This is a little side writing I've been doing that takes place between MOG7 and MOG8. I was thinking of making it an OG but then I've got 3298049284308 ideas so that wasn't gonna cut it. It's not exactly as funny or ridiculous so far as I'd like it to be, so I only wrote a chapter to see if it caught on at all (since no one wants to pull a chef lupine). If it's too serious or whatever I'll can it since then I can do something else on my bus rides.
Chapter 1. The Curtain in the Theatre of War rises. Wow that almost sounds cool but then you realise I spend my life on my computer so whatever
Sonic: (Gruff narrator voice) The year is past 2010. Earth is a torrent of mistrust and rage as two major orbital machines of death encircle it. Many factions will rise from the situation, but the two that matter are those of Lupus the Turk, and those of the Anti-Turk Coalition, led by Princess Lila. Europe will be the stage for a war for the third time in 100 years.
The stage of war is a production that starts and ends at different times than many can tell. A number of unnoticed wars in key points had begun months before the events of MOG8, but many, including the OGers, were oblivious to these secret wars. A human resistance stemming from Eurasia and supported by the Americas and aliens whom had recently inhabited Mars, the Kradians, had succeeded in preparing for the worst: Lupus’s attempt to secure the Holy lands of Fred would be foiled by a sizable and unofficial army independent from any one world organization. Lupus responded to this problem with a preconceived blackmailing: he controlled the world’s energy supply, and forced it under his jurisdiction in order to keep its energy.
The militant group however held its ground: there were many who remembered the days of parties long gone, or the terror under Lupus’s first rule of the earth. However, it would end up facing the brunt of the early counterattacks from all sides. The many forces of the world were forced under Lupus’s jurisdiction to fight, and thus an early recruitment of some few millions was taken by flying shoeboxes to Lupus’s secret sky fortress for briefing. The subsequent events are from the perspective of a squad of Lupusian soldiers thrust into the conflict to fight for their leader months before the start of MOG8…
Hundreds of thousands were packed into the gigantic but cramped room about the stage. Lupus, flanked by Koopa X, Sir Sur, and Wesus Whrist was the focus of the room of yellow-jumpsuited soldiers. About the stage were a number of elite cheesetrooper enforcers: those who were made of Vlad Notavampire’s more substantial DNA samples. There was little sound in the room besides cheering and cricket noises from Sir Sur.
Lupus:(raises hand and everyone instantly shuts up except Sir Sur who punches himself in the knee until he stops chirping.) Welcome to the Lupus experience, everyone. Keep in mind that with hard work, dedication, and perseverance and reverence and 20 points and a coupon you can die in my glorious name. Also, the customer is always right. So I am your customer. What do you want to get out of this company
? It’s a joke get it get it
Edwardo Forkstus: A washing machine! (is shot)
Lupus: Good answer. There’s a man who knows what he wants, and gets a shot to the head. I like your style kid.
Lupus: Playin it cool huh well get out of my sight you make me sick. I like your style kid. Sicko.
Sir Sur: You wi-
Lupus: Sur when did I say I was Finished
Sir Sur: Well you jus-
Lupus: Do I look Finnish to you, Sur?
Sir Sur: Yes?
Lupus: I’d break your legs but I’m saving that for someone I think so you got lucky. Let me finish. Alright, here’s Sir Sur for whatever boring thing he is saying.
(Lupus leaves the room to cheering)
Sir Sur: You will not all be equipped with standard issue weapons. We simply ain’t got the cred if the great plan is going to be complete. Thou shalt not be trained, neither. We will however distribute vehicles and speciality equipment to anyone who can best the mandatory tests:
Wesus: What’s behind curtain number oooonnnneeee? (a huge curtain drops on Koopa X’s toe, revealing five hundred or so NESes hooked up to TVs) It’s top gun for the NES!!!1 If you win (the first level), you might get your very own TWIF-tech flying death trap!
Sir Sur: That’s great Wesus. However, that’s not all! Show them their second test, Koopa (x)!
(A curtain falls to reveal a system of cables and chairs)
Koopa |x|: Yeah, uh, whoever can repair the ski lift can be an engineer.
(Koopa is booed off the stage and Lupus gives him a STERN TALKING TO offstage where some mention of “The Box” is audible)
Wesus: and I guess if you can chug a quart of elmer’s glue you can be part of the armoured corps.
Sir Sur: Is that all? The script is blank here and just has a slot that says “insert one quarter”
Darth Lundgren: Not quite. Intel reports show that the human forces are JERKS and have teamed up with units of young, nubile Kradians, who happen to mostly be veterans of battle.
Sir Sur: That’s sooooooo interesting… (falls asleep)
(Sir Sur is grabbed in a fore choke and wakes up, screaming and drops a bowling ball on his toe in mid-air but is still stuck)
Darth Lundgren: Don’t bail on me again, Admiral.
Sir Sur: I’m not an- I’ll be good. In a bad sense. Like a reverse Michael Jackson, Hee hee!
(Lundgren force pushes Sur into a group of garbage bins that just happen to be on the stage)
Lundgren: If your unit comes in contact with a group of Kradians, you will die. They are best left to the armoured divisions, Toe Clan Ninjas, and savvy Kradian boy-band entrepreneurs who know how best to deal with them. Any questions?
(A hand rises from the crowd and Lundgren instantly cuts it off by force throwing his laser sword and returning it to himself)
Lundgren: You guys need to learn about rhetorical questions. Peace out.
(The platform in the middle of the room goes towards the ceiling as the leaders disappear with it. In its stead, a huge disco ball comes down and music starts playing.)
Sonic: Kogarth Ventceres is a tall, tan-looking man with somewhat short brown hair. He is closer to being fat than thin, and has about-average muscle tone. He wears his own yellow jacket instead of the uniform and a yellow bandana over the back of his head. He has two empty, blue ammo-belts running around his shoulders, crossing, and ending on his teal belt around his waste, which includes an empty holster and a couple pockets. He wears comfortable yellow slacks, with black-camouflage patterns on it and short, functional boots.
He stands in the crowd, but does not cheer with the rest of them; he is not here because he is a dedicated member of the Turk’s army, oh no- he’s trying to start his own laundry detergent business: as a chemical engineer he discovered a secret formula that could ROCK THAT WORLD or industry I guess. Since Kogarth was not a mad scientist and the draft could not be dodged, he decided that enlisting was in his best interest regardless. He worries, though; his goal is to survive this war, and he will be killed or at least court-marshalled if he avoids danger, and he has no combat skills to speak of at all.
