlikely that the Demon Lord’s lawfully wedded floozy demanded the Kuiper Group to hold his hands in one big kumbaya, so Non *also* told Mr. Hero right where he could shove it up his ass.” (Taliente) “Yeah but you heard it too. It was their third daughter, the one remodeling New York, that she’s the ringleader behind this whole invasion. I get the point though.” (Missouri) “You’re an oddball, Taliente. But you’re not as dumb as you look.” (Taliente) “Whaddaya mean I look dumb? I--Is is the hair gel? Oh god, please tell me it’s just the mus--” (Having just crossed the Cumberland River, our two intrepid federal agents make a critical error by turning right onto North 1st Street. They pass through a cloud of smoke believed to be from the recent major fires in the area, not knowing that it’s coming from a Witch using an aeromancer spellbook to push lingering smoke away from suburban areas. They pass through the thick cloud and turn left onto Oldham Street, quickly reaching a dead end. Jacob attempts to turn around, but their path becomes blocked by a large fire truck, who’s assigned emergency responder had been monsterized into a Banshee. She screams at a moderately-powered tone, destroying the Prius’s glass and accidentally hurting herself by shattering the front window glass of her own vehicle. Stunned in the physical and mental sense, Jake and Rose look around to see that a crowd of Mamono are beginning to surround their car. Held on top of the shoulders of a Minotaur wielding an industrial sledgehammer, a Siren yells into a megaphone.) (Siren) “Well, helllooooooo, handsome! Mmmmmmh. Well-groomed, seems to drive competently, the clothes imply a rugged-yet-organized military background, skin color indicates Cacausian of northern Iberian stock--” (Taliente, while rolling down the windows) “--WESTERN Iberian! My ancestors came from Portugal!” (Siren) “My apologies for the error. Unfortunately for your companion, I’m sorry to inform you that she’s a human. And the penalty of being a human woman is to undergo blasphemous transmogrification! Don’t worry, dearie, I’m more than willing to share him….” (Missouri) “Oh, he fucking wishes! I bet he’d LOOOOOVE for the two of us to--” (Having redirected their attention, Rose pulls out her Benelli M3 shotgun that had been hidden from sight against the car door using it’s modified Benelli M1014 telescoping stock. She fires a shell’s worth of copper-plated 00 buckshot through the car door, missing the Siren but blowing several holes in the chest of her Minotaur assistant, who drops like a sack of potatoes. Now trapped under the dying bovine, the Harpy-variant tries screaming for help. The rest of the Mamono rush towards the car, save for a Wyvern who rushes to help the Siren back up. Jake, having drawn his USP Compact by now, opens the door of his car, using it to fire at the encroaching horde while using said door to shield himself from love-arrows and Demonic Silver bullets.) (Seeing an opening in the encirclement, Taliente shoots a Ghoul in the head, then reaches his right hand around to pull on Missouri’s left sleeve. Quickly getting the point, Rose and Jake exit the car from the driver’s seat, as a Living Armor rushes up to smash the front passenger door with a mace. Said mace gets temporarily stuck in the door, giving Rose an opening to blast the Armor’s head off, decapitating it’s monsterized inhabitant. The two make a run for it, directly southwards. The crowd now all start running, but Rose fires three more shells, killing four more monsters and opening a gap. She and Jake get through, then get off the street to push past a layer of bushes. They then cross a set of train tracks, as Jake starts running backwards to fire a few rounds at whatever Mamono follows them through the bushes. He hits four more, quickly killing one Imp by a bullet through the neck. The Banshee turns on the fire truck’s EMS siren and attempts to pursue the mob’s prey, only to strike an anti-tank mine on the tracks that was intended to be used on an actual train.) (The two humans move across another layer of bushes that take them right to Nissan Stadium’s main parking lot. Rose continues running, but Jake is grazed by a Cupid’s love-arrow in the shoulder, slowing him down enough to get behind the side of a parked Chevy Sonic, using it as cover while expending another magazine’s worth of .40 S&W, taking down another eleven monsters. Rose uses this opportunity to get behind a Volkswagen Buzz to safely reload from the velcro ammunition cards on each side of the shotgun, ignoring the incubus and Arachne who’re rocking the van by making whoopee inside. Jake runs his magazine dry, then runs toward another parked car while Rose pops out from her cover to expend her current ammunition tube. The two continue this tactic again, by now having cleared the upper section of the parking lot, moving through a layer of bramble before hopping across road guard rails on the off-ramp that leads from Interstate-24 onto James Robertson Parkway.) (Moving across a circular open field, a Cockatrice and the Siren from earlier, move to dive-grab them from above. The Cockatrice misses Rose and is promptly shot out of the sky by a 12 gauge shell, while the Siren manages to grab Jake. Taliente starts to fire his pistol wildly, managing to put a hole through her cranium on the fifth shot. The now-literal bird-brain glides straight towards the ground in a postmortem spasm, giving Jake a chance to pull her rigor mortis-stiffened talons off and use his kevlar vest as a cushion while rolling on his sides to mitigate the pain. Rose helps him up just as another group of Mamono spot them from St. Ann’s Episcopal Church, and rush out to intercept the humans as well. With two teams hot onto their asses in both meanings of the phrase, Taliente and Missouri continue making a mad dash in the hope of a rescue, crossing the 220 Main Street parking lot, then slip through a hole in the fence of an Enterprise Rent-A-Car lot. Rose attempts to use the hole as a killbox, but a pursuing Cyclops uses her cartoonishly thick warhammer to smash several fence posts off, creating a larger opening, even as two Werecats and a Wererabbit simply hop the fence.) (Rose takes the opportunity to fire two shells at the Cyclops, taking her down, as the Were-creatures pounce for the ‘kill’. The FPS officer shoots the Wererabbit as it sails in mid-air, but they both get knocked to the ground by the Werecats. Missouri has her shotgun pulled away and tossed into the Shoney’s parking lot on the other side of the fence while the Werecat uses her other hand-paw to unbuckle her belt before pulling her pants down and fingering her snatch until monsterization is complete. Or she would have, if Jake hadn’t regained his pistol while his own cat-woman was distracted by trying to force his mouth open for a French kiss using her tongue. The ICE clerk pulls the pistol to the feline’s sternum and fires two rounds directly into her heart, killing her in seconds while causing the large cat to begin crushing him through her own rigor mortis. Now with her pants pulled off, Rose makes a last-ditch effort to fight back by biting the pinkie of the paw that was pressing on her mouth to muffle the screaming. The succu-Felis Catus pulls her hand back in pain, then winds up her arm and hand to punch her in the face. Jacob uses her winding-up to line up a shot, causing a 180-grain Remington hollow-point to enter the right side of her skull and exit through the left.) (Still pinned to the ground by the heavy & dead felines on top of them both, and the remaining portion of the two Mamono groups having closed in, Rose and Jake resign themselves to defeat. Rose quietly starts to sob as Jake undergoes a state of sheer panic that induces mad giggling. A Dullahan wielding a Remington ACR walks up to Missouri with the intent of monsterizing her by a Mozambique Drill. But before she can begin to pull the dead Werecat off of her, a Nashville PD Mercury Sable patrol car smashes through a fence and swerves into the empty parking lot to the southwest. The front and right-side passengers, their windows already unrolled, whip out their UMP-45’s and open automatic fire into the pursuing monsters, killing eleven, wounding ten, and causing the rest to flee. A Golem and a Skeleton quickly move behind a Delorean and return fire themselves, neutralizing the front passenger with a D-Silver bullet to his own skull. The Vinnell Corp. mercenary exits the vehicle and rushes towards a wounded Wendigo to plow her on the sidewalk right then and there. The other passenger reloads and continues firing, taking out the two enemy shooters. Now having enough time to push their would-be rapists off, Jake and Rose rush towards the patrol car as Taliente uses up the rest of his current magazine making potshots that only manage to hit two Kobolds in their legs. Jacob and Rose continue running towards the intersection of South 1st Street and Woodland Street, as the patrol car turns its emergency lights and siren on while following the two of them.) (The two run on the sidewalk past a nightclub called Limelight, as a Gazer smashes through the front doors to get in between Jacob and Rose. Rose knees her in the face with one leg and sideswipes the monster’s legs with the other. She then leaps out of the way for the patrol car’s driver to crush the Gazer under his wheels, before getting back up to dive through the Sable’s open front passenger window. Jake continues running towards an array of streetlights now visible through the smoke of the still-burning Nissan Stadium, itself lit ablaze by a series of Mark 77 napalm bombs dropped en-masse by a B-52H Stratofortress two hours earlier. Taking a rag from his pocket to keep the smoke out of his