It was widely-accepted as fact in Zero City that Yahtzee Croshaw's treatment of citizens was, irksomely, determined by his opinion of the quality of their related video game or games. Chell or Gordon Freeman could go to city hall asking for tea and Yahtzee would provide biscuits. If Master Chief or Sonic asked Yahtzee for the time of day, Yahtzee would provide them with a rubber hammer, a fist-sized lump of granite, and instructions on how to make a sundial. Written in Polish.
This was very evident when Kratos, Galen Marek, and Master Chief were called in by Yahtzee for their first covert assignment.
"Have a seat," the 2.5 dimensional British man said to the three when they entered. There were only two chairs across from Yahtzee at the desk in his study. One bore the nametag: Starkiller, and another: Kratos.
"There's a beanbag chair in the imp closet just outside," Yahtzee informed John.
"I'd rather stand," John-117 said.
"Fine, then. Be a tosser. Computer-tary!" he said.
Cortana projected next to the desk with a sigh. "Are you boys ready for the presentation?" she asked those assembled.
All four nodded and/or grunted their readiness.
A projector screen descended over the wall to Yahtzee's right and the lights flicked off. Darryl appeared next to the screen, standing upright and solemnly with a metal pointer in hand.
Cortana cleared her throat and began to narrate a slideshow that flashed onto the screen as Darryl pointed at the more relevant parts.
"Just three days ago, a massive heist occurred in the extraterrestrial Celestial district. It occurred, oddly enough, at the Museum of Extraterrestrial History still under construction. The most notable stolen item was a Type-25 Troop Carrier, or Spirit. Also reported missing were multiple weapons and vehicles from various alien cultures that arrived on Earth in one reality or another." Darryl pointed at a slide showing several furious extraterrestrials gathered outside an exploded wall.
"The Spirit still contained its functioning engine. The weapon displays were covered in latex, so quite obviously the thieves were wearing gloves. What the thieves failed to conceal were their small, frantic footsteps." Darryl pointed at the slide with the dirty, small, frantic footsteps.
"Most of the footsteps belonged to Unggoy. The shoeprints most likely were from a troop of koopas. The most interesting connection, though, is to a recent series of sizeable transactions between Nook Enterprises and one Jee Wrunt. I couldn't make that make up if I wanted to." Darryl shook his head and pointed to a slide showing a large check bearing a clumsy signature in green crayon.
"Now the more serious business. Yesterday, a suspicious amount of steel, rivets, and other assorted building material necessities were intercepted on their way to one Mr. Jee Wrunt. In the middle of the old junkyard. Police Commissioner Eleanor Lamb and a few lightly armed ZCPD officers traveled to the junkyard to locate the shipments' source. Once in the denser part of the dump, they found themselves under heavy fire from concealed gun and laser turrets in the trash heaps." Darryl pointed to the scorch marks and bullet holes on the ZCPD transport, next to an incensed vortigaunt officer.
"Finally, Yahtzee found this letter in his mailbox this morning." Cortana produced a holographic letter and read.
'Dear Mr. Mayor-man Jenga,
I am regret to inform you that your city will be in attack very shortly. The Underling Revolution will be boxers and Jonathan brief and Swift. and deadly. Do not try to stop us; we have a secret weapon and many weapons and vehicles. We are trained in gorilla warfare. We can has your Cities.
Triumphantly,
Overlord Pidlak'
"Needless to say, their leader is an idiot. Since Yahtzee hired you—and a few other characters—out to do his bidding, I thought you three would be the ones to rely on to handle the situation quietly," Cortana finished.
"Quietly?" Kratos asked.
"It's important that nobody gets panicked over this," Cortana told him. "There are already rumors about the growing Zero City crime underworld. The last thing we need is a rebellion on our hands."
"What vehicle are we taking there?" Galen asked.
"Well," Darryl said, "we were originally going to assign you a standard ZCPD transport, but then Cortana decided you'd be better off with a Warthog."
Kratos' expression was one of confusion. John was just short of performing a fist pump, and Starkiller just raised one eyebrow.
"Since you're all bubbling with enthusiasm," Yahtzee said, "could the three of you pack your weapons and get going?"
"Do you have some important mayoral business to get back to?" Chief asked.
"No, I've a review to record," Yahtzee snarked back. He cuffed a passing imp. "Martini, dry."
