Blasted to Bits: It's Raining Men! [IC]

[Monfrox]

"Who the heck are these guys?" Allison asked. "He's a nut." Arike replied. "A what?" "A nut!" The squad looked around. "Things are going to get reeeaall interesting in the next few days." Eva said. "Where are the other squads? What's taking everyone so damn long?" Griselda asked, looking off to the rolling battlefield they were about to head into.

[The Strategic Air Command]

D’Amato tapped his fingers along the edge of his hatch waiting for the other squads to muster out, Welcome to the army, he thought, Now hurry up and wait. After waiting several more seconds, D’Amato keyed the intercom, “Hey Bob, did you report to the CO that we are ready to move out?”

“Yah, and I also sent a second message that we are ready to roll out any time” Pigg reported.

“Are you sure the radio is working Robert?” Dukakis asked, ever so smugly, “If I correctly recall, you once sold the circuit boards in order to procure several crates of liquor, rather foul liquor I might add.”

“Yah… well, that liquor was the best degreaser we ever had, AND I was able to buy a replacement set of circuit boards using the money I earned from selling the “alcohol-based degreaser” to an engineering battalion.”

“It was shame to get rid of booze,” O’Shenko said with a sigh, “Best drink I had since I been leaving home of Dublin. But this waiting is to be reminding me of time growing up on streets of Belfast with brother Paddy. We were to be hiding in alley when…”

Stewart was more than happy to listen to O’Shenko’s wacky stories of his youth in Ireland, and after letting him finish, called up to D’Amato, “Hey Cap, would it be alright to put on some music while we wait for the rest of the squads?”

“That should be alright, as long as Bob didn’t sell the tape deck” D’Amato said, imagining the insulting gesture that Pigg was probably now giving him from inside the tank. Stewart took off his helmet and looked through a small box of tapes that he managed to find in various wrecks and abandoned buildings. After settling on ‘The Best of Don Ho’, he stood up to hand the tape to Pigg…

*WHACK*

Too quickly, unfortunately. “Goddamn it!” Stewart said rubbing the large lump on the top of his head.

“You alright Eddie?” D’Amato called down, “I could hear that from up here. You get any dain bramage from that hit?”

“Yah…I’m fine. No problems boss” Stewart said handing the tape to Pigg and slumping back down into his seat, now feeling the world begin to swirl around him as he listened to the music.

Tiny bubbles, in the wine/make me happy, make me feel fine…, Don sang through the intercom.

That’s odd, Stewart thought, I never noticed the music was that green before. Or that my thoughts were that slanted.

[Pragia]

Thomas Steele and company joined the platoon, strutting into camp with his legendary Shishkebab in hand. When he saw fightmaster again, he smiled wickedly. After Their time in the city, Thomas got promoted to a squad leader, and managed to recruit his buddies from the PMC he was in to join him. They had a rather odd group, to say the least.

Darrel was walking down, carrying the 40mm grenade launcher "Behemoth" with a certain swagger. He was the group hotshot of the group, one who could run around and blow up enemies and look good doing it. On the opposite, Walter Smith toted his LMG silently, reading All quiet on the western front as they walked in.

Randy had revved up the chainsword he had on him, bloodlust deep in his eyes. Quinton, standing 7 foot even, carrying along a thunder hammer with him muttered "Doest thou know this fellow lord Steel?"

"Ya Quint, I know him all too well"

[The Empire of Pretantia]

Thomas Steele and company joined the platoon, strutting into camp with his legendary Shishkebab in hand. When he saw fightmaster again, he smiled wickedly. After Their time in the city, Thomas got promoted to a squad leader, and managed to recruit his buddies from the PMC he was in to join him. They had a rather odd group, to say the least.

Darrel was walking down, carrying the 40mm grenade launcher "Behemoth" with a certain swagger. He was the group hotshot of the group, one who could run around and blow up enemies and look good doing it. On the opposite, Walter Smith toted his LMG silently, reading All quiet on the western front as they walked in.

Randy had revved up the chainsword he had on him, bloodlust deep in his eyes. Quinton, standing 7 foot even, carrying along a thunder hammer with him muttered "Doest thou know this fellow lord Steel?"

"Ya Quint, I know him all too well"

That voice. That beautiful voice! Tom! It was that bastard! Oh, how Fightmaster missed him, dreaming of when he would finally make the crazy son of a bitch swing for insubordination.

"Tom you sumbitch!" He shouted in ecstasy, but as he spoke a red blur whipped past him, flying to Tom at high speed.

"UUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNCCCCCCCCLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!"Jack Fightmaster posed for a flying kick to Tom's face,"TOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

[Monfrox]

"Well, this just got interesting." Allison said, watching the recent events play out. "You think they know each other?" Eva asked. "Well he wouldn't have called him that if he did, would he?" Allison replied. Eva scoffed. "You never know." "Right." Eva looked over at the other squad. Mainly, the one who had their newbie sent over while they berated him. "Seems like a nice enough kid." "Don't get all lovey dovey. This is war, and war does things. As far as I'm concerned, everyone in the entire army is going to try to get in our pants at least once. Whether through playing innocent, or just asking straight forward, it'll happen. All men have one main thing on their minds at any given time, along with the rest of their thoughts, and that's us." "You're over exaggerating, Widow." "Maybe I am and maybe I'm not. Just you wait and see, missy."

[Pragia]

Thomas Steele and company joined the platoon, strutting into camp with his legendary Shishkebab in hand. When he saw fightmaster again, he smiled wickedly. After Their time in the city, Thomas got promoted to a squad leader, and managed to recruit his buddies from the PMC he was in to join him. They had a rather odd group, to say the least.

Darrel was walking down, carrying the 40mm grenade launcher "Behemoth" with a certain swagger. He was the group hotshot of the group, one who could run around and blow up enemies and look good doing it. On the opposite, Walter Smith toted his LMG silently, reading All quiet on the western front as they walked in.

Randy had revved up the chainsword he had on him, bloodlust deep in his eyes. Quinton, standing 7 foot even, carrying along a thunder hammer with him muttered "Doest thou know this fellow lord Steel?"

"Ya Quint, I know him all too well"

That voice. That beautiful voice! Tom! It was that bastard! Oh, how Fightmaster missed him, dreaming of when he would finally make the crazy son of a bitch swing for insubordination.

"Tom you sumbitch!" He shouted in ecstasy, but as he spoke a red blur whipped past him, flying to Tom at high speed.

"UUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNCCCCCCCCLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!"Jack Fightmaster posed for a flying kick to Tom's face,"TOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Quinton caught Jack mid flight, boot first. The Titan of the man barely stuttered his stance and said "I don't Reccomend that you be jumping people so quickly, seems as though ye be a bit too enegetic" Steele chuckled, saying "No worries, nobody here is hostile. So" he said, turning to Max "Damn funny coincidence you be here, I've been recontracted, and I brought along my buddies this time.

[The Empire of Pretantia]

That voice. That beautiful voice! Tom! It was that bastard! Oh, how Fightmaster missed him, dreaming of when he would finally make the crazy son of a bitch swing for insubordination.

"Tom you sumbitch!" He shouted in ecstasy, but as he spoke a red blur whipped past him, flying to Tom at high speed.

"UUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNCCCCCCCCLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!"Jack Fightmaster posed for a flying kick to Tom's face,"TOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Quinton caught Jack mid flight, boot first. The Titan of the man barely stuttered his stance and said "I don't Reccomend that you be jumping people so quickly, seems as though ye be a bit too enegetic" Steele chuckled, saying "No worries, nobody here is hostile. So" he said, turning to Max "Damn funny coincidence you be here, I've been recontracted, and I brought along my buddies this time.

Jack just sat there for a moment, still suspended perfectly by his boot. He took the moment to inspect who was responsible for blocking a kick to the face of a man he's never met before yet insists on calling Tom "Uncle." Huge, thick armor, a goddamn hammer... Simple solution.

"FURI-KURI FUDA OCHI!" Jack called as he kicked the hulk in the face with his free foot, flying past him.

"HERE COMES THE MURDER-COPTER!!!!!!!" He howled like banshee, again rearing for a kick to Tom's face. However, as his right foot reared, the steel boot of Max Fightmaster landed between Jack's legs.

"Oooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww."

The pain in the front was excruciating, leaving Jack crying in a fetal position two paces away. Fightmaster stood on the wreathing body of his child, face completely straight behind his mask.

"Good to see you, Tom,"he greeted,"This is my son, Jack. He's a PhD. in several fields, such as the theology of murderism, the science of murderology, and the liberal art of overkill. Who's this big mutha?"

[Pragia]

Quinton caught Jack mid flight, boot first. The Titan of the man barely stuttered his stance and said "I don't Reccomend that you be jumping people so quickly, seems as though ye be a bit too enegetic" Steele chuckled, saying "No worries, nobody here is hostile. So" he said, turning to Max "Damn funny coincidence you be here, I've been recontracted, and I brought along my buddies this time.

Jack just sat there for a moment, still suspended perfectly by his boot. He took the moment to inspect who was responsible for blocking a kick to the face of a man he's never met before yet insists on calling Tom "Uncle." Huge, thick armor, a goddamn hammer... Simple solution.

