Part 5: Is a Man Not Entitled to the Sweat Trickling Down a Tijuana Hooker's Back?!
Okay, this update doesn't actually deal with Alma. There's a lot of material between Drassen and Alma, so I thought it best just to split it into two updates. I'll probably deal with Alma tomorrow. Enjoy.
Part 5: Is a Man Not Entitled to the Sweat Trickling Down a Tijuana Hooker's Back?!
As the days passed after the Defense of Drassen, more and more troops were added to the roster of militia. Bright-eyed and eager men and women from the town were recruited and given green vests and peashooters, and sent to defend Drassen from ne'er-do-wells. If they proved especially adept at hiding and avoiding death, they were given blue vests and marginally more effective weapons, perhaps a slingshot or a yo-yo with spikes on it. Ira and Flo managed to recruit roughly 60 men, 20 for each sector of the town. Satisfied that her private property (the entire town belonged to her, after all) was safe from the hands of looters and well protected from the vagaries of copper mine collapses, Dagny felt that it was acceptable to continue her campaign to bring the entire country under her control. She contemplated the sign that Gasket had erected and smiled.
"Welcome to Dagnaria. Pop.: 2,227"
A six-foot silver dollar sign stood beside the sign. While her advisors claimed that it was a hideous waste of resources, she reminded them of the moral necessity of such a symbol. That is, the dollar sign served to remind the people what a return to communism would mean for them: the sweat of their brow would go to fill the coffers of another. Never mind that twelve people had expired extracting the silver necessary to complete the emblem - it was the principle that mattered. Plus, if her investments in Hong Kong went sour, she still had a giant hunk of silver as one of her assets, which was awesome. But, to business.
First things first. While Deidranna's commandos had delivered some tasty weapons, she desired tastier weapons still. She lit a cigarette, flicked open her laptop, and directed her browser to AIM's website. Browsing through the mercenary files, she was especially interested in what items each merc came equipped with. Eventually, she found an available merc to her liking, a certain Earl "Magic" Walker. Taking a drag on her cigarette, she exhaled and connected to his live video feed. A brown-haired man with a chin chiseled out of solid granite responded. His teeth were like tiny icebergs, sinking his Titanic tongue.
"MAGIC RESPOND."
Unsure whether this was an imperative or... something else, Dagny let her cigarette go limp in her hands. Furrowing her brow, she leaned closer to the screen.
"Mr. Walker? I have need of your services."
The presence on the screen seemed to darken.
"MAGIC NEED HELLA CASH. YOU DIG?"
"I dig Mr. Walker. I dig."
They went on to finalize the terms of their agreement. Dagny made extra-special sure that Magic would come outfitted with his custom gear, which included a Steyr AUG assault rifle and an attached scope. Realizing that she had neglected to move her landing zone to Dagnaria's airfield, the newly-christened Ronald Reagan International Airport, she cursed silently. Oh well, Magic would just have to cut a swathe through Deidranna's legions as he traveled from Omerta to Dagnaria.
And so he did.
You dare bargain with a force of righteous justice?
The real magic here is how his hair always looks so damn good
With a gaggle of captured slaves in tow, Magic arrived in Dras... er, Dagnaria. He immediately approached the governor's manor, wherein he found Dagny.
"MAGIC HERE. BRING OFFERING." He motioned to the corps of pale-faced ragmen on the verge of collapse, dribbling blood and bile on her tasteful periwinkle carpet. One of them groaned, and Magic delivered him a powerful blow. The man collapsed, out cold.
Dagny smiled.
"My dear Mr. Walker, the only thing you need offer is yourself! Why not put your bags down in your room and rest a spell?" She waved magnanimously toward the guest rooms. Turning back, she shouted:
"Boy! Yes, here, now. Come help Mr. Walker with his things."
Biff came running up and saluted Dagny, then saluted Magic. Having saluted, he stooped to pick up Magic's bags.
"Follow me, sir. The accomodations at Chez Taggart are, uh, nothing short of exemp... exempl... pretty good."