Booth guy: Number 9T45A!;9034.F.56.
Kogarth: That’s me. Take it or leave it.
Booth guy: Line up take your chance do your dance it’s the space jam
(Kogarth walks to his first test, in which he has no controller, only a power-glove and a ROB2 D2)
Kogarth: How am I supposed to –
Booth Guy: Trust your instincts, Kogarth!
Kogarth: what? How do you know my name?
ROB2 D2: You’ve disabled auto-targetting! Are you okay Red leader?
Guy in next booth: No, I’m red leader!
ROB2 D2: Are you okay?
Guy behind: Why can’t you ask me?
ROB2 D2: No one likes you yellow 43.
Guy behind: that wasn’t funny Blue 14.
Guy way back: PWNED NEWBS! Tell the ground Flake sent ya!
Everyone: Ground, Flake sent us here and blew us up on you.
Ground: You’re a dick.
Kogarth: Well it seems like it’s time t-
MISSION A FAILURE
Kogarth: I doubt the job security was any good anyways.
(Kogarth moves onto the next test, fixing a lift chair)
Booth Guy: Hello son step up step right up
Kogarth: I am stepping up. To the challenge, I guess.
Booth Guy: GO
Kogarth: I’m more of a chemical engineering kind of-
Booth Guy: GREEN MEANS GO GO DOG GO
Kogarth: Where are the tools?
Booth Guy: YOU ARE A TOOL
Kogarth: You’re irritating.
(Kogarth looks at the chair and realises it is in perfect condition)
Booth Guy: Suit yourself! (Dissapears by drinking Nestea and taking the plunge but the water is piranha invested and he is ripped apart as the ground seals up again)
Evil Scientist Replacement Dude: YEAH I DID IT I OPENED THIS BAG OF DORITOS and fixed the chair I guess
(A huge sign with blinking lights labelled “Winnar” comes down over him with confetti)
Kogarth: Cod damnit.
(A couple people look at him)
Kogarth: Force of habit. Weisheit damnit. That there all-powerful Jon Weisheit. Yeah. Him.
(Kogarth slinks to the third test)
Booth Guy: For the third test you must beat me in A CREATURE DUEL then you might get a tank or mech or something beats me I’m only the world-renown expert on this matter I don’t need to live to your standards
Kogarth: I have no pokemans I can’t show you them and I’m not willing to spin a disk, take a risk or to digivolve into a champion.
Booth Guy: THEN WELCOME TO HELL (Michigan)
Kogarth: What do you mean?
Booth Guy: Your job class is CANNON FODDER WELCOME TO THE OUTFANTRY
Kogarth: Oh, great. At least I won’t have to play Xtreme Jenga or something to try out for it.
Booth Guy: We decided that “Xtreme” was not an acceptable word for use in these forces in last week’s PETA meetings.
Kogarth: Ugh. You people are nuts. Next you’ll be telling me the main base is attacked by a Donkeyman, or something.
Booth Guy: Where do you get off, calling us “You People”? Racist.
Booth Guy: OH MY WEISHEIT YOU’RE RIGHT (Shoots a trick gun at himself and a flag comes out so he just pistol whips himself to death with it.)
Kogarth: Let’s see here… he’s got a list of infantry units and companies… my chances of survival at the open front lines is pretty discouraging, so… hmm, this says the Fred-adjacent country of Flim is densely forested, not to mention there are sparse amounts of other squads in the relatively small place, since it’s just to go through to achieve a flanking position from a hill. It’s perfect – it will be simple to stage MIA status and then escape without being detected and at the end collect my paycheck. I’ll just scribble myself in with this small squad. 31BORETHth infantry, huh?
Loudspeaker: Report to place.
(Kogarth finds his respective Platoon, centered around one man)
Lieutenant P. Lefttenant: Morning Maggots! Good Afternoon! Goodnight! (falls asleep)
(Lieutenant P. Lefttenant was an extremely well built man with a two meter long rotating rip rifle stripped to his backside. He wears Yellow army fatigues and a yellow sombrero with his rank insignia on it, a thumb pointing to an apartment building on the left. He also is adorned with broken sunglasses and yellow roller-skates.)
Kogarth: Just tell me who I’m stuck with! I don’t even know who you are!
(The lieutenant keeps sleeping. A man walks up to Kogarth and begins talking to him.)
Sonic: TOO BAD he’s an important character so what he has to say can wait until after I’ve described him! The man is named Omar Blajja. He is short (around 5’ tall) and Black, as well at rather muscular. He wears a yellow combat vest, with many pockets and pouches, a couple rips, and a circular white emblem over his heart. His hair is red and short and waves out in different directions, hidden by neither helmet nor hat. He also adorns himself with flexible combat pants. He wears on his back a huge backpack, and attached to the side of it is a scabbard as long as he is. Omar has no facial hair but does have two visible scars on his forehead and left cheek. On his hands he has metallic guards. Omar has a deep laugh and a large smile.
Omar: Don’t worry about the lieutenant too much. You’ve got to worry about Helga more.
(Omar points to a huge woman)
Sonic: Helga Ziegfander is an enormous, portly woman of Germany. She wears a moderately tight and official yellow jumpsuit and yellow jackboots. She has long and dirty reddish hair and a very chubby face, as well as Large, angry eyebrows and deep gray eyes. Upon her back attached by a number of straps is a huge, long, wide and dangerous-looking cannon of a gun. She stands tall at 6’7’’ and weighs approximately 320 lbs. She also has a large pack, held where the gun isn’t on her back. On her hip rests a vicious-looking flail, presumably for close combat.
Kogarth: Uh, why?
Omar: Because I have the feeling that she’s tougher than I am, not to mention her reputation as a slave-driver Sergeant precedes her. You probably won’t see the lieutenant at all, whereas she’ll be with you every day for the rest of your now-miserable life. She’ll eat you for breakfast if you cross her, to put it lightly.
Kogarth: What, figuratively or literally?
Omar: Hah. Probably both. All I know is I’m not screwing with her, and neither should you. Look, she’s throttling someone right now.
(Indeed, Helga has a normal-sized man with deep grey skin in the air by the neck and is shaking him by it with no trouble at all. She finally tosses the tattoo-ridden man to the ground.)
