Orchestrated By C.M. Rich (Magnetman)
By Spark Mandrill
Just after Scenario J...
Captain Napalmman only saw himself as a soldier. Unlike that prancing, pompous white fruitcake, Napalmman never considered himself some tactical know-it-all that was full of it to the point of bursting. Napalmman knew from the moment he swore to fight for Elysium, his sole purpose in life was to kill in the name of a better world. He was a servant, a warrior, an instrument of God, himself. His God.
And much to the lowly servant’s horror, Elysium, his God was in peril. For reasons Napalmman couldn’t begin to make any fucking sense, the General allied himself with that Mindfucker, Mesmerman. Napalmman never trusted him…Hell, no one with a fucking brain in the SA trusted him. And surprise, surprise, the two-timing, scumsucking son of a bitch showed his true colors in Kuwait City and made patsies out of the whole SA. Scared shitless for his God, Napalmman ordered his Shit Piles to fall back and report to the General, fearing the worst.
Thankfully, Napalmman’s God was alive and well. In fact, Napalmman stood in front of his God in his office, giving his de-briefing of the whole nightmare that caught the SA with their pants down and cost them a perfectly destructive (but retarded) CO. The General listened intently to his creation recount the clusterfuck in Kuwait City as he casually leaned back in his comfy chair, behind his fancy-ass desk, sipping brandy. After Napalmman finished his de-briefing, silence filled the room, as the General contemplated everything that his subordinate reported. After minutes that felt like hours, the General set down his champagne glass and leaned forward to address his captain.
“So if I understand you correctly Captain, you abandoned your mission, lost one of our COs, and let some perfectly Cossack scum slip past you, just to tell me something that I already know?” Napalmman reeled back as if some asshole threw a bucket of ice water in his face.
“What…?? When…How could you know??” Napalmman asked in shock.
“His oversights during the attack on Skull Fortress…His absence during our siege on Cossack’s citadel…You know Mesmerman’s never that sloppy…by accident. Frankly, I’m disappointed you couldn’t connect the dots yourself.” Napalmman swallowed hard and started shifting uncomfortably. Honestly, he didn’t see anything suspicious about Mesmerman’s recent assholishness…well, more suspicious. The tittering motherfucker came and went as he fucking pleased. And he pissed everyone off, what was so fucking odd about Mesmerman pissing off the General? How the hell was he supposed to know that he was going to sell the SA out from all of that shit?
“…Why…Why didn’t you order us to stop him?” The General simply sighed in exasperation and rubbed his temple, as though Napalmman was missing some big picture.
“Please. Even if I wanted you to, (and believe me, I do) you have no way of stopping him. But he has plenty of ways of stopping us. Tell me that you’ve seen that by now,” Cutman sternly explained. Napalmman nodded, his mind flashing back to the thousands of Mesmerman that descended on Kuwait City like a bunch of fucking. tittering locusts. “We’d have nothing to show for a war within our own ranks…Other than wasted time and chances for our enemies to tighten our noose.” Cutman coldly explained. Napalmman simply looked on, aghast and dumbfounded. When the hell was the General going to let him in on this? He may be an instrument to the General’s will, but he liked to think that his leader wouldn’t keep something like this from his right-hand man! After all, the General trusted him…didn’t he?
“But, but we can’t let that sniveling little backstabber get away with this!!” Napalmman pleaded, taking step forward and pleadingly putting his arms together.
“I wouldn’t have taken him aboard if I didn’t have any way of keeping him in check.” the General retorted scornfully, as if he was fucking implying that Napalmman should know better. But what was the goddamn proof that the General wasn’t blowing some more smoke up his skirt?
“What does it involve?” Napalmman asked, hoping the General
“Not you,” the General answered curtly. “Mesmerman’s not your problem. The Impacters are. Why couldn’t you finish them off?!” Napalmman recoiled back again in shock in horror. He and the Shit Piles reported back to the General out of fear and concern for their General. But now he was somehow turning this act of unwavering loyalty into their cock-up! Didn’t he care that his subordinates were only trying to protect him?
“We were…uh…we had them by the balls. We fracked Astrochan and Swordman…But Mesmerman showed up by the dozens... And then we got worried he got to you…”
“’By the balls’, Captain? Even though you found a way to let them capture one of my flawless war machines?!”
“I…uh…lost control over him…” Napalmman squeaked. “But that’s all he’s ever done. It’s cost us one mission, and nearly gotten us all killed. I’ve repeatedly tried to get him to fall in line…but nothing’s worked. He’s always been the least reliable member on the team.” Napalmman fervently hoped that the General would see things his way. But the cold, expressionless look on his macabre face said otherwise.
“Unacceptable! You want me to believe were outwitted by an idiot?” Cutman asked impatiently. Napalmman backed away in silent horror as he watched the General start playfully flicking his shears. He could see where this shitstorm was going.
“That’s…not how I’d put it…Sir…” Napalmman weakly excused. “…I just didn’t have the same level of control over him you did…”
“I can plainly see that,” Cutman shot back, unimpressed.
“Wh-What I’m saying is…” Napalmman trailed off, scared of what the General’s response to the last half of his question would be. However, the General impatiently twirled his hand, waiting for him to finish the statement. “…What I’m saying is, if I could control them the way you do, we could keep the other Shit Piles in line.”
Cutman instantly stopped flicking his shears and rose from his seat, looking Napalmman dead in the eyes. He looked as though Napalmman just took a shit in his brandy. Not saying a word, the General grabbed one of his shears, and then the world went dark as gracefully slashed Napalmman across his eyes.
“Imbecile!! After your string of incompetence, your failure to lead, and your inability to see what’s going on around you, you ask me to reward you with more power?! And do you think I’d give you my power simply because you asked?!” Napalmman could only scream and howl and in pain as he stumbled around in the dark, covering his eyes. Suddenly, he felt razor-sharp blades digging and tearing through his metal hide all over his body. He suddenly lost feeling in both of his arms and felt something fall on both of his feet. He could hear the soft swishing of blades as he felt his patches of his skin effortlessly peeled off as he paid the price of his insubordination. As quickly as it began, the attack stopped. Napalmman kneeled on the ground, howling and wincing in unimaginable pain.
“There. Can’t be too rough on you. Don’t want to lose any more soldiers than I have to,” Cutman sneered. “I’ll be in maintenance in a half an hour, so you better be if you want to be repaired.” Napalmman meekly nodded in the direction of the General’s voice as he weakly rose to his feet. As he stumbled presumably towards the exit, Napalmman heard Cutman’s tenor voice ring out behind him.
“Oh and, Napalmman? You may lead the Ascendant Androids, but they are MY soldiers!! Never forget that!!” Mutilated, ashamed, and confused, Napalmman could only rasp a weak, ‘Yes sir’ as he stumbled towards what he hoped was the maintenance bay. With all the dignity he could muster, he tried to tune out Snow White’s jeering and laughing as he ran himself into a fucking wall. One after a-fucking-nother. After hitting his dozenth wall, he felt some dickhead chuckle tip him on his side. He could tell by the fucking laugh that it was Quint. Goddamn that sniveling little shrimp!
As he vainly struggled to pick himself up and Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dum got their yuks, Napalmman’s bewildered mind tried to figure out how and why a devoted soldier was remorselessly punished for nothing more than being perfectly loyal to his God.