lungs, Taliente holsters his pistol in his recently-acquired Safariland 7004, then pulls out a white napkin from another pocket to ‘wave the white flag’ at whomever was keeping those lights on. Suddenly, two sets of red & white lights start blinking, signifying police vehicles.) (Jacob and the Sable exit the smoke cloud at almost the same time, to find three Davidson County sheriffs working together to mount a M240 onto the open roof of an MRAP, two Air National Guardsmen from the 241st Squadron taking various supplies out of a Chevy Express van, and a team of construction workers working fast to make a perimeter using sandbags. The Sable drives up to park next to the MRAP, and Taliente pulls out his ID card while running up to the two Guardsmen to ask some questions.) (Taliente) “Hey there! Jake Taliente, ICE! Suppose it’s no trouble in me asking what’s going on here?” (ANG 1) “We’ve got orders from the Adjutant General to set up a second layer of defense on this side of the bridge! Firebase J.E. Johnston’s on the other side, and since it’s been quiet over here for now, seems a good enough time as any to secure this intersection before we can set up a real FOB! You guys are right on time, we’re expecting a good chunk of reinforcements any minute now!” (Taliente) “Who’s in command here?” (ANG 2) “Sheriff Keller’s in charge, she’s the one wearing the Confederate suede cap, can’t miss her!” (Jacob spins around to see said Sheriff manning the aforementioned M240, as she reaches into the MRAP to grab a AN/PRC-119F radio. Taliente motions towards the Sable and points her out to them, then runs up to the patrol car.) (Taliente) “You know, this all looks pretty impressive and all, but keep that engine running anyways! All that effort into fortifying Udvar-Hazy only wound up buying us a few extra minutes! Now that lady up there with the funny hat is in charge, I’m gonna ask about what we can do to help!” (Missouri) “I’m going with you!” (The NPD officer driving the Sable gives them a thumbs-up, as the other policeman exits the car to offer assistance with the sandbags. Rose, already losing her cool, throws a piece of gravel at Keller’s front gun shield to get her attention.) (Keller) “Hey, who in tarnation threw that?” (Missouri) “I did! Federal Protective Service officer Rose Missouri, at your service! And this shy punk here is Taliente, he’s with ICE. Need a hand with anything?” (Keller) “Aw, sho’nuff darlin’! We could always use two more pairs of hands for shootin’! I see Mr. Tally-ent-e’s packin’ heat, but we’ve got plenty of extra rifles on the rack! Just mosey on down and pop my back door open, you can’t miss it.” (Taliente) “H-hot!” (Missouri smacks him upside the head, then drags him by the ear to the back of the MRAP.) (Taliente) “Ow, ow, ow! (Missouri) “Jesus Christ, you’ve been a single Pringle for not even a single day, and here you are making goo-goo eyes with Dolly Parton impersonators!” (Taliente) “Well some people get over it fast, and some don’t! It’s just the way it is! I’m not going to live through this war without at least getting at least trading phone numbers with ONE girl! Action as its own reward might be appealing to New Yorkers and you Bostonians, but we Philadelphia boys have higher standards on what makes a fulfilling night!” (Missouri) “So why didn’t you ask ME?” (Taliente) “......Do you really want the honest answer to that?” (Missouri) “Yes! What does that sheriff have that I don’t, besides silicone tits and a cake’s worth of makeup !?” (Taliente, after taking a very deep breath) “You’re intimidating. And not the ‘spank me, mommy, I've been a bAaAaAad boy’ kind of intimidating like that Congresswoman we rode with. You’ve got that ‘I’m gonna shove you in your own locker and give you a swirly just for trying to give me a Valentine’s Day gift’, that kind of intimidating.” (Missouri) “Okay, that was TOO specific of an anecdote. I’d like to meet this woman who hurt you that way and shove a spiked Hulk fist up her cunt. That’s sick, fucking with a guy like that instead of just turning him down!” (Taliente) “I-It sure was. Soooooo, if this all really blows over by tomorrow morning….do you, uh, wanna go get lunch at a McAlister's Deli?” (Rose grabs Jake and puts him in a headlock.) (Missouri) “Make it Benihana, and it’s a date. …..You pulled us all out of the fire by finding us a pilot, you stuck around at that parking lot to cover my ass when you could’ve just kept running to leave me for bait, and you saved me from getting a cat’s paw up MY cooch. And I didn’t think you had it in you to give up your seat for that guy, or that you’d give that baby your jacket. I’d say the least I can do is give you a chance, Jacob.” (Taliente) “Uh, you’re….welcome. You totally sure that magic monster miasma isn’t getting into your head?” (Missouri) “And here I thought it was getting into YOUR head. As long as I can still shoot at people and keep myself from pinning any guys down, I’ll be fine. Hand me that shotgun in the back.” (Taliente) “Sure, I think I’ll be grabbing a UMP40 if they have any. Best to keep all my shit in the same calib--huh. There’s a note on this HK five-one-two. It says ‘Buckshot rounds only, fuck around and you’ll find out why.’ Why’s every gun in here a Heckler & Koch anyways? This feels awfully contrived….” (Missouri) “I’ll still take that 512. Wasn’t planning on using anything besides buckshot anyways. Maybe we’ll have time to investigate and answer your question too. Now let’s go tell that cop to turn the car off. We’ll stick around until this firebase is completely up and running.” (Taliente) “What if the place gets overwhelmed BEFORE that? Non and Palmieri got the black-ops red carpet rolled to bail them outta the White House, but we’re not exactly high enough in the pecking order to get that kind of backup!” (Keller) “Ain’t no thang, sugah! The cavalry’s here!” (Rose turns around as Jake looks out of the MRAP while holding onto the HK 512 and UMP40. At that moment, a Kenworth T680 semi-truck, flanked by four NPD Ford Explorers, comes barreling down Woodland Street’s bridge over the Cumberland River, the only entry point from that area seeing as how the State Highway 41 bridge running parallel had been intentionally demolished the previous day, by an overeager ex-USMC Mershark with too much C4 and time on her hands. At the same time, a Lenco BEAR van carrying the remnants of Mt. Juliet’s SWAT team arrives through the fire and the flames of Russell Street, and a USAF MH-139 approaches from the distance as the two Air Guardsmen cry out in joy that their request for reinforcements was acknowledged.) (Taliente) “Sheriff Keller, is it just me, or is it weird to notice that I haven’t seen a single Blackhawk helicopter since last week.” (Keller) “Now that’cha mention it, last I saw one was when a couple’a bigwigs from the CDC tried to leave town in an Air Force Pave Hawk. But that didn’t work out, Lord have mercy.” (Missouri) “By that you mean--” (Keller) “Someone blasted a Stinger right at ‘em. Rocket done hit the cockpit and blew’em all into a million pieces. The shooter got spotted by one’a Patterson’s Rangers, but she had some all-black spy outfit on. The only clue was that the Ranger was able to make out bear-ears sticking outta her ski mask. But that ain’t worth shit, what with all the grizzly-folk in these here parts now. Might’ve been anarchists, seeing as how killin’ 14 people in one shot ain’t the normal monstah’ M.O., and the Panthers ain’t keen on hiding their faces. And word on the grapevine about fifteen minutes ago said someone shot down General Patterson’s personal King Stallion choppah’ right outside The Parthenon, and them perps had the same description. You folks see ‘em, shoot to kill if you’d kindly.” (Taliente) “So what’s YOUR reason to keep on fighting out here? Me and Missouri, well we’re just trying to do what we can to help anyone who needs our help. All these big movers and shakers making power plays for when the dust settles, it’s gonna leave a lot of little people stomped on. Someone’s gotta do something about that.” (Keller) “Bless y’all’s hearts if you ain’t bullshittin’ me. As for me, I’m honestly just rarin’ for some action. I joined the sheriff’s department ‘cuz I wanted to shoot people, after all! But that got me a psych disqualification from street-work, so I’ve spent the last five years cooped up at a desk with nothin’ but an indoor range ta’ get my kicks.” (Missouri) “So now here’s your chance to finally shine….” (Keller) “Bingo, darlin’! Gonna waste them bastards reeeaaalllll good!” (Upon finishing that sentence, the three humans notice four ropes emerge from the MH-139 and land on the ground. In hardly a minute, thirteen base defenders from the 820th Group descend, the ropes retract, and the MH-139 flies off to the west, immediately shining a spotlight at something on the other side of the inferno formerly known as Nissan Stadium. The semi-truck also stops just short of the circle of road flares being used to designate intended fortification emplacements, as it’s police escort turns around to return to Firebase Johnston. It’s back doors open, and out rush fourteen random armed civilians led by a four-person group of Nashville SWAT.) (Taliente) “Now THAT’S what I call some reinforcements!” (Sheriff Keller, yelling into a megaphone.) “Y’all are just in time! Them folks flying that chopper just said a mess of bug-folks are comin’ around and OVER the stadium! It’s game-time, mutherfuckers!” (The captain of the SWAT team answers back with his own megaphone.) (SWAT captain) “Keller! What the hell did you guys do to the courthouse next door? We could’a used that for some easy bunkering!” (Keller) “We ain’t done shit, Hardin! Marine Corps went n’ sent a Viper