Kogarth: Guess she was never held as a child. Kogarth Ventceres, powerless cannon-fodder at large. (Omar reaches out his hand, but Kogarth doesn’t take it.)
Omar: Omar Blajja, attorney-general Mercenary swordsman, and retired ivory hunter. (takes the hand and shakes it) Just trying to keep alive, huh?
Kogarth: More or less. You?
Omar: Needed some cash real quick. Someone close to me is very sick. Gotta live through this, though.
Kogarth: What, someone’s sick in MOG?
Omar: I was shocked too, but thankfully there’s a doctor in that village. A very annoying and thrifty doctor who’s only supporting so long as my friend and I keep paying, of course.
Kogarth: Yeah, yeah, I don’t need your life’s stor-
Sonic: They are approached by a strong looking medium-sized woman of tan-coloured skin, red eyes, and black hair, wearing a raggedy yellow headband and a strange brown robe with a red praying mantis motif. She wears no shoes of any sort and carries a small-sized rucksack over her shoulders. Her name is Rete Sugroze, and she is a Sri Lankian martial artist of next to no renown. She uses her own style of martial arts, one that involves a lot of elbows to the groin and acrobatics, called “Tim”. What? Tim is a name. What does Kung Fu even mean, huh?
Rete: Hey, is this the 31BOREth company?
Kogarth: No, try going out that door there.
Rete: That’s an emergency exit, and we’re flying, weirdo.
Kogarth: Yeah, uh, we’re paratroops?
Omar: Don’t mind him, you’ve found the right place. I’m Omar Blajja. (points thumb to himself)
Kogarth: Don’t act like you know me, we just met.
Rete: Good! Now that I’m here, I need to find a sparring partner. If no one better appears, I nominate you, you jerk. Oh, and I’m Rete.
Kogarth: You must be veeeery proud of yourself.
Rete: I’ll ignore that
Omar: I’m a swordsman first, but I’m strong enough to do fisticuffs. If you’re not afraid of death-and considering you’re using no weapons in the biggest war yet I assume you aren’t-you might want to try the portly woman over there. We’ve also got a robot of some description and the aliens might be worth looking into. Anyone else is cannon-fodder or physically inept.
Rete: Well, I’ve still got a punching bag. I’m going to see the other members, later!
Kogarth: All right, now I’m getting somewhere. Two seconds ago I was cannon-fodder, but I’ve been promoted to punching-bag. Movin’ up the ranks here.
Omar: At least I’ll have someone to listen to with you around. Still, if I end up as your fireteam leader, I’m not going to be savin’ your ass left right and center, got it?
Kogarth: Well, I’m not sure I’ll need my ass so much. So long as you save the rest of my body, I’m just peachy. Say, the hell’s a fireteam? How does this stupid system work?
Omar: Good question. At the bottom is you, a single trooper.
Kogarth: I should count for two.
Omar: Shut up and listen. Four troops form a fireteam, the most efficient small group capable of completing objectives. Three fireteams form a squad, which is directed by a sergeant, like the Lady of Grace and Poise over there (Points to Helga, who smashes part of a rather long nail on her gargantuan fingers with her fist until it flies off).
(Another man walks up to them. He is-)
Sonic: I’ll take over from here.
Sonic: Amateur. Anyways, the man, James Timothy Erthyng is a medium-height-man in a zipped-up black jacket with two yellow sashes diagonally across his chest. His face is covered in a black-grey cowl, and his moonlight-marble glowing skin and two green eyes are visible. He wears black jeans, as well, and seems to have many pockets, as well as a black cape. James is also obviously of an odd shape for a man. As well, he thinks himself of a different identity altogether…
James: Greetings, allies! I am Shadowmaster, Destroyer of Cheesecake (rockin’ guitar solo and explosions)! My shining fist will blot out the heavens! Truly, war is the true theatre on which is it fit to test one’s manhood.
Kogarth: Smooth. So why side up with us assholes?
Shadowmaster: I, I perhaps may have gotten drafted. Prithee, surrender thy names, you who art my equals in death.
(Kogarth looks towards Omar and rolls his eyes. Omar responds by slapping his face and wiping it off)
Shadowmaster: Still thy face-hating hands and answer, fair warriors!
Kogarth: Yeah. I’m Kogarth, and this is Omar. And you’re annoying to listen to.
Omar: Please tell me you brought a weapon.
Shadowmaster: A blade is the true weapon of a man’s soul; without it we are lost and unable to make the choice of defense of those we love, or engaging attack upon our mortal foes, ‘ere they face us in their furies.
Omar: So, you’re a fellow swordsman?
Shadowmaster: Alas, but if only. I quickly found this axe in a dumpster before I came. ‘Tis all I know besides the cloths that drape upon my back.
(Shadowmaster holds a fire axe in a long-ish green tentacle)
Omar: Oookaaay, then. Any experience with axes?
Shadowmaster: Is it the weapon or the man who fights? A true soul is the real-
Kogarth: Hey, Omar! I’ve got a great idea.
Omar: Uh oh.
Kogarth: Why don’t you tell this clown about your philosophy on bushido and the warrior’s spirit for three hours whilst I mosey on over to see if I can steal someone’s hairpin or something to use as a weapon, ‘kay?
Omar: Wait, don’t leave me here to-
Shadowmaster: Man should endeavour to understand true combat between souls, even if his opinion must be challenged. Share thy point of viewing this matter, fair swords-swinger.
Omar: That’s alright, I don’t really-
Shadowmaster: such modesty does not befit a true man! Courage, and let your soul spring forth in glorious tales of the requisites of genuine strength!
Omar: Damn it, Kogarth!
(Kogarth heads over to find another woman, messing around with and cleaning a rather long gun)
Sonic: Amber T. Usurption is a rookie sniper. Her hair is darkish lime green and drapes behind her in a huge ponytail, accentuating her deep brown eyes.
Whew, one second, I’ve got to find a drink of water. These descriptions are a mouthful!
(What?! What’s to happen in the meantime?)
Sonic: I don’t know, stall or something!
