Somewhere on the Eura-Sameba border, in a sleepy little military village, poshness is about to commence.
Brian Towels was your average sort of guy. Only two remarkable observations can be made about this young man, 23 years old. Firstly and least remarkably, he is a Corpsman in the Euran Army. Specifically, 6th General Infantry Corps, 5th Division, with Echo Company of the 2nd Greencoats Regiment - hence why he was sat in the pouring rain in a godforsaken makeshift tent, observing mapping data of this section of the Eura-Sameba border from the last week. The second observation that could be made of this individual was his personal relationships, illustrated by the three pictures borne at the front of his wallet. On the left, his girlfriend Lily, a sports journalist who recently spoke to Eura manager Kelly Sporadic himself. In the middle his parents; the mother a successful financier in Directus, his father a Brigadier with the Euran Marine Corps who had seen combat in that war of eighty five to ninety two, of the Huangdist Crisis, and of the New Hackneyan Kerfuffles. On the right was his brother, Jeremy Towels, who worked as a civil servant for the Ministry of the Overseas Territories. During the West Angolan Acceptance, he had found himself in the news after a bizarre incident involving two wealthy Itorian visitors.
The young corpsman had long got bored of the map reading he had been assigned to by his CO after he fucked up on the last exercise. It's not my job! he mused to himself. I'm just the medic; I fix your boo-boo, I lay down cover fire, that's it. He looked out of the window of the tent - rather, the see through plastic square of the tent - that gave him a view over the border from this elevated hillock. In the distance he could see the lights of Balleck, a southern Sameban town home to half a million people. The artillery guns emplaced with his company were constantly trained on targets within the town, expecting to pound crucial infrastructure to the pieces at any moment. That's what Brian needed, action!
"Corporal Towels!" He swung around to see the LT in charge of his forty man infantry platoon. "Where are the other corpsmen? Has Jones gone off to the woods back there again?"
"No Lieutenant, just me. Jones is in his bunk."
"Fucking great, its pouring down out here and I need a priority job done. Where is my best man? Probably slapping his cock senseless in his bunk. He needs to have a chat with the RSM if this continues. Now get up Towels and get that poncho on, its soggy as a teabag out here. We need you ASAP." Brian couldn't believe it; a high priority task! He grabbed his gear, helmet and put on his plastic camo poncho around his neck to cover his body, following the LT out into the rain. Brian was the one in the family without the glory, the fame, the high earning job - this was his chance. He could imagine it now - it was probably some black ops stuff, deep into foreign territory somewhere in Rushmore. He'd have to cut through thickets with a machete in a ghillie suit, silently capping bad guys, before rescuing the General's daughter and flying home in an MH-60. He wouldn't kiss her though, he would stoically stare out to sea like a real hero. Clubbed to Death would play in the background. He would be the secret weapon of the Euran nation...
...or this task would be incredibly menial, as he was about to discover. He had raised his hopes when two helicopters had thundered by overhead, but they were not heading for the nearby helipads. He was headed for the barracks though. Once inside and out of the rain, he took his poncho and helmet off, and was taken deeper inside the building by his LT. And there they were.
Lord Alfred Bubblescotch and his saucy young wife, the honourable Mrs Gould Bubblescotch, formerly Gould Diger before their marriage. The Itorians who had put his brother in a psychiatrists office for six months.
"Err, sir?"
"This fine young lady here was visiting the Brigadier, but seems to be suffering from cramps. I need you to check it out." Brian wanted more than anything to stay away from the couple sat on the other side of the one way mirror. "Sir, with respect, I would not touch her with a bargepole."
"Why the hell not?"
"Don't you know who they are? Don't you read the papers? Have you not heard of the new Intercourse on Ministerial Premises legislation?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about Corporal Towels, but you're on a thin line here and you know it. I've given you enough chances and if it wasn't for me you might have been discharged months ago. You owe me kid!"
Brian let out an exacerbated sigh as he began to accept this was going to happen. "Yes, Lieutenant."
"Good. Give me your clinical judgement when you're done and tell me if we need to call Regiment HQ."
Brian nervously set down his heavier gear, trying to appear presentable. He slowly walked in to the room to find the couple sat down talking quietly, with the football playing on the radio. Brian had been trying to listen to the Eastfield Lodge-Eura match in his tent, but hadn't been able to get a wireless signal on his laptop. In here the DAB radio provided cut through the bad weather with ease. He stood there in awkward silence for a moment before interrupting. "Ma'am, my name is Brian. I've been told to examine you."
"Oh there won't be any need for that I hope dearest, I just hope I could get to the bottom of the issue."
"Ok, that's fine. You sure you don't want a female doctor."