chopper to do a whole-ass fire mission on that building yesterday. Sucks to ’ve been the poor bastards in there, but at least it was pro’lly quick! Get your folks over to keep their eyes on the west side of the stadium! Tech sergeant Robinson, you and your air jockeys outta keep your dicks pointed at our twelve and ten o’ clocks! Everyone else, get ready for what’s coming up from the stadium’s main parking lot, and hold your fire ‘till ya see the black of their eyes!” (Taliente) “Hey, Rose. Think I should keep the car running?” (Rose) “Wouldn’t hurt to do that. I’m not eager on doing any more cutting and running, but how’re we supposed to help anyone if we get got right here?” (Taliente) “My point exactly. If we pull this off, let’s get outta here and head further downtown. That’s where most urbanite scum usually lumps in anyways.” (Keller) “Bah gawd, y’all really ARE serious about playin’ Dirty Harry. Well, let’s just see where the night takes us, won’t we, ‘darlins?” (Taliente) “Evil triumphs when good people don’t do anything about it. And I aim to do something about it.” (Rose, looking through a binoculars) “Amen to that. …..AAAAAND, THERE THEY ARE! LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--” Gallatin, Tennessee 14,000 feet above sea level January 3rd, 20-- 1:35 A.M., Eastern Standard Time Zone (Hodges) “Rep, just what the fuck was that purple spider-thing that swiped Whaley?” (Palmieri) “It’s called an Atlach-Nacha. H.P. Lovecraft made that shit up here, but over on that monster world they’ve been one of the more feared types of, uh, ‘people’.. They’re like trapdoor spiders, except the trapdoors are whole caves.” (Hodges) “Jeee-zus, if Peter’s in the webs of…..oh shit! Peter. Webs. I’d almost have a good mood if this shit wasn’t about to make me piss myself in fear instead of laughs.” (Palmieri) “I know exactly what you mean. I’d rather blow my brains out then let some disgusting abomination like that get anywhere within a mile of my baby boys.” (Hodges) “So, worst case scenario, what kind of mutant would you pair up to your boys?” (Palmieri) “I AIN’T EVEN GONNA DIGNIFY THAT WITH A……oh, fuck it. I’m crossing my fingers for either a Kobold or a Holstaur. The kind of woman who’s gonna let my boys be men, but still give them all the love they deserve. I just hope that they don’t turn me into the same kind of bitch on the outside that I am on the inside ” (Hodges) “Hey! You’re NOT a bitch, Rep. And don’t take any shit from faggots who say you are. I don’t think ANYBODY has the right to blame you for being so concerned about your husband and kids! I wish MY mom was this concerned when I was a baby! And I wish my mom whipped my dad into shape the way you did with Gabriel. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten himself killed fifteen years ago.” (Palmieri) “Sorry to hear about that. I take it he picked a fight he couldn’t win?” (Hodges) “Yup. He got all boozed up, tried to play bouncer at his favorite Buffalo Wild Wings. So he wound up dying from blood loss in an ambulance when the other guy turned out to have a switchblade in his pocket. At least karma turned up in my family’s favor. Dad’s murderer got sentenced to 25 years at McDowell on a first-degree murder charge. And that only lasted five days when HE got shanked in the shower by some Aryan Brotherhood loony. Died right on the operating table. My mom did the only proactive thing in her life when she split a bit of Dad’s life insurance payout with the nutcase’s next of kin, as a thank-you.” (Palmieri) “At least you have closure on that. Lots of folks spend their entire lives never knowing who wasted a loved one. So how’s your mother now?” (Hodges) “They already got her, she called me last morning to tell me all about how great it is to be a turtle-person now. But she still needs a bit of time to get over Dad before mingling again.” (Palmieri) “She’s a Kappa. Royal Makai uses the Japanese wording as a blanket term for turtle-people, and I have no idea why. Then again, Zipangu seems to be as relevant to them as Brazil is to us.” (Hodges) “Questions. What’s a holstaur and what’s a Zipangu?” (Palmieri) “Holstaurs are to Minotaurs what dogs are to wolves. Domesticated, don’t even need to get pregnant before generating titty milk. You REALLY have to go out of your way to piss a holstaur off into raping someone. Same goes for Kobolds. As for Zipangu? Here on Earth, Zipangu was an old phrase for Japan, coined by Marco Polo way back when. Over on Kenkou, Zipangu’s an island chain that seems to be like a mix of Japan and the jungles of India.” (Hodges) “So if Royal Makai’s like the Holy Roman Empire, and this Zipangu place is what you say it is….then what’s the other-versions of the Middle East and China over there?” (Palmieri) “Their version of the Middle East is a lot like ancient Egypt, although we have prisoners from there that were up-to-speed all the way to late antiquity Greek stuff. We’re talking up to 700 A.D. You know how the human race can trace all civilization back to a bunch of different river valley proto-nations?” (Hodges) “I’m somewhat aware…..” (Palmieri) “Well, most of Western civilization traces back to the Indus and Tigris-slash-Euphrates regions, for example. And over there, it seems most of that humanity, and thus, monsters, descend from the equivalent of the Nile river valley. And the rest comes from a civilization based around this….alternate Sea of Japan.” (Hodges) “I see. It’s too bad the National Geographic Society’ll never get a chance to get to the bottom of that. I DID notice that R-M goes with the Japanese version of Kobolds too. But I DID see lizardwomen too. They got a fancy name for them?” (Palmieri) “As far as I know? Nope. The green ones literally just go by ‘lizard-women.’ Though there are those fiery red ones that call themselves Salamanders.” (Hodges) “I’ll be real here. If we lose, I hope Mikaela becomes a Salamander, though I’m not leaving her no matter what she becomes.” (Palmieri) “Where’s your wife now?” (Hodges) “Hiding with some of her cousins somewhere way out in the middle of West Virginia. Funny, I never told any of my Shadowrun group about her. Now I feel pretty bad, since I’m betting Taliente’s worried pretty sick about me getting raped tonight. Good kid, always knows his right from wrong. Though he always had that problem of motormouthing at a bad time. I hope he and Rose are doing fine.” (Palmieri) “I hope they get out of this too. Their parents should be proud to have raised good people who gave up an easy way out to make sure a baby didn’t get separated from her parents. …..I almost cried when Jake wrapped that tyke in his jacket like it’s a blanket. God, I can’t believe we managed to get exactly eleven people onboard. I’d have a really good reason to put a bullet through my skull if I knew I threw some poor civilian to the wolves, you know, to save myself. I think that’s why Peter got off this ride. And it’s good that Sherry’s sticking around. She’s still got that camera on, and she’s taking this all a lot better than I thought she would. A shame that NEMESIS is already taken. She and Non would’ve made a cute couple. Poor girl doesn’t deserve what happened to her in the West Wing.” (Hodges) “But, saving yourself, that’s exactly what you, Non, and Sherry did to the White House!” (Palmieri) “That’s different! Everyone who stayed behind there, stayed because they WANTED to go out with a bang! Sherry was the only person who chickened out, and me and the ‘Homelander’ are under DIRECT ORDERS from THE President, to make sure this Football gets to CHARON Station! And if Non’s little switcheroo works out, I swear to god I’ll name my next son after him if he croaks tonight. …..Awwww shit! How’m I supposed to explain to SEDNA that her boytoy is taking a county’s worth of bullets for me!” 6011 South 13th Street Omaha, Nebraska January 3rd, 20-- 12:39 A.M., Central Standard Time Zone (At Mount Vernon Gardens, inside of a toolshed now being used as a command post, a certain Valkyrie and an entourage of four Nebraskan Army National Guard officers, an Air Force warrant officer, and two OPD lieutenants watch an Emergency Alert System message repeat itself on a television screen.) “THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE IS TRANSMITTED AT THE REQUEST OF THE FEDERAL EMERGENCY MANAGEMENT AGENCY AND THE OFFICE OF THE GOVERNOR OF NEBRASKA. THIS IS NOT A TEST.” “TODAY AT TWELVE-THIRTY A.M., CENTRAL TIME, THE UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE HAS REQUESTED THAT ALL RESIDENTS IN THE AREA OF DOUGLAS COUNTY ARE TO BE HIGHLY ADVISED TO AVOID TRAVEL NORTH OF INTERSTATE 80. A HIGH CONCENTRATION OF THE BIOHAZARD KNOWN AS DEMONIC ENERGY, AND BEINGS AFFLICTED BY ITS PROPERTIES, CURRENTLY MAINTAIN FUNCTIONAL CONTROL AND AIR SUPERIORITY OVER THE GREATER OMAHA AREA AND THE MISSOURI RIVER, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF SOUTH OMAHA. ALL COUNTY RESIDENTS WITH THE CAPABILITY OF ESCAPE ARE ADVISED TO EVACUATE TO THE MUNICIPALITIES OF RALSTON, LA VISTA, PAPILLON, BELLEVUE, OR OFFUTT AIR FORCE BASE. ALL COUNTY RESIDENTS WHO LACK A MEANS TO EVACUATE TO SAID LOCATIONS, ARE ADVISED TO LEAVE DOUGLAS COUNTY IN ANY OTHER DIRECTION IMMEDIATELY. ALL COUNTY RESIDENTS WHO LACK A MEANS TO EVACUATE AT ALL, ARE REQUESTED TO STAY INDOORS, SEEK SHELTER, PREFERABLY IN AN UNDERGROUND AREA.” “MAKE SURE TO BRING A SUSTAINABLE SUPPLY OF FOOD WITH LONG-TERM STORAGE CAPABILITY, ALONG WITH PURIFIED WATER, FIRST AID SUPPLIES, WEAPONS, AMMUNITION, BATTERIES, FUEL, AND FLASHLIGHTS. ATTEMPT TO LIMIT AS FEW PEOPLE TO A DEFENSELESS SINGLE VEHICLE AS POSSIBLE. AVOID DOUGLAS COUNTY UNTIL THE ALL-CLEAR HAS BEEN GIVEN BY THE GOVERNOR OF NEBRASKA, OR THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, OR