Tales of the Parodyverse

Part 2 is the new stuff


Post By

killer shrike
Fri Jul 25, 2003 at 08:29:30 pm EST


In Reply To
Mr. Epitome #7 "E for Victory"

killer shrike
Fri Jul 25, 2003 at 08:28:52 pm EST

[ New ] [ Tales of the Parodyverse ]

Mr. Epitome #7


“E for Victory”, Part 2



The number of anti-war demonstrators outside the Epitome Division grew significantly with each passing day. Glory watched them from her office window. The motley crew was clustered in a designated “protest zone” 100 yards away from the building, and armed with speakers that constantly blasted “protest anthems” towards the building at a permit-approved volume that could be no greater than 90 decibels. Glory knew what 90 decibels sounded like, and when they passed it she was going to go out there and make some arrests.

“I hate them. They are stupid,” the Mutt of Might growled to Mr. Epitome in ‘Gloryspeak.’

The tall, brown haired man joined her at the window, “Some of them are,” he agreed, “Most are simply misguided. And remember what Marcus Aurelius said: to feel anger at someone is an obstruction.”

“Tell them that. Look at that sign: Epitome = Red Watchman. Disgusting.”

“I suppose it’s in retaliation to the President comparing Emperor Scorpion to the Watchman in his speech Monday. That was certainly an exaggeration.”

“I want to change the subject, please. When are we leaving?”

“Sunday morning. We fly to Lisbon to refuel, then rendezvous with the Abraham Lincoln in the Mediterranean. Considering travel time and the time zone difference we should land at seven in the evening.”

Glory wagged her tail happily. She had today to e-mail her goodbyes, “When do we start fighting?”

Mr. Epitome stroked his partner’s head, “The turkey shoot begins Monday at 0100 hours.”

“What does ‘turkey’ and ‘shoot’ put together mean?” Glory had difficulty with her idioms.

“Massacre. We’re going to massacre them.”

*****


Sybia was a country approximately the same size as the state of Nevada. Its northern border was known by sailors as “Plunderer’s Coast”: 450 miles of rugged shoreline along the Mediterranean Sea. The famed Barbary Pirates had made their home here, attacking those merchant vessels whose countries refused to pay the local warlords tribute. A brief rise of cliffs provided these eighteenth century gangsters with some protection from enemy attacks. Today, Sybia’s sole port city, Ritopli, is the home to nearly 550,000 people.

Going inland a traveler would find mostly flat desert, spotted by oil fields, refineries, and farming communities. The capital, Lebask, is 100 miles from the coast, about a third of the way in. Three and a half million people live in Lebask, in a culture that blends Christian and Muslim traditions with little animus exhibited by either faith towards the other. The Sybian government was corrupt and totalitarian; two things that made it easy for them to maintain order there.

Southern Sybia was desert that eventually became a cluster of mountains known as the Pashads. It was in the south that many of the nomadic traditions of the old tribes still held sway. Unskar Kufadalla, the Emperor Scorpion, was a leader of one such group. These extended families plagued small settlements, and occasionally made forays against the Sybian army itself before retreating into the caves that honeycombed the Pashads. The United States government had been in contact with some of these groups of nomadic enemies to the Sybian state, promising them roles in the new regime that would replace the junta currently in power if they provided support for the US.

Most of the Sybian army was in the north, protecting Ritopli and Lebask. Their forces were estimated to be nearly 300,000, though a good percentage of them were ill-trained and of dubious loyalty to the state. The Sybian military was known to have access to both French and Russian weapons systems, both of whom sold arms to the state until a 1994 UN Resolution banned them from doing so legally.

Some military planners suggested the United States bypass Lebask and Ritopli and focus on the mountains where Emperor Scorpion was suspected of hiding. The US could then occupy and partition the lower half of the country and use their air and naval power to discourage the upper half from engaging in any kind of counter-strike. Others said that would force America to rely on support from Sybia’s southern and eastern neighbors, the politically volatile nations of Chad and Sudan, to maintain supply lines and secure airfields. They favored precision air strikes followed by a massive amphibious landing force to quickly get past the defenses in Ritopli and move to take Lebask. This plan was approved by the President and given the code name “Asunder by Thunder” by the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

“Asunder by Thunder” began at 0100 hours Monday, May 19, 2003. Nearly 250,000 members of the American Armed Forces would serve in the operation. Most would not see combat, for this would be an invasion accomplished primarily by one man, who believed this was the first step towards a new era in geopolitics. Mr. Epitome knew that there was only one Super Power left and to bring about a better world, that Power needed to be used in ways many of his kind resisted. They worried over possible failure or that their own frailties would make them unfit for the task ahead.

