Awesomesquad! Assemble! 7! ish: Political Warfare

If you’ve never read any of my Awesomesquad! Assemble! posts before, this link should bring you up to speed. Also, congratulations on finding my blog. This will be the most entertaining thing you’ll ever read.

So, let’s get to it.


As a rule for my team, we work our hardest to stay under the radar of pop culture. This is for two specific, very important reasons: to keep ourselves mysterious and therefore terrifying to our enemies, and to keep ourselves from becoming as corrupted as the famous people we fight. It’s my personal saying that, “We do not fight those with fame for fame, but for the good of the people without it.”
Seeing as though we are a quasi-trained group of assassins who target famous people, we tend to get some attention. And by “Some attention,” I mean a shit ton. The worst instance of this was actually both the first time Awesomesquad! was on national Television, but it was also our first time in succeeding in not letting our enemies escape (I swear, the previous villians who had escaped had done so by fluke).
It was late in the year 2009. Obama had been in office for about 10 months, and already everyone was bitching about how he wasn’t doing anything. Especially the pundits and especially Nut’n Fancy.
“Obama and the rest of the damn Liberals are stalling so that their agenda will pass and they can destroy America!” Nut’n Fancy shouted as he walked into the briefing room.
The ever outspoken and liberal, Lady Caggiano stood up from her seat and shouted defensively at Nut’n Fancy, “Change takes time! You cannot expect The President to fix all the mistakes that had been made during The Dark Times in less than a year! Give the man a chance.”
This threw Nut’n Fancy into a frenzy. Lady Caggiano always called the years Bush Jr. was in office, “The Dark Times” just to piss off Nut’n Fancy. This time, just like every other time she said it, it worked and Nut’n Fancy screamed a slurry of cuss words and Conservative talking points. Lady Caggiano, as usual, countered with her own rhetoric. Everett, the rest of the team, and I silently walked out of the room as the two shouted over each other. As usual in these situations, Everett handed me a can of knockout gas. I pulled the pin, threw it into the briefing room-turned warzone, and closed the door behind me. Within seconds, a white fog filled the room. Through the windows you could see Nut’n fancy try to fumble at the door before smashing his face up against the window and passing out. The team outside the gassed room put on the gas masks that Everett had stashed (Do you see how damn common of an occurrence this is?), and we entered the room slowly. I found Lady Caggiano on the other side of the room, her face against the floor. I went to pick her up, but once I touched her, she jumped up, howled, and pounced on me, gouging her sharp fingernails into my throat.

Behind those boobs beats the heart of a killer.

“Holyshit! Get’r off, get’r off, get’r off!” I cried as Damien and Criss struggled to pull Lady Caggiano’s talons away from my face.
“We’re trying, but she’s stupid fucking strong!” Criss shouted over Lady Caggiano’s wild howls.
The two of them, plus Jessie James and Everett were finally able to pull her off of me, and Everett pressed his Taser into her chest. She convulsed for a few seconds and then went limp, indicating that she was finally knocked out.
“Why do we always forget Lady Caggiano’s reaction to the knockout gas always leaves her in an animalistic rage and with superhuman strength?” I asked as I climbed back to my feet and dust myself off, I could already feel the blood trickling out of the neck wounds Lady Caggiano had given me. I walked out of the foggy room and into the warm light of the hallway.
“Well, we usually only hold meetings like this for serious situations.” Criss grimaced as he dragged Nut’n Fancy’s heavy body by the arm into the hallway.
“Yeah. What was this important meeting all about anyway?” Everett asked, helping Criss stuff Nut’n Fancy into the broom closet. “Oh, and by the way, your neck is bleeding a lot, Minigan.”
I replied, “First of all, what the hell are you doing? Secondly I can feel my neck bleeding- I’ll get to it in a minute. And finally, I called this meeting because one of us-”
“Minigan,” a voice called from behind me. It was GMZ. He had a look of urgency behind his thick rimmed glasses which I was never sure if he was wearing ironically or not. At 19, GMZ is the youngest of the group- younger than me by two and a half years. Behind his glasses was an attractive face, or at least, attractive enough to be considered attractive while still being able to blend in with the crowd. He usually kept his looks in check by wearing nerdy T-shirts and (probably) those glasses. On this day he was sporting an Iron Man shirt. “Why is your neck bleeding?” he asked me, “And why are they shoving Lady Caggiano and Nut’n Fancy into the broom closet?
“Well, where would you like us to put them?” Damien asked crossly, “They do this all the bloody time, and they’re always blocking up the hall afterwards.”
“Hold on a sec.” I told GMZ. I then addressed the group, “That’s fine, put them in there. But what I wanted to talk about is that one of us has been-“
“Minigan, his is really important.”
“So is this.” I retorted, and before he could get another word out, I blurted, “One of us has working out on the gym equipment and not wiping their disgusting sweat off of it afterwards.”
“That wasn’t important at all!” GMZ shouted.
“Yeah!” the rest of the group in the hallway chimed in.
“Yes it is. This is very serious and demands immediate action.”

Seriously, this isn’t that fucking hard.

“Not so important that it warrants a meeting that could potentially with us having to use knockout gas on those two,” Damien retorted, pointing to the broom closet where Lady Caggiano and Nut’n Fancy were stored, “This could’ve been done in a phone call, or a passive aggressive email, but not by dragging us all in here.”
“It’s actually a good thing you all are here,” GMZ noted, “again, there is a situation that needs to be discussed. Minigan, please come with me to The Watchtower.”
“We’re not finished with this conversation, by the way!” I called back to Damien, Criss, Jesse, and Everett as I followed GMZ down the hall.
We turned the corner, climbed the set of stairs and walked across the suspended catwalk which led to The Watchtower. The Watchtower, being the command center for all the security cameras in the Awesomebase!, sat in the center of the spacious Great Room. Well, “sat” isn’t the right word. It’s concrete walls jutted out from the ceiling of the Great Room, creating the ceiling’s giant cube protrusion that the modernist chandelier hangs from. The only entrance to The Watchtower was through the door at the other end of the catwalk. The catwalk, by the way, was designed in such a way that if our enemies would ever break into The Awesomebase!, any member of Awesomesquad! could press a discreet stone at the bottom of the stairs and it would release the catwalk from The Watchtower, dropping that end to the floor and leaving The Watchtower untouched.
Sliding passed me on the catwalk, GMZ walked up to the door, and placed his right hand on a glowing blue square. After about a second or two, there was a light ‘ping’ and the glowing square turned green. Then, from above the blue square, a small circle opened up, and GMZ placed his right eye in front of it. A fan of red lasers shot out of the circle and scanned his eye. Once it was finished, a pleasant female voice said, “Retinal scan accepted,” and a keyboard shot out of the wall below the square. This went on for about ten minutes as GMZ typed in his passcode, answered a question about himself, spoke his code name for voice identification, answered a second question about himself aloud, gave a cheek swab for DNA identification, scanned his hand and eye again, and then gave a urine sample. Every single one of these security measures were GMZ’s idea, and they are such a pain in the ass that just about everyone other than Danica and GMZ, decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Usually if anyone else needs in there, they just knock.
GMZ finished the last task to get through the door (it was a full body scan of his own secret dance, which he was pretty embarrassed to do in front of me), the door dropped down with that futuristic swooshing noise, and we entered The Watchtower. If every member of Awesomesquad! had a room that was specifically designed for them, then by God, The Watchtower was designed for GMZ. The room had no fluorescent lighting, but was instead lit by hundreds of white and blue LED lights that dotted the ceiling. In the center of the room was a four foot wide piece of glass that was lit by more blue LED lights around the edges. This was the display touchscreen, or as GMZ likes to call it, The Minority Report Screen. If you don’t get that reference, go watch that movie after you’re done reading this.

