Orchestrated By C.M. Rich (Magnetman)
By Crystalgirl, Makenshi, Mandrill, Zapper
An hour after Surviving Berlin
Location: Ten Miles East of Berlin
“Someone’s going to die for this.” CrystalChan growled softly, pressing her back against one of the floating chunks of gemstone that constantly accompanied her. The roaring fire outside the small barricade she had created, along with the extreme temperature on the inside, alerted her that the Napalm Nuke was still working its magic. Grumbling softly, she shifted a bit, and kicked at the motionless body that lay before her. The presumably dead leader of the Gladiators was still clutching her leg, hands wrapped around her shin in a vice-like grip. She glared at the body. “This is all your fault.”
Mere seconds before the Nuke had made contact with the area, the female SA Officer had surrounded herself and BladeMan with her crystals. She hadn’t been keen on the idea of protecting the nescience, and cause of her near-death, but it couldn’t be helped. As the missile had made impact, she’d silently thanked the General that her shields were fire-proof, thusly allowing her the comfort of not being any more melted than she was.
By the time the fires had died down, it had been nearly half a day. Almost twelve hours of being baked like a cake in that goddamned oven of a shelter. Standing and allowing the crystals to return to their original positions, she noticed for the first time that her left eye wasn’t functioning. That… that fire-spewing bastard! He’d blinded her in one eye! The realization made her already horrible mood worsen, and it only furthered when she realized BladeMan’s lifeless corpse was still clinging to her leg.
Letting out a horrifying and shrill scream of rage, she smashed her free foot into the Gladiator’s leader’s face. There was a pleasant scraping and crunching noise as the synthetic flesh and metallic skull gave way. Chuckling dryly, she kicked again, this time with enough force to dislodge him from her.
“Take that, you dead bastard.” She snarled, before teleporting back
Two days after Standoff
It is quite an amusing turn of events that I have witnessed recently. Makenshi's clever shot did untold amounts of damage to my systems, but it seems that, ultimately, I'll remain unhindered by sucha wound, at the very least not after my lovely stay at the infirmery. It is not nearly as horrible as the other officers make claim it to be. Of course, they did not have the brilliance of Chopan, Bach, and other such geniuses to keep them company. The General takes good care of his officers.
Speaking of the good General, he and I had a brief conversation earlier this morning. We discusses biblical passages, of all things. Of course, his views were corruptions of their original intent, in all honesty, but I suppose one can inerpret the script in any way they choose. I do admire his brilliant mind, though, and his rapier wit. I'm still somewhat unsettled by the presence of Mesmerman, however. The sensation of my mind being invaded is maddening, and I'm sure I'm not always even aware of this. I can feel him leeching off the volumes of data stored in my memory, and it's quite frustrating. Though, I do admire his simplicity and power, and I cannot bring myself to dislike him personally.
Regardless, I'm quite happy with how the war is currently boding. I've become more comfortable with sending these humans to God. How selfish they can be. Honestly, they have their own paradise awaiting them (I suppose not all of them). The least they could do for their own pitious creations would be to let them live in peace. I never wish to be unmade from this world... The fires of Hell would be prefferable to the droning sting of nothingness.
Oh, and today I did get the upgrade that I so yearned for. The good General supplied me with the necessary resources, and I feel that my power has increased a great deal from my original state. My control over Dark Energy is... breathtaking... I'll continue gathering data, making myself stronger as time wears on. Eventually, should I live on, I'll become a force even Mesmerman and Cutman would fear. Of course, this would be the ideal scenario.
(Three days after Stage 1)
Rome. Oh how I pine for this country. The General was kind enough to station me in this area. The culture, the architecture, the art, the history. All so fascinating. St. Peter's Basilica, the Colloseum, Vatican Museums, the Work of artists such as Michaelangelo. All breathtaking. Of course, Mesmerman was the first to suggest that I wipe the human culture from the face of the Earth using his new toys. However, I'm sure he knows that I absolutely detest the idea of just laying waste to such a site. I will gladly exterminate all lifeforms, but I'll not just destroy such priceless art and architecture, at least willingly.