Mr. Epitome, an optimist, never feared defeat. And as for human weakness: he hadn’t been human for quite some time now…..

*****


In Dublin, Ohio Lester Dawes watched as a squad of OPS Tactical Agents girded themselves for the raid. Kevlar vests were put into place first, followed by high density ceramic arm and shoulder guards. Next came the protective leggings and finally the steel helmets with snap down plexi-glass visors. Early in his career with the Office of Paranormal Security Lester was cajoled into trying on armored ensemble: he made it three steps before crashing to the floor, completely immobilized.

The team next prepped their primary weapons: M-4 carbines with a single shot grenade launcher slung underneath. Each man also carried a 9mm Browning and three stun grenades. Not as high tech as the ordinance of the average SPUD agent, but effective for what they needed to do here today.

“Got the warrant, Agent Dawes?” the squad’s leader asked the slim, bespectacled man. Dawes turned from his seat in the front of the disguised OPS van and handed it back to him.

“Thanks. OK, gents, you know what do. Barry takes us to the front steps. Versaillo and Craig, you got the ‘ram. Once we’re inside the building, make sure your partner stays in your line of sight. Don’t worry about anyone who gets out the back: Medavoy’s team will be parked on the opposite street to catch bolters. Dawes, you need to duck down now.”

The vans squealed away from their parking places. They traveled half a block, then off the road up onto the lawn of a two-story brownstone. A dozen armored men spilled out, two men covering the building while two more rushed the front door with a hand-held battering ram. They smashed the door to splinters; then backed out of the way to let the lead team in. Lester watched as the group went inside, a lumbering, twitching phalanx.

Lester gasped when he heard the shots. He saw the two men on the lawn shooting at one of the second story windows. A rifle barrel pointed down at the van, firing a bolt of crackling energy that smashed into the van’s side. Agent Barry, the driver, cursed and put the van in reverse. Dawes watched the brownstone’s window blow in from two heavy doses of the carbines’ full auto fire. There were more shots inside, then silence.

Agent Barry’s shoulder mike broke the quiet, “The area has been pacified. Send them in.”

Now it was Lester’s turn to give orders. He clicked on his cell phone, “This is Agent Dawes. Tactical has reported the building is now secure. Let’s get to work,” Blocks away, one of the Epitome Division’s evidence gathering trucks started to roll.

Lester left the van. Abby Germain, who had ridden with the other Tactical squad, was already out. Looking over, she gave her partner the thumbs up. The raid had been the dramatic culmination of their case: tracking down a terrorist cell of the Emperor Scorpion. Lives were saved today by their investigation, and now at last they had members of Kufadalla’s group in custody for questioning. Germain joined her partner as they headed to the steps.

“Who are we, Lester?” she asked a now familiar rhetorical question. Dawes answered, smiling despite himself.

“The Pros from Dover.”

The Tactical team’s commander appeared in the doorway with his helmet off. He looked down at the two figures in their matching blue windbreakers with the yellow OPS initials emblazoned on the back.

“We found someone in the basement.”

“Someone?”

The two agents followed the bear of the man through the house’s narrow hallway, behind the stairs that led to the second floor. A door led them down to the cellar. They walked past two men kneeling on the concrete floor, covered by one of the OPS commandoes. Bomb components had been scattered by whatever struggle took place to subdue the terrorists. A small side room, once a pantry, revealed a surprise: a man, beaten and nearly naked, chained to one of the room’s sturdy shelves.

“Please, there’s been a mistake. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I need to see Colonel Dan Drury immediately,” he mumbled through torn and bruised lips, bringing a new wrinkle to the investigation with those three sentences.