Our’s is better because we don’t have to use those stupid gloves.

Three of the walls were bare sans the wires for the cameras and internet access. The fourth wall was made entirely out of screens, each watching a different section of the Awesomebase!. Currently, Damien, Everett, Criss and Jesse were in the kitchen, eating some of the cookies that Lady Caggiano had made earlier that day. On another screen, Nut’n Fancy dragged his still weakened body out of the broom closet he was stowed in. Lady Caggiano was still knocked out, apparently.
“We have acquired some information that a possible attack on the Nation’s Capital will happen tonight,” GMZ stated.
“What?!” I cried, pulling my attention away from wall of screens.
Standing up from behind her computer, Danica added, “GMZ hacked into a cell tower in Washington DC and recorded a conversation between two men that said that the world will be theirs after tonight.”
GMZ nodded, “Yeah, so I checked into the locations where the two signals were coming from. One was from a hotel, but the other was coming from an old warehouse just outside DC.”
He strode over to the Minority Report screen and brought up a three dimensional map of the outskirts of Washington. He then drew a square with his finger around one building, and the map zoomed in to show just that city block.
“This is the building,” he affirmed, “Danica looked up the address , and it has been out of use for the past several years. However it has been rented out since June. And every day since then, there has been trucks dropping off dozens of large crates.”
I asked, “Do we have any idea who these two people could be?”
“Unfortunately no,” Danica replied, “The cellphones they were using were those prepaid, disposable phones that you can pick up anywhere anymore. We’ve tried to track their signals, but they haven’t been turned on since we intercepted the call. We aren’t holding much hope that they will.”
Sensing my doubt in this mission, GMZ added, “But I’ve been expecting something like this to happen eventually, so I’ve had Everett develop something for you and I to share vital information while you’re in combat.” He strode over to his desk and grabbed a small rectangular box. When he made it back to me, he opened the box to reveal a set of black sunglasses.
As politely as I could, I said, “They look badass, but I don’t see how they’ll help us communicate or even let me see indoors.”
“Don’t judge them before you put them on,” he replied.
I obliged. Holyshit, I shouldn’t have judged those sunglasses. Despite the fact that they looked like sunglasses, they actually made it easier to see in the dim light of The Watchtower. Everything was more vibrant, and when I focused on a particular item, it zoomed in and gave me information on the object. When I looked at GMZ, a list of information about him popped up, including his real name, his age, and several important pieces of medical information like his blood type and allergy information.
“I stand corrected,” I mused.
“You haven’t seen everything it does,” GMZ replied. He clicked a button on his computer and the wall of screens changed from video feeds of the Awesomebase! to a video feed from the glasses. He then spoke into the microphone on his desk, “Minigan, do you hear me?”
I did, but it sounded like he said it directly into my ear. “Jesus Christ in a clown wig!” I exclaimed. My voice boomed through the room’s speakers.

“You’re going to need to not scream when you’re wearing those,” Danica added smartly.

“I can also load an image directly onto the glasses so that you can see what vital information during the mission, like blueprints or pressure points on the human body or whatever,” GMZ added, “This is really going to make things easier for us.”

Taking off the glasses and feeling pretty satisfied with them, I said, “These are pretty amazing, GMZ, but I don’t see how this is supposed to make me feel better about going into this mission with so little information. All you have is a phone conversation that you could’ve possibly misinterpreted.”

“No,” GMZ stated, “You just need to hear the recording of it.” He typed onto his keyboard for a few seconds, and after hitting the enter button, two male voices spoke through the speakers.”

“Are we still on for tonight?” asked the first voice.

“Yes.” The second replied, “Everything is set up and ready, so all we need to do is what we do best. Then the world will be ours.”

“But what about the rumors of that elite group of fighters that are supposed to stop people like us? the first one asked. I looked to GMZ and Danica. They both smirked and nodded.

“They’re rumors!” cried the second. “Both Donald Trump and Kim Kardashian are still making headlines. Neither of them has been stopped yet. The rumors of such a group are just that- rumors. And if the rumors are true and such a group does exist, then they have a very small window to stop us.”

Then both let out hearty, yet sinister laughs.

“Well then, I guess I will see you at 5:00.” The first one said once they finished laughing, which took an uncomfortably long time.

“Actually, get here an our early.” The second man requested, “That way we can make sure we are fully prepared for tonight.”

The first man agreed, and then they both hung up.

“You really should’ve just played me the recording first. That would’ve saved some time,” I pointed out.
“Yeah,” GMZ agreed, “But then you wouldn’t have gotten the glasses.

I agreed and then looked at my watch. 2:00PM. Shit. We just gassed Nut’n Fancy and tased Lady Caggiano. It usually takes them a half hour or so to recover from getting knocked out like that, and we’ve never gone up against a bad guy on the same day, let alone within a few hours. But if I don’t let them fight, the rest of us could possibly be outmatched, or they could find a way to come with us and fight anyway.

A knock on the door shook me from the conflict being waged in my head. Danica opened the door, and Phlegm and Derren walked in carrying drinks, snacks, and a headset each. Apparently, they were ready for Team Pugnastics to fight.