THE COMMANDING OFFICER OF OFFUTT AIR FORCE BASE. IF YOU ARE WITHIN OR NEARBY THE EVACUATION AREA, AND WISH TO PARTICIPATE IN THE DEFENSE OF YOUR HOMELAND, CONTACT YOUR NEAREST MILITARY PERSONNEL OR LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICIAL.” “A TEMPORARY EVACUATION CENTER HAS BEEN ESTABLISHED AT THE MOUNT VERNON GARDENS AT SIX-ZERO-ONE-ONE SOUTH THIRTEENTH STREET. EVACUATIONS TO OFFUTT AIR FORCE BASE WILL OCCUR AT THE HALF-HOUR MARK OF EVERY HOUR, STARTING AT TWO A.M. STAY TUNED TO MEDIA SOURCES AND NOAA WEATHER BROADCASTING, AS FOUND ON LOCAL TELEVISION AND RADIO, FOR FURTHER INFORMATION AND INSTRUCTIONS. THIS MESSAGE REPLACES THE PREVIOUS ALERT THAT WAS ISSUED BY THE NATIONAL SECURITY COUNCIL, WHICH EXPIRED AT 12:25 A.M. CENTRAL TIME.” (Eydis) “Is this group all we could muster, Colonel Lamarr?” (Lamarr) “Uh y-yes, ma’am, this is every official I could find on short notice.” (Eydis) “You will all do, for now.” (USAF warrant officer) “Alright, we’ve heard you’ve got decades of combat experience against these monsters back on their--your mutual homeworld. Just tell us where we need to go and what we outta do.” (Eydis) “Wise man. The Devil they sent to take this city, Ymeisna, has already been exterminated. I personally saw to it. However, she’s already been replaced, and I’ve worked with her replacement in times past, before her corruption. She’s a Cupid named Atrugiel. A sort of angel, like myself. And given her predilection towards helping aquatic Mamono, it is most likely that she has gone to ground to avoid distractions while forming an amphibious strategy. Simply put, she will command a host of specialized Mamono and commence a large-scale assault upon Offutt across the shores of the Missouri River, while likely bringing in surface reinforcements from this Council Bluffs town. It is PARAMOUNT that you all hold the line here.” “I must go now to assist with another one of Brigadier General Hudson’s operations. With the greatest of respect for you all, my abilities would be better served in that area of operations. I SHALL return when I have finished helping them. I have already alerted Strategic Command to the incoming amphibious tactic, so with Atrugiel focused on that front, she will leave at least one hole in her defensive line within the southwest part of this city. A hole that I and Rockwell fully intend to exploit. Refrain from making any innuendo on that, please. With the best of luck on our side, we shall execute a……’blitzkrieg’ effective enough that you lot here will be able to rendezvous with us as a pincer tactic.” “But as for now, your mission is to defend this evacuation site with your very lives. Know that there is no antidote, no vaccine, for demonic corruption, and I sincerely hope that you are prepared to do what must be done. I will be completely frank, it is extremely likely that you will have no choice but to fire upon your corrupted neighbors, compatriots, friends, even your own family. But you must understand, they are NOT the people you once knew! Their minds and souls have been twisted and perverted in all definitions, they! Are! MONSTERS! Abominations of nature, wearing distorted mockeries of their previous forms! Whatever propaganda they state about bodily improvements and positive forced evolution, it is nothing but damned lies! If you Earth-humans could truly comprehend just what IS the price you pay for corruption, then none but the terminally-ill and critically-crippled would wish for it.” “Lieutenant David Cortez, if I could kindly have that target-identification device?” (The Air Force NCO hands her the LLDR 2H.) (Cortez) “Here you go! The AN/PED-1A. It takes a single SINGARS-type battery which should last at least one full day, and I just installed it. It can designate targets for up to about 10 kilom--I mean, 6.2 miles away. It's also got a built-in camera that can record video, and this little switch can set it to a thermal-based vision. The rest of the buttons on it are self-explanatory. Last little doodads inside are a digital magnetic compass and a celestial navigation system, but you probably already come with that last part as a package deal.” (Eydis) “I most certainly do! And thank you for taking that risk to bring this. You’ve just saved the lives of countless fellow humans. As much of a cathartic spectacle it is to call down lances of fire from the heavens, it does not discriminate the innocent from the guilty, and repeated usage is quite taxing on my mana reserves. With this gadget, I can dedicate my energy to locating people so that I may transport them from harm’s way.” “I bid you all farewell for now, and as for you, Mary-Anne Lamarr, you have my word that I will not smite any human collaborators of the enemy! They shall be spared and captured so that they face judgment in a fair trial for their betrayal!” (The Scourge of Kurgania disappears in a flash of light.) (Lamarr) “.....By ‘transporting’, you don’t think she’s talking about teleportation?” (Cortez) “Duuuuh. How’dya think she got here from D.C. so quickly in the first place? Yeah, she’s got wings, but you’d need the speed of an X-15 to flap halfway across the continent THAT fast…..” Intersection of U.S. Route 275 & South 144th Street Omaha, Nebraska January 3rd, 20-- 12:44 A.M., Central Standard Time Zone (As per the Valkyrie's statement, a multitude of helicopters, both dedicated attack and troop-transport varieties, hover upon the highway intersection, as a joint strike force of the 170th Squadron and the Nebraska State Patrol’s Troop A have spread out across various rooftops, intercepting and terminating any magic-wielders with anti-air capabilities. Eydis appears in a flash of light, signaling all forces to commence their counterattack. Turning the LLDR 2H on, she designates Millard North High School, sensing that a Chimaera had taken the building, electronically locked all exits, and corrupted the entire student body by infusing Prisoner Fruit into the water supply and setting off every last ceiling sprinkler.) (All those former humans inside, all their hopes and dreams, their interconnected lives and drama. All came to an abrupt conclusion that day, at the 2,000-pound business end of a GBU-24 Paveway. The F-16C pilot that dropped it, announces a successful direct hit on target, and returns to Offutt to rearm for another sortie. The Chimaera emerges from the rubble, barely able to stand, and is cut to pieces seconds later by a burst of 20mm gunfire from a Zulu Cobra attack helicopter passing overhead. A voice over her radio earpiece cuts through to snap Eydis out of her gleeful bloodlust.) (Voice) “Hello! Freyja, can you hear me? Am I getting through? Do you see a black triangle up in the sky?” (Eydis) “I see it! This is her, what is it?” (Voice) “This is Lieutenant Colonel Sven Thorpe, captain of the B-2 Spirit Of Nebraska! We’ve been ordered by General Hudson to render assistance, and your designation device is already linked to our targeting software. We’ve got 36 CBU-105 clusters ready and waiting on your order!” (Eydis) “Beautiful! I am now designating the music hall of Boy’s Town. Odd name for a village, might as well have called it Mamono Buffet. I want half of your armaments dropped on that area! Remain on standby for your next assignment!” (Thorpe) “Understood, dropping payload now!” (Both Valkyrie and bomber commander watch the host of monsterized casualties, as the stream of cluster bombs lays waste upon the mini-town, sparing none in it’s area-of-effect. Eydis is glad that no one can get a good look at her from 900 feet above ground in the middle of the night, lest anyone notice just how badly her arousal leaks down her legs, on account of fully understanding the depth of the carnage she’s wrought. She regains her bearings quick enough as the Spirit Of Nebraska completes a turn. Knowing exactly where to strike next as she remembered a comment made by Ymeisna before her timely demise, she speaks.) (Eydis) “Your next target will have this beam’s designation as the centerpiece! I want everything, from Indian Hills Village to that university directly eastwards, I want it ALL LAID TO WASTE!” (She designates the local Mexican Consulate, and the Spirit of Nebraska unleashes the other half of its munitions. The cluster bombs commence their slow crawl of annihilation. A church goes, then a finance complex, then suburban homes, apartment complexes, children’s hospitals, high-rise condominiums, retirement homes, car dealerships, pharmacys, home improvement stores, restaurants of food both fast and slow, even more streets of single-family homes fall, one after another after another, ending in a literal explosive finale at the University of Nebraska-Omaha.) (There, the devastation spreads to student clubhouses, dorm rooms, child care centers, libraries, cafeterias, utility plants, all sorts of halls of higher education, sporting complexes, parking garages. The CBU-105’s flatten, shatter, rupture, and destroy everything and everybody in their trajectory, finally ending at Elmwood Park just before the rain of terror reaches Happy Hollow Boulevard. The Spirit of Nebraska turns its triangular hull southeast to rearm at Offutt, the bomb bays expended for now. Eydis hovers down to touch ground upon the roof of St. Margaret Mary Church’s belltower, wearing a grand grimace of wry amusement at the butchery below.) (Eydis) “I CAN FEEEEEEL IT! THREE THOUSAND, FOUR HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN MONSTROSITIES, AALLLL GONE! NYEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, if I knew I’d be having THIS much fun, I would have egged Lilith into invading upon the very minute that I learned of this world! Well done, Sven Thorpe! Few humans have ever cleansed