*****


Glory was given the responsibility of harrying the forces in Ritopli. After the Epitome Express’s new installed “Accelerated Oxidizers” rusted the six main gun batteries that guarded the harbor, she was launched into the reinforced bunker that housed Sybia’s contingent of Mi-35M Hind Attack Helicopters. If the military had the chance, they would use these first in their attempt to halt the amphibious landing that would take place twelve miles to the city’s west.
The walls of the bunker crumbled like parched soap before Glory. She made quick work of the helicopters too, darting inside each one and shredding the controls. Sentries screamed and fired their useless weapons into places the Mutt of Might had already left.

The sound of something large and fast outside caught her attention. Using her X-ray vision Glory spied a suit of Puissant Heavy Infantry Armor charging towards the building. So much for Sybia’s claim they complied with the UN Resolution to dismantle their WMDs. And perhaps France’s assertions they stopped selling Sybia weapons in ’94.

The armor’s shoulder mounted particle cannon blasted another good sized hole in the bunker. Glory flung herself out of it and zig-zagged her way towards the eight foot tall war machine, dodging its triple barreled rail guns with ease. There was no way a targeting system that was cutting edge five years ago was going to find this particular target. She smashed into the armor’s chest, knocking it 100 yards back into a barracks. Soldiers watched in horror as Glory bit down onto the Puissant’s neck and shook the 6,000 pound meta-weapon like a tinker toy. When the pilot finally passed out Glory tore off the suit’s helmet, marked her territory, and sped off. She had to hurry if she wanted to demolish that tank column outside Ritopli before the crews got inside them.

*****


Since Mr. Epitome had the opposable thumbs, it was his job to fly the Epitome Express and put down Sybia’s Air Force. The country had accumulated a number of Soviet MiGs and French Mirages before the UN outlawed the sale of such technology to the rogue nation. These planes were hidden in reinforced bunkers that the Express’s sensors traced easily.

“Asunder by Thunder” was designed to minimize the loss of life, so Epitome had chosen primarily non-lethal weapons for the sophisticated air-ship. Missiles were fired into the buildings, carrying EMP projectors to short out the planes’ electronics. Airfields and roads were made unusable by the seismic-shock of the ship’s “Rubble Rousers.” The “Inorganic Immolator” reduced weapons depots to dust. In twenty minutes Mr. Epitome and Glory had destroyed over 11 kilotons of military hardware.

The US Marines hadn’t even reached the cliffs of “Plunderer’s Coast” yet.

It was time to lay siege to Lebask itself. Mr. Epitome let the city’s anti-aircraft guns target the Express before blasting the sites with narrow EMP pulses, crippling them. Any rockets that were fired had their guidance systems made useless by the ship’s ECMs. Most of the damage to Lebask this morning was done by these errant weapons.

Mr. Epitome intercepted a coded call from one of the palaces the Sybian generals ruled from. Three of the seven junta members were present, including General Bakkat, the current ruler of the regime. The leaders were futilely trying to get reports from their men in the field as to what exactly was happening.

The Exemplary Man jumped from the Express before setting its auto pilot flew it into the mesosphere, out of range of any remaining artillery. He crashed through the massive complex’s thick granite roof, only twenty yards from where the most of the ruling oligarchy stood. He was standing next to them five seconds and fourteen unconscious bodyguards later.

“General Bakkat,” Mr. Epitome spoke in the man’s native language, “By order of the President of the United States of America, I am required to take you into custody as a prisoner of war. It would be advisable, sir, to work with me to facilitate a full-scale surrender of your army. Any Sybian soldier who turns himself in will be allowed be given full protection under the terms of the Geneva Convention.”

Bakkat stood in his pajamas, staring goggle-eyed at the man who just overthrew his regime. Finally he spoke, “He’s not here. Kufadalla was never here,” he pointed to something over on his desk, “He sent that to laugh at all of us.”

The object in question was a small metallic scorpion. Epitome’s senses identified it as some form of recording device, activated by pressing one of the segments on the arthropod’s carapace. The Star Spangled Splendor hit the button.

Emperor Scorpion’s raspy metallic laugh filled the room, “Well, it appears you are all where I want you. Enjoy the quagmire, fools.”

*****


Coming Soon: “Intermission”








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