“You told Phlegm and Derren first?!”

“I ran into them before I found you!” GMZ replied, “Besides, we’re in a hurry here!”

I turned to Derren and Phlegm and asked, “And what are you doing with the food and drinks?”

“Do you expect us to watch the show without snacks?” Derren asked sarcastically.

Phlegm put down everything she was carrying and started jumping up and down, flapping her hands in front of her like a little girl who ate too much candy. She excitedly added, “Ooh, Minigan! I’m so excited to watch you guys fight! We never get to see it! Please make it extra violent for me!”

“Am I the only one who finds it disturbing that our Psychologist wants to see me really hurt someone?” I asked.

“No time to deal with that!” GMZ added putting the glasses back in my hand and pushing me towards the door, “You need to inform Team Pugnastics that you need to leave as soon as possible. We’ll brief them once you’re on your way.” “Until then, us four,” casting a glance over to Phlegm and Derren, “will continue to find out any information on who those men could be.” He pushed me the rest of the way out of the door, which closed behind me once I was on the catwalk. I could hear the faint cheers and hoots from the four still inside The Watchtower. They were really looking forward to the show.

I rushed to the lounge to find Damien, Criss, Everett, and Jesse, playing poker. Nut’n Fancy was lying on one of the couches, looking like he was fighting a particularly nasty hangover.

“OK Fellas,” I announced, “We need to get ready to leave. We’ve got some ass kickin’ to do.”

“What?” a tired sounding female voice asked from behind me. It was Lady Caggiano. She looked as if she had just woken up from a weeklong, but not necessarily pleasant, nap. “Where are we going? Is this why you called the meeting in the first place?”

“No,” I informed her, “We’ll be having the meeting after we get back. But right now, we need to get ready. We’re leaving as soon as the Awesomecopter! is ready.”

I nodded to Jesse, indicating to him that he was dismissed to get the Awesomecopter! prepared. He didn’t move. In fact, no one moved. They all just stared at me.

After a few seconds of tense silence, Damien finally spoke up. “Who are we fighting?” he asked.

“We don’t know.” I answered.

“Well, then what are they doing that is so evil?” he asked next.

“We don’t know that either.”

“So then why are we going to fight this person?” Damien then queried.

“GMZ intercepted a phone call.” I replied hurredly, “Look, You’ll be briefed by GMZ in the Awesomecopter! while we’re on our way. You’re just going to need to trust me and GMZ on this.” Damien stared at me. I wasn’t sure if it was out of anger or just plain shock. Feeling the uncomfortable silence weigh down on me, I added, “Look, I know this is unusual for us. I know that I always give you all the information before we even set out. And I know I have never asked for your trust before, but this time we need to be in Washington DC before 5:00PM. That is the time that the two men who are behind everything proceed with their plan. Please, let’s get ready.”
Damien actually seemed satisfied with this response. “OK. Let’s get ready.”
Lady Caggiano moaned, but didn’t argue, and she and the rest of Team Pugnastics headed down to the armory to suit up. Within the half hour, we were on the Awesomecopter!’s Helipad, which I really should have named “Awesomepad!” to keep the names consistent. Oh well. Everett took one look at me, and he clenched his jaw.
“Be careful with those, Minigan,” he told me, trying to keep himself calm, “Those are the only prototype of those I’ve made, and it took me forever to make them.”
“Then why did you give them to GMZ?” I asked.
“I didn’t.”
I frowned, “Well, do you want me to leave them here? GMZ can contact me with my wrist communicator.”
“No,” Everett conceded, “I had been meaning to field test them anyway. We might as well see how they do in a real conflict.”
Jesse informed us that the Awesomecopter! was ready, and we all climbed in and took our seats. The roof above the helipad opened up, expanding outward from the center. Once we were in the air and racing towards DC, GMZ’s face popped up on the TV screen. He explained the situation, let the group listen to the video, and stated that Team Prevention would let us know the identities of the men as soon as they figured it out.
We were well on our way by this point: almost through West Virginia. Lady Caggiano and Nut’n Fancy were feeling like their normal selves, which you could tell by the fact that they were back to normal because they were bickering. It all started with Nut’n Fancy’s comment about him missing a debate that he wanted to watch, I think he said it was between Rush Limbaugh and Bill Maher. Lady Caggiano snorted and rolled her eyes.
Nut’n Fancy heard and saw this and snapped at Lady Caggiano with a, “What?”
“Nothing, Nut Fancy” Lady Caggiano replied sourly.
Before they could start fighting again, I turned up the song we were listening to, and began to sing along, “Damn, I think Kim Kardashian’s a man/She stomped him just cause he asked to put his hands/ On her massive Gluteus maximus again…”
Nut’n Fancy thankfully bit his lip, and the rest of the trip transpired without incident. By the time the Awesomecopter landed, I still had heard no new news about who these two men could be. It was after 5:00 and already dark. Damn. We entered the building stealthily through the back. Slowly, we inched into the pitch black darkness of the old building. We were in a hallway, a rather wide hallway with several large wooden crates piled up to the ceiling in places. I was in the lead; the glasses were acting as night-vision goggles, making the entire hallway perfectly visible to me. I moved slowly, keeping in mind that the rest of my team was essentially blind.
“Minigan…” Everett whispered nervously.
“Don’t worry guys,” I whispered back, “I see the room perfectly. There’s nothing in here- JESUS CHRIST WITH BIEBER HAIR!!!”

My team mates jumped backwards. Those who weren’t cursing were asking me, “What? What is it?!”
“Nothing,” I said. I then out a laugh as my teammates punched me in the back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I laughed, “I just couldn’t help myself. There’s a door ahead. I assume that the people we’re after are in that door.”

“Minigan, I think we might have found something,” GMZ announced through the speaker in my glasses so that the rest of the group could hear, “We were able to look up what the building was used for by the last tenants. Apparently it was used as a meeting place for an ancient cult named “Herrscher der Zeitgeist.” Rumor has it that they tried to open a portal to another dimension. We’re still looking in on it, but the cult tried to summon a pair of monsters to take over the world. I think two of the members may be trying to summon the monsters again.

“C’mon team!” I called. “Let’s stop these cultists!”