"Wait a minute," John said, "isn't Eleanor more than powerful enough to take out the base herself?"
"The gun turrets tore her apart," Yahtzee said. "Her torso is still piecing itself back together."
Cortana winced. "Boys, get back here at three o' clock once you've suited up and collected your weaponry. The Warthog will be waiting."
Chief practically kicked open the door to his apartment, charged with ecstatic energy. He pulled the rocket launcher out of his closet and was going for the assault rifle and shotgun under his bed when he noticed an imp on his bed. It was holding an envelope.
Chief took the envelope, which was addressed simply to Chief, and opened it. Inside was a small crystalline chip, the type normally designed to insert into the back of his helmet. He did so.
Glad you finally received the chip, Cortana chimed in his head. You didn't think I was going to let you go on this mission alone, did you?
"I did," Chief admitted. "I guess that was stupid."
Yes. Yes it is. Get your guns together and get some rest. You'll need it.
Kratos lifted the Blades of Exile from the mantle above his hearth.
"When I return, this flame will be fueled by the carcasses of my enemies!" he shouted to no one in particular.
He strapped the Bow of Apollo to his back and ran back out of his house, roaring at the sky.
Galen Marek "Starkiller" put one extra lightsaber in his belt, just in case.
That was all.
"I hope you're all ready," Cortana said, addressing the newly-dubbed Badass Triumvirate. "Chief will drive, since he has the most experience. Who wants to take the turret position?"
"I will," said Starkiller. He stroked his chin, one eyebrow raised at the Warthog. "Wheels, eh?"
Cortana frowned. 'Do you have a problem with wheels?"
"No, no. Of course not. Just a little... primitive."
Kratos looked surprised. "Primitive?" he exclaimed (very loudly). "This machine is a marvel of future warfare! A projectile weapon on the rear, fueled by fire and water from the inside! How can you not appreciate this?"
Starkiller shrugged. "There's nothing that floating can't improve."
Kratos pushed aside Chief and stepped through Cortana, eyes narrowed.
"Do you know who could float?" Kratos asked quietly (for once). "The gods. Do you know of how I dealt with the gods?" Galen opened his mouth to respond, but was too late."
"I HEWED THEM LIMB FROM LIMB, CLEAVED THEIR MISERABLE CARCASSES LIKE SO MANY ROASTED SWINES! HERCULES, HERMES, HELIOS, EVEN ZEUS, KING OF THE GODS WAS NO MATCH FOR MY FURY! FLOATING DID THEM NO SERVICE!" Kratos finished, panting.
"You wanna ride shotgun?" Chief asked.
"Fine," Kratos grunted.
"Excellent!" said Cortana. "You know where the dump is, right?"
"Northeast, by Lake Ruto."
"Perfect." Cortana saluted the Triumvirate. "Good luck, boys. I'll be in touch." The three saluted back and Chief drove them out of Yahtzee's parking lot.
Cortana projected back inside to Yahtzee.
"There goes your three-man army, Yahtzee," Cortana said.
"I hope they can handle those slack-jawed dunces," Yahtzee said.
"Yahtzee, even you can understand that those three have fought through tougher situations."
"I wasn't referring to the rebels," Yahtzee laughed.
Cortana sighed.
The Warthog tore through the busy streets of the Zero City uptown (proper name: Upper Zero) as fast it could without blindsiding the other vehicles. Chief, Kratos, and Starkiller had the radio turned up (though no definite decision could be reached on the station) and were communicating through jubilant shouts, reveling in the raw exhilaration of speed and the anticipation of their mission. Never did their behavior descend into douchebaggery, mind you, but their hearts and minds were a-whirl with excitement.
As they reached a red light going up Route 360, the primary service radio beside the steering wheel began to buzz. Chief, still laughing, told Kratos and Galen to quiet down.
"Hello?" he said into the radio.
"Hello, John," said a female voice in polite Received Pronunciation.
Chief felt his smile crack and a chill run down his spine.
"Hey, Eleanor," Chief said. Kratos and Galen froze and listened to the transmission with trepidation.
"That's Commissioner Lamb to you," she responded.
"How's you recovery going?"