any sort of land as well as YOOUUUU have just done! I am looking QUITE forward to the next wasting run!” (Thorpe) “YEEEEEHAWWW! I’ll be back as soon as I can, ma’am! You just keep finding the right targets and I’ll keep on moppin’ those ex-human stains off in a jiffy! Thorpe, out!” (Eydis begins to mentally prepare herself to fly upwards and continue designating targets, but a love arrow sails right for her chest. The Valkyrie grabs it in mid-air just inches from impact, and immediately creates a shield that blocks a barrage of more love-arrows, and bullets of the Demonic Silver-tipped or [relatively] conventional armor-piercing sorts. She looks around to see a battalion’s worth of Mamono, their incubi husbands, and the odd human turncoat, begin to encircle the church.) (She notes to herself that since the war has truly begun, the average Mamono should now be on equal material parity with most Earth militaries. This battalion’s equipment includes five captured Bradley-class tanks, several automobiles with jury-rigged heavy machine guns on their roofs or beds, a Stryker MSL fully loaded with Sidewinder and Stinger missiles, its racks already aimed right at her as their heat-seeking properties locked onto her Holy mana shield, and an M1A2 Abrams tank with it’s cupola already opened by a Houri wielding a bow, to whom Eydis looks directly at and now speaks.) (Eydis) “Ahahahahuhuhuh! Raeshmiah! After all these years, you STILL haven’t heeded my lessons on telegraphing your attacks! Are you so addicted to using only your mouth to acquire Rembley’s seed that your arms have now dulled!” (Raeshmiah) “You leave him out of this! Need I remind you that your OWN lover is also alone and defenseless, soon on his way to be seized by a certain royal succubus so that you’ll FINALLY learn that sharing is caring!” (Eydis) “Over my glacier of a heart! I’ll put your head next to hers on a trail of pikes!” (Raeshmiah) “Bring it on, Eydis! I’ve gone all over this continent tracking your foul trail of gore, and I’m going to be VERY cross if you go down easy!” (Eydis) “And your wish is granted! If there is any among this crowd that has joined the Demon Lord of their own free will, I’m giving you ten seconds to leave. And be grateful that I only allow this mercy at the request of your Homeland Security’s master! Leave or suffer as those in the firestorm behind you have done already!” (Raeshmiah) “Mercy!? WHAT FUCKING MERCY!? What mercy was there for all those people you and those coward bombers just murdered from your high ground!” (Eydis) “This nation’s leadership has been warning all in this city to leave, for nearly two entire days I must add! You all had your chance to walk away from this! And who are you to speak of mercy! Tell me, Whore-i! How many human men and women have you personally witnessed, the blameless that themselves begged for mercy before your allies defiled their bodies and tore their minds apart! How many of them were innocent humans in THIS world, these people who have done NOTHING to the Mamono that would warrant this cruel aggression! None among us have a moral high ground, for we are ALL villains tonight, old friend! My love DID speak the truth, when he predicted that Royal Makai and all its peons would act as though it is THEY that have been wronged, only because your would-be victims this week are far better than your past conquests, at standing up and fighting back!” “One!” “Two!” “Three!” (One Humvee driver shifts his stick into reverse and proceeds to haul ass back onto U.S. Route 6. An Inari-incubus couple drop their weapons and run for their actual lives northwards. A Cupid, a stranger to Eydis, realizes that there’s easier ways to get a husband, and immediately flies westwards.) “Four!” “Five!” (Raeshma press-checks her enchanted M2 Browning HMG, as two different Bradley crews quickly double-check their own arsenals.) “Six!” “Seven!” “Eight!” (A small squad of well-equipped not-yet-claimed human men who grasp that this is not what they had in mind when a well-endowed Demon contracted them to take part in a heroic adventure, drives backwards in their Ford F-350 to follow the fleeing Humvee. A single Satyros snaps out of her White Claw-fueled fugue and realizes she doesn’t have enough time to run, so in a loss for words, she bursts into tears, tosses away her weapon, and drops to the sidewalk to prostrate herself in fearful reverence.) (Raeshmiah, interrupting the countdown) “OPEN FIRE!” (Bullets erupt from nearly all directions, harmlessly bouncing off the Scourge’s shields. The Houri starts screaming in rage at the failure of her .50 BMG to have any effect, then makes a hand motion to trigger the second phase. The gunfire continues, but the tanks join in, firing their cannons be they 25mm or 120mm. Eydis’s shields vaporize the 25 millimeter shells just as well as the bullets, but the 120mm shells of the Abrams instead move across her ball-shaped shield, and are then redirected towards randomly selected Mamono gatherings behind enemy lines. By the eighth shot from the Abrams, and the gunfire dwindling from the horde’s impending loss of ammunition, Raeshmiah curls her hand into a fist and slams down on her turret, triggering the third phase. The gunfire continues as do the shells, but now all the gloves are off. The Stryker fires its Stingers and Sidewinders, the Bradleys fire their TOW missiles, and Eydis is already aware of the impending aerial assault.) (Six Cupids let loose their love-arrows from their bows and crossbows, and two more encircle Eydis while firing aerosolized Prisoner Fruit 40mm airburst explosives out of Mark 47 automatic grenade launchers, hoping that the airburst function will bypass her shields. That worked at the White House, and the Valkyrie had learned her hard-knock lesson. The Cupids flap their wings back to distance themselves from Eydis, now standing in mid-air from the bombardment that has completely collapsed the belltower. It is then that the Scourge can hear the roar of jet engines AND helicopter rotors headed her way.) (An F-35B uplifted from the Marine Corps strikes first. Since the Valkyrie is now in mid-air, the hoverjet fires two AIM-132 missiles that easily lock on and rocket towards the target. Eydis flies towards the missiles, slicing one into a premature detonation at no harm to herself. She uses her magic to disable the other missile’s internal triggers which renders it inert, then redirects it at one of Raeshmiah’s technicals. Friction and velocity do their job, as the Honda Ridgeline is struck by what’s basically a nine foot, six inch-long tube of aluminum moving at approximately 2,302 miles per hour.) (The F-35B tries to line up a shot and lets out a spray of its own 25mm cannon. Eydis flies towards the aircraft in a joust-like maneuver, using her shield to block the incoming shells. The pilot tries to use the VTOL hover-boosters to juke the Valkyrie, but fails as Eydis closes the distance to slash the right wing and engine. The human pilot attempts to bail out, only to close his eyes and suddenly find himself in a locked cell at Offutt AFB’s brig. The hoverjet spins out of control and crashes into the empty sports field directly east of the church.) (Now 1,100 feet away, the Stryker MSL’s crew decides that it’s now time to strike, firing a full rack each of Sidewinder and Stinger missiles, while an AH-64E Apache Guardian maintains its distance and lets loose one of its own racks of air-to-air Stingers. The Scourge metaphorically dances across the sky to dodge the Sidewinders, while holding her hands out to magically influence all the Stingers. Now under her control, she makes them rocket around her for fifteen seconds, not unlike the wheels of a Biblically-accurate angel, then lets them fly out towards her own preferred targets. The Apache is struck by three Stingers, instantly killing the Vampire pilot & co-pilot. The rest bombard Raeshmiah’s battalion on the ground, destroying all of her remaining technicals and neutralizing the Stryker’s weapons but failing to penetrate its armor, merely spooking the crew. The Bradleys and Abrams also emerge unscathed. All five Bradleys launch their TOW missiles in a group panic, while Eydis destroys three of them with an offensive wave of Holy mana, and redirects the other two at Raeshmiah’s Abrams. The main battle tank explodes as if struck by a crack of enhanced lightning.) (One Bradley attempts to retreat, only for the Valkyrie to swoop down and use her sword to slice off the commander’s hatch while her shield blocks a barrage of arrows and bolts from the six Cupids. Remembering what The Ultimate Hero did on the White House lawn, Eydis quickly unleashes a fire spell to immolate the incubus crew inside and move on to the next tank. She stabs right through the front of the next Bradley, killing the driver while using her shield to deflect the bullets coming from the coaxial M240 machine gun. The gunner attempts to make a quick exit by dropping the backdoor down, but Eydis decapitates him before he can even step onto the pavement. The commander, in what the Valkyrie noticed to be situationally ironic, says nothing, pulls out a satchel packed with 34 pounds of C4, and uses his other hand to grab a detonator, having intended to use the breaching explosives in case Eydis decided to barricade herself in the church. He clacks down, blasting himself and the Bradley into a million pieces as one of the Cupids screams in despair, having been interested in the suicide jockey.) (Eydis is unaffected, and floats over to the next Bradley. She raises her blade to bisect the tank, but said claymore is struck out of her hand by an arrow from Raeshmiah, emerging from the flaming wreckage of her Abrams. She presses a button that folds her custom