We ran the rest of the way down the hallway, I kicked the heavy steel door open, and we all rushed inside. The room we entered was nothing like I had envisioned in my head. Dimly lit, by torches mostly, whose light could barely light the area where we walked, let alone up to the towering ceiling. The moist, old stone walls and metal pillars showing only slightly in the darkness. At the far end, a large stone altar.
That’s what I was expecting. What we found instead was two men, one fat, bald, and bulbous, the other grey haired and bird like, talking to one another in front of a large camera crew and a studio audience. The room was blinding with United States imagery and colors. Well, at least with the glasses on it was. The desk where the two men sat lit up with red and blue lights and the backdrop was a giant screen displaying images of a waving American flag.

“Wait a damn minute,” Nut’n Fancy said suddenly, pulling the rest of us out of our dazzled stupor, “This is the debate! Go Limbaugh! You take out that God hating bastard!” Nut’n Fancy ran to the line of cameras, eagerly awaiting Limbaugh to hurl a slew of insults at Maher.

“Uh… GMZ, What is this?” I asked into the glasses.

“I’m not sure,” he replied “ scan the crowd for anything suspicious, and have the rest of Team Pugnastics keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. We’ll listen to the debate for anything that might sound like they’re summoning an ancient evil. I had done a quick scan of everyone in the audience and on the crew, and had found nothing, so I went back to watching Limbaugh and Maher.
There was no ancient evil in this debate- only the modern day kind. It started off slowly, simple jabs here and there. But after a while, the debate devolved into just them insulting one another. And while their talking points became uglier, both men became more hideous and bulbous. I don’t mean that in a figurative way, either. They we’re actually becoming more and more hideous and bulbous the more they argued. Soon, even Nut’n Fancy had noticed and stopped cheering on Limbaugh, and instead opted to stare in horror.
“GMZ, are you getting this?” I asked into my glasses.
“Yes,” GMZ’s voice answered back, “we’re using their images to cross reference with a google search.”
“Good,” I replied to him. I turned to my team and the whispered, ” Let’s quietly turn the cameras off so that we can stop these two from doing… Whatever the hell that they’re doing, in relative anomin-”
“Bill Maher and Rush Limbaugh, ” Lady Caggiano yelled, both interrupting me and ignoring the whole, “quietly” part, “please refrain from destroying the world. We are Awesomesquad! and we will stop you, so you should just give up now.”
Both men laughed. “So you’re the group that’s supposedly fighting ‘evil celebrities,’” The bloated Rush Limbaugh taunted. His voice had grown deeper and rougher, but he still had his familiar fat person lisp. He pointed to me, still laughing, “What the hell are you supposed to be, Moon Knight if he was a total pussy?”

“Who the fuck is Moon Knight?” I asked while laughing at his expectance of me getting such an obscure reference.

Holy Hell, he even has a staff. This dude is totally a rip off of me!

He wasn’t at all happy about me not getting the joke, so Bill Maher joined in by pointing at Nut’n Fancy and saying with his high pitched and demon like, yet still drawn out and nasally voice, “And look at this White trash Rambo! I bet this idiot can’t even spell his own name, let alone the horribly retarded name of their little group of fighters!”

Before I could stop him, Nut’n Fancy was charging at the now eight foot tall Bill Maher, firing both of his pistols at the pundit-Monster’s head. Every Bullet hit its target, but only made Maher stumble backwards a little. Once Nut’n Fancy got close enough, Maher made his move. Maher jumped over the charging Nut’n Fancy, grabbed him by the shoulders with his newly formed talons, and whipped him across the room by doing a front flip. Nut’n Fancy smashed into the far wall, taking out the food table on his way down to the floor.
The crowed panicked. All at once, they shambled over the seats to the nearest exit, many of them clawing their way over one another. Terrified shrieks and screams filled the room. Many members of the camera crew were also trying to get away from the two hideous monsters in the room.
“NOBODY MOVE!” the Rush Limbaugh monster roared, “EVERYONE GET BACK INTO YOU FUCKING SEATS, AND CAMERA CREW GET BACK TO YOUR STATIONS. We are going to continue with this debate, and nobody is fucking leaving until these bastards are all dead and the debate is over!”
The audience and crew, not wanting the pundit’s wrath to fall upon them, obliged. I turned to the Awesomesquad! members who were closest to me and said, “Ok, so bullets don’t do much harm to these two. Use everything at your disposal as a weapon. It looks like we aren’t going to have time to wait for GMZ to find out what Rush and Bill are. If you find out what it is, yell it to everyone, got it?”
Damien, Lady Caggiano, and Everett nodded.
“Good. Let’s fuck these two like we’re shooting a porno for ugly people.”
Lady Caggiano had a look of repulsion on her face. “Gross.”
“It’s just a figure of speech” I replied quickly.
I whipped out my Justice Stick and charged at Rush Limbaugh. Limbaugh squatted down into the defensive stance, his arms opened wide to either grab or smash me. To avoid this, I dropped to the floor and slid between his legs. As I did, I jabbed my Justice Stick at his fat roll, thinking that that must be his most vulnerable point. It was not. The metal head of my polearm bounced right off of his fat roll, leaving Limbaugh unharmed. Luckily, Limbaugh was too slow , and I was able to slide out from under him before he was able to crush me with his legs. I spun around and kicked the back of his knees. I did a backwards somersault and was back up on my feet.
Limbaugh’s knees buckled and he fell forward, narrowly missing Lady Caggiano, who had jumped out of the way at the last second. She glared at me, as if I wanted her to get crushed, and then went to join Everett, Criss, and Damien in battling Maher. That left me to fight Limbaugh alone. Shit.
Limbaugh pushed himself off of the ground and back onto his fat hooves. He was easily twelve feet tall at this point and still growing. Thinking quickly, I pulled out my Taser and pressed it into Limbaugh’s chest. It didn’t work either. With one swipe of his giant, lumpy hands, he knocked both the Taser and my Justice Stick out of my hands and to the other end of the room. Before I could react, Limbaugh had clasped his hands around my shoulders and was lifting me into the air towards his drooling, cavernous mouth. Inside, there were rows upon rows of teeth. Some of them were sharp, but all looked powerful enough to crush bone. I heard distant screams in my ear- Team Prevention was apparently so worked up that they forgot the mic was on. I lifted my legs up and pressed my feet against Limbaugh’s face, one on his lower lip and one on his nose, just preventing the Hell out of me getting eaten. Limbaugh didn’t give up, though. His strength easily over powered mine, and he was still able to move me closer to his mouth.
But just as I thought that I was about to have my head bitten off by some pundit-monster, something small, round, and black flew into his mouth. Limbaugh snapped his jaws shut. He was about to swallow the object whole when it exploded. Letting go of me and stumbling backwards into one of the cameras, Limbaugh howled in pain. I turned around to see Nut’n Fancy, blood trickling down the side of his face.
“Fire bomb,” Nut’n Fancy said, knowing what I was about to ask, “Since bullets didn’t affect’em, I figured fire might.”
“Good thinking, Nut’n Fancy,” I replied while taking deep breaths of sweet, sweet air.
We turned to face the hideous monster Rush Limbaugh had become when we heard an ear piercing screech from behind the other end of the room. The Bill Maher Monster was having an easier time fighting us than the Rush Limbaugh monster. I couldn’t see where Criss had gone to, but Everett was knocked out in the rafters overhead, hanging from several wires like a marionette puppet and Lady Caggiano was lying on the floor in front of the giant American flag screen, trying to force herself back onto her feet. Damien looked to be the only one who hadn’t been harmed physically, but he was just standing there in a daze, even as Maher’s taloned hand came swooping towards his face. In a flash I was there, diving towards Damien, and knocking him off of his feet before Maher could cut him up. I could feel Maher’s razor sharp claws stir up the air as they narrowly missed mine and Damien’s bodies. Damien and I hit the solid floor hard. Still holding onto Damien, I rolled us away from Maher as Maher threw his clawed hands to the floor. Again, he had just missed us.
Maher dug his claws deep into the floor, ripped out large chunks of the concrete, and threw them at us, roaring all the while. I was able to dodge them, but my cloak got stuck under the larger piece. With Maher bearing down on Damien and I, I franticly tried to unfasten my cloak from my armor. I was too late. Maher raised his hands and sent them crashing down on us. Suddenly, a burst of fire shot up from beside me and hit Maher in the face. Maher stumbled backwards screeching, and a second blast of fire came from the ceiling.
“Thanks for saving me,” Damien said, slowly lifting himself off the ground.
“Don’t mention it,” I replied as I stood up and finished unclasping my cloak.
“I don’t know what happened,” he continued, “I was fighting him just fine, but once he roared at me, I forgot everything… even how to move.
“Really?! OK, so they can stupefy us with their roars,” I replied,
Everett had jumped down from the rafters and continue to spray fire at Bill Maher. Damien lit a fire with his wrist mounted flame throwers and joined Everett. Lady Caggiano had gotten back up and was fighting Rush Limbaugh with Nut’n Fancy. Criss was still nowhere to be seen.
“GMZ? Have you figured out how to defeat these two yet?”
“No, but we’re close. Apparently the monsters actually take the bodies of a member of the cult.”
GMZ replied, “but we still don’t know what they are or how to defeat them.”