"Near finished," she said. "I'm calling from the hospital. Anyhow, seeing as I was temporarily indisposed, I decided to go on a little psychic patrol of Common and what do I find? Yahtzee's fucking secret private army tearing up the highway to suppress a rebellion behind my back. I'd like it, first of all, if Mr. Mayor didn't assemble personal strike squads, which is against the original Zero City charter. Second, what the fuck do you three think you're doing getting ready to ignite a destructive firefight just outside residential zones? I should head right out and blow the three of you back to Space-Marineland!"
The Badass Triumvirate was silent as Chief drove. If Eleanor Lamb wanted to disintegrate them, electrocute them, or fill them with flesh-eating insects, she could. She was fairly high in the list of Top Ten Most Powerful People in Zero City; Kratos had mistaken her for a foreign god when she moved there.
"Trust us, Commissioner," Chief said. "This isn't going to get beyond the boundaries of the junkyard. SPARTAN's honor." Kratos' eyebrows rose at this.
Eleanor sighed. "I suppose you expect me to look past your penchant for inducing fiery explosions and collapsing architecture—actually, I'd say all three of you have that problem—and allow you to complete this mission dangerously close to some innocent homeowners, yes? Fine, but—" Eleanor stopped abruptly as a loud snap! was heard in the background, probably a section of vertebrae popping back into place.
"If you botch this," she continued, "I'm overseeing your punishment. I can be very good at improvising. You three have a nice day." The transmission cut off.
"I think that about says it all," Starkiller said.
The tall buildings had mostly disappeared, replaced by the occasional few utility structures dotting drying meadows. The wreckage of the old junkyard jutted into the sky ahead.
Chief stopped the Warthog and zoomed in on the trash with his visor as best he could.
"I'm not seeing much," he said.
"Let me search it," said Starkiller. He emptied his mind and concentrated on the junkyard with the Force.
"Lots of life," he reported. "Tons of machinery, heavy and light. I'm not familiar with most of it, so I can't give any specifics."
"So," Kratos said, looking at Chief and stroking his beard. "This is the Spartan of the future? A warrior of steel and fire?"
Chief laughed. "No," he said. "I was just named after the Spartans from Ancient Greece. We're not actually—"
"Of course! So superior that you're quick to deny your noble birthright."
"Listen..."
"YOU CANNOT DENY YOUR GREAT SPARTAN HERITAGE!"
John sighed. "Are you guys ready to infiltrate?"
"Yes," Kratos and Galen said. "Careful, though," Galen cautioned. "I can't tell where the turrets might be under the layers of scraps and dead machines. Don't want to end up like Eleanor."
The Warthog advanced slowly toward the towering wreckage, the sound of the ocean floating in the breeze.
As soon as there was trash on both sides of them, the turrets opened up.
John floored the gas pedal and Starkiller returned fire.
"Shit, we're outgunned!" Starkiller shouted.
"Think fast, Spartan!" roared Kratos.
Chief crashed the Warthog deep into the plasma turret array to their right. Head-deep in sharp, rusted metal and rotten fabric, they sat tensed as plasma fire and bullets flew over their heads or into their thick trash cover. Eventually the firing abated.
"Let's push our way out slowly," Chief mumbled through a clump of moth-eaten upholstery. The three forced their way out of the Warthog and inspected the spot where the turrets were just bolted down. There were narrow unlit tunnels leading underground from it.
"That is our path below," Kratos grumbled.
The three heroes crawled down to their objective.
A frantic koopa paratroopa tumbled into the throne room of Overlord Pidlak the Unggoy.
"We've been infiltrated, my Lord," the koopa gasped.
Pidlak's methane mask almost fell from his mouth.
"How has this happened?" he asked.
"They climbed in through the turret entry tunnels, Your Greatness. I'm sure they're coming to exterminate us."
Pidlak's face screwed up like an irate toddler's. He whined and snarled through his mask and bounced his makeshift anti-gravity throne against the ground.
"It's not fair!" he whined. "We haven't even started the Underling Revolution and the big boys from the city are coming in to push us around! No! Once Weapon is finished, we'll be unstoppable, and they will all learn to fear us! Ready the guards; we will make brutal examples of these three intruders."
"I hear company arriving," Starkiller announced. The Badass Triumvirate had entered an open, dimly-lit space not unlike a parking garage with a wrought-iron foundation.