Leading Magic to his room, Biff explained the six different kinds of Cap'n Crunch that Dagny's continental breakfast had on offer. Biff dropped Magic's bags just outside the room, and they entered together. Magic spun around to examine his bags, and was disturbed to see they were not there.
"NEED BAGS. YOU DIG?" He made a strangling motion with his hands.
Biff smiled viciously and stepped backward.
"Dig this, sir."
He closed and locked the door, and pulled a remote trigger from his belt. As Magic pounded on the now-locked door, Biff pressed the switch on the remote trigger. A soft hissing sound was to be heard from behind the door. After a few moments, there was a loud *thump.* Biff replaced the remote trigger and waited for the gas to dissipate. After a few moments, he opened the door, and found the prostrate figure of Earl "Magic" Walker on the periwinkle floor of Dagny's guest room. He began to drag Walker out by the arm.
y u gotta b like that dawg
After a quick visit to the dump with an unusually heavy 'christmas tree,' Biff returned to Chez Taggart to find Dagny distributing Magic's loot. Flo received the AUG, while Gasket took Magic's repair kit. Satisfied that her troops were reasonably well-armed, Dagny set out to find the helicoper pilot she had heard so much about from Waldo, Dagnaria's alcoholic aircraft mechanic. He had said that the pilot came in to town reeking of the swamp, which suggested that he either lived in a swamp or worked at an Arby's. Taking the former to be the more likely, she set out with her men into the fetid wetlands of Arulco.
I never noticed this before, but that runway goes right into a forest. No wonder Arulco is the world's 164th largest economy, behind Lesotho. But with Dagny in charge... well, look out Macedonia!
While searching for the pilot, they came across one of Deidranna's Surface-to-Air Missile sites, which she used to shoot down low-flying aircraft and the occasional errant Goodyear blimp. Clearly such a site would have to be disabled before they could make use of Dagnaria's Air Chariot. Striking by night, the battle was naturally short but sweet, though Ira did take a shot in the arm. Dagny made sure that Ira received an extra portion of human flesh that night, in order to recharge her depleted vital energy. Animistic religion had always played a huge part in her moral outlook on the world.
im in ur base, killin ur d00dz. Seriously, though, it was a veritable holocaust
Since they had done something novel and interesting in capturing Deidranna's north-west SAM site, Gumpy bent over for the usual telepathic rape that usually occurred right about now. And so it did. While Gumpy finished vomiting from the horrible stomach cramps, Dagny reflected on what she had learned: Deidranna had prepared a counter-attack on the SAM site. She called everyone to the SAM site's bathroom for a conference. While the cramped conditions were offsetting, for some reason the site's only whiteboard was located just above the urinal.
Elliot refrains from pointing out that flying is a type of movement, for which his face is grateful
Standing on the seat of a toilet, Dagny explained her gameplan: Ira and Flo were to go among the local farmers and press-gang them into militia service, on pain of the murder of their first-born if they dared to disobey. Meanwhile, everyone else would hide in the bathroom and wait for the enemy.
She clapped her hands, dismissing them. Ira and Flo set out, and returned with a full complement of 20 men. Pleased, Dagny allowed them each a urinal cake treat. Ira devoured hers whole, while Flo merely turned her own cake over gingerly in her hands before handing it to Ira, who consumed it just as quickly as the first. On the upside, her breath was markedly improved, and every soldier who came over to urinate in her mouth remarked on the delightful smell.
The enemy soon struck from the south: six of Deidranna's elite commandos, all black uniforms and ethnic slurs. Dagny's militia set out to meet them on the field of battle while she and her cronies hid in the bathroom.
Dagny explains to her men the importance of not shitting in the urinal. Juan, the janitor, is doubtless appreciative
As the battle raged outside, passions flared inside. Biff and Flo could barely contain their lust for one another; Flo was stroking Biff's tiny hard-on through his khakis while Biff blushed powerfully and fought her off weakly. Meanwhile, Gasket had taken to eating bits of the paint peeling from the walls. Ira, on the other hand, was squatting over the sink, using the faucet to stimulate her intimidating genitals. Gumpy sat with Dagny in the corner, his rifle propped against his shoulder, watching the goings-on with a look of wonder and bemusement.