“Ok. And where the Hell is Criss?”
“We’re not sure either. We saw Bill maher throw him at a wall, but he vanished right as he hit it.”

My Fight or Flight instinct was in hyperdrive too much for me to be too worried about Criss. I lit a fire with my wrist mounted flame throwers and then joined in fighting Bill Maher with Lady Caggiano and Nut’n Fancy. My flame throwers were doing their job quite quite well, but with one swipe with Bill Maher’s gnarly and grey talons, he managed to destroy them both. With the butane covering my hands and forearms, I was lucky that the igniter didn’t set me on fire. My luck, however, ran out just at that moment, because with another swipe of his monstrous paws, Maher sliced through my armored vest and into my flesh.
Now, I remember feeling my blood spill out from my chest, but I do not remember there being any pain. Maybe I was in shock, or maybe my adrenaline was running so high in my bloodstream that I simply blocked out the pain, or maybe it was the powerful uppercut that Bill Maher gave me with his scaly hand that made me forget about the pain in my chest. Wait. Yeah, it was that last one.
He punched me so hard that for a few long seconds, my feet were off the ground. Then I was on my back, the world above me a blur of color and light. To this day, that was the hardest punch I’ve ever taken, and to this day, I still don’t know where I got the will power to stand back up.

I stumbled forward, everything still a shifting blur. Man, I should’ve just stayed down.
“You should’ve just stayed down,” Bill Maher’s inhuman voice said somewhere ahead of me, conveniently vocalizing what I had just thought, “You’re just like a diabetic redneck at a candy bar convention: you’re both idiots and you both are about to eat shit and die.”
“NOOOO!!” Nut’n Fancy’s voice cried out from somewhere behind me. Something dark rushed in front of me. There was sounds of a struggle, and then the sound of something sharp stabbing into flesh.
And that’s when the focus my vision came back. In front of me, facing Bill Maher, stood Nut’n Fancy. Maher’s arm reached down to Nut’n Fancy’s midsection, and I could see Maher’s claws sticking out of Nut’n Fancy’s back.With a sinister grin across his savage beak, Maher pulled his claws out of Nut’n Fancy’s stomach. Then, with one solid kick/ punch from his bird like feet, Maher sent Nut’n Fancy flying across the room and back onto the Craft services table.
Damien, Everett, Lady Caggiano and I stopped fighting the two pundit monsters and ran to Nut’n Fancy’s aid.
From behind us, Maher and Limbaugh roared with laughter. When the camera men tried to pan over to us, Limbaugh shouted, “No! You keep the cameras directly on us! You will only show those people when we destroy them. The world will know not to try to take us on!” He then turned to Maher and asked, “Are you ready to end this, you Godless Liberal?”
“Only of you are, you socially backwards Conservative.”
“Nut’n Fancy, are you Ok?” Lady Caggiano asked as she knelt beside him, her knee in what looked like it used to be a fruit platter.
Nut’n Fancy coughed up blood. “What do ya think?”
“Guys,” Everett interrupted, “They’re coming.”
“N-no,” Lady Caggiano stammered, not listening to Everett, ” We’ll get you out of here and fix you up. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

“Guys?!” Everett cried.

“Everett, you, Damien and I will take care of them,” I said, “Lady Caggiano, give me your flame throwers.”

