Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Way of Moderation has ended (page 566)
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Raid
Not half a minute after Strop left Leon and Crimson to their own devices, were his priorities set for him, for right before his eyes, the Armorbank, bastion of the economy of Armorgames, was under seige. Row upon row of monochrome tank was lined up, rumbling towards the pillars of the front entrance in droves, missiles streaking towards its walls. Upon the levels, from the walls, snipers shot from the windows, makeshift turrets had been set up hailing down everything from rocks to rockets. And the noise! Oh, the deafening racket of explosions was all around and there was nowhere to run from it for like the bullets that twanged all around his ears, the sounds richocheted every which way. Strop thanked his lucky stars (which had mostly deserted him, what was it that panda said again!?) that he hadn't bothered removing his earplugs, but there was no time for that, he had to find a way to secure the bank!
When he reached the entrance, quite a sight met his eyes:
"Oh good," Strop thought to himself. Between some inspired heroics and defense skills, perhaps he did have a moment to think about how best to tackle the problem, which, really, would be to find out its extent and purpose. This was a most confusing situation, after all, whilst Newgrounds was the mother of all cities in this region, there was quite a great deal of overlap between the two cities, in fact one might have even called the two sister cities, seeing as the legendary developers of ArmorGames also occupied similarly esteemed roles within Newgrounds. For that reason Strop had always thought the two were on good terms, but on the other hand, thinking about the citizens themselves, well, there emerged the point of difference! Strop himself could attest to the source of the hostility from a time he would rather forget-
An ominous rumble, distinct above all the noise filtering through to his stoppered ears, alerted Strop. That wasn't the mechanised rumble of caterpillar treads, but the sound of tanks exploding with a frequency only achievable with one contraption, one contraption that should have been property of ArmorGames but-
Strop glared at K1aus. "No, seriously, Klaus, what the hell are you doing here. You were permanently banned from ArmorGames, remember?"
"Ahhh, do you know how good that felt?" Klaus stood atop the Indestructotank with his hands on his hips (wherever those were). "It was like taking a massive dump." As if to emphasise his point, he let out a big sigh of relief.
"Klaus, are you even listening to me?"
"I mean, I really hated that guy. He was such a twerp."
"You didn't ev- KLAUS!" Strop finally jolted from the rhythm of saying random stuff. "Are you blazed again? It's like talking to a brick wall."
Miniature Cen poofed into view just over his shoulder. "Now you know what it's like talking to you."
"SHUT UP," Strop swatted at the miniature Cen, but he had already poofed out. He turned his attention back to Klaus, only to find the bear's head was now enveloped in clouds of smoke emanating from his oversized pipe. "Alright Klaus, now out with it! What's the meaning of all this? Is the raid your doing?"
Klaus took another dramatic puff, the haze lighting up and flickering around him from all the flames and explosions, casting a bear-like silhouette. "Strop, my dear ninja horse, you know me for my epic exploits. I've created many great works and they've all been popular, isn't that right?"
Strop said nothing.
"Of course it is! Because I know the secret to making epic. And I know the secrets on how to improve a place like this, but did any of you listen to me?"
"Klaus, you know very well that we're not in contr-"
"No!" surprisingly agile for a bear of such bulk, Klaus jumped off the truck and strolled towards Strop. "None of you listened. And the administration did nothing. So I sat here and watched this place rot. ROT, Strop. And you watched too. And that's why I left."
Strop ground his palm into his forehead. "Klaus, you 'left' because you went on a drug-fuelled rampage. And you ate the Banana King."
"I DON'T EVEN LIKE BANANAS", Klaus shouted, coughing on his pipe.
Strop ground his other palm into his face. "Klaus, for the third time, why are you here?"
Klaus recovered from his coughing fit, and rose to his full height. "The leadership of ArmorGames is incompetent!" he declared. "I love you Stroppy, but that's just how it is. So I'm merely, shall we say, fast-forwarding the inevitable outcome."
The lull in the conversation was filled with shouts, gunfire and more explosions as the walls of the bank began to crumble. Realisation started dawning in Strop's eyes. "Did you just circumvent a permaban to coordinate a raid on ArmorGames?"
Under the Cyclops visor, Klaus' eyes were unreadable, but it would hardly have been necessary. "Oh, I wouldn't say 'coordinate', Stroppy. Just like capturing the hearts and minds of the folk here... all you need to do is start the ball rolling."
At that moment, the entire ground shook, and under the heavy banks of black clouds, a red tinge spread as fire bloomed into the sky in the distance. A great thunder roared, shattering windows, cracking the pavement, and slowly, horrifyingly, a mushroom of incandescent destruction bloomed.*
"Ah, that would be the Freemarket," Klaus grinned maniacally. "Now as useless as it has ever been."
When Strop finally uncovered his ears, he raised his hands, and the black wisps of smoke poofed into the form of his legendary banhammer, Thor. He hefted it in his hands, then raised it high, ready to strike.
"Don't resist, Klaus, it'll only go harder for you."
* And this is where SOAD's Tentative should start playing!