"Mr. Hillman, do you ever wonder if our venture will be successful?" Dagny asked, in a rare moment of weakness.
"Shore it'll be successful, pilgrim. You just leave it to me," he said confidently, cocking an imaginary ten-gallon hat.
Dagny reached out and touched his shoulder lightly.
"Most reassuring, Mr. Hillman. Perhaps when this country is under my control you will remain here with me, as Vice-President of Operations of Taggart Transcontinental's Arulco division...?"
Gumpy was unsure why a country three miles wide would need a railway, but he assented in the only way he knew how.
"Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?"
As Dagny laughed lightly, Ira, having completed her faucet fuck, let out a powerful moan of orgasmic satisfaction, silencing the rest of her compatriots. Even Flo, master of the combat-orgasm, was impressed.
The door opened suddenly, and one of Dagny's militia poked his head through.
"Sir, the enemy is routed. It's safe to come out."
Dagny thanked the man and went out to survey the carnage.
This was pretty much a white pants vs. black pants thing I think
Now that the SAM site was firmly under her control, she could resume her search for the missing helicopter pilot. As they searched the countryside, her squad came across a mysterious house just west of Dagnaria, and they crept toward it stealthily. Of course, the area was occupied by Deidranna's troops, and an extremely filthy battle ensued in the stinking swamp. Her men, soaked in swamp-water, had difficulty keeping their footing in the vine-carpeted environs, and were more often than not leaning on one another as they fired at the enemy. Dagny found this messy close combat exhilirating, and had to expend considerable effort on keeping her perky nipples from giving away the team's position. One enemy body after another sunk irretrievably into the swamp water, and eventually the sector was cleansed of Deidranna's presence entirely.
Flo and Ira sneak off to drink the stuff inside the chemical break lights. It receives a glowing review from them
Dagny cautiously approached the cabin in the center of the swamp. Light poured out from the house, striking the trees and casting eerie shadows all around. A small porch lantern dangled, moved by the humid breeze. She knocked on the door and was greeted by a friendly-looking black man. He rushed forward eagerly to grab her hand, and pumped it up and down over and over.
what the fuck are you talking about
"SKYRIDER HERE, THAT'S WHAT THEY CALL ME. I FLY WHIRLY-GIGS, EGGBEATERS, AND RASPBERRY CRUMBLES, BUT NOT FOOFNAFFLES. NOT SINCE THE ARMY," he bellowed, rocking back and forth on his feet. The man was clearly deranged, but if he could fly a helicopter, Dagny feared she would have little choice but to employ him. Before she could get a word in edgewise, he continued to list his qualifications loudly.
"YUP, WOULDA WORKED FOR DEIDRANNA, BUT THE JOB PAYS DINK AND I GOT SIX KIDS." He pointed to a set of beer bottles on the table, each filled with rock dust and each bearing a set of pasted-on googly eyes.
"SO I GUESS I'LL FLY FOR YOU, IF YOU CAN MUSTER UP THE GRAVY AND MEATBALLS. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN," he said, and elbowed Dagny in the ribs. Dagny was about to say that she would be happy to escort him to town, when he began to bellow once more. Dagny buried her head in her hands.
"I CHARGE BASED ON DISTANCE AND VOLUME. YOU PAY ME TWELVE RADIANS PER KILOSECTOR, AND I'LL GET YOU AND YOUR MEN WHERE YOU NEED TO GO. BUT I DON'T DO HOT DROPS, OR POP ROX." He seemed pleased by the rhyme, and held forward a contract for Dagny to sign.
Dagny wasn't sure if dollars directly converted to radians, but she signed the contract nevertheless.
I fucking hate you skyrider
Next up: Four Comic Operas in Alma