compound bow, then sheathes it with one hand and unsheathes a knife-sized scimitar with the other. The Cupids split up into groups of three to provide cover for the two remaining Bradleys as they retreated to the northwest.) (Raeshmiah) “Oh you MUST have read about Empress Ivellianya’s personal cake-cutter? I cashed in a favor with Crown Princess Lillie and saved it for a rainy day--” (Eydis interrupts to immediately slash at the Houri, who blocks the claymore using her own blade. The Valkyrie steps back to infuse Holy mana into her claymore, as the Houri quickly splashes a vial of pure Demonic Energy onto her own weapon.) (Raeshmiah) “I just KNEW all this time that Freyja was an old instructor of mine, I always knew! Thought you might’ve been Quanya, seeing as how she disappeared without a trace!” (Eydis) “I slew her eight years ago, Ace of Urawia! For luring a galleon filled with refugee men of Colleston towards a reef where a legion of Sirens and Merrows struck with complete success! For she who loved the fish-folk so much, I GUTTED HER LIKE ONE!” (Raeshmiah) “You’re not scaring me, Scourge of Kurgania! I know that deep down inside, you’re just a loser who’s mad because your daddy was a retard who brought a lit torch to the worst possible place! You gonna crash-land on your sugar-baby and set off a hanger full of landmines? Like mommy, like daughter, eh?” (Eydis) “And YOU were always good at pushing the wrong person over the edge at the wrong time! TOO GOOD!” (The Scourge makes a lance-like strike right for the Ace’s head, who moves her head out of the way and attempts to disable her hand. But Eydis curls her hand into a fist, making a slashing movement that cuts a part of Raeshmiah’s hair off. The corrupted one moves to the front doors of the church, making a preparatory blocking pose.) (Raeshmiah) “Close, Eydis, but no cupcake! And if you don’t mind me asking, whatever happened to Solaris-Avenger? I always loved the way it would ignite itself whenever you got angry, or hungry for a fight! Your new blade looks nice, but it’s just not the same!” (Eydis) “I lost it in a battle against the Twenty-Ninth Born! And I must say, she came far closer to corrupting me than you ever will! Barely escaped her clutches, oh yes!” (Raeshmiah) “With all due respect to Ezraphel, she doesn’t know your moves like I do, my dear old teacher!” (Eydis) “Poor Raeshmiah! You were but a learner then, and still a learner now!” (The Valkyrie launches a beam of destructive Holy mana from her sword at the Houri, who activates her own shield of Demonic Energy, redirecting around her to destroy the remainder of St. Margaret Mary Church. She can barely react before Eydis hurls herself towards another slashing attack, the sheer friction and power knocks Raeshmiah through eleven houses behind what was once a holy temple, killing two Centaurs prowling through nearly-abandoned homes. Covered in their blood and guts, the Houri halts herself on the front lawn of 6102 Underwood Avenue.) (Raeshmiah) “-huff--huff-- I CAN DO THAT TOO, TEACHER!” (The Ace quickly whispers a spell to herself, which causes a sheath of Dark Matter to envelop & extend from the tip of the mini-scimitar into a cylinder extending a foot ahead. Eydis propels herself at 800 miles-per-hour in the hopes that Raeshmiah will again activate a shield and commit more wanton property damage to kill more Mamono in the crossfire. The Valkyrie's ensuing sonic boom shatters windows all across the Fairacres neighborhood, levels 601 North 62nd Street and 443 North 61st Street, and nearly blows the eardrums out of the remaining Satyros still prostrating after all this time.) (Raeshmiah uses her heightened awareness to pull her arms back and swing forward. Eydis notices her movements, and lifts her claymore to block the blow, unaware that her former student is going for a clubbing attack rather than a slash. Eydis’s blade is whacked, the kinetic force reverberates to the whole of the Valkyrie, sending her flying southeast at a speed of 700 miles per hour. She collides with the slower of the two Bradley tanks, nearly decapitating the driver. The crew survives, albeit with blown-out eardrums and a busted infantry fighting vehicle. Eydis continues soaring, her vehicular collision redirecting her further eastwards across fourteen blocks, stopping only after already impacting the third floor of Clarkson Tower.) (Eydis gets up from the wreckage of an MRI machine, as a human brain surgeon rushes into the room to see what the loud commotion is. Recognizing Eydis’s face from an Interpol’s Most Wanted presentation he saw on the British Broadcasting Corporation’s channel only ten minutes earlier, he immediately does a 180 to rush down the hallway. As Eydis gets up and brushes some dust off her armor, she rips her claymore from the MRI machine it had magnetically attached to. The brain surgeon pushes a Sea Bishop riding in a wheelchair over, then opens a door to run down the north staircase. The priestess of Poseidon screams upon seeing Eydis emerge from the MRI scanning room, using her natural abilities of hydromancy to cause the water fountains in the hallway to burst, forming a wall in between the two women.) (The priestess, while simultaneously getting back into her wheelchair, unleashes a spell that violently pushes the water-wall towards the Valkyrie. She raises her blade to cut through the water, which still manages to start pushing her back towards the south-facing window. Eydis takes this time to use pyromancy to heat her sword to 600 degrees Fahrenheit, causing the water-wall to quickly evaporate. She menacingly walks through the steam-cloud to see the Sea Bishop desperately mashing on the elevator-summoning button. The claymore is flung through the air, as two nurses, a Succubus and an Inari ride the elevator’s descent from the seventh floor. It opens at the third floor, just in time for the nurses to witness the Sea Bishop’s decapitation right before their eyes, spraying them in blood. The nurses huddle into a corner and clutch to each other screaming at the top of their lungs, as Eydis nonchalantly jogs over to pick up her sword and enter the elevator. The door closes with no floor buttons selected, as the Scourge gets right in the succubi faces.) (Eydis) “As unfortunate it is how your lift had such terrible timing, she deserved it. Merfolk with unusable lower limbs would be fatally foolish to attack a Valkyrie unprovoked, wouldn’t you two agree?” (The nurses nod their heads. Both begin to cry, while the Inari proceeds to relieve herself on the floor out of sheer fear.) (Succ-nurse) “Please, please, by whatever remains of the Chief God….. just make it instant.” (Fox-nurse) “I DON’T WANNA DIE!” (Eydis) “Have you two taken a man yet?” (Fox-nurse) “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” (Succ-nurse) “--sniff-- N-no, Scourge of Kurgania, we haven’t. W-we just wanted to try and help keep the patients here stable until the Lilim can deluge this land in Demonic Energy, a-and just right now w-we volunteered to double-check if-if anyone hadn’t evacuated the building yet! We weren’t going to search for husbands until AFTER then, we swear to Eros! ” (Eydis presses the 1st-floor button while surveying their tainted souls, confirming that neither nurse is lying.) (Eydis) “And did you have any intention of forcing yourself upon your patients?” (Succ-nurse) “Never!” (Fox-nurse) “O-only i-if he’s cute and tr-tries to attack me f-first.” (Eydis) “..............fair enough, for a Mamono. Ugh, it would be best of you to praise my betrothed’s name, for he is going to be EXTREMELY cross if he learns that I went out of my way to slay anyone rendering genuine assistance to his people.” (Succ-nurse) “Y-you’ll let us live? Even though we’re monsters?” (Eydis) “Verily. By Ares, I sometimes cannot BELIEVE I let myself agree to his terms. The things I do for love. Now wait in here until I return, and cover your faces.” (Fox-nurse) “Wh-why?” (Eydis) “Because extreme violence is about to be wrought on the first floor.” (The elevator stops, its door opens, and the Valkyrie emerges into the front lobby. A barrage of smoke grenades have already blanketed the room in their fumes. The Valkyrie starts walking through the smoke, then hears the roar of an engine and the shattering of glass. She draws her blade, immediately bisecting an armored Chevrolet Suburban 3500 that had just attempted to run her over. The driver, able to see Eydis via his PVS-14 night vision goggles, chucks a canister of white phosphorus at her, leaping across the hood of his halved-minivan to take cover. The canister explodes, but the Scourge uses her bubble-like shield to protect herself. The ignited chemicals covering her shield make her visible through the smoke, as a monsterized platoon from the 135th Infantry Regiment makes their move, taking position in the parking lot connecting to the exit she’s using.) (Eydis emerges through the door, staring into the parking lot, fully aware that there are fifty Army renegades armed and trained on her, including seventeen different infrared lasers.) (Eydis) “On account of your proximity and lack of heavy equipment, I shall grant you all SIX seconds to retreat, or pay the ultimate price!” “One!” “Two!” “Three!” “Four!” “Five!” “Six!” (Not a single Mamono or incubus has left. The Alp lieutenant in charge of the platoon raises his loudspeaker.) (Lieutenant) “Eydis of Kurgania! By the authority granted to me by Lady Atrugiel and her Mistress Druella, drop your weapon and surrender! You might be public-enemy-numero-uno back in that Corruption Of Champions yo-yo world, but you ain’t shit here! You ain’t even a Giant of Kandahar! And it’s high time someone sent you right back to whatever rejected Hans