"FURI-KURI FUDA OCHI!" Jack called as he kicked the hulk in the face with his free foot, flying past him.

"HERE COMES THE MURDER-COPTER!!!!!!!" He howled like banshee, again rearing for a kick to Tom's face. However, as his right foot reared, the steel boot of Max Fightmaster landed between Jack's legs.

"Oooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww."

The pain in the front was excruciating, leaving Jack crying in a fetal position two paces away. Fightmaster stood on the wreathing body of his child, face completely straight behind his mask.

"Good to see you, Tom,"he greeted,"This is my son, Jack. He's a PhD. in several fields, such as the theology of murderism, the science of murderology, and the liberal art of overkill. Who's this big mutha?"

"My name is Quinton Argent, Ares corporation, close combat specialist, the gentleman with a large mallet." Quint said, solidly and rather deeply. He really was a gentleman brusier, but his usually stoicness prevented him from seeming much more.

Thomas piped up "Heh, how'd you get around in the city? You do some purple babes in your time? Kinda odd to be such a maniacle genius." He said, followed by "Any quarters for the squad? Hoping to fry an airship soon enough."

[The Empire of Pretantia]

Jack just sat there for a moment, still suspended perfectly by his boot. He took the moment to inspect who was responsible for blocking a kick to the face of a man he's never met before yet insists on calling Tom "Uncle." Huge, thick armor, a goddamn hammer... Simple solution.

"FURI-KURI FUDA OCHI!" Jack called as he kicked the hulk in the face with his free foot, flying past him.

"HERE COMES THE MURDER-COPTER!!!!!!!" He howled like banshee, again rearing for a kick to Tom's face. However, as his right foot reared, the steel boot of Max Fightmaster landed between Jack's legs.

"Oooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww."

The pain in the front was excruciating, leaving Jack crying in a fetal position two paces away. Fightmaster stood on the wreathing body of his child, face completely straight behind his mask.

"Good to see you, Tom,"he greeted,"This is my son, Jack. He's a PhD. in several fields, such as the theology of murderism, the science of murderology, and the liberal art of overkill. Who's this big mutha?"

"My name is Quinton Argent, Ares corporation, close combat specialist, the gentleman with a large mallet." Quint said, solidly and rather deeply. He really was a gentleman brusier, but his usually stoicness prevented him from seeming much more.

Thomas piped up "Heh, how'd you get around in the city? You do some purple babes in your time? Kinda odd to be such a maniacle genius." He said, followed by "Any quarters for the squad? Hoping to fry an airship soon enough."

"Well Tom,"Commander stepped in,"You'll have to wait for the quarters, but we were just about to head out and pop some balloons anyway."

He climbed back in his tank and ensconced himself on a mighty folding chair on the turret.

"If you would kindly join us, Mister Steele?"

[Pragia]

"My name is Quinton Argent, Ares corporation, close combat specialist, the gentleman with a large mallet." Quint said, solidly and rather deeply. He really was a gentleman brusier, but his usually stoicness prevented him from seeming much more.

Thomas piped up "Heh, how'd you get around in the city? You do some purple babes in your time? Kinda odd to be such a maniacle genius." He said, followed by "Any quarters for the squad? Hoping to fry an airship soon enough."

"Well Tom,"Commander stepped in,"You'll have to wait for the quarters, but we were just about to head out and pop some balloons anyway."

He climbed back in his tank and ensconced himself on a mighty folding chair on the turret.

"If you would kindly join us, Mister Steele?"

"When'd y'all get heavy armor out here? Thought red command said they lost most of their tanks?" Thomas remarked, jumping on top of the tread cover. He heard they were gonna deal with some purples soon and said "So, You gonna tie mastodon to a tank shell and shoot us at a blimp?" He secretly had loved that moment, felt invincible.

[The Empire of Pretantia]

"Well Tom,"Commander stepped in,"You'll have to wait for the quarters, but we were just about to head out and pop some balloons anyway."

He climbed back in his tank and ensconced himself on a mighty folding chair on the turret.

"If you would kindly join us, Mister Steele?"

"When'd y'all get heavy armor out here? Thought red command said they lost most of their tanks?" Thomas remarked, jumping on top of the tread cover. He heard they were gonna deal with some purples soon and said "So, You gonna tie mastodon to a tank shell and shoot us at a blimp?" He secretly had loved that moment, felt invincible.

"That was the city, Thomas,"Commander pointed out,"This is the fields, with new command and unit and squeaky-clean tanks."