(Ugh. Well, I guess I’ll have to tell you something worth reading in the meantime, huh? I’m going to focus on the other side of things for a second: The anti-Lupus Coalition. This is a force of approximately equal size and approaching equal strength to Lupus’ forces. The army is not particularly well organised, but it is run by a multitude of former heroes and figures from Southeast Europe, western Asia, and Northern Africa, as well as many American benefactors. Instead of the cheese-yellow jumpsuits of Lupusopolian forces, the average soldier wears a coat of deep, deep blue with a silver undershirt, trimmings, and any armour is also silver. There are plenty of troupes that wear nothing but black or camouflage, but so long as there is no yellow, it’s pretty well established that they are of the ALC.)
Sonic: I’m back.
(It’s about time!)
Sonic: Now, where was I? Let’s see… blurb about ALC, talkin… there! Alright, here goes. She wears a tight yellow tank-top with a light yellow jacket over top, and very tight yellow jumpsuit pants. She’s not a bad shot, but her speed in reloading leaves much to be desired. She comes from a family of South-western European farmers, and joined the conscription in order to offer a better source of income to them. She’s a bit shorter than the average woman, too.
Amber: Hey there, rookie.
Kogarth: You look like a girl that can handle a long shaft
(Amber is not prepared for such an awful line, and reels back, confused, and then lets out a high-pitched laugh)
Amber: That’s… that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard. You know, someone might have a great deal of paperwork to do on the subject of “mishandling long shafts” if you ever get near my sights on the battlefield.
Kogarth: I’d make a joke about getting “discharged”, but I’d rather
you didn’t think I was trying to flirt with you by playing along.
Amber: What’s your problem?
Kogarth: That I don’t have any. Except being completely unarmed while going into war, planning to survive it and make enough money to start a very successful business involving laundry detergent.
Amber: I do have a second gun, you know.
Kogarth: I’d beg, but then I’d have to use it on myself once you handed it over.
Amber: My father used it in the first MOG war – it’s a tri shooter with only one bullet left. It is however, a prototype weapon for firing cheapanium rounds, so you can keep picking the bullet up again, and it’s quite powerful. I’d use it as an emergency weapon, but the recoil is insane, and since I’ve got tonnes of ammo and it’s not too reliable in a very tight spot, there’s no reason, really.
Kogarth: Wow, this is like, the perfect weapon for someone with no skill whatsoever
. If I kill even one person with this, I’ve done my part for the –great- Lupus.
Amber: It’s heavy. Like, ten pounds heavy. You also probably won’t find any more cheapanium bullets, of any calibre. The bullet is also really heavy. It weighs like six pounds.
Kogarth: What a gyp. Let me guess, my holster’s gonna rip, too?
Amber: If you have a belt, the best you can do it chain it to that. This gun is one of a kind, so I feel pretty bad handing it to an asshole like you.
Kogarth: Thanks, I guess. Why are you giving me this relic, anyways? Assholes like me tend not to return these things.
Amber: Because there is one inevitability in this war: those who are inexperienced will die, sooner or later. I’ll be prying that gun out of your cold, dead hands sooner or later, and you might as well make yourself useful in the meantime. Also, I try to be a likable person.
Kogarth: Such warm and fuzzy thoughts coming from such an optimistic and fun girl! Any more sunshine on me and I’ll need cancer treatment. And now, I tire of looking at your face, and coupled with the fact that I’ve been completely bored listening to you, I’m going to find someone a little easier on the eyes.
Amber: Don’t strain yourself, creep.
Sonic: Kogarth comes across a man with grey skin and dark yellow tattooed markings all over, as well as dark yellow warpaint streaking his face. The man is entirely bald, and wears only a yellow loin to cover his hairless body. His pupils are devoid of colour – that is to say, they are coloured white. Actually, I guess it’s not fair to say he only wears a loin – he also has a freaking necklace of bones of who knows what.’ He’s missin’ an ear, no less. His name is not pronounceable in English, so for now we’ll refer to his grey ass (which is kinda showing) as Und.
Kogarth: Hey, Halloween’s not for a while. You might want to PUT SOME CLOTHES ON.
Und: Would you want to know the exact date and time of your death?
Kogarth: Can you tell my weight, too? Do I have to give you a quarter, or something?
Und: Do not mock me. I am the witch doctor of the secret He’mdall tribe. I’d rather not waste soulfire on you, but I will if you slow us down. Lupus has agreed to give my people steady employment in return for the aid of my village’s hexes.
Kogarth: Can’t they find jobs? They too busy sniffing glue, or something?
Und: I forsee that you will test my patience much in the weeks to come.
Kogarth: I forsee my boot up your ass if you try anything.
(A creepy big guy walks up behind them)
Sonic: Ulysses P. Beau-Declaire was a tall, wide Frenchman with burn scarring all over his face. The man wore the yellow army jumpsuit, but instead of the stock helmet, his was more like a hardhat with a visor. On his back was a large tank full of flammable liquid attached beside it was a gun with a long nozzle and apparently something to start a fire with. It was hard to tell through the soot-stained visor, but his eyes are light brown in colour, and his hair is blue and short. The eyes have a sort of lifeless look to them, as if he’s got no soul or something OH WOW SOULLESS LOOKING GUY VERY ORIGINAL. Never the less, there are things wrong with this man.
Kogarth: That’s not a word, is it?
Amber: He’s French, you idiot.
Kogarth: So? Why isn’t he speaking English? You speak English. I speak English. Omar speaks English. Und over there speaks English, can-you-believe-it. Shadowmaster’s an alien or something and speaks English.
Amber: ALIEN? Who’s Shadowmaster?
Kogarth: I’d introduce him to you, but I don’t really like either of you and I’d rather you weren’t in the same place with me.
Ulysses: Do you know what it feels like to set a person on fire?
Kogarth: I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I can’t say that I do.
Ulysses: It is the single most liberating thing on this planet or in this universe.
Kogarth: Yeaaah. I’ll have to just take your word on that one. You’re short Yakko and Dot, buddy.
(A white man with blond hair steps up to Amber)
Man: Hey there, cutie. It’s always nice to see a girl in uniform.
(Amber points to Helga, who is scratching her bottom with her morning star.)
Man: I mean, it’s also nice to see you’re not literally in uniform. (teeth shine)
Sonic: Brendan Thompson was a good looking white man, possessed of shining blond hair, dark blue eyes, and model-physique. His smile is dazzling, and he carries a submachine gun on his hip. He wears jeans and a yellow leather jacket, as well as sunglasses that are entirely too short to cover his eyes. He also wears biker gloves, because no one else is wearing biker gloves so why not wait don’t answer that argh
Kogarth: It’s also
also nice to see you get lost.