C. Andersen draft you crawled out of!” (Eydis) “Oh, you could not POSSIBLY BELIEVE just how much satisfaction there is in breaking and slaughtering a group that stands as one! Your fates were sealed when you crossed the Missouri! And YOU are no more able to become a true woman, than you are able to strike ME down! Come and give me cause, you profligates!” (Lieutenant) “Drop her, NOW!” (The crackling of 159 decibels from 50 different directions overpowers the noise of anything else in the parking lot. Several soldiers firing tracer rounds realize that their bullets aren’t bouncing off of her shield and armor, but are instead having their paths altering to go around the Valkyrie. The token Alp of the group gets frustrated enough that she whips out a M72 LAW. He pulls the backpin, removes the tail-flap, extends the tube, shoulders the launcher, aims down the sights, then presses the firing button. The M247 rocket roars out in the direction of the lobby, while the backblast destroys a Mini Cooper behind the lieutenant, showering another soldier in window glass. Eydis redirects the rocket directly upwards, impacting the ceiling above her.) (Said ceiling gives way, seemingly crushing the Scourge under its rubble. The platoon continues firing through the smoke, accidentally killing the aforementioned surgeon by crossfire, having just exited the staircase. Two more soldiers deploy MK 153 SMAW’s, firing them at the rubble-pile just to be sure. Seven more of the troops follow up with M67 grenades, alongside another fourteen using 40mm’s from underslung M203 launchers attached to their issued M16A4’s. Every nook and cranny of the lobby atrium is blasted to smithereens, as the Succubus nurse goes from crying to bawling. at the sounds of explosions coming closer and closer. The dust begins to settle, and the lieutenant makes a certain silent hand-motion, indicating an order to fix Demonic-Silver M9 bayonets.) (He takes the lead, slowly walking up to the pile of rubble, where he can barely hear a muffled sound that he assumes to be the Valkyrie attempting to surrender. A Wyvern PFC and two specialists [controlled by the Living Armors in their Eagle MBAV vests] also come up to the pile, pushing through the concrete to pull or drag Eydis out, while the lieutenant has his bayonet drawn to immediately stab her. After two minutes of this, one of the Living Armors makes eye contact with Eydis. One second later, the pile of rubble explodes, killing both of the Armors and knocking the Wyvern twenty feet through the air, landing on a row of abandoned bicycles. The Alp withstands this and charges towards the Valkyrie to bayonet her, but his stabbing device literally melts upon contact with Eydis’s shield. In a confused panic, the transitional man pulls the trigger on the rifle, but the barrel’s end has also already melted and fused, causing an internal detonation that sends a chunk of the bolt carrier group into the lieutenant's right eye-socket.) (Eydis mercifully beheads him a moment later, then gets to work on the rest of the platoon. Dashing through row after row of parked automobiles, she slices and dices her way through monster after incubus after monster with decapitation after vital-organ-puncture after blood loss-inducing laceration. It takes 47 of the platoon to die standing before the remaining three incubi decide to run in different directions. Their attempts to survive, too little and too late, are respectively answered by a Subaru Forester lobbed at 160 mph, vaporization from a bolt of lightning-like Holy mana, and a punch through the chest from behind that obliterates the heart.) (Eydis pulls her arm out from the last soldier, and just now remembers about the Satyros at the church. Drenched in the blood of 37 different people, she extends her wings and magically hovers back to the elevator. She knocks twice, the Inari-nurse presses the door-opening button.) (Eydis) “It is done. Place your hands on my shield.” (The two comply. A flash of light, and the three have arrived at the fresh ruins of Saint Margaret Mary’s Church. The Satyros is still there, shivering in the 38-degree weather to herself while sitting at a bus stop bench. The Inari takes her quilted jacket off and offers it to the goat-woman, wiping her tears away and nodding to the vulpine as thanks.) (Satyros) “Y-you returned?” (Eydis) “Obviously. I’m sending you three to an interrogation room. Cooperate with the question-askers, and you have my word that you shall be treated well.” (Satyros) “.......Why ARE you sparing us?” (Eydis) “Because as much as I despise your kind, it is clear that by some miracle, you three aren’t afflicted by the primal urge to defile as all other Mamono. I know not how, and I intend to investigate this as soon as I can. Consider yourselves blessed, and if I can find a way to duplicate your phenomenon, then perhaps my reputation as the Scourge may soon become merely a memory. One last word of advice? Seek out bachelors of Mediterranean origin or descent. For some reason, every last one of them that I have met is quite open towards having a monstrous wife. The spirit of their conquistadors is a torch never truly quenched…..” (Succ-nurse) “Uh….such we don’t seem to have a real plan, we’ll keep that in mind.” (Another flash of light, and the three “stabilized” Mamono have disappeared.) (Eydis) “You can come out now, Raeshmiah!” (The Houri emerges from a Humvee’s extinguished wreckage.) (Raeshmiah) “That’s not possible. NO ONE CAN RESIST LILITH’S POWER! NOBODY!” (Eydis) “And yet those three are confirmed evidence to the contrary. The rumors are true, my once pupil! There is some force on this world, something here, that is succeeding at resisting the Demon Lord’s rot!” (Raeshmiah) “I’m sorry, teacher. But even if such a thing is real, it must be stopped.” (Eydis) “WHY!? WHY NOT PUT AN END TO THE MOCKERY LILITH MAKES OF OUR MINDS!” (Raeshmiah) “Because we’re better off with it! Look at how we’ve achieved peace back home! Who cares how it’s done, so long as the outcome fulfills! By ending Lilith’s control mechanisms, we’ll plunge Kenkou back into an epoch of darkness, even WORSE than the Demon Lord versus Chief God cycles! All monsters against all monsters, no one and nothing left to keep us in check! Eros and Ares won’t be enough, and they’ll likely go mad from trying! Who’s to stop any Mamono from seizing a kingdom and declaring THEMSELVES as Demon Lord, like the tinpot warlords and dictators of Earth! You’ll reduce us to the Chief God’s reign at best, only with monsters achieving far greater results of devastation than her humans could ever aspire towards!” “And with all the knowledge of Earther methods of conquest and death, I shan’t even consider what Mamono could conceive using that information as a baseline. I’m sorry, Eydis, but it has to be this way. I have to spay your mind. We have to neuter the souls of all the men who stand alongside you and your lover. It’s for your own good, and it’s for the best of everyone. And I’d rather DIE than see Rembley and our daughters live in a place where the follies of humanity reign unopposed. We’re too far past the point of no return, teacher. Mamono minds using mankind’s war-wonders to their fullest extent would be Demon Lord Agovakos’s wildest dreams come true! And I know too many of our brethren have paid a high price to defeat just one of him, so imagine a thousand pretenders to his ideals descending upon ALL OF THE DARKEST CORNERS OF OUR WORLDS! YOUR TIME IS UP, KURGANIAN! AND I’M PUTTING DOWN YOUR PET ALASKAN NEXT!” “...........And by the way, Rembley and our bundles of joy are somewhere you’ll never find.” (Eydis stands still for ten seconds, frowning and pondering. Then she turns on her radio to a certain frequency.) (Eydis) “General Rockwell?” (Hudson) “Yeah, what’s up?” (Eydis) “New York City, 55 Central Park West, Apartment 14B. Smite them with an ALCM. Right now!” (Hudson) “Roger, Wilco.” (Raeshmiah pulls a Nokia 2720 from her fanny-pack, intending to warn the building supervisor. As she brings it to her ears [already beginning to sweat a storm], a crack rings out and a bullet punches through the top half of the phone, destroying it. She looks towards Eydis to see a Glock 18’s smoking barrel pointed at her head.) (Eydis) “This is a fair fight, Raeshmiah. You dare to target my lover!? TWO CAN PLAY AT THAT GAME!” (Raeshmiah and Eydis again draw their respective blades.) (Raeshmiah) “You’re a fiend of the highest level, Eydis. And only a bilious, unloved bastard would even CONSIDER bedding a wretch like you!” Interstate 65 Nashville, Tennessee January 3rd, 20-- 1:36 A.M., Eastern Standard Time Zone (SecHS Non) “Are we there yeeeet?” (August Wyatt) “Yes, actually! We’re right over the Cumberland River. That industrial park you’re seeing is Lone Star Industries, me and July’s old man used to be the head supervisor!” (Mackenzie) “What, is it some kinda manure plant?” (August) “Very funny, asshole. It’s a factory for a composite material of cement and construction aggregate. That’s conk-creet baby!” (Tannenbaum) “Is your father still in there?” (July) “Oh, no no no, Daddy retired four years ago. He’s chilling in our basement right now with a 10-gauge Remington 935 and a year’s worth of canned food.” (SecHS Non) “Good work. So when’s the enemy coming?” (August) “So here’s the good news! The incoming horde split up, so Patterson’s personally taking charge over at the other entry point. It’s Clarksville Pike’s bridge over this river, about twenty blocks directly west! So we’re joining an armored column on the other side, and we’re going on the offensive, so strap your asses in, bitches! We’re going on a motherfuckin’ jooooooyride!” (SecHS Non) “Holy shit, I could kiss you right now, faggot! Do you