“No!” Damien exclaimed, ” You have butane on your hands! You’ll just kill yourself. We’ll handle it. Just make sure Nut’n Fancy stays alive.”
Nut’n Fancy coughed up more blood as the pool of blood beneath us grew wider, “I’m finished and I know it.” “Lady Caggiano,” he said reaching for her hands, “I know that we’ve never really gotten along, what with me being an upright citizen and you being a filthy Liberal and all-”
Lady Caggiano interrupted,”Look, I know you’re dying right now, but go fuck yourself.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” he said weakly, “We’ve had our differences, but I’ve always respected you. You’ve stood by me in battle, and I know just how brave person you are.”
“They’re getting stronger!” Damien yelled over the roars of the two pundits he and Everett were fighting, “Fire isn’t doing as much damage as what it did!”
“Well… Thanks Nut’n Fancy,” Lady Caggiano replied with tears in her eyes, “You’re the bravest and most heroic man I’ve ever known.”
“There’s one more thing,” Nut’n Fancy gasped, his skin growing paler by the second, “Kill these bastards for me.”
And with that, Nut’n Fancy closed his eyes, let go of his last breath, and was gone.
Four simultaneous “No’s” rang out from my glasses’ earpiece.
That moment after Nut’n Fancy’s passing hung in the air for a long time. I remembered watching his videos online and thinking, this guy is crazy. He needs to be on my team. I remembered Lady Caggiano and I meeting with him for the first time. I remembered how we had to promise him that we wouldn’t wage war on decent, hardworking Americans, “Like those Liberals are.” I remembered how many times I had to gas him because he and Lady Caggiano were arguing. I had gassed him earlier that day. Was this all my fault? He’d still be alive if I hadn’t brought him along today. And he had saved my life twice this fight. I couldn’t even save him once? How bad of a leader am I?
I looked up from Nut’n Fancy’s body to Lady Caggiano; her whole body was shaking. When she looked at me, tears were running down her face and in her eyes. But behind her tears, there was fire. It was an angry fire, a vengeful fire, a fire that thirsted for blood. These fuckers were going to die tonight.
In an unnervingly calm manner, Lady Caggiano asked, “Everett, may I please have a can of Knockout gas?”
Everett pulled a can of knockout gas off of his belt with his free hand and tossed it in Lady Caggiano’s direction. She pulled the pin and held it close to her face. Once the white smoke started pouring out, she inhaled it with deep breaths, and managed to breathe in most of the smoke. When she had her fill, she threw the can across the room and stood up. Her eyes had changed color from a light brown to violet, and her pupils had dilated. The veins in her arms, neck, and forehead bulged and pulsed with her heartbeat, making her look like a seasoned steroid user.
Bill Maher, finally so powerful that even fire stopped hurting him, stepped through Damien and Everett’s flame blasts. With one swipe of his giant grey hands, Maher knocked my two teammates across the room and out of his way. I stood my ground. Lady Caggiano maybe in rage mode, but she’s still going to need backup. I was not going to lose another teammate toda-
“Minigan!” GMZ shouted into my ear. It distracted me enough that Bill Maher was able to whip one of his giant hands at me and knock me into the front of the stands of terrified spectators.
“What?!” I yelled.
“Hey don’t you get testy with me,” he retorted, “I was just trying to tell you what these two guys are.”
He loaded an image of a terrifying beast, somewhat similar in appearance to the two were fighting onto my glasses, completely obscuring my vision.
“What the Shit, GMZ?! I’m fighting here! Take the photo down!”
There was a roar ahead of me. I lifted my glasses up just in time to see the huge desk come flying at me and the crowd. I curled into a ball and braced for impact. One second went by. Then two. After the third, I looked up to see Criss standing between the me and the desk, which was hovering several inches off of the floor.
“Criss!” I exclaimed before I remembered that he had been gone all this time, “Where the fuck were you?!”
“They threw me through a bunch of walls,” he answered, “I had to find my way back to this room in the dark.”
“Well,” I said, taking in mind that he did just save my life along with all the people being held captive’s lives, “Thank God you’re OK”
“Oh so you’re just going to ignore my important information then,” GMZ snapped.
“Sorry, GMZ,” I said pulling my glasses down, ‘What were you saying?”
GMZ hurridly said, “I figured it out when Limbaugh said that he wanted the cameras to be on him and Maher. They want the world to see them.” “Do you know what the word ‘Zeitgeist’ means?” he asked rhetorically.
“Isn’t it the name of a mediocre Smashing Pumpkins album?” I joked.

“Really? Jokes at a time like this?”
“Anyway,” GMZ continued, “’Zeitgeist’ means, ‘Spirit of the times.’ It means the mood of the period based on the ideas and beliefs of the time. Think about it, Minigan, what would the current Zeitgeist be?”
“I’m not sure I’m following you,” I admitted while I looked at the picture on the glasses, which was actually the only thing I could look at. They did look similar, but not exactly alike. “Is it everyone’s desire for fame? Also, take the fucking picture down- I need to see what’s happening with my team!”
“YES! But not only that, it’s attention and how easily obtainable it is now! The internet has turned every single one of us into attention whores!”
The image vanished, and was replaced with the room again. Several of the captives were looking at me a little strange- although, I did just have a one sided conversation with a pair of sunglasses. In front of the cameras, Damien, Everett, Lady Caggiano, and Criss were fighting the now humongous Bill Maher and Rush Limbaugh. Maher had grown a spiked tail at some point and was trying to use it to get lady Caggiano off of him. Lady Caggiano had climbed up his back and was trying to strangle Maher with a length of thick chain. Criss had levitated Rush, who was now sporting tusks, into the air while Everett and Damien threw whatever they could get their hands on at him.
“Alright,” I said, as I jumped down from the stands and onto the stage floor, “But how does that help me defeat these two?”
“Don’t you get it, Minigan?” GMZ asked, “They’re trolls. How do you defeat a troll.”
I grabbed a length of fallen pipe, ran up to the hovering Limbaugh, and started beating him with it. “I don’t fucking know!” I yelled, “In Harry Potter, they knock him out with a club. In The Hobbit, Bilbo tricks them into staying out until the sun rises. In the fairytail, they answer his riddles fucking three. None of these stories are consistant! Stop asking me questions that you already know the answer to! I’m in the middle of a goddamn battle, I don’t need your mind games!”
“Internet Trolls!” GMZ screamed, “They’re Internet Trolls. They get their power by pissing people off. So one last question, douchebag, how do you deal with someone trolling on the internet?”
“You don’t feed them… Jesus Christ with face tattoos! We have to ignore these guys!”

I took the jagged edge of the pipe and jabbed it into Limbaugh’s side, “Wait a second, how the fuck do we ignore these guys? They’re sixteen feet tall monsters. They won’t let us just turn around and stick our fingers in our ears.”

“You’ll just need to find a way to get everyone to pay attention to you instead,” GMZ replied.”
Phlegm chimed in with, “You guys are doing great, Minigan! Everyone on Facebook and Twitter think so too.”