Brendan: You wanna start somethin’, tough guy? I’m Brendan Thompson, a man who’d protect a lady’s honor, no matter the cost. I’m gonna punch your face in! Let’s GO!
Kogarth: I want to start your departure
. Beat it.
Brendan: No good punk! I’m a good guy (Hair blows in wind), and even if I can’t remember my painful past, I’ll kick yer ass!
Kogarth: That’s only a half-rhyme.
Brendan: Grrr! Why you! You are now my rival! I promise you, you won’t get away with this! C’mere!
(Brendan takes a swing and Kogarth just steps backwards)
Brendan: I’ll crush you, even if it takes all of my stren-
(Brendan is picked up by one of Helga’s hands)
Helga: You are feisty little one. You lack discipline… but do not worry, for Helga has much to spare.
Brendan: I’m the hero! I’ll get stronger and definitely kick yer’ ass! COUNT ON IT!
Amber: I’m glad he’s gone.
Ulysses: Maybe if he’s too loud, they’ll let me burn him. Yes, I look forward to it.
Und: That one is going to be trouble. I will request permission to place a silencing hex on him.
Kogarth: You guys are boring. If I wanted opinions I didn’t care about, I’d just use the internet, or something. Onto the next cardboard cut-out.
Amber: Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?
Kogarth: Well, there’s black, common-sense-endowed swordsman, feisty kung-fu girl, theatrical clumsy idiot, huge German monster female named Helga, homicidal French guy, weird tribal witch doctor, Blond-ass crude drama-queen over there (Brendan’s being spanked by Helga’s morning star), and you, the stock sniper chick who’s kinda hot and is coming on to me despite my constant insulting her.
Amber: You’ve talked to us for like a minute each! Besides, this is MOG! People just need an excuse to be who they are!
Kogarth: All I’m saying is I wouldn’t grieve for years if I had to bury any of you. I just hope the last few members of the bunch are a little more interesting.
(Kogarth is grabbed by a shiny, silver tongue and quickly eaten by a figure beside him. Smoke and dust and the sound of gears grinding come from the creature as it craps out a huge Metallic egg)
Sonic: Evil Scientist Project #567.12332435, Codename “Yami over easy”, Nickname “Roboshi”. Was meant to be a suitable mechanical adversary for the OG Six member Yami Yoshi, but by the time ESD had reverse engineered the principles of his Dark Egg, the aging machine was no match for Yami’s prowess. It was reprogrammed for short ranged anti-vehicular or artillery support in future combat situations, simply since ESD was bored and had just invented a machine that was a much better coffee server. Outer plating is entirely made of steel, inner parts are mostly titanium or Aluminium. Equipped with a hydrogen-3 engine (The main source of its combat inefficiencies), and a matter creator for both TWIF-TECH Grenades and TWIF-TECH Grenades that split apart to blow up just not cluster bombs no way, and capable of turning objects into “dud” eggs through ingesting them. Punches and kicks with a force of 500 N, approximately. Roboshi is also equipped with “hover-jump-jets” in legs, as well as perhaps other hidden weapons. How many more of these are there?
Roboshi: Target acquired. Terminating. (Roboshi creates an egg in his hand and begins to throw it at Kogarth, but it is intercepted by Helga)
Helga: Robot is not well programmed.
Roboshi: Erroneous statement, Hell Gah. I was programmed by Ei vel sci n tist dew-duh. I am simply removing a target.
Helga: Well, you will stop this at once, or I will crush you into tiny ball of scrap and shoot baskets.
Roboshi: Affirmative. Ceasing fire. (His fingers turn into a screwdriver thing and he puts it into a slot and turns it a bit, disarming the egg.)
Helga: And now for egg. Is nach gudt. (Helga smashes the metallic egg with her fist and it breaks open completely and immediately. Kogarth slides out, covered in Silicone and what have you)
Kogarth: I feel like I’ve been let out of a metal womb. I’m glad that someone had the good sense to put a metal reptile in our squad.
Helga: You are weak and whiner. I will knock your flabby weakness out of you.
(Helga reaches for Kogarth, who very quickly jumps backwards)
Helga: You are quick on your feet, jaa? Ist good. You could be quite useful to Lupus, Herr Slippery. Zis is yours.
(Helga tosses Kogarth a combat knife)
Kogarth: I guess it’s better than nothing.
Helga: You vill learn to appreciate zis in time.
Kogarth: I don’t think I’ll ever care for looking at you, though.
Helga: Hwa hah hah
! You are a funny one, Herr Slippery. But maybe leave before I do not think you are so funny, and then give you humourous look.
Kogarth: With pleasure.
(Two people approach Kogarth, a man and a woman.)
Sonic: What, two people? Okay, then…
The man’s name is Keith Steele. He wears the regular yellow jumpsuit, except there are extra steel plates on the outsides of his arms and legs, and as well he wears a kitchen pot for a helmet. His white skin and dark purple eyes reverberate off of the moonlight just so and also I am having trouble describing all this shit and saying something different then “He had x colour eyes and y colour skin”. He’s kinda tall, and he’s got an average TWIF-TECH semi-automatic melon baller as a weapon. He has a stubble of hair on his chin. His hair is more or less black, but it is greying in many spots.
The woman’s name is Astral Pierce, and she wears a rather tight and form-fitting yellow jumpsuit and helmet. Her green eyes twinkle as she looks over Kogarth, and then stop, as she is unimpressed. It’s notable that the only skin she shows is her hands, which is more tan than white. She also carries the TFTK4 melon baller, but she also seems to have a decent supply of fireworks and grenades in a satchel on her back. She’s a little taller than the average woman, but she’s of average size, otherwise. Her hair colour is hidden through the helmet visor, but it is turquoise.
Astral: Perhaps you are a bit more civilised in scratching the grain. Feel imprisoned to yell us what flavour is best.
Keith: Miss Pierce here uses a Lupusopolian dialect of English. As far as I can tell, she’s still adjusting to speak so we can understand. Keith Steele, by the way.
Kogarth: What I don’t understand is why I have to talk to you. Don’t care about your name, by the way.
Keith: What? Well I figur-
Kogarth: And as far as I care, she can speak in any dialect she likes, since I won’t be listening to her anyways.
