Call this a promo. :D
Review replies;
OddAuthor: I shudder to think what you'd get with that search. You don't sound too harsh at all. :) Thanks for reading!
Cartoonatic55: Yeah, I mean, I'm not a Timmy/Trixie guy but you don't see me killing off Trixie...all the time. :| (Looks at End Times.) Anyway, thanks for reviewing!
Solid Sun: 'Kay! :D Thanks for the review.
TweenisodeOrange: ...oh, it exist. By Jove, it exists... D: Thanks very much!
The Shadow Syndicate: Yeah, far from the finest point in our history, that. Bloody Chamberlain. :( Thanks!
Zim'sMostLoyalServant: We must dramatically increase the number or robots. :] Thank you!
Autobot-Outcast: NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO D: D: D: Danke Schon!
Third Kind: I reckon it's the latter, myself. ]:| Also, YEAH ROBOTS! Merci!
25/10/12: The Oath of the Witchfinder-Generals
We stand for order.
The doorbell rings. Jack answers it.
"Hello, my name is Mr. Charles and this is Mr. Rupert. We regret to inform you that you are under arrest."
The world we live in is tainted by evil and chaos. These stains must be erased. They must be eradicated for the good of all mankind.
Jack throws a punch – Mr. Charles is knocked off his feet and down the porch steps. Mr. Rupert reacts quickly – he pulls a gun on the large man's head.
"Mr. Fenton, stand down or we will use deadly force."
We will spread ourselves to every corner of Christendom. We will infiltrate every kingdom to root out the disease. We will do whatever is necessary.
Jack throws another punch, and the gun is knocked from Mr. Rupert's hands. He cries out, clenching his wrist.
"Backup!" Mr. Charles shouts into a radio, "We need backup!"
At that moment, a line of black vintage cars roars onto the street. Several witchfinders climb out, carrying batons.
Our justice will be swift and merciless. Every witch and warlock will be hunted and erased. Every daemon will be slaughtered like cattle.
The witchfinders descend on Jack, going to town with their batons. He is subdued and cuffed, but not before he knocks out two of his foes.
A blast of green flies past the witchfinders heads – Maddie has arrived, ectogun in hand.
We shall take them, and any who stand with them, and we shall burn them, for one shall not suffer a witch to live.
"Taze her! Taze her, for the love of God!"
A particularly brave agent makes a run for her. Ducking a shot, he leaps and tackles her, holding her down while four more come to help cuff her. Most end up wounded as Maddie struggles against them, but they succeed.
We will be present in every echelon of society. Our eyes will watch everyone and everything. Nothing will escape our notice.
Mr. Charles mops his brow as their captives are forced into the back of a car.
"Call the Boston Office," he pants to another witchfinder, "Tell them to bring in Phantom and take him to HQ."
The agent nods.
"The noose is tightening," hisses Mr. Charles, "I can feel it."
We are omnipresent. We are ever-vigilant. We are legion in our goal.
In the name of His Majesty the King, we are the Witchfinder-Generals.
They may be a bit extreme.