“Why are you guys on Twitter at a time like this?!” I yelled.
Not waiting or expecting a reply, I dropped the pipe and backed away. I was only making Maher and Limbaugh more powerful by doing that. I looked around the studio, just trying to find something, anything that would cause enough of a distraction so that the cameras, the live audience, and everyone watching it on TV and online would stop thinking about Limbaugh and Maher. What is more appealing to humanity than violence? I asked myself, what would they rather watch? I looked around the room, just hoping for some kind of clue or sign or something to help me figure it out. There was not a goddamn thing to give me that clue. Fuck… Wait,Fuck! Sex! Sex is way more distracting than violence! I just need to get the entire world thinking about sex instead of these assholes. I looked around. Lady Caggiano was the closest woman around, and she was way too busy trying to strangle Maher to want to strip or have sex on camera. I decided I was going to have to do this on my own.
I yelled to my teammates, “Keep them away from the cameras! I know how to stop them.”
I then took of my shredded armored vest and undershirt. And then I dropped my pants. Never in my life have I been happier that I had shaved my pubes earlier in the day than that day. The crowd gasped, and then went silent. Every single cameraman’s mouth dropped. Then, they slowly turned their cameras towards me. When my teammates and the men they were fighting saw me, they instantly stopped fighting. Criss even dropped Limbaugh. Already, Limbaugh and Maher were looking smaller and more human. I needed to keep it up.
“No no no no!” Bill Maher yelled as freed himself from Lady Caggiano’s grasp and ran towards me, “Sarah Palin is a stupid twat!”
Lady Caggiano was able to tackle him before he made it into the sight of the camera. I started doing pelvic thrusts in order to keep everyone’s attention focused on me. This was actually really exciting. All the attention being focused on me, it made me feel powerful, like I was in control. Although I would never admit it to anyone else on Awesomesquad!, I did kind of enjoy it.
“Uh, Minigan,” Danica’s voice said in my ear, “Was that the only way you could think to get everyone’s attention?”
“Well, did you have a better idea?”
There was no reply.
“That’s what I thought.”
Several feet away, Lady Caggiano had pinned down the almost completely human Bill Maher. As she put her knife to his throat, I heard him say, “But where will you get you Liberal Social Commentary?”
“Stewart and Colbert do a much better job, and they’re much less douchey than you,” she replied hotly.
“And what about shock laughs, huh? Who will you get those from?”
Lady Caggiano smiled an evil smile and spat, “If I want to hear some jokes that are only funny once, I’ll just watch a Sasha Baron Cohen movie.”
Knowing his end was near, Maher screamed, “At least half of the Commandments are stupid!”
Lady Caggiano then slit his throat. Bill Maher eyes and mouth opened wide and emitted a bright, pulsing, white light. When the light went out, Bill Maher’s body withered and blackened into a black skeleton.
“Michael J Fox, is clearly exaggerating, if not faking his condition,” Rush Limbaugh yelled as he too broke free of my teammates and strode towards me. While walking passed Lady Caggiano, he punched her hard in the face, knocking her to the ground. He then yelled at me, “You think you’ve won? You think that just by flopping your little dick around, you could steal all my attention away? Well, excuse me, but I’m not like that Pansy Birdman Bill Maher, and I won’t be taken down so easily.” He then turned to the crowd and cameras and yelled, “Women who use birth control are sluts and whores! I’ve been wanting to say that for a long time, I’ve just never had the chance.”
Limbaugh pushed me out of the way so that he was in full view of the cameras. Thinking quickly, I stepped to the side so that I was fully visible in the background. I then began to gyrate my hips, making my flaccid penis swing in circles.
Limbaugh had no idea I was doing this when he screamed, “Feminism was established so as to allow unattractive women access to the mainstream of society!”
I gyrated harder, but Limbaugh still managed to get enough attention away from me that he was able to get some of his power back. Without wasting any time, he turned around and roared right in my face. I felt like I was dropped into a thick paste. I wasn’t in pain, but I still was unable to move, but I could still think and move my eyes. But still, I was unable to move, so I was only able to watch him swing his fist at my face. I heard a crunch, and suddenly the world fell from sight and was replaced with a blander, less colorful world. I watched Everett’s high tech glasses fall to the floor in several irreparable pieces. A quick glance to Everett showed me his distraught face and that he had seen what had happened to his prototype. Limbaugh turned back to the cameras began a rant about the unattractiveness of President Carter’s daughter. Once he was sure that Limbaugh wouldn’t see, Criss kicked over my Justice Stick. With the tips of my toes, I flipped it into the air and caught it when it reached eye level. Without a moment’s hesitation I did a jumping somersault over Rush’s head and landed facing him. Then, with a quick spin of the pole arm, I slashed at Limbaugh’s face. Defensively, he stumbled backwards until he reached the American Flag screen wall. I thrusted my Justice Stick into his chest. He stopped fighting me at that second, and looked at me with total shock on his face.
Under my breath, I muttered to him, “Go back to Hell, you woman hating, Liberal bashing, bible thumping, pill popping son of a cunt.” I then forced my Justice stick the rest of the way through his chest. It cracked the screen, and suddenly the room lit up with long white electric arcs. Just like with Maher, Limbaugh’s mouth and eyes opened wide and emitted a white light of their own. Once the screen had stopped flickering and Limbaugh was reduced to a black skeleton, I pulled up my pants, put my tattered vest back on, and put on my cloak, which was still under the piece of concrete.
I then turned to the crowd and stated to them, “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you roast a pig.”
For a few seconds, there was silence. Everyone in the crowd stared at me in shock. Then, someone began to clap. Then another. Then another. Then the whole crowd and camera crew were clapping. My chest swelled with satisfaction as the crowd applauded me as I stood there. Not sure of what else to do, I beckoned Criss, Damien, Everett, and Lady Caggiano in front of the cameras, and together we bowed.