Keith: You’re a dick.
Kogarth: At least you can call me something. You guys are so non descript that-
Keith: Listen, pal
. We’re gonna be around each other for a long
while now, so we’re just-
Kogarth: Wrong. You’re going to die very early on and I won’t be hanging around forever, anyways.
Keith: Oh, I see. Well, that doesn’t bother me too much, then.
Kogarth: What? Why the hell not? You’ll be dead
. Deader than the audience after watching movies like Retitled
and MPVP in Paris
Keith: That may be true. You see, whatever your name is-
Kogarth: (OoC: Look at the script)
Keith: (OoC: What where)
Kogarth: (OoC: The name that isn’t your name and by coincidence has the same first letter)
Keith: (OoC: I have a disability, man! I can’t read past the first letter!)
Kogarth: I’m Kogarth. I’m actually interested in what you have to say. So say it
Keith: Well, perhaps before I tell my story, an apology to the lady who hasn’t had any lines in a while is in order.
Astral: HEH HEH HEH
Kogarth: Yeah don’t push your luck
Keith: Fair enough. I started a little company called nanosoft.
Kogarth: What? But nanosoft is huge! That-
Keith: I decided I was tired of paperwork, Kogarth. I was tired of the same boring lifestyle, decisions that didn’t influence my life. I tried starting other companies to expand, but they just supported themselves off my first one. There was no thrill like starting the first one. The danger. Being on the cusp of bankruptcy.
Kogarth: So, you are seriously doing this for thrills? When you have money and security?
Keith: When you’re an older man, Kogarth, you may understand. Thrills are all that’s left for a man that’s clawed his way to the top, only to find the journey was the only part he enjoyed. Plus, hey, it’s great exercise.
Kogarth: I’m going to use the money I’ve been payed to enter the war to start a company, you crazy old bastard. I concocted a new detergent that will obliterate the competition, and-
Keith: Smart. Too smart for your own good. But hey, you’re young. Plenty of things to do…
Kogarth: People to do…
Keith: Yeah, I’ll miss that. It’s too late for any more of that, anyways. Just… you aren’t much of a businessman, you know. You lack any form of common courtesy, or more importantly, control. Intelligence and nuts and a first product are good, but…
(what’s the problem now?)
Sonic: This is not way past cool that they’re still talking about boring business. Cut it loose and let it juice!
(Uh, okay. Keith and Kogarth suddenly lose interest in the subject)
Kogarth: Yeah, whatever. I’m not taking any advice from a suicidal old fossil like you.
Keith: That’s not a very nice thing to do when someone’s trying to help you out. You’ll understand in due time, but for now you piss me off.
Kogarth: You should probably check your blood pressure then. I’ll leave you to that. Now, to-
(A sharp feeling touches the back of Kogarth’s neck. He freezes.)
Trench coated man: Kogarth Ventceres. Went to Lupuspolian Primary school of Bombay. Went to European high school Blue Kingdom High. Won the Skyblue chemistry test award. Went to the Tokyo University of Chemistry and Fine Arts and graduated with mediocre marks. Has remained jobless to this day since. Parents recently deceased, dead in a fire. Fear of bright lights. Allergic to Guacamole and Bee venom. Favourite foods are Apple pie and Butterscotch Ripple fudge. Is an asshole.
Trench coated man: What do you mean, okay? I just listed off everything about you!
Kogarth: That’s pretty common and easy-to-find knowledge on me.
Trench coated man: You’re the fifth one who hasn’t been faked out by all this. You’re also the last one to the party. I’m Kuschef Mikalov, part of this unit. My origins will stay secret to you.
Kogarth: (pulls out wireless device connected to internet) Let’s see… Oh, you have a Myspace page.
Kogarth: One of your groups is called “SECRET AGENTS OF THE RUSSIAN MAILMEN
”. I can probably pull up a list of the rest of them using this.
Kuschef: It’s just some club.
Kogarth: Care to gamble on what Helga thinks of your ‘club’?
Kuschef: …I had way too much to drink that night.
Kogarth: Good thing, for me. Now, if you don’t want all that getting to Helga, who will eat your heart like it is Wiener schnitzel, you’ll do exactly as I say.
Kuschef: I see. What are your demands?
Kogarth: Besides sticking around for further blackmailing, I’ll need to know the information you know in advance, and I might need whatever strings you can pull to get me a ride out of there, eventually. Keep it low-key, if you can manage that.
Kuschef: You know, Kogarth, I’ve been sent here to weed out spies.
Kogarth: What? Aren’t you a sp-
Kuschef: Shh! It’d be beneficial for my organization if Lupus won this war. I’ve been sent as one of the spy sniffers. To that end, I need my guise secret. Kapish?
Kogarth: And you’ll be really subtle with your whole sharpened letters thing, too.
Kuschef: I brought a gun, of course. Or possibly multiple guns. How many and where they’re hidden on me aren’t for you to know.
Kogarth: I’m not really worried about getting shot by you. You won’t be able to hide it too easily, and on the battlefield you’ll have other prerogatives.
Kuschef: I haven’t had a challenge in a while. Watch your back. (Fades into shadows)
Kogarth: I know you’re still in that corner.
Kuschef: There isn’t really anywhere to go, now is there, my dicky old chum?
Sonic: Yeah, Kuschef really just introduced himself, didn’t he? He wears a yellow trenchcoat and black Cossack hat. He also wears boots. His alleged history is that upon escaping the Soviets that he joined Lupuspolian forces to keep himself safe and employed. Kuschef is very probably not his real name. Other than that, well, he’s Russian and really shady. He has no moustache, but he does a bit of a spikey beard. His eyes are golden, but his hair is black. I don’t know anything else those Russians are really good with secrets and Myspace scares me.
Helga: Listen up, you tapeworms.
Kogarth: Oh, trying to hurt my feelings?
Helga: I am simply honest person, Herr Slippery. Fireteams are as this:
TEAM ONE: Leader: Roboshi
Underlings: Ulysses, Amber, Kuschef.
TEAM TWO: Leader: Omar
Underlings: Kogarth, Rete, Shadowmaster.
TEAM THREE: Leader: Astral
Underlings: Brendan, Keith, Und.
I vill be support all team, but mostly Third one. Squad duties will be as follows.