Commander leaned back in his chair and grinned,"Now you've given a practical reason to invest in the bioresurrection of species. Until then you and Max have to make due with tying each oth-"

"CAN IT YOU ASSHOLE!"Fightmaster threw Jack's boot at his superior with anger,"I'm sorry; can it you asshole, SIR!"

The boot landed square in Commander's face, but the combination of a mask and gentlemanly calmness saved Commander from showing any form of pain or injury.

"Now Max,"He said as the boot slid off his face,"It would only be fair if you-"

"WHAT'S THIS ABOUT A MORTAR AND FLYING?!"Having recovered from his painful ordeal in the main battery,"LET ME GUESS: PA HERE WAS SENT-"

A incapacitating backhand from Fightmaster interrupted Jack mid-sentence, his mask and a tooth flying off from the force of the blow.

"Now then,"Fightmaster said as he grabbed his child by the collar,"We were discussing YOU PEOPLE GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF HERE TO KILL SHIT!"

"Of course, Max,"Commander agreed,"I am simply waiting for the slowpokes to get here."

[Monfrox]

"I'm getting boooorrrrreeddd....." Juliet sighed as she laid back on the ground. "When do I get to kill people?!" "Soon enough, now sit up. You're making the rest of us look bad." Arike replied. Juliet rolled over and went into a hand-stand before letting her legs come down in front and then bending forward until she was standing straight. The squad was obviously getting a bit anxious.

[The Empire of Pretantia]

A minute passed. Another minute passed. Another minute passed. Another minute... Passed. Where the hell are the other guys?! Fightmaster was fed up with this waiting, and Jack had recovered from the high-velocity backhand his father gave him.

"Commander,"Fightmaster said pissedly,"These Summer-day dickheads are never gonna get here. How about my squad hunts them down and you lot go... Commander?"

The Dixie Pounder had vanished without a trace, not even leaving track marks. In fact, the entire outfit sans Squad Fightmaster was gone. All that was left in the silent wake was a small note where Commander's tank was before, reading:

Dear Lieutenant Fightmaster,

I got bored, so I took what's been here out to the field. I'll be taking your advice, so you should do the same.

Signed,
Commander

---

"All units, airships, that way o'clock!"Katyusha shouted over the radio, reciting Commander. On the flat fields it was easy to see the incoming vessels, five transports and three cruisers. The transports were lightly armed, with only a few machine guns to defend the fifty men and five tankettes they each carry. The cruiser on the other hand have very big guns: three 120-mm cannons on each side of the gondola, and an ass full of bombs in the rear. Needless to say, hell awaits with a lever 82 long thick no-lube gang bang.

"Break formation! Evasive maneuvers!"Commander relayed to Katyusha, gazing at a particular cruiser with the lion's crest. That one was the flagship, playing "Hail Britannia" over the speakers and hovering at the tip of the formation. Commander had a bad feeling about this particular ship...

---

How audacious of them, Captain Tentunson thought as he enjoyed his tea on the Quaint's bridge. O, how those reds use such reckless and costly tactics to fight a technologically superior foe! Have they no concept of strategy? Have they no common sense?

The lion's crest on his tea cup glistened gold, as a properly cleaned crest should. This was no ordinary crest, oh no. It was the coat of arms for the Tentunson family, a symbol that has been passed down from son to son since before the reds knew how to make fire. It was proof that the purples were civilized and that it was their destiny to conquer the world. And as we all know, only madmen go against destiny.

"All transports, deploy troops,"The Captain muttered to his lieutenant who echoed in a deafening voice,"ALL TRANSPORTS, DEPLOY TROOPS!"

"Form hard to starboard, Duck hard to port."

"FORM HARD TO STARBOARD, DUCK HARD TO PORT!"

"Steersman, hard to starboard,"he said in an audible tone for the steersman.

"STEERSMAN, HARD TO-Oof!"Tentunson punched his lieutenant in the gut, as the steersman had already heard the order. The Quaintswung around to starboard as the Form did the same and the Duck turned to port. The transports broke formation and fanned out, draping lines from the side for troops to slide down.

"All guns, prepare to fire on the red positions."

"ALL GUNS, PREPARE TO FIRE OF THE RED POSITIONS!"

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"THANK YOU, LIEU-Oof!"

[Monfrox]

"Here they come..." Arike said, standing her ground. "Find some cover and dig in." "About damn time we saw some action. My trigger finger was starting to get lazy." Allison chided. Juliet set up her MG on it's bipod and waited for a wave of troops to head for her squad. Allison was taking pot shots while Eva and Griselda kept their cool and steeled themselves. Arike smirked. "Time to get busy, girls. Let's show the men what we're made of." She said.