The victory ride home didn’t feel anything like our past victory rides. Normally the trips back to the Awesomebase! were filled with music, singing and alcohol. This time, however was silent and still. We all sat in our seats and didn’t do much as speak to one another. In the center of us all was Nut’n Fancy’s body, wrapped in the only shroud we could get on such short notice: the Craft Food services table cloth that Nut’n Fancy died on. You could still see some grapes and a pretzel or two wrapped with him. Across from me sat Everett, who refused to look at me or my hands, which were cradling his mangled glasses.
That trip back to the base felt like both the longest and shortest trip to the base ever. With the weight of the mood bearing down on all of our chests combined with us sitting silently with only our thoughts and memories of our fallen team member made the trip feel like we were in the Awesomecopter! for days. However once we landed on the helipad, the grim reality of what had to be done next made me realize how unprepared I was to preform the last rights For Nut’n Fancy.
The members of Team Prevention were waiting for us at the Helipad. Each of them was wearing black dress clothes and it looked like they all had showered recently as well.
“It’s a wonderful and loving sentiment, guys,” I said to them, ” but it was also unnecessary- we still have to dig his grave.”
We all grabbed a shovel and made our way to the yard. We all began digging: Team Prevention didn’t change out of their dress clothes, and Team Pugnastics didn’t bother to change out of our battle gear or even dress our wounds. We just dug.
After a while of silence, I was beginning to think that digging the grave was going to be just like the Awesomecopter! ride home, but then Phlegm started telling the story of how Nut’n Fancy taught her how to shoot. We began to laugh at her jokes, and by the time she had finished her story, the mood had lightened dramatically. Soon, everyone was sharing their favorite Nut’n Fancy story: how he would fire arrows at Criss and Criss would try to catch them, the time when he and Lady Caggiano were arguing to the point that they were close enough to kiss, and how Lady Caggiano was afraid he might try, when he, Damien, and Everett built the obstacle course in the yard, and how one might he got drunk and got stuck in the one of the tires. We all had a good laugh at that one.
After a while, Lady Caggiano, Phlegm, and Dancia were getting tired, so they went inside to clean and dress Nut’n Fancy’s body. I reminded them to check the death letter in his file first, to make sure we buried him as he wished. They went off to do so, and about an hour later, about one in the morning, the rest of us had finished digging the grave. We headed to the infirmary, still covered in dirt and blood, to carry the casket up. When we walked in, the girls were waiting for us, looking as solemn as ever, and the casket sat open.
“Why is there so many guns in his casket?” Damien asked.
I looked into the casket. There had to be at least fifteen guns in there with him. He had a pistol in each hand, and an AK 47 and a M15 on either side of him, lining the coffin. Then several different kinds of pistols and revolvers were strategically placed around the coffin.
“It was in his death letter,” Phlegm replied.
“Did he ask for the whole damn armory?”
“No,” Danica answered, “just the ones he owned. Thank God he kept all of his separate.”
“Does he think he can take his guns with him?” I asked sarcastically, “Why would he need them in Heaven? Is he going to try and keep the Muslims out?”
“Oh, Minigan, there was one more thing,” Lady Caggiano said uncomfortably, “that Nut’n Fancy had in his Death Letter. He wants you to stop using your ‘Jesus Christ wearing something funny’ line.”
“Really?” I sighed, “Well, there goes that catchphrase.”
We carried the casket up to the yard and lowered it onto the lowering platform. We stood around the casket for about a minute and prayed for Nut’n Fancy in our own way. Finally, I said, “Today we lost not only a hero, but a member of our family. We had our differences with him, sure, but he was there for us when we needed him. He fought for us. He sacrificed so much for us. And today, he sacrificed his life for us…for me. He had saved my life twice during that battle, and that second time cost him his. I will never be able to repay my debt to him. So, here’s to you, Nut’n Fancy, We will never forget you.”
I pressed the button that lowered the casket into the ground. As it lowered, Several rockets shot up into the air from the tree line. They exploded overhead in a vivid display of reds whites and blues. When the casket reached the bottom, dozens more fireworks were set off, lighting up the sky as if it were day. When the fireworks were done, and the night returned, we grabbed our shovels and buried the casket.
As we stepped away from the burial plot, walked up to Everett.
“You destroyed the glasses.” Everett stated, his face stony and close to tears.
“I swear I didn’t mean to,” I pleaded, “Limbaugh stupefied me before he punched me. I couldn’t move. I’m so sorry.”
“I worked so hard on those.”
“I know. And I am really, deeply sorry. Can you make a new pair?” I asked.
Everett continued without answering me, “I was going to sell them to Apple. They were going to revolutionize the way we communicate and access the Internet. I was going to have them name it iGlasses.”
“You’re a dick, Minigan,” GMZ’s voice jokingly spat from behind me.
I turned around to face the hacking bastard, “You’re the one who took them from Everett’s lab without asking. And you did it just so that you guys could watch the fight.”
I turned back to offer Everett my help in building a new prototype of the iGlasses, but he was already walking away from the rest of us with his head down and his shoulders slumped forward and entered the base.
We all got cleaned up in our separate rooms, and then made our way to the infirmary to stitch each other up. Everett still didn’t want anything to do with me, so Lady Caggiano and I paired up to stitch each other up.
“So, Everett’s pissed at you.”
“He’ll get over it,” she reassured me, “It wasn’t your fault and he knows it. Trust me, he will come around. He always does. Holy Hell, Minigan, your chest is going to need so many stitches.”
I looked down at my chest. Maher’s talons left three diagonal gashes across my entire chest. Luckily, with all the sweating and dirt that has been on them since I got them, the gashes were clean and showed no signs of infection. It took several more hours for us all to get stitched and bandaged up, and by the time Lady Caggiano had finished my last stitch, it was 5:00 AM. We were the last two in the infirmary, so we cleaned up our mess, turned off the lights and went our separate ways. I made a quick stop at the helipad to pick up Everett’s iGlasses and then went to his room. I knocked on the door, and his voice on the other side beckoned me in. He was sitting up in his bed, staring at me with surprise.
Before he could say anything, I walked over to his nightstand and placed the iGlasses on the top. I said, “They worked really well, but you need to add in an override system for the remote image loading, or at least make it so that the images are transparent enough that you can look through them if you need to. GMZ practically left me blind after I got knocked into the stands, and I had to wait for him to take the picture down. Oh, and this may be because I wasn’t told much about how to work them, but I didn’t know how to access the internet on them.”
I walked back to the door and before I closed it behind me, I said, “You really should get some sleep.”
Once the door was closed behind me, I stood in the dark hallway for a second. I stared at the door to Nut’n Fancy’s room, the room that he would no longer need, and then went off to my own for some much needed sleep.


  1. […] Awesomesquad! Assemble! 7! ish: Political Warfare […]

  2. […] into going along with him. That’s why I’ve been attacked by guidos, zombies, pop singers, and pundits within three years! He forces us to do these things, and we cannot stop him. [The rest of the group […]

  3. […] “Minigan,” Damien warned urgently, “Whatever you do, do not whip your dick out this time.” […]

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