Brendan: Duties? Heroes do not need duties!
Helga: You… I vill teach you humbleness one vay or another, Herr Giveaway Position. Positions are as FOLLOWS. I and team leaders vill have hands full with administrative duties zo we cannot do second job. Herr Communist scum. You are to be scout.
Kuschef: Makes sense.
Helga: Herr Slippery. You are medik.
Kogarth: I hope you’re sick first.
Helga: Herr Giveaway Position. You are in charge of gathering.
Brendan: I object to that! A hero needs no particular conventional skills!
Omar: Shut up and accept your job so we can hurry this along.
Keith: We all hafta pull our weight, son.
Helga: Herr Shakespeare. You are in charge of cooking.
Shadowmaster: Shadowmaster, the destroyer of cheesecake, is glad to take up the glorious battle of culinary measures. My soul shall fan the flames tha-
Helga: Herr Right Attitude. You will assist in food preparation. Do not burn down kitchen.
Helga: Frau Suicidal, Herr Suicidal. Be zo kind as to take care of ammunition.
Rete: Oh, great. I’ll just be in charge of something I know nothing about.
Keith: She’s splitting up jobs like this for a reason, kid. I’ll handle the knowledge, if you can most of the heavy lifting. Whatever clips the Sergeant handles will probably break my back to lift. Each to their own strength, though in your case it’s more of a literal thing.
Rete: Well, if I just look at it like weight lifting, I was wondering how I’d go about doing that anyways. It’s not like I’ll be any better at cooking, anyways.
Helga: Frau Long shaft. You are on surveying duty. You vill use scope to see long distances and help plan route.
Amber: Sounds really boring. Also please think of a better nickname for me.
Helga: Take game boy vith you. Vill be okay.
Und: I hope you do not expect anything of me.
Helga: No, you are off of hook, Herr Indecent Exposure. You vill spend much time with research und components, Jaa?
Und: Whatever is best for my people.
Helga: What is best for all you people is what is best for Kaiser Lupus. Now we vill leave for transports to Flim immeeediately. Those who are too slow will miss lift.
Amber: What, so we’ll have to catch the next one?
Helga: No. And ve are very
(Most of the group gets the hint, and they exit the large briefing room I never told you about in a hurry, to their specific hanger. There seems to be a sock-shaped transport plane.)
Helga: Get in.
Omar: That’s a sock. Shoeboxes are one thing, bu-
Helga: Sock is Kommandant Fred’s design. Very aerodynameeec.
Keith: You only live once, Mr. Blajja.
Omar: Exactly my point!
Helga: Get on plane or falling to your death will be least of problems.
Amber: Relaaax. Lupusopolian engineering is world renown, isn’t it?
Keith: That’s right.
Kogarth: It’s world-renown for being impressive, not for doing what it is supposed to do. I’ve heard stories of a Lupusopolian hospital turning into a tank and using a chemical weapon on a city. I bet this thing flies backwards.
Roboshi: Do not mock Lupusopolian design. Chance of survival is 98.877%.
(Kogarth steps onto the sock-plane)
Rete: I’m not comfortable not relying on my own two fists… but they got us here in one piece.
Shadowmaster: The majesty of flight is a celestial power which we have mimicked. To-
(Rete kicks Shadowmaster on and jumps in herself.)
Astral: Such docking prowess reminds me of when I was a melon rind. (sniff).
Omar: There isn’t anything safer?
Und: The threads of fate seem to say this craft will hold aloft. It will be enough.
Omar: Not really though, right? You’re just trying to bolster everyone’s courage?
Und: Only time will tell, for you.
Omar: I’m really starting to hate technology and magic.
Brendan: C’mon! We’ve gotta kick some ass, and jumping on a plane’s the only way
Omar: None of you are very smart, are you? Oh well; he’s right in a way.
(They all board the plane and the floor under them collapses, the plane flies into a nose dive.)
Helga: Did everyone go to der bathroom?
Brendan: Well actually-
(The plane’s jet engine starts and a flame ignites behind the ship. Although you’d think it should propel the plane downwards, it moves upwards and towards their destination ridiculously fast: Lupus’ scientists call this phenomenon Reverse-Engineering.)
Omar: What do you know? It does
Kogarth: I’m not firing this gun until I know which way it shoots. Amber!
Amber: You have a fifty percent chance. Or, you could shoot it sideways.
Kogarth: I bet you modified it to shoot out the sides, you stupid bitch
Amber: Ah, well… if you’re going to be impolite to the person who knows, then I guess I’ll take that as if you don’t really want to know which way it shoots.)
Kogarth: Well, I’ll just do this, then.
(Kogarth puts the gun up to her head, barrel forwards and cocks it, and Amber ducks very quickly, then crab walks away, backwards.)
Kogarth: Bullets come out the barrel. That settles that.
Amber: You crazy-
Kogarth: Settle down. I’m not going to shoot you. With so many witnesses around.
Amber: Yeah, I guess not. But I wouldn’t give you it if it fired backwards. It’d be too useful to give up.
Und: Something is about to happen.
Rete: Ack! Why did I pick a window seat ohgod ohgod
Omar: Calm down. What’d you- Pilot!
Pilot Light: Yeah? I’m really getting the hang of this tennis-based piloting system. I wasn’t sure I could do it, bu-
Omar: Evasive action!
Pilot: What, like use my backhand?
Omar: You’ve got three bogeys on you!
Keith: We’re sitting ducks, and our pilot’s incompetent.
Astral: Flip jabberwocky moon rays towards gargle-
Keith: Stop swearing and do something!
Amber: I guess I’ll have to deal with this. Watch the windows, I need accurate readings on shots so I do the least depressurizing possi-
(Helga opens a window, sticks her head and gun out the side, and fires a gigantic beam. She gradually sweeps the beam through all three fighters, but not before two of them eject. Helga comes back in and shuts the window.)
Shadowmaster: But that was anti-climatic! ‘Tis not true victory, as we were not contested!
Kogarth: You’re not dead. Unfortunately.
Omar: It doesn’t matter how we win so long as we do. However… Helga, how much ammo do we have for that thing?
Helga: We haff much of the beam ammunition. Less of the other ammo. Too expensive. Vill go fast in vwar.
Pilot: Uh, guys?
Und: Oh. Hm.