However, if Mesmerman's offering a squad of his Seige Joes, I'll gladly take them. They should compliment my own Dark Joes rather well. I've outfitted my own custom troops with better scythe blades, mounted to their busters much like bayonettes. Regardless, anyone who is unfortunate enough to stumble across my wake will soon find themselves better off dead. With my new troops and new powers, I'll not have another... mishap.
I do so hope to see my brother, Vincent, on the battlefeild someday before he dies. I do hope to convince him to join our side completely. He feigns allegience with the good General, but I know my dear brother far too well. His only allegience is to himself. Hopefully he'll not get himself killed. I start my seige at the break of dawn. God preserve me.
This was all Charge’s goddamn fault. The factory was Napalm Man‘s
dead to rights, and the Gladiators were running scared. They got a
lucky shot in, and blinded him, but it didn’t make a goddamn
difference. They had signed their death warrants by strolling into
HIS territory. If he couldn’t pick them off, the rest of the
Androids could. Then Thomas the Tank Moron came roaring through and
tore down his factory without a second thought. If that wasn’t
enough, the Gladiators weaseled their way out of HIS city and made
complete asses out of HIS squad. And the best part was the General
blamed HIM for his troops’
incompetence (or rather Charge‘s). Never mind the fact it was
the General’s brilliant idea to build a train robot of mass destruction
the size of a building, and then not give him enough sense or reason
to tell his head from his coal-puffing ass. What the in the hell was
he thinking?! No, this whole mess was Chargeman’s fault, not
his. And everyone on his maggot-faced team was going to know that.
Napalm Man angrily strode down the halls of Home, carrying a set of paper dinner plates and dragging a Joe that met its explosive end in Berlin. He brought it home with him to make a point with his troops. Napalm Man burst into the maintenance bay and found his worthless team lying on metal slabs undergoing repairs. Some of them were just undergoing routine maintenance, like Stone and Gyro. Others, like Wave were still being patched up after they let a handful of dead and dying sacks of mandrill shit get the better of them. And that worthless piece of shit, Charge Man was lying back half of the room, and practically needed his own goddamn garage to accommodate his crazy ass, complete with electromagnetic restraints holding him in place. Even when he was being patched up, he still had a bad habit of flying into a blind rage and pound anyone unfortunate to be in arm’s reach of him into paste.
“Well, well, well! Look at what the cat shat out!” Napalm greeted, his gaze fixed on his troops as they laid there like the sacks of shit they were. “I want to know what you all are doing to my outfit!” Napalm Man berated. “You handed those maggots that factory in a pretty bow and waved to them as they walked out the door! Do you need me to hold your goddamn hands and kill every thumb-sucking lowlife that gets in your way!? For Elysium‘s sake! You’re all living weapons! Built to kill anything stupid enough to stand in our way! That‘s all we do now! That‘s all we want to do! Isn‘t it?!”
“Sir, yes sir!“ The Androids responded en masse as they simply stared blankly ahead. Napalm Man turned his gaze towards Charge. “Charge Man!!”
“Sir!” Charge responded
“Are you goddamn deaf?!
“Sir, no sir!”
“Do you speak English?!”
“Sir, yes sir!”
“Do you know what the words, ‘Cease’, ‘Desist’, and ‘Stand down’ mean you locomotive clusterfuck?!”
“Sir, yes sir!”
“Then why in the name of all that’s sacred did you come roaring through my factory after I ordered you to stand down?! What are trying to do our fine army?!”
“Sir! Nothing! Sir! I just couldn’t control myself, sir!”
“Just couldn’t control yourself?! What are you, some schoolgirl that can’t keep from pissing herself?!”
“Sir, no sir!” Napalm Man was getting nowhere out of this waste of steel. Frustrated, he threw his arms up and turned to face Gravity. Napalm was in a pretty foul mood with Gravity as well, since he seemed to be curiously absent during the Gladiators’ raid on the factory. What was his goddamn excuse?
“And where on Elysium’s green goodness were you?!” Napalm demanded, pointing his guns at Gravity Man. “Why in the hell didn’t you respond to my signal? You think you’re above my orders?!”
“What? I was having fun with some of RPD forces that came in,” he replied calmly, grinning slightly. Napalm wasn’t amused.
“You find something hilarious about this?!” Napalm screamed.
