Friday, September 2, 2011

Chapter 8: Eruption


COPPERHEAD: Hurry it up, robot!

B.A.T. #1: Why don't you get your weak organic ass down here? It's hotter than hell and the magma is melting my circuits!

B.A.T. #2: Copperhead, my sensors are picking up four life form readings approaching at a velocity consistent with transport via Armored Personnel Carrier!

COPPERHEAD: That's it.  I've had enough of this suck job anyway.  You robots, finish activating that warhead.

COPPERHEAD: You, Jungle Vipers.  You stick around and hide out in the forest and watch for--

JUNGLE VIPER #1: Ahem.  Excuse me, sir?  We're Jungle Vipers and technically, this is a forest, so really, we shouldn't even be--

COPPERHEAD: Shut your goddamn pie hole and hide in the woods.  When whoever it is shows up, take 'em out and buy those blankety-blank robots some time.  I'm skinnin' outta here!



FALCON: Well, here we are at the volcanic crater.  I don't see anything...but something doesn't feel right.

BAZOOKA: That's something I've often struggled with...are subjective feelings an appropriate basis for any sort of action?  It's one thing out here in the woods, I suppose, call it instinct, if you will.  But in matters of epistemological certainty, I just don't--

WILD BILL: Aw, hell, don't you ever shut up?  Spirit, hand over that canteen of the good stuff.

SPIRIT: *hiccup*

BAZOOKA: Well, I'm just sayin'.

FALCON: That's enough, you guys.  Stand watch while I get ready to rappel down into the crater and verify that warhead's signal.  If I can locate it, I'll deactivate it and avert a national catastrophe, likely earning one if not more medals of valor in the process.

JUNGLE VIPER #1:  Oh shit oh shit oh shit!  Wake up!  There's a green beret guess a football player.  And a cowboy. Indian.

JUNGLE VIPER #2: Are they special ops or a Village People cover band?

JUNGLE VIPER #1: Who can tell these days?  Just shoot 'em.

JUNGLE VIPER #2: Well, to be on the safe side, I'll take out the green beret first.


FALCON: Ouch!  What the--

WILD BILL: Well shee-it.  Bazooka, I can state with enough certainty to please Renee Dez-Cart-ez his self that our mission leader just took a bullet to the shoulder.

SPIRIT: We in heap big trouble now...*hiccup*


COBRA COMMANDER: Let usssssssss dissssspensssssssssse with the pleassssssssssantriessssssss, McCullen.  When were you going to tell ussssssssss about the tracking beaconssssssssss in the warheadssssssssssssss?  Our mercccsssssssenary contact in Burma reportssssssssssss that one of the warheadssssssssss wassssss intercccsssssssssepted by sssssssssssssome ssssssssort of sssssssssspecccsssssssssssssial forcccsssssssssessssssssssssssss sssssssssssquadron.

McCULLEN: Commander, I can explain.

COBRA COMMANDER: Pleasssssse do.  Thisssssssssss should be abssssssssssssolutely sssssssstunning.

McCULLEN: I must confess, most of the warheads were deliberate decoys.  I wanted to analyze U.S. military response for future, tactical reasons.  Only one warhead is critical to the execution of the plan.  And I assure you, Commander, that warhead is utterly undetectable.

McCULLEN: As you can see, the detonation of a single, strategically placed warhead will be sufficient to achieve the desired objective.  That warhead, Commander, is being readied for placement as we speak.

McCULLEN: I apologize, however, for keeping the details of the tracking beacons and the purpose of the other warheads to m'self.  But at this stage, I felt that discretion was advised.  I kept meh cards close to the vest, as they say here in the colonies.  Of course, all of the surveillance data I have collected will be at your disposal.

COBRA COMMANDER: For the pricsssssssse we paid, I would excsssssssssspect nothing lessssssss.  But if there isssssssss one thing I mussssssst inssssssssssssist upon, McCullen, it issssssssss full appraisssssssssssal of every facccsssssssset of the planssssssss.  And I've taken the liberty of ensssssssssuring that from thissssss point forward, I will have your complete candor and fiducccssssssiary loyalty in all of our future bussssssssssinessssssssss dealingssssssssss.  Baronesssssss?

BARONESS: Mr. McCullen, I trust you recognize this?

McCULLEN: Where did you--I mean, aye, I recognize 'at.  It's a relic to which I must confess a bit of a sentimental attachment.

BARONESS: The attachment is about to become more than sentimental.  Major!

MAJOR BLUDD: This here concoction is a special recipe of me own, Guvnah.  A special little rubidium formula what I like to use on special occasions such as this.

McCULLEN: Rubidium?  Rubidium bursts into flame when--

MAJOR BLUDD: Right you are, Guvnah.  Right you are!


McCULLEN: Aaaaaaaaaarrrrgh!

DR. MINDBENDER: Most impressive, Major Bludd.  The effects are quite like you described.

McCULLEN: Aaaargh!  Yeh are all madmen!  The plan will work!  The plan will still work!

COBRA COMMANDER: Oh, I'm sssssssssssure it will, McCullen.  I'm ssssssure it will.  Esssssspecccssssssssially now that you're contract with Cobra jussssst became exssssssssclussssssive.  Put him out, Mindbender.

McCULLEN: Unh . . .

DR. MINDBENDER: Come along now, Mr. McCullen.  I can't promise that the next few hours won't be painful--in fact, I am pretty sure they will be.  But when you wake up, you won't remember a thing. won't remember most of it, anyway.

McCULLEN: Grrrrmmm...I...will...destroy....destroy...destro....

COBRA COMMANDER: Take him away, Mindbender...we don't want him to become...unssssssssssalvagable.

DR. MINDBENDER: Certainly, Commander.  I'm confident that I can find a remedy for his injuries that is...

DR. MINDBENDER: ...permanent.


FALCON: Bazooka...I know the others...have been hitting...Spirit's Native American...hooch.  You're...our only hope.  Must...deactivate...warhead....

BAZOOKA: All those years of training have led up to this.  Now is my chance to show Hawk I'm a real Joe.  And maybe...just maybe...I'll get a real uniform and be able to take off this stupid football jersey.  I won't let you down, Falcon!