A squad of koopas came pattering toward them. Each one had a rusted plasma rifle.
"It's the invaders!" one shouted in its high, falsetto voice. The koopas immediately began firing erratically, their poorly maintained weapons stuttering occasionally.
The Triumvirate raised their eyebrows, as little skill was required to dodge the plasma bolts. With one sweep of his chained blades, Kratos decapitated four of the koopas. The others lost their nerve and bolted, leaving Chief to employ the "Grunt Punt" to dispatch them.
"Is this the best they can do?" Kratos laughed. An alarm went off, and red lights flashed throughout the complex.
"Let's split up," Chief said. "I think we can handle these amateurs individually."
Three Grunts flew toward cover behind an open doorway.
They heard footsteps pounding down the corridor toward them.
"They have automatic weapons!" one of them squeaked. "We need more armament!"
Starkiller soared through the passage and activated his lightsaber.
"One of these would help," he said. He cleaved all three grunts into pieces before they could fire their pistols. He started when a burst of steam sprayed from the doorway and a crooked blast door rose to lock him in.
"Is this a trap?" he called down the hallway. Starkiller laughed aloud, and there were muted growls from the darkness of the corner ahead.
"Kart contingency, ATTACK!" The corridor was filled with the crashing of cheap and rusted metal as a wave of helmeted koopas in motorized shopping carts careened toward Starkiller. They stopped six feet in front of their target before he propelled them back with a wall of Force energy. The screaming turtles met in a steaming, twisted wreck of metal and crunchy shells at the end of the hall.
Starkiller wiped tears of laughter from his eyes before continuing.
A savage roar echoed from the interior of the base. Starkiller felt the walls shudder, and readied himself for a larger opponent. He was surprised to find no larger foe, but Kratos' handiwork.
Before him was a Picasso landscape of flesh, blood, and steel. It was as if the designers of that quarter of the building had carelessly discarded walls in favor of an uneven cavern with turtle shells as tiles and blue blood for wallpaper.
Kratos sheathed his blades.
"The point was to execute the mission subtly, without arousing any outside notice," Starkiller sighed.
"I didn't," said Kratos. "You will notice I didn't cause any outside damage to the building. That way, nobody will notice!"
"Whatever," Starkiller sighed. "We should rendezvous with John as soon as possible."
The radio at his hip began flashing a red light. Starkiller removed it and tuned in. "Yeah?"
It was John. "I'm working my way towards their leader's location as we speak. Just take out any reinforcements before they come after me."
"You found him already?"
"When you get far enough, you'll start to notice convenient signs pointing out significant locations. These guys are morons."
"I'll meet up with you; Kratos is going to clean up any waiting reinforcements." Starkiller turned off the radio.
The gray Spartan had already left to find the remaining underlings.
Koopas and grunts were cautiously readying their weapons. In the cafeteria many still remained, if only to finish what could be their last meal. One of the small, nervous reptiles, sitting on a rusty barstool and
chewing on a head of lettuce, cocked his pistol and nudged a nearby grunt.
"Anyone here think it's been a while too long since the Overlord told us where the intruders were?" he asked, glancing at the speakers on the walls.
"Shut up!" squealed the grunt, fidgeting from one foot to the other. "Pidlak isn't dead yet; we'd be dead by now if he were."
"Of course!" boomed a human voice from the formerly barricaded cafeteria entrance. "Or maybe it will occur in exactly the opposite order!" Kratos drew his blades. "After all, before I take part in a major battle, nothing energizes me like a hot bowl of fresh TURTLE SOUP!"
The soldiers scrambled for the exit, and Kratos was upon them.
Starkiller spun his lightsaber in a lightning-fast blur, deflecting the lasers being fired from the two automatic turrets before him. He reflecting one salvo back at the offending turret, reducing it to steaming scraps. Heavy footsteps from behind him announced John's presence.
"The little bastard went that way," Starkiller said, nodding down the corridor. "He'll be by the water, I'm sure." He reflected the second turret's blasts and pelted toward the end of the building, followed by John.
"I guess Kratos is still busy with those reinforcements," Chief laughed, cocking his shotgun. "Too bad he'll miss out on the mission's epic finale."
There was a loud roar from another segment of the main structure. An entire steel jungle gym landed with a crash into the junkpiles by the lakeshore.