“You should’ve seen how the just crumpled in on themselves. It was pretty…exquisite. No two cop collapsed in on itself the same way. It was like-”
“Well if you think that’s funny, then here’s something that’s a laugh riot!” Napalm interjected as he threw down the Joe’s battered remains in plain sight of his troops. The rest of the Androids watched quietly and intently as Napalm pulled out a combat knife and hacked the pathetic robot into as many pieces as possible. He then went over to Charge as the magnetic restraints kept the behemoth in place. Napalm Man angrily plunged his knife into the “Hell Train’s” right hand and cut off slivers of metal. Charge howled and screamed, but he restraints still held. They’ve seen worse out of him. Napalm Man gathered Charge’s scraps up and repeated the did the same thing with Gravity Man. Gravity Man quietly winced in pain, but to his part kept his sewer shut, and instead kept his gaze fixed on his captain, his eyes narrowed. Napalm Man ignored him and scooped up his scraps too. Tossing Gravity’s and Charge’s scraps in the pile with the Joe’s, Napalm Man sprinkled the scraps on each of the plates as though he were making a salad. Once all the dishes were prepared, Napalm Man placed each one on his soldiers’ laps.
“Eat up, boys and girls! It’s on me!” Napalm proclaimed proudly. The androids looked at their “cuisine” with revulsion and disbelief. Did they think he was joking?! That he was playing around?!
“If you all don’t eat that, I’ll personally shove every bite down your goddamn throats!!” Napalm bellowed, his various canons cocking and locking onto random Androids. Stone Man picked a fistful of Gravity and Charge hesitantly, his hands shaking. But by some fucking miracle, the box of rocks managed to bring himself to take a bite. The rest of the androids followed suit, once they finally realized that this wasn’t some joke.
“You like the taste of that, maggots?!” Napalm Man asked as his team reluctantly ate the charred, jagged pieces of their comrades. “You like the taste of failure?! Because that’s what these three are!” Napalm snarled, gesturing towards the Joe, Gravity and Charge. “And you are what you eat, isn’t that right?!” Napalm Man had to force feed Charge personally. There’s no way he could feed himself with his restraints on. Halfway through, Charge started heaving, like he was about to spit up.
“Don’t you even-” Napalm snarled as he pointed his guns at Charge’s face. Charge man “Finish it! If you don‘t, I‘ve got something else you can chow down on!” Charge Man glared at Napalm Man resentfully, but Napalm didn‘t give a rat’s ass. He was getting what he deserved, down to the last bite. “If your dish gets cold, I can certainly heat it up for you!” Napalm Man’s luck was on a roll since the androids finished every bite of their dinner in minutes.
“Now, do you all want to taste failure again?!” Napalm demanded.
“Sir, no sir!” the Androids responded.
“I don’t fucking believe you!” Napalm Man replied, looking his troops over. “Until you all can prove to me that you’re the war machines the General built you to be, you’re going to be The Shit Piles! Y’all like that name?!”
“Sir, yes sir!”
“Here‘s something you won‘t like, if you disgrace my battalion one more goddamn time, you‘ll wish like hell that I‘ll just feed your worthless comrades! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!!”
Napalm Man was rewarded with another resounding, “Sir, yes sir!” It’d have to do. If this wouldn’t motivate them, nothing would.
“As you were, Shit Piles,” Napalm Man spat as he turned and walked out the door. He didn’t know what he was going to do with them. Sooner or later, they were going to give him a bad name. Again. He could feel it in his gut. He just hoped for their sake they weren’t going to fuck up too badly in Johannesburg. If they did, they’d never make it back Home. Napalm Man would see to it.
--------------------Once Napalmman had left, Waveman chuckled. "Kyahahaha.... That bot ain't right. I say we give him a nice dosage of Prozac! Maybe then he'll have a more sunshiney day!" he cackled, apparently finding humor in everything he said.
--------------------The sound of the door to the Maintenance Bay broke CrystalChan’s thoughts of strategies, and caused her to look over, despite the fact her eye was still being worked on. Even she, the Queen of Fortune, couldn’t have predicted what she saw. There was NapalmMan, armed with several paper dinner plates, and dragging around a deactivated Splitter Joe. From the looks of it, the Joe had been one of the ones present in Berlin. The entire sight was… unusual to say the least.
--------------------Time: Three Hours After Repairs