"No worries dearest, you're a soldier. I'm sure you've seen worse things!" Nervous laughs were abound. Very nervous.
"Ok, so can you describe the pain?"
"Well you see, it's these cramps just below the bosom, they're consistent and they don't seem to go away." Brian became concerned. "It could just be dysmenorrhoea, but I would've thought that would be lower down. Do you have any history of heart problems in your family?"
"No doctor, certainly not."
"I'm uh, heh, I'm not a doctor ma'am. I'm a paramedic technically." Brian couldn't quite put his finger on it, and it didn't help that the football was distracting him.
"You know dearest I....I think I may realise now what it is. Alfred, when did we last make fruity?"
Oh god, here we go. Brian wouldn't make the same mistake as his brother. He turned and went for the door - locked! WHY LIEUTENANT, WHY!
"Oh my little dumpling, it was some months ago now. Are you becoming unsweet?"
"I think so Alfred. I need you to make me feel like a woman to make this most terrible heartache go away!"
"What about the Corporal, madam?"
"Oh but he's pretty, rather like a young you actually. Let him watch."
Brian was thinking of one word over and over. NOPE.
On the treatment bed, the young woman found herself mounted by her husband as Brian slumped to the floor in shock.
"OH PUMPKIN!"
"I'm going to use your man fluid depository as a spondooling mecca, I dare say! GIVE WAY TO MY THRUSTS OF STEEL!"
"Oh Alfred, deeper, deeper!"
"CHARRRRRRRRRRGE!"
whywhywhywhyDOTHEYHAVETOwhy
"Alfred, tease my duds like a piper teases the rodents!"
"OR LIKE YOU'RE TEASING MY RODENT, HO HO!"
"Plough me like the most furrowed field!"
"NNGH!"
"Seed me like the most fruitful orchard!"
"GUUH"
"MAKE ME WETTER THAN THE BAY OF FALOURR!"
"NGNGNSJSJF!"
Ihate itaLL mybrothersawthis hell WHYCANTIESCAPE. Brian was now scribbling over the wall wild eyed with a permanent marker that had been thrown to the floor by Mr Bubblescotch's floundering love spheres underneath his magnificent spear.
"YES! YES! YES! PAINT MY FACE THE COLOUR OF YOUR DELICIOUS LOVE!"
"Chin up, darling, it's 'hard' to aim, haw haw!"
"NNNNNNNNNNgggggghuuuuuuuuh."
"Oh, Alfred!"
"How are you feeling now?"
"Much better, rosy even, my dearest twiddletwop!"
"Good, good. Now, I hear there is a Sameban cementary nearby. Shall we go piss on the graves of those dirty savages? Hopefully in a few years we'll be doing it on some Darmeni's or something, bloody state leeching criminals. Or is that too delicate for the sensitivities of the silly liberals running the country these days?"
"I hope not. Do you want to come with us Corporal? Corporal?"
Deep in the recesses of a top secret military facility in Eura, two men in suits with shades watched a recording of an interview with one Corporal Brian Towels, who had now been instituted for around two weeks.
"LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT THEY'RE TOO CLOSE! I CAN SMELL IT!"
"Smell what?" asks the interviewer.
"What do you think, COCKEND, HAHAHAHA! WHAT DO YOU THINK! HAHAHA!" The interview visibly grimaces, even in this grainy footage. "Brian, you're safe here. No-one can hurt you."
"SHE CAN! WHAT IF SHE COMES AFTER ME? OH GOD THE HORR-" The tape stopped.
"I think that's all we need to see."
"The file says he was subjected to witnessing a public display of obscene sexual interaction."
"Nonsense."
"But...the file..."
"Is a cover. As a superior officer, I'll tell you what really happened."
"W-what?"
"He was subjected to torture by a foreign power. I can't tell you who, but it shows we need to develop torture techniques to match other Rushmori nations."
"But sir, they would never do that, and nor would we! I'm sure the explanation given here must be the right one, after all-"
"Hippies, kid. Hippies like those bastards in Falconwhereeveryouare and other peacenik hellholes. Hippies. You wouldn't believe them if they said they could sell you legitimate festival tickets, would you?"
"...no."
"Then how can you believe this false flag information they are feeding us?"
"...my god!"
"Indeed. This isn't some agenda me or our wider intelligence apparatus has. There are definitely nations out there who are trying to get us with their baby eating antics."
"Baby eating? But sir, that's absurd!"
"Let me ask you something kid; those Darmen guys, well fed. But so few kids. How do you explain that?"
"They...eat..."
"The kids, son, the kids."
"...MY GOD."
"Exactly. We need to get to work right away. Now, Item 1 - the Analnihilator. Can you guess where the probe goes?"
"No sir?"
"TIME FOR YOU TO FIND OUT."