Overlord Pidlak turned around and faced his two pursuers.
"At last, you interlopers will have to deal with the secret weapon of the Underling Army; behold, my Uber-Jackal!"
A huge figure leaped from the ruined roof of the base and landed on the aforementioned jungle gym. It was a Kig-yar, its scaly skin turned dark from heavy mutations and its eyes bloodshot from synthesized mushrooms. Bulging blue veins ran the course of its body, up to the long spines jutting from its head and neck. It was about the size of a small tank, and seemed just as sturdy.
It snorted at the grunt's words and muttered, "Your jackal. Pfft." It hefted an equally oversized focus rifle from its back and took aim at John and Starkiller.
The blast shot over their heads. The Kig-yar struggled to wrest its weapon from the two chains that had coiled around the barrel. With a roar, Kratos launched himself onto the Kig-yar's head and grabbed onto its spines. He dug sandaled feet into the scaly neck and pulled back until the creature shrieked with pain.
Starkiller rushed at the Uber-jackal's chest with his lightsaber held out. It dropped to its hands and knees, trying to shake Kratos from its head. Starkiller leaped onto the back of the Kig-yar and plunged his lightsaber deep into the black hide. The huge creature dashed for Chief with Kratos and Starkiller still clinging to its body. It missed him when Kratos beat at both of its eyes with his fists.
"Turn him around!" Chief yelled to Kratos. The Spartan, still grasping the spines, steered the Uber-jackal to face Chief. Starkiller fired a steady stream of Force lightning into the beast's spine.
Chief found the oversized focus rifle still wrapped in Kratos' chains. He removed them and, with some effort, lifted the gun. He took aim at the screaming creature and pulled the trigger.
He missed. The Kig-yar reached over and tore Starkiller from its back, throwing him hard against a mound of car wreckage. It thrashed its head back and forth, loosening Kratos' grip. John aimed the rifle again struggling to balance it. He missed the second blast, barely grazing the creature. Kratos was thrown to the ground. Chief dropped the gun and threw the chained blades to the fallen Spartan.
The Kig-yar jumped backwards onto another pile of trash. It extracted a small washing machine and flung it at Starkiller, who had been trying to lift the wreckage without attracting its attention. He deflected it with the Force, but at the cost of having the car parts tumble back on top of him.
Twin blades embedded themselves into the Uber-jackal's collarbone, pulling it down from its perch. No sooner did it pull itself up than a beam of energy seared directly into its forehead. Chief dropped the focus rifle once more, satisfied that the Kig-yar was dead.
Starkiller blasted the trash off of him and brushed off the remaining bits.
"Where did Pidlak go?" he asked. Scanning the surroundings, he saw something small floating above the waters of the lake. Pidlak had increased the thrust on his throne to full power and was hovering away at a steady pace.
The lakeshore was suddenly bathed in a bright, orange light as a ball of flame struck the grunt's throne. The throne exploded, throwing Pidlak into the water along with the steaming debris. A lithe, armored figure dashed past the Triumvirate and dove into the water. It surfaced a moment later with Pidlak under its right arm.
"Hello, boys," Eleanor Lamb said. "Looks like you cleaned this place up nicely."
"No problem, Commissioner," said John. "Maybe we could've been a little quieter, but the situation required pretty heavy force."
"We have slaughtered this great beast with its own weapon and purged the fortification of all resistance!" Kratos proclaimed proudly.
"Seems so," Eleanor said. "By the way, I apologize if I sounded a bit standoffish earlier; it was the pain talking, you know." She inspected the unconscious grunt under her arm with amusement. "He'll have a lot of fun explaining himself back at the station."
"Does anything else require taking care of?" Galen asked.
"No. We came prepared for the turrets this time, and Kratos completely destroyed any rebels left inside the base. You did a good job, all three of you. Messy, but effective. I'm still going to have a long talk with Mayor Croshaw about this personal commando thing, though."
Eleanor saluted the Triumvirate and bounded over the roof of the base.
"Well guys, I think it's safe to say that we succeeded," John said.
"Yes," said Kratos. "And I look forward to receiving my share of our glorious spoils."
"Do you think Yahtzee will mind our climactic abandonment of subtlety?" Galen laughed.
"'Course not," said John. "What do you think he expected from us, espionage?"