have ANY idea how long I’ve been waiting to take a fight to THEM!?” (Tannenbaum) “Not now, Kiyomi! We know you’re not a dog, he’s just using shorthand vernacular!” (Mackenzie) “Oh Jesus, I thought this part of my life was gonna stay in Baghdad! Awwww, fuck!” (July) “Redline it, little bro!” (August) “Already am! So, ‘Homelander’! A few hours ago, I saw some pics floating on the Internet that identified you in some other armored column heading for the White House!” (SecHS Non) “Okay, that doesn’t count! I wasn’t INSIDE any vehicle, and it wasn’t a surprise! I already knew about a battalion’s worth of combined arms coming in from Andrews when I was in the Capitol Building, right before I made a recording about why this whole invasion happened!” (Mackenzie) “You got it on your phone? I wanna hear the whole story from your side.” (SecHS Non) “Nope, but I sent .mp3 file copies to every major news corporation in the country, you’ll all hear the whole thing in about two and a half days. I also sent one to Al-Jazeera, for the hell of it.” (July) “Nothing classified left out?” (SecHS Non) “I’m NOT J. Edgar Hoover, Miss Wyatt. I came clean on the whole thing.” (Tannenbaum) “Bullshit. Kiyomi says he’s lying!” (August) “Oh come on! Why’d you have to do us like that?” (SecHS Non) “Okay, fine! Stupid fox with your stupid hax cheatcode magic….” “None of it has complete lies, as far as I know. But there’s a bunch of half-truths in there that I only did for morale reasons. And the events of the last two days have got me thinking that the Lilim AND my fiance are holding out on the whole story. For example, I said that cryptids are probably advance scouts of Royal Makai, but that’s complete crap that I pulled out of my ass to scare everyone. They didn’t know our planet existed, not until Halloween, twenty-two years ago.” “I also didn’t tell anyone that humans from the monster world, Kenkou, can use magic too. Maybe we can as well, but nobody’s tried as far as I know. DARPA and the Air Force ran some tests at the Aberdeen Proving Grounds, and the Navy did a joint program with the Brits and Frenchies at Ascension Island, but it amounted to zilch and they all gave up. And over at Area 51, the Space Force is STILL trying. The Army and Marine Chiefs of Staff thought it was all a pipe dream and they never gave it a try.” (August) “I heard a whole gang of Lilim came together in Geneva, and used that Large Hadron Collider to turn everything in a four-hundred mile radius into an instant Demonic Realm.” (SecHS Non) “It was three hundred and seventy-eight, but that’s correct. They pulled the same trick at every major nuclear power plant, but their energy waves are on a lesser scale. Unconfirmed reports say they even pulled it off at Fukushima and Three Mile Island.” (Mackenzie) “What about Chernobyl?” (SecHS Non) “What ABOUT Chernobyl! The Kremlin shut the entire place down for good once they got it back, I think it was March of 2022. So it’s been irrelevant for almost a decade now. Unit 2 of Three Mile Island was where THAT accident happened, and ExxonMobil is running Unit 1 these days. As for Fukushima, the Daichi plant was the one that got shut down in 2011, after the big ‘quake that ruined everything. The Lilim did their black magic at the still-operational Daini plant that’s basically next door.” (Mackenzie) “Awwwwwwh. A Snork babushka waifu would be nice. Though I’d rather blow my head off than get hitched to a Controller dominatrix.” (Tannenbaum) “Jesse, Kiyomi wants to know just what the FUCK are you talking about.” (August) “Save it for later, we’re coming up on the column now! That horde is mostly mutants on foot or flying with their own wings, so this outta be a turkey shoot! If we run outta ammo, we’ll circle back downtown through Jefferson Street and drop Non off at the State Museum before we head down to Firebase Johnston for a reload and a tune-up! It’s a straight walk from that museum to the Capitol Building, no way you can miss it!” (July) “What kind of convoy ARE we reinforcing?” (August) “A couple of assorted Bradleys like us, five LAV-25’s, there’s two big ‘ol Abrams in the front, an old un-mothballed M728 engineer vehicle in the back, and a bunch of random cars with machine guns on top. Not a single truck though. Weird. Guess Patterson is hogging them for somewhere else. I know he’s keeping all those Strykers at Firebase Polk and down south in Melrose.” (Mackenzie) “Hey! I spy with my little eye, a white Ford Bronco! The most effective weapon in the Buffalo Bills’ arsenal.” (July) “Not funny, Jesse. Nicole Brown got stabbed, like, seven times in the fuckin’ head, and got her throat slit too. Horrible way to go. And that poor son of a bitch Goldman got whacked just for being at the wrong place and time. I still can’t believe that Ron’s dad pussied out of having ‘The Juice’ popped. What kind of a fath--” “.....What the hell is that rumbling noise?” (Tannenbaum) “GET THE WORD OUT, WE GOT CONTACTS COMING UP FROM UNDER THE BRIDGE!” (July) “AUGGERS! TELL EVERYONE TO HURRY UP ONTO THE NORMAL ROADS!” (Mackenzie and Non in unison) “SUPPRESSING FIREEEEE!” (The two men start shooting out of both the Cavalry Fighting Vehicle’s firing ports at a variety pack of insectoid Mamono. One Hornet is carrying a hot n’ ready box of pipe-bombs, but is shot by Jesse before she can toss them. The detonation cord continues inflaming anyways, exploding and taking seventeen Mamono with it via a cartoonish amount of shrapnel in all directions. Two pieces even breach through the firing port holes, one harmlessly embedding in Tannenbaum’s plate carrier and the other bonking off the front of Mackenzie’s ECH helmet, pushing his head backwards which causes him in turn to bonk onto the back of Non’s helmet.) (Mackenzie) “Sorrrrryyyyy!” (SecHS Non) “Just shut up and keep blasting!” (After gunning through 37 monsters and working through five feeding jams, Mackenzie and Non are relieved by three technicals of the Jeep Cherokee & Wrangler sorts. Cleaning up this act, the two men find themselves free to speak. Non reaches into an ammunition bucket and grabs a discarded box.) (SecHS Non) “Seriously!? You guys brought that discount Monarch-brand lacquer-coated 55 grain crap! This is the shit you find at the trash bin BEHIND Cabela’s!” (August) “Well excuuuuuuuse me, Prince! There isn’t exactly any Bass Pro Shops Pyramid around here, so we had to make do and raid Academy!” (Mackenzie) “Not gonna lie Wyatt, we should’ve robbed those dudes with that cart full of Winchester M855.” (Tannenbaum) “And that would make us no better than the wiggers who ripped everything out of here and got us in this mess in the first place! Look, the ammo is finicky, but it’s working! So long as we have backup, we’ll be fine! It’s not like 55 grains ever made an M16 explode!” (SecHS Non) “Tell THAT to almost everyone who wrote hate mail to Rob MacNamara.” (August) “Doesn’t count, that was because of a retarded field-cleaning regulation, NOT because of the weak bullets!” (July) “Bro, hurry your slow ass up and get us off this killbox! I swear, we’re all gonna get strafed by an A-10 or something if we don’t get outta here!” (August) “I’ll get out when this goddamn Jeep Gladiator moves along! Who’s bright idea was it to not put warning horns in these things!” (Mackenzie) “Because they expected guys like us to use cracker-jack timing radio uplinks and all that shit!” (SecHS Non) “How do you NOT know what the basic procedures are for armored division communications!? You’re a master sergeant!” (Mackenzie) “Because I’m with the 181st Field Artillery Regiment! I’ve never even RIDDEN in a Bradley until yesterday!” (SecHS Non) “Wait, are you telling me the four--excuse me, Kiyomi--FIVE of you are COMPLETELY winging this?” (Tannenbaum) “Yes!” (July) “Well I’m sorry that we’re not the kind of instant-whoopass blacksite Seal Team 9000 operators that you’re probably used to, Mister Pentagon Big Shot!” (SecHS Non) “It’s fine, it’s all fine. So long as we can get through this, I wouldn’t mind if you were even from the Civil Air Patrol.” (August) “Ehhhh, it could always be worse. Imagine being stuck with the TSA. I’m sure their monsterized employees are having the greatest night of their life right now, what with giving the whole world a rough cavity search.” (July) “Brother of mine, I’m going to squeeze your nuts if you talk about anal fisting ever again.” (August) “Fine! Alright, we’re off the bridge now. That legion of monsters was all probably holding back to let their unit under the bridge to get shit done! Just two more vehicles and we can go all out! Sis, how’re we doing with the SOFLAM?” (July) “Peachy-keen, little bro! I’ve got four jets circling the city, and all their wizzos are screaming over the airwaves begging anyone to laze a target!” (Tannenbaum) “A screaming what?” (Mackenzie) “Wizzo! Weapons Safety Officer, AKA the co-pilot!” (Tannenbaum) “Ah, we see now.” (August, slamming the gas pedal) “And they’re off the bridge and we’re off to the races, ladies and gents! Coming up right on I-24! Now I can take a peek through the FLIR camera and--” “And--” “Oh, shit.” (July) “Oh my fucking god, there’s gotta be hundreds of them!” (August) “Firing the Bushmaster, firing TOWS, I’m FIRING EVERYTHING!” (July) “TO ANY AND ALL FORCES IN THE AO, THIS IS SECOND-TO-NONE WITH ARMORED COLUMN TWO AT THE I-65 AND I-24 INTERSECTION! WE NEED BOMBS, STRAFE RUNS, JEEZY FUCK WE NEED ANYTHING YOU CAN DROP ON THE TARGETS WE’RE ALL PAINTING!” “Let us have peace, let us have life! Let us escape the cruel night! Let us have time, let the sun shine! Let us beware the deadly sign! The day is coming, Armageddon's near! Inferno's coming! Can we survive the blitzkrieg!?” -Metallica Link to Arc Eight, https://www.4binz.org/741