Pilot: I’m kinda playing at deuce. The plane’s not going to go anywhere for now, and if I lose that will be bad. Man, if I die weekday’s gonna get fat.
Und: It is likely he will not lose. However-
Omar: They must have known we were coming!
Astral: Chow yun fat is their IQ!
(The team looks out the window to see an enemy troop transport rushing towards them)
Helga: Most of our forces must be dealink with zis right now.
Rete: Well, it doesn’t matter what they do. We can’t let them get to the Pilot. Someone shoot that thing down.
Helga: No, zey are comink in too quickly. I do not know what zey are trying to do.
(The enemy transport rams the side of the plane, and a platform fires across into their room)
Rete: This is it!
Shadowmaster: Finally, my edge will pierce through darkness to shatter my foe!
Omar: Hold up, everyone. They’ve probably got automatic weapons.
Helga: He is right. But zey will be trapped inside their tunnel.
(Helga grabs the end of the tunnel and crushes it into itself. In a superhuman feat of strength, she forces a creaking of metal and finally effectively wads up their only way in.)
Kogarth: That’s something else.
Rete: Now how do we get at them?
Omar: You will see.
(screams are heard as well as footsteps in the attached tunnel)
Helga: One has ran straight into the wall! NOW!
(Omar unsheathes a pure white blade. The blade is huge and long, and the end spikes out at both sides and continues into a long sharp spike in the middle. However the sides are razor sharp, and Omar slices the end of the tunnel that’s just barely protruding through the wall)
Omar: !! Helga! Part of that was a wire! I cut a wire!
Helga: A Bomb! Damn! I cvant get it in time to push it off!
Rete: Then allow me! Sigh-Wah! (Rete jump kicks the boarding tunnel halfway out the window, and a few soldiers are pulled out due to the air pressure. However, A chainsaw is heard, and five submachine-gun wielding soldiers step out of the side of the tunnel as it collapses into the wall and covers the hole it initially made. The bomb flies out and explodes behind the ship))
Kolgarth: I could swear you guys weren’t invited.
Squad leader: Cute. Open fire!
(The squad leader rides a horse through Keith, knocking him to the side, and slashes Roboshi with an officer’s sword as it leaps at him, smashing him into the ground. However, his horse runs head first into Helga and slows to a crawl, finally collapsing of exhaustion. Helga picks it up as Rete jumps at the commander, spinning to avoid the sword and forcibly elbowing him into the ground. Keith opens fire on the leader and hits him a number of times, killing him, as another man tackles him to the ground. Kolgarth puts away the cheapanium gun and instead pulls out his knife from his holster, and throws it at the man’s back, completely missing. He pulls the gun out again, but is thrown to the ground as Shadowmaster is kicked into him.
The man who kicked Shadowmaster has started firing on Amber, who is hiding behind whatever crates she can find. Another man fires at Astral and Omar, but Omar simply continuously deflects the bullets while Astral returns fire, and he is forced into cover behind a piece of the tunnel. Amber can see the man from behind her cover, and fires, killing him. A woman follows up on Shadowmaster’s kicker with two glowing cutlasses. She stabs towards Shadowmaster, but finds a kick in the stomach from Kolgarth. Staggered, Shadowmaster swings his three tentacles at her, each with a weapon: an axe and two knives. She flips back quickly, only to find herself parrying Roboshi’s fist, launching her into a crate where Brendan finishes her off. Und at the moment is focusing on keeping Ulysses from burning the plane down, and the last man attempts to start up his mini-minigun, but is forced to keep dodging as he is buffeted by attacks from six people. Finally, Helga smashes him into a paste with her morning star.)
Kolgarth: That was fun
Keith: See? Thrills are what it’s about, kid.
Shadowmaster: Our wills met in battle most glorious – however ours triumphed due to the righteousness of our machinations! This will go re-
Rete: Whoa… we just killed them?
Brendan: It was kill or be killed. A hero is gr-
Omar: Not necessarily.
Und: We could have taken prisoners.
Amber: And we could have been taking our chances.
Helga: If keeping everyone alive is what you vant to do, you haff signed up for wrong draft.
Astral: Twenty scoops of blood on my frozN throne disk yum lum
Kogarth: This war is dumb.
Helga: Vhat did you just say?
Kogarth: We’re going to wipe out one side of the extremes of people, and more in the process. That means there’ll be only half the workforce. Half the potential consumers. Half the thinking power. What if there’s another alien invasion? You never know what those Kraps are up to.
Kuschef: What did I miss? I was in the bathroom, comrades.
Astral: Pallid timing, tight-laced fun one.
Amber: Oh, nothing. I think we’r-
Keith: They’re back, and it looks like they’re not giving up.
Kuschef: Who’s back?
Shadowmaster: True men do not give up; our foes are worthy ones indeed.
Omar: This is not even the tip of the iceburg… I doubt they risked more than a few ships to take out our transports, especially since they’ve got AA guns. But they’re out of options. They might just be calling fighter planes on our position.
Helga: Not qvite. Zey still have option of kamikaze.
Shadowmaster: What a tragic happenstance; for a man’s soul blazes brightly only before it is extinguished.
Brendan: Well, that’s not happening to us. I’ve got a plan.
Brendan: We put an explosive charge on some luggage and dump it out the back at them.
Rete: Too bad these are all essential supplies, except, uh, this box of ravenous rubber duckies. We don’t have any explosives that we won’t have to shoot to make explode. Why can’t Helga shoot again?
Helga: Zey are right on our tail. Ist too dangerous to make another hole. Ack!
Omar: They’re coming!
Rete: If it makes it in, hold on tight, and I’ll kick the plane out of here.
Helga: …No. I vill sacrifice mine life if need be. Amber.
Amber: Yeah, I’ll try to hit the fuel line now. Okay, I’ve got to get a good loo-
Kuschef: It’s too late! The fuel line is in the back of that transport!
Omar: They’re getting close!
(A flame bursts from the back of the chasing plane. It is apparent that they have ignited the remainder of fuel at the back of the transport.)
Kolgarth: Well, I wish I could have gone another way. I’ll be in the bathroom, so I’m not sharing my final moments with you guys.
(The plane advances within 100m of their plane with an incalculable speed, boosted by their explosive desperation. Debris is kicked up from it as a still shot of the protagonists looking worried and bracing for impact comes up and there is a fade to black even though this is a piece of